So, Darkhan is behind
2006 год (Китай–Лаос–Вьетнам–Мьянма–Таиланд–Малайзия–Индонезия–Австралия–Новая Зеландия–Австралия–Япония–Корея–Россия (Владивосток)–Монголия–Россия)
So Darhan behind. I won’t have to get out of Mongolia today. It’s getting late, you need to have time, at least, to reach Sukhbaatar. And to go still almost 200 kilometers! Ahead of the black clouds, at least not to be caught in the rain! After all, all the way more than any civilization not. After 70 kilometers, on my way stood a bunch of sheep that crossed the road. I decided to photograph them, and reached into the side bag for my camera. Has not kept a motorcycle and with it fell the middle of the road. And funny and sad. Something I often began to drop. Motorcycle world trip, which I planned for 2 months already passed for 4 months. I guess I have to tune again for the next two weeks, and finish worthy of the 4th stage.
Approached the shepherd, who grazes sheep, and we tried to raise the bike. Not here. Half an hour of exercise had to wait, when anyone arrives and will help put my horse back on its feet.
So it is, once again fell under the rain (and as well as in Thailand, nervously looking where to hide from the rain and where to spend the night) . We can say blindly drove 15 miles and stopped at the village Boudi. Pulled up to some boiler room. Asked the Mongols to let me in for the night. Through the village he walked, and I followed him to his house. I thought he was gonna take me home, and he led me to the trailer and he showed me that I could be here. In General, he was given in the mud, like a drifter.
They have neither roads nor sidewalks in the village. But the store is open around the clock. Took out dry clothes, changed your clothes. Went to the store, bought bread, sausages. Had a snack and fell asleep, as the murdered.
In the morning the sun came out and began to dry his clothing. Children, men supposedly from where there was this miracle on the bike with the Kazakhstan and Mongolian flags gathered. Called the boundary of his friend, the Colonel Timorin and said that soon I will be on his border, and he to me shouts that they entire family was watching me through two channels of the Mongolian television and are proud of our friendship. Nice guy.
In the afternoon I was already in Sochi. He helped me to quickly pass the border, said goodbye as old friends, invited him to visit Kazakhstan. And here it is again Russia.
When I passed the border I had 2,000 rubles (thought enough to drive to Ulan-Ude, and then withdraw money at the ATM). So customs charged me 1900 roubles for the insurance on the bike and I was left without money. In addition to all today Sunday and to where any money is impossible. Panic! The gas tank is empty. As luck would have sucked in the stomach, apparently nervous I wanted to eat. To Ulan-Ude to travel 250 kilometers. Rummaged through the pockets harvested 4000 tug, which I prepared for my son DIMA (he collects foreign currency), it is exactly 100 rubles, that is, 5 liters of gasoline. What to do? I went to the market in Kyakhta. Began to chat with the men, quietly explained my problem. One guy sold our Kazakh stone (lash) for 350 rubles.Super, now should be enough.
First bought a carton of milk and a loaf of bread, and the rest filled with gasoline motorcycle. All road went and looked at the scoreboard, the level of gasoline. Kilometers through 100 stopped near the peasants who worked in the Hayfield. Decided to talk to them and at the same time feel in their shoes. You know, it worked. I quickly mastered the braid and almost together with the man threw the car hay. Actually, I appear to be not needed, and so they recognized me from a TV report on the Buryat TV.
Repeatedly stopped by in Ulan-Ude already as to itself home. Light gasoline is 30 kilometers were burning red. It was enough, and I remembered about hunger before the city. Drove again to the relatives of my friends. And they just came back from hunting (THEY HAD the opening of the HUNTING SEASON). I ate a whole wild duck under 100 grams of vodka. Rested well. Now there is only one road through Irkutsk, Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk, Omsk and home to Petropavlovsk (Kazakstan).
Now from Russia I already in any country (Mongolia) will not stop by any more, and straight home.
In the morning the friends took me to the highway, went to work, and I moved in the direction of Irkutsk. I think I’ll make it in a day. Only 700 kilometers. Fortunately, the weather did not disappoint. And bikers from Irkutsk lost me, they waited for me a week ago, and I turned to Mongolia.
Actually, it’s my friend’s idea of the Sine (that I met bikers in each city of Russia) and it had turned out. Thank him very much! Ahead began to be seen the sacred lake Baikal. The first time I so close to him, swam near the town of Baikalsk, together with the deliverers of machinery, in this amazingly clear water, but pretty cool. By the way, they were also in Japan and therefrom drive the car.
Broke up and went on. Then I started having problems with rubber. Constantly have to swap. Most importantly – I was afraid to ride a motorcycle on the lowered cylinders. Then all, the end of the, will need seek a new rubber. I remembered how the bikers – foreigners we have in Almaty scoured the city and were glad even second-hand rubber. I have already run out of gas cylinder repair tools. And here itself has created a problem with the cops. Literally just before the post of GAI, I have worked on the bike a police siren (not on purpose). The Sergeant jumped on the road and with some special pleasure stopped me. Well, as usual – documents, rights and permission to the siren. I say that I have a tape recorder, and turned the music on full blast. But it won’t. I once again got lucky. The commander who was sitting in the car recalled the Sergeant and gave the command to let me go. I still went to the elder and gave him our Kazakh skullcap. Generally go along the Baikal is amazingly beautiful and the air is heady, and the fish so tasty, not retell. 100 kilometers to Irkutsk in Slyudyanka, Baikal is over. Bikers called me and said they were waiting for me at the entrance to the city.
Hello, biker Petrukhin!
- Category : 2006
- Запись 1 : Из Алматы не на байке, а на самолете