In Киев near the Петривка metro station are a couple of blocks of book stores. Among them are some dedicated to old and obsolete publications, as well as the free lance dealers who spread out their wares on a blanket on the sidewalk
I found an old Soviet era road atlas. The highway route numbers had changed in Украина, I guess as part of the new nationalism in Ukraine after the fall of the СССР. Anyway, it is all in Русский язык which was fine by me. After all, I was headed for Россия.
One thing is apparent at first glance. Whoever said all roads lead to Rome never saw this!
Moscow is laid out kind of like an elongated dartboard. There are radial boulevards (prospects) and circular ones. Getting into Moscow is easy. Wherever you are, there is a highway to Moscow.
Departing Moscow is yet another story. All roads also leave Moscow. You must find the correct one or you will be going a long distance in the wrong direction.
What I love about this old map is the layout of the cloverleaf intersections on the outer ring. This helps you find the correct point of divergence and the correct lane for it.
I departed for Russia on the next day after I picked up my passport. Again, I got a late start. I had to kiss my lady goodbye and decide what to pack. Leaving our little flat on Маяковского, I had a little spill avoiding a head on with a car. Both Ukraine and Russia have some very aggressive drivers. Good thing I had strong boots.
I only made it to Кролевец that first afternoon. I could have pushed on to the border, but it looked pretty desolate on either side of it. I'd need to find a place for the night and I didn't know what problems I might have at the border. Better, I thought, to get a fresh start at the border in the morning. That proved portentous.
My right ankle was swollen after that little spill in Киев. My foot was twisted completely around under the motorcycle as it went down. I could hardly walk. But, I could ride. There wasn't much to photograph in Кролевец. So, I got to the border mid morning.
Generally, when I ride solo, I use my "pocket translator" to negotiate with people who speak Russian and not English. This is my cell phone and my bilingual girlfriend on the other end. I just call her and ask her to talk to whomever I'm dealing with. Then I pass him the phone. When he passes it back she will tell me what he said. I tell her my answer and pass it back, etc.
In Ukraine, the way it's done is you buy an "unlocked" phone, preferably a quad band. Mine is an LG for the equivalent of about $55--. Then, you buy a SIM (Service Identity Module) card for it. This contains your specific number and defines your "plan." Mine is a pay as you go that's very reasonable within Ukraine. Long distance to the USA is expensive with this plan. So, I got another SIM specifically for that.
But, when I got to the border I had no service. I was on my own. So, naturally, one official got a bunch of my money for a green card for vehicles. I didn't have the $90-- she demanded. So, they took $40-- and some Ukrainian грн.
This particular border experience was even more involved and time consuming than the one at Moldova. After the Ukrainians got their piece of me I moved on to the Russians. The Russians were no fun but even they were easier than the Ukrainians.
So, I got back in the wind at about 2:00 in the afternoon with empty pockets and a half tank of fuel. I spent hours going through customs, and all!
I was so happy to finally be loose in Russia! But, I was concerned that my girlfriend would worry. And, I needed money and fuel. The closest dot of any significance on my map was the town of Севск. So, that's where I turned off the highway.
Cruising through Севск I found a "bankomat." (ATM machine) My VISA card got me a bunch of rubles. I tanked up and then turned my attention to the wireless provider in town. The girl there refused to sell me a SIM because I had the wrong kind of immigration card. I tried to explain I'm a tourist, not an immigrant.
Well, at least I had money and fuel. No pocket translator. So, I rolled on to the next significant dot, the city of Брянск. There, I found some Russian bikers who directed me to a reasonable гостиница. (hotel) I got the lady at the front desk to call Жанна on her cell phone for the negotiations. She told her I needed an "operator" for my phone.
So, she called me a taxi. The driver took me to a wireless store. This time they were happy with my documentation. But, they took photocopies of everything. The SIM I bought worked in both Ukraine and Russia. But, the minutes were rather expensive.
For history buffs: Брянск (Bryansk) figures prominently in the "Battle of Moscow." (WWII) I suggest Wikipedia reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Moscow
Again, I didn't find much to photograph. Besides, I was frustrated with the turn of events at the border crossing and in Севск. I needed to make better time on this ride.
I was determined to at least reach Наро-Фоминск in the Московская Область the following day. This, I did. But, there was a cold rain the whole way. I only stopped once along the way for a bowl of borsch.
In Наро-Фоминск, I once again needed to find a гостиница. The one I found was a little pricey, but it was very nice. The people were wonderful and very helpful. And I knew for certain that accommodations were not going to get cheaper as I got closer to the heart of Moscow. This was to be my base of operations.
I had a nice suite with an entry hall, bath, bedroom and living room with a balcony.
"We can lift it," they asserted.
As I approached Moscow the 2 lane highway from Киев became a freeway not unlike major arterial routes to New York City or LA. Then, it turned into Ленинский Проспект, (Leninskey Prospect) a boulevard bigger than Park Avenue in NYC with new shiny high rise buildings and incredible traffic.
I figured Red Square must be at the center of the bull's-eye of the "dart board." (see above map) I'd just stay on Ленинский Проспект until it did that little dog leg left. Then, I'd continue on, making ever tightening right hand turns until I got there. That plan worked perfectly! Suddenly, there it was!
Again, finding my way out was another problem. Judging from the time of day and the angle of the sun, I was headed for Kyrgyzstan. I had to ask directions to Ленинский Проспект. Luckily, I found Russians tolerant of my poor speech.
That evening, I went to the McDonald's in Наро-Фоминск. My worst language problems are usually at the golden arches. Often it isn't enough to speak English, Russian, Ukrainian nor Moldavian. One must use McDonald speak. Everything is a McThis or a McThat. At most other places I can point and grunt at what I want. People are always happy to accommodate but one never knows what the kids will give you.
3 days of Наро-Фоминск was enough and I decided to turn toward Киев. I wasn't in a great hurry but the return trip was much more efficient in that I didn't need to search for anything. So, I didn't dilly dally but I took time to take lots of pictures.
At a major intersection in the center of Наро-Фоминск is a big church. Curiously, it is being guarded with an army tank. It's directly across the street from McDonald's. So, naturally, I had to stop at McDonald's on my way through town for some pictures.
I have no idea what good old #945 did to achieve such an honor. But, I do know that Наро-Фоминск and the nearby Нара River also figured prominently in the Battle of Moscow. (again, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Moscow)
Extirpating the Nazis was tough on the Russians and they fought valiantly. The Soviets lost 20 million souls in that war. Because Hitler's Wehrmacht advance was halted in this neck of the woods, the Nazis hung out here for a while. Generally speaking, Nazi Panzer Divisions in the neighborhood can be rough on the real estate. Фоминск was more or less leveled. Over 600 buildings were destroyed.
My cursory research on this church yielded that it survived probably because it made a good headquarters. Later, the Soviets made it into a war museum. After the fall of Communism, with religious freedom, it is again a church. But, the tank remains a monument to the fallen heroes. (see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naro-Fominsk)
The British word for gasoline is petrol. Some Russians or Ukrainians speak English but will be confused by "gasoline." They call it benzine.
When you stop to tank up you often can find a facility to answer "nature's call." But, not always.
The Russian countryside is heavily wooded or else it is farmed. Even beside farmland there are opportunities for discretion.
There are not too many population centers between Москва and the border with Украина on the highway to Киев. This complicates finding places to stop for things. But, it makes for wide open, picturesque countryside.
It is mostly 2 lane highway. It is rough in some places and there is always plenty of heavy truck traffic. Also, there are the "entitled" in the Lexus and the Mercedes SUV going over 100 mph. My little Suzuki will only do about 100. The road is too flat and straight for my taste.
It was way too early in the day to stop in Брянск on the way back. I decided against pushing on to the border. Due to my prior experience there I decided to allocate plenty of time mid day for dealing with immigration and customs authorities. So, I took some side trips, unsuccessfully looking for lodging in small towns. This was partially due to the similarity between Russian highway signs for lodging and hospital. They both depict a bed but the hospital sign also has a red cross. On very old signs the red cross will be faded into oblivion.
Sure enough, the гостиница in Севск was there all along. I missed it the first time for lack of looking or asking. It is this big old place. The shower and toilet are down the hall and down stairs. There are 3 beds in my room. The wiring is a little funky but the lights worked. There is gated and locked off-street parking in the back. Mostly, it was CHEAP. I was in biker tramp heaven.
There was plenty of daylight left. So, I decided to walk into town to find a meal and some пиво. Севск turned out to be an absolute delight!
Nobody seemed too concerned. They indicated to me this was normal. It's just "Russian wodka" and he'll be fine in the morning. A cell phone was used and soon someone came in a car. They just dragged him out to the car and stuffed him in. I tried to help. I picked up the shoes and other things that fell from him. They just threw that stuff in after him.
The following morning I discovered I still had a few too many rubles in my pocket. They are worthless after exiting Russia. So, I packed up my bike and went back into town in search of breakfast and coffee. I brought my camera and took some pictures of the interesting architecture in this old town.
In the cafe I was joined by a local character. I think his name is Alexis, or something like that. But, I knew him as: "May I Ask You." He told me he was some sort of professor or teacher of history at a local school or learning institution. The night before he was only a peripheral to the local wodka drinking team. His English is a little better than the rest, but still very limited. He could articulate one phrase very well: "May I ask You........ (something, something) 10 rubles?"
This was a repeat act of the night before. I would hand him a 10 spot. That would satiate him for about 1 or 2 minutes. Then, he'd turn to me and ask: "May I ask you......" The price of rubles was about 29.8 per dollar. So, he was bumming 34 cents at a time. I finally told him that this was getting very boooooring! "How much do you need, total," I asked? No response. I guess he couldn't say any other quantity. Anyway, he finally took нет for an answer.
It was very clear to me that he wanted to begin drinking wodka early in the morning. He was not alone. We were soon joined by the rest of the wodka gang, without the women or the boyfriend. They had very different ways of asking. They could say: "Russian wodka" very well while gesturing an injection to the throat. My response was: "No thanks. I gotta ride."
I took pictures of a few more buildings. Then, I hopped on my bike and scooted down to the municipal square, town center.
There, I got a picture of Lenin. I didn't want to spend the whole morning fooling around in Севск. But, as I was going in that direction, I remembered something that caught my eye the first time I cruised through town.
Before leaving town I went North from the town square, crossed the bridge, did a U turn, and sure enough, my flash memory was correct. I thought I studied the complete list of Russian traffic controls. The sign at the top is an axle load limit and the bottom one is a speed limit. But, the one in the middle isn't listed, anywhere. This is the "exploding car" sign. It's not unique to Севск. I saw it once before in southern Украина. (Click on the picture to enlarge)
I'm not sure, but I think it refers to the bump where the bridge meets the solid pavement. They must think this an awesome hazard. 10kph is about 6mph. My Suzuki has a modern and well maintained suspension. I could probably do that bridge at 90mph without "getting air." (under my wheels) I was tempted to try, but I didn't want to upset the locals.
From there, I got back up on the highway. I stopped at a truck stop where the routes to Moscow divide. There was nothing else between me and the border, about 18km away. I tanked up. Rather than carry rubles I carried them as gasoline and oil. I wanted my pockets nearly empty for my upcoming encounter with the extortion gang at the border. About 12 miles later, I rolled into the Russian side of the border.......
I couldn't take pictures of the border crossing nor the guards. Cameras made them very nervous. I guess maybe they thought I was a PLO agent, or something. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I ever got my hands on Osama I could kill him myself just for what I must go through getting on an airliner.
The fall colors were coming to Ukraine. I stopped to take a few pictures along the way. The Winter grains were up in the fields. I didn't know which were malt barley for beer or wheat for bread. It looked good, though.
From this point on, the trip was rather uneventful except for a few of the usual things. The police busted me for running a detour. All I did was follow the car in front of me. He got busted, too. We joined a group of busted drivers beside the road. That's how I knew to stop. There was no "zebra stick" this time. Everybody going that way was busted. What made me nervous was how long the cop kept my passport and documents after he got around to me. All the yelling I couldn't understand a word of didn't help. He finally called me over to his car. He gave everything back with more yelling. No ticket, nor "fine."
After that, I passed a couple of other motorcycles along the way. As I got closer to Киев I remembered some big nests atop light poles beside the road in a couple of small towns. I stopped and took some pictures. I don't know what builds those. Eagles or vultures, I guess.
Moscow is laid out kind of like an elongated dartboard. There are radial boulevards (prospects) and circular ones. Getting into Moscow is easy. Wherever you are, there is a highway to Moscow.
Departing Moscow is yet another story. All roads also leave Moscow. You must find the correct one or you will be going a long distance in the wrong direction.
I departed for Russia on the next day after I picked up my passport. Again, I got a late start. I had to kiss my lady goodbye and decide what to pack. Leaving our little flat on Маяковского, I had a little spill avoiding a head on with a car. Both Ukraine and Russia have some very aggressive drivers. Good thing I had strong boots.
I only made it to Кролевец that first afternoon. I could have pushed on to the border, but it looked pretty desolate on either side of it. I'd need to find a place for the night and I didn't know what problems I might have at the border. Better, I thought, to get a fresh start at the border in the morning. That proved portentous.
My right ankle was swollen after that little spill in Киев. My foot was twisted completely around under the motorcycle as it went down. I could hardly walk. But, I could ride. There wasn't much to photograph in Кролевец. So, I got to the border mid morning.
Generally, when I ride solo, I use my "pocket translator" to negotiate with people who speak Russian and not English. This is my cell phone and my bilingual girlfriend on the other end. I just call her and ask her to talk to whomever I'm dealing with. Then I pass him the phone. When he passes it back she will tell me what he said. I tell her my answer and pass it back, etc.
In Ukraine, the way it's done is you buy an "unlocked" phone, preferably a quad band. Mine is an LG for the equivalent of about $55--. Then, you buy a SIM (Service Identity Module) card for it. This contains your specific number and defines your "plan." Mine is a pay as you go that's very reasonable within Ukraine. Long distance to the USA is expensive with this plan. So, I got another SIM specifically for that.
But, when I got to the border I had no service. I was on my own. So, naturally, one official got a bunch of my money for a green card for vehicles. I didn't have the $90-- she demanded. So, they took $40-- and some Ukrainian грн.
This particular border experience was even more involved and time consuming than the one at Moldova. After the Ukrainians got their piece of me I moved on to the Russians. The Russians were no fun but even they were easier than the Ukrainians.
So, I got back in the wind at about 2:00 in the afternoon with empty pockets and a half tank of fuel. I spent hours going through customs, and all!
I was so happy to finally be loose in Russia! But, I was concerned that my girlfriend would worry. And, I needed money and fuel. The closest dot of any significance on my map was the town of Севск. So, that's where I turned off the highway.
Cruising through Севск I found a "bankomat." (ATM machine) My VISA card got me a bunch of rubles. I tanked up and then turned my attention to the wireless provider in town. The girl there refused to sell me a SIM because I had the wrong kind of immigration card. I tried to explain I'm a tourist, not an immigrant.
Well, at least I had money and fuel. No pocket translator. So, I rolled on to the next significant dot, the city of Брянск. There, I found some Russian bikers who directed me to a reasonable гостиница. (hotel) I got the lady at the front desk to call Жанна on her cell phone for the negotiations. She told her I needed an "operator" for my phone.
So, she called me a taxi. The driver took me to a wireless store. This time they were happy with my documentation. But, they took photocopies of everything. The SIM I bought worked in both Ukraine and Russia. But, the minutes were rather expensive.
For history buffs: Брянск (Bryansk) figures prominently in the "Battle of Moscow." (WWII) I suggest Wikipedia reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Moscow
Again, I didn't find much to photograph. Besides, I was frustrated with the turn of events at the border crossing and in Севск. I needed to make better time on this ride.
I was determined to at least reach Наро-Фоминск in the Московская Область the following day. This, I did. But, there was a cold rain the whole way. I only stopped once along the way for a bowl of borsch.
In Наро-Фоминск, I once again needed to find a гостиница. The one I found was a little pricey, but it was very nice. The people were wonderful and very helpful. And I knew for certain that accommodations were not going to get cheaper as I got closer to the heart of Moscow. This was to be my base of operations.
The folks there helped me find the railroad station where I could find a bankomat and the machines that took rubles to put minutes on my mobile phone operator.
There is a kitchen downstairs. No bar, but my room had a refrigerator and there is a small store just down the street where I could buy some пиво.
Out in the courtyard I met some other visitors who were Russians. We became instant friends. They like to party.
My new friends suggested that my motorcycle would be safer not in the parking lot but on the porch of the main entry. I asked: "I should ride it up the stairs?"
"We can lift it," they asserted."200 kilos," I responded.
Indignant, they retorted: "We are Russians!"
I said: "OK, look, I'll just park it here in the courtyard."
So, I went back to the parking lot, started it and rode it up the sidewalk. I parked it near the bottom of the stairs.
Undaunted, these guys insisted that it needed to be up beside the door.
The following morning that's exactly where I found it, neatly parked on the side stand.
Unfortunately, I never got a picture of that. I was preoccupied with riding it down the stairs and off to Moscow. The sky was foreboding, but the rain had stopped. I wanted to use this window of opportunity to enjoy a dry ride to Red Square.
I figured Red Square must be at the center of the bull's-eye of the "dart board." (see above map) I'd just stay on Ленинский Проспект until it did that little dog leg left. Then, I'd continue on, making ever tightening right hand turns until I got there. That plan worked perfectly! Suddenly, there it was!
Again, finding my way out was another problem. Judging from the time of day and the angle of the sun, I was headed for Kyrgyzstan. I had to ask directions to Ленинский Проспект. Luckily, I found Russians tolerant of my poor speech.
That evening, I went to the McDonald's in Наро-Фоминск. My worst language problems are usually at the golden arches. Often it isn't enough to speak English, Russian, Ukrainian nor Moldavian. One must use McDonald speak. Everything is a McThis or a McThat. At most other places I can point and grunt at what I want. People are always happy to accommodate but one never knows what the kids will give you.
3 days of Наро-Фоминск was enough and I decided to turn toward Киев. I wasn't in a great hurry but the return trip was much more efficient in that I didn't need to search for anything. So, I didn't dilly dally but I took time to take lots of pictures.
At a major intersection in the center of Наро-Фоминск is a big church. Curiously, it is being guarded with an army tank. It's directly across the street from McDonald's. So, naturally, I had to stop at McDonald's on my way through town for some pictures.
Extirpating the Nazis was tough on the Russians and they fought valiantly. The Soviets lost 20 million souls in that war. Because Hitler's Wehrmacht advance was halted in this neck of the woods, the Nazis hung out here for a while. Generally speaking, Nazi Panzer Divisions in the neighborhood can be rough on the real estate. Фоминск was more or less leveled. Over 600 buildings were destroyed.
My cursory research on this church yielded that it survived probably because it made a good headquarters. Later, the Soviets made it into a war museum. After the fall of Communism, with religious freedom, it is again a church. But, the tank remains a monument to the fallen heroes. (see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naro-Fominsk)
When you stop to tank up you often can find a facility to answer "nature's call." But, not always.
The Russian countryside is heavily wooded or else it is farmed. Even beside farmland there are opportunities for discretion.
There are not too many population centers between Москва and the border with Украина on the highway to Киев. This complicates finding places to stop for things. But, it makes for wide open, picturesque countryside.
It is mostly 2 lane highway. It is rough in some places and there is always plenty of heavy truck traffic. Also, there are the "entitled" in the Lexus and the Mercedes SUV going over 100 mph. My little Suzuki will only do about 100. The road is too flat and straight for my taste.In some places it looks like it could be in rural America. Here, for example, the farmers make those 1 ton hay rolls.
It was way too early in the day to stop in Брянск on the way back. I decided against pushing on to the border. Due to my prior experience there I decided to allocate plenty of time mid day for dealing with immigration and customs authorities. So, I took some side trips, unsuccessfully looking for lodging in small towns. This was partially due to the similarity between Russian highway signs for lodging and hospital. They both depict a bed but the hospital sign also has a red cross. On very old signs the red cross will be faded into oblivion.So, I decided to try Севск, again. I didn't stay there the first time. However, I figured there must be lodging around there, somewhere. I needed a little luck. It was getting to be late afternoon/early evening.
Sure enough, the гостиница in Севск was there all along. I missed it the first time for lack of looking or asking. It is this big old place. The shower and toilet are down the hall and down stairs. There are 3 beds in my room. The wiring is a little funky but the lights worked. There is gated and locked off-street parking in the back. Mostly, it was CHEAP. I was in biker tramp heaven.Севск is close to the border. There was no longer any time urgency. I had done almost all of the Russian leg of my journey in one day even with the stops I made.
There was plenty of daylight left. So, I decided to walk into town to find a meal and some пиво. Севск turned out to be an absolute delight!The cafe I found was obviously a local hang out. There were perogies and other snacks. I met what I describe as the local "wodka" drinking crew. We were sitting at a table, buying rounds. One guy just flat passed out. I could hardly believe it! When his head hit the flagstone floor it sounded like a dropped bowling ball!
Nobody seemed too concerned. They indicated to me this was normal. It's just "Russian wodka" and he'll be fine in the morning. A cell phone was used and soon someone came in a car. They just dragged him out to the car and stuffed him in. I tried to help. I picked up the shoes and other things that fell from him. They just threw that stuff in after him.We all went back into the cafe except him and the driver. I tried to ask who all is going to off load him at the destination. Nobody understood my concern. Again, it's just that good old "Russian wodka." No problem!
Then we got busy with some serious drinking. We were joined by a couple of Russian women. I guess the cops must have heard about the Yankee in town. They checked in on us a couple of times. So, we moved the party into a back room.
I bought a bottle of "wodka." It was cheaper and more efficient then buying rounds. Here, there was a little ritual with it, like the salt and lime used with tequila. Here, it's orange and "borsch" which was actually just a slaw of shredded cabbage.
One of the women was groping me and these guys were encouraging me by extolling the virtues of Russian women and Russian wodka. But, it was clear she had a boyfriend and I already had a nice hunk of Russian woman waiting for me in Киев.
Then, the cops found us and checked in on me twice again. I love gorilla theater but this amount of attention being paid me was making me nervous. So, I gave her the rest of the bottle and split for my hotel room. It was pretty late by then.
The following morning I discovered I still had a few too many rubles in my pocket. They are worthless after exiting Russia. So, I packed up my bike and went back into town in search of breakfast and coffee. I brought my camera and took some pictures of the interesting architecture in this old town.
In the cafe I was joined by a local character. I think his name is Alexis, or something like that. But, I knew him as: "May I Ask You." He told me he was some sort of professor or teacher of history at a local school or learning institution. The night before he was only a peripheral to the local wodka drinking team. His English is a little better than the rest, but still very limited. He could articulate one phrase very well: "May I ask You........ (something, something) 10 rubles?"
This was a repeat act of the night before. I would hand him a 10 spot. That would satiate him for about 1 or 2 minutes. Then, he'd turn to me and ask: "May I ask you......" The price of rubles was about 29.8 per dollar. So, he was bumming 34 cents at a time. I finally told him that this was getting very boooooring! "How much do you need, total," I asked? No response. I guess he couldn't say any other quantity. Anyway, he finally took нет for an answer.
It was very clear to me that he wanted to begin drinking wodka early in the morning. He was not alone. We were soon joined by the rest of the wodka gang, without the women or the boyfriend. They had very different ways of asking. They could say: "Russian wodka" very well while gesturing an injection to the throat. My response was: "No thanks. I gotta ride."
I took pictures of a few more buildings. Then, I hopped on my bike and scooted down to the municipal square, town center.
There, I got a picture of Lenin. I didn't want to spend the whole morning fooling around in Севск. But, as I was going in that direction, I remembered something that caught my eye the first time I cruised through town.
Before leaving town I went North from the town square, crossed the bridge, did a U turn, and sure enough, my flash memory was correct. I thought I studied the complete list of Russian traffic controls. The sign at the top is an axle load limit and the bottom one is a speed limit. But, the one in the middle isn't listed, anywhere. This is the "exploding car" sign. It's not unique to Севск. I saw it once before in southern Украина. (Click on the picture to enlarge)
I'm not sure, but I think it refers to the bump where the bridge meets the solid pavement. They must think this an awesome hazard. 10kph is about 6mph. My Suzuki has a modern and well maintained suspension. I could probably do that bridge at 90mph without "getting air." (under my wheels) I was tempted to try, but I didn't want to upset the locals.But, I took the time to look in the bushes beside the road. Nope, no burned out hulks of exploded cars. No terrorists, nor cops with bazookas. Nobody waiting to explode me for violating the 6mph speed limit.
From there, I got back up on the highway. I stopped at a truck stop where the routes to Moscow divide. There was nothing else between me and the border, about 18km away. I tanked up. Rather than carry rubles I carried them as gasoline and oil. I wanted my pockets nearly empty for my upcoming encounter with the extortion gang at the border. About 12 miles later, I rolled into the Russian side of the border.......This time it went somewhat easier. The biggest problem is knowing exactly which booth to stop at. Then, one must show the papers requested. Then, they give you more papers. Then, the guy in the next booth wants those plus more papers. Sometimes, a piece is torn off a paper you already filled out. It is stamped and you are instructed to keep it with you at all times. Being on a motorcycle is different from a car or truck in that the papers can be taken by the wind. So, at one point I had to chase a bunch of my papers down the street.
I couldn't take pictures of the border crossing nor the guards. Cameras made them very nervous. I guess maybe they thought I was a PLO agent, or something. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I ever got my hands on Osama I could kill him myself just for what I must go through getting on an airliner.
The fall colors were coming to Ukraine. I stopped to take a few pictures along the way. The Winter grains were up in the fields. I didn't know which were malt barley for beer or wheat for bread. It looked good, though.
From this point on, the trip was rather uneventful except for a few of the usual things. The police busted me for running a detour. All I did was follow the car in front of me. He got busted, too. We joined a group of busted drivers beside the road. That's how I knew to stop. There was no "zebra stick" this time. Everybody going that way was busted. What made me nervous was how long the cop kept my passport and documents after he got around to me. All the yelling I couldn't understand a word of didn't help. He finally called me over to his car. He gave everything back with more yelling. No ticket, nor "fine."I didn't see any point in stopping at Кролевец. It was too early. As small as Кролевец is, there is nothing as large for a long way toward Киев. I went a long distance on reserve before finding fuel.
After that, I passed a couple of other motorcycles along the way. As I got closer to Киев I remembered some big nests atop light poles beside the road in a couple of small towns. I stopped and took some pictures. I don't know what builds those. Eagles or vultures, I guess.Late in the afternoon I was approaching Бровары. I know that town and a couple of people who live there. They are friends of Жанна. Жанна and I rode to Бровары a few times to deal with her documents at a government records office, there.
I figured I may as well push on to Киев and our little flat on Маяковского Prospect. I was home before sundown. Жанна and I had a wonderful reunion.
THAT was a ride! 4 days getting to Red Square. Only one overnight in Севск on the return. My motorcycle had 60 more days on the Wyoming tag. My next task was to find a place for it to sleep over the Winter before my return to Wyoming.
