But first we leave Mongolia. Amongst the hard work of riding a motorbike in Mongolia there were some very amusing things. But first here is a plan of the empire of the great Mongolian empire at its zenith in Ghenghis’s own handwriting !
Close to the last town in Mongolia we were stopped by a policeman who wanted to see my passport. I handed it over to him. He went slowly through it examining it page by page which seemed to take an eternity. He looked puzzled which is usually not a good look with a passport. Then I saw his problem. I gently removed my passport from his hands and and turned it up the right way for him! He flashed a big smile of understanding and appreciation, handed it back and we were on our way.
Then not too far away we were stopped again by a young and cheerful policeman “in charge” of a barrier arm. He did not have a word of English. No, he was not interested in our passports. It was money he wanted. 2,000 Mongolian Tughrik ( about $2NZ ) to get the barrier arm lifted. Diana persuaded him to just take MN1,000. Then asked for a receipt. I thought to myself that not knowing the Mongolian word for receipt was going to be a bit of a problem and in any case that was not how the system exactly worked. He cheerfully put the MN1,000 note in his pocket, raised the barrier arm and waved us through, quite cheekily I thought!
Now it us time to leave Mongolia. The road climbs up to the border pass.
It is bleak, treeless, cold ( 4 degrees ) with a strong cold northern wind. Even the last town looked bleak
We arrive at the border crossing. Stricrly no photos are allowed so this is the last one.
We take about one and a half hours to get thru the Mongolian exit process. Then we ride across the top of the pass through about 20 km of no man’s land. It was so bleak no man would want the land anyway!
Then Russian entry! This is the bit we had been warned about. And it was all true. The problem was with the bike importing even though we already had a set of Russian papers for the bike from customs clearance in Vladivostok.
The sole person doing the bike importing was a 4 star general. I know that because he had four stars on his epaulets and also all sorts of badges on his immaculate uniform. He clearly saw himself as a VIP. So did I but with a different perspective as only a “ Vehicle Importing Person!” I woderered if he had done something really naughty to be given such a job at such a bleak and inhospitable place. I was three hours in front of his window waiting for my chance. At the end of the first hour he promptly, in the middle of a transaction, stood up, shut his little window, put on his impressive General’s hat and went to lunch for a bit over an hour. Meanwhile I had to stay in front of his window so as not to lose my place in the queue. He was clearly the sort of bloke who looked for and got pleasure out of finding paperwork discrepancies or inconsistencies. I swear I could see his upper lip twitch with excitement when he found such an inconsistency! God knows what his family life must be like!
Then, hallelujah we are through after 6 hours at the border.
So then it is a quick trip down to the town of Kosh-Agach. But where is it? Maps.Me said the town was 30 km down the road! My GPS showed us in the town but no hotel where it was supposed to be. Then I realised what was happening. Kosh-Agach is a restricted border town and obviusly the Russian military alter the GPS system so as to create problems for any invading Mongolian or Chinese armies. Afterall it would be important for invading armies to not be able to find the best hotels in Kosh-Agach or somewhere to securely park their tanks for the night.
My suspicions were confirmed the next morning as the GPS suddenly “came right” a further 20 km down the road.
The Altai valley is a visual feast and a true Nirvana and was by far the most picturesque day on whole the trip so far.
As we meandered down the beautiful valley it was just one vista after another. It was all very ‘Tirolean’ to look at with backdrops of snowy mountains, lush green meadows and stands of fir trees. One could well imagine Ghengis’s men must have thought themselves in absolute paradise as there would have been warm temperatures, no doubt plenty of animals such as deer etc in the woods and fish in the rivers. Who would really want to leave such a place and walk all the way to Istanbul and back? Ditto with the Silk Road traders. You could feel the sense of history in the valley
And as such it is a very popular holiday place with the Russians. There were little log cabins and up-market lodges everywhere. And lots and lots of camping.
Apparently Putin comes here for some of his “ back to nature” bare chested , standing in a mountain stream type holidays !
Then it is across lush plains to Barnaul.
However I will remember the Altai valley for more than its beauty ! Half way down the valley I got a full blown case of the Russian equivalent of the Dehli belly. I will spare you dear reader of all the lurid details but as I sat on the side of the road next day at our first stop, spewing my innards out on the roadside I did wonder if, as a 72 year old, should I be doing this or should I be in a nice resort or on a nice cruise boat somewhere (where such problems should not occur and if so you can probably sue !) - or even in a retirement home?
So after two days in the long valley we get to the city of Barnaul where I have spent the last two days being very intimately associated with the toilet in the hotel room. Much of this post has been composed in this position. “Ah, that explains it all” do I hear you exclaim !
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