MONGOLIA
Well, as you no doubt noticed from another blog I had to enter Mongolia under my own steam with a broken down bike. I freewheeled down to a concrete apron where I waited for half an hour or so with a fuel truck and a family in an old YA3 (youaz) jeep while the husband and wife had an argument.
Eventually an old Lada bounces over the countryside and stops relatively close to me on the other side of the fence. He makes his way to where there's a break in the fence, wanders through and waves the drivers over to a fly filled cabin. Once inside it's obvious that he wants to charge for disinfecting the vehicles. Outside is a pit with a ramp in and out and a puddle of what looks like rainwater inside, regardless I hadn't gone through it because I didn't want to push the bike up the far side after freewheeling slowly down the hill. 30 roubles later I was in possession of a piece of paper and shortly afterwards was ushered through into the Mongolian border post.
After what must have been 45 minutes and a couple of minor charges that I forget the value of but mustn't have been more than a few pounds I was through following a brief passport control, obligatory costoms check with vehicle registration and my first health questionnaire of the trip. The lady behind the glass disinterestedly stamped and signed the form before Im off again.
Pushing the bike out of the border post I wait for Mr Disinfectant to return bearing assistance and eventually enter into another wee adventure but not before some guy and maybe his granddaughter claim about ten pounds from me for insurance.
The roads really are non existent. Following advice from my new found mechanic I've stayed on what I assume to be the main roads through the countryside from Olgii after I get the bike running again through to about 400km short of Ulaan Baatar where the road turns to Tarmac again.
Doing this has meant that I've been riding the roads travelled by buses and trucks along the length of the country. After meeting two guys in no mans land between the border posts they advised to stay on the northern or central route through the country because it's apparently far more interesting and less sandy. Although I hate riding in sand I figure that the southern route may have more chance of resembling some form of thoroughfare which will benefit my choice in doing the trip without GPS.
The roads themselves have resembled single track routes, bumpy rocky tracks, eight lane highways through dry fields and almost good quality packed surfaces for short spells. I've ridden over mountain passes, past beautiful lakes and through rivers. Some of the water has been at least three feet deep and totally soaked me while the sand has a given me a few frights. I've also had my time off the bike with one of the worst spells laying under the bike in mud.
I've occasionally seen police in cars, mainly Hyundai ones, there's been a few riding or standing beside Chinese 150cc bikes but mostly they seem to stand around. Meanwhile there's predictably a lot of 4x4 cars around, some Russian and a lot being Japanese with the Toyota Landcruiser being one of the more well represented ones. Perhaps the most frequent sight has been the sight of old Hyundai cars in various states of degradation and which seem to flex as they drive past.
Within Ulaanbaatar I only really seem to see police traffic cars which are all fairly new Hyundai Accent models although occasionally I see an old Furgan with some lights on the top of it though Im not sure if these are police. In town the driving is pretty poor and resembles the worst of what driving I have seen so far but merged with the most insane lack of patience. Given that, there's not as much horn blowing as you might expect but everyone tries to shoehorn into the tightest spot possible, pushing and squeezing everyone else out of the way before racing off as quickly as possible. What can be really frustrating is the way that a three lane part of road widens to four lanes to allow a left turn across traffic before some drivers squeeze to the front of the left three lanes and start indicating left. Theres only one lane to move into so it turns again to chaos. Meanwhile there's three lanes of traffic behind trying generally to move forward but can't because of the left turn palaver and they are all trying to squeeze into one lane and getting angry about it. All good fun to watch but you won't get anywhere quickly.
Roads wise, on the last 200km into Ulaanbaatar and the 350km or so to the Russian border the roads are reasonable tarred roads allowing good progress.
Which brings me onto the border itself.
I approach the border from a local town on the Mongolian side which allows me a pretty clear view over some fields into the first town in Russia that I'll see again. On the way up through the city there's a small Citroen car driven by three Finns that passes on the Mongol rally and I get into the border post without issue.
The first border point is a simple vehicle check and I'm passed up the road into the main border building where for an hour of almost constant movement Im passed from one person to another with at least half of these movements being at the whim of a general hand wave. Whilst everyone there is pretty relaxed I do get a bit hacked off with passing from side to side, inside and outside without any real idea what or where is next. I also find myself filling a form in at the request of one official, noticing some paperwork beside where I'm standing but as I'm not asked to fill anything else out I don't pay attention. This is until five minutes later when one person passes me to another, who passes me back to the desk with the form who then eventually says I need to fill another form.
My pointy elbows also get some fresh air because of the way us Brits like to queue versus the locals wish to barge through everything. Eventually my dirty looks, wide pointy elbows and decision to deal with no personal space allow me to get through the final passport stamp without issue.
There's also a final check of the passport which happens at every border crossing. Whereas every one I've had so far is a simple look and wave through I join a queue of traffic that just seems to sit there. After what seems like an eternity but is actually only ten minutes another official comes up to where I am, asks in English if my passport is stamped and simply tells me to go before moving to the next car to talk. I take no second prompt, jump onto the bike and squeeze past thinking as soon as I hit the Russian gate there's nothing anyone can do even if they change their minds.
For all it was a faff it only took an hour and I was back through to the efficient organization of the Russians.
RUSSIA (pt 2)
Russia, despite stories of bureaucracy and nightmare border crossings proves to be the exact opposite for me again. I've got myself up to the first border post where I'm given a form by a very professional lady then told to move up the hill a little. In the line for getting the passport stamped I fill In the immigration form I've just been given then walk to the front of the line of traffic where I deposit my stuff in a window only to be asked no questions and get my passport back a few minutes later all stamped up. The next part is the worst part and simply entails a thirty minute wait in line before another lady helps me fill in the customs form, takes a cursory look in my panniers and welcomes me to Russia. The whole process is friendly and simple, taking only an hour. I later however hear that some Polish guys take four hours getting through and have a bit of a nightmare, no idea how this all works out.
In the border post I get to see a couple of cars coming through for the Mongolian Rally only to be barked at by one of the guards to maintain separation of the entry and exit streams. Further on there's a chirpy guy waving enthusiastically as he drives his old ambulance toward me and I'm well into a series of roads over 4000km that are largely good quality with a few construction sites where you can be riding over hardcore rubble, gravel or torn up roads on the way past active construction vehicles as they try to build the road. At some points on the Amur highway you are maybe 15m above ground level as the way they build the roads is simply to dump gravel, hardcore etc onto the ground to build up a foundation above ground and grade the roads level for a final surface.
The other striking thing about the roads is the cars. In amongst a few older left hand drive cars and trucks are the right hand drive ones and maybe half of the traffic coming west is Japanese import cars on transit number plates. The number of right hand drive cars slowly increases as you go east til you get to Vladivostok and it's a small minority that are left hookers. This comes right down to the fact that most of the police cars are also right hand drive. It also makes for some interesting driving as the impatience many of the drivers have means they barrel along behind the car / bike / truck / van in front, swerve hard left to try and get a view of the road in front, swerve even harder back in again to avoid a collision with oncoming traffic then repeat until they get past. Amazingly my only experience of a Russian accident was about five feet in front of me as a pedestrian in Vladivostok when a car skidded into the side of another turning left across traffic.
Meanwhile my experience of the land is one of surprisingly little variety. Although it alternates between flat and hilly the landscape consists of birch forest or swamp in the main all the way over though the size of some of the rivers is hard to comprehend when coming only from a small country.
Suddenly it also seems that there is road signage again. From the almost absolute absence in Mongolia to the fairly clear signs in Russia it's a refreshing change although it falls down at intersections and also in towns. My experience in towns is that there's good clear signage of how to move toward Vladivostok apart from at a number of pretty key junctions and turn offs. It's a big thanks to my traveling partners GPS for getting through some cities with sanity.
On the way out of Russia I have a really easy time of it. Deciding not to sit in a stairway or small room with lots if other passengers I have a relaxed and comfy few hours waiting for anything to happen. When it does it takes no time at all to get through a cursory xray of my bag, then a passport stamp before I'm off. I was pointed in the direction of a customs agent when I bought my ferry ticket and didn't complain which I think was a good and clever way to sort the notorious Vladivostok customs out. For me I had a few hours accompanying the agent one day and another hour the next. It could have been a lot longer and a lot more stressful.
JAPAN
My second arrival in country by ferry brings me to a small town called Sakaiminato. Getting relatively close to the head of the line for coming off the ferry means I'm through customs and immigration in twenty minutes and it couldn't be easier but that's just for me. The bike is a different story and I have some traveling partners on bike also who give me some company over the next day and a half as we get the bikes through a customs check, sort some other customs paperwork out with the carnet, get the carnet authenticated at a town 30 - 40 kilometers away then arrange insurance. By 3pm on Saturday after arriving at 9am on the Friday we are free to leave on the bikes. For me this is by far the biggest faff border of the trip so far but at least everyone I deal with is terribly nice.
Freeing ourselves of the border we are now on local highways but given the high population density the vast majority of the roads are through some form of civilisation with limits set at 50kph. Its hard work getting through distances but at least the towns are very well signposted with English translations underneath each of the lines of Japanese writing.
Driving isn't particularly hard but mentally it is. There's a load of people on this small island and the hilly areas are largely kept clear which leads to the busy corridors which just drive you mad. At points the only way I could tell I was in a new town was the repetition of car garages.
Meanwhile the alternative is the expressway system which allows more steady travel but at a cost. The 400 odd kilometer trip from Sendai to Tokyo costing nearly 6500 yen which at an exchange rate of 130:1 sterling turned out pretty rich.
All the while though there were precious few police on the wander and the predictably safe Japanese driving style made for easy filtering even with bulky panniers. I did see a few red light cameras but these were always front facing which was a bonus even on a foreign registered bike as being at the back of a trail of bikes made for some choice red light action.
Exit from the country took no time at all. I left by plane and it was like any old airport border while the bike was just dropped at a packing warehouse to be processed when ready in my absence. All very easy but quite wrong to be away without the bike.
USA
LAX arrives after a pretty painless flight and getting past immigration was no trouble. Seattle even easier because it was a domestic flight. Once I arrived there were a couple of quiet nights in town and then onto the road in a big white Dodge Charger which lasted pretty well for a few days until someone drove into me. It then lasted pretty well until something seems to have happened with the transmission and then it's time for a Jetta.
There's been a strange mixture of stereotypes and clichés along the way with a few surprises. At the time of writing I'm down in the southern states and have stayed in some pretty small places in backwater old route 66 towns with huge plates of food served in places such as the 'Roadkill Cafe' where some of the helpful public information signs are no smoking alongside no firearms. Good to know. Yesterday I stayed in one motel where there were ten vehicles outside and half of them were big trucks.
Meanwhile the west coast route involved some crazy twisty little roads that at this time of year were pretty quiet though surprisingly foggy. The west coast being a good reason to have a Japanese or European bike while Route 66 is a fantastic reason to have a thumping old Harley, and most folks do.
Otherwise I'm no stranger to the US although this trip is giving me a different perspective. It's a big place with a lot of changes and contrasts although there's always plenty of signage, plenty of accommodation, plenty of food and plenty to see.
Location:E 3rd St,Winslow,United States
Just out of interest Martyn, have you washed your silver pants yet?
ReplyDeleteapparently, if you use them as a ban-danna for a couple of days they are good to go again!
ReplyDelete