Blog 8.
It's nearly done!

Mon 4^th Aug

5.30 alarm to be ready for the 7.30 train.

Vova called, opened the garage and we loaded up.

He, who’d organized all our entertainment and accommodation all weekend, insisted that we pay not even the small fee we’d agreed to on Friday evening. He even gave us a bag of food and a bottle of brandy left over from last night.

All along the railway, we’ve been fed, housed, helped on and off trains and induced to drink and everybody’s refused to allow us pay at almost every point. We are hugely grateful to Vova and all his colleagues, all along the railway.

Given that Gary wasn’t going to ride his bike and my bearings were on the way out, I rode Gary’s bike today.

We were brought across the reservoir by train and dropped a few kms on the other side, where there was access to the trail.

We rode casually along some beautiful trails amid some beautiful countryside on a lovely warm day.

Me, walking it before entering it.

Then, after riding through only a few minor puddles such as the one below, Gary’s, (mine today) bike died exiting one.

It was a dry day so, instead of stripping it, we waited but it didn't seem to dry out. Kev towed me to see if it’d start but no. We were only 15kms from Dipcun and the trail was easy so we decided to tow it there.

As we started to work on the bike, the local police officer took interest, noted our documents and insisted we go to a local mechanic. In pigeon English and Russian, we said we knew what the problem was and didn't need to. Kev got concerned that we were, for some unknown reason, in trouble and when an onlooker crossed his wrists, he thought we were going to be handcuffed.

I think the gesture, somehow, meant “no problem”. The police officer was trying to help the verbally disabled visitors, maybe with a little too much conviction.

Anyway, she got the message, left and tension diminished. It transpired that the problem was a fuel tap allowing fuel from the auxiliary front tanks to the original rear tank. It was OFF. My bike has only one tank so needs none of this arrangement. Although Kev’s bike does have the auxiliary tanks, it doesn’t have the fuel tap so neither of us thought of this.

Anyway, problem sorted, we went to shop for lunch. While there, Kev asked for benzine and after a few phone calls, a guy arrived and we followed him to his house on the edge of town, where 20 litres was bought.

As Kev filled the bikes, this guy’s father grabbed me by the arm and, with huge pride, brought me on a tour of his vegetable garden and his chicken hatches, insisting on pulling vegetables and even trying to give me some eggs. My protests merely managed to limit the gifts to one bag of mixed fresh vegetables. Then a bottle of vodka was squeezed into my luggage.

The source of our benzine, with the over generous grandfather, third from left.

After photos, bear warnings and thanks, we left and went back to the shop to pay for the benzine.

As Gary would be coming into town shortly, though not joining us, we decided to wait a while and help take the bike and luggage off the train.

The guy we’d bought the benzine from arrived to collect goods from the train and was surprised to see we hadn’t yet left town. We explained that we were waiting for Gary and that he would be staying in town overnight. Grand, he said, he can stay with the grandfather we’d just met.

Gary arrived and a railway guy came up to us as we were leaving. Vova had rung ahead to arrange for Gary to stay in the station house.

Thinking the first option would be more sociable, Gary headed back to the house we’d already been to.

We continued along pleasant trails for the rest of the day.

We arrived around 10 p.m. in Mareviy and asked four teenage girls if there was a Gastonista in town.

After a phone call, we were told yes and instructed to follow the girls to the town square. 15 minutes later, a couple arrived, asking about our journey. Then he went up the town hall steps, opened the door and Kev and I rode the bikes up the steps and inside.

It turned out, the first girl was the mayor’s daughter and it was he who let us in. We were shown to bedrooms upstairs, next to his office, while our bikes stood inside downstairs.

With the Mayor in his office.

Our bikes downstairs in the main town hall foyer.

With the Mayor in front of a recently commissioned fountain.

He then, at 10.30 p.m, rang the local shopkeeper who opened up for us. As we left, the shopkeeper gave us free energy drinks.

With the mayor and shopkeeper in the shop opened just for us, at the mayor's request at 10.30 p.m.

As we passed back by the mayors house, his wife ran indoors and reemerged with hot and cold food for us. Simply amazing hospitality.

Tue 5^th. Aug.

We moved the bikes outside shortly after 8 a.m. and were joined for breakfast by the mayor. His secretary arrived shortly afterwards with a camera. Photos were taken of us inside, outside and beside the newly commissioned town fountain, a very simple structure but one he was very proud of.

As the staff arrived, we were brought into a small but very interesting museum outlining the history of the town, followed by more photos with all the staff.

We didn’t have far to go today to Tynda. The trail was easy and picturesque and, as a result, we stopped and took photos far more frequently than on any other day, where we were focused on getting through the obstacles to our destination.

It was an easy ride until Gary’s/my bike started acting up. It wouldn't run smoothly and if stopped needed to be towed to restart.

 Heading for the finish.

We would have given anything for bridges like these over the last few weeks! 

Getting easy.......at long last.

If you look closely, you'll see Kev looking at the river. 

Getting nearer urbanisation, the roads and bridges improving.

Looks new.....we must be nearly in Tynda.

Kev dancing on the bike on the last few kms into Tynda, 

EASTERN BAM CONQUERED!!!!!!!!

 It stuttered it’s way into Tynda, as Kev rode by, dancing on the pegs, celebrating our achievement. J

To our knowledge, we are the only non Russians to have completed the Eastern Bam by motorbike, one other guy, Luke Perry Gore having done it by bicycle. J

Big grin, meeting Gary in Tynda, having completed the Eastern BAM.

We arrived in Tynda around 2.30, two hours after Gary, booked into the hotel and put the bikes into a locked and fenced area behind it. We went straight to a place Kev was familiar with from being here two years ago to get bearings for my front wheel. Not available. Sasha, a mechanic next door who’d sorted Kev out last time, drove us around every possible hardware store but we failed to find them anywhere. He brought us to Max, who made a phone call and sourced them 600/800 kms away. Sasha’s girlfriend there picked them up. The only problem is…she won’t be back in town until Thursday. Damn.

We headed back to the hotel. Not long afterwards, Max and his girlfriend called, collected us and brought us to the Twin Kitchen bar / restaurant / night club. Max has quite good English and he certainly doesn't lack self confidence. That said, he’s sorting us out with the bearings. Actually, over the next few days, we decided he’s pretty well meaning but is one of those guys who you’d describe as “not doing himself any favours” in the way he talks to people.

We were joined by other bikers, some of whom Kev knew from two years ago, and their girlfriends. We saw quite a bit of Sergei and Slava, more than the others, over the next few days and we got on particularly well with them.

They all left after the food. We decided we’d a major achievement to celebrate so retired to the bar, bought some expensive vodka and justifiably slapped each other on the back. We were joined, towards the end of the night by the club owner’s wife and were dropped back to the hotel after closing time on her way home by the club bouncer.

Wednesday 6^th. Aug.

We got up at a lazy hour and Eva (I think) from reception showed us to a place where we could get crepes for brunch.

We did very little all day other than get a haircut. I needed to lose the “Doc from Back to the Future” look.

Around 8, the lads from last night called and brought us to Sergei’s mother’s house where we had a bbq and a singsong, a little beer and vodka too. Slava plays guitar well and has a lovely voice. He sang a song, half English, half Russian, that he’d written for his beautiful girlfriend which we were all hugely impressed by.

We spoke of people’s impressions of Russia abroad and how our experiences contradicted any preconceptions we may have had. The saying of the night was “It’s better to see once than hear 100 times” How apt!

 Sasha, with brown jacket.

 Slava, playing guitar

Gary, absorbed and in full flow  

 Slava, Sergei and Gary

 Max, enthralled or bored, I'm not sure and his girlfriend.

Anastasia, Slava, Sergei, Sergei's mother, whose garden we were partying in.

Lovely Russian smile 

Me after a value for money haircut. 

Thursday 7^th Aug.

Another lazy morning.

Kev went to Sasha’s garage and reattached and rewired what’s left of his number plate / light cluster. We took out and cleaned Gary’s injector. A blast of carb cleaner dislodged a sliver of something that could only be described as resembling a small finger nail clipping. Very strange but problem solved.

It turns out the bearings won’t now arrive until tomorrow. Feck.

Sergei and Slava called to bring us for food but we’d already eaten. We just went for a few quiet pints instead. Sergei was still suffering after last night.

Fri 8^th Aug.

Another day wasted hanging around. The bearings arrived around 5.30 p.m. We put them straight in. They only cost around €1.40 each and, to look at, weren’t confidence inspiring. These weren’t sealed bearings.  Again, we replaced the one showing signs of wear and kept the other as a spare.

Once fitted, we noticed Kev’s tent on the ground, definitely not where it should have been. A quick glance confirmed that all the luggage had been searched but there was nothing of value for anybody to find. It still wasn't a nice experience after so many good ones.

That evening, the lads brought us to a municipal bania, booked from 9 to 11. It was decided that we’d have no drink tonight, then Gary suggested a compromise of only one bottle of vodka at the Twin Kitchen. We ended up dancing in the adjacent night club. Best laid plans etc. J

Sat 9^th. Aug.

We arose 2 hours later than intended and packed up. Sergei and Slava led us out of town to where Sasha and his girlfriend joined us to say good bye.

Saying good bye to our newest Russian friends, leaving Tynda.

We were glad to be back on the road but these are a great group of people and we enjoyed our few days with them thoroughly.

The first 100 kms were dust roads and roadworks. Though you couldn't see a truck ahead, you’d know that you were coming up behind one by the dust cloud. The problem was…if you approach too slowly, you’ll never pass him but if you approach at even a modest speed, it may still be too fast as you’d only see the truck tail lights when less than 10 metres from it.

Eventually, we ended up on lovely fresh, smooth tarmac. Well, it was lovely until the thunderstorm arrived.

We donned our wet gear and I headed off with Gary following. In Riga, the only visor he could get was fully tinted. This, with the darkness of the sky, meant that he had to follow my tail light as it was the only thing he could see. We joked later that this would have been a good time to release a flare.

I was doing a steady 85 kph on the wet shiny road, then thought…it’s a very straight road with virtually no traffic, I’ll pick up the pace a little. As soon as I twisted the throttle, the rear slid a couple of inches to both left and right a few times. I reduced my speed to 70 to 80 kph, rather than the intended 100 to 120 kph.

We arrived at the only “hotel” for 100s of kms. It was a kip and cost an exorbitant €15 per person. The only washing facility was in a separate building and, next morning, that was locked.

The bedding we got in this kip, costing an exorbitant (for what it was) €15.

We had no option. We’d been warned not to camp around here.

A check on my bearings showed wear. Kev’s bike had been showing up an error message. He googled it and found a possible solution.

Sun 10^th Aug.

We arose as planned at 7 a.m. but it was raining heavily. We eventually got up at 9 and replaced my bearing. Kev ran a lead from the battery to the coil which sorted his problem. Breakfast, fuel, away.

More rain, another wheel slide, this time at a steady pace, travelling in a straight line. Yikes.
The only thing keeping me smiling was the image of Gary taking off like a greyhound past me after a mischieviously misdirected flare, with wheels spinning like a pup on wet lino.

The weather improved in the afternoon, as did the scenery. We had moved from forestry into vast plains with mountains in the distance. This new road had many signed side roads but they extended only about 10 metres from the main road into open countryside. A strange sort of forward planning!

Later, Kev ran out of fuel. We stopped to siphon from my bike and noticed Gary’s lop-sided luggage and found his drybag burning on his exhaust. His melted tent drew only sympathy from Kev and I. We certainly didn’t laugh. J

As it happened, Gary didn’t like the tent, was fed up with camping and we certainly weren’t going to be camping around here. The warning I mentioned earlier refers to the fact that we were entering the Chita region. The people are, apparently “different” around here. Camping tourists have been viciously stabbed to death for their belongings.

Some time later, it was Gary's turn to roll to a halt. His chain had snapped. I’d a soft link and we were soon back on the road.

As we got closer to Chita city, we noticed my engine was slightly noisy. We topped the oil up but it took very little. Unrelated but shortly afterwards, my wheel bearings collapsed again. They’d only lasted about 1000 kms.

The failed bearing, with only 1000 kms covered. 

We rolled slowly into town to a hotel which was full. I waited while the lads went in search of another.

A young guy, Misha, on a ZZR1100 arrived and offered a bike clubhouse to house both us and the bikes.

Kev returned to advise that they’d booked us into an hotel and been invited into a party. Misha followed us to the other hotel. On the street outside the hotel restaurant, 75% of the guests at a 55^th. birthday party were attempting to drag us into the party. Misha and these partygoers disagreed over who had the greater right to entertain us.
Each asked us to choose. We shrugged. They discussed. Though awkward, we felt like celebrities. A compromise was reached where Misha would watch the bikes for a bit while we’d be fed and watered inside.

Both Kev and I had problems starting our bikes while travelling between the two hotels but we weren't going to get time to address this now.

We left the party briefly, followed Misha and met his pals. We decided not to avail of their clubhouse offer, though genuinely appreciated and returned to the hotel, cleaned up a bit, changed and returned to the party.

They insisted we didn't leave these behind when the party was over.