Into Siberia, in Numbers

28 hours: total time of loading the vehicle on an old soviet style boat, crossing the Black sea from Turkey to Russia and clearing the most apathetic & inefficient border control in the Northern hemisphere. ...but we also met Jake, a New Yorker biker, who provided the best company in the most difficult part of our journey so far. Thanks Jake.

12 days: to make it on time to the concert of the Omsk Philharmonic in, surprisingly, Omsk.

3006 miles, 23 MPH average driving speed, 13,983 potholes, 981,000 tonnes of steel beasts coughing clouds of toxic fumes ahead and 1 vital discovery: it’s quicker to overtake up the hard shoulder.

Kazakhstan: a lot of nothing 

20 minutes: average driving time between been pulled over by the next police check in the Caspian Depression.

$100: maximum asking corruption fee

3^rd finger: our usual reply  

46 degrees Celsius: daily temperature in the Volga.

46 degrees Celsius #2: extreme temperature that is too bad for the brain, for the blood and for the beer.

319 mosquito bites: out of which 71 are on my legs, 3 in my left ear and 8 on my butt cheeks

1^st place: new entry to the top of the World Worst Roads to the Volga territory, Russia. Or put it simply, people of the Volga – you’re road system is worse than Albania’s; sucks to be you.

238 hours: straight without leaving this 2x4m tin box for more than 30 minutes.

0.000000001: the proximity of me going officially insane.

0 minutes shower: before we’ve made it to the concert hall in Omsk. Fragrant, but we’ve made it.

excellent seats

9 days in Kazakhstan: a lot of nothing, 3 tons of dust on the wind screen, 80 dual hump camels crossing the road, 2 punctures, 1 broken wheel, 1 flat battery (all in 1 day) and 2 silly travellers stuck in the middle of nowhere.

1 out of 98,000,000,000: the chances that a bright mechanic from Yorkshire will pass by.  

1 out of 127,000,000,000,000: the chances that a bright mechanic from Yorkshire will pass by and will also be a great company for a few days.

1 day, 2 tyres gone 

Enough numbers, here’s a short story from the road –

Midnight, heavy rain, a week on the road. Exhausted and desperate for a camping spot we drove into the forest – rational action for us these days. It was dark, there was a little confusion mixed with some mannish ego and also a lot of mud of the gooey kind. Obviously we immediately sunk.

Gooey kind of mud

Locals who were nearby came right away with axes and shovels, jumped into the sticky mud and started to dig (Yes – I, too, was asking myself what locals with axes and shovels were doing at midnight in the forest but I did not care enough at the time to find out as long as they keep on digging).

The forest was too dark, the mud too gooey and the rain too wet for a heroic rescue mission so they all gave up and instead took the vodka bottles out and opened an informal welcome celebration for us. Overall it was a rather enjoyable night.

In the morning, after a tractor pulled us out, our dear rescuers invited us to their village. Irena and Ashot showed us what is real hospitality. They fed us well, took us to hot springs in the forest (a different one, not the sticky muddy forest), did a tour around and finished off with a traditional ‘Banya’.  

Beforehand I didn’t know what a traditional Banya meant so here we go: ‘Everything You Needed to Know About Banya’ in 5 short paragraphs.

After-Banya party

The Banya was introduced to our Slavic friends long ago by the Vikings and the principle is similar to Sauna: sweat it all out.

The Banya hut is divided into 3 sections: the lounge, the rinsing room and the sweating cell. As in any other proper culture, men enter first; firstly undressing completely in the lounge (wearing silly hats only), then preparing buckets of icy water in the rinsing room and finally entering the sweating cell.

In the sweating cell fire heats a pile of stones. Water is sprayed on the pile to create steam. It’s tough. Feels like a shrimp in a curry dish. The skin is being baked, breathing is hard, temperature is rising to 110C but only then the real action begins.

Each one on his turn lies down while the others slap him with branches and twigs. Exactly a moment before passing out the person moves (or removed) to the rinsing room for a freezing splash of icy water. Note the extremity. The whole process is been repeated over and over until the group, utterly squeezed, is retired outside for a refreshing slow drink. 

It may sound like a sadistic torture – and perhaps it is, but the feeling in the end is divine. It’s purifying, refreshing and rejuvenating. It brings wonderful senses of calmness, cleanness and sleepiness - I love calmness, cleanness and especially sleepiness therefore I love Banya.      

*

We ended up staying with Irina and Ashot for 2 nights. The hospitality was brilliant and generous. In general – more than the pine cones seeds, the beautiful girls and the abundant burning materials – the most enjoyable aspect of Siberia is the hospitality. Everywhere in Siberia we found wonderful, kind and warm people who were willing to help us, pull us of out of the mud, direct us and make us feel welcomed: thank you, the people of Siberia.  

Route Map: Russia (leg 1) + Kazakhstan

Irena, Ashot and the whole gang, Oxana, Sergei & Jena, Alexey and the Team Gorky Rafting group, Sasha ‘is little mouse’ the Altai guide, the staff in Vianor garage Barnaul, Igor the Land Rover specialist in Omsk and all of those people we met on the side of the roads – Thanks a lot guys!!!

Jen & Noam

www.landroveroverland.co.uk

More stories and photos from the road in our website

3 Short Stories from the Georgian Valley

A week around Yusufeli with a notebook and my camera

Tea party

Looking for a mountain pass high above the river, we drove through Kalicaya, a small but lively village. Locals, mostly old men, were sitting outside around wooden tables, playing cards and sipping tea. We were passing slowly when one of them spotted us, walked into the road and signalled us to pull over.

When we did he started to fire orders to his friends and immediately our table was ready with chairs, tea, sugar and cookies. But I couldn’t sit yet. Our hosts’ smiley, inviting faces captured me and I wanted to photograph them first. Luckily they were extremely cooperative and happy to be photographed. It was a great moment of interaction for me and, I assume, for them.

By The Barhal River, Yusufeli

Eager to learn, focused, disciplined. The Kayaking team boys were sitting around their unexpected English teacher. They attentively absorbed every phrase, word, symbol – learning.

They’ve been working hard for weeks, preparing for their qualification for the London 2012 Olympic Games. They’ve been staying with us, at the wonderfully hospitable Green Peace Camp and promptly befriended us. It was only a matter of time before Jen took the important role of helping out with the essential English lessons.

Jen in Action 

English lesson at 21:00 every evening

The Kayakers in Action

Kayaking is a fundamental aspect in the local culture in the valley and somehow everyone in Yusufeli seems to be involved with the popular water sport. “The Barhal River is one of the best kayaking spots in the world” – Mark, expert Kayaker from Peckham London, tells me. He came over with his other kayak buddies to enjoy it whilst it’s still here.

The Barhal River, together with the small town of Yusufeli, is due to disappear underwater in the near future. Turkish developers have been planning to dam the river and flood the whole valley.

“It’s very sad” says Oktay, European championship in Kayaking, “everyone’s life here is on or around the river. But we will be ok, we will never stop Kayaking”

Jen and I, Rafting with the locals

Tracing the Source of River Barhal

Gear list: tent, 4x4 vehicle, heavy boots, food, jacket, climbing/trekking gear, camera

Time to complete: at least 2 full strenuous days – ideally 3

Step 1: four hours off road driving along the canyon, following the gushing river.

Step 2: trek up the Kashkar Mountain along the stream to reach the (improvised) base camp (3500m)

Step 3: crash into bed (sleeping bag)

Step 4: get up early and climb to the glacier (4000m)

Step 5: take a deep breath, look around and rejoice

Jen & Noam Ben Tsion


Read more about our journey here www.landroveroverland.co.uk

On the Olympus

Location: 200m below Mytikas summit, Olympus Mountain, Greece

Altitude: 2,800m

Day: 64

Total distance: 5003 miles

I’m stuck. I can’t climb any further. I’m trapped in a narrow rock chimney, vertical, scrambling my way up to Mytikas summit. My right hand is jammed in a small crag, my left arm is stretched sideway, pressing against the rock for balance. I must find a good hold for my legs, quickly, as my heavy rucksack is dragging me down.

And it’s heavy indeed: 3 days worth of supplies; food, water, warm clothes, waterproofs – enough to get both of us up and down the Olympus mount, ‘the Home of Gods’ and the highest peak in Greece. Crackling shoulders, rapid heartbeats, heavy sweating, extreme pulse, aching muscles; I must find the strength to push upwards.

I’m taking a deep breath and looking down for a short moment. 20m below me the mist is hiding the bottom – mystical and terrifying. I’m trying to work out what will happen if I’d lose my hold, say, lift my hand for a second – how long will it take before I’d hit the ground below?

It looks like a long way. Down there somewhere there’s the footpath. We climbed at least 150m since we left it. Even the footpath, though, won’t stop me. It’s too steep. I’d probably roll over it and shoot straight down a few hundred meters through the cliff. That would be a mess.

a day earlier

25 minutes earlier

I’m completely alone now; Jens’ sweet tuchas has disappeared more than 5 minutes ago above the overhanging boulders. She’s agile and fast on those rocks and always preferred to scramble than walk. Sexy. I’d love to open the straps and let the rucksack slip down, but we cannot afford losing the Nutella. Tough.

It’s not too bad being stuck here, though. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to answer some of the most frequent questions we’ve been asked during our journey and since I’m not going anywhere, why won’t you just sit comfortably while I tell about the two most basic elements of our voyage: accommodation and food.

Accommodation

We love Boudicca, our mighty Land Rover, and I would be singing a love song to her right now if I wasn’t short of breath. Until now she’s been an excellent vehicle (touch rock) and a cosy home. We have spent most of our 64 nights sleeping inside her snug interior.

How?

Well, when you get a chance, have a look into a Discovery 3. Imagine it without the middle seats and with a risen wood platform on the floor instead. You’d spot a bed shape and it’s indeed one of the best places in the world to position a bed.

Before we left England Jen made curtains and I built hidden compartments in the wooden platform. We placed our old futon on it, packed 2 sets of bed linen and hung a photo of the queen on the ceiling. Bedroom’s ready.

(*) Since we’re already in the mood for technical details, here are other essential facilities:

• ·        Shower: 25L water tank on the roof and a hose attached to a shower head
• ·        DJ desk: Sony Walkman plugged to external HD with 1T of music
• ·        Electricity connection: 12v – 240w converter with UK/EU/US adapters sockets
• ·        Kitchen kit: 2 gas stove burners, a set of pans & pots and utensils packed in a large Stanley tool box   

Now, we’re completely self-sufficient, we can camp nearly everywhere: on mountain tops, in flat fields, along rivers, by the sea, in hidden forests or truly innocent, in town centres. Boudicca, the glorious machine, is the key to our freedom. Example:

Day 47, Lake Ohrid, Macedonia

Planning to drive through Macedonia in a day, we stopped by Lake Orhid for a quick picture. A cliff above the clear lake, a bed of flowers and a secluded little beach – the deepest, oldest and biggest lake in Europe is also a pretty one and we decided that despite the early hour of the day this is where we shall spend the night. Easily done with Boudicca.

In the morning we went for a swim. In noon we hiked around the hills and by evening we found a little fishermen village with a small Taverna. Then other travellers joined to the cliff community so started a traveller’s party.

Eventually we stayed on the cliff above Lake Orhid for a week. – Freedom.

View from our cliff-site 1

Our cliff-site

View from our cliff-site 2

*

I’m finally able to place the tip of my toe on the rock. I’m pushing my body upwards. I’m swinging my left hand up and reaching a tiny angled stone on the rock face – but the stone is loose and I’m losing my hold. The rucksack is too heavy, I can’t find the point of balance around my mid body and I’m slipping.

The jam in my right hand is opening up. I’m losing the lock. I’m now hanging in the air. Only two fingers are stopping me from falling and I’m thinking about food.

Food

Food and travelling always work together. The equation is simple: We love food; we love any opportunity to try good food and there are many opportunities to try good food when travelling, therefore, we love travelling.

Candy stand in Istanbul

Good food can be found nearly anywhere; we just need to know how to find it and where to search for it. The most important ingredient is Freshness. Let it be fresh.

This is how we keep it fresh. During the day we hunt for farmers markets, stands by the side of the roads, bakeries in little villages and stalls in big cities. The treasures are priceless: Tomatoes, carrots, apples, cherries, peaches, lettuce, cucumbers, peppers, bread, cheese, ham (for me), fish (for me too), nuts, dried apricots (fresh?), dried figs, pickled berries, garlic, honey, oranges for juice, lemons for salads, cookies, spices, olive oil, pasta, herbs, wine, coffee, little bitter unknown green thingies or whatever else is in season. Only the nutella must be bought in a supermarket (and brought up a mountain in a heavy glass jar).

The whole lot is snacked throughout the day or cooked in the evening.

Occasionally we will spy a hungry-looking local and follow him (or her) until they lead us to their local eateries. Also here the discoveries are endless: pizza, Slovaki, Burek, traditional veggie pot, shishliq kebbab, goat steak, lamb steak, beef steak, musaka, ravioli, local wine, local cheese plate and the expected-but-welcomed local salad. No matter where we are, geographically or topographically, there will be good food in there. Example #2:

Street coffee in N. Italy

Day 42, somewhere in north Albania

It was out of nowhere, night time, when we saw that place. It didn’t seem like the kind of a place we should stop at. It definitely didn’t seem like the kind of a place we’d want to eat in. In fact, in any other night we wouldn’t even spare an inch of attention on that place, but that night we were in the most lethal state: tiredness and hunger. So we stopped and walked in.

We ordered everything from the menu – namely, oriental soup, local salad and pilau rice – and waited apathetically to see – and probably taste – our poor catch of today.

We waited for an hour before food was finally served.

The soup was rich. It’s been cooked in various fresh roots and unidentified spices. A small dash of chilli perhaps, complimented with cream or yogurt. The salad was simple: chopped tomatoes, garlic and herbs, served with crusty bread and olive oil. The rice was pure white, escorted by a lemon and green onion. It was divine.

Locals joined us and we all cheered (and then cried) Manchester United playing the European Championship final. We stayed in there, camping in the back garden, just so we can have breakfast in that unexpected place too.

let it be fresh

(*) The Special Chef Award goes to Neil and Lucy from the Backpackers hostel, Berat, Albania, for feeding us so well while we were waiting for the Russian Letter of Invitation (and been the best friends we could have hoped for!). Guys, we still have enough space for you.

(**) Jade & Andie, we love you too - learn how to cook!

*

Still on the rock, but I’m feeling a lot more energetic now. Stretching my left leg, I’m placing my weight on the crag and securing my right hand. Lifting, switching balance, securing and lifting again; rucksack is feeling free. I like it. Repeating. There are good holds here. Repeating. I’m moving fast again, enjoying the rhythm. I got it. Now it’s easy.

Higher and higher, another several moves and the rock face becomes wider, gentler and flatter. And here’s a cone – a pile of stones, marking the summit. Summit! Jen is here, sitting, observing, resting on the highest rock in Greece, waiting for me.

Next on our journey: rafting, trekking and chilling out in Yusufeli, Turkey, before taking the (illusive?) ferry to Sochi, Russia: possibly the most challenging border crossing in our journey.   

Jen & Noam

more pictures & blogs 

www.landroveroverland.co.uk

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