21st July

I awoke with something on my mind. It wasn’t anything more pressing than whether or not to leave the half used conti trail-attacks behind or whether to carry them with me through Mongolia in case of running the knobblies down on the run to Moscow. If I left them stashed around the hotel somewhere, it would be a 250km detour off the run home to collect them, but I figured that would be better than lugging an extra two tyres through Mongolia, when the lightness of the bike is paramount. So, if you’re in that neck of the woods and your tyres are worse for wear, there’s a pukka set of tyres behind the garage of a hotel I can provide you with the details of. If not, I’ll get them next summer!

We stopped off at a supermarket, got a few blini’s and then started making our way to the Russian Altai. The Altai mountains are a major tourist destination with great rapid-rafting, hiking and climbing. It didn’t take long to see why. We gained altitude and the scenery was stunning. Added to this, for one of the first times on the trip, I was able to put the bike on it’s side in the twisties. A few stops later, some of which involved meeting Hans from Holland – the tallest man I’ve ever met and who rode a grey version of my bike – a meet with 2 Finnish guys on 1200Adv’s on their return from Mongolia where we were taking some photos and a last stop for food and our ritual can of beer for camp as well as photoshoot with locals, the rain started coming down heavily. I pulled in ahead of the guys and saw what seemed like an ok campsite by the river. There was an outside covered table which would offer us enough shelter to relax and cook. We bathed, cooked, and listened to the rapids, which were soothing after the dry winds of the desert. Pauli and I slept outside by the table while the others preferred their tents. It wasn’t the best night of sleep, but none of us had anything pressing to do the next day other than continue towards the Mongolian border.