The dreaded day .... entering Russia

Woke to a overcast sky, which by the time I checked out, was actually light rain ....

Highest point on the pass - 2300 mts.

Stopped to take a few pics amongst the clouds, then descended from the high point of the pass to the valley below where I would meet Jeremy again.

The sun was hinting at coming out.

The old tunnels have been supreceeded by a road running parallel to them ...

... but you can still ride thru ... eerie !

Regrouped, we rode the last of the Georgian Military Highway, to the Russian border, and the legendary queues.  And 15 km from the border, the lorries waited patiently, while at least the cars (& bikes) shot past.  I really felt for these truckers ... it's not a nice job at the best of times, but to be stuck here for days on end, just because of the incredible inefficiency at the border.  My heart went out to them.

The lorry queue - like Operation Stack in the UK.

Within 5km of the border, the road enters a sequence of tunnels, at which point overtaking is impossible as the tunnel is physically only wide enough for 2 vehicles ... so we joined the back of the queue, as "British Gentlemen" do....

But not the Russians ... suddenly about 4-5 cars shot past us and into the tunnel, completely oblivious to what the consequences of meeting an oncoming vehicle would be.  At that point, I changed nationalities .... "Follow me" I shouted to Jeremy and tucked in behind the last car, fingers on the brakes.

All well, until the inevitable happened, and the cars we were following met oncoming traffic in the tunnel, and it was gridlock.  Nobody would let these cars in, and effectively we all were blocking the entrance to Georgia... it got nasty at the front, cars pushing each other, then contact ... drivers all out, photos, shouting ... we just kept our heads down and as soon as the fracas subsided, shot ahead again.

I learned a few Russian swear words that morning (from the drivers stuck in the queue), but undaunted we carried on, until .... well, to continue would have been suicidal.  Re-joined the queue a lot closer thinking it was the best we could achieve.  I would have waited there until some sexy Russian girl in black leathers, riding a sports bike, alone, pulled up from behind.  She gave us a smile, as if to say, Follow me, boys.  That was all the encouragement I needed, so dodging the oncoming vehicles by riding up kerbs and through lay-bys, we followed until our panniers prevented us from squeezing through the last dozen so cars to get to the front, and to say thanks, of course !

And there we waited .... for about an hour ! That was their processing speed .... about 12 vehicles/hour.  I can't do the maths, but a 5 km line of cars, 12 per hour .... those poor buggers at the back probably had a 2-3 day wait.

So, we confront the immigration first ... seemed to go OK, until one asked me for money ... turned out he was just collecting coins from different countries, so I gave him 20 pence (10 baht) just for being pleasant.

Then there was the customs ... fill out a form (in Russian) but at least there was a translation on a notice board.  We did our best, oh but then, fill another one the same as they need two copies.... I suspect there would be a good market here for a photocopy machine salesman if anyone is inclined to forward on this lead.

So that's another hour, and finally we are on our way ... about 3 hours all told ... just thank God/Buddha, I ride a motorcycle !  Just more more little wait ... insurance.

We had heard it was not available at the border, and the scam was the police would pull you for a document check, before you had a chance to get any. I'm pleased to confirm this little lady was open.

Lada's everywhere.

And into Russia ... well, it was drizzling rain all day, flat, boring, with a lot of traffic.  I took the lead and setting a brisk pace came to three lanes, controlled by a single red light above the middle one ... the road layout and marking implied you could filter through the most right lane (or was it a bus stop).

Anyway, clearly you could not as the five Policemen that pulled us down the road confirmed.

The humble pie approach failed me on this occasion and I after relieving myself & Jeremy of our passports, I was marched off for, what I though was a bollocking.

Grim country, grim weather.

Of course, its Russia, so lets call it more of a "negotiation".  They started at £120, but eventually I got them down to £30 each ... they seemed to take delight in burning the "ticket" in front of me, and the enthusiastic wave from them as we left, probably meant I paid over the odds.

Say what you want, 5 coppers, with guns, and attitude ... the odds were always going to be in their favour !

We rode on, as opposed to cracked on... Yup, we were now the only people in Russia sticking to speed limits and obeying signs.  Must have been overtaken by 500 trucks & cars that afternoon !

Both went for the pasta.

But as a pleasant end to the day, I had stumbled upon a nice new hotel, and once we were past the poor attitude of Boris & Tatanya on reception, the rooms were great, and the evening meal in the restaurant, superb.

A good nights sleep, and with the weatherman saying no rain tomorrow, what more can go wrong ?