Vladivostok to Ulaanbaatar
Sat in the van all day the 22nd waiting to get the plates. One time about midday I saw a guy drive up in a van and head toward the front door of The Jing Long, with what looked like a FedEx envelope. This was looking good. Baled out of the van and went into the lobby thinking the best. Nobody around except the receptionist. Asked about FedEx and she shakes her head no. Dejectedly walked back to the Siberian Flyer to wait some more. No other action all the rest of the day. Not good. That night I got to thinking, what if the content description said License Plates and these got stolen too?
The next morning I headed to the Internet Post Office and checked the FedEx tracking site. It said the package was delivered the day before at 12:00 noon and was signed for by a Vadim. I had checked, in the morning, the day before, and it still said “In Transit”.
Feverishly headed back to the Jing Long and talked to the receptionist she, claimed there was no package delivered for me the day before. This was looking real bad. Then I asked if there was a Vadim there, and she points to the restaurant. Went in and there was a guy and girl sitting at a table going over some accounts. Asked for Vadim and he said that was him. Asked about a FedEx package, after hesitating a bit, he points to a table with my FedEx package opened with everything scattered across the table. I think I was real close to losing them too. How many gringos were sitting out in the parking lot waiting for American license plates? The package was clearly not addressed to him so he must have been trying to decide whether make a buck off them. Could have been another explanation but don’t see what it could be.
Oh
After Jack got my last newsletter, he emails me and says he heard they sometimes stole foreign license plates so he had Pop Riveted his on. NOW he tells me.
Decided to keep the second plate as a spare, in the locker, and put the other new one on the back. Riveted the hell out of everything. They could still get it off, but it’ll take lots more effort. Marisol said one day, from the bus, she saw a Minnesota License plate on the front of a Russian car. Bet I know where that came from.
Vladivostok is basically gridlock all day long. Took about an hour to get the first three miles. When we hit the first Police stop, of course we get pulled over. Bunch of nice guys. Marisol goes for a photo, and the first one says no way, and points into the clubhouse. Took a while for her to come out so I went looking for her. When I poked my head in the door she had a bunch of them all lined up and was snapping away.
Outside one of the guys kept saying Scorpions, Scorpions. I couldn’t figure out what this was all about. Then it dawned on me; I had seen a Scorpion’s BAND poster on a wall downtown. Also Alice Cooper. I thought it was for some other town, but apparently the Scorpions were coming to Vlad in a coupla days.
A Real Grind
Later on, on the first day of driving, this loud grinding noise starts on deceleration. Figured it must be the carrier bearing and I had a spare along. It was raining and have never seen one of them go ballistic so waited till we stopped for the evening to pull things apart. The bearing had slid out of the rubber cause the rubber was in pretty bad shape. No way I could pound the bearing off though.
Next day found a shop that had a press and after lots of charading, I took the shaft off and handed it to a kid to do pressing matters. I wanted to take it off and put it back on myself, as I’ve learned to never ever ever let others screw with my stuff. The kid stood around watching me so I figured they’d want to charge me for his time. When she gave me the bill it was for 150R, five bucks. More nice Russians. Lots of smiles and waves as we left.
When we headed up the road, later that day, a police guy comes out and flags us down at a bus crosswalk. He has a radar gun and shows me that it said 73. I guess you’re supposed to slow down to 60 kph there. I don’t think we were going 73, but when I handed him my International Drivers License he asked if we were tourists, when I said yes, he hands it back and says, “Have a nice day.” Lots of radar around, bet we saw as many as five of them going north.
We pressed on till Khabarovsk, it looked pretty easy to hit the right road on the map. Turns out that wasn’t the case. We kept stopping and asking directions and the people didn’t seem to know either. Finally one guy pulls out a map and starts showing me all these turns. I looked real confused so he heads toward his car and motions us to follow him. We drove maybe twenty minutes hitting turn after turn; it would have taken us an hour to get through there. Name was Mikhail, another nice Russian.
Road Tech
There’s lotsa road construction going on between Vladivostok and Chita. Pretty much all the roadbed and interchanges are done. All that’s needed is the asphalt. They’re working 24/7. Several guys I talked to said it’s scheduled to be all tarmac by the end of 2010. I predict 2011 but at the rate they’re going, they may be right. We had lots of new asphalt, which was actually smooth. The worst section was the dirt parts just before Chita. It was sections that hadn’t had any new work done, and why grade a dirt road? so lots of washboard. Don’t think any of it was as bad as Ruta 40 in Patagonia though. This I could go about twenty but down there I couldn’t get over fifteen.
A lot of new gas stations are also being built along with new restaurants and motels. Looks like they’re figuring, when the road is all asphalt, there’ll be lots more traffic. The drive so far has been much more scenic than I expected. Rolly hills with neat valleys, when we passed through, were in full bloom with wild flowers. Some valleys would be white and then maybe an orange one and sometimes mixed. I expected it to be all flat with not much more than a few trees. Great drive.
There were several different road building technologies going on at the same time. They’ve imported basically Mexican roads, fortunately not Brazilian or Chilean. There are crews out patching potholes. Some of the new tarmac is just the one-inch thick stuff with similar results to Mexico. They were already patching potholes and they’re still putting down new asphalt on the same section. Don’t think this stuff has much of a future. But one place they were doing something different than I had ever seen. They first put down about four inches of what looks like compressed sand. It must have cement in it because it hardens. First technology must have been then to put about one inch of asphalt on top of this. It’s all coming off though. What must be the NEW technology is to put about four inches of hot batch on top. This, in my opinion, should do the trick.
Drivers are quite tranquilo in Russia. They stop at stoplights, they stop for crosswalks, there’s virtually no horn bleating, they let you merge and change lanes if necessary, let cars into lines. All of this doesn’t apply to cars clearly marked with the letters T-A-X-I. Skumsuckers are the same the world over. Actually even they aren’t too bad in Russia.
No problems getting gas, lots of stations, many are open twenty-four hours. Odd thing is how you pay. You don’t see the teller and you have to pay in advance. They are behind one way glass and slide a trough out to you, where you put some money. Catholics might understand. Problem is water. Gas stations don’t have water and rare to find any public faucets. Always a struggle to get water and Marisol, of course, helps out and takes a shower like at home, which of course is what little princesses deserve. Maddening.
Off Base
About two hundred fifty Kms before Chita we pulled into a restaurant and figured to stay there for the night. We were there maybe a half-hour, when some people came over and started talking to us. They didn’t have much English but with the dictionary and one of the girl’s little English we got by. They then suggested we go park near their ‘house’. There was a carload of the dangerous age group guys hanging about. So I said “Why not?” and we took off following them. I understood it to by maybe twenty or so Kms from the restaurant. We drove for a ways and they stopped at a neat little rest area with a great view, so figured this must be the place.
Nope, we kept going and going, and finally it got dark, and we still keep going. Don’t like to drive after dark because you don’t get to see anything., you might as well sit in your garage and look at the dash. Lots cheaper.
Turns out we kept going right on past Chita for about thirty Kms. We pull into some east block apartments, like you see all over Russia. Must have one set of plans they build over and over and over. All look exactly the same. It was like two in the morning, by this time. Of course we had to go in, and have a drinkypoo or two. We’d been putting in long days because of the visa issue. Had to be to Mongolia by the seventh of July.
The next day Sergy took us into Chita so we could check it out. Really liked the old buildings and onion-domed church. New stuff I could live without. Hit a supper market on the way back to get provisions. The day after we got some propane and figured we’d head out the next morning. Back at the van I was putting in some water when a guy walks up and asks to see my papers. He had on a uniform so looked official. Showed him everything and he walks away. Comes back with three more guys. After a lots of Russian, I of course didn’t have a clue what was said, they say for me and Marisol to come with them.
Turns out we were on some unmarked military base and nobody but military was supposed to be there. Restricted Area is what they called it. Seemed to be taking this very serious, not much in the way of smiles, even when I asked when they were going to start pulling out my fingernails ? This was not good.
We were put in a conference room with two guards. After awhile some guys, that seemed to be way up the food chain, they had taller hats, come in and talk to us, they also trotted out an interpreter. No idea what was going to happen, but it was clear though this was considered pretty serious. I of course mentioned a sign or fence or guard, might be helpful. Or they could have just asked us to leave, when we first got there. All fell on deaf ears. Interpreter said, yah that made sense, but this was Russia, and everything didn’t always make sense, the locals knew better than go there.
We were first drug off about nine thirty in the evening and around midnight or one o’clock things were getting pretty boring. Morisol decided this was a good time to pull one of her five-year-old tantrums. Yelling and screaming and crying and cussing them out. Guess she figured on intimidating the Russian Army. She headed out into the hall and started yelling at everybody out there. Finally they drag her back into the room. Interpreter comes back in and says she figures that would cost us maybe four or five hours, if we were lucky, At least she didn’t say years.
Somewhere around three in the morning they take us to separate rooms. In comes several guys, with another interpreter. Ask me all sorts of questions. I mentioned, how could this be an Air Base as there was no runway. Silence.
Marisol figured the best way to help was get roaring drunk on the alcohol they offered her. Be pretty funny if they try to make any sense out of THAT info. Then they take me out to the van and ask to inspect it. There was the interpreter and maybe six guys. Lots of questions. Finally it was back to the clubhouse.
Then around five they take me to a room with a very drunk Marisol and a couple of very drunk Russians, who must have figured this is what’s known as opportunity, and might as well drink some of the free government booze. When the interpreter was about to leave she said, later in the morning, we would be taken to Immigration, in Chita. Still couldn’t get anybody to say what would happen.
Sat in there for a coupla more hours and finally they lead us out into the hall and said we could go sleep if we wanted. I thought they were kidding until they led us into a room with two beds. There were four guards posted outside.
Finally around noon the door opens and they said it was off to Chita. A hung over Marisol went in a car with flashing lights and I was following with another guard in the Siberian Flyer’s passenger seat. Still no idea what was going to happen.
At Immigration yet another interpreter and a scribe sit down with us. He writes out all our personal details and our Baseless Story and saying we agree to not go into any other restricted areas while we’re in Russia. Hey, it’s an adventure.
So finally it was off to Mongolia, only about seven or eight hours late. From Chita on, it was supposed to be all asphalt.
Odd Things
Russia is a BYOTP country. Virtually 100% no TP. Even the Jing Long public restrooms usually didn’t have TP. Toilets do flush though. So far haven’t had one that didn’t. Public toilets are usually the hole in the floor kind.
Many Russian bridges have what I assume are bridge guards. There are these little, what I assume are, bridge guard shacks. Talk about a boring job, sitting all day in a four by four shack watching cars and trucks drive across a bridge. Don’t have a clue why they would do this.
Jack mentioned he had tried to cross at Kyachta, which, from the map, is the obvious way one would take, but he had to go to a town west of there to cross. I decided to go to Kyakhta as the Immigration folks, at Chita, said go there. Turns out they’ve built a new border crossing there. I‘d rather be lucky than smart. We got a Mongolian visa for Marisol. US people don’t need a visa to stay ninety days or less.
Got burned by the visa lady. She managed to convince me that the Ruble had fallen so it was better to pay the 
70. A British bike tourer we talked to got burned by the same lady. He had gotten a visa before he left home but she convinced him he, for some reason, needed another. Took maybe a total of three hours to get all the paperwork sorted out.
On the way to Ulaanbaatar we headed over to an old (1700’s) Buddhist Monastery called Amarbayasgala. Had to do about 35kms of dirt track. Managed to make it most of the way with the Siberian Flyer. Sounded pretty neat and was well worth the drive. KTM’d the last bit and used it to tour around the area some to see some of the other shrines and such. one of the best in left in Mongolia. Burned almost a roll of film on the place, and that’s a lot for me.
Guess the communists destroyed about 30% of it, but that was a lot less than others in the country so it’s nice, a green rolly setting too.
Like usual, originally I was thinking of staying in Mongolia only long enough to get the Russian and maybe Kazakhstan visas sorted out, but after talking to some folks and doing some Book of Guide reading the thirty days that Marisol’s visa has, will not be near enough. The Mongolians, like the Russians have been incredibly friendly. Really nice folks.
Hopefully we can get up to a lake called KhovsGol Nuur, which is universally pronounced not to be missed. It’s supposed to be about 700Kms from here, only half of which are asphalted. Hey it’s an adventure.
Domestic Diss
Now that we’ve stopped talking to each other, things have greatly improved. Marisol never listens to anything I have to say anyway, other that trying to glean some tidbit that might allow her to do, or not do something with maximum annoyance. And, more than likely, what she has to say will be irrational gibberish anyway.
Sure hope our Military camping spot doesn’t screw us up getting another Russian Visa. Not sure how’d I ever get the Siberian Flyer home without going back into Russia. Hey it’s an adventure.
Till next time,
DZ
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