In to Siberia now.
We have crossed the Urals and left the European continent. We had expected to see some sort of sign marking the divide, but failed to do so. According to the guides there are many, just not obvious ones.
The Urals were very pleasant. A bit like Wales, green, wet and full of people I can't understand. They were also home to our first road/bridge wash out of the trip.
Fortunately we were waylaid by a local before we had gone too far, he then helped us plot the 150km detour we needed to do. Across sand covered roads through the forest, with signs warning us not to stop due to "high bear density", and holes big enough to swallow the bikes. All in the rain. (Note I don't take pictures in the rain even in the absence of bears).
After a week of riding it was time for a little break. We opted for a couple of days in Yekaterinburg hosted by the Black Knives bike club.
I would like to say I'd managed a week in Russia without vodka. But I failed at the first hurdle, it would have been rude not to.
One of the club, Dmitry gave up his time to show us around the city, of great interest to us was the War Weapons Museum. Row upon row of tanks, jeeps, planes, rocket launchers, armoured trains, ships and a submarine.
Yes, a submarine. Yekaterinburg is thousands of miles from any ocean and they have dragged one there.
The interestingly bendy roads of the Urals eventually gave way to long flat straight ones in Siberia, which we would be crossing for the next 3500 kilometres.
The tedium is broken at odd times by animals wandering in the road. Cows, dogs and a wolf.
While no bears have wandered across , so far, we have encountered two in a roadside motel. On show for passing motorists. Caged, they don't look happy.
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