World's longest bike

Of course it is an Ural. Nadya found this link on the net. I met Oleg in Tver.

http://fishki.net/comment.php?id=15082

Doug Wothke

Just a quick note.

You can now reach Doug Wothke's webpage via www.guzzidoug.net

22-10-2006

I awake early enough to take a photo of the sun rising over my tent. A beautiful sight. I pack up and head for the Ukrainian-Polish border. Oh, how I long to be in Europe again. The downside of using a major highway are the long queues at the border. This crossing is no different. Procedures here are more streamlined however and beside a retarded Ukrainian customs officer that cannot believe that I am not smuggling anything out of the country, all goes well leaving Ukraine. The officer wants to check all my luggage, but does not really do a thorough search. He keeps asking if I have weapons of any kind, historical objects or drugs. I have to disappoint him. He cannot believe that I have been travelling in Russia without a weapon or that I did not buy one to bring one home. Well anyway, there is nothing he can 'confiscate'. I doubt that he will officially confiscate anything, he will probably used it for his own benefit. Yes, my apologies if I seem a bit harsh at jumping to conclusions, but I do not trust anybody in uniform in Russia or Ukraine. In any case the lovely lady at the Polish border is a sight for sore eyes. Just a check of my documents and the customs guy has a quick look at the luggage in my sidecar. "Welcome to Poland" they say and I am free to enter the country. I could have cried for joy, this is the first time they actually welcome me to a country. I also feel welcome and love the European look of the towns and villages. The E40 is a good road here and the bad spots are soon to be a thing of the past as road construction is ongoing all over the place. Speed limits are generally observed and pedestrians can cross a zebra without fearing for their lives. Sidewalks are perfect and everything just makes me love the European Union. What a great Union we live in. The sun is going down and I find a nice spot in the Polish fields.

21-10-2006

Early in the morning Cyril comes to escort me to the city limits, but first he and his wife take me around Kyiv to see the sights. It is a grey day so the views over the city are limited, but Cyril is a great guide and manages to make it interesting nevertheless. He also takes me to the KMZ, the Dnepr motorcycle factory. Everybody I have asked tells me the factory is practically finished. They only occasionally produce anything and the quality is bad. Dneprs are not a frequent sight here. While taking pictures in front of the factory, a woman comes out of the factory and tells us that we cannot take any pictures here. Cyril is as amazed as I am and tells her to call the cops if it is really that big a problem. There is a Dnepr museum, but the unfriendly reception just now and the fact that I prefer Ural keep me from paying a visit (and probably rather high admittance fee). Once at the city limits I thank Cyril and his wife for the great tour of this huge city (about 50kms from end to end). Luck has it that my planned route to Poland is under construction and of poor quality, so I decide to follow the E40 from Kiev to Poland. From Poland the E40 runs all the way to Dresden, Germany. The E40 also runs through Belgium. It is our major highway from the capital (Brussels) to the coast. It is kind of funny to be riding on the E40 so far away from Belgium ... well, it is funny to me. The quality of this highway is actually OK, just the occasional bad spot. I was quite surprised. The weather has been great since I reached Kyiv: nice and warm. So I decide to camp again. Around dusk I get off the highway to find a nice secluded spot ... in the middle of a Ukrainian field. Soft rolling hills seclude me from view in the middle of this vast field. It is a special experience, I like it very much and watch the stars for a while.

20-10-2006

Kyiv

I have an early start and even forget to have the breakfast that was included in the hotel room. So far I have been unable to find anything that sets Ukraine apart from Russia. The stairs also have the bizarre 'odd' step. Most of the time, the first step is a little lower and the last step is a bit higher. It can be the other way round, but that is less frequent. This is normal in Russia ... and apparently also in Ukraine. (check the photo)
The last 50kms of the road to the M1 are under construction, so all traffic has to divert over local roads. Naturally the diversion is only indicated on the main road. After that it is every man for himself. Eventually I reach the Kyiv city limits and while looking for a good place to make a phone call, I spot a biker in the opposing traffic. This is a rare sight, so I take it slow to let him catch up. Indeed, he catches up to me and introduces himself as Cyril. My darling Nadya has been in contact with the Ukrainian biker community and has notified them of my arrival. I am surprised to meet him here, but it safes the trouble of the phone call. Cyril's English is amazing. He could pass for an Englishman. He is an English teacher. He is a good guy. He takes me to the local biker hangout and I meet some other bikers. Cyril is meanwhile occupied with finding a place for me to sleep. After some coffee, Sasha shows up. He will be my host for the night. He will go on my buddy seat to take me to his place. We do not get far however ... I have a flat tire.
My first flat of the entire trip! The tire was almost completely worn out anyway and I have a new spare ready, so it was just a minor set back.
We arrive at his apartment and have diner. He and his wife have a nice apartment. Their cat just had eye surgery, so it was a funny sight to see it walking around with a lamp shade around her neck. The sofa/bed in the kitchen was very comfortable.

19-10-2006

Yelets - Ukraine

The main road from Yelets to Aryol (Orel) is the one I follow up to Zmyevka. There I can follow local roads that will lead me to Trosna and the highway that will take me to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk. Following the highway to Aryol would be a detour. Local roads scare me a bit: they are usually in a bad state and road signs are mainly absent. This local road was no exception and I did some extra kilometres going back and forth trying to find the right road. I did manage to find it in the end. The highway from Trosna to Ukraine via Zheleznogorsk is a straight line on the map and continues well into Ukraine up to about 80kms from Kyiv. By the way, you can't say Kiev anymore. That is the Russian pronunciation. The Ukrainian government is working hard to become buddies with the EU. Hence all that is Russian is bad. Also the way we pronounce the name of their capital. So not Kiev, but Kyiv.
The road from Trosna to Ukraine turned out to be crap all the way. Pardon my French, but I have no other words to describe this road. It is bad, bad, bad. It was really getting on my nerves. The absence of any distraction whatsoever makes it all the more bad. It is really just a straight road all the way to the M1 in Ukraine. About 300kms. Is it to keep Russians from travelling to Ukraine or vice versa ... I have no clue. I learn later that most people choose to go via Belarus because of the bad quality of this road. I cannot go via Belarus, I have no visa. Ukraine is free to visit by Europeans.
Well, what exactly does free mean? The Ukrainian border guards are not inclined to let you pass for free. It already started at the first checkpoint. You need to fill in a small form to start the procedure. The, at first, friendly Ukrainian border guard offered to fill it in for me as I do not really write perfect Ukrainian. Before actually starting to write anything he asked if I might not ,by any chance, have a present for him ... some money for example. I thought I maybe misunderstood, but when I realized he was serious I just laughed and said no. His friendly appearance was gone instantly and I was free to fill out the form myself. I had hoped the corruption would stop in Russia, but I had no such luck.

By the way, to go back in time a bit, my exit from Russia was a test for my nerves too. Just before the border checkpoint, I was given the last Russian present and it will be one I will remember for a long time. They were repairing the bad road and had the usual signs put up like "work in progress, go slow". The sun was already low, so the sun was reflecting on the road for the last half hour. Because of this I did not notice that the construction strip was freshly coated with tar. When I noticed the truck spraying the tar I knew enough: this tar was not cold enough yet to stick to the road. Indeed, my Ural now has a perfect undercoating of tar. You will see this in the photo. I have not washed my Ural since leaving Belgium, so I hope the base coat of dirt will sort of make it easier for me to wash off the tar. It's all part of the adventure and it does make the bike look 'ridden', so I did not waste one tear over this slight mishap. Also to my consolation I noticed a shiny new Chrysler 300M that now featured a two-tone paint job of metallic grey and black tar from the door handles down. That is worse I guess.
Passing the Russian border was actually pretty easy up to the point where they wanted to see the last pictures I made with my camera. All of a sudden this KGB officer is summoned and he wants to see all my pictures. Yes, all my pictures ... about 600-700MB. I am slightly pissed off. God forbid I would have any pictures with me that would jeopardize the security of the State. Interesting side note: the forbidden and secret town of Seversk near Tomsk is clearly visible on Google Earth. You can find the coordinates on Wikipedia. Silly people ... the KGB does not exist anymore, they just have a different name now. Anyway, he escorts me, my camera and laptop to his office and starts looking. I think he by now realizes that this is crazy and just looks at the first ones and copies some pictures from Dresden. He asks all sorts of questions about my trip, but mostly about my budget. We talk a bit and I get the feeling he is just curious about Europe. He wants to make a trip there. I guess leaving Russia is still a dream for the majority and reality for a few. Anyway, we are not in there really long and I can go on my way. By now all my papers are checked and I am good to go. One last look east and I say goodbye to Russia.

Where were we? Oh yes, Ukraine. My first experience with Ukraine is a border guard asking for money to help me out. Great. To my luck the small form is in English too, so I manage to get it filled in properly after the third try and the border guard sends me on to the next stop. News spread fast and the officers are glad to see me. I hand them my documents and am instructed to park my motorcycle on the side as this will take long. My documents disappear and I wait for further instructions. After standing there for a while I enquire what I need to do now, but nobody is really helpful. They only (want) to speak Russian or Ukrainian. Eventually they tell me I have to fill in the customs declaration form. This document is only available in Russian and Ukrainian. I have problems believing this, but they assure me they do not have it in English. Beside my name, nationality and passport number I cannot understand what the paper says. Of course they offer to help, but help is not for free. I refuse to give them anything. I am starting to get really aggravated, but my mind is made up: they are not getting one kopeka from me. I just inform them I do not write in Russian or Ukrainian and that they should help me. They just stand there and ignore me. I know this game. I just wait. They cannot keep me here forever. I am not hungry or thirsty so I can keep this up for a while. I have the phone number for the Belgian embassy in Ukraine, so if I am still here by morning I will give them a call. In the end, the waiting game is the tactic to follow. Once they realize you have all the time in the world and are not willing to give them any 'presents', they will help you. Somehow 'helping' is not the correct word here. So after an hour or two a guy comes up and fills in the declaration with the required data. After that it still takes an hour for the 'stamp jockey' to finish all the red tape involved. Once I have everything in order they let me go without even checking my luggage. It is already late, so I check into the first hotel I encounter. I bought insurance and exchanged my last Rubles before I crossed the border. By the way, the road here is just as crappy as in Russia. Welcome to Ukraine.

15-16-17-18 - 10 - 2006

15-10 Chelyabinsk - Ufa

Crossing the Ural mountains here is totally different from the pass in the north near Ekatarinburg. The Ural mountains here are indeed more serious mountains. Not as impressive as the Altay, but definitely a mountain range. Somewhere in the middle you have a monument that indicates the border between Europe and Asia. They do not have this on the road from Perm to Ekatarinburg. There is one really high mountain pass you have to cross here. Needless to say it had some snow on it. I was sort of expecting really warmer temperatures once I crossed the Ural. No such luck. Temperature was +2 during the day and minus at night.

16-10 Ufa - Samara

The big cities are a days ride apart. About 400 to 500 kms. I make good time. The roads are not good, but not really bad, yet demand constant attention. The landscape is nice. Ever since I crossed the Urals, forests consist of not only birch trees and the sight of some evergreen trees is a nice change. Autumn is still in full swing here. Only a few persistent leaves still cling to the trees. In my imagination I was expecting the land behind the Ural mountains to be warm and lush and still unaware of the approaching winter. Silly me.

17-10 Samara - Penza

Nothing spectacular to report. I am still spending nights in gastinitsas. It is just a bit too cold for the tent. Well not really too cold, but I just like the ease and comfort of hotels. No sign of snow though and it has not rained since Irbit.

18-10 Penza - Elets

My last day in Russia, tomorrow I should be in Ukraine. For the rest nothing spectacular, just endless roads.

14-10-2006

Irbit - Ekatarinburg - Chelyabinsk

After breakfast Seryosha shows up to take me to the hangar. I start getting ready for take off. Vasili, his wife and two guys I met at the birthday party yesterday show up in a small OKA. They will escort me to the city limits. Vasili also gives me 2 liters of juice for the road. Russians like to give. Seryosha gives me a waterproof coat. One of those oversized Russian chemical warfare coats. He does not have a lot of confidence in my Rev'it waterproof riding suit. I must actually agree, nothing beats this coat, the only problem is that it does not 'breathe' like our modern waterproof gear. I will never leave home without this anymore.
I say goodbye to Seryosha and thank him. I cannot help but feel silly as nothing I can do or say will ever repay what he did for me. The rest of the gang somehow manage to get back in the little car and take me to the city limits where we take one last photo. Saying goodbye has now become a little bit different for me. I am heading for the Russian border. The end of my trip is nearing. I am leaving. I will probably not be back here for a while, maybe never. Don't get me wrong, I will be back to see Nadya that is for sure, but will I ever really visit Russia again with a motorcycle? I want to, but will I be able to? The goodbyes are now more serious. It might even be my last meet with bikers in Russia. I will probably not stay with Russian bikers anymore. It is just a different feeling I have now when saying goodbye.
Anyway, when I leave Irbit it is raining a bit. The clouds are sometimes dark around me while I ride to Ekatarinburg, but it stays relatively dry.
In Ekatarinburg, Nadya has contacted a biker named Artyum. He will be waiting for me near the city. Vasili has also contacted him to give more specific info on my arrival time. When I reach Ekatarinburg, I spot him and pull over. Nadya wants me to spend the night here, but I want to go on. My schedule is pretty tight and I want to get across the Urals as soon as possible. It is too cold here and they are expecting snow for tomorrow. Artyum offers me to spend the night at his place, but however much I like to meet with bikers, I refuse politely and inform him of my reasons. He and his wife talk to me for a bit, take some pictures and escort me to the road that will take me to Chelyabinsk. I thank him for his trouble and we say goodbye. I head for Chelyabinsk on the double, but have to make a stop. The guys that installed my engine in my motorcycle did not do a good job on synchronizing my carbs. They did not retighten the screws and so my synchronization is way off. This minor set back does not prevent me from reaching a nice hotel just outside of Chelyabinsk at a reasonable hour. I check in and have a good nights sleep.

13-10-2006

Irbit

Around 9am Seryosha shows up and escorts me to the factory. The workers have already started to have a look at my motorcycle. We have coffee and talk until the TV-crew shows up for my interview. Seryosha is impressed by my knowledge of the Russian language and tells the interviewing lady that we do not need an interpreter. I was not prepared for this, but what to do. I do not know how, but I managed to pull off my first interview in Russian. It must probably be something like the famous Jean-Marie Pfaff interview by the German TV. Anyway, I know by now how these interviews work: they will just cut and paste and make up some stuff to fill in the blanks to make something interesting for people to watch between commercials. My interview in Tomsk mentions that I have a wife and some motorcycle magazine has an article that says I have a girl in Perm. Nadya is an intelligent girl and knows better.

As soon as the interview is over I notice the workers looking at me and shaking their heads … the end of the road, they say. They motion me to take a look at my left cylinder. They have taken off the cylinder housing to expose the piston and crank gear. There appears to be some play in the bearing connecting the piston arm to the crankshaft. Not good indeed. Seryosha tells the men to take the engine into the factory to the engine department where they can take it apart and replace what is necessary. I have no time as the newspaper guy has shown up. Seryosha ushers me and the interviewer into his office and we do the interview. Once that is over we go back downstairs to take some pictures. It is not easy to pose on a motorcycle with a loose seat, loose gas tank and the engine missing, but the guy manages to snap some shots from and angle that will disguise this minor problem. In any case he will be able to fill the paper some more. Seryosha and I have a quick coffee and go into the factory to check how my engine is doing. About 5 workers are occupied with my engine. Among them a guy named Andrey who, according to the computer they have there, was the one that assembled my engine. It is great to see these men in action. It doesn’t take long for them to take the engine apart. In the process of reassembling they put in: a new crankshaft and piston arms; new pistons and piston rings; new seals and rubbers all over; new clutch; new teeth ring on the flywheel for the starter; and a new filter and new oil. Seryosha is there to keep everybody working as we are pressed for time. I keep saying that I will stay in Irbit as long as necessary, but Seryosha says everything will be okay by the end of the day. On the other hand, it is Friday today and I doubt the workers will come in over the weekend to help out a crazy Belgian. Anyway it is around 5pm when they can put the engine into the test station. They fire it up and the operator checks everything including power output. All is good except for the noise of the alternator. To make a long story short they hook up the original alternator to the new type of adapter to make the noise go away. They load up the engine and take it back to the workshop. There they have already installed: new springs on all shocks; a new sidecar drive shaft; new jerry can holder; new air filter box; new hoses for fuel, air and vacuum; new spare wheel and tire; new instrument cluster for “high-low” beam; and a new clutch control lever. They also checked and fixed: the sidecar bearing problem; the sidecar drive engagement lever; and increased the angle of my motorcycle in relation to the sidecar as my right cylinder was hitting the sidecar frame.

The bill for all of this was handed to Seryosha who neatly folded it a couple of times and put it in his pocket. I was not to worry about it and it was never mentioned again. I guess he will arrange it with the general director.

It was already getting late in the day. Before leaving the factory I of course had to meet the general director. So Seryosha escorted me to his office. The factory director and French designer were also there. I shook hands with all of them and thanked the general director and factory director for their help and hospitality. We talked a bit about my trip and the motorcycle and they were proud, but still a bit amazed. The general director gave me another pin to add to my collection. It was an honour for me to be in Irbit and get this marvellous reception. A big thank you to all involved.

The only thing I will have to live with for the rest of my life is the fact that I did not have my camera with me. Shame on me. I regret this very much as it was interesting to see the people in action. One also does not frequently have the opportunity to take a picture of your disassembled engine spread out across a table in the Irbit Motorcycle Plant. I forgot my camera in Vasili’s home and when I realized it was not with me Vasili had already left for work. In any case, I have the memories.

Once the work on my Ural was done, Seryosha stuffed one unused spring in my sidecar, a new oil filter and the old rubber hoses from my air filter box. I was good to go.

I started up my motorcycle and Seryosha got in his car to take me to a different location to store the bike overnight. In a hangar in the old part of the factory, my Ural was safely left for the night next to the Ural racing team vans.

As I was getting ready to get into Seryosha’s older Audi, we had a funny situation. Seryosha was on the phone and I motioned him to open the rear door. The doors of the Audi have to be opened from the inside, the outside door handles don’t work anymore. Well, they work, but need a strong Russian hand to open. For us westerners, they are broken. Anyway, the rear door opens and I put my backpack in the back. I close the door and try to open the front door. Of course it is stuck. Seryosha was still busy on the phone and quit paying attention to me a long time ago. He figured I was sitting in the back and took off while I was trying to open the front passenger door. It was already dark so he did not see me waving my arms like a mad man. I was not really panicking, but I was a bit worried to be left alone in this dark and dismal area that will remind many a person of the movie ‘Stalingrad’. About 300 meters further he realised I was not in the car and was flabbergasted. But as soon as he saw me approaching and I explained the situation we both had to laugh. He apologized, but there was no harm done, it was a very funny situation.

Seryosha took me to Vasili’s, but invited me to go with him and spend the night at his place. This is not the first time that I am caught in the middle of two people fighting over where I should stay. Well, it is not really a fight, but it is an uncomfortable situation for me. I like Vasili’s place, but would also like to stay at Seryosha’s because of all he has done for me. But it would not be polite to leave Vasili. In the end I manage to explain and all is good: I stay with Vasili. Seryosha will meet me in the morning to take me to the bike.

Vasili and his family are heading to a birthday party and of course I have to come along. When we get there, the party is already well underway and vodka and beer is generously poured. They also introduce me to a new beverage: samagon. This is a home made alcoholic beverage that resembles vodka. The only problem is that it can be really strong, so just to check they try to set it on fire. Luckily for me it does not burn, so it is under 50% alcohol content. They think it is safe to drink and since I am a guest, I cannot refuse. We have fun and laughs and I manage to leave without actually being too drunk. It was fun. The birthday boy gives me a flask filled with samagon to take along with me. I can take a sip whenever I feel cold, they tell me. Thank you for the gift.

I spend the night at Vasili’s one last time.