I have done, and will continue to criticise the actions and attitudes of those I encounter as I travel. But let's not condemn any particular group, bear in mind the comments I make are of my own experiences, they highlight that which I observe. Look to your neighbours and ask yourself, are they any different? Is the meathead getting drunk on a Friday night and beating hell out of an innocent passerby any more caring than the Russian who caves a dogs skull in. Our home culture isn't necessarily any better than those through which I travel, in fact it is often so much harsher than the kindness and care I encounter as I pass haplessly through stranger's lives. As a traveller I so often rely on the goodwill of people who I've never met and will probably never meet again. I meet so many genuine people, people who go out of their way to offer help, who's generosity and friendship can make or break our interaction. So question my words, at least see the broader picture; there's ugliness all over the world, there's also a lot of beauty! (Photo: Orthodox Church - Angarsk, Russia)Russian drivers are truly awful, not necessarily bad, but dangerous. In fact I'd say their level of competence is quite high.
Statistically there are more road deaths here than anywhere else, in my mind it's due solely to the speeds at which they tend to drive and their reluctance to show more patience on the road. Don't get me wrong, they seldom rant and rave at each other, but many are reluctant to wait behind other vehicles, they make high speed overtakes, in very risky situations. When an accident happens, it's a bad one! But if I can see a gap and go for an overtake, I don't get anger and fury from other road users; not as I often experience in the UK. I do see too many who are reluctant to be overtaken, who will pull out and follow someone else, nose to tail, past a whole line of traffic at speeds of 100mph or more. The common fault here is overtaking dangerously, I think this is the main cause of accidents, which is why the police concentrate of such offenders. You really do need your whits about you, concentration must be at a maximum at all times, and it proves as tiring as ever. (Photo: Golden conifers - Irkutsk road, Russia)I've not been inclined to bother tackling the Russian language, the phrasebook I bought has stayed in my pocket for much of the time. It's the cyrillic alphabet which throws me. However much I'd love to ignore it completely I just can't, all the road signs are in Cyrillic, so I've had to get the gist of pronunciations.
The town names sound the same in both alphabets, but they bear no resemblance in the written word. So I am slowly progressing, every time I see a name I pronounce it to myself, trying to reinforce the use of cyrillic symbols. By and large I manage, but I do need to ensure I have looked up each destination before setting out. Likewise the menus are a mystery to my untrained eye, it's all hit and miss. Borsht is easy and appetising, I thought Stroganoff was too. Ordering a dish proved me wrong, or maybe it was purely the the culinary expertise of the establishment. I got a plate of it and it was like a plate of gristle in a snot sauce, I couldn't even stomach dipping my bread in it to stave of severe hunger. And after weeks here I finally discovered that my phrasebook does have a section listing foodstuffs, it just isn't in the main food section. Albeit a touch too late, it has proved useful in the last few days. (Photo: Beautiful windy hill country - Lake Baykal, Russia)Having been warned in Chernoyask that the roads were non-existant past Kansk I'd expected the worst, but it wasn't to be so. In my eyes they only got better!
After the first joyous excursion onto rough roads coming out of Kansk I settled down more. That one had got me excited, it had an enormous grin factor and I couldn't help myself, it had to be ridden quite hard. Since then my approach has been more staid, keeping to a reasonable pace and not being enticed to rip her open. More sections have been unsurfaced, and there have been a fair few that are actually under construction, making for many kilometers of riding off tarmac. Most of them were simply various types of loose aggregate, ranging from a thin layer of dust, through to the large uneven stones used as substrate when constructing new roads. The bigger stones felt insecure to ride over, especially where they lay quite thick. The back and front ends of the bike didn’t feel in reliable contact with anything, almost as if they were rolling off the surface.I it was disconcerting at first but got quickly easier. Not that they were all broken and potholed, far from it, instead I was treated to a road that can only be described as curvaceous in the extreme. The further behind I left the steppes the windier the road became, no longer vast unrelenting plains, the forests closed in and what had started as a slightly windier road just got better.
In fact I adapted rapidly to whatever was thrown at me, I didn’t like being the first over newly scraped earth, not when the front end was slewing around, but it just needed more throttle. The longest sections were rough and totally unmaintained; I don’t think they’ve ever received any care since being carved out of landscape. Deep pockets of sand lay at the bottom of chasms, and filled rutted tracks, that inevitably lay right in my path of travel. I’m glad to say I didn’t flinch and didn’t back off, just gave it a bit more throttle and powered through. Generally I sat relaxed and made good progress, at times, when it got very rough, I’d stand on the pegs and let the bike and my knees absorb the bucking and bouncing. We actually took off from one huge dip, it took me by surprise, I lost my footing and landed on my arse into the seat again. My only slight complaint was still the clouds of dust thrown up by all the other vehicles. I overtook all and sundry as quick as I could, most the time without knowing what approached through the cloud of dust, or whether is was completely clear to be passing. I would be able to discern that nothing was coming once level with the back end of the other vehicle though, so I wasn’t being totally reckless. (Photos: 1] Mountain border - Looking towards Mongolia from Russia; 2] Serene river setting - Lake Baykal, Russia)My initial reaction to the ethnic mix in Ulan Ude was to assess it as distinctly Mongol in nature, there are so many of Asiatic features, but there is a subtle difference.
Many people have the narrower features of the Han Chinese, rather than quite round flat features I'd associate with the Mongols. Skin coloration tends to be fairer too, but that can often be purely a modern cultural thing. In many countries it's more desirable to nurture a pale complexion. It's a status thing, common field workers, peasants in other words, are exposed to the rays of the sun. Therefore pale skin denotes you as leading a better lifestyle than that of a lowly peasant. An interesting factor here is that Asiatics seem to outnumber white Russians! As couples they mix freely; though on the limited contact I've had it appears that white Russian females consort with Asiatic males more so than Asiatic females mix with white Russian men. In the service industry, hotels, shops and restaurants, the staff are exclusively Asian. For the first time in Russia I've seen down and outs scavenging litter bins and begging on the street, they've all been white Russian men. Ulan Ude is more cosmopolitan than the other cities I've seen here. It appears cleaner in the centre than others too, with less traffic congestion and more amenable driving. I've not tried finding my way back out and onto the correct route yet, so I could easily be proved wrong there. (Photo: Mongol hoards become farmers - Nr Ulan Ude, Russia)
Physically it's been quite a punishing time since leaving Novosibirsk. I've covered 1,500 miles, making it a tad short of 6,000 miles since leaving home. Calculations are amiss, I had it as 4,500 from home to Ulan Bataar, that's out by 30%. There again it's not easy getting accurate distances off a map with a scale of 1:2,000,000. I can't expect to feel comfortable doing such distances, not in the time taken, that's 2,000 miles per week. So it's no surprise to find my forearm aches more than normal, or that the hamstrings in my left leg are more susceptible to cramping up on me. They're having a tough old time and handling the abuse admirably, who'd have thought only eighteen months ago that I would be stupid enough to put my limbs through this type of strain. I've still not resorted to using pain-killers, so it can't be that bad. Anyway, the landscape I'm in now is just my cup of tea, the type to appreciate, not ride through like a bat out of hell. I know how bad I can be for setting a blistering pace, it's time to relax and enjoy the areas I pass through. (Photo: Reproduction of Mongol battle dress - Baykal Plaza, Ulan Ude, Russia)
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