Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Ekaterinburg - Omsk
Late Spring 2000
———
Chris
I woke to a glorious sense of space and freedom. The dawn sunlight filtered down
through low branches and around gnarled trunks to dance orange on the cover of
my sleeping bag. I gazed lazily from one side of the tent to the other. On a sudden
impulse, I stretched my hands and feet to the corners of the tent.
I laughed like a kid - all this space for me! I sat up and looked out through the
mosquito mesh of the window. Propped up against a tree stood my bike - alone -
and nearby, a small fireplace with a few leftover bits of wood from the night be-
fore. No Tim! Not a sign of him. Not anywhere! I stuffed my sleeping bag into its
nylon shell and climbed out of bed.
There were, for the moment, both good and bad points about his absence. Good:
well, all this room for me; and a welcome break, probably for both of us, from the
growing frustrations. Bad: we'd been planning to ride into Ekaterinburg today; and
finding each other might now take up a good part of the morning. More than likely,
he'd simply missed my flag by the roadside and ended up making camp further
along.
Of course, it was always possible that something bad had happened to him: an
accident, kidnapping, or maybe even the elusive Mafia that everyone kept warning
us about. But then, these were dangers that we had to live with and as long as they
didn't happen, they didn't bear worrying about.
I surveyed the space around me once again and felt the stirring of a temptation
to prolong the time alone. On the other hand, we were in this together, for better or
for worse, and it wouldn't do to seriously lose each other.
Besides, I thought, as I pulled down the tent, I'm hungry and he has all the
breakfast supplies.
