Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Yesterday had been an all-day slog into a freezing wet wind. Tim had struggled,
but late in the afternoon I'd had a burst of energy and had left him at a roadside
café while I pedalled on to look for a spot to camp. As we often did, I left a signal
by the roadside to mark the place where I turned off. Then I wheeled my bike into
the forest and started collecting firewood, expecting Tim to join me within half an
hour.
Now, as I pushed my bike back to the road and noticed that my fluorescent or-
ange flag was still there, wedged into a section of aluminium crash barrier. It was
hanging near the edge of the road at what would have been Tim's head height.
I retrieved the flag and pushed off, expecting to find his camp a little way down
the road. But twenty kilometres further, there was no sign of him. I waved down a
few cars but no one had seen him. I got worried. There was no way he could have
come this far last night. I turned back to scan the road more carefully around the
potential turnoffs and camp sites.
I'd cycled halfway back to my original camp site when I finally spotted him rid-
ing towards me. He'd had warning from a driver that I was coming and we met up
in good spirits, joking and catching up on the night's adventures. The good feelings
didn't last long, however. He had decided that the mix-up was my fault.
'You have to put your flag somewhere where I can't miss it, Chris!' he said,
stonily. 'This is the second time this has happened and it's a bloody big pain in the
arse!'
He was referring, of course, to the night when we'd lost each other outside of
Babushkina the previous year. That, admittedly, had been my fault. But this time I
felt things were a little different.
We both spent the morning simmering but, by the afternoon, tensions subsided
below the surface. Later that day, we reached the very top of the Ural mountain
range. A small marker by the roadside told us that geographically, if not politically,
we were on the verge of crossing from Europe into the subcontinent of Asia. That,
we decided, was something to feel proud of.
I sat on the divide and surveyed the scene before us. The lights of Ekaterinburg
twinkled in the half dark and the forested plains stretched to the horizon beyond.
We pushed off and sped down the long hill - out of the mountains and into Siberia.
———
I looked through the window in the guard tower and saw Tim gesticulating from
the other side of a high, razor-wire security fence. With me were two guards. They
