Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The Altai Mountains
Late Summer 2000
———
Chris
The sun was down and the lights of Ulan Ude had long since faded behind us. The
fire in Tim's eyes, however, was still burning bright.
'That bastard!' he exclaimed. 'That absolute little bastard. I can't believe the
way he wouldn't take no for a fucking answer!' He simmered for a moment,
and the polite, well-dressed Russian lady sitting on the seat beside him discretely
inched a little further away. 'The way that he bloody well told me that I should
think about it. Fuck!' He thumped his fist into the upholstery. 'I've got nothing
against gays or anything, but I came closer to punching that little bastard than I've
ever been to hitting anyone in my life!' Tim closed his eyes. 'You'd better do the
talking when we go back there again, mate. If he tries to come onto me again …'
I had no real idea of what was going on until we boarded the train and Tim told
me about the incident.
'It's all right. Just forget about the guy for a month and lose yourself up there in
the mountains. We'll go back, I'll do the talking, we'll grab our bikes and leave …
Unless, that is …'
Tim looked at me incredulously. 'What?'
'Unless, of course, you feel like taking him up on his offer of getting all his
friends around and having a big
banya
party?'
Tim was in no mood to appreciate my joke.
'Get stuffed mate! When we get back we're going to grab our bikes and leave
straightaway.'
The clicking wheels of the train marked the time. Three days in transit merged
steadily into one as we rode ever westwards. I sat huddled against the window in
a sullen, watchful mood, as roads and tracks flashed past outside. Tim and I had
