694
IZhmoroz - Winter Dalnoboy
How to arrange an adventure if there is no money, and the bulk of time? Take an ordinary long-haul routes ... Well, let's say, from Barnaul to Ryazan. And we do it in the winter. Few? Making it to the Soviet equipment. For example, "IL" "Planet 5»
"I am going in the winter to" begotten »,
Frostbitten face and the ... »
January 2011
Originally I planned to run the winter in the mountains of Altai. But in the process decided that if "Izhikov" pull, the SOCA it home. For prohvatit the mountains was reduced to the status of the test, and the main goal was to achieve Ryazan. In the mountains we were going together with Andrei "Gringo", and I had to Ryazan blame alone.
In the mountains we rode for four consecutive days. In the process he made useful conclusions on the list and placing equipment into the carriage, and the EKIP as a whole. Almost all of the technical work that it was possible to carry out in the field, I conducted independently, and supervised the Gringo, cursing my slowness and lack of knowledge of terminology. Driving habits, too, sometimes fire, entering into an image harmful geezer mentor. However, its efforts have not been in vain - to return to Barnaul I am quite confident rulila kolyasychem and was ready to further achievements.
After returning a little more than a day, and I started in the first independent winter mileage. Before Novosibirsk - 230 km. The road is flat, little machines, sometimes minor congestion in towns and places of road repair. "Izhikov" pёr its 80-90 km / h, sometimes podbuksovyvaya clutch. As a result, daylight was in Novosibirsk, where the sheltered, fed and heated. The next day I looked at the clutch cover and ... stuck for three days - leading drives erased almost zero. Novosibirsk - a hospitable city, so let just did not want to, so the morning of the fourth day I was alone, "sly" to get out on the road M-51.
Twenty kilometers out of town I was stopped by traffic police. Motor "IgE" stalled, and when you try to start it, Kick foot swung "came" into the battery compartment. I've been kicked kick and spent gas burner to warm up the engine, until you could see that the lamp is not lit on tidy. It turned out, broke off the frosted in the cold terminal of "weight" on the battery. I thought and built up its signal from the wire. And who is beeping me on this bucket of bolts?
Closer to the Chulym fingers began to freeze. And not just as well as the hoo! Until the complete insensitivity. She stopped near the cafe and found the torn wire heated grips. Apparently, Novosibirsk crooked put the tank. While I pretended to solutions, fingers began to thaw. What do you know about pain? When you re-emerge fingers, you will learn everything about it. I had to go to a cafe and think a head. Between times ran into some guy asked who on a motorcycle moving ofigel seeing the fragile me, wished me luck and fled.
I rummaged in gear and pulled out two pieces of skin silver fox and chemical disposable heating pad. Applying this to the gloves, get a complete working structure.
The M-51 I love. Straight as an arrow, she half dissecting huge plain covered with sparse birch. Summer - a huge green space in the winter - light blue, reflecting the sky like water. The branches of birch white, almost silver. The trigger until it stops (IL still more than 80 km / h are not rushing), and you go, thinking about her until sunset, when the snow becomes blue and scarlet, and the ball of the sun - a huge, orange - slowly falls for a low shrub. Pulls to stop and drink plenty of beauty, but the thought that more would have to tumble under the stars and inferior lights, makes picking up speed again.
Barabinsk advised me Gringo hotel "Lanta" (although there is still the other is not). For "IgE" I found a warm box for me - a room and dinner. Waking up early, I made a twist - Heating handles reappeared. But soon there was another problem: "IL" began abruptly jerks lose momentum and guzzle gasoline. Okay, I get to civilization, we will understand.
Overtaking barely creeping tanker crossed a solid. By the time I had almost no brakes - become loose foot back and front - from birth lousy. I was happily jumped policeman ... poor fellow had run after me all the braking distance. "Turn around and drove up, we will draw up a report," - he said and left. I tried to turn around and got stuck on the slope. Ten minutes and Rod motorcycle skidded frantically cursing (but myself giggling). Traffic cops have not sustained, approached the car and asked not to swear and helped pull kolyasych. I sat in the car, explained that with such brakes or overtake, or truck. I asked where I was going, adding that go there have no rights. She said that I was going to Chelyabinsk. They were silent. And then one could not stand, he sighed and said, "Olezhka, give papers, went to work ... I can not look at it longer!».
Over 150 km of Omsk lunch at a roadside inn. Meet listlessly, looking with a mixture of surprise and disapproval, saying that "it is necessary, the people have nothing to do!". Interested in where convenience. Answer: "In the courtyard ...". And in a strange looking with interest. I go out into the yard and see - check the severity. "Comfort" - a brick building of the "labyrinth" with no windows and doors, but with the natural pyramids and yellow ice on the floor. Chill dog: -35S. To go even so syak and put out profiles of Equipo warm ... But my back is drilled views from the windows. Feeling Theseus, hiding behind walls, a few minutes contemplate one of the "pyramids", and then go out, tugging at his jacket. My departure was seen off by the whole tavern - stood in the doorway, looking, noses froze. Mysterious Siberian soul ...
In Omsk I have met friends Gringo, herded "IgE" in the garage and went to drink and socialize. The ultimatum stated that tomorrow I'm not going anywhere. The next day, adjusted the clutch, put the ignition. In the morning I started before dawn, but before leaving the city and did not get. She returned to the garage, wake hangover mechanics, who have found that covered his right bearing of the crankshaft. Replacing him - it is the day, but due to all the stops time lost, and the next day I have to be at work. I agree willful decision - leave "IL" in Omsk and get on the train to Moscow, with the firm intention to return next winter and continue running. A year to pump up the materiel for sovkotsiklam mechanics in general and in particular. After 2366 km, I realized - the motorcycle mysticism does not happen. There are unrecorded and unknown factors structure nodes.
January 2012
Omsk. Friday, the 13th. The two of us - me and the co-pilot and photographer Alex "Coyote." "IL" overdue transit and without insurance. Two backpack laid them on the wheelchair, on a thermometer acceptable -18C. Started terribly, but Leszek already in the passenger seat. Remembering how to steer the tricycle miracle had on the go. They came from Omsk and immediately caught gaytsam. I tried not to notice them, so pursued with flashing lights. I had to return to the post, write a report for transit.
Behind the wheel of the heat - plus heated handles some no exercise. Leszek A freeze in the cradle. After 200 km invited him to sit behind the wheel, he agreed. Earlier Lyoshka was "Dnepr", so a true boxer he enthusiastically jumped on the fragile izhachy Kick ... and broke it. Sadly posozertsat wreckage, somehow pushed aside and went to the nearest hotel to Tyukalinsk. Duma is not easy - you can not back, forward turns out badly. In the morning start the motorcycle with the cold pusher has failed. Fortunately, he stopped "gazelero" that not only we pulled, but also explained how to get to the store motozapchastey. I go on the road, and I immediately undermined by a police car. I stop. "Wilderness!" - Says. "I can not!" - And points to the broken kick. Thank the gods stopped us Gaetz-pomogaets. Away from me right, I drove by car to the store, saw to it that I bought and returned the rights only when he saw that everything is all right - kick, light and motor. And even helped start the engine, but we quickly left.
Tyumen region - a place of stunning. The heart of Western Siberia, the essence of it. Leszek did not see him obmerz visor. And I admire the series of gentle pale blue hills. Snow on them so clean that takes the color blue. Sometimes silvery stripe on the horizon nestled hoarfrost forests, and huge clouds are like pattern china cup. Everything here is good but expensive. Potholes my knee height near the wagon jumping, waving trailers, passenger cars rush ... Hustle and mortal danger. In Lyoshka visor already thawed.
In the evening we again changed the wheel, and the second pilot successfully brought the device to Yalutorovsk, where we once again caught gaytsy. We now have a protocol: Leszek can not drive, "IgE" is not to take out insurance. There we waited for food, shelter and World aunt Svetlana, wife Gena "travelers". Evening held for spiritual conversation, and in the morning we were fed cheese and hit the road.
The road to Chelyabinsk boring. Behind the wheel of Leszek, "IL" kilometers chews slowly, but persistently. The co-pilot held on to the last drop of gasoline to a single filling and we were replaced at the helm. Closer to the city began hills and woods. Approaches to Chelyabinsk rich pockets of space-time: you go an hour and a half and follow the signs read that before the city almost more than it was. In the "capital of the severity of" I rode so exhausted careless approach to geography.
Chelyabinsk we met Roma "Hochuha" and Alex "Lisey." To ride them around town to "begotten" - this is extreme. Leszek in a wheelchair ate harnesses booty ... and I have his, frankly, bite. Roma put us in a house under construction. Cool, calm ... the whole evening with the local bikers chatted, drank wine, smiled and exhaled. And the next day we grazed through the city. We took pictures at the zero kilometer of the Chelyabinsk region, walked on Kirovka (Chelyabinsk Arbat). "Coming to the Snow Dogs?» - Asked Romka. We thought and nodded.
In the morning we very revealing factories, -22S. Romkin "Lancer" demanded a new candle and battery, our "IL" - choke and three kicks Kick. Still, I love domestic appliances!
Away from Chelyabinsk gaytsy not hindered, and waved to follow and showed thumbs.
Plain - a plain, mountains - mountains. Before us the Urals. Here begins a different attitude to the gear ratios. We then crept up on the first or second gear, then pushed the bike to the top of the rise, changing the wheel every half hour for as nerves were frayed. But stubbornly climbed and crawled forward. There were good moments - roadside cafe pleased plates borscht capacity of each one helmet.
Adventure of the day was "Buddhist barrier." When we shipped through Urengoi, Leszek lost control of the bike and rode through the snowdrifts to the opposite side of the road. A mystery to me as it was physically possible - there was no acceleration or braking, no contact with the fence. Oncoming motorists helped remove "IgE" of snow. A breath, looked around, and there it is, the solution: on the contrary a lot of trees with ribbons on the branches. It turns out that here a place of worship ancestral spirits. A traveler on the road is in a completely different reality than mere mortals. And in it he could neatly rearranged in the snow with a motorcycle - not to forget to honor. We, however, are not tied to a branch ribbon, and ... that was found. I hope not offended spirits.
We spent the night in the heart of the Urals, in the town of Satka. We sheltered Andrew "Ledon." Together with him we were met by the local press, which gave interviews and even take a ride in a wheelchair - it was a joy! In the evening the same SATCOM came Valera "smack" Oleg Maximov, who were returning from Yamburg to run a few days ago and dug his teeth into a fresh venison in the middle of the tundra. Fierce envy and great respect!
In the morning went on. Ledon showed us the way through Bashkiria - a little longer than that portion M5, but more gentle and without a string of wagons. We really passed it without incident, and I tried not to show it, that I have no idea where to go. Close to the M5 was caught in the frame is a wonderful monument of the "Russia and Bashkiria together forever." Bashkir it sounds like "Mango Berge" and firmly sinks into the brain.
In the meantime, the mountain over, and began a series of descents and climbs smaller, which like the stairs, was a direct route. The impending darkness we passed Ufa and stayed at UTEP. It is the right place for truckers has everything - parking, hotel, room, dining room and warm repair boxing. In the winter better than you can imagine.
For two days we went to the side of Togliatti through the steppes with hellish side wind, ups and downs. By the way is most appropriate definition of "wrinkled". As a sheet or skin shar-pei. In the evening of the first day was erased clutch cable, and after a morning bike repair generally refused to start. Mystery ... Miraculously found Gadget Unscrew the capacitor ignition - for three hours and kilos of nerve cells. Having bought in the general store a spare cable and candles have gone further. Well, what other techniques you find parts in the general store? Grandmother at the shop asked: "How much is the bike?". Yes, it is priceless, grannies!
Closer to Togliatti attended the feeling that going to a part of a very stretched motokaravana - occasionally see someone on a motorcycle, too, goes in the same direction. Before reaching the city, they turn on a tip from the Internet. Going some woods, "IL" stalled in the snow, bumps circle the night. Climbed into the incredible jungle on the banks of the Volga ... and then meet us out of the darkness it was taxiing "Gazelle", and in it Pavlovich of Kovrov, Romka "Welder" and a lot of people. "Uncle, take us out of here!" They loaded "IgE" and went in Togliatti. And there zucchini "Blue Melon" - beer, music, socializing ...
"Snow Dogs" at this time was glamor - the stadium in the city center. Arrived on a motorcycle was little. In the police and security was a sorry sight - the poor man honestly trying to understand who is equally self-confident and businesslike guys in vests spectator, and who - party. We're able to pretend that there is not just! For example, I cheekily stalled right in front of the gate to the paddock, and then ran up and began to help Kovrov roll ... Racing kolyasychey, however, did not - feared for grip.
Because of the venue on the "dog" it was not very comfortable. Reflex Workers Stadium - drive all the stands and will not let anyone, so all the time necessary to look businesslike and not be just. Either someone to chat, or somewhere to go (preferably with a wrench at the ready). Especially aggravated "stadium reflex" the guard when the competition began unimoto. We waited Lesco first arrivals at the bar, drinking beer and listening to the commentator who Toastmasters without reducing enthusiasm from 11:00 to 18:00. In the evening when people are left broke and scored on the protection of what is happening, we Dima "Apollo" standing on a snowdrift in the middle of the stadium and shared their impressions, how to get one. He rolled from Barnaul to "Ural" and brought with him another half-Urals in the stroller. At the bottom was the uncle of the local and explained to us that we - assholes. What are we, to mutual satisfaction, agreed. On a circle worn kolyasychi and around them - Leszek eye over his camera lens. I even ceased to be ashamed of, that dragged him along to a cold into a kind of distance.
Before awarding we doterpeli. Affected road, the nerves and the general atmosphere - neither the campfire to sit or drink properly. I started pepelats and maneuvering between trailers with unimoto, rolled out of the stadium. On the way back we stopped Gaetz, but only admire and let me go.
The next morning we woke up the next day, leaving things in the carriage and turned the rubber in the side of the house. Two days of four hundred a day made without incident.
Summing up the trip, I can say, prepared by IL passes thousands of kilometers with minimal damage. Repair kit fits into waistcoat pockets, and only what you need to follow - is an electrician. Well, the main thing - do not despair, if not traveling. The reasons may be only two: either there is nothing to burn, incinerate or nothing. I gained a lot of new friends, positive sea and a keen desire to continue the winter runs. They are very special gusto, not comparable with the summer pokatushkami - feel like a real hero, not just a bum on three wheels. Thank you to everyone who supported and helped. Go for a drive in the winter, people! It really tempers the spirit!
This is the last post.
Actors:
Agatha (Nancy) Bobylev - author of the text and photo
Alex (Coyote) Meleshin - Photo
Source: mail.ru
Source:
"I am going in the winter to" begotten »,
Frostbitten face and the ... »
January 2011
Originally I planned to run the winter in the mountains of Altai. But in the process decided that if "Izhikov" pull, the SOCA it home. For prohvatit the mountains was reduced to the status of the test, and the main goal was to achieve Ryazan. In the mountains we were going together with Andrei "Gringo", and I had to Ryazan blame alone.
In the mountains we rode for four consecutive days. In the process he made useful conclusions on the list and placing equipment into the carriage, and the EKIP as a whole. Almost all of the technical work that it was possible to carry out in the field, I conducted independently, and supervised the Gringo, cursing my slowness and lack of knowledge of terminology. Driving habits, too, sometimes fire, entering into an image harmful geezer mentor. However, its efforts have not been in vain - to return to Barnaul I am quite confident rulila kolyasychem and was ready to further achievements.
After returning a little more than a day, and I started in the first independent winter mileage. Before Novosibirsk - 230 km. The road is flat, little machines, sometimes minor congestion in towns and places of road repair. "Izhikov" pёr its 80-90 km / h, sometimes podbuksovyvaya clutch. As a result, daylight was in Novosibirsk, where the sheltered, fed and heated. The next day I looked at the clutch cover and ... stuck for three days - leading drives erased almost zero. Novosibirsk - a hospitable city, so let just did not want to, so the morning of the fourth day I was alone, "sly" to get out on the road M-51.
Twenty kilometers out of town I was stopped by traffic police. Motor "IgE" stalled, and when you try to start it, Kick foot swung "came" into the battery compartment. I've been kicked kick and spent gas burner to warm up the engine, until you could see that the lamp is not lit on tidy. It turned out, broke off the frosted in the cold terminal of "weight" on the battery. I thought and built up its signal from the wire. And who is beeping me on this bucket of bolts?
Closer to the Chulym fingers began to freeze. And not just as well as the hoo! Until the complete insensitivity. She stopped near the cafe and found the torn wire heated grips. Apparently, Novosibirsk crooked put the tank. While I pretended to solutions, fingers began to thaw. What do you know about pain? When you re-emerge fingers, you will learn everything about it. I had to go to a cafe and think a head. Between times ran into some guy asked who on a motorcycle moving ofigel seeing the fragile me, wished me luck and fled.
I rummaged in gear and pulled out two pieces of skin silver fox and chemical disposable heating pad. Applying this to the gloves, get a complete working structure.
The M-51 I love. Straight as an arrow, she half dissecting huge plain covered with sparse birch. Summer - a huge green space in the winter - light blue, reflecting the sky like water. The branches of birch white, almost silver. The trigger until it stops (IL still more than 80 km / h are not rushing), and you go, thinking about her until sunset, when the snow becomes blue and scarlet, and the ball of the sun - a huge, orange - slowly falls for a low shrub. Pulls to stop and drink plenty of beauty, but the thought that more would have to tumble under the stars and inferior lights, makes picking up speed again.
Barabinsk advised me Gringo hotel "Lanta" (although there is still the other is not). For "IgE" I found a warm box for me - a room and dinner. Waking up early, I made a twist - Heating handles reappeared. But soon there was another problem: "IL" began abruptly jerks lose momentum and guzzle gasoline. Okay, I get to civilization, we will understand.
Overtaking barely creeping tanker crossed a solid. By the time I had almost no brakes - become loose foot back and front - from birth lousy. I was happily jumped policeman ... poor fellow had run after me all the braking distance. "Turn around and drove up, we will draw up a report," - he said and left. I tried to turn around and got stuck on the slope. Ten minutes and Rod motorcycle skidded frantically cursing (but myself giggling). Traffic cops have not sustained, approached the car and asked not to swear and helped pull kolyasych. I sat in the car, explained that with such brakes or overtake, or truck. I asked where I was going, adding that go there have no rights. She said that I was going to Chelyabinsk. They were silent. And then one could not stand, he sighed and said, "Olezhka, give papers, went to work ... I can not look at it longer!».
Over 150 km of Omsk lunch at a roadside inn. Meet listlessly, looking with a mixture of surprise and disapproval, saying that "it is necessary, the people have nothing to do!". Interested in where convenience. Answer: "In the courtyard ...". And in a strange looking with interest. I go out into the yard and see - check the severity. "Comfort" - a brick building of the "labyrinth" with no windows and doors, but with the natural pyramids and yellow ice on the floor. Chill dog: -35S. To go even so syak and put out profiles of Equipo warm ... But my back is drilled views from the windows. Feeling Theseus, hiding behind walls, a few minutes contemplate one of the "pyramids", and then go out, tugging at his jacket. My departure was seen off by the whole tavern - stood in the doorway, looking, noses froze. Mysterious Siberian soul ...
In Omsk I have met friends Gringo, herded "IgE" in the garage and went to drink and socialize. The ultimatum stated that tomorrow I'm not going anywhere. The next day, adjusted the clutch, put the ignition. In the morning I started before dawn, but before leaving the city and did not get. She returned to the garage, wake hangover mechanics, who have found that covered his right bearing of the crankshaft. Replacing him - it is the day, but due to all the stops time lost, and the next day I have to be at work. I agree willful decision - leave "IL" in Omsk and get on the train to Moscow, with the firm intention to return next winter and continue running. A year to pump up the materiel for sovkotsiklam mechanics in general and in particular. After 2366 km, I realized - the motorcycle mysticism does not happen. There are unrecorded and unknown factors structure nodes.
January 2012
Omsk. Friday, the 13th. The two of us - me and the co-pilot and photographer Alex "Coyote." "IL" overdue transit and without insurance. Two backpack laid them on the wheelchair, on a thermometer acceptable -18C. Started terribly, but Leszek already in the passenger seat. Remembering how to steer the tricycle miracle had on the go. They came from Omsk and immediately caught gaytsam. I tried not to notice them, so pursued with flashing lights. I had to return to the post, write a report for transit.
Behind the wheel of the heat - plus heated handles some no exercise. Leszek A freeze in the cradle. After 200 km invited him to sit behind the wheel, he agreed. Earlier Lyoshka was "Dnepr", so a true boxer he enthusiastically jumped on the fragile izhachy Kick ... and broke it. Sadly posozertsat wreckage, somehow pushed aside and went to the nearest hotel to Tyukalinsk. Duma is not easy - you can not back, forward turns out badly. In the morning start the motorcycle with the cold pusher has failed. Fortunately, he stopped "gazelero" that not only we pulled, but also explained how to get to the store motozapchastey. I go on the road, and I immediately undermined by a police car. I stop. "Wilderness!" - Says. "I can not!" - And points to the broken kick. Thank the gods stopped us Gaetz-pomogaets. Away from me right, I drove by car to the store, saw to it that I bought and returned the rights only when he saw that everything is all right - kick, light and motor. And even helped start the engine, but we quickly left.
Tyumen region - a place of stunning. The heart of Western Siberia, the essence of it. Leszek did not see him obmerz visor. And I admire the series of gentle pale blue hills. Snow on them so clean that takes the color blue. Sometimes silvery stripe on the horizon nestled hoarfrost forests, and huge clouds are like pattern china cup. Everything here is good but expensive. Potholes my knee height near the wagon jumping, waving trailers, passenger cars rush ... Hustle and mortal danger. In Lyoshka visor already thawed.
In the evening we again changed the wheel, and the second pilot successfully brought the device to Yalutorovsk, where we once again caught gaytsy. We now have a protocol: Leszek can not drive, "IgE" is not to take out insurance. There we waited for food, shelter and World aunt Svetlana, wife Gena "travelers". Evening held for spiritual conversation, and in the morning we were fed cheese and hit the road.
The road to Chelyabinsk boring. Behind the wheel of Leszek, "IL" kilometers chews slowly, but persistently. The co-pilot held on to the last drop of gasoline to a single filling and we were replaced at the helm. Closer to the city began hills and woods. Approaches to Chelyabinsk rich pockets of space-time: you go an hour and a half and follow the signs read that before the city almost more than it was. In the "capital of the severity of" I rode so exhausted careless approach to geography.
Chelyabinsk we met Roma "Hochuha" and Alex "Lisey." To ride them around town to "begotten" - this is extreme. Leszek in a wheelchair ate harnesses booty ... and I have his, frankly, bite. Roma put us in a house under construction. Cool, calm ... the whole evening with the local bikers chatted, drank wine, smiled and exhaled. And the next day we grazed through the city. We took pictures at the zero kilometer of the Chelyabinsk region, walked on Kirovka (Chelyabinsk Arbat). "Coming to the Snow Dogs?» - Asked Romka. We thought and nodded.
In the morning we very revealing factories, -22S. Romkin "Lancer" demanded a new candle and battery, our "IL" - choke and three kicks Kick. Still, I love domestic appliances!
Away from Chelyabinsk gaytsy not hindered, and waved to follow and showed thumbs.
Plain - a plain, mountains - mountains. Before us the Urals. Here begins a different attitude to the gear ratios. We then crept up on the first or second gear, then pushed the bike to the top of the rise, changing the wheel every half hour for as nerves were frayed. But stubbornly climbed and crawled forward. There were good moments - roadside cafe pleased plates borscht capacity of each one helmet.
Adventure of the day was "Buddhist barrier." When we shipped through Urengoi, Leszek lost control of the bike and rode through the snowdrifts to the opposite side of the road. A mystery to me as it was physically possible - there was no acceleration or braking, no contact with the fence. Oncoming motorists helped remove "IgE" of snow. A breath, looked around, and there it is, the solution: on the contrary a lot of trees with ribbons on the branches. It turns out that here a place of worship ancestral spirits. A traveler on the road is in a completely different reality than mere mortals. And in it he could neatly rearranged in the snow with a motorcycle - not to forget to honor. We, however, are not tied to a branch ribbon, and ... that was found. I hope not offended spirits.
We spent the night in the heart of the Urals, in the town of Satka. We sheltered Andrew "Ledon." Together with him we were met by the local press, which gave interviews and even take a ride in a wheelchair - it was a joy! In the evening the same SATCOM came Valera "smack" Oleg Maximov, who were returning from Yamburg to run a few days ago and dug his teeth into a fresh venison in the middle of the tundra. Fierce envy and great respect!
In the morning went on. Ledon showed us the way through Bashkiria - a little longer than that portion M5, but more gentle and without a string of wagons. We really passed it without incident, and I tried not to show it, that I have no idea where to go. Close to the M5 was caught in the frame is a wonderful monument of the "Russia and Bashkiria together forever." Bashkir it sounds like "Mango Berge" and firmly sinks into the brain.
In the meantime, the mountain over, and began a series of descents and climbs smaller, which like the stairs, was a direct route. The impending darkness we passed Ufa and stayed at UTEP. It is the right place for truckers has everything - parking, hotel, room, dining room and warm repair boxing. In the winter better than you can imagine.
For two days we went to the side of Togliatti through the steppes with hellish side wind, ups and downs. By the way is most appropriate definition of "wrinkled". As a sheet or skin shar-pei. In the evening of the first day was erased clutch cable, and after a morning bike repair generally refused to start. Mystery ... Miraculously found Gadget Unscrew the capacitor ignition - for three hours and kilos of nerve cells. Having bought in the general store a spare cable and candles have gone further. Well, what other techniques you find parts in the general store? Grandmother at the shop asked: "How much is the bike?". Yes, it is priceless, grannies!
Closer to Togliatti attended the feeling that going to a part of a very stretched motokaravana - occasionally see someone on a motorcycle, too, goes in the same direction. Before reaching the city, they turn on a tip from the Internet. Going some woods, "IL" stalled in the snow, bumps circle the night. Climbed into the incredible jungle on the banks of the Volga ... and then meet us out of the darkness it was taxiing "Gazelle", and in it Pavlovich of Kovrov, Romka "Welder" and a lot of people. "Uncle, take us out of here!" They loaded "IgE" and went in Togliatti. And there zucchini "Blue Melon" - beer, music, socializing ...
"Snow Dogs" at this time was glamor - the stadium in the city center. Arrived on a motorcycle was little. In the police and security was a sorry sight - the poor man honestly trying to understand who is equally self-confident and businesslike guys in vests spectator, and who - party. We're able to pretend that there is not just! For example, I cheekily stalled right in front of the gate to the paddock, and then ran up and began to help Kovrov roll ... Racing kolyasychey, however, did not - feared for grip.
Because of the venue on the "dog" it was not very comfortable. Reflex Workers Stadium - drive all the stands and will not let anyone, so all the time necessary to look businesslike and not be just. Either someone to chat, or somewhere to go (preferably with a wrench at the ready). Especially aggravated "stadium reflex" the guard when the competition began unimoto. We waited Lesco first arrivals at the bar, drinking beer and listening to the commentator who Toastmasters without reducing enthusiasm from 11:00 to 18:00. In the evening when people are left broke and scored on the protection of what is happening, we Dima "Apollo" standing on a snowdrift in the middle of the stadium and shared their impressions, how to get one. He rolled from Barnaul to "Ural" and brought with him another half-Urals in the stroller. At the bottom was the uncle of the local and explained to us that we - assholes. What are we, to mutual satisfaction, agreed. On a circle worn kolyasychi and around them - Leszek eye over his camera lens. I even ceased to be ashamed of, that dragged him along to a cold into a kind of distance.
Before awarding we doterpeli. Affected road, the nerves and the general atmosphere - neither the campfire to sit or drink properly. I started pepelats and maneuvering between trailers with unimoto, rolled out of the stadium. On the way back we stopped Gaetz, but only admire and let me go.
The next morning we woke up the next day, leaving things in the carriage and turned the rubber in the side of the house. Two days of four hundred a day made without incident.
Summing up the trip, I can say, prepared by IL passes thousands of kilometers with minimal damage. Repair kit fits into waistcoat pockets, and only what you need to follow - is an electrician. Well, the main thing - do not despair, if not traveling. The reasons may be only two: either there is nothing to burn, incinerate or nothing. I gained a lot of new friends, positive sea and a keen desire to continue the winter runs. They are very special gusto, not comparable with the summer pokatushkami - feel like a real hero, not just a bum on three wheels. Thank you to everyone who supported and helped. Go for a drive in the winter, people! It really tempers the spirit!
This is the last post.
Actors:
Agatha (Nancy) Bobylev - author of the text and photo
Alex (Coyote) Meleshin - Photo
Source: mail.ru
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