The reason is easy to find: the axle is bent, part of one bearing is pulverised. Here, in the middle of the woods, I have no means to repair that but at least manage to tighten the cone. This considerably improves the situation for a while.
It is the day of the way back towards Nishny. Smooth sailing almost all day long, more or less parallel to the river Volga (but never close enough to see it). Rolling hills, huge (former?) kolchoses, forests in between, a slight tailwind, no cloud in the sky, temperatures above 30 °C. To make things even better the road surface is mostly very good. That I still can hardly sit is a bit uncomfortable, but also not too bad. For lunch I get myself some food from a truly Soviet style shop: the two ladies at the desk do not care at all about me being present and refuse to interrupt their conversation. The choice is a bit limited but the little they have is neatly arranged. Since I do not want to buy years old Snickers bars and have not too many instant applications for basic gardening tools I end up with just some fruit and a loaf of bead. Picnic is a few kilometres later under supervision of the GAI. Typically Russian, they seem to ignore me, but sneak nevertheless every few minutes at me, less than 100 m away, eating my lunch under a mighty tree. I observe that it is slow going in an upper middle class western car in Russia. The GAI stop every single car of this category and search it while they let pass all the small Ladas and really big Mercedes'.
After the experience I already have I am a little afraid of this second bridge over the Volga but it turns out to be easy. One of the two lanes is closed due to road construction, there is alternate traffic on the remaining lane. This allows me to travel freely while the cars have to wait. Sure, police check the bridge, sure there is again the sign 'no bikes on bridge' and sure as well, nobody cares when I simply ignore this sign. The top of the bridge is high enough to let pass even the biggest Volga cruisers; from there you have finally a good view around. It is easy to see that the Volga is no longer a river but a chain of artificial lakes. Since these have been constructed in the 1930s, the river has become safer for ships and hydroelectric power can be produced. But it takes the water now 18 months to come from the headwaters to the mouth of the river compared to one month when it still could run freely - and the degree of pollution has certainly increased by at least the same factor.
On the other side of the river heavy industry is waiting for me. All the infernal traffic concentrates on a relatively small road. A strong wind blows clouds of sand and greasy smoke all over. It is terribly hot. I do hate it!!
Luckily the situation gets soon much better. I find some water to wash myself, a churchyard to escape from the noise and dust of the road comes like a windfall. A break in this oasis of peace is so refreshing that I carry on like new born. Everything is easier now, but still the traffic is dense enough and temperatures feel as high as in a sauna.
About 20 km before the city limits of Nishny I start looking for a good place to camp. It seems I am already too close to the city to find a quiet spot. After several successless attempts I finally follow the path underneath a powerline and get to a reasonable site. It is far from perfect but still acceptable. A pine forest seems to be the only kind of vegetation that can survive the entirely sandy soil combined with hot summers and fierce winters. In terms of shelter such a forest has not much to offer - but it is a paradise for all kinds of stinging insects. First I try to ignore them but soon it becomes unbearable and I have to escape into the tent. It is awfully hot there but better than among myriads of mosquitoes! I extrapolate to something like 200 bites on arms and legs. This i s a friendly welcome! The tent even serves as a repair shop for my bike. The situation with the front wheel had certainly not improved during today's 180 km and I still lack proper tools. One more emergency repair is possible. It feels weird when cycling (almost like having a flat tyre), but in the end I have no choice anyway.
Despite dirt and heat I fall asleep soon and wake up only to enjoy the freshness of the early morning.
Leaving my camp at six I arrive at the central bus station of Nishny Novgorod at eight o'clock. Once more I am more than lucky. Immediately I find a bus with a sign saying 'Moscow', find out the price for the ride and the departure time. It seems to me for a short while that Russian is not so difficult.
I have a few hours to kill before departure. A decent breakfast at the river Oka is a very good start. Next stop is at a bookstore. The remarkable thing about it is that I am addressed in German by a man who had seen me and my Bavarian flag at the bike. It turns out that he is German, living permanently in Nishny Novgorod since having been married to a Russian wife. Some hanging around in the parks, and excellent Russian ice-cream, then it is time to get on the bus.
There are not many people on the bus. It is a quiet ride on the so called 'Luxury Mercedes Coach'. The weather has changed. We pass through three thunderstorms and temperatures drop considerably, in fact far enough to make me switch from T-shirt and shorts to jeans and jacket. Looking at the main road now almost like a truck driver it seems to me even more like a miracle that I had survived the two first days of cycling. Two trucks completely use the available space on the road, there is certainly no room for a bike left. The busdriver is as crazy as all Russian drivers, overtaking virtually everywhere regardless the traffic situation. Several times I try to hit a not existing brake pedal or clamp myself into the seat to better absorb the immediate impact. Somehow nothing happens but I am more than happy when I can leave the bus in Moscow (I am just too much afraid of a car accident. Getting injured in a car is about the stupidest thing I can imagine. Being run over on a bike is one thing, shit happens, but ending up as canned meat on a smashed bus? No thanks!).
In Moscow it is really cold. I have no wish to spend a night on Moscow's streets or to give a fortune for a hotel. Luckily the 'Lonely Planet' recommends a youth hostel not far from the place where the bus drops us off. The hostel is excellent. It is an american-russian joint venture. For a reasonable price - in terms of Moscow, most expensive city of the world - you get a clean bed in a 6 persons' dormitory. I have the company of a Korean, an American, a French and a Danish guy. They all are not very talkative, but from the little they say I learn that we all share some common experience: mind blowing bureaucracy, not existing service (I say this as a German!), skyrocketing prices in Moscow and the usual small travelling events. When we all try to have some tea in the kitchen, staff cannot find us the key. It remains lost until the next morning. I do not mention this in order to complain but to give a little example of how service can be in Russia (it does certainly not necessarily have to be like that).
The other morning I have to sort a few things out. Being on a cycling holiday I have no wish to stay in Moscow. Fortunately the Leningrad railway station is not far from the hostel. It is not so easy for a greenhorn tourist like me to buy a ticket for a person and a bike, but after only two hours of useless queuing I finally find myself at the correct counter and soon own a ticket to Petrozavodsk, the Karelian capital, for the evening train the same day.
Buying a ticket as a foreigner in Moscow's Leningrad station works as follows: find out what train you want. This is actually rather easy since timetables are posted everywhere. To read and understand them is also no major problem if you are able to decipher Cyrillic and have a dictionary handy (or ideally speak Russian well enough). With this information you have to go to the 'intourist' counter. Do not expect anybody to speak anything but Russian. This counter is designed only for foreigners but the clerk does not bother with helping you a little by speaking slowly or writing down numbers. Why are you in Russia if you do not know the language? Tough! The prices for foreigners' tickets are considerably higher than those for Russians and can exceed fares of western Europe. You have no chance to escape this dual pricing system even if you speak Russian fluently of if you have some Russian friends buying tickets for you. At some stage you will be asked to show your passport and fined if you do not have the right ticket - at least this is what I was told. One justification for the high foreigners' prices is that they did not contribute with their tax money to built the infrastructure. For me it is robbery: in the end it is the foreigners who bring a considerable amount of money into the country. Concerning the bike I am sent to the 'luggage-and-other-problems' counter, this time no special treatment for foreigners. Luckily the young Russian lady behind me in the line knows some English and can negotiate with the clerk otherwise I would have been lost. It turns out that I do not have to buy the ticket for the bike in advance but that this has to be done later on the train. By the way, the same ticketing system holds for boats as well.
My train is leaving at 6 p.m. so I have some hours in the Russian capital. Have you ever been to Paris, London, Rome, Berlin, Copenhagen, Vienna or any other so called big city? Forget it. Moscow is the r e a l big city and like another planet compared to rural Russia. Everything is gigantic. Ten lane highways within the city are common and the traffic is crazier than ever. Unexpected for me is that everything I see is in an excellent shape, not like in Nishny where I liked the atmosphere but considerable parts of the city looked more like ready to be torn down than still inhabited places (and the same is true even for St. Peterburg once you leave the main tourist attractions). Several storeys high advertisements for American cigarettes reflect the new, at least temporary, Russian style of life. It is Sunday but all shops are open. The choice is as in every western city or better only the prices are higher. How can the Russians survive without financially breaking down? O world full of miracles.
I wander around without any fixed schedule, attend part of an orthodox service, am addressed several times in Russian for the way or something, but never for money. Do I look so Russian already??? In the early afternoon I return to the hostel to get my bike and stuff and come to the station just in time for a coffee and a look around at the 'kioski' before departing for Karelia.
I have no problems with the bike on the train. It only costs half the price of my already f... expensive ticket. The cars are clean and comfortable sleepers. I share my compartment with a young couple, it could not be better. The two of them speak a little English and help me communicate with the conductor. Of course, the sleeper costs extra (this train has only got sleepers), but it is the same price for Russians and foreigners.
After a quiet night we arrive exactly on time at nine o'clock at our final destination Petrozavodsk. Two people work in the luggage car and they had nothing to do all night long than to watch my bike. This explains the high price! They are extraordinary friendly, especially taking into account that they have to deal with me on official terms and not privately. On arrival, they try to have some small talk and help to get all my gear to the main hall. I am impressed.
The Petrosavodsk weather is not inviting for cycling. The thermometer at the station reads 6 °C, it is raining and stormy. I try to have breakfast at the lakefront but it is so cold without shelter from the wind that I am freezing and prefer to set out immediately to warm up on the bike.
My plan is to ride around the lake Onega, second biggest lake in Europe. This should take me about five days, giving me enough time to come to Finland within the timelimit stated on my visa.
The whole day I follow the Murmansk highway. |
