RETURN TO RUSSIA; A MOTORCYCLE TRIP ACROSS SIBERIA
Go to HELL or rot in Siberia one of us has often been told.
We chose the latter as we thought it might be possible to
return. Our goal was to be the first to explore Siberia
by motorcycle. We intended to ship the 1991 BMW GS
motorcycle to Siberia, travel without an escort, and video
tape the entire trip. We planned to start in northeastern
Siberia at a famous Gulag prison center on the coast
called Magadan and drive 3000 miles to Lake Baykal and then
continue farther west about 1000 miles where we would find
pavement. Our sources in western Russia believed such a
journey to be impossible and the government of the USSR
refused to give us any assistance (unless we paid them ) as did BMW NA.
We had already made one trip by motorcycle through Western
Russia, a story we told previously. ð
For our second trip to Russian we thought about seeking
sponsors but one experienced person told us, sponsors demand
a lot, but really do little for you. We wrote to BMW NA, and
asked anyway. Even a letter from them might prove helpful.
They wrote back saying, sorry but, they had few resources and
what they did have they could allocate only on safety
programs. It was not until a year later did we learn that
they had decided to sponsor "The Battle of the Legends" race
and later axed Reg Primore and the onlyreal safety program
they had called "The Class". But without a sponsor, we
had no obligation to them nor they to us. It was only
later as we will relate later, we found that BMW
tried to sabotage our trip.
Having a sponsor might have been helpful as we lacked four
major qualifications. Although we had canoed in the Arctic,
we had never undertaken a hard, long dangerous motorcycle trip.
We have no mechanical abilities. We have no linguistic
abilities, we don't speak Russian. We had never been
off-road, never had ridden a dirt bike. We would learn
the hard way. Further, we are not rich therefore, couldn't buy our
way out of trouble and not young enough to rebound quickly.
Our children were grown, the only obligation we had was to
finish the trip by the time our vacation ended.
We found that this meant we could never stop
to enjoy ourselves if we wanted to return home on time and not
to lose our employment.
There were many obstacles. One was getting the
BMW to Magadan from Oregon. Alaska Airlines had recently
begun flights from Anchorage, but it was for passengers,
not cargo. We found a boat on which to ship
the motorcycle, but then were told by an air freight handler that
he could send the motorcycle, to Magadan from Oregon, by
plane which we agreed to do. Later, he told us he had
made an error and could not air freight it as promised. The boat
had left. The only choice was to airfreight it the long way, from Oregon to New
York, to Moscow, and finally Magadan - about three-fourths
of the way around the world, the long way. We were
promised that it would arrive before us. With no other options left,
if we were to meet our timeliness, we crated and air shipped it.
Another obstacle was obtaining permission to enter the Soviet
Union and travel unescorted. We had done this on the first motorcycle
trip into the Soviet Union, the previous year. We took an unauthorized trip, without an escort
into the Ukraine, Belorussia, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia,
Russia and then into Finland. We wanted to travel alone
without an official escort across Siberia, without paying large sums
of money to the Soviet government. Other motorcyclists who had
traveled in Russia before had paid (the one who had tried
the year before and failed still had to pay the Soviet Union or their agent
$50000.00 the Russians told us).
During our planning we were given the name of a Russian
motorcyclist, Nikolai. We wrote and asked if he knew any
possible route without loading our motorcycle on the
Trans-Siberian railroad (as had previously been done by
others when the southern road runs into a 800 mile swamp!). He
wrote back and said, he lived far from Siberia in Western Russia, he
did not know of any route and in fact had tried the southern
route but had been forced to load his motorcycle on the
train. He wrote that he would like to travel with us and
try again but wanted to bring another motorcyclist as it
was too hard and dangerous to travel alone or with only one
other motorcycle. We did not follow up on this offer
as our style is to travel alone, two-up.
We flew to Alaska and then to Magadan in July. After
passing through customs we could not locate our motorcycle.
It was "lost". We realized that if we waited for it to be
found we would be permanent residences of Siberia and good
paying jobs were scarce there. So, with reservations, we chose to see
Siberia by joining a couple from New Zealand and their
Canadian guide who had not previously traveled along the
route we were to take. The arrangement with this group was
to travel in a Russia-made van with an old Russian Army jeep. We
drove the old Russian army jeep.
From Magadan to Khandya there is a famous truck route often seen
on winter travelogues of Siberia. On this route truckers
travel in pairs for safety. The roads are all dirt and
cross many rivers, large and small. Since there are few bridges.
fording rivers was the highlight on this portion of our
trip. After the first very long week we arrived in Khandga,
left the jeep to board a boat. It would take us in two
days, down river to the Lena river. The boat would then turn
south to Yakutsk. At Yakutsk one can continue for
another ten days up the Lena to reach the
head waters west of Lake Baykal.
The two day boat ride was long and the least exciting part of
our journey. Although, once at mid-night, the captain
wanted to fish and stopped the boat to do so. If one had
a choice between a boat trip on a famous river larger than
the Mississippi or a motorcycle ride, we are certain most readers
would choose the motorcycle but we had no choice.
For some people, such a ride would be away of relaxing but,
for us it was hell. Not only was it boring, but huge biting flies
plagued most passengers during the heat of the day.
Just before we left Magadan, knowing that our motorcycle was
not going to arrive, in an act of desperation, we
telegrammed Nikolai. We told him that if he and his
friend wanted to meet us it would have to be at a hotel in
Yakutsk on 11, July . The boat would dock
but not for more than one to two hours. They
had to travel 6000 miles east by train plus1000 miles
north by motorcycle With notice at the last minute there was
a one in 7000 chance of meeting. When the boat docked we
caught a ride to the hotel and tried to determine if our
friends had arrived or made reservations. "Nyet" was the
answer and we feared ten days of inactivity aboard the boat
loomed ahead. We were not excited. As we walked down the hotel steps
two motorcyclist drove up. One slipped on an oil spot, going
down in front of us. We could see from the license plates
that they were from western Russia. We helped the
him up and we knew that here were our new friends.
After off loading their motorcycles from the Trans-Siberian
railroad, they had ridden nonstop for 24 hours. They were
dirty, tired and now embarrassed. Male machoism is
still very strong in Russia.
We were very happy to see them and they to see us. They
said that since we did not have a motorcycle we could
double up, they on one and we on the other. The journey
would be difficult and they were uncertain if
any roads going west existed north of the
Trans-Siberian railroad. Not only were there probably no
roads but much of the area was swampy as in Alaska
the tundra, below three feet, never thaws out. We now had
only 3 minutes before the boat left and no time to ponder
future problems. We hurried to the dock, removed our
motorcycle gear, and left whatever we could with a friend
who promised to mail it to the US when the boat docked at
its final destination.
Two mistakes would affect our trip. We did not take
enough 35mm film nor our battery charger for the video.
Our Russian friends mailed home as many items as they could
to reduce the loads on the bikes including the spare
inner tubes. This was necessary because these Russian
motorcycles were simple 250cc two stokes producing 27
horsepower meant only for city street travel. They were not
dirt nor dual-purpose bikes. They were little more than
mere toys and doubling up and riding them off road
exceeded their capabilities, and quite often, ours.
But, what we lacked in foresight and in motorcycles we more
than made up for the difference in our new friends.
Nikolai, nearly fifty and weighing maybe 141 pounds taught
cross-county skiing in the winter, knew how to travel the
Russian countryside. Vanya, who was much younger, was a gentle
Russian ex-soldier who always had a smile. Vanya, a worker in an
industrial plant, possessed the mechanical abilities that ensured any problem
other than a major breakdown could be repaired on the road.
They both exhibited those Russian qualities: resilience, patience,
mechanical know-how, and the skill to drive a motorcycle
for 16 hours over rough roads without a break, which made it
a pleasure to travel with them. But this trip would
sorely test their abilities and more than once Vanya lost
his smile.
Our maps showed the route south from Yakutsk to Tynda, a
city on the BAM, was all dirt. We discovered
there were bridges over most all of the rivers, certainly the
major ones. It was very hot the first day. After covering
about 25 kilometers we had the first of l5 to 20
flats. In fact, we had five flats the first day and only
went 118 kilometers.
On the second day, we stopped at a small community and
immediately had another flat. Three of us took the tire
and tube to a blacksmith and left the only female member
guarding the motorcycle. Of course, 20 children gathered
around and tried out their English, which was amusing.
Then the criminal investigation unit of the police department
appeared and the tone changed. However, they only wanted to know
who brought the Americans to their town, they did not even look at
our visa and passports. While the Nikolai and Vanya stayed at the
blacksmiths the two of us rejoined just as it started to
rain. The police invited us into their vehicle for shelter.
As a passing comment we asked if they knew where we could
buy an inner tube since Nikolai had been told
that there were none in town. The police said they did not
know of any inner tubes but would try to help find one.
They radioed headquarters and were told where one might be
found. We rapidly drove through town, stopped a villager who
took us to his home, and a tube was produced. This was
our first experience with the Russian Mafia. When we
asked how much, he said it was a "gift". The tire with the
new tube never went flat again and we wished we had
asked for four new ones instead of just one.
After camping outside town for the night we left for Tynda,
where the road intersects with the BAM and the journey west
would begin. It was still hot and dusty but as we arrived
in Tynda it started to rain very hard. In searching for a
place to stay we unknowingly made an illegal turn and were
stopped by the police. When they learned that we were
Americans, they personally escorted us to a place to spend
the night. We had decided to wait for the rain to stop
but it continued into the next day. Since we were
rested we started west along the railroad. No roads were
shown on any of our maps and without roads there would be
neither gas nor food. We had sleeping bags and tents but
that was all. We had no idea where we were going except
west.
This northern BAM railroad was built because the Russians
were afraid the Chinese would invade and cut the more
southern Trans-Siberian railroad just a few miles
across the border. The BAM was to be more than just a
railroad project. The planners intended that there would be
communities spaced at 100 mile intervals or so along the
railroad. Some were to raise crops or cattle, some lumber,
some for trapping and hunting. To build the railroad a
dirt road had been built with wooden bridges over all the
rivers. Well, at least over most of the larger ones. No
maintenance had been done once the railroad was finished,
more than twenty years ago. At one point we came to a
large river where the old bridge had collapsed. There was no way
now to cross except by the railroad bridge. Two guards were posted to
keep people off. We asked how local people traveled across and were
told that those east of the river only traveled east and
those west only traveled west. Their orders were to allow
no one on the bridge due to previous accidents. After some
fast talking (by the Russians) the guards eventually relented
and allowed us to drive across the railroad bridge between trains.
Since the bridge guards were women, we kidded Vanya that he must
have promised to sleep with them. In fact, in thinking about it,
perhaps he did because we later learned that the women had been
replaced by men.
At another river we were refused entry to a bridge by very
serious male Russian army guards and at Vayna's request we
resorted to a different tactic. We found a
motorboat and hired the owner to transport us across
in three trips. The river was at flood stage. He
did not have enough power to go up river with a motorcycle aboard.
He had to go downstream to off-load in a cow pasture.
Just as he got us all on the side the rains began again.
This was the 10th day and would prove to be the worst.
Due to the wet muddy, conditions, we each went down three times.
The Russians went down, hard, twice. Once, slipping on the railroad track
crossing and again on the road. The other falls were just slips in the mud
resulting only in bruised egos.
Then, Nikolai and Vanya stopped on an old wooden bridge. Nikolai put one foot down
almost falling through into the raging river below. We stopped our motorcycle at
the same place but, for some reason the passenger refused to get off.
Along this portion of our journey there was no gas. We were forced
to stop local logging or work trucks and ask for gas. It was very common
for truckers to carry a siphon hose and a five gallon bucket. They would
decline money when we asked to pay. Often they would also
give us canned milk or canned meat. Once a hunter even gave
us his only knife. And most interesting, another Russian
gave us a map that showed a future road where we were now
traveling.
As we traveled along the BAM we thought that it would get
worse as we reached the middle, then improve as we slowly
headed west to Lake Baykal. We were wrong.
At first the dirt road was not too bad and if
we had had dirt bikes it would have been less of a problem.
However, road conditions deteriorated as we moved
west. Even after we passed Lake Baykal and entered more
densely populated areas the road was not improving. In fact,
the worst of the entire trip.
Every day was an adventure. No Russians had ever driven
along this road as they found it much easier to take the
train. The area had just been opened up to foreigners and
none had passed this far north before. There were reports
of one or two motorcyclists attempting to cross Russia
in the south but when the going got tough, the tough got
on the Trans-Siberian Train. This was not for us as we were determined, to do
it the difficult way, only by motorcycle.
Most days we came to small villages every 100 miles or so
where we met local people, ate their food, saw how they
lived, and experienced the new and old clashing in Siberia.
We traveled on roads not intended for cross country travel,
camping along the railroad to be repeatedly awakened during the
night by trains passing within feet. All our cameras fail because of
the rough going. We picked berries along the side of the road
and generally had a greattime even when it was exceedingly
hot or rainy. We were up by 6 a.m., leaving without
breakfast, riding until noon when we would have lunch, if we
could find food, and then on until dark,
sometimes after. In remote Siberia there are no camp sites
except what you chose to make. Some times, with 20 hours of
sunlight, as in Alaska, it would be hot and dusty, then
there would be snow, then river valleys, then uplands. We
always traveled along the railway except twice when the
track entered tunnels forcing us far into the mountains.
We camped , not only because there were no hotels, but we enjoyed camping.
Our Russian friends were in constant fear of thieves,
telling us several horror stories. We didn't listen
closely enough as we will tell in another story. We
couldn't stop to enjoy ourselves because of our time
limitation and we would have been devoured by
mosquitoes, or sometimes, other flying pests.
By this time we had reached the northern shore of Lake Baykal and
then drove further west until we were within a few hundred
miles of the road that is paved and it's possible to continue west to Moscow.
Everything that could go wrong with the Russian motorcycles by now
had, and they were obviously slowly disintegrating. The
motors were going and it was just a matter of
time before a complete breakdown occurred. After a few
more days one of the motorcycles final gave up and there ended the
journey. We never reached the pavement. A small airport was nearby,
so we flew to Irkutsk. The airport was so rural that
the ticket agent did not know she was
supposed to charge us tourist prices. The charge was in
rubles, which amounted to $.35 for l500 miles by air. (Yes, 35 cents.)
We wished Nikolai and Vanya a safe trip as they loaded the motorcycles on
the train and returned west to the Urals where they lived.
This was not the trip we had originally planned, since we did not do it
on our BMW and fell a few miles short of reaching pavement.
But we had motorcycled through the difficult part of
Siberia on poor roads, with no gas stations, and nothing to
buy in the few stores we found. In our 3000 mile motorcycle
journey we encountered almost every condition that could be
expected on dirt roads. But despite the difficulties we made many
Russian friends who invited us to stay with them if we came
back. And, we cemented our relationship with our two
traveling companions.
A motorcycle trip is always something to remember and we
will never forget our second trip to Siberia. We had
accomplished the difficult part of the main goal of traveling
across Siberia without an escort, although we were able to
video tape only a limited amount of the journey. It was not
a journey thatð one would want to willingly repeat.
But during this journey we never did solve the problem
of what happened to our BMW GS. Where was it? Was the president of
Russia, Boris, riding it about? Did any other Russian deserve
such a wonderful bike? We knew that if we had been able to take
our BMW on the trip it would have been much easier, or so we thought.
About four months after we returned home to Oregon we
received a telegram from Russia about our BMW motorcycle. Later, we
will relate what happened to our BMW,
ourselves, and Russia on our third trip when we returned to recover
our BMW . It will not be pretty picture.
Note: a video of the journey is available at resouces at the Homepage.
*
RETURN TO HOMEPAGE FOR HAWS
*
OR GOT TO RUSSIA HOMEPAGE
*
OR TO INTERNATIONAL MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURERS
http://www.rio.com/~tynda
4 DEC 96