Symbolya

At 20.00 we left Brasov, my hometown, after a short press conference.

We reach Vama Veche, recall some memories (it was already 18.00), eat at Mitocanu and (as we like the rain) decide to hit it.

We take a nice detour on a wavy empty road before Balcik, draw money in Balcik and the skies start to close in. We continue to Varna and there is a thunderstorm around us. We love the clouds and the dark sky. I take it as a sign of good will and ride on rain through Varna. It’s late by now so we stop, check and stay at the first motel on the way to Bourgas. It’s perfect.

I take the first fine from the Turkish Police (88kmh/70kmh, about 65Euros and 5 points), cross Istanbul at rushour (17-18) and hit it for Ankara.

Spent two days in Ankara at Dorian's apartment, right in the center of the city.

We visit Amasya and ride high on the oposite hill to get a stunning view and we continue to Tesova

We want to head to Ayvachick, across the Kackar mountains but the people in Tesova don’t seem to even want to show us the way. It’s dark by now and they make signs to the sky. Yeah, it’s gonna rain, we know .. but it’s not gonna be in the next hours.

They take us to the police station, we get Tunc on the phone and it seems that the policemen are not very aware on how to get across the mountains, what they can do .. is “show us on the map”. But what they can also do is arrange for accomodation for tonight in “The
Teacher’s House”. We leave Gnu and the helmets near the police station and in the next morning the same policeman was guarding them with the machine gun at his chest. Excellent QoS.

On the 7th of June we have briefly crossed Georgia. When we entered it, we felt it so very familiar, it was home some years ago. We know the drills, the people’s ways.

Back in Georgia... In the first 30 minutes that we entered Georgia, Cri was in a Lada filming and I had to ride standing into a village along with the rest of the weading. Yes, we were suddently guests, being kissed, hugged, given food and drinks; we had to get away fast because Luka was waiting for us in Tibilisi… but what welcoming people they were.

We experienced Georgian hospitality at it’s best, knowing Luka’s woderful family, we went that up to Kazbegi and than to the Russian Border (to see “Border Locked” and soldiers… well the relations between the 2 countries are not at their best right now).

So, we were into Azerbaijan now, after an 1 hour interview at the border regarding the Armenian visa (and if we’ve been or not in Karabach).

We stayed in Baku for 2 night, seen the places where the competition for the American oil started to come to Europe, the “excavation for oil” places and well, where “it all started” for a second start :).

We sailed in the evening and touched Turkmenistan ground the next day in the afternoon. The customs processings took 6 hours and I swear nobody was lazy there. It was just how it had to be. Very friendly and helpful people. Ther’s a curefew in Turkmenistan: you can’t drive outside cities after 22 (by some) or 23 (by others) o’clock…. so I had to pitch my tent (along with a Dragoman international team that came overlanding with an old Mercedes truck) in the parking lot of the Customs.

The next days were hot, very hot, I could realy feel I was in Asia now, the camels appeared and the dunes, and I’m on the Silk Road now and Gnu started spitting from time to time (well, it was hot so that’s ok).

I left quickly Turkmenistan with some un-honoured dinner and overnighting invitations … but I have a schedule to keep and i’m keeping it.

Samarkand, the capital or Timur, the most evocative city of the Silk Road. The first milestone for me in the trip was Baku and the second one is Samarkand. The next to come is Mongolia.

The odometer shows 8409km from the start. I was evaluating that we’ll do 20.000 at least. It’s gonna be more than that, possibly a lot more, but we (it’s me and Gnu now.. never completely alone) haven’t taken the straightest roads and detours have always been a pleasure. We are both in good shape, no sore bones, no signs of getting tired (but we try to be disciplined, take the right brakes, keep focused, turn the right screws, observe, plan and hit the angles when we see them).

So, after leaving Samarkand some darker clouds drew upon Gnu and me. She started boiling and on the night of 24 of June I was being pulled into Schymkent by an old Mazda, with 2 blond Russian girls waving hands and singing on top of it and a few other members of the Schymkent Adrenalin Biker’s Club inside. Well, that night I didn’t go to bed very early

… and in the next days Gnu’s engine was opened into pieces, water and oil circuts checked for contact (the radiator was full of mud, seemed to be antifreeze with oil), … the gasket was however intact, so we cleaned the water pump, cooling circuit, changed the cain to DID x-ring, changed the sprockets, changed the tires.

Gnu seemed in excellent shape and I left Schymkent on the evening of 28. What I had gained in these days was my “reconciliation with the Russian people”, a lot of knowledge of my bike, and … hmm.. it’s even hard to talk about friendship. I could say that these people spend hours after hours, after hours with me to help me out, without asking for any money, without knowing me before.

I rested in Almaty for two nights. Not much of a city - very, very expensive and bad services, too. Something like Roman or Targu Frumos in Romania. Then a short trip to Barnaul (Russia), meaning 1600 km in two days.

In Kazachstan they have the most curious policemen - where are u from? are u sure? are u married? where are u heading to? is this your bike? what’s it’s highest speed? Some of them even wanted to ride my Gnu. This was too much. I told them that Allah will cause a terrible accident to the men who will ride Gnu (except it’s owner).

I arrived in Barnaul late on the 2nd of July after crossing the Kazach/Russian border in the last hour before closing. I stayed there for the next day, enough to solder-fix my GPS again, to buy a rollbag (yes, made in Russia and excellent quality and decent price), taste some delicious Kwas and eat loads of icecream and soups.

I left Barnaul close to 9 in the evening and made it to Gorni-Altaisk, where I arrived at 1 in the night and had put my tent in a car dealer’s parking-lot. On the 4rd I crossed the Altai region and it is beautiful.

Than, on the 5th I intended to cross the border. No way. The soldiers were drunk, the border closed: “-try tomorrow; -tomorrow is sunday!; - rabota, rabota (it works, it works)” and the Mongolian consul in Bucharest tells me on the phone that there is unrest in Ulan Bator and a 4 days state of emergency is declared. Well, I have … hope.

Sunday, the 6th, I cross the border. With the help of 6 Russian Businessmen that sent their bikes by truck and themselves by helicopter and plan to have a good time riding for a few days in Western Mongolia.

It took no more than 6 kilometers of pure joy when Gnu started to wobble. I was in the 5th gear and looked at the GPS’s spedometer: 85. That was way to high for such a road. I shift down, pull the break and throttle for control at the same time but the wobbling trend continues. It just gets worst. In that moment I know it’s gonna happen. I’m wearing full gear but no gloves (I said to myself I will as soon as entering Mongolia, but it was so much easier to take photos without them, so I delayed the moment). I just wonder how it’s gonna end and how I should handle it better. The answer is fast: the body knows much better what to do in these moments, much better than you can consiously think, coordinate and act. And it does happen: I fly, I scratch the gravel with my hands and I see blood on my right one. I see a lot of sand and rocks in my helmet, where the chin is. I wonder how they got in here.

I was sleeping near yurta villages and having great experiences with those wonderful people.

It’s so very hard for me to describe Mongolia, and I’m afraid the photos won’t do to much better. You just have to be here, to see the sky, the clean air through which you can see so very far, the herds, the people.

Mongolia is a country where I will go back, buy horses, ride them around and than maybe into Russia.. and.. hmm.. I have a thought. There are so many trails crossing each other in the steppe.
If you would ask me which one to take, I would say: “Any”. None will probably take you to Roma, but Mongolia is just about riding, about the road, the time has so much less meaning than anywhere else.

Riding from Chita to Khabarovsk on what it called the “bone breaking Amure Highway”. Putin said in 2005 that in 2008 there will be a road across the “Shilka gap” but he’s going away and the road is just a trail of bumpy gravel with a lot of dust that gets mud in the often rains.

A “better part” of the road just finished, one man on the side of the road freneticaly waving the hands, what seemed to be “free fall, road ends”, deflated front tyre and thin rear brake pads; I thought I’ll go into so I leaned on a side (left since my right foot was already unhappy) and let it drop hopping both Gnu and me will stop before the precipice. We did; but there was no precipice; just the road going suddently 20deg down for 5m. Well, than there was the pain, a bit harder than in Mongolia, I was feeling I can’t breath, the waiving spectator staring at me, a couple of car trafficking men who were rushing to Chita, and Edvard and Sergey (the truck drivers that I’ve overtaken a couple of times during the morning). Yeah, again, I believe that no bone is broken and Gnu is in good shape but I don’t have strength in my left first, can’t pull the clutch (and if the right foot and arm are for pressing the brakes and you can live without brakes, well,… you can’t live without the clutch) and I can’t flex the biceps so no, I can’t drive. It’s been an hour now since the crush and the pain is almost the same so, hmmm.. what if something IS broken? Maybe not a bone but a ligament.

I know a truck ride it’s gonna go bad on Gnu but I decide to sacrifice her. So, Edvard, Serghey and 2 other truck drivers tied up Gnu directly on the back of Ed’s truck (they don’t have trailers, just returning their Freightlinners from Moscow). And yes, it got bad on Gnu. Unfortunately, not much to do than counting the damage. It was an extremely bumpy ride.

I had to spend some days in Vladivostok here to fix Gnu and myself.

I had cut the gyps on the evening of 27 and in the morning I rode Gnu for 250 km from Vladivostok to Zarubino. The arm hurt a bit (it still does), the road was not asphalt the whole way, I had no map, no GPS, and I felt free and right again, after a few days of recovery.

So different than the ones before, mountains, green, excellent people. I love it. I have to come back some other time for sure. Between rice “Nostalgia” drinks (Since 1992), spicy food, porcelain dools at the information desk, the ferry with karaoke rooms where you sleep on the floor, rice wine, Wendy Choi (the perfect person to deal with any shipping in Korea), a truck driver that was able to mimic anything and make you understand what he wants between his samurai screams, Seoul with his 25 millions inhabitants, between all these things there is the letting go of Asia feeling, striking so very hard. I know I will be back and I am looking forward for what lies ahead.

From Canada to Paris

Back in Europe. Heading back home in Romania.