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Week 1 | Week 2 | Week
3 | Week 4
| Week 5
| Week 6
| Week 7
| Week 8
| Week 9
Week 10
| Week 11
| Week 12
| Week 13
| Week 14
| Week 15
Bratsk
May 16, 2003
The expanse of the Taiga
appeared unbounded as the plane began its descent. Spring had not
arrived.
Contrasted with the thick forest over which I had flown, Bratsk
appeared to have been clear cut and replaced with rows of apartments
as far as the eye could see. The streets were dusty and wide. Bratsk
is home to Siberia's largest aluminum smelting plant and is notorious
for having some of the most polluted
air in the former Soviet Union.
Tomorrow I
begin riding my bicycle in what, in the combination of its parts,
will be a trip from the Russian coast on the Sea of Japan to the Dutch
coast along the North Sea. I begin my journey in Bratsk. Later, I
will meet up with cyclists in Vladivostok.
Between Tem & Guran
Day 1 -- Saturday, May 17, 2003
After an inadvertent detour past the aluminum smelting plant and a few additional adjustments to the bicycle, I finally found the road to Tulun. It was an unmarked road that everyone knew about, but no one knew how to tell me to get there.
Whoever wrote that Siberia
is flat did not bicycle the Bratsk-Tulun road.
The area outside of Bratsk is predominately forest. There were numerous trucks passing by filled with newly logged trees. Because there are so few towns between Bratsk and Tulun, I camped in an area that had recently been cleared by loggers.
The road was lined with small fires. These smaller, controlled fires helped prevent larger forest fires. As I was passing one fire, I was called over and
offered tea by one of the fire fighters. Aleksandr and some of his
colleagues were breaking for lunch and we shared hard-boiled eggs,
salted fat, and bread. He explained all they had to fight fires was
a few bulldozers and a glorified hand-powered squirt-gun that could
hold up to 25 liters of water -- not exactly what you want to fight
a large fire.
Thankful for their hospitality, I continued along the quiet road, finding friendly people wherever I stopped. And when I stopped for the evening, I felt that I had been reminded of something I have always believed -- there are good people everywhere in the world.
Tulun
Day 2 -- Sunday, May 18, 2003
I stopped at a store in Tulun to pick up some food before leaving
town. As I waited for a store to open, I began talking with Oleg and
his wife. They had not met an American before, let alone one riding
a bicycle across Siberia. Before I could leave, they invited me to
dinner and a banya
(sauna).
Oleg is a truck driver. Two years ago he purchased a used truck that he often uses to transport wood. Most of the trucks I saw on the road were hauling freshly cut logs and many houses had stacks of cut wood in the yard.
Tulun is smaller than Bratsk
and appears more run down and depressed. Oleg says that most people
in Tulun are unemployed
and that it is difficult to find work, but unlike many people I have
met in my travels of the former Soviet Union, he does not complain
about his life. Instead, he says he is fortunate to have work and
while life can be difficult, he likes where he lives.
The evening ended with the banya. Most people will prepare the banya once during the week, often on a Friday or Saturday evening. Since I was a guest, Oleg prepared the banya on an off night. The banya was made of wood, with a stove for boiling water. After four hours the water was hot enough. Mint was added to a pail of hot water, and a combination of cold and hot water thrown on the stove produced copious amounts of steam. The warmth of the sauna made for relaxing end to the first two days of riding.
Outside of UK
Day 3 -- Monday, May 19, 2003
Maps lie.
I knew that around 1600 miles of the trip would be unpaved,
but the major highway, the only road from Irkutsk
to Novosibirsk,
is designated on Russian road maps as being all asphalt. Thus, after
a good start, I was surprised to hit a stretch of unpaved road about
15 kilometers outside of Tulun. The first downhill was too soft and
sandy to ride, so I had to walk it with my bike. A truck hauling logs
was not as cautious and had overturned a few hours earlier. The driver
was sitting at the side of the road and given the state of his truck,
I opted not to ask for details and just kept walking.
A bit further along the road and gravel was solid enough to allow me to ride at a slow and cautious pace. Some places I still had to walk my bike, but slowly I was making progress. After about 35 kilometers, pavement reappeared and the wind began to pick up.
Around 10:30 p.m., when I was finished cycling (the days are long,
with light up until around 11:30 p.m.), I stopped at a cafe outside
of -- well, it was really a truck stop outside of nowhere. I talked
with the workers, both named Tanya, and since the evening promised
frost, they offered to let me stay upstairs in one of the spare rooms.
The cafe itself was open 24 hours and the upstairs had three rooms.
I slept on the floor of the one that was unfinished, but certainly
it was warmer than my tent.
Today used to be Pioneer Day, but the holiday is no longer celebrated.
During Soviet times, children would go to "Pioneer
Camps" and learn how to be good young communists. There are still
camps that children love going to during the summer months, but they
have lost their communist indoctrination and the red scarves that
went along with it.
Outside Taishet
Day 4 -- Tuesday, May 20, 2003
For some reason, it seemed more natural for the bicycle trip to begin
in the eastern part of Asia/Russia and end in Western Europe/Netherlands.
But one thing I neglected to think about in planning an East to West
trip was that the prevailing winds seem to be coming out of the west.
Thus, I left this morning facing a head wind and the realization that
this head wind would likely be my sparring partner for then next 7400
miles -- a sober thought for any cyclist.
Nonetheless, I was making decent time for the first 10 miles until
again, I hit gravel and sand roads. The roads were worse than yesterday.
In places my tires would sink and I ended up walking my bicycle 10
to 15 kilometers.
The area is remote and often times the only companion you have (aside from the bugs) is the sound of the train. Every hour or so, you will hear a train churning down the tracks that parallel the road. Occasionally, the trains will have passenger cars, but most often they are transporting wood or coal.
If the engineer sees you in time, you invariably get a wave and the whistle, which makes you smile and inspires you a bit. Actually, everyone I have met has been wonderful. Drivers and passengers in passing vehicles often honk and wave. And whenever I talk with people, they always say "molodetz" ("excellent") and wish me safe travels along the way.
That night, I stayed outside Taishet,
an industrial town that looks as if it was once on the edge of prosperity,
but for the last 20 years has just been falling apart. It is a major
connecting point for the Trans-Siberian
railway, but not a place to spend much time.
Kansk
Day 5 -- Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Last night was very cold, in the low 30s, so a driving force for today's ride was making it to Kansk where there was a hotel with a bed and a warm shower.
Starting off in the morning, I faced a headwind that was colder than
the days before. The road was better than yesterday, though there
were still sections that were unpaved.
Most of my contact for the day was with the traffic police at different
check points along the way. I actually look forward to the checkpoints
as a break and opportunity to talk with someone. A guy on a bicycle
is one of the more interesting things they have seen all day and with
sternness and seriousness, they try to make it seem they stop you
for official reasons. Of course, it is easy to see that the real reason
is curiosity. They never ask for your documents and once you start
talking to them, their faces immediately relax and are overcome with
interest. Generally, we share a few laughs and then I am on my way,
but I like the game of how they try to mask their genuine curiosity
with "official" actions. At one point, I had them turn on the lights
and sirens while one officer on the public announcement system was
giving me a "Go bicyclist go!" cheer.
As the sun was setting, I made it to Kansk
and the warm shower and shave was all for I had hoped it would be.
Reportedly, at one time Kansk
had a large Jewish
population, as many who were persecuted for religious reasons
fled to Siberia.
Through purges, movements and influx of atheists and Orthodox, I saw
little sign of religious diversity in Kansk
. A longer stay would probably be more revealing, but I am sure there
will be more to say about the religious and ethnic landscape when
I reach places like Birobidjan and Bashikirdistan.
Outside Tertez
Day 6 -- Thursday, May 22, 2003
Exhausted from the long ride the day before, I overslept and got off to a later start than I had intended. As I was leaving the hotel, however, I discovered that I had changed time zones and that I was more or less on time.
As I left Kansk,
I cycled past a military
air base with fighter jets partially hidden. I do not know much
about the status of the base -- it seemed small and not too active
-- but I had been told earlier about a few towns around Kansk that
had been closed to non-residents. Residents of those towns were usually
employed by the military during Soviet times, and often they would
have a better standard of living than residents in cities like Moscow
or Leningrad (St. Petersburg).
What is striking is how few non-Russians
I have seen. The indigenous populations have been pushed to the more
remote areas, but I expected to see some non-Russian villages. Today
I saw two non-Russian shepherds. Russians who I have talked with about
the non-Russian population speak more of discrimination than assimilation.
Later, I was called over for tea by some road workers taking a break. They were making tea in a tin can over a camp fire at the side of the road. It was too late for them to improve the road that I had been on, so when asked my opinion about the roads I diplomatically remarked that some sections were better than others. They laughed, saying more bluntly that some sections were horrible.
Over the winter, there were three months of work for which they had
not been paid, so in some ways their long tea breaks are understandable.
They all said that the standard of living was better elsewhere, especially
in Moscow, but all 10 of them agreed that Siberia was the best place
in the country and, for them, the world.
Near Mal Kemcug
Day 7 -- Friday, May 23, 2003
I am becoming king of the truck stops. Eating in roadside restaurants
four times a day, I think I have seen most of the cafes between
Bratsk and here. All have pretty much the same food, so there is
nothing remarkable about them other than that most of them are relatively
new. One man I spoke with said many of the cafes had come with the
"introduction" of capitalism 10 years ago.
Many people in the cities do not seem to know their way around outside
the cities. In Krasnoyarsk, for example, as I was trying to leave
town, the majority of people, including police officers, could not
give me directions to the road to Novosibirsk.
Truck drivers were most helpful. They probably benefit the most
from the roadside cafe capitalism.
I had taken the detour into Krasnoyarsk
to see the city and send an email home. As I searched for a place
with Internet access (usually at the main post office), an older
man with silver-capped teeth and a warm smile was excited to help
with directions. He had no idea what the Internet was, but he did
give me a list of 10 or 15 restaurant recommendations.
After an hour of searching, I finally found my way to the Internet center. Stopping along the way to take a picture of a church, I spotted three men in front of the church entrance begging for money. I expected them to ask for money from me, but instead they wanted to talk about the bike and bicycling. After talking for awhile, they wished me a safe trip and returned to their posts in front of the church. I was ashamed of my earlier assumptions and prejudices.
Bogotol
Day 8 -- Saturday, May 24, 2003
Last night was cold.
I woke up with a thick layer of frost on the tent. The water in
my bottles was frozen. I assumed that Siberia
would be cold, but I hoped by late May it wouldn't still be
freezying. The push for the day became getting to a town for the
night in hopes that there would be a warm place to stay. Although
Achinsk was large enough to have a hotel, I wanted to get further
down the road and set my goal as Bogotol.
Achinsk is a large industrial town that appears neglected. Near Bratsk, you see trucks hauling wood. In the region around Achinsk and further west there are more trucks hauling coal and other mined materials. The region is flatter than where I had cycled earlier, and since there was no wind I made good time.
There was very little between Achinsk and Bogotol. When I arrived at Bogotol, I went to the only restaurant and found that there was no hotel. The town was less of an attraction than the big letters on the map suggested.
As I arrived at the cafe, a group of younger men were leaving and I expected some hassles from them. When hearing about the ride they went to their cars and got cameras to take a picture together and we ended up talking for a while before I went in for dinner.
Lena and Oksana who were working at the cafe made me dinner and then arranged for a place for me to stay.
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