Ever eastwards, ever better!

What a dichotomous world we live in, hopefully it balances itself out. Even better if it works in our favour, though it can’t work in everyone’s favour. Finally leaving Novosibirsk I found myself in the left hand lane of two at a set of lights. I was the first vehicle in that lane, going straight ahead, when another car came behind me wanting to turn left, the left filter light was on green, the one forward wasn’t. As soon as he drew up behind his hand was pumping the horn, to which I shrugged my shoulders and turned round to say, “hey, give me a break, I don’t know my way around here”. He didn’t even give me a chance; hanging out the window he was cussing me really loudly. I guess if that’s the way he wanted to communicate who was I to deny him his wishes, so I let rip too. I haven’t a clue what he was shouting, but I’d hazard a guess he understood most of the foul language I threw at him. And as my light went green, I slipped the clutch with a final, “up yours” sign off I went. Only momentarily did it bug me, in fact I quite enjoyed letting off a bit of steam. If that was the type of cultural exchange he wanted, fine, it actually made me smile. I wonder if he found it humorous. (Photo: I spy a bend - East of Kemerovo, Russia)

To create a balance to the day, another exchange couldn’t have been more different. I’d stopped to rehydrate and clean my visor, and no sooner had I got off the bike when a guy approached me, I hadn’t even got my helmet off. What a great guy, loud and enthusiastic he asked if I was English, and got even more animated at the positive response. He didn’t spout a stream of unintelligible Russian, just shook my hand and introduced himself, to which I returned the compliment. Using few words he ascertained where I was going, expressing amazement and full approval with a firm emphatic handshake. He had a knack of making his requests understood, next he asked my age, and was overjoyed that there was only three years age difference, he was my elder. So overjoyed he embraced me in a full on body hug, “oh Leslie, Leslie!” His enthusiasm was contagious, what a lovely character, it was true back slapping fondness worthy of the closest of long lost friends. I was touched, truly awed by this larger than life character who’d jumped into my world. And that was that really, with a blast on his horn, a flamboyant wave and a last, “Leeeesliiiie,” he was gone. Now that put a big happy smile on my face, and a definite spring in my step. (Photo: Tracked down by trees- East of Kemerovo, Russia)

My route has followed the M53, and don’t even think it; no, it is not a motorway! From Novosibirsk it took me to Kemerovo, Krasnoyarsk, then Kansk, and finally over to Irkutsk. By some miracle it has presented the occasional stretches of beautiful flat tarmac, but they have been in a very small minority. Generally it’s broken and patched tarmac, rising and falling with the lay of the land. With the exception of my entry into the Urals it’s remained pretty much straight, in a landscape so devoid of irregular features there was no reason to build it anything but straight. With the extremes of weather during each year it’s also little wonder the road surface is in such a mess. The substratum is frozen more half the year, the expansion of water into ice must create havoc with the road foundations. For the rest of the year the upper surface is scorched mercilessly by a baking hot sun, turning the tarmac into molasses, which squelches into ridged runnels whenever a truck brakes heavily. (Photo: Laying in ambush- East of Kemerovo, Russia)

Getting through Kemerovo was a real bitch, but everyone made it a better experience than most nightmare navigations through Russian cities. People drew up alongside me to smile and wave, so many people wanted to get my attention and show their approval. I stopped often to check my directions, and people’s response was so dynamic, not only giving me the correct directions but with enthusiasm, wishing me well and shaking my hand in the bargain. Not a single person was reticent about giving what aid or recognition they could, they acted as though honoured to help, and I felt honoured by their actions. I was flagged down onto the hard shoulder to receive well wishes from strangers, waved at by sexy women in gas stations. So many drivers honked their horns and gave me the thumbs up. I didn’t eat from 8am till 5pm and didn’t need to, I got my sustenance from the fantastic welcome extended by everyone en route, especially the citizens of Kemerovo. A truly brilliant day! (Photo: Trusty Russian military machinery - Just before Krasnoyarsk, Russia)

After Kemerovo the roads, riding and landscape were the best since entering Russia, woodland outstripped the grassland, making for a welcome break from the Steppes. But most delightful, was the road itself, it got bendy! Ok, it wasn’t knee-scraping stuff, but the bends were fairly constant and they made me work the bike. Wide open bends on new, flat tarmac, it was sheer joy; apart from the sudden lumps of unexplained tarmac sticking out of the otherwise gorgeous surface. And it was like that for over 60 miles, I’d got so used to straight line riding I’d forgotten how to lean, but not for long! Is it any wonder I didn’t stop to eat, though I kept promising myself I would, but I was much too busy munching on the miles. Eventually I had to stop or I would have carried on all night, which I actually considered. The sudden appearance of a rather shabby looking motel changed my mind. It looked quite dubious, but the people were lovely, once stopping I didn’t question whether to stay or not. From there it was only about another 900 miles to Irkutsk and Lake Baikal, within a couple of days striking distance. (Photo: Leaving the Steppes - East of Krasnoyarsk, Russia)

On the way into Krasnoyarsk road works slowed everything right down, I hated the melee of cars and trucks, nose to tail pushing and trying to leapfrog round each other.It was a pain, my best option would have been to power through it, but with one truck directly in front and another trying to insert himself up my anal crevice there was no chance. I couldn’t see what hazards were approaching, where the best route would appear, or which obstacles were looming. It was painfully slow 1st gear work, it might have been fun if the other vehicles hadn’t spoilt it. I did whip past a couple of cars and trucks when the oncoming traffic thinned out. The real fun began taking the road out of Kransk, a sign declared road works for 38km, at least I though it had and didn’t relish more of the free for all. It was nothing like before though! When I first took the turnoff I couldn’t believe it was the right road. It was as rough, loose and awful as anything I rode in the Americas (except the boulder field I lost the KLR on), and I loved it.Overtaking a couple of trucks I slowed down as I drew level to the driver’s window, shouting Irkutsk, and nodding forward. His face said it all, “yes, I’m afraid so”. I smiled a big beamer, stood on the pegs and opened up the throttle. There wasn’t any flat route through, and there was no point trying to delicately pick the least chaotic path, the BMW is meant to be built for such stuff so I ploughed straight through it all. I loved it, and the bike didn’t seem to mind. It soaked up the lumps, skimmed over the craters (to an extent) and went wherever I pointed it without as much as a squiggle. Huge grin factor, it made my day, the only disappointment was that it was too short. It wasn’t 38km, it was only 3.8km, so I felt a touch cheated. I shouldn’t have, there was plenty more along the way. Not as bad, but regular stretches of a couple of km or so of road works. The big stones are a bit of a hassle, but no real problem, I just need to relax the death grip I have on the handlebars. I fair flew past all the trucks, blasting my horn to let them know I was there, and to get them out my way. The dust they kicked up was a nightmare, obscuring all visibility completely at one stage. As I was overtaking one dickhead pulled out on me, the dust was so thick I could see nothing, no track, no truck, not even my handlebars. Now that was a bit scary, he’d hit a patch of very deep dust that threw up an impenetrable cloud, I had to slow down sharpish or I’d have been up his arse. Once he got out my way things improved rapidly I didn’t delay in the slightest, just hit the gas and flew past him, and all the others, cars and trucks alike. Again the big stones felt a bit wobblier, but it only takes a bit more confidence, they’ll be fine.m (Photos: Alpine scenery - East of Kansk, Russia)

So things have been progressing in a positive way, I’ve had the first days that I’ve genuinely enthused about. Feeling pleased to be where I am, doing what I’m doing, it's a good place to be. I’m knackered at the end of every day, but that’s good as well, isn’t it?