18th July

After getting up, cooking up porridge or whatever, we packed the bikes and made for the Kazakh/Russian border. A quick stop was required to get some more rehydration juice. After a few mins, 2 or 3 ladies came running out from their little home across the road and presented us with a big bag of homemade dumplings and freshly baked bread. The epitome and friendliness and kindness, the women told us that they were Christians and they considered us as their children and therefore wanted to look after us. It reminded me of when Jesus said (I think in Matthew 5) unless you look after the ‘least of these, then you shall not see the Kingdom of Heaven’. It made a pleasant change for me to be at the ‘least of these’ end of the spectrum. At that moment of hunger and fatigue, I wasn’t for arguing!

In order to get to Mongolia you have to jump out of Kazakhstan into either Russia or China for severeal hundred kms before you reach Mongolia. China was off-limits because you need to pay $1000′s for a guide. The communist authorities couldn’t have some curious Westerners wondering freely around their country now, could they? So, Russia it was, which wasn’t a bad thing because the next big city was Barnaul which has a huge biking community, and after that the wonders of the Russian Altai mountains down to Mongolia.

The border crossing was a 4-5 hour process and in the heat was a little frustrating as the officials seemed to be on lunch break. We worked our way through the gifted dumplings and bread and then I lay on the side of the road and tried to kip for a short time while some of the others began to get a card game up and going. As though watching us and to spite us, 2 mins after the card game began and I started entertaining the Greek goddess ‘Coma’, we were beckoned through and began the endless tirade of meaningless paperwork and interminable bureaucratic stamping. In all seriousness, what do they do with all these dusty books that they write your details in?

After getting through we stopped in the first cafe and the ‘deerwouska’ (girl/waitress) shouted us some nice potato pastries and coffees. I think they felt sorry for us having to suffer that border crossing.

As the entrance into Russia took so long, we didn’t cover much ground today. We also had to stop for Pauli again, as the main bolt holding his engine to the frame had almost rattled out and was still in by only a few threads. The only reason he found it was because Pauli made a ritual inspection of his bike every time we stopped. Watching how this guy could contort his body for the purposes of inspection was quite a sight and if ever he applies to be the Finnish equivalent of an MOT tester, I’ll be more than happy to write his reference. Eventually he and Pawel got it sorted and we were ready to hit the road again.

Russia felt very different to Kazakhstan with the air being more humid and clouds offering some shade from the sun. As dusk approached, Pavel and I took off down a track to see if there was a suitable place for us all to camp that night. Whilst not anywhere near as pleasant as the night before, it was tolerable. A lake was visible from the site, so while Pavel went and fetched the guys, I did a reccie to see if we might be able to swim in the lake. If getting through inches of green algae is your thing, then I guess it was ok to swim, but none of us had that particular fetish, so passed on bathing that evening.

Again the roar of the stoves piped up and at the same time the legendary Siberian mozzies came out to play. Everyone plied themselves with each others mosquito repellent in the vain hope that the cocktail of German, Finnish, British and Polish sprays and roll ons might have some effect. It was in vain, and so we called it a day to the sound of the rain on canvas.