Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
me that there is no mountain too high or weather too hostile - it is simply the
way things are. In the end you are forced to be true to yourself, and the important
things really become clear. There is no point lying to nature because it won't listen.
Furthermore, once you step outside cities and roads, money is meaningless. On
the alpine plains a CEO could shoulder up alongside a factory worker and neither
would be advantaged.
Realistically, the experience in Altai reinforced the notion that it's important to
look after nature, and keep areas of wilderness even in an advanced world. It didn't
mean cities should be obliterated. In some ways, the state of the earth could also
reflect the state of human health. Getting out and experiencing nature could be pro-
moted as a way of balancing city life. As a source of solitude and replenishment of
the human spirit I know of nothing better.
But what of the guilt I felt sometimes as a 'wealthy' westerner passing through
Russia? Was it really escapism? Perhaps, but only if I returned to Australia and
forgot what I had learned. I remembered the message I had read in countless moun-
taineering topics: 'We don't go to the summits to escape, but so that when we come
down we can live a better life in civilisation.' As long as I could apply what I
learned from our adventure to life at home, then it would have all been worth it.
Rather than feeling guilty, it was probably better to understand how privileged
I was. I had the opportunity to live a healthy life in the city, and the resources to
visit the wilderness and foreign places. In short, I had the freedom to appreciate the
advantages of many different environments and ways of living.
———
'Should I get the
banya
fired up?' someone from behind me said. I cringed. We
were at a bus stop in Ulan Ude, waiting for transport to the place where we had left
the bikes. By some coincidence Misha, our Buryatian friend, had seen us on his
way to work. I had had a month to forget about the unfortunate experience in the
banya
, but suddenly it all came back.
After some rushed, much-needed repairs to the bikes in Misha's yard, we
wobbled out of Ulan Ude and into the setting sun.
I hadn't been on the bike for a month, and the sudden flurry of air enlivened my
senses. The days of stagnation on the train vanished, leaving behind an ability to
think more clearly. Even as we slipped out of the city we were setting our sights on
the next goal - reaching Ulaan Baatar in Mongolia. There remained 350 kilometres
to the border and a further 450 to the Mongolian capital.
