What more can I say about Mongolia. It is beautiful beyond belief because of the scale. The mountains are big. The Gobi Desert is big. The treeless rolling hills and plains are so big they look like they stretch forever and the people are just the most down to earth sincere race on the planet. I will never forget their smiles, inquisitive nature and their sheer tenacity in making such a simple life so meaningful. We spent the last days in Mongolia camping beside a cluster of Gers in the Altai Mountains. It was situated in a valley near Tsengal on the banks of a fast river surrounded by ancient trees that resembled Scots Pine. Sadly there was no sign of any regeneration of these famous landmarks as every seedling was gobbled up by the heavy and persistent grazing of cattle herds. Like the families that lived there, the herds had their own daily routine. We spent three glorious days camped next to 4 families who all came to visit us at various times of the day. They offered yogurt and fresh milk and refused to take any money. It is just in their nature to share whatever they have. We all enjoyed playing with the kids and when one of the men discovered I had a flat tyre they rallied round and wanted to help fit a new tube.
Having bragged about the fact that we had encountered only minor damage to the bikes in my last blog, Baz's BMW 1150 Adventure managed to sheer the rear shocker bolt clean off causing the rear swing arm mount to snap on the last day in Mongolia. It was a terminal situation as he had no rear suspension. Fortunately one of the guys had been clever enough to fabricate an aluminum trailer that could be assembled in 10 minutes. His bike will be transported to Almaty in Kazakhstan behind the Land Rover where parts are being shipped from the UK to repair his bike. Luckily for me the Mule had remained completely unscathed without a scratch despite several falls in deep sand.
I have now departed Mongolia after 4 weeks and headed NW through the beautiful Altai Region of Russia and retraced my steps back to Omsk. Sadly I have left my friends behind also as they have a different time table. The border crossing was extraordinarily slow and frustrating. I suspect it is the system and not the attitude of officials that makes the whole process so inefficient. If one was to retrace their steps around the border complex, it would look like an ants nest. Each official was at the opposite end of the buildings. Each had a ruled pad that recorded the same info as the last. It was just diabolical!! Customs and immigration services throughout the world have a real challenge on their hands to make border crossing efficient and (well) enjoyable.
The ride through the Altai was the best I have ever encountered in a lifetime of riding bikes. 200kms of perfect tarmac through huge deep river valleys with little or no traffic. We followed the headwaters of a river from its inception near the snowline down a deep raging angry surge that was 100-200m wide. Every sweeping curve in the valley was picture postcard perfect. The river is a tourist mecca for Russians with the lower reaches of the deep valley floor highly developed for camping, fishing and water sports.
My return to Omsk was not planned but due to necessity. When getting my visa for Kazakhstan in Ulaanbataar, the entry date was put down as the 15/7 and not 15/6. Rather than spoiling my time in Mongolia going back to UB I opted to ride the 1300kms back to Omsk to the closest Kazakh Consulate. It drizzled for nearly half of the trip and the ride was made doubly unpleasant by the massive number of trucks on the road. The helmet visor was constantly being blotted by road grime making visibility almost non-existent at times.
After having done 1400 kms in the two days, I stayed in a motel on the highway. It may go down to experience but Russians seemed to be more friendly and cooperative. The last 250 kms to Omsk was achieved in freezing conditions with the occasional drizzle thrown in to warm me up. I met a couple on a Honda Goldwing who had done 1135kms from Odessa in the Ukraine that day and were hoping to push on to Novosibirsk some 478 kms further east where I had just from. That is a lot of miles to cover on Russian roads.
I was 'fortunate' enough to be pulled over by the traffic nazi's when I arrived in Omsk. He was a small young guy who looked like he had not quite completed highschool. Nevertheless he was more interested in the Mule than making life difficult for me. In my best Russian (ie non-existent) I explained that I needed to find the Kazakh Embassy. He not only scribbled some directions but gave me a line on the Hotel Omck where I am shacked up with little Russia.
After making my debut at the Kazakh Consulate this morning it looks like a long and dreary wait for 5 days (ie 3 working days) before I can get my Kazakh visa renewed. The free time will at least allow me to fatten up on fresh food and pastries before heading south. Fresh food is so easy to find in Russian cities with lots of transportable boxes or stalls on every corner. It is incredible what they can stock in these boxes. And like every other service in Russia, their faces are hidden behind glass with a small sliding box that operates the money and goods transactions. All goods and services are paid for before they deliver. You must calculate how much fuel you need, pay for it then the bowser is turned on. To be frank Russians are not the friendliest folks in the world but it only takes a split second to smile at everyone, so I figure on one interaction an hour is OK with me.
With no maintenance required on the Mule at this point I am thankful that it has carried me 18,000 kms (or 11,000 Mlles for those still living in the dark ages). For the old adage that states that 'if you carry spares you will never need them' has worked for me. The Mule is 17 years old and still going strong. I believe that I am more than half way through the adventure now. The fact that the Eurasia 09 tour has gone so well gives me hope that the remainder will be even more enjoyable.