Jul 17 2017

Return to Russia

We arrived back in Russia with mixed emotions, we were ecstatic to have beaten the Naadam holiday 6 day border closure but disappointed to have left Mongolia earlier than planned. This is however the nature of this type of travel, one has to adjust and adapt on the road. We now had eight days in Russia before we must enter Kazakhstan so a more leisurely approach can be implemented. If you have seen the previous blog video, you will know the spectacular wilderness that lay ahead of us. For now, a place to sleep for the night was our next priority.

While looking at the snowcapped peaks on our left we see a couple of log cabins surrounded by a wooden fence, looking like something out of the US or Canada. Here we meet a young couple who are developing the place for tourists, mostly Russians. We do notice cabins being developed as we travel towards civilisation over the next couple of days: I wonder if this a result of the imposition of sanctions by the west in 2014 for the annexation of Crimea which caused the Rouble to fall dramatically against the western currencies reducing holiday options for Russians, thus increasing domestic tourism, reflected in the increase of accommodation being built?

A perfect stop after a long ride and border crossing, at Kyzyl Tash and wait for the rain to pass


Enjoying the mountain views west of Kyzyl Tash


We are loathe to leave the beautiful vista of the snow capped peaks as we breakfast, but know that the road beckons with its twists and turns northwards. We are not disappointed as we ride open traffic-free roads, no stop signs, towns or traffic lights for 400km /250ml. We rise and fall as we transition from valley to valley via peaks that open up new and changing vistas. It is dream like riding for us.

Endless mountain road P-256


Blue skies and grey peaks P-256


Winding river on the P-256


Each time we stop, we are approached by friendly Russians interested to know where we are from, what we think of the area. Some were surprised when we told them how friendly we had found people, they thought we were just being polite, but no, it’s a world wide phenomenon we said. While communication in Russian was difficult, we found a number of people, as we did, get out their phone and call up the language app and away we go. The improvement in the language apps will aid communication which is a good thing.

Anthony talking to the ‘locals’ via an interpreter


Russia/Australia friendship association!


Monument to the builders of the P-256 that opened up Western Mongolia in the 1930’s


As we head north and reach Ust-Sema, the tentacles of civilisation start to reach out, more cabins, tourist resorts and increased traffic as we are at the start of the summer holiday season, families packed into cars with the roof loaded with holiday baggage. At one point a head pops out of a large inflatable raft strapped to the roof of a rafting adventure van travelling in the opposite direction – would have made a great picture but it appeared too suddenly for Anne to photograph. We also find we are really riding the bikes, on the open sections with no traffic, it is easy to move along, we now face streams of oncoming holiday traffic, no overtaking lanes and the lead laden smokescreen belching out of the old Russian truck lumbering along in front of you encourages a more active riding style. Judicious use of throttle and brakes is required to skip past the four or five trucks travelling together. Drivers are very courteous and the creation of the third lane happens often. We feel most drivers are more aware in these traffic conditions and act accordingly.

Let’s take the inflatable on holiday this year


Lunch with a stream fed handwash on the left.


Magnificent late 19th century architecture in Biysk


Library in Biysk, dilapidated grandeur.


Still mourned, over 60 years on. WW2 memorial in Biysk


We have found the cause of Anne’s rattle as we headed over dirt roads while leaving Mongolia: we have lost a crashbar expansion nut & bolt. While we have spare bolts, the expansion nut is more problematic. I contacted the retailer who informed me that the manufacturer was out of stock and did not expect parts for three months. Humm… not the best customer service. That and a sticky front wheel, brake related we think, has us head for Russia’s third largest city, which I did not know was Novosibirsk, so used to just hearing of Moscow and St Petersburg.

Vassily at the BMW Motorrad dealership in Novosibirsk, comes up with a solution for both problems, thanks Vassily. A couple of relaxing days in Novosibirsk allows us to recharge our batteries after travelling every day since Ulan Baatar. Novosibirsk is the most northern point on our journey at 55.01 degrees North, the most southerly point was Payton in Arizona USA at 34:14 degrees North. We will cover 360 degrees Longitude but only range in a 20 degree Latitude window.

Vassily ‘the Fixer’ at BMW Motorrad Novosibirsk with a happy Anne


Novosibirsk Railway station. All trains run on Moscow time. Russia has 10 contiguous time zones vs 4 in the USA


The Opera house in Novosibirsk sadly sold out while we were there


Soviet workers statues in Novosibirsk


Anna from Novosibirsk


First Russian style haircut.


Where’s Wally, or Anne


Our departure on a Sunday morning gives us an easy ride out of the city, progress is slow but steady with a long country section of road limited to 70kph instead of the usual 90kph, possibly a potential revenue raising section except people here stick to the limits, as we do. No fines please.
We dodge a few thunderstorms with well timed fuel and food stops, retrace our route back to Barnayl and onwards to the Kazakhstan border. Our hotel en-route in Aleysk turns out to be the re- purposed offices of a factory. The top floor is the hotel, with other levels housing a restaurant, supermarket and pharmacy. Clever thinking, but had no idea what the factory manufactured.

Our factory hotel in Alyesk


Interesting hotel decor in Alyesk


Interested locals pose for a photo


Sunflowers


Got our Kazakhstan travel insurance from two very nice ladies just before the border and we were set to go. 30 days for Russia and Mongolia, we did it but really would have liked more time…

The town bypass


Kazak Insurance at the Russian border


Towards Kazakhstan and the oncoming storm


– Anthony

Jul 10 2017

Mongolian Trilogy Part 3 – Serendipity

Anne awakes with a start after midnight on the 9th of July, “We must be out of Mongolia tomorrow” she realises, the five day border closure for the Naadam holiday starting on the 11th runs until the 15th which is a Saturday and the border is always closed on a Sunday. It will not reopen until Monday 17th, one day before our Russian visa expiry. It is highly unlikely that Russian Immigration officials will allow us in with 1200km to cover in just over a day through mountainous terrain. If we cannot leave today we will be stuck in Western Mongolia and need to apply for a new Russian visa back in Ulan Baatar some 1600kms/1000miles away with a likely three week delay in getting the Russian visa issued. Are you awake now, I certainly was.

With the evening’s events still fresh in our minds, we knew that we could do nothing but wait till dawn…

My mind drifted back to the events as they had unfolded over the previous 18 hours. After a good night’s sleep at the Entym Hotel in Altai after the long crossing in the truck, we bid goodbye to Baltar our driver who now started the long return journey home. Anne felt sad we had not been able to communicate as there was much about his world we could have better understood.

We had 450kms/270miles of paved road ahead and being ahead of schedule, with our view of the unpaved roads we had crossed yesterday we felt that we should give the upcoming 180kms/110miles of dirt ahead a go. We could take three days if necessary, time was on our side. “Confidence is high” to use a movie/military quote.

A quick walk around Altai before we leave:

Mongolians love their sweets

Mongolians love their vodka too

Mongolians appear to love karakoe too

Altai

We settle into more undulating vastness, good road and little traffic, in a few short years the missing links will be filled in and a trip on paved road from London to Ulan Baatar will be possible opening up more opportunities for visitors. Many dirt road alternatives will exist, so options for all types of rider. A small wrinkle appears, don’t build your bridges on a sand base is all I can say.

The road from Altai to Khovd

Oops!

Time for a stop

Very dry Govi-Altai province

Very gusty Altai to Khovd road with endless wind twirls


Onward and onward, strange to have 550kms/330 miles of paved road sandwiched between two dirt sections. While on one of our regular breaks, a lone motorcycle appears from the west. We meet out first ever Turkish adventure rider. Discussion as always quickly turns to road conditions. He informs us that the dirt section we have decided to attempt is “Hell”. Humm… not what we wanted to know, our riding barometer for dirt is swinging from fair to rain. Not a confidence booster. A truck is coming back into the equation.

Somewhat unsettled by what we have heard, we travel on, the landscape does vary and as the green is replaced by brown, the number of herds decline, but they still treat the road as part of their domain, goats and sheep the worst for movement, cows just stare and horses ignore you.

Nice to see some greenery again as we approach Khovd

Typical Mongolian bike and family

Big sky

Approaching Khovd province

Descending into Khovd

Khovd below


Sparsely populated, only two villages en-route to Khovd exist, neither appeals to us and the landscape does not entice us to camp although I know Anne desperately wants too. Khovd appears over a final rise and we roll into town past the old abandoned Soviet era coal fired power station, I cannot imagine this was either efficient or environmentally friendly. We are now seeking hotels, the usual end of day occupation when we meet two riders, Gilles and Lino, French and Italian respectively with the same agenda. I find an english speaking local who will guide us, Gilles and Lino chat to the nearest pretty girl, typical.

The black car stopped to help us and we picked up a Frenchman and Italian along the way


As we follow our guide’s car to a couple of hotels, trying to find one with running water, it becomes apparent Lino is in a lot of pain. We learn he crashed four times today on the unpaved section we plan to cross and thinks he has a broken leg, later confirmed at Khovd hospital. What comes after rain on the barometer, stormy?

While Lino is at the hospital, we have dinner with Gilles, visit the local square and hospital to check on Lino. He is discharged with a nice white plaster-cast and back at the hotel they assess the road with terms such “worst road conditions I have ever come across” and “nightmare” – crashing four times may influence one’s view, but you get the general direction. We leave Lino to sleep on the lobby couch while his plaster-cast sets, he has no crutches and declines a group offer to carry him upstairs, probably to avoid the fifth crash of the day.

Won those prizes on Khovd town square with Gilles

Lino with his fresh plastercast and Gilles


Anne had earlier in the evening spoken to Tsoogii, the English speaking sister of our hotel finding guide, asking if he could drive Lino to the hospital once he was checked into the hotel, and took the opportunity to ask her if they knew of any truck drivers in town who could take us to Ulgii. She would call us tomorrow morning.

After a fractured night’s sleep we are up early and packed, conscious of the impending holiday and our need to depart today. Tsoogii comes through with a truck, a friend of her husband’s. People are always willing to help, it’s natural and worldwide In a couple of hours, we have said goodbye to Gilles and Lino, Lino will be heading home his trip over, but he was almost to his destination Ulan Baatar having started in Italy. Well done.

Tsoogii, the black car driver’s sister, helped us find another truck


Loading is easier, just find a dirt bank to back the truck up to. No ramps with nasty foot traps as in our previous loading excursion.

Much easier loading of the bikes in Khovd


On board and tied down, we are off, over the river and choose your track. I have realised that the Mongolian dirt roads with multiple choice within multiple choice route selections are a little like the old dungeons and dragons games. Multiple doors and passageways. Some contain fair roads and others sand traps, vicious corrugations or just disappear in totally the wrong direction having started parallel to the correct route. Regular local drivers, such as ours, know which to take to avoid the harshest terrain. We start by staying off the main track for the first 10 kms/6 miles and then went over a different mountain pass to the main mapped route, all good local knowledge.

Outside Khovd, preparing for Naadam tomorrow


Which way?

Glad we are not riding this…

Multiple lanes sometimes merge into one narrow one

Sudden soft patches are the worst

More sand on our way to Ulgii


It was possible we could have ridden a fair part of this route, not in a day, but we would never have selected each junction correctly in the first place. I understand why so many have struggled with this section, given the impossible task of correctly choosing the best path at each junction.

Roadworks paralleled this route for most of the day, I think within two years it will be paved highway. Reminding me of bleached bones in the desert, twisted black tyre strips dot the landscape, a constant reminder of the harsh nature of the terrain we are crossing. We cross paths with a number of horse laden trucks heading for the Ulgii Naadam, our driver looks intently at the horses, possibly competition for his horses? They do love their horses here.

Horses being transported for a Naadam festival somewhere

At last, some green again

Somewhere between Khovd and Ulgii

The desert is always full of delicate surprises

More desert flowers


Holding a 10kg eagle

Mongolian eagle


Back on tar after 7 hours to cover the 180kms/110 miles of dirt and we want our driver to return home, it’s a long day’s round trip, so an embankment, truck tyres and the three of us unload Streak and Storm . Back on board our steeds and along side Lake Tolbo then down into Ulgii.

Time to unload Streak and Storm

Outside Ulgii – pity we don’t have time to stop here for a few days

Outside Ulgii

Outside Ulgii

Coming into Ulgii

That’s right, just pull out in front of us, you’re bigger!!


A fortuitous meeting in the centre of town leads us to stay in a gur overnight, something Anne has been looking forward to since we entered Mongolia. We are also able to confirm that the border does close tomorrow, the 10th of July for six days, the manager knows an official at the border she called and checked for us. In Ulgii, Tsoogii who was helping us had looked online and called the immigration info number to confirm the closure dates. Both options said call the border post, which did not answer. In this modern information age we still needed the mobile/cell number of someone working there to confirm the dates!

Our night in a ger

Our ger, with the door open


A couple of hours’ ride on the morning of the 10th brought us to the Mongolian immigration and customs post, (see Visas and Borders for details). Four and a half hours later we are back in Russia, ahead of the six day border closure.

On our way to the Mongolian border at Tsagaannuur

Our last hour in Mongolia

Watch the goats!

Watch the yaks!

Bye bye Mongolia – so raw, so beautiful


Russian border an hour later


So how does Serendipity fit into all this? If we had not made the decisions we did regarding the truck travel based on others’ assessment of road conditions, we would now be stuck in Mongolia, our plans setback by a minimum of three weeks, assuming all went well in getting a new Russian visa in Ulaan Baatar. We would have to shorten our route to London, probably just back through Russia to Europe, so Serendipity it is.

– Anthony

Jul 8 2017

Mongolian Trilogy Part 2 – Trucking to Altai

It is a strange morning for us. We wake up in Bayangkhangor knowing we have made the right decision to order a truck to transport the bikes and ourselves across the 280kms of corrogation and sand. Walking from hotel to hotel last night, searching for a room, reminded me of how tough today would have been for me everytime we picked either Streak or Storm from napping along the way. Walking at over 1800 metres altitude after a day in the saddle has got me out of breath and today will get even higher.

The truck owner knocks on our hotel door at 6.40am, a little earlier than planned but we are ready. After a bit of confusion as to why a taxi also turned up, we set off following truck and taxi across town to an empty yard with a ramp to load the bikes. It is not the easiest of angles and after loading his bike, Anthony kindly offers to ride Streak for me if I’d like – yes please, especially as the second bike will have an even tighter turning space. But with the taxi driver, the truck owner and truck driver, they all lift the back of Streak to spin it around on its front wheel with Anthony precariously hanging on. By 8am, the bikes are loaded and securely strapped, payment is made, the owner proudly shows me that he swapped the completely bald and cracking front tyres for us, having noticed my concern the evening before when they brought the truck over and promised to change them, and we’re ready to go.

Loading our bikes in Bayankhongor for Altai

As we pile into the cosy truck cabin, I look back at Streak and Storm – it seems like they are asking mum and dad why they are not with us.

Streak and Storm looking perplexed

Our driver Baltar is a cautious driver, obviously aware of the truck’s limitations but it is soon apparent that he has no idea of the way!! He stops a few times asking other drivers for directions. So out comes my mobile with MapsMe. MapsMe is a fantastic tool: download the maps you may need and you can then use it without the need for internet/comms access. As you will see from the photos, there are often numerous route options, generally merging back to a couple before branching out again. But occasionally, one left hand track that seems to run parallel at first will eventually take you in the wrong direction. We understand how easy it is to get lost and completely off track.

Which way now? Any but the far left one


An hour out of Bayankhongor, Baltar suddenly starts whistling and singing. It is beautiful, soulful. It reminds me of Aboriginals singing for their country. Something is happening for Baltar, it feels to me like he is coming home. Then suddenly, over the rise, we see a camp being built. It is his family! He asks if we want to stop – of course! An opportunity for Anthony to lend a hand with building a ger. Baltar seems happy to have given us this experience.

Over the course of day, as we approached an obvious ‘junction’, Baltar would simply look at me to ask me which way, a quick left or right sign, and our course is adjusted or corrected. At times, I would point out to Baltar where the official route was but as we are travelling parallel, within 500 to a 1000 metres, we are ok.

As we encounter different surfaces, both Anthony and I would comment on how manageable we felt the road would have been for us. Occasionally, there were sandy patches but they were not too long – just treacherous as you can be zipping along a hard surface then suddenly hit a soft patch and your front wheel digs in and over you go. Being the slow speeds, we feel we could have ridden the road. That’s at the start of the journey. But after hours and hours of relentless corrugation, we are grateful we made the choice we made. It would have been a long, tedious, uncomfortable and even unpleasant slog. A totally miserable route. We are glad we made the decision to take truck.

Glad we are not riding this…

Traffic travels on any track it wants or makes


In the middle of nowhere – what is this?


Ger with all the modcons


Then when we get to the river that split into 3 branches, again, we are grateful.

We get a tow across the water as the truck’s air filter is too low


Knock the battery connection back into place every time we stop


Time to dig…

It is a bouncy and dusty ride. We get the inevitable puncture.

And now a flat


Good time to tighten the straps again


More camels!


Endless corrugation or washboard


It took us 10 hours to drive the 280km section. By the time we get to the pristine tar with just another 100kms to go, we are all exhausted, and especially Baltar. The concentration has been intense for him. At 50kms an hour, it takes us another couple of hours to get to Altai. We could have unloaded the bikes and riden the tar section but we didn’t want to leave Baltar out there, knowing he would probably drive straight back. We realise how tired he is so Anthony plays upbeet music from his phone which Baltar enjoys and I feed Baltar biscuits, chocolates and whatever snacks we have left. Baltar tells us each make of car going the other way or where they are from, Prius, Ulaanbaator, Toyota etc. We all know what is happening here: trying to keep Baltar awake.

It took us 12 hours to from Bayankhongor to Altai. We drive straight to a hotel I have simply picked on MapsMe, the Entym hotel, and book 2 rooms. Baltar wants to unload the bikes tonight and return straight to Bayankhongor. As luck would have it of course, someone comes up and chats to us in Russian not expecting us to speak Mongolian. I am struggling to understand everything and try to ask for his help in getting a ramp from the hotel staff so he calls out to his family already on the top floor of the hotel to come down!!

We now have a superb interpreter: Josh explains that he is 11 years old, lives in Chicago, has a Mongolian mother who decided it was time he spent his school holidays in Mongolia so that he can connect with his heritage. I ask Josh to explain to Baltar that we are worried for him and feel he should not be driving home when he is so tired and that we have booked a room for him. Baltar thanks us and tells us via Josh that to experience Mongolia fully, we should spend time with him and his family… oh how I would love that… The hotel staff find us a ramp and with the help of Josh’s uncles, Streak and Storm are unloaded by 10pm, and we are ready to have a shower before dinner. How amazing to get all this help!! I never thought we would have managed to get the bikes off so easily and quickly.

Thanks Josh – you are an awesome interpreter!

Baltar must have fallen asleep as soon as he got to his room as he didn’t join us for dinner. We are exhausted too yet we just sat all day – what would we have been like had we ridden this stretch?!…

The next morning, Baltar joins us for breakfast. I start using my google translate to communicate with him. It is the first time we have ‘spoken’. All day yesterday, he would simply gesture, realising that talking to us in Mongolian was useless – usually, people end up shouting to make themselves understood!! Baltar would occasionally whisper something ever so gently, but use his hands to converse. His eyes somehow communicated so much. Then suddenly, I am overcome with a terrible sadness. I find myself crying at the breakfast table. I explain to Anthony that I am so sad we were not able to communicate with him. Anthony wisely suggests I should tell Baltar how I feel (writing this is making me choke up again). Baltar looks at me and his eyes say so much. Yes, he says simply in English. We gesture towards our hearts and understand each other. It is hard to say goodbye to Baltar.

Our wonderful driver Baltar

Once again, had we not made the decision we made, that is to take the truck, we would have missed out on meeting Baltar, witnessed his connection to his land, heard his soulful singing, and experienced his warmth and gentleness or met Josh. We dreaded this day and now we have the most wonderful memories…

– Anne