Like in the Shashlik place the other day food is nice, but prices are fantastic. Poor Russia!
When I am walking my bike around downtown a man starts talking to me. It turns out that it is Boris, head of the local bicycle club. What a coincidence! I tell him my problems with the front hub. No chance to find spare parts here, he says, but he promises to ask his friends if they can do something for me and suggests I should call him in the evening.
For a place to stay I follow again the 'Lonely Planet'. It recommends the hotel Severnaja. The place is okay. 60 rubles for the room, four rubles for the showers and five rubles for the bike. As stated in the guide, they do have the arguably hardest loo-paper in Russia (it looks like ordinary A4 writing paper cut in four). The rooms are clean and the staff is friendly enough.
I pass a lazy afternoon, walking around, enjoying the atmosphere. It is a beautiful town. What I like very much is that virtually everybody is sitting outside with a bottle of beer, certainly a side effect of the large student community. Even when it starts raining later on, people seem not to be very much concerned about it. Marx and Lenin are still omnipresent, but the locals have chosen to ignore them, and that is probably the best they can do. The boulevards are wide, the houses in the centre seem to me mostly dating from the turn of the century, well maintained and skilfully decorated. Yes, it is an agreeable town! By the way, they even have a Ben and Jerry's ice-cream parlour. It is the only one in Russia, and their production is as good as in the States, only less (!!!) expensive.
In the evening Boris picks me up to visit his friend Volodia. So I need my bike after the official working hours of the hotel's locker room. I have no success to get it out; in fact, it requires all persuasive skills of Boris to convince the hotel staff to make an exception... welcome back good old times! Volodia's flat serves also as bicycle repair shop. His skills are impressive. It seems he is capable of repairing everything concerning bikes; carefully he straightens my axle, adds new balls for the bearings, replaces the cone. While he is busy Boris shows me some pictures of their bike adventures. It is some relief for me that apparently Russians face the same difficulties as I do: roads leading to nowhere, missing bridges, swamps etc.
When everything is finished my new friends ask me for the price of my bike in Germany - and at the same time refuse any payment for what they have done for me. They do not even let me pay for the spare parts. I feel bad about it.
The other morning it turns out once more that I must be the luckiest guy in the world: it is raining cats and dogs and I have a room in a hotel. Finding a place for breakfast outside the hotel costs me a lot of time and soon it is the hour to get on the ferry to Kishy Island. I have decided to invest one day to go there since everybody had recommended it as the finest collection of wooden architecture you can imagine. To be exact it is not a ferry going to Kishy, but a kind of swimming rocket, a hydrofoil, the pride of soviet engineering.
For most tourists Kishy Island is the only reason to come to Petrosavodsk. It is impressive, but still, everything looks a bit artificial and the entrance fee for foreigners, including the boat trip, costs almost as much as two nights in a hotel. Also I must say that most villages in Karelia have similar houses to offer, only that these are still inhabited and that there is no entrance fee. I do not recommend to go to Kishy unless you want to see this particular collection of wooden buildings. However, for me the visit has a big advantage: I have culture and protection from the rain!
By the way, it is not easy to take bulky luggage such as a bike on such a hydrofoil. There is simply no room for it. In the end the crew lets me take my bike into the passengers' cabin. It goes without saying that the fare once more is astronomical.
Back at Petrosavodsk at five o'clock it is still cold but the rain has stopped and it even clears up a little bit. I get myself some more food for the road and set out towards Finland.
I have to take the road leading also to St Peterburg and, wide as it is, it really deserves the name highway. It seems to me that Volodia's repair job has changed my bike completely. I am flying without any effort and only the night stops me from carrying on and on. As usual I camp in the woods and feel much better than the night before in the hotel.
The next morning I have breakfast in the sleeping bag. That is what I do hate: to leave the warm and cosy sleeping bag when it is freezing outside or raining or, worst of all, both, and to pack all the gear. It always makes you feel like a homeless refugee for a while.
The whole day it is not getting much warmer. Whenever I stop I have to put on a few layers of extra cloths. It is Whit Sunday for the Catholics, but I doubt that it is the same in the Orthodox church. Nothing reminds of a holiday except the quietness of the villages, but these never seem to be very busy anyway. During my second breakfast I manage to have some conversation with two old men. This makes me feel for a little while like I could speak Russian.
One more day of cycling through forests. I am really desperate for some mountains and some free view! Still, somehow it is much more interesting this day. Twenty kilometres of road construction slow me down but give me the opportunity to compare again Russia and America. This time the Americans finish first. Here in Russia, the construction seems to be dominated by chaos and lack of willingness to get the work done (I apologise deeply if I was fooled by some misleading impressions).
There are two junctions in the middle of nowhere where my map is luckily precise enough, since there is nothing else I could use for orientation. Unfortunately it is also correct that the map does not show any villages. Being very low on food I could do with a shop of any kind. When I finally find one they are sold out of almost everything in terms of food including bread, only some apples of Italian origin are left.
In the late afternoon I make it just before a thunderstorm to a middle sized village. They have an old style government owned food store and two private ones. All of them are not very well stocked but have more than enough to satisfy a hungry cyclist.
I shop and eat until the rain stops. Then I carry on and pitch my tent at the bank of the lake Ladoga, said to be biggest lake in Europe, only one hour later. It is an especially nice spot I have picked this night but so freezing cold that I have to seek shelter in my sleeping bag almost immediately.
Early the next morning I am off to Finland. The road is brand-new and, as I learn only a few hours later, built by the Finnish. Nothing indicates that it is heading out of Russia only and nowhere else. Yes, they do not help you much to find your way around, the Russians.
The procedure of crossing the border is straight forward. Fill out your customs declaration, show your passport and visa. My passport is investigated for about ten minutes, than I am allowed to leave the country. No check of luggage, no problems of any kind, but also no friendly word.
FINLAND. The only country in the world I know where the border guards are really friendly. They teach me a few words in Finnish and ask about my trip in Russia and my plans for Finland. Presumably it was more than smalltalk, but to me it seemed like conversation among old friends, not like official investigation.
As far as the weather is concerned Finland offers everything but a warm welcome. It is raining at four degrees. But where is the problem if you can find a petrol station with a cosy cafeteria every few kilometres to warm up if necessary? Travelling in Scandinavian countries is so incredibly easy (especially if you come from Russia): excellent roads (even the gravel ones), helpful and accurate roadsigns, perfect infrastructure, a population of experts in foreign languages - what else could you ask for?
I take it very easy for the rest of the day. A coffee here, some window-shopping there, some 50 km of cycling. I decide to profit from the excellent campgrounds for the remaining five days of my trip. This first evening I am the only guest at the Karlavan Kievari campground. It is beautifully situated at one of the uncountable lakes. I have picnic in a sauna hut (of course, it is not operating, except for the showers that I greatly appreciate) with a perfect view over the lake.
The next day starts with some wonderful cycling. Tailwind and a small winding road lead me 66 kilometres to Savolinna. It is the setting that you like here, not so much the city itself. There is a famous castle, once upon a time forefront against the wild east, there are a few historic buildings, a few of the typical tourist attractions, all in all a nice but unspectacular place. Lunch at the harbour is short since the rain starts again. I kill some time in a few shops waiting for the rain to stop. After two hours I decide to carry on. If you are afraid of the rain, you should better not cycle in northern countries! Well, this decision is not very glorious. It is 80 km to the nearest campground and raining hard all the time. When I finally arrive I feel wet through and through. Ironically the rain stops immediately after my arrival. Luckily the staff is friendly enough to let my dry my cloths over night in the restaurant.
Although far from being really dry I decide the next morning to wear the same wet cloths again to keep some dry ones as a reserve for the worst case. Breakfast at the campground is excellent with porridge, eggs, yoghurt, bread and makes me forget the unpleasant feeling of being dressed in wetness. When I leave the campsite the owner's German Shepherd follows me for about half an hour as a friendly companion.
The morning ride to Riistina is similar to the ride the day before: lakes, hills, forests, a small road, not too cold but also not sunny.
Riistina itself has not much to offer. there is a supermarket - for lunch - and a bar - for a coffee afterwards. In the early afternoon the sun comes out, how pleasant!
As usual I am very lucky with the campground I find for the night. The management does not know English, but they let me camp and profit from the excellent showers and the nice kitchen cabins. Some bike maintenance is more than necessary: a broken spoke needs replacement, the rear rim is worn through and therefore slightly bended. It is still no problem to ride it, but I try not to use the rear brakes any more. The right pedal has a lot of play due to a damaged bearing. I decide to replace it with the spare I am carrying. Some oil refreshes all moving parts.
Perhaps I should not say so, but all cyclists will understand: the highlight of the next day is clearly the lunch! I have bread of a quality that even dwarfs the already magnificent Russian production and the roast pork, fresh from the butcher's, deserves a poem. Unfortunately I do not know very well to rime. This trip turns more and more into a 'Best of Scandinavian Food' week.
This is also the first really warm day since Nishny Novgorod. How enjoyable it is to be warm from the very morning! Only in the afternoon, when I am just comfortably cruising along, a little shower tries to cool me down. The unpleasant thing about this particular rain is one of its side effects. The already pretty worn chain is finally killed by the wet sand sticking to it. A broken chain is not difficult to repair, but it feels as if a lot of repair jobs had to be done during the last 24 hours. It reminds me strongly that cycling in Russia is one of the most interesting ways to mistreat a bike.
This night's campground has a special attraction. They have many pets there, among these and most admired by everybody are certainly the goats. It is simply too entertaining to watch these guys and the children playing with them when relaxing in the evening sun.
Although situated at a lakefront I once more miss my chance to go for a swim. I am too afraid of the nine degrees water with the showers locked for the night and me wanting an early start.
This last day of cycling is again wonderful. The weather and the roads are just perfect. I cannot believe that it is the last day for this trip. In the early afternoon I arrive at the Helsinki campground. It is completely new made, certainly worth a visit. Still, since it is not yet tourist season, it is a quiet place.
What is left of the day I spend in Scandinavia's biggest shopping centre. No comments.
While it had been easy to find the campground, it takes me quite a while to make it from there to the city centre the next morning. It is the usual problem of cycling in a big city: how to avoid the big roads and nevertheless come within a reasonable time to where you want to be. Again, every cyclist will understand.
Finally I make it. My job is to organise some box for the bike for the air transport back home and to find out how to come to the airport. Both are easy tasks so I end up with half a free day in Helsinki. No, it is not exactly free. Somehow I am chained to the bike and therefore limited to only a few activities. I do not do much but visiting a seafood market at the harbour and loitering in the parks, reading and checking the bike. Yes, it will definitely need quit a few new parts.
Generally my impression of Helsinki is only positive, a friendly city that deserves another visit.
The last night I spend at the waiting area of the airport before I fly out at seven in the morning.
There is only one more bit of cycling left, 100 kilometres from Lyon to Grenoble. This is surprisingly difficult. The headwind, broken bearings in the headset as well as the additional luggage with all the souvenirs slow me down a lot and the feeling of 'soon back to normal' does not increase my speed either.
So what about a conclusion? Russia is great, but a little difficult to cycle if you are in a rush or do not want to take the main roads. People, on the other hand, are very friendly, but you should speak Russian much more than the very basics I know.
Finland, sure is a western European country, and when you are used to western lifestyle it is like coming to paradise after Russia. I would never recommend to go to Finland first and then to Russia.
It turned out again that cycling is the best way to get around in every country - if you are ready to accept some imperfections and do not mind dealing with a wide choice of little daily problems.
Grenoble, Sept. 19, 1998
1 DM = 3,15 rub
1 $ = 6.05 rub (May 1998)
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