15.06.19
When I get up, I'm a bit crumpled and feel as if I've been run over by a train. Well, off to the border. The journey there was relatively easy, but entering Russia was a test of patience. We waited forever until we reached the first barrier, with hundreds of impatient Russians who would either walk over dead bodies or even eat small motorcyclists to get ahead faster. They're all sitting in their air-conditioned big cars and we're sitting in the blazing sun on our bikes.
Finally it's our turn, but today that means the first check point, writing down the vehicle number, you get a slip of paper, check point 2, queuing again and it almost bursts my bladder, because I drink litres of water from the heat and it doesn't evaporate as quickly as I thought.
Leaving the Ukraine, well, what does the customs officer want from me....richtisch....Bagschisch, they call it a souvenir. I give him 200 Leu in coins, which is about 10 centimes, he is not happy. He is luckier with Felix, who gives him 50 cents, yes, euros are much better.
100 metres further on, the Russian border, and we're looking at it again in the blazing sun. It's getting too hot for me, so I drive past the cars and stop right in front of the customs house, where they look a bit startled but don't react much. Only the Russians start to discuss why I am pushing in front of them. After a few attempts to explain about you climate car - I sweat until broken, I give up and start filling out the papers they want.
Passport control, vehicle control and then rewriting the vehicle documents. Since Felix has already driven through the border after the vehicle inspection, a somewhat hectic atmosphere arises. Everyone tells me to call and get him back, but I'm already in standby mode. I don't understand a thing !
As I don't follow Felix turns around and comes back, which means that we are allowed to pass everyone and with a little bribe we have the documents within 30 minutes. Ha, that was a piece of cake, only 4 hours for the border, I feel as if I had been locked up in the Swedish sauna for a day. We were told again and again that we should take out insurance for the motorbike right at the border, but I need the wind, so fuck it, let`s go.
We drive a while away from the border and look for accommodation, according to the sat nav we are right in front of it but they sell Pirelli tyres. I go to ask them, Felix is quite tired and doesn't want to go on. Indeed, this is a hotel, on the first floor.
Felix has the translator app and I can't get any further, so he has to try again. In the meantime, I am told where we can park the mopeds, in the garage directly behind the hotel, with its own entrance and nicely guarded. Well, the Russians also have a lot of
16.06.19
New day, new luck. We move on towards Belgorod - Dirty Old Town.
Wow, what we saw of this town can really be called: The wrong Side of Town. We went to a motorbike shop because I've been looking for a mirror since Romania, but unfortunately none that fits me. Instead, I meet a priest who is just buying a new number plate holder for his cross bike. He speaks a little German and we have a chat. Now I know two priests who ride cross bikes. Don Camillo and, how could it be otherwise, Igor.
We find a hostel and take a 4-bed room that we fortunately don't have to share with anyone, because there we find people who represent all the clichés of the Russians. Loud, drunk and pushy. Ok, we can stand it for one night, we crawl into the room and chill.
17.06.19
We leave at 8am, so as not to wake any Russians. We look for a breakfast café and an insurance office in another part of town. After two hours everything is done, we can set off and no one can piss on our legs.
We make good kilometres and the landscape becomes a little friendlier. Towards late afternoon we stop at a supermarket and I go shopping so that we can camp again. On the way, I've been wishing for a passenger who knows his way around Russia and might be able to show us a few nice things, but so far there's no sign of him.
By the time I get out of the supermarket, however, another motorbike that looks like it's been travelling is parked next to ours and Felix is talking to the driver. Oh dear universe, you have heard me.
Alex is the name of the good man who lives only 60 km from our current location and spontaneously invites us to his home. What a guy, quite tall, well-built and at first impression the temper of Baloo the Bear.
Alex the Iron Butt, 3 x 2000 kilometres in 24 students by motorbike. Whew, that's quite a feat.
At his home we are greeted by a white Pyrenean dog who happens to be called Baloo, what a coincidence, isn't it? We spend a wonderful evening outdoors with him, his family and his brother Sergij, with whom he does most of the motorbike touring. Alex cooks for us and I entertain them with the guitar. After dinner, we take a tour of the city by car and Alex explains everything to us. He is the CEO of the local agricultural university and is coming to Baden Württemberg next year. I promised him that we would meet then.
Alex the Iron Butt, a Man with such a big heart, thank you so much for everything !
18.06.19
6.30 a.m. Wake up and Alex already has breakfast ready, what a cool guy Eating outdoors again, of course, is already very warm. He insists on accompanying us to the outskirts of town, by motorbike of course. I ask him if he has to go to work, but he says Brotherhood comes first. What a warm and generous man, he gives us some tips on the way, hugs us twice and we pull away.
On the way, about half a kilometre ahead of us, a motorbike suddenly turns onto our road and speeds away. According to the scenery, it's also a traveller, but why doesn't it stop for a chat? Maybe he wants to get out of Russia as quickly as we do, Ha Ha.
After a while I see him off the road, but he is standing and his bike is on the ground. I turn around and go to him, Felix follows me.
A young Russian who has put his bike in the sand during a small turning manoeuvre. We join forces to get his brand new Honda Africa Twin back on its wheels. No harm done, only the 30 eggs he got from his grandma didn't survive. A so-called egg masquerade.
The landscape gets wider and wider and the eye can almost no longer see it.
After 320 km my Yami simply stops - it was too late to switch to reserve, all is well, pull up the lever, press the starter and the now familiar knocking is there again.
No longer in the mood for driving, it's time to look for a place to camp, which is quickly found with a beautiful view of the Volga.
Setting up tents, cooking and chilling, that's a good life.
