DAY FIVE: I Almost Kissed the Siberian Ground

Arctic Ocean Wild Camp to the Russian Mainland

In the movie industry, there's a thing called "continuity." It's the process in which the director and a group of editors make sure the movie proceeds in a realistic and logical way. It involves identifying and removing glaring and, sometimes, not-so-glaring, errors. Errors like a cell phone appearing in the background of a movie that's set in the 1960's. Like a woman walking in the rain for hours, but when she walks into a building her clothes aren't wet. Like a guy who has a tattoo on his left arm and in the next scene it's on his right arm. Like an oak leaf inside of an igloo that is supposedly a thousand miles from the nearest tree. (Thanks, Scott, for pointing that one out--and for the public humiliation that followed.)

I wish I had a continuity team, but I'm just a one-man show. I can't be expected to be the rider, writer, actor, director, producer, special effects man, illustrator, editor AND continuity expert. Therefore, I can promise you folks who are still reading this journal that you'll be likely to see many continuity errors in future pages. Thank you in advance for your understanding.

Today's ride was just as fun and as adventurous as the previous ones. I'm going to start telling you about it in the next paragraph.

************

When I woke up, I was frozen stiff. I fired up my camp stove and aimed the flame over every square inch of my skin to thaw myself out. Fully warmed, I jammed all my stuff back into my exploding pannier, said a tearful goodbye to my igloo, and commenced cycling toward Russia.

A few hours later, I finally reached the mainland of northern Russia. I DID IT! I achieved my first major goal for this trip! I believe I am the first Cycleblazer ever to pedal his/her bike from North America to Asia by way of ice and snow. I guess you could call me the Admiral Peary of bicycle touring.

The riding in Siberian Russia wasn't easier, but at least it was a little warmer. I was thankful for that.

The further south I rode, the more I could see the melting of ice and snow. Eventually, I got to some actual roads. A couple hundred miles later, I got to actual PAVED roads. At that point I realized how much Russia resembled my homeland of Minnesota. I was especially impressed by this country's quantity of slush. The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong was too.

We were SO impressed that we made a couple of short films on the subject of Russian slush. Please watch them with no judgements on continuity.

Russia has potholes that are almost as big as Minnesota's too.

I made it to the city of Drzhevlostok, where I was ready to start searching for a Holiday Inn, though I'd settle for a Motel 6. If worse came to worst, I'd even settle for a semi-trailer. My search for accommodations took me through a fancy Drzhevlostok neighborhood, where I was attacked by a wild Russian black bear.

It was a bloody affair, but I eventually fought the bear off with my clever rapartee.

For the life of me, I could not find a civilized place to sleep in this town. All I needed was a bed with a pillow. I thanked my lucky stars when a Russian peasant noticed my dilemma and offered me a place to stay for the night. Sure, the bed was made of straw and the pillow was a cement block, but I appreciated it nonetheless. He was a super-nice guy.

The only thing that bothered me was that every once in a while he would shout out words that almost sounded like he was a Communist. In one of his rants he rattled off the following:

"Despair, Greg, is typical of those who do not understand the causes of evil, see there is no way out, and are incapable of struggle." "There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen." "Every society is three meals away from chaos." "A lie told often enough becomes the truth."

"What exactly IS truth in today's world," I mumbled while my eyelids were getting heavy. I managed to get my phone out to take a picture of my generous host before drifting off to REM sleep.

He was ready to talk all night. "Don't you understand the goals of the capitalist pig-dog bourgeoisie," insisted my host?

"I can't think about that right now," I slurred. Then I felt a stream of slobbering saliva running down my chin as I fell into a deep, 12-hour long sleep.

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	9
Comment on this entry	Comment	2

Scott AndersonHave you read Off the Map: Bicycling Across Siberia, by Mark Jenkins? Published in 1992, it’s one of my favorite bike travel books. “ Jenkins relates the invigorating experiences he shared as part of a team of three Americans and four Russians who set the world record for bicycling, riding from Vladivostock to Leningrad.”

They didn’t find Lenin, but it was still a hell of a long, strange trip.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Scott AndersonNo, I'm not familiar with that book, but I'll definitely have to check it out. Thanks.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago