Tver - Solnichnogorsk

I have learned from www.horizonsunlimited.com that there is a great biker community in Tver. Along the road to Tver I spotted a couple of Russian bikers on the side of the road. They seemed to be having some problems with a bike so I turned around to see if I could be of some assistance. These guys were bikers from Tver. I was able to help them out with a towing rope. Yes, they were going to tow a broken down solo bike with another solo bike. I have never been witness to this before. But in Russia I tend to see a lot of things that are out of the ordinary. We made our way to Oleg’s garage. This is the HQ for the Tver bikers. Nemets spoke very good English and he sort of interpreted for the evening. My Ural had an oil change and new filter. I met a lot of people there and after the work, food was produced and we drank some vodka. We talked about the trip, about bikes and about Russia. It was a lot of fun. All were impressed with the new Ural and my plans. Oleg Lebedev is a great guy. He spoke no English (only "drink, drink") and I just a little Russian but we got along just fine. He gave me the oil as a gift. Also the leftover Vodka was for me: for those long Siberian roads. My Ural got some nice stickers. I spent the night at his place, but I don’t know where he slept as he left me alone in his flat.

The next day Oleg and Maksim picked me up and took me out to lunch. Along the way we visited Oleg Rogov. This man has built the longest motorcycle on the planet. It is an official World Record. Of course it is powered by an Ural engine. Oleg Rogov also rode from Tver to Vladivostok and back on a scooter. The scooter was also standing there. He must be an amazing man, but the language barrier was obstructing a decent conversation.

We went back to the garage as I want to get going. They couldn’t believe that I was travelling without a cell phone. This was an issue for them, so they bought me one. Can you believe that? They bought me a cell phone. Now that I have it I realize that it was indeed foolish of me to leave without one. It is so much easier to get in touch or be reached by other bikers. I am incredibly grateful to Oleg, Nemets, Maksim and the rest of the gang. I should have stayed a bit longer. Oleg contacts the Ural dealer in Moscow to tell them about my plans. I should call them once I reach Moscow, to see if they can meet me somewhere. I said my goodbyes to the Tver bikers and went of. Maksim escorted me to the edge of the city. He is a good guy.

On my way to Moscow I stopped in Solnichnogorsk to let the sun dry me a bit since I had had some rain along the way. I snap a couple of pictures and all of a sudden a man on a Ural combination (motorcycle with sidecar) spots me and turns around to meet me. This is Victor, about 50 years old, but a true Ural biker. No English, but he insists I follow him to visit his home and sleep there. He escorts me to a street full of garages. We meet his good friend who is 70. I cannot remember his name. Please forgive me. Victor’s son made himself a custom Ural, a very nice machine indeed. They give me a cup of tea and I use my Russian travellers dictionary to make some conversation. Nobody speaks any other language but Russian. We get along fine. My motorcycle is stored securely in a garage for the night and I am dragged to the grocery store. Victor and his good friend make me choose whatever I like. They also grab some vodka and beer. Not one ruble leaves my pocket and we go to the flat of Victor’s friend. It is here that I will spend the night. His son is in Ekatarinburg, serving in the army. We gather around the small kitchen table and the newly bought food is consumed. We have many toasts and although it is slow, we are able to communicate pretty well. They are all happy to see me. This is Russian hospitality. We have a lot of laughs and I show them the route of my trip. We talk about Belgium and family. It was amazing. Victor’s friend gets by on a 100 dollar pension and I drive around on a motorcycle that for him costs a fortune. It was an eye opener for me.

In the morning we have breakfast and I let Victor drive my motorcycle to the highway. He is ecstatic and grateful. I should be the one who is grateful. And believe me, I am. I have Victor’s address and phone number. I will send him a postcard once I reach Vladivostok and I hope to send him some more stuff once I am back in Belgium.

We have a saying in Belgium: he who gives what he has, is worthy to be alive. These people spent money on a complete stranger when they have barely enough to come by themselves. How do you return a favor like that?