The Pan-Eurasian Bike Trip

The first ten minutes on a fully loaded bike, at least for me, are the toughest the soreness is slowly breaking off your body, and your arms are readjusting to steering your "hog".  In our case it is also usually the period where one surveys the situation (we of course rarely have any idea as to what the weather is going to be...Idiots) "how is the wind?", "Am I cold? should I shed a layer or put on my jacket" "Is that little pain in my knee going to be here all day or is it just a passing tingle?" "What is that thing on the back of Levi's shirt?" and of course the most popular one "What am I doing out here, where the hell am I?" which is usually followed quickly by "how long until the next cookie break?".  It is then an hour and a half of the road, sometimes it is really easy, a calm cool morning on the open flats of Russia can be a real treat, watching the marshland fly by(I use the term loosely). A few small mountains or hills can't hurt either, they warm you up and speed the transformation from sore muscles to numb ones.    But this is not the way it has been lately, instead it has been one of two things, or the two combined. Usually we climb that first hill or turn that first corner and there it is, offroad.  From Khabarovsk to Blagoveshchensk there has been one overwhelming sensation, the sense of being jostled to exhaustion by 20-30-40 k of offroad a day, now I know it doesn't sound good from two guys about to do 800 k of offroad, but keep in mind that is one solid section, which we have been told about.  There is little more frustrating than planning out your day and turning the corner to hit a massive section of offroad (it is amazing how slow one goes offroad on a road bike).  Of course there is one thing that does really get us even worse than our friend the offroad, our pal the wind (both of these daily features of our lives have been personified by us, they are cousins and they love to cause us frustration, the wind has a very high pitched whiny voice and the offroad has a rather gravely voice). "Hello!!! ah it is my  American friends, you have come back again?!!? Okay let's play!!! Perhaps you want head wind?!?And just when you get used to it I will switch to side wind and blow you right off the side of the road hahahaha silly Americans? Still want to come all the way to Porto?? Have you heard what I do on the Plains?" "Hey fellas, I bet you thought the wind was bad, heheehe, check out what I can do with these big tennisball size rocks, I can actually fling them at you when trucks pass by. Oh whats that a little dust in your eye?? here let me help you I can put some in your lungs instead if you prefer.  Have you tried my soft sand? It is particularly good here around China. Oh boy guys I am so excited to see you all the way to Chita, we are going to have some special times on MY 800k, hope you aren't planning on bringing those bikes with you..." That is just a small insight into the mild daily insanity that goes on when 2 guys are bicycling and high on endorphins and sugar all day.

After the first hour and a half comes the first cookie break, Russia has a couple of glaring flaws one of which is it's obsession with cookies, the local stores contain almost entirely just cookies.  I think the problem is really that everyone in these small villages grows there own food and is mostly self sufficient, therefore the stores contain mostly booze and 50-60 different varieties of cookies, oatmeal, jam filled, chocolate dipped, white chocolate dipped, chocolate covered marshmellow graham crackery ones. Riding all morning and walking into one of these stores can be habit forming, we now consume at least one package of cookies a day, often two, and I wouldn't say a third would be out of the question.  The first break is my favorite, right around noon, you are really starting to warm up and feel good, you eat a few cookies, pound down some water, this is the first break in the usual morning silence, not that we don't speak earlier, but it isn't the giddy, silly I've been bicycling for hours kind of banter that often leads to tears streaming down ones face because you are laughing so hard.    Another hour and a half goes by, now you are on automatic hopefully, unless the conditions are really bad (not really that uncommon). The second stop might be at a convenience store or it might be at a cafe, or perhaps just a shady spot on the side of the road (our new favorite is bus stops, which here, even in the middle of nowhere are little shacks which are great for breaking the winds and a good spot for shade) . It is usually the second stop where the delays start, maybe it is that extra bliny at the end of lunch, or we meet someone who wants to talk, one time we were simply surrounded by drunks who insisted on getting our autographs, then they insisted on giving us there autographs, we only managed to escape this cycle when one of them came out of the village shop with a shocking revelation, "You can buy rubbing alcohol in here for only 40 rubles!!!" "can you drink that?"  someone asked. A quick debate ensued, which was ended by the eldest drunk taking the rubbing alcohol and pouring some of it into his half gone 2 liter of beer.  They all tasted the new drink and nodded in approval.  Problem solved, just dilute it, they completly forgot about us and proceeded to buy the store out of rubbing alcohol then and there, lest someone else in the town get a cut overnight.

Eventually you get going again, after a few more rounds of cookie breaks and mid afternoon doldrums, where the body begins to tire of spinning pedals, that is when things get really bad, we start getting out of control.  Jokes start flying back and forth, we start screaming and yelling, distorting songs, yelling about how out of control it is, one of our favorite things to do is mimic the people who stop inevitably every few hours to ask us where are we from, where are we going and where did we start. Unfortunately for the Russian language, these three things are almost impossible to differentiate, where are you from is "otkuda??" where are you going is "Kuda" and where did you start is "Otkuda". Brilliant. Every few minutes someone slows down and starts yelling "kuda!!!!!" or "Otkuda!!!!" in a very demanding way, to which at first we used to try and figure out which of the three they were saying, but after being yelled at about fifty times without any result (they yell it like a military sargent would a command not a question "OTKUDA!!!") now we just reply either Vladivostok, America, or Portugalia, so somewhere out there there are many Russians who think two guys from Portugal are riding from America to Vladivostok or vice versa. 

  Eventually comes the homeward stretch, it is getting late even here maybe 8 or 9 (the sun goes down around 930 now) and your legs begin to resemble jello as they flop up and down on the pedals.  Perhaps we are riding to a town big enough for a hotel, or perhaps and more likely it is a small town where we hope to be allowed to camp behind the local cafe, or maybe just a dot on the map that we deem far enough for the day.  It is all dictated by the road, and our pals offroad and windy. Sometimes you find yourself stuck on a bluff eating potato chip sandwiches as the sun goes down, othertimes over eating and wowing the cooks in the local cafe before you pull your sleeping bag out and curl up under the table for the night. The only thing that is for certain is that, that first moment is the sweetest, you've ditched your bike shorts pulled out the pajamas (i.e. one of two pairs of underwear you have) and stretched out your toes under the covers or in the sleeping bag. It is heaven, showered or not. You only wish you hadn't ridden till 9 and it wasn't eleven, only 7 hours of this bliss... perhaps we'll sleep til 8. ellski