The Final Frontier and the Voyage Home

Our gentle bimble back to Europe took us across Ukraine, into southern Poland and the Tatra Mountains.

At the border with Russia the Ukrainian post was entirely staffed by the military, weapons were in full view and gun emplacements were dotted around. By contrast the Russian side was fairly relaxed, no major search, and no weapons evident. Tensions are still high between the two states, but possibly the Ukrainians are more tense. While the panniers were being searched we heard a loud gun shot type noise. We jumped and looked around, but the soldiers just grinned and carried on.

Some (most) of the roads in Ukraine can be rough with large pot holes, but from past experience I knew by keeping to the major "M" roads they would be fine. As with all border crossings there is a change in landscape, immediately more trees appeared lining the roads. It also started to rain, the sort of rain we normally associate with being near a coast, that feeling of a being dipped in sea mist. This may be caused by the 110km long lake to the north of Kiev. Another long hot spell had ended for us. Now it was warm and wet.

By keeping to the major roads we sampled their motels, beer and food. Our diet improved with beef steak, stuffed chicken breast and succulent kebabs. We started to fatten up again, after our diet of camca (Russian meat or cheese filled bread pasties), goulash, and plov (Russian pilaf). Washed down with Georgian (to make up for not going there) sparkling wine.

The Ukrainian motels had some quirky designs, a lot were made to look like castles.

The Ukrainian/Polish border crossings are awash with vodka and cigarette smugglers. There were reports of 4 to 10 hour queues just to get to the border gates. We chose to employ the motorcyclists prerogative: ignore the queue and ride to the front. No one objected as we rode past the 3 kilometres of vans and buses; not even the policeman at the front holding everyone up. When we arrived at the border with only 3 vehicles in front of us, the guard started to collect slips of paper from the ones in front. We presumed this was a check that you had not jumped the queue. One car was pulled out and sent back. The guard then just asked us for our passports and waved us through. Motorbikes rock !

Once in Poland we detoured from a straight path home, unpacked the tent for the first time since Mongolia, and set up camp for a few days near the town of Zakopane (think Windermere in the UK Lake District for popularity). Then into Slovakia to do a full circuit of the beautiful Tatra mountains, the highest range in the Carpathians.

We entered Germany at Bavaria, from the Czech Republic, and being mapless we asked Google to plot is a non-motorway route to Heidelberg. It must have known we were on motorbikes as it took us on a fantastic journey through small "chocolate box" villages, sweeping bends, green hills and valleys. 

All the time on perfect asphalt. Even where it was repaired it was smoother than some countries freshly laid roads.

On this section the bikes were running well on to the smooth surfaces. Nothing was dropping off or breaking. Until we were  interrupted in Slovakia when my radiator sprang another leak. The addition of fresh sealant got us moving again. Until Belgium, and then France as the process of add more sealant and coolant was repeated.

Our decision to cut the trip short was looking better each day. I knew that we could attempt to repair the radiator, but that would require removing it and possibly making it worse if that failed. We preferred to keep performing the sealant and fingers crossed routine.

On top of that I was still keeping an eye on oil usage for my leaking bike: go slow no problems, take the revs over 4500 and use loads. Also Jean's chain was now kinked with more bends than Brands Hatch. 

Definitely time to head home, reassess, fix and head to the Caucasus mountains another time.

On this trip we have made more repairs in more countries than ever before. It would be shorter to list countries that no repairs have been carried out in. (Kyrgyzstan, Czech Republic and Ukraine).

The conditions were far harsher on the bikes than we expected, they have robust engines but a lot of the ancillaries are weak, possibly due to Italian "prettiness". Especially the front fairings which bounced around separating from the fixing arms on many occasions. And then there were the radiator issues. 

But the most important thing is that we have completed what we set out to do, returned with both of us in one piece, and managed it once more without any punctures. And confirmed that Outer Mongolia is indeed a very very long way away!

Route change

The last blog title was possibly a touch prophetic.

Ever since we crossed into Mongolia back in June the roads , and sometimes the lack of them, have punished the bikes far more than we envisaged. Now with further issues, fortunately with us once more being in the right place at the right time to find a man to fix it, we feel we may have run our luck to the limit.

For the first 30 kilometres the road out of Kazakhstan from Uralsk to the Russian border was in prime condition but the remaining 100 kilometres was still under reconstruction. This meant that for large sections it was a temporary surface with deep ruts and potholes. The sections not under reconstruction had not been maintained for years and in places it was more hole than road with a sandy track at the side being used by cars. The 300 kilometres on the Russian side was asphalt but so rough it was like washboard all the way to Saratov.

This time it was our pannier frames that suffered.

We were getting our swimming gear out for a dip in the Volga when Jean spotted her pannier was a touch lower than it should be. On closer inspection we could see one of the main components, a bracket, had split.

In a sour mood we stripped the pannier off and went on a welder hunt.

We found Gregory, the local welder, just around the corner from our hotel and explained, with the aid of photos how the bracket connects to the bike. He welded it up for us, free of charge.

In a much better mood we refitted the pannier.

As a precaution we checked the rest of the brackets. One of mine had a crack 75% of the way through. We dismantled another pannier and I went to smile nicely at Gregory again. Once more he refused payment, but warned me the parts were now weak and should not be abused, that we should buy new ones as soon as possible.

It was now too late in the day for the long trek to the city beach, at the mid point of the bridge, so we visited the Yuri Gagarin museum. Saratov was where he attended technical college and they have dedicated a room to his part in the exploration of space.

As we walked we discussed our plans and routes. There were bound to be more poor roads between Saratov and Georgia. Then maybe more further on in Turkey and beyond.

Would we be near a welder if the brackets went again?

What would break next? So far we have had to replace a radiator, add sealant to my radiator, change a complete dashboard and many bolts (my frame bolt being a major item) as well as many other "minor" bodges.

It feels as if a new item is breaking every few days. At the end of every day we need to check the bikes over, tightening bolts and checking fluids. Our confidence that the bikes are capable of this trip has been eroded. My bike although young in years has already covered over 70,000 miles and now four continents. They have managed the main objective, Mongolia, where we  rode our luck with the first  radiator issue. Would it be worth pushing them to breaking point and not getting one or both home ?

It also occurred to us that due to the route changes already made (shorter time in Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan due to radiator issues, and dropping Uzbekistan) we were a month ahead of our rough schedule. The temperature in the Russian Caucasus​, Georgia and Turkey would still be in the mid to high 30s, possibly into the 40s.

Hence we decided to continue west, towards Ukraine and Poland. This will cut the distance by more than 2500 kilometres. 

Once back in Europe we will regain the safety net of European Recovery. And there are some mountains that could be visited, hopefully on smoother surfaces.

At some point in the future we will take another trip towards the Black Sea region, following the Adriatic, to taste the wine and cheese of Georgia.

On a positive note leaving Kazakhstan was a doddle. We pulled up behind a queue of cars, and they all waved us to the front. At the barrier the guard confirmed we were tourists then let us through. At the passport booth again we were ushered to the front. Finally at the Russian side we were guided to the tourist vehicle queue, us and one car, before another speedy barrier lift.

Back to Europe

Back on the European continent that is. We crossed the Ural river in North West Kazakhstan and have left Central Asia.

The ride North from Taraz, across the steppe was long, hot and sticky. At first we kept the days short, starting early and finishing early. We aimed to be in an air conditioned hotel room and a cool shower by 1400 (this did not always go to plan). Thus avoiding camping on the arid, sandy plains.

There were some interesting stops and attractions along the way, but the best of them was our first ever encounter with corrupt police. When we considered the tens of thousands of miles we have traveled, across continents and around the world, it was left to Kazakhstan, the country that tries so hard to please, to give us this gift.

It is a pity that it was so half arsed.

The blue lights appeared in our mirrors and we were told to pull over.

The two officers came over, shook my hand and then asked  to see my passport, one escorted me to his car and shooed Jean away. Once there he showed me a camera still of a motorbike doing 134KPH in front of him.

At this point I knew a bribe was imminent as ;

A) It clearly was not my bike.
B) His car was at right angles when I passed it (at 78KPH). The camera was in a fixed position pointing forward.
C) They were not in the car when I passed it.

He asked me if I had any cameras on my jacket and patted it down. I showed him my standard camera but not my phone.

Next he started to look at forms, pulled his pen out to write but then made a gesture that indicated it would be a lot of work. He folded the the forms up, smiled and asked for a gift, while holding out his hand.

So I shook his hand. Then he rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. So I shook his hand again.

Finally he scribbled a dollar symbol.

I was curious, and asked how much (skolka).

He wrote $100. I shook my head and said "no" , arms crossed across my chest in a Russian "no means no" kind of way.

This went on for a while, him holding his hand out, me shaking it. At one point I showed him my muggers wallet (it contains out of date cards and a small sum of money, usually about 5 pounds worth. But I had forgotten to remove the Kyrgyzstan money and replace it with Kazakhstan tenge. He didn't notice).

Eventually I got fed up, took my passport back and got out of the car.

By now a van driver had pulled up and was sat in his cab watching proceedings. We presume to keep an eye on the police.

Jean had managed to take photos, we suspect he realised this as he looked cross, pointed at his camera phone and then his car. We smiled and agreed a selfie would be a good idea.

Making gestures he suggested that Jean should get in his car, we refused. I slammed his door, shook his hand, waved to his colleague (who had spent all this time trying to wave traffic past) , we put our helmets on and rode off.

The other attractions, along with the occasional herd of camels were;

Mosques

A mausoleum

An archaeological dig at an ancient fortified city, Sauran.

And some space launch site thing.