Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The Lada is one of the ubiquitous relics of the Soviet car industry. They are like
little boxes on wheels with large round headlights, and are often seen conked out
on the roadside. I always savoured riding in them, as you can feel every gravel
stone and bump. Somehow I preferred that to the dull drone of a modern vehicle in
which it is hard to appreciate the speed.
For six hours I sat gripping my seat, keeping the radio at full blast to ensure
that both the driver and myself stayed awake. He rocketed along the forest road,
treating the unsealed surface like an obstacle course, swerving around mud and
football-sized gravel stones, and taking the apex of most corners. Gravel peppered
the underside of the car, sending vibrations up through my feet.
At 4 a.m. we slipped out of the forest and the lights of Petrozavodsk came into
view. After being checked by road police wielding machine guns, I directed the
driver to the suburb of Drevlyanka. At the base of an apartment building, I unfurled
my possessions onto the street and watched the Lada putt off into the distance.
'Well, Tim, this is it,' I muttered. Shivering with cold and exhaustion, I climbed
the stairs and woke the Kleshenok family. They had invited me to stay before
catching the train to Moscow.
The next day I received a phone call from Chris who was in Bucharest. 'Hi,
Tim. Can't talk long. I am afraid the visa hasn't arrived in the mail.'
I had mailed his Russian visa two weeks ago and presumed it had arrived.
Everything hinged on that bit of paper. If it didn't show up, it would be at least
another six weeks before I could get him a new one. Without any control over the
situation, all I could do was wait in Petrozavodsk until the visa showed up and
Chris could get to Moscow.
On the upside, this would give me a bit more time to rest, reflect on the past and
gather my thoughts for the journey ahead.
———
There was no single moment in which the idea to cycle across Russia began. It was
more a blur of emotions and events. Quite simply, a series of chance meetings, spe-
cial relationships, spontaneous decisions and hard work led me to this point. Dur-
ing my childhood in country Victoria I had spent considerable time in the outdoors:
surfing, kayaking, skiing and bushwalking with my father. Even so, I could never
have predicted winding up on this journey.
If I had to pick a starting point, it was probably when I was fifteen. While play-
ing basketball at school, my left femur snapped clean in half in a freak accident.
