Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The reflection of the moon on the stream had replaced the sun by the time I
crawled into the tent. As usual I slid into the sleeping bag and rolled over so that I
had my back to Chris.
'Good night, mate,' he murmured
'Good night.'
———
The following morning we awoke to the sound of heavy rain beating down on the
tent. 'Oh, shit,' Chris mumbled, before nodding back to sleep.
Two hours later we lay awake, hungry; the rain was relentless. Resigned to the
fact that it was going to be dismal riding, we packed up and headed for the road.
To our surprise the wet sand made for easier going. So, like the rain, we settled in
for a full day.
The view of the road ahead was alluring. It cut a mud-red swathe through the
motley green, rising and dipping as it trailed into the distance. The rain fell from
clouds so low that the taller trees appeared to be decapitated. Although we still fol-
lowed the
BAM
, the tracks were out of view. Now and then the rumble of a train
could be heard from deep within the forest.
We were going fast enough to keep things interesting, but slow enough to ob-
serve the landscape. In the swampy river valleys I took note of the craggy firs and
spruce, draped in rich mosses and lichen. On higher ground, I kept an eye out for
the so-called 'Siberian cedars' that were actually a variety of pine. If I looked hard
enough I could just make out the bulging cones that were ripe with nuts. These nuts
were a Siberian delicacy that, in the late summer and autumn, took over from sun-
flower seeds as a snack.
For a while the world shrank to the rattle of my bike, the movement of my legs,
and the limited view from my tightly drawn jacket hood.
We huddled under a rickety old bridge for lunch as the rain bucketed down.
Chris looked like a drowned rat as he chomped away on a cheese and tomato sand-
wich. His toes stuck out from the gaping holes at the end of his shoes; my runners
were no better. There were so many holes that from above I could see more foot
than shoe.
The road turned into a roughly sealed surface. We passed through a village that
was built into the hillside of a steep, bowl-shaped river valley. Just beyond, three
wet bedraggled babushkas were returning from a day of picking redcurrants and
mushrooms. They chuckled and shook their heads when they saw us.
