Discovering the world on $20 per day ......................




Post 84: Towards Ulan-Ude



We’re in Ulan-Ude and about to head out on the eastern leg of our journey across Russia. Progress will be slow and Internet access scarce. If I’m not on-line for a week or so then that dose not mean that we’re having problems, ….. it just means that Russia is rather large.

Last night almost 100km short of Ulan-Ude, Alan dropped his bike whilst negotiating a deep muddy track. This is the third time that he’s fallen but thankfully each time the Triumph-Online engine protectors have saved his bike from serious damage. All of these accidents could just as easily have happened to me, it’s simply a question of ‘luck’ and has absolutely nothing to do with experience. The road conditions here are less than ideal, often changing without notice and low speed ‘spills’ are part and parcel of overland travelling.

The accidents have understandably knocked his confidence and it feels as if he’s now beginning to see problems in everything that we do. Unfortunately I seem to view these things a little differently and while I never want anybody to have accidents, I understand that we’re riding around the world and should expect things to be more difficult than riding at home.

Today Alan’s mentioned several times that he likes the idea of placing the bikes on the Trans Siberian Railway (TSR) for the final 3,200 miles to Vladivostok. Reports of the road conditions to the east of us from Chita and along the Amur Highway are not good. We talk to drivers of this road at every opportunity and there is a reported 200 mile stretch of totally broken road and mud ahead of us with the remaining 3,000 miles being far less than perfect. I’m no more skilful a rider than Alan and I share the same fears, …….. but I’m also determined to ride all of the way to Vladivostok.

If Alan’s confidence doesn’t return in the next couple of days, and understandably it might not, then it would be great for him to travel to Vladivostok on the TSR, to arrive ahead of me and to arrange for onward passage to Alaska. It will just be a ‘different experience’ for both of us and sharing our stories afterwards will be a fantastic way to pass our time together in North America.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 83: Lake Baikal to Bolshoi Banet



Returning to Irkutsk after the beauty of Baikal was hard for the system to absorb; traffic, smog, grime, chaos, …… but fortunately we made it in one piece. Rik would be with us for another two days and as a member of ‘CouchSurfers.Com’ had arranged to stay with ‘Spike’, an English Teacher here in Irkutsk. Unfortunately our re-arrival coincided with ‘Spike’ being away with a group of mature students somewhere on the south of Irkutsk called ‘Bolshoi Banet’. With no real plan but a burning desire to leave the city, … we headed south.

After about an hour of riding we stopped to stretch our legs and consult the map. Across the road from where we parked was a small blue and white sign, .. ‘Bolshoi Banet’. We took this as an omen and followed one of the worst roads yet for about an hour and eventually arrived at a steel gate with heavy security, …. Welcome to weekend retreats in Siberia.

After a short delay, ‘Spike’ was contacted and in turn sent word back to security that we were actually ‘good sorts’ and the gates were opened. We rode along tracks between wooden huts and exclusive Dacha’s that had all seen slightly better days before arriving at a small cluster of wooden pavilions. Spike and several other teachers were here at the camp with mature students on a weekend of activities where the only language spoken would be English.

After a warm welcome we were shown to our own private hut and provided with bedding for the night. It was already approaching midnight when we arrived but the students invited us to join in the final activities of the day. It was fantastic to meet such an amazing and energetic group of young people who all showed a genuine interest in what we were doing, the people we had met and the places we had seen. We’d been on the road for fourteen hours, we hadn’t showered or shaved for four days and were basically totally exhausted, ….. so to the students and teachers we apologise if we seemed a little less than sprightly that evening.

The next morning after communal breakfast we talked and answered questions, posed and took photographs with, and of, the students sitting on the bikes. I was moved by the enthusiasm that these young guys had for life and living, … without exception they had an energy and positive outlook that seems to have vanished in England, …. these were just amazingly happy and well rounded young people.

It is difficult to mention any of the students or their kind acts by name but I personally received a ‘Pink Ribbon Talisman’ that had a special message and was tied to my bike, a young lady called Toni insisted that I take with me a medal that she’d won the previous day and Amy slipped a lovely note into my jacket wishing all of us the very best of luck for the rest of our journey. Just as we were about to leave a young and vibrant blonde girl who had shown great interest in our journey almost brought me to tears with the generosity of her wishes and words of encouragement, …… and I know that Alan and Rik were the recipients of similar gestures.

As we rode away from the camp and headed for Ulan-Ude and the final day with Rik, I felt that if these young people were typical of the youth within Russia, …… then Russia’s future will be very bright indeed.

To ‘Spike’, the teachers and the students at the Bolshoi Banet Camp, …. We thank you for your hospitality, your inspiration and we really hope that you’ll stay in touch through our email address.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 82: Lake Baikal



We were all silent as we took down our makeshift camp and loaded the bikes to leave the Island of Ol’Chon. It is by far the most beautiful place that Poor Circulation has visited so far. If we ever experiences other places that can compare to this, ….. then we will count ourselves to be very fortunate indeed.

We’d covered just over 10,000 miles to reach this place and on our way back to the mainland Rik and I had a special treat in store for Alan. Unwilling to risk further falls on the sandy tracks, Alan had missed the opportunity to travel with Rik and myself to Nikita’s the previous day. Nikita is a former Russian Olympian who has developed his large home on Ol’Chon into an oasis for overland travellers. It is famous for it’s hospitality and the sheer beauty of it’s location, … and rightly so.

From the rear of a complex of buildings that Nikita lets out to travellers there is quite simply one of the most beautiful and peaceful places on this earth. A lush grass slope runs down to a sheer cliff overhangs Lake Baikal below. Single trees stand upright against the force of gravity and mirror a tall white rock rising proudly and defiantly from the silent, still and pure blue waters of the lake. The cows and crickets make the only noise here and if any people do enter this area, …. they do so in voluntary silence. It is spectacular and mind blowing, …. you can only stand in silence whilst admiring one of natures finest offerings and absorbing all that you can see and feel.

On this leaving day I led Alan along the better of the roads and took him as close to Nikita’s as possible. We were within fifty meters of Nikita’s when I finally stopped the bike and invited him to walk down to the cliff with me. Unfortunately Alan felt that it would be better is we made our way back to the ferry and onto the mainland as quickly as possible. It’s difficult to describe exactly how disappointed I felt at that precise moment, .. not for myself but for Alan. I was excited about seeing his expression when this amazing sight unfolded before him, ….. we’d ridden more than 10,000 miles and Alan had the once in a lifetime opportunity to experience one of the finest locations in the world.

I’ve had several accidents over the years and I can really empathise with the fact that Alan’s lost some confidence. We’re riding heavy bikes on marginal roads but I hope that over the coming days he can overcome this and begin to relax more and enjoy the journey. We always knew that riding around the world would not be the easiest thing to do and that the roads across Russia would at times be difficult, …. so it’s just something that we’ve both just got to get on with.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 81: Towards Baikal


We spent two nights camped above the beach overlooking the lake. I cooked ‘Ponnini’ that we’d bought from the local market, we ate local smoked fish, smoked sausage and we drank beer and vodka cooled to perfection in the freezing waters of the lake. For forty-eight glorious hours we simply kicked back and generally chilled out. After eight weeks of travelling this first real break felt like absolutely heaven to all of us.

With Rik and myself being absolute ‘City Boys’, Alan was left in charge of campfires but he was still hesitant to ride along the dunes. We all collected firewood during the day and as darkness fell (around midnight), the smoke from the fire would deter any mosquitoes that were still foolish enough to risk contamination from biting three travelling and unwashed bikers. As the local supply of wood became scarce, Rik and I would ride off to further fields in search of new sources. (In Siberia, … you don’t usually need to look far for wood). On one of our ‘Wood Gathering Expeditions’, Rik decided to demonstrate the supremacy of his competition ready BMW over my humble ‘Street Bike Tiger’. I watched with much amusement as Rik entered an area of deep bog and slowed to an embarrassing halt. He pushed, he pulled, he panted and if I had paid more attention at school, … I could probably also confirm that he swore profusely. After an appropriately long yet diplomatic delay, I eventually stifled my laughter, started the Triumph and rode down to help Rik to extract his bike from the silt like mud which was by now slowly swallowing his once infallible machine. For forty-eight hours Rik had been offering his advice on all aspects of our lives in general and motorcycling in particular. I chose this moment to impart a little of my own basic knowledge thus, …… ‘Rik my friend, …. In Siberia if it’s ‘Green & Lush’, ….. it’s not a football pitch, … it’s a bog’, …. I do believe he nodded in agreement.

As we laid the BMW flat and dragged it from the squelching mud, …. we exchanged knowing glances, .. both of us aware that the proud orange Tiger stood above us on firm ground silhouetted against the evenings sun, …. It was indeed a beautiful moment. My revenge however was short lived as my final act of assistance involved standing at the rear of the bike while Rik attempted to ride it out of the mire. Yes, ….. I was covered from head to foot in mud while Rik rode off towards the shallow shore of Lake Baikal to clean his bike, ……. Cheers.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 80: Towards lake Bailkal



(This ‘Post’ was missed and has been added later)

It’s been a busy night at the brothel, on the table amongst the beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays a large strongbox is open and overflowing with 1,000 Rubel notes. The girls look red eyed and white faced as I waltz into the bar at 8am and greet them with a cheery Russian ‘Good Morning’, … their returned smiles are polite but weary, a stark contrast to those of the previous evening. The heavy steel external door suddenly jars opens and the small claustrophobic room is instantly filled with morning sunlight as the silhouettes of two broad and purposeful figures fill the entrance. As the two men enter, the muzzle of the first jet-black AK47 points towards the floor, … the second towards the ceiling, …. neither of the black clad men are smiling. Caught between intrigue and cowardice, I stand my ground and eventually hold out a cautious hand in their direction, ….. ‘Priviet’. A moment’s silence is followed by the flash of gold teeth, … my hand is taken and clenched in a vice like grip, .. ‘Anglian, .. Motorshikl?’, … the conversation is brief and I quickly understand that their interests lay elsewhere in the room. I take my coffee and decide that this is as good a time as any to inspect the security of our bikes parked outside in the yard.

With little hope of ever seeing my stolen goods again we collect Rick’s passport from the Mongolian Embassy and head north out of Irkutsk towards the island of ‘Ol’Chon’. The smog and congestion of the city are soon washed away as the cityscape turns once again to steppe and the road for a while becomes satisfyingly smooth and almost winding. The route that we need to take is closed for road repairs, … but this is Russia, .. we swerve around the barrier and continue heading North towards Lake Baikal.

The Mongolian influence is very evident here in the faces of the people, … the roadside statues have changed in character along with the village names and I begin to notice the appearance of ‘Shaman’ talisman trees along the route. At one such tree I stop and tear off a strip of old cloth. I tie the strip around a branch of the tree and tip my loose change onto the ground along with the cigarettes and lighters that are already there, … and I make my wish.

We board the ferry for Ol’Chon and memories of our attempted exit from Albania return. The ferry is old, .. it has the same broken boarding ramp and has thus become a ‘Roll-On Reverse Off’ vessel, …… a situation made more interesting by the number of Lada’s boarding that are towing fully loaded trailers. The journey takes less than thirty minutes and the people aboard the ferry are silent. For the first time on ‘Poor Circulation’ our motorbikes are ignored as the people quite rightly concentrate all of their senses on the surrounding lake and landscape, …. it is just an amazingly beautiful place.

The air here is fresh and clear and the waters are still with a slight shroud of pure white mist, …. it reminds me of my favourite place in this world, …. Lake Dahl in Kashmir. Even above the throbbing of the vessels ancient diesel engines there is a serenity about both of these locations that is so difficult to find and absolutely impossible to explain. Lake Baikal is geographically almost at the centre of Russia, …. but if anybody ever has the chance to visit, … then they will not be disappointed.

We cross Lake Baikal, the world’s deepest lake, heading towards one of the world centres of Shamanism. Two months earlier and we could have ridden onto the island as Lake Baikal would still have been frozen. The island of Ol’Chon is connected to the mainland during the summer months by ferry and in winter by the frozen road. In spring and summer the Island is cut-off for several weeks as the ice is too thin for vehicles and too thick for the ferry. As I was about to discover, …… if you can choose a location where you are ever to be disconnected form the world at large, then Ol’Chon is certainly a venue to consider.

The road towards the ferry had been ‘marginal’, … but the road from the ferry was if anything slightly worse. The tarmac had ended some sixty miles earlier and the hard packed stone had now turned to loose packed sand. The Tiger’s (and riders) are not best suited to these conditions and our progress was slow. On the other hand Rik was in his Germanic element on the ‘Dakar Spec’ BMW and doing his utmost to make us look like the amateurs that we clearly are, ….. but revenge would be sweet, … if served slightly chilled. Rik has turned out to be a really great guy to have around. Soon after we first met him on the road he made the statement that ‘German’s have no sense of humour’, … and we have tested this to the limit with him. Rik does tend to take things quite literally, … a trait that Alan and I take full advantage of and Rik quite happily plays along, …. he’s really a cool guy.

We passed ‘Nikita’s’ homestead (more of which later) and headed for an isolated spot where we could camp peacefully and undisturbed for a couple of nights. (i.e. without receiving constant invitations to all-night Vodka parties). As we headed onto a small peninsula the road turned to deep sand and dunes where your throttle is your only saviour. Unfortunately every road riding instinct tells you to slow down when danger is upon you, ….. but in loose sand this will spell disaster as the front wheel buries itself and all stability is lost. With the little ‘off road’ experience that I have, I mostly managed to avoid the constant temptation to close the throttle and with more good luck than good judgement, .. I eventually made it through. Alan had a little less good fortune and managed to drop the Tiger in some particularly deep ruts. There was no real damage to the bike but with his foot trapped beneath the hard panniers it was the end of his riding for the day. I set off and found a campsite before walking back to ride Alan’s bike back through the trickier areas while he hobbled behind swearing loudly to the accompaniment of a myriad of mosquitoes, … welcome to Lake Baikal.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 79: Irkutsk


As the ‘Brothel’ charges by the hour and we’ve paid for a full day, …. we don’t need to ‘check-out’ until 10pm. We call a taxi and ride into the city under dark skies and torrential rain. The roads and pavements are totally flooded, … both pedestrians and vehicles making progress where they can. We’re dropped off on Karl Marks Street and head for the Mongolian Embassy in order to secure Rick’s visa. They will not accept money and payment for the visa has to be made through a particular bank in the city. We head off and find the bank but they can’t complete the transaction at that branch. We find the second branch and then the third and finally the fourth, .. all stating that it is only the ‘next branch’ of this particular bank that can meet his needs, … welcome to Russia.

We avoid the rain and dive into a café for relief. Across the floor, above the heads of several diners, …. I see two waving hands, … beneath them the beaming smiles of Fred and Asi our Swiss overland friends that we’d last seen heading east some three days earlier. We share stories over good coffee and arrange to meet again at 7pm to go for dinner.

We return to the first bank and amazingly find that the very same cashier who had earlier refused Rick’s transaction is now happy to complete it. He pays the money and we take the receipt back to the Mongolian Embassy, ….. which is now closed. We smile into the security camera, … we wave papers and money and finally a returning employee allows Rick to enter. The visa will be ready for collection in 48 hours.

With time to kill, .. we wander the markets of Irkutsk and stock up on smoked sausages, fruit, herbs and spices before moving on to an internet café. It’s dark, the computers are old and teenagers occupy most of the booths. We read emails and update our blog’s as best we can between computer crashes and power failures, …… we long for public WiFi.

At 7pm we meet Fred and Asi as arranged but there’s a problem, ….. my 'false wallet', telephone and camera are missing from the zipped pockets of my jacket. I return to the internet café, … now teaming with even more teenagers. I explain the problem of the ‘lost’ items but they have not been found. I point to the security camera’s high on the ceiling and the kids immediately find their computer games far more interesting than the scruffy ‘Anglian’. I’m invited to return the next morning to review the tapes but hold little hope of ever seeing the camera or telephone again. It’s not something that I’m worried about, …… the camera was cheap and I’d transferred most pictures to my laptop but the cell phone is slightly more complicated. I think I’ve got most numbers backed-up on my second phone, …. but so far in Russia my second phone hasn’t found a signal.

On a brighter note, … Alan’s cashcard is working again and as soon as I find a new camera, .. I'll post more pictures.


www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 78: Irkutsk


It was almost eight in the evening when we enter the city of Irkutsk and just beginning to rain. The black clouds and lightening had been following us for the last few hundred miles and our fortune with good weather had finally come to an end. We’d been away from the Internet for ten days and our plan was to use ‘Lonely Planet’ to find a cheap hostel for the night, spend the next day arranging a Mongolian Visa for Rick before heading out to Lake Baikal for a few days ‘R&R’. Poor Circulation had reached Irkutsk in one piece, two weeks ahead of schedule and a few shillings under budget.

I spend most of my life riding in and around London, often in bad weather, …. but nothing will ever prepare you for riding through Irkutsk in the rain. To add to this challenge, … my bike is cutting-out every few meters, refusing to start and generally trying to throw me overboard at every opportunity, … and this I can tell you is not even close to being ‘fun’. Using a sketch map of the city we eventually find the first hotel but they insist that our Russian Visa’s are not ‘in order’ and refuse to let us stay. It’s more likely that they simply objected to having three dirty wet bikers soiling their premises, ……. and to be truthful I can hardly blame them. We found the second hotel but unfortunately the only available room was far too small for three and the price too high for the Poor Circulation budget. We were standing on the pavement in the rain and discussing our limited options when a car pulled alongside us, …. ‘can we help you?’

A young couple who spoke English were rapidly on their telephones and within thirty minutes were leading us to a hotel in the ‘Business District’ of Irkutsk. We were warned that this hotel charged by the hour, … we were not to leave the hotel after dark and that it might well be a little ‘noisy’ during the nigh. Yes, … we are currently holed up in the finest budget brothel that Irkutsk has to offer, ….. but at less than £20 per night for three beds, secure parking for the bikes and hot radiators on which to dry our laundry, ….. it’s almost perfect.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 77: Towards Irkutsk



We’d met Rick from Germany on his much modified BMW R100GS just east of Kansk when we’d stopped to remove a broken chain-guard from Alan’s bike (mine had broken in the same way several days before). The roads were now a combination of sand, gravel and mud but we were still averaging around four hundred miles per day and should actually reach Irkutsk ahead of schedule, ……. unless it rains.

I rode into the forest in search of a rough campground before returning to the road and leading Alan and Rick towards a good piece of land about half a mile from the road where we’d be totally out of sight. (Rough camping, even here in Siberia, is best done well away from the attention of others). We collected wood from the forest and quickly started a ‘smoky fire’, which helps to keep the giant man-eating mosquitoes away, before pitching tents and turning our talents to cooking. We eat pasta and fresh bread washed down with beer and freshly squeezed cok (fruit juice) that we’d purchased a few hours earlier from a roadside vendor. Being careful not to let any of the local wildlife join us, it’s almost 1am and still light when we damp down the fire and climb into our separate tents to sleep.

That night we had our first, and hopefully last, encounter with the Russian Black Bear. It’s something that we’ve joked about since leaving Volgograd but had never really expected to happen. At first I heard and felt the movement of a large animal, ….. followed by the sound of heavy breathing just behind my tent. It was taking its time, moving slowly around the camp, .. sniffing and prowling, probably intrigued by what it had found. For a good ten minutes I lay still and silent, watching it’s silhouette against the wall of the tent and trying to remember what the difference was between Black and Brown Bears, ….. which one climbed the tree to eat you and which one just knocked the tree down down to eat you?. Eventually, and thankfully, it lost interest in the three malnourished travellers and went off in search of tastier treats.

In the morning I’d expected both Alan and Rick to laugh at my story, ….. but they’d been awake, they’d heard and seen the same things and had been just as terrified as myself. It’s great that we’ve encountered the famous Siberian Bear, …… but unless all future bears are wearing blue duffel coats, … then I hope it’s an experience not to be repeated.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 76: Novisibirsk


Just as Alan’s cashcard refused him any access and politely asked him to call into the local branch of his bank, we met Fred and Asi. Driving a modified Toyota Hilux from their homes in Switzerland they’re heading down into China. We talked for a while, exchanged email addresses and moved on.
Several hours later we stopped to talk with Roland, a cyclist from Germany making his way down into China and overcoming many additional challenges to do so. Just as we finished filling his MRS with fuel, … Fred and Asi arrived and brewed coffee for us all. I set out in search of a camping ground and the five travellers spent a night beside an unknown river sharing stories and vodka in equal measures.
The next morning we set off at our separate paces, …. perhaps never to see them again. It seems that throughout Russia we’ve never actually travelled alone and this new day would end by us meeting Rick, a BMW rider heading also to Mongolia.
www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 75: Polish Bikers to Mongolia


We’re making good progress on bad roads and the police are no longer a problem. It’s our habit to stop whenever we see other ‘Overlanders’ and exchange information, replenish supplies, exchange spare parts etc. This is especially true when we meet cyclists where we’ll replenish their water and cooking fuel.
Just after breakfast we passed Brian, an overland cyclist from California heading to Hong Kong. (http://www.briansride.net/). Brian is the fourth person that we’ve met so far who has been to Boonville in California. Given that the official population of Boonville is probably around 1,000 people, …. it’s one mighty famous place and Alan is really looking forward to seeing exactly why so many people know of it. We chatted with Brian for about an hour and then moved on to enter Asia for the second time.
At the ‘Asia Line’ we met up with five Polish guys on an assortment of bikes . They were heading down to Mongolia for six weeks of off-road riding and were celebrating their first entry into Asia by each having their hair fashioned in an unusual pattern. I was invited to join in the celebration but it’s taken me forty years to loose this much hair and I don’t need any assistance with rest, …. thank you very much, .. but niyet.
For three days we rode long miles with these guys and spent three nights rough camping and drinking Vodka and Raki together around campfires in Siberia. When our paths parted just west of Novisibirsk it was sad to see them go and so very tempting to follow them. We wish them all the best and hope that one day our paths will cross again

Post 74: Samara


The road surfaces are deteriorating and progress is difficult. In the sidebar (hopefully), I’ve added a video taken from my bike on a normal stretch of the M5, Russia’s premier road. The video is totally genuine and wasn’t taken on a particularly bad stretch of road. You’ll see from the footage that even the ‘Good Roads’ here are to be approached with caution. We try to break each day down into 50 mile intervals with long relaxing breaks in between. Alan is suffering from ‘Poor Circulation’ in his legs, which is a result of his long time diabetes. Unfortunately this means that he’s in pain for a lot of the day. Other than that we’re actually holding up quite well considering that we were both too old and unfit to begin with.
Today we stopped for lunch, Borsch and Bead, and noticed a collection of very serious and professional rally vehicles joining the M50 from a small side road. We set out to follow them and eventually caught up at a ‘Catering Camp’ some 20 miles north. The trucks, cars and bikes were all taking part in the ‘Rally Trans-Oriental’ and heading for Kazakhstan. They were between ‘Stages’ and moving on loose convoy to the next checkpoint. We chatted with them for a while, swapped stories and took photographs before wishing them well and heading on our way.
In Russia most people will wave at us or honk their horns, .. quite a few will even stop their cars and come over to take photographs of the bikes. What we now noticed was totally different. On coming cars had camera lenses hung from open windows filming our approach, …. flashes emitted from darkened security windows and bystanders waved and cheered as we rode past.
At the first Police Checkpoint the officers saluted and waved us through, .. cars pulled to the side of the road and allowed us to pass unobstructed, …. everybody assumed that we were part of the Rally Trans-Oriental. Taking full advantage of the authorities liberal application of highway rules in respect of the Rally Teams, we kept pace with the massive Man and Kamaz trucks, .. we slipstreamed the official Mitsubishi Works vehicles and generally had an absolute ball. At one point we were even followed and filmed by a television crew in a helicopter, … ‘Team Poor Circulation’ had arrived.
Sadly it could not last forever. We crested the brow of a hill and faced before us the lens of a Police Speed-Trap and the wrath of a young and enthusiastic Police Officer, .. oops! We were waved to the side of road, .. we stopped, switched off the engines and reached for our documents as the officer approached. Quickly thinking of possible excuses for the obvious speed violation I wondered just how close we would be to the nearest Gulag. I was amazed when the Officer simply reached out his hand and shook mine firmly, … ‘Wrong way Deutsch Man, .. Kazakhstan this way’ ….. he waved his baton towards the east. (Everybody in Russia assumes that we are German). I smiled and explained that we were ‘Leaving’ the Rally temporarily in order to visit good friends in the city of Ufa. This seemed to please the Officer and after a deep conversation about the beauty of rally vehicles and several photographs, …… Team Poor Circulation had exited the ‘Rally Trans-Oriental’ and was on-track to reach Ufa on schedule.
Best of luck to all of those taking part in and organising the Rally Trans-Oriental, … thank you for your hospitality and maybe one day ‘Team Riders Digest’ will accept your kind offer to compete.

Post 73: Saratov


The roads heading north were to be kind, .. variable, but at least the Police were waving us straight through at every checkpoint. Our aim was to complete three consecutive three hundred mile days and reach the city of Ufa by Monday. On any normal roads this would be simple, …. but this is Russia.
Approaching Saratov was met a group of bikers who had been away for three days trail riding around the Volgograd area. They rode an assortment of Japanese trail bikes including Africa Twin 750’s, DR800’s and a never before seen Africa Twin 250. We chatted for about an hour, they had places to be and the hoped for offer of free lodgings did not materialise, ….. and so we all moved on.
Following the map, we bypassed Saratov and headed for the main M5 motorway which would take us onwards to Samara and then Ufa and the beginning of Siberia. After about 20 miles and without warning, .. the road we had taken simply came to an end with an army checkpoint, a steel and razor wire barrier and two confident looking soldiers blocking our path. I consulted the map and realised that the only alternate route would take us at least 50 miles off course, …… and so I smiled and re-entered my CitySprint Courier Mode.
With no common language between us, we eventually established that this section of road had not yet been built and it was currently being used as a military training ground. The area towards the M50 was not only very ‘sensitive’, but also extremely ‘dangerous’.
After several photographs, the liberal distribution of Poor Circulation badges and a signed copy of the Riders Digest, ….. the barrier was lowered and an army officer in his Uaz Jeep escorted us some 20 miles across unmade road and open ground, .. at great speed, and onto the M5 Motorway. It is impossible to imagine this happening in England, …… but here in Russia our new friend Roman has taught us that anything is possible.

Post 72: Leaving Volgograd


We leave Volgograd under overcast skies which perfectly reflect our moods. Roman and Slava come to wave us goodbye before enjoying a day together on their boat. We're riding north along the Volga we hope to make Ufa in three days, …. the Volga is a very long river. Every mile north feels like a miles wasted and a mile further from the protection that we had been afforded in Volgograd. The day is uneventful, the roads congested and the going is slow. We stop for fuel around sunset and ask about the availability of camping.

It may be coincidence, but Poor Circulation have without fail accidentally asked the right question of the right person at the right time, ….. on every occasion. The man beckoned his son ‘Serge’ who spoke a little English. They owned the Motel at the rear of the filling station, … we were welcome to stay as their guests, … free of charge.

The room provided for us was actually and old cargo container now posing as an outbuilding but it gave us everything that we could possibly need. We shared the room with a cat, four tiny kittens and a serious collection of erotic art, … a perfect end to an otherwise uneventful day.

Post 71: Volgograd



It’s now 12th June, Russia’s National Day and a holiday for all. The bikes are ready and we’re going to ride north for two days up the River Volga before turning east and heading for Irkutsk. However, Roman screeches to a halt in front of the hotel, …. he has plans. Firstly he informs us with a huge smile that we’ll have ‘No Worry’ with Mafia in Siberia, …. he waves his mobile phone and we trust him, …… Roman has ‘Friends’.
The good people of Volgograd are out and about in their Sunday finest. We arrive at the Quay and admire the boats cruising up and down this huge river. One boat seems to be travelling much faster than all of the others, it leaves a plume of water that is visible from a great distance. This particular boat, a little larger and fancier than all of the others, is heading for the quay where we stand. Of course, … this boat belongs to Slava ‘Priviet Geoff and Alan, …… Russian Boat, …. fastest on all the Volga’. I suspect that ‘Fast Boats’ and ‘Legitimate Businessmen’ go hand in hand in these parts, … but then who are we to complain? We cruise the Volga (at 58 Knots) entertaining the bathers and cruisers while ‘Russian Rock’ blasts from the boats overlarge speakers, … Captain Slava and First Mate Roman are in their element, ….. this is how to live in Volgograd.

That evening we visit the restaurant/bar of the Hotel Tourist where everybody wishes to meet and be photographed with the two mad Englishmen. At the table next to us sit four ladies of the evening. They are as stunning as they fragrant , … they rock gently in unison to the sounds of Euro-Trash and smile to all and sundry. Gentleman callers sit with them for minutes, purchase drinks and then move on to pastures new. In stark contrast to the drab dull interior dйcor of this never exclusive establishment the atmosphere is bright and electric. The girls smile wistfully towards us and we of course smile back. Poor Circulation are killing time and enjoying cheap entertainment whilst the girls have far more commercial motives. And so it is that we bid them farewell and retire early with our virginities and wallets in tact.

It is with great sadness that we have to leave our new best friends behind, … but we will always have the most amazing memories of our time here in Volgograd to look back on. Hopefully there will be future encounters with Roman and Slava, Volgograd’s finest ‘Legitimate Businessmen’, ... but in the morning we move on.

Post 70: Volgograd

The tyres had arrived early and the bikes were in Roman’s new workshop where the two mechanics worked to fit the new rubber and generally check the bikes over. It had been our intention to ride both bikes back to the Hotel Tourist and prepare for an early start in the morning, …. but Alan had forgotten his keys. However, we’re in Volgograd where such minor details are irrelevant.
It’s decided that we’ll stay for an extra day, ….. at our hosts expense. We’re taken on another high-speed tour of the city with Roman and the beautiful Hadjet. Hadjet is intrigued by the story of Poor Circulation and as an interpreter for a Russian oil company speaks perfect English. Again we’re wined and dined and end the evening at a ‘Bikers Bar’ where we meet locals with an assortment of bikes ranging from a ‘Tricked Hyabusa’ to a ‘Chopped Ural’ of uncertain vintage. The mosquitoes are hungry tonight and are feasting on my blood, …. but strangely they leave Alan alone. Hadjet warns me ‘You should fear the mosquito in Siberia, … they are very large’, …. She mimics a helicopter. A ‘Business Associate’ of Roman’s laughs out loud, … ‘don’t worry about the mosquito in Siberia, …. you should only worry about the Mafia’.
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Post 69: Volgograd 4


In Volgograd, room 412 of the Hotel Tourist, Poor Circulation has established ‘Base Camp’. Thanks to the considerable efforts of Roman, our new tyres are working there way south from Moscow and will arrive at 20:10pm on Wednesday 11th June. When Roman says 20:10pm you’re left with the distinct impression that 20:11pm will simply not be acceptable. Roman is the kind of man who makes things happen, …. and so in him we trust.

Although the promised excursion on Slava’s boat along the Volga did not happen; ‘Business Commitments’, the bikes have now been delivered to Roman’s new workshop and a pleasant evening was spent with Roman, Slava and their stunningly beautiful friend Hadjenke. Again we were wined and dined at their expense before being taken for a night time tour of this beautiful city.

In Volgograd the people are rightly proud of their amazing city. In the centre there stands one tree and one solitary building. These are all that remained standing after the siege on Stalingrad in 1943. Everywhere are the reminders of the 1.5 million people who perished here during that time. We’re taken to ‘Pasha’s House’, a corner edifice that was once a building when for one month in 1943 opposing forces fought floor by floor to retain or gain advantage. The line of the street in front of the house marks the thirty meter piece of ground stretching back towards the River Volga, the main piece of land which remained under Russian control and at it’s centre, the last remaining building. A brick built mill with a tall tower, it stands wearing the scars of this battle along side a museum that we are yet to visit.. Everything else in Volgograd, ‘EVERYTHING’, …… has been rebuilt since that time and it is as friendly and inviting as it’s people.

Consider your own local motorcycle dealer in the UK. You wish to purchase two sets of tyres, at cost. The dealer personally spends four hours of his working day sourcing the tyres to fit onto your obscure sized wheels. Unfortunately they’re not available in your own town, ….. but that’s not a problem. At no expense to you, your dealer will have his family purchase the tyres in another city some 1,000km away, carry them across town to a transport depot and arrange for overnight delivery to you. During the delay, your dealer will take you for lunch and dinner whilst providing chauffer driven transport at all times. As the tyres will not arrive until the evening before a local holiday, your dealer will employ his mechanic to work on that holiday specifically to fit your new tyres. Here in Volgograd we have been fortunate enough to slide a hastily written note beneath a door belonging to the right person. However, judging from those that we have met here, ….. we now believe that ‘Any Door’ in this huge city might well have provided the same level of hospitality.

Welcome to Volgograd’s new heroes, …. It’s People.

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Post 68: Volgograd 3



Geographically speaking, ‘Wits-end’ is surprisingly close to ‘Care-free’, but from a position on the ground that proximity is often difficult to see. Beyond observing the interaction between a drunken Russian gentleman and a ‘lady of the evening’ in the restaurant, the Hotel Tourist did nothing to lift our spirits. We were worried that tyre issues would be the end of Poor Circulations journey across Russia and even if not, then the cost of police cooperation would be prove far too much for our meagre budgets to handle. Both of us were mentally exhausted and Alan was suffering from long days on the bikes in the heat of the Russian day. Just when we thought that the low point had been reached, we woke on our first morning in Volgograd to find that the laundry we’d painstakingly washed the previous evening and then hung on the balcony to dry, ….. had blown away and was lost to us forever. This sad loss was then followed by the Hotel Tourist’s ‘complimentary breakfast’, … oh how we laughed. To be fair, .. we did see the funny side of the situation and if we do happen to see a local guy wearing one of Alan’s Nike Tent-Shirts, then imagining the final destination of our ‘Trolley’s’ will no doubt provide more comedy moments to brighten our day.

As promised on our hastily scribbled note of the previous day, we arrived on foot at the temporary bike showroom in the car park of the shopping centre at around 10am. A young man became busy on a mobile phone as we approached and remained so for several minutes. We inspected the collection of bikes with feigned interest and wondered if we had chosen to head for the wrong cross on our map when an aging Honda CB1000 arrived with an English speaking pilot. He explained that they’d received our note and sadly expected that such tyre sizes would not be available in Volgograd, .. and then he too was busy on his own phone.

A Landrover Discovery, incongruous to the area with every available extra including blacked-out security glass screeched to a halt. Slowly a man emerged, .. cropped hair and large frame, .. he announced himself as ‘Roman’ and shook our hands firmly before talking loudly to the others in fast Russian. Within seconds we’re racing through the streets of Volgograd towards destinations unknown with Roman, … a man that we had never before met.

At a motorcycle workshop close to the main railway station we’re invited to use the Internet at Roman’s desk. We have an email from Igor, a man that we’d briefly met in Rostov who is offering to introduce us to his friends in the next city up the Volga. Another email from Chris, another stranger to Poor Circulation. Chris has provided us with a telephone number to use if further police harassment takes place for which we are eternally grateful. But still no news on tyres from Blighty.

Another arrival, Slava, a stocky younger friend of Roman. He drives a black Mitsubishi, cropped hair and more blacked-out windows, …. he has more English than Roman, … they are best friends. Slava’s telephone rings, .. the ringtone is unusual in these parts, …. ‘Hey dickhead, … answer the bloody phone’. Slava laughs and jokes that they are ‘Volgograd Business Men’ and whispers that in Moscow they call Volgograd Businessmen ‘Gangsters’, … but we’re actually not sure which part of the statement is the joke. In this city Roman and Salva know everybody, everybody knows them, …… they live on their mobile telephones, …. we decide that our cross on the map had been in exactly the right place.

We search the Internet for tyres, we’re whisked at speed down side roads to an anonymous building that sells imported Taiwanese scooters and tyres, .. we find perfect tyres but none in sizes that we can make fit our own rims. Back at Roman’s garage,.. people come and go, .. doors are closed and voices are often hushed, …. business is taking place ‘Roman Style’.

It’s lunchtime, we’re taken to another anonymous building behind who’s doors we find a dark yet inviting restaurant, .. Restaurant by day and ‘Gentleman’s Club’ by night. We’re bought lunch by our new best friends. Then, once again back at the garage, we find suitable tyres are available in Moscow. Not a problem, …. Roman has family in Moscow. They will collect the tyres and pay for them, place them on transport to Volgograd. Roman will have them collected from the terminal in Volgograd and fit them to our Tigers on Wednesday. We must find a bank quickly,. Roman must transfer money to Moscow for the tyres, … once again we race off into Volgograd.

With financial arrangements completed we’re then taken for a tour of the city by Slava whilst Roman conducts a little more ‘business’. As evening falls we must eat. We’re taken to a traditional Cossack Restaurant, ‘Trolley Wally’ which is fantastic. Roman and Slava are known there, the staff and customers hush and watched as they enter, …. deference is shown, …. our table is dealt with immediately, … Roman and Slava have ‘Influence’. The food is endless, the vodka flows, a group of suited Russian ‘Businessmen’ rock on their benches as small square glasses clink together in toasts, … a group of traditional Cossack’s entertain us with songs and music. ‘Trolley Wally’, like the lunchtime restaurant is not on any tourist map, … Slava tells us that the Russian’s like to keep the best parts for themselves. Again,.. we’re not allowed to pay.

Slava then pays for a taxi for us to return to our hotel. His father is a police chief in Volgograd, we will have no more problems in Volgograd and we’re assured that the police to the east of Volgograd will be far easier of Poor Circulation wallets. It seems that both Slava and Roman had ‘family’ connections that are important in these parts. Slava and his brother are both Manchester United fans, … ‘Man-U, Man-U’, .. they enjoy watching the games in the local bars amongst the hundreds of Chelsea fans. Slava’s brother is a ‘Spetznez Officer’, …. we promise to send them a pair of MUFC scarves, … ‘Rooney, … Rooney, .. Rooney’. Tomorrow Slava will collect us from our hotel and take us to his boat, … we will sail on the Volga with Vodka and girls. He will give us a mobile phone where calls in Russia will be cheaper, … we can call him if we have further problems with police, … or other less friendly ‘Business Men’ on our travels. Wednesday will be a holiday in Volgograd, …. We’ll have a day of entertainment mapped out for us while Roman’s mechanic fits the new tyres to our bikes.

Twenty Four Hours in Volgograd, a hastily written note and a copy of The Riders Digest and Poor Circulation is back on track, ….. many many thanks to Roman and Slava, to CitySprint for turning many stones in trying to send tyres to us as quickly as possible and to The Riders Digest for opening doors that would otherwise remain closed. Also, a big thank you to all of those who have sent emails and wished us well or offered help in the past few day. Poor Circulation is back on track and heading east, ….. well,… after a few more days in Volgograd of course.

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Post 67: Volgograd 2


We’re told that the Tourist Hotel on the north side of the city is cheap. We pass through a complex of dull and dreary tenement blocks where the endless grey of the concrete is only broken by the washing hanging from every balcony. Dogs snap and bark at our ankles and the road turns from asphalt to stone and then to sand. At the banks of the River Volga we turn left, .. the light is fading and as far as Volgograd is concerned we feel that we’re on the wrong side of the tracks. Behind us is an abandoned factory of unknown purpose, we see the sign written large in crylic script, … ‘Hotel Tourist’, .. the sign fails to say ‘welcome’.

The Hotel Tourist is a relic of an age when authority liked to keep it’s visitors cosseted and cared for in an easily managed environment. On entering the foyer it felt as if we were the first visitors to this once almost grand establishment since the fall of the Berlin wall. It wasn’t quite the ‘shabby chic’ that we’d hoped for, … it was actually less chic and more ‘shabby’ than even our eclectic tastes were prepared for. However, with a few days stay in Volgograd necessary and at just £12 per night, …. The Hotel Tourist would be perfect.

Our moods had been temporarily lifted and our problems had been placed firmly into context by our visit to the memorials of 1943. However, with the prospect of being unable to ride any further east without tyres, and even if appropriate tyres were procured, the prospect of future police interference over the coming sixty days would result in a restless night for both of us.
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Post 66: Volgograd 1



Overnight rain had left the air clear and fresh as we covered the remaining 100km into Volgograd. It’s Sunday and the roads are relatively clear of traffic, … and more importantly for the Poor Circulation budget, …. also clear of police.

Our road is constantly shadowed by the route of the railway where the traffic is far heavier than that on the road. It seems that here in Russia, everything moves by train. We stop at a level crossing as the barriers fall crashing into two large trucks heading in opposing directions, ….. nobody panics, no voices are raised, …. this seems quite normal for these parts. Alan counts 60 wagons being pulled by two locomotives on the first train to cross our path. Two further trains cross the road before twenty-five minutes later the barriers raise and we’re back on our way.

Just short of Volgograd we pass an amazing statue of USSR Tanks racing into the sky along a metal roadway, … we stop to take pictures but move on swiftly when a police car pulls in to join us. A little further on and the statue to commemorate the hero’s of Volgograd comes into view. We’re still several kilometres outside of the city and this statue is already clearly visible which gives some clue to both its size and importance to the people of Volgograd.

Uncertain of our destination within Volgograd we simply ride with the flow of traffic. The lure of the looming statue is too much like a magnet and pulls us towards it. Standing tall and proud over the former city of Stalingrad, up close it is even more spectacular than when viewed from distance. Around the statue the public and soldiers mingle and walk with respect for those hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians on all sides who gave their lives in the siege of 1943. Sixty-five years on and the names of those souls are marked by enormous marble wall plaques and an eternally burning flame. Memories of police and worries about tyres are temporarily forgotten. Between us we have only limited knowledge about the siege of Stalingrad but it’s impossible not to feel the strength of emotions here.

In the car park we meet ‘Tamara’, an English Teacher of a certain age who begins every sentence with the word ‘So’. Tamara helps us to identify the potential areas of Volgograd where tyres might be available by marking small crosses on our tourist map of the city. Soon we’re the centre of a larger crowd, … opinions flow like the River Volga and more crosses are drawn on our map. We thank them all, select a single cross and head off in what we believe to be the right direction.

Alan’s fob will not deactivate his alarm, ….. he panics and I can only laugh, .. surely nothing else can go wrong. So far it’s been my orange Tiger with the alarm problems but eventually his bike ‘beeps’ and all is once again well in Alan Kelly’s Kingdom. Then, .. my alarm also fails to deactivate. Enter the security guard who through our new friend Tamara points towards the short wave radio mast towering high above the car park and informs us that we’ll need to wheel my bike approximately 2km away from the tower before the pulse from my key-fob will be strong enough to counter those from the radio mast, ….. great.

After freewheeling down the hill with my alarm shattering the peace of a Sunday afternoon in this place of great respect, we rolled to a halt at the traffic lights where the road begins to rise. I took out the towrope and Alan was about to tow my dead tiger down into the city when miracle of miracles, … the alarm deactivates. An on looking taxi driver suggests that we’re lucky, …. normally cars have to be towed almost into the heart of the city before they can be started. Thanks for the early warning.

We find the first cross on our sketch map of Volgograd. It turns out not to be a motorcycle dealership as promises but instead a small marquee in the car park of a shopping centre containing around nine or ten Japanese bikes. It’s closed, it opens at 10am the next day, ….. we’re tired, hot and shattered. I hastily write a note explaining who we are and that we need help in looking for tyres within Russia. I attach a ‘Poor Circulation’ badge and a copy of The Riders Digest magazine to the note and slide it into the marquee, …… we cross our fingers and head off in search of a bed for the night.

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Post 65: Rostov to Volgograd (Almost)


We’d calculated that Volgograd was almost 600km from Rostov and given the progress of yesterday, it would take us another four days to reach the historic city. We grabbed the complimentary breakfast and then borrowed an hour of Internet time from the hotel’s ‘Business Centre’ before checking out along with every free sample that we could muster.

Outside in the car park stood a pair of familiar looking scooters, .. Norik and his friends had come down to the hotel to guide us onto the correct road for Satchy and onwards to Volgograd. We followed them to the airport and then waved them farewell as we rode out onto the M4 heading north. Without the help of these great young guys we’d have been lost in a huge city, a few thousand roubles out of pocket and no doubt still winging about Russian authority. To Norik, John, Shasha and Timo, … many thanks guys.

It’s hot and dry, the roads are dusty and uneven and the air is filled with small black flies that sting like nettles on contact with the skin. We’ve each had several fly into our tee shirts while riding, … not overly pleasant. We’re both suffering from exhaustion and every mile on these dull and congested roads hurts like hell, …but still we made good progress. We passed several roadblocks today and have remained unmolested with our wallets and sanity still in tact. By close of business on Saturday 7th June, we’re within 50km of Volgograd and only one day behind schedule.

Tomorrow we’ll head into Volgograd and hopefully find some local bikers who can point us in the direction of new tyres. We’re both down to the last microns of rubber and our front tyres are about to start showing their canvas knickers to any interested parties, …. which sadly might include the next policeman, .. so they’ve got to be changed.

In Sochi our new friend, the main Honda Agent for the area, had informed us that no tyres existed anywhere in Russia that would fit the Tigers. CitySprint in London are trying to fly two full sets out to us in Volgograd but are encountering difficulties with ‘Customs Procedures’. If what the Honda Agent has told us is true, then this new challenge has basically thrown a rather large and oily spanner into the works of Poor Circulation. Apparently the only way to get tyres to us is to ship them to a named individual (Russian Citizen), who will then have to travel in person to Moscow, pay the import duty and collect the tyres, … not ideal.

We need two sets of tyres sized:110/80/19 and 150/70/17. If anybody reading this has any contacts within Michelin, Metzeler, or even Russia etc., …. then any help would be greatly appreciated. We’re happy to throw any brand of rubber onto the bikes so long as it will get us through to Vladivostok in the East. If we can’t get tyres inside Russia, then because of our visa’s and the physical size of the country we’re pretty much finished. However,.. ‘Plan B’ is to ride as far east as the tyres will allow and then to throw the bikes onto the Trans Siberian Railway and onto Vladivostok. ‘Plan C’ is to run the tyres to canvas and then buy a van, throw the bikes in the back, drive to Vladivostok where we’ll sell the van and get out to Japan or Alaska.

Today has kind of renewed our faith in the Russian establishment and we’ve decided to put our previous ‘Police Interfaces’ down to bad luck and hope that for the next 12,000 miles, … we’ll remain happy and intimidation free. To a certain extent the lightening of our wallets has been aided simply by our naivety and the fact that from glancing at our passports it’s clear for all to see that we are but virgins in Russia and yet to learn the ways of this world. We’ll get over it, find a solution and come what may, …. we’re determined to make this trip across Russia into a memorable experience for all of the right reasons.

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Post 64: Apseronsk to Rostov


It’s been only our second full days riding in Russia and once again the day has been hijacked by corrupt police officers. We left Apseronsk at around 8am and arrived in the city of Rostov at around 9pm. We’ve covered around 150 miles in that time, encountered seven full checkpoints and been accused of drink driving, riding the wrong way along a dual carriageway, turning right against a road sign, crossing another non-existent white line and speeding, .. all of which were totally false accusations. Thankfully a little more experience and a little more ‘Russian’ has allowed us to escape all but one of today’s ‘Bribes’ but this intimidation and corruption is beginning to ruin our views of this great country.

Alan’s still feeling under the weather and hasn’t fully recovered from the bug that struck him about a week ago. He’s feeling down and I think that at one point today he was ready to turn back and head for home. For me, I understand that these problems are only temporary. When we have as much experience at avoiding the ‘Bribe’ as the police have at issuing them, .. then everything on Poor Circulation will once again be rosy. Most travel writing is retrospective, …. The book is written long after the event has taken place and the writer can place the ‘Problems’ into context with all that has happened. Writing on a daily basis it’s difficult to divorce the ‘Good’ from the ‘Bad’, …. So please bear with me and in the coming weeks it will all be brighter news. After all, the beautiful nurses of Sappaya Hospital in Thailand, and Nurse Wipa Klampeng in particular, have once more visited the Temples and sought ‘Good Merit’ for Poor Circulation, …… and for that we are thankful.

On a brighter note, when we entered the city of Rostov we met a group of young guys on scooters. They were returning from swimming at the lake, saw us travelling towards the city and offered to guide us to wherever we needed to go. They first took us to an ATM to replenish our Roubles and then onwards to a hotel. They wanted to show us their city but unfortunately we were simply too shattered to go any further, …. It was 9pm, we’d been riding since 8am and we’d covered less than 150 miles.

We talked together outside of the hotel, posed for photographs and distributed yet more Poor Circulation badges. Their English was excellent and Norik helped us to check into the hotel and secure a ‘Poor Circulation’ tariff for the room, .. fantastic. All of the guys spoke good English but we’re informed that had John not decided to ‘go walking with girls’ in grade 12 and stayed at home to study, …… his English would now be almost perfect. Thanks guys.

(John Glastyan, John Mutachovski, Shasha Chvan, Tima Kechedziev)
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Post 63: Friendly Bikers

With the exception of scooters, here in Russia we’ve found very few bikers on the roads. After enlisting the help of the Sochi main Honda dealer to source replacement tyres we now understand why there are so few. Large capacity motorbikes in Russia are expensive, …. Very expensive.

As in all countries, bikers will help other bikers. After following the directions of the Russian family to the suitable camping ground, … and getting hopelessly lost, we came across a Honda CBR 1000 sitting outside of a small café in Apseronsk and sought there help. Jirair Bagdasarjan and his friends were more than happy to help and we followed the Fireblade to a small motel on the edge of town. It wasn’t the camp ground we’d expected but after such a day, … it was more then deserved.

We were shown upstairs to a ‘Private Apartment’ complete with sauna, hot tub, full sized snooker table and the most amazing power-shower with secure parking thrown in and apart from the ‘Bung’ mentioned below, ….. we’re still running to budget (If not to schedule).

Tyres remain an issue and it may be necessary to spend an extra couple of days in Volgograd where we hope to have two sets of UK Michelins sent to us and have them fitted locally. Unfortunately the sizes we require are just not available here in Russia, … at any price. Actually getting to Volgograd is going to take a couple of days longer than we anticipated and we’ll probably wont arrive there until Sunday or Monday, … possibly Tuesday but definitely no later than Friday.
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Post 62: The Good, The Bad and The Bung

Our newly adopted Iranian family, all twenty of them, had coincidentally been staying in the same hotel and thus our ‘goodbyes’ were long and filled with more than a hint of sadness. We promised that we’d at least try to visit them in Iran at some future date, … visas permitting.

This was really our first day of riding in Russia and it’s really no different to riding anywhere else on this trip, … be confident, be courteous and smile. Out of Sochi we somehow managed to choose the right road and once free of the early morning commuter traffic we were soon slugging along behind diesel spilling trucks and Racing Lada’s winding upwards along the Black Sea coast, ‘Busy’ is the only word to describe it. We stopped for our first Russian fuel and were introduced to a totally new system. Here you need to estimate the quantity of petrol required, pay for it in advance and then hope that you’ve estimated correctly, .. all in Russian of course. The best thing about filling the tank here in Russia is the price, … £0.45 per litre, …. at last we have the promised cheap petrol that we’d expected since entering France.

At the town of Tuapse, we turned inland and followed the road Northeast towards Majkop on the ‘P254’. The road and scenery immediately changed to mountains, sweeping left and right hand bends and the asphalt became smooth and forgiving, … we began to relax and enjoy the journey. Then, 18 miles along this road and riding well below the speed limit it all changed as we were waved to the opposite side of the road by two Police Officers waving black and white batons. We pulled into the parking area, switched off the engines, dismounted and reached for our passports documents. We’d already been waved through two previous checkpoints earlier in the day but this time I was summoned to the police car while the second subordinate officer inspected the bikes with Alan.

Inside the police car I was told that we’d both committed the offence of ‘Crossing The Single White Line’ and that our Driving Licences would be confiscated unless we paid a fine of 5,000 Roubles ($200). As I speak no Russian and the burley Officer spoke no English, communication was achieved with the aid of A4 illustrations and many exaggerated hand gestures. After several minutes and countless doodles, I managed to convince the Officer that there was in fact, No White Line on the road. There followed a long and painful silence, the original A4 drawings were crumpled and thrown on to the back seat of the car and new illustrations were hurriedly drawn. The new offence was ‘Failing to Stop’ which carried the same fine of 5,000 Roubles. I eventually managed to convince the Officer that had I indeed ‘Failed to Stop’, … I wouldn’t currently be confined within his Police Car having this now heated conversation whilst he patted his open palm with 40cm of menacing hard wood.

There then followed a conversation with one of his English speaking ‘colleagues’ on the telephone. He basically laughed and suggested that in Russia the ways of the law worked slightly differently to those in England, ….. basically ‘Pay UP’ or ‘Stick Around’ as their guest for several uncomfortable days. After the call, the arresting officer played with his phone and then handed it to me, it showed two phrases written in Russian and then again in English below. I was amazed when I read the English translations: ‘Honey Pot’ and ‘Bribe’.

At this point I snapped, grabbed my documents from the dashboard and with help from our phrase book told him that we were journalists riding around the world and raising money for charity, … if he wanted money from us then we’d go down to the Police Station and deal with it there. After another minute or so of painful silence, I was again passed the telephone and I explained all of this to his English-speaking colleague who then relayed it back to the officer in Russian. After the call had ended the atmosphere in the car changed from ‘Official’ to ‘Hostile’ but the fine was reduced from 5,000 to 3,000 Roubles. An English/Russian row then erupted and I’m certain that many of the words used would not have appeared in any Berlitz Guide, …. it was to say the least a little heated. However, with the threat of several days in a Russian cell before us, I eventually gave in and got the fine reduced to 2,000 Roubles (or $100), refused to shake his hand, grabbed the remainder of our documents and got out of the area as quickly as possible.

On the Ferry from Trabzon to Sochi, Giya (George), the Georgian chess champion had donated $100 to be divided equally between our respective charities. That $100 donated by a total stranger, with no more money than you or I, now sits in the pocket of a corrupt Police Officer from Tuapse in Russia. It is such a shame that our view of Russia and the kindness and vibrancy of its’ people has now been somewhat tarnished by the actions of one corrupt police officer. If this post lands me in deep trouble whilst still travelling through Russia, ….. then so be it. The corrupt Officer fully understood that the money taken by him had been donated to a charity supporting terminally ill people yet still he smiled, wielded his baton and slipped the money into his greasy little pocket. We hope that this ‘Incident’ is a one-off occurrence but judging from various other travel blogs, ….. it may well be just the start.

Thankfully two things have happened since then that have restored my faith in people in general and Russian’s in particular. Firstly, my brother Alan in Boonville California has already donated the $100 on Giya’s behalf to our charities and secondly, we have since met more amazing Russian people who have bent over backwards to help us on our way. They include the family above who sent us in the direction of a suitable campsite after proudly posing for photographs with their new baby.

Perhaps the Captain of the Princess Victoria was right: ‘Russian Girls I Love, … Russian Women I Love, …. Etc’.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 61: Sochi Russia


Before we’d left the bonded area of the port yesterday the Captain of the Princess Victoria, having seen us still sitting on the dock with our bikes, had come to me and with his huge beaming face alight with life had clasped his arms around me and said ‘Geoff, .. Russian Vodka I love, … Russian Girls I Love, …. Russian Women I Love, … but Russian laws are shit, ….. welcome to Russia Comrade’.

When arriving in Russia your visa must be registered with the authorities within 24 hours, but exactly why and with which authorities we have absolutely no idea. Why this couldn’t have happened while we twiddled our thumbs on the docks waiting for the bikes to be unloaded is anybodies guess, …. but rules are rules.

The simplest way to register the visa is to stay in a hotel for two nights and they will register it for you. We’re currently residing at Sochi’s ‘Hotel Moscow’, a relic of a bygone age that has remained unaffected by the dramatic changes happening all around. Nothing quite fits or works, everything is ‘uniform’, small is the only size and you honestly do get the feeling that you’re constantly being watched. In a weird and unexplainable way this place is totally fantastic and a big thank you to Giya who is paying for it.

As a city, Sochi is really not quite as expected. No matter how many times you see this city on news reels (Recently visited by George Bush and home to the 2014 Winter Olympics) you kind of still expect to see it in black and white, …. everything a pale shade of grey. Thankfully it’s anything but that. It’s a seaside resort, former home to Stalin’s summer dacha and ‘Riviera’ for Russia’s rich and stylish, …. it is quite simply stunning. The wide boulevards are filled to capacity with every kind of vehicle, the nightlife and restaurants are vibrant and with the exception of motorcycle tyres, ….. everything is available. In other developing cities I’ve had the feeling that the rapid change would spoil the heart and soul of the place, ….. but with Sochi I get the feeling that these changes have injected a degree of vibrancy and optimism that I have seldom seen in the past, …. Anywhere.

Sochi has an elegance that no English resort town could ever hope to equal. The designer goods on the markets may be of dubious origin, but the beauty of the girls in Sochi is totally genuine, not to mention abundant. It would have been interesting to have visited this city twenty years ago and now to be able to compare the ‘Old’ and ‘New’ Russia, ….. but we’ll simply settle for the ‘New’ and enjoy our last day here before moving on towards Volgograd.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 60: Into Russia


The ferry across the Black Sea from Trabzon to Sochi took almost twelve hours and we arrived at the mouth of Sochi harbour just as dawn broke on the 3rd of June, two days behind schedule. Two pilot boats eventually guided the Princess Victoria to the dock and we disembarked along with the other passengers. Passport control was a breeze and within minutes we were in Russia, …. But unfortunately the Tigers were not.

We had to buy insurance for fifteen days (don’t ask) and then wait, ….. and then wait some more. It was 8am, we were hungry and tired and totally in the dark as to what was happening with our bikes. Then at around 11am a customs officer inspected both bikes for contraband by checking that the hinges on both of our top boxes worked, …. Which they did.. He allowed us to ride the bikes off the ferry and onto the dock … and then he vanished.

Two hours later another officer arrived, hissed and swore, pocketed our incorrectly completed customs forms and then also vanished. Left alone with my gander rising and against my better judgement, I approached another officer who helpfully enlisted the support of our earlier insurance agent who completed new forms, presented them to a third officer, ….. and then went back to waiting.

Eventually we left the port at around 2pm almost nine hours after we had entered. Well,…. At least we tried to leave the port. Unfortunately two cars had parked in front of the port gates and they couldn’t be opened, …. Welcome to Russia.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 59: Leaving Turkey


It had taken us much longer than anticipated to reach the port city of Trabzon in Turkey, though with hindsight probably no longer than it would take us to fulfil the procedures involved in leaving the country itself.

‘Police check, 10am, .. maybe 11am’, the ticket agent seemed unsure of the precise time but this seemed to matter little, ‘then Customs, …. Maybe 3pm’.
I asked why payment for the ticket had to be in US$ and not Turkish YTL and received no reply. I knew that we were probably being stung for money that we could afford to part with but we were already a couple of days behind schedule and this ‘Agent’ was our only hope of early exit to Russia. I asked for an official receipt in the hope that this would reduce the price but was met with the same smiling silence. It seems that when you have a monopoly on the only means of exit from a port, you charge whatever you feel your market can bear and manipulate your own currency conversion rates, …. But sadly not in Poor Circulations favour.

We waited, ….. and then waited some more. Our passports were taken to a man with a striking resemblance to Patrick Stewart who was having his shoes shined in the street outside. A heated debate took place before a rubber stamp was produced and the two passports duly stamped, … Exit Turkey, …... and then we waited some more.

Another fixer arrived, a colleague of the agent, beckoning us to follow him to destination unknown, but he was insistent and in a great hurry. The ‘Agent’ had suddenly decided that he spoke neither English nor Arabic and so we followed his lackey into the bonded area of the port. We were past from office to office and finally allowed to take both bikes and ourselves onto the dock for out rendezvous with the ‘Princess Victoria’. This ship was once an Algerian registered vessel but was now sailing under the flag of Cambodia, ….. and I’m sure this wasn’t for additional safety reasons, ….. P&O this ferry was not.

We waited some more, …. Crate after crate of oranges and tomatoes were loaded onto the ancient vessel until just enough space remained to ride the two Tigers on and to close the sea door behind us. There were no other vehicles on this car ferry, … what did others know that we didn’t?

After nine hours of pointless waiting and bureaucracy, on board the ferry we first met a group of about twenty Iranian tourists who took to us immediately and adopted us into their extended family. The women were fascinated by Alan’s amazing height and their men folk by the fact that an infidel could speak Arabic, ….. the greetings and questions were endless but the feeling of warmth and friendship was unmistakeable.

We then met Giya Balkvadze who is the five times national chess champion of Georgia, master of twenty languages and currently travelling back to Moscow where he lives with his family. Giya was fascinated by Poor Circulation and the causes that we were raising money for. Before leaving he presented us with $100 for the two charities and enough money to pay for our first two nights accommodation in Russia, …. Fantastic.

On a daily basis we are still amazed by the random generosity of total strangers and the fact that people everywhere have amazing attitudes towards the people of other nations. If only the politicians could adopt such attitudes then perhaps countries such as Iran might also have been on the Poor Circulation menu.

www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas