Hello (Privet in Russian). We are in Siberia! Again, I apologise that the blogs have been a bit behind, but as you might already know, we made it to Magadan on the evening of 24th August! We are totally exhausted, but totally elated at the same time. It’s been a long olde few weeks…… After saying goodbye to Mongolia and crossing the border on Monday 11th August we drove north towards a Siberian town called Ulan Ude (not far from Baikal which we would be visiting in a few weeks time on the journey home). From the border we were greeted by perfect tarmac, road signs and infrastructure. Dirt tracks (for now) were a thing of the past. We arrived successfully in Ulan Ude late that evening and kept our eyes peeled for a hotel as we wanted to register our presence in Russia. Our understanding of the ‘rules’ was that registration was required if you were spending more than 7 working days in the same province. Technically (therefore), we didn’t need to register, but we wanted to err on the side of caution in case we were fined at the border by some dodgy border guard. It was better to be safe than sorry. We drove through Ulan Ude (a bustling modern looking city) during the late Monday evening rush hour which was highly stressful for Ed, so we sacked off looking for a hotel in town and spotted one on the outskirts. The receptionist inside had Mongolian features and of course she couldn’t understand a word we were saying, while trying to explain we wanted a room, ‘only’ if she could register us. She kindly however, called a friend who could speak English and passed the phone to Ed. Subsequently it transpired that she wasn’t allowed to register us and we had to go to a larger hotel, perplexing us immensely…. It was getting late, so we kindly asked her if we could spend the night in the car park and she agreed, (in the end) not charging us a penny. The following morning we left Ulan Ude before 7am, driving once more through the city centre looking for a hotel. A one way system and very busy roads (even so early in the morning) made it a difficult place to navigate and so we decided to try our luck in the next Siberian town called Chita, located some 650km away to the east. The scenery for the next two days comprised rolling pastures and pretty rivers punctuated by rustic villages filled with dark timber framed houses. The sun shone warmly since the minute we crossed the border and unexpectedly it was hot (at least 25 degrees Celsius!) and not how we had imagined Siberia at all. Forests of mixed coniferous and deciduous trees occasionally lined the roads and we spotted predominantly silver birch, willow and mountain ash growing side by side with the conifers. Near the small towns and villages men worked the fields by hand, cutting the hay with scythes and loading up rickety old tractors in the warm sunshine and in the gardens of the pretty wooden homes, crops of potatoes and sunflowers were neatly arranged in well kept allotments and giant piles of wood were being chopped and stacked in preparation for the winter. As in Mongolia (and many of the Central Asian countries we had visited), livestock roamed the streets freely and it always caused us amusement (cows are mostly to blame) when they refused to get out of the road. The landscape had a serenity and peacefulness about it and it was lovely. Along the sides of the roads we also spotted people bending among the shrubs where the forest receded from the road, and realised they were foraging for blueberries. Sadly, we never got round to stopping and picking any ourselves…. Possibly on the way back when we had more time. That evening we spent the night away from the main road hiding down a forest track. The air smelled strongly of pine and the sun glimmered through the trees. It was a lovely evening and we were very content to be in Siberia. So far it had been a very pleasant experience indeed. On Wednesday 13th August we arrived in Chita by late afternoon, and managed to park a few kilometres out of town which allowed us to explore potential hotels on foot. Unbeknown to us however, we had lost two hours since leaving Mongolia and were now GMT+9hrs ahead. Chita was a pleasant city and felt more modern and bustling than Ulan Ude. We walked down a hill and into the town centre which comprised a large square with landscaped gardens flanked by large smart Government buildings in the Renaissance style. The sun shone warmly, but we could see dark clouds rolling in from the east as we walked up the steps of a posh looking hotel (Mont Blanc). It was a huge hotel and located right in the centre of town, so hopes of registration were high (as well as a bath!). It turned out the hotel would register us, but they were very busy and wanted £123 (eqv.) for a room! It was a bit steep, so Ed started to haggle (no doubt using his beard to distract them). Hilariously no word of English was spoken (as we would expect) but somehow we managed to communicate with the two ladies at the desk for more than 20 minutes using the receptionist’s iPad and Google Translate. They were very kind and explained that the hotel was almost fully booked, pointing at the stacks of Chinese passports (that also required processing for registration). Finally they conceded to offer us a room for half the price if we agreed to only occupy it for only 12hrs (from 8pm until 8am). It was already 7pm by this time, so we agreed. Sadly however, we had to walk two and a half miles back to the truck to get our migration slips (given to us at the border) as we didn’t realise we would need them to register…. On the trot back to the truck the dark clouds caught up with us and the heavens opened. We got absolutely drenched….. Finally by 10pm we checked into the room (looking like drowned rats) and Ed decided he thought it was best if he returned to the truck just in case it was broken into during the night. I wasn’t happy letting him go alone, but to all intents and purposes we had to stay at the hotel to be registered and the receptionist promised to return our passports when we checked out the following morning. Needless to say, I took advantage of the bath, hot water and free Wifi while Ed slinked out of the hotel un-noticed, and in heroic style returned to the truck on his lonesome (which incidentally we had parked outside a graveyard)…. Because we had lost 2hrs the previous day, we actually had to check out at 6am (our time). Subsequently Ed arrived at 7.15am (5.15am eqv.) and we checked out – registered passports in hand (and with a pair of complimentary slippers that I had pilfered from the room). That morning we frequented the Beeline Offices and sorted out our mobile internet dongle before continuing east to Magadan. Ed had checked the distance and we had roughly more than 5,000km from Chita to our final destination. It was going to be a long slog. On the night of 14th August we parked in a beautiful meadow full of golden grass and wild flowers and all day we had marvelled at the colours of Siberia on show in late summer. Almost everywhere we spotted pretty pink balsam which had seeded in the hot sunshine and filled the pastures with a stunning magenta hue alongside beautiful fluffy grasses and flame-red shrubs. It was lovely. For a time we had also driven alongside the Trans Siberian Railway and spotted trains mostly pulling endless carriage after carriage of what looked like oil and/or chemicals (and very few passenger trains). It was great to see such an iconic landmark of Russia and Siberia however, and it certainly put a smile on Ed’s face. The following day (August 15th), it was Ed’s 33rd birthday. :p xxxx We got on the road early and stopped at a pretty stream where I made Ed a birthday full English breakfast, and I suggested we take it easy and do something nice, but all Ed wanted for his birthday was to drive through Siberia…. He was easily pleased and was eager to get the miles in to Magadan. Similarly, we were conscious of the fact that summer in Siberia was coming to an end and apparently there is no autumn here, someone flicks a switch and then suddenly its winter. Having said that, as we drove further east, we noticed the nights getting considerably cooler and morning mists started to appear rising from the forests and it certainly began to feel a bit autumnal. On the 15th we also received a text from Jeroen (heading the Dutch Campereis Convoy that we had met previously in Western Kazakhstan and then in Kyrgyzstan). Jeroen’s message indicated that he was one day ahead of us and he was eager to know where we were, and suggested we convoy to Magadan with him. All things considered, Ed and I agreed that this was a very sensible idea as Ed had no idea what the roads would be like the closer we got to Magadan and most importantly he was desperate to drive (even a small section) of the ‘Old Summer Road’, part of the original ‘Road of Bones’ which we had heard was currently impassable. Jeroen’s huge MAN truck would be able to pull us out if we got stuck in the Siberian mud and equally we could provide him with the same security. Also one of Jeroen’s party (Virginia) spoke fluent Russian which meant we could give up our flamboyant hand gestures when trying to communicate with the locals. We decided to catch up with them as best we could. By late afternoon the scenery changed to pointed mountains carpeted in mixed deciduous woodland and all other views diminished. One thing we had noticed however, was that the Siberian forest appeared to be in a cycle of burning (purging) and regeneration. Occasionally large swathes of tall lifeless tree trucks would flank the roads and spread up the mountain sides. They looked all spindly like thousands of giant matchsticks and gave the landscape an oppressive eerie feel. That night we parked down a forestry track just off the main road and as luck would have it, we had a full mobile signal and so Ed managed to get online and read all of his birthday messages (on FB and by text). Ed: ‘Big hugs for all my lovely birthday messages’. On Saturday 16th we continued east towards the junction where the M58 (our current road) met the M56 (the road north to Yakutsk). The Siberian sun was shining potently once more and by late afternoon we had arrived on the Kolyma Highway (M56). It was a real landmark for Ed and to reach it was a huge achievement and milestone of the trip. We were now well on our way to Magadan and the Road of Bones (or so we thought….). Sadly, the road from the M58/M56 junction to Yakutsk was utterly horrendous and our progressed slowed considerably. The Kolyma Highway was under construction and about 90% of it comprised an ungraded gravel surface full of undulations and worst still…. The dust! Every time a vehicle passed or overtook us there was a total white out and we chocked and sputtered depressingly, hour after painful hour. Evidently it hadn’t rained for a while and now we longed for ‘just a little bit of rain’ to dampen down the dusty road. For two and a half gruelling days our bones rattled and our backs and necks ached as we slowly trundled (at a measley 20mph) along one of the worst roads of the trip so far. It was more than 1,200km(!!!) to Yakutsk, and on 18th August we put in a 14 hour long driving day on this horrendous road in an attempt to catch up with the Dutch. What made the experience even more challenging (apart from the dust and the constant bone rattling), was that the only views out of the window for two and a half days were of thick forest lining the road (and the trees were covered in ugly brown mud and dust). It was mentally and physically tough and in the backs of our minds we knew we would have to do it ALL again on the return journey home, as there was only one road to Yakutsk. It didn’t bear thinking about at the moment. Finally at 10pm we arrived in time to watch the sunset over the river Lena and rejoiced as the worst road in the world dissolved into featherlike tarmac on the approach to Yakutsk. And there awaiting us, alongside the river bank were the two remaining vehicles of the Dutch convoy parked opposite the Lena (in the Yakutsk Ferry Car Park). To say we were happy to see them was an understatement. Stiff and extremely tired we hopped out to greet Jeroen, Yolande, Virginia and Angeline and we spent a few minutes greeting them (whilst being mullered by mosquitoes) before dragging our fatigued souls and battered bodies to bed. The world was a much nicer place after Yakutsk. The following day (Tuesday 19th) we had all agreed to leave early as everyone was anxious to get to Magadan while the weather remained dry and warm. We were under no illusions that we were in Siberia and that the summer could end in the blink of an eye which would leave us in a real pickle. The Road of Bones officially starts north of Yakutsk and Ed was totally excited to finally be driving on it. It is called the Road of Bones because legend has it (now confirmed) that the bodies of deceased Gulag prisoners were interred into the road during its construction from the 1930’s (originally under the orders of Joseph Stalin). The prisoners were largely ordinary educated people who posed (in Stalin’s view), a potential political threat to his Communist regime. Teachers, poets, scientists, artists and philosophers, they were normal peaceful human beings and their sentence was one of brutality, hardship and starvation. Their purpose (once sent to the Gulags) was to construct the road from Yakutsk to Magadan and to work in the platinum and gold mines until their bodies gave in to sickness, fatigue and the harsh Siberian winter. In the sunshine however, we tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery. The thick Siberian forests of the previous few days had now receded to reveal wonderful golden hay fields, rustic Russian villages and stunningly pretty lakes. The land definitely began to glow with the colours of autumn with the silver birches alongside the road decaying to bright yellows and even the conifers (possibly larch) to dark bronze and reds. Horses waded in the cool waters and curious cows crossed the road, and all the while the Siberian sun shone through the truck window. It was pleasant indeed. At lunchtime we followed the Dutch convoy, stopping at a small café to eat. It was a sweet little place with several wooden picnic-style benches covered in table cloths and with lace curtains hovering over the windows. Virginia ordered the food and Ed and I tucked into meatballs, plov and some wonderful salads (day I say it!). By late afternoon we finally arrived at the banks of the River Aldan. The river was enormous and the only way to cross it was by ferry boat. Subsequently for the first time during our trip (excluding the boat from Dover to Calais) the truck got its sea legs on…. Hehe. All three of our vehicles squeezed on to the ferry (we got on last) and at first it didn’t look like there was enough room. How wrong we were however, as the ferry boat wouldn’t leave the shore until it was completely full. Over the course of an hour we waited for more vehicles to turn up and only after two Uaz’s (which look like old fashioned VW campers) and two small cars squeezed on, were we finally allowed to set off. The evening sunshine was wonderful and it was lovely to watch Siberia drift by with a warm breeze on our faces. The river sparkled in the sunlight and the banks were lined with sandy beaches flanked by the Siberian Taiga (coniferous woodland). We kept our eyes peeled to the shore (for bears) and simply enjoyed the 1.5hr boat ride from the top deck. The truck was perfectly happy having a well deserved rest, as was Ed after the recent relentless driving. We chatted merrily to Jeroen, Jolande, Virginia and Angeline and the time flew by. Eventually the port town of Khandyga appeared before us and it was time to exit the boat (and pay the ‘unknown’ fee for the crossing which turned out to be 3000 Rubles; £50). In the evening sunlight we passed through the quaint town of Khandyga which was one of the most beautiful we had seen in all of Central Asia and Russia. The faces of the locals were distinctly Mongolian; the descendants of nomadic reindeer herders that historically occupied this area of Siberia. The houses were in the typical Russian style however, built from dark timber with ornate carved windows and doors painted in bright colours ranging from orange to blue to green. All of the gardens comprised beautiful allotments filled with vegetables (to keep the inhabitants through the winter) and one garden was especially beautiful and filled with blazen red flowering gladioli. It was utterly lovely and so very remote. The people here were grafters, but above all else they were survivors. We had noticed that in the faces of the rural Russian men was a determination and grit that we don’t see back at home in the UK. Mostly they always looked sooo mean! For one thing they are all incredibly physical and capable, and could probably fix and build anything they set their minds too. And they are tough, which makes them extra frightening because they have all likely completed some kind of military service and know exactly how to punch someone in the face. Having said that, every single Russian man that has approached us to say hello and ask about the truck (mostly this occurs at fuel stations) have been incredibly kind, so looks are evidently deceiving. After passing through town we eventually stopped for the night down a pretty off road track opposite a tributary of the River Aldan. Ed and I immediately scrambled down the steep muddy bank to the pebbly beach and soaked up the beautiful view of the river which glowed purple and grey in the late evening sunlight. Albeit the mosquitoes were out on force, Ed skimmed some stones and I took some photos. We were so happy (once more) to be in Siberia after the awful few days before Yakutsk. It was fantastic sharing the road with the Dutch and an additional benefit was that it was much easier to get to sleep at night being part of a convoy. You didn’t have to keep one ear twitching. We woke to another misty morning on Wednesday 20th August and set off early once more along the Kolyma Highway (Road of Bones) on route to Magadan. The plan for today was to visit the Gulag museum for which Jeroen had a GPS location. Unfortunately the museum had been moved to a school located within a village more than 70km further away and by some luck we managed to find it. There were no signs indicating its existence and it bemused us how any non-Russian speaking tourist would have a chance. With Virginia with us, we got directions. It amazed me once more that even though we were in one of the most remote places on the earth, life still went on as normal. The school building housing the Gulag exhibit was modern looking and well looked after with a picket fence painted in wonderful pastel hues. The playground had swings and slides and huge Russian tyres had also been painted in bright colours and used as giant plant pots for happy sunflowers. Inside, a very sweet Russian lady with blue eyes and blonde hair greeted us and we entered a large room; one part library and office and one part an exhibition displaying information about the Gulag’s. There were maps, photographs and artefacts displayed in cabinets and Virginia kindly translated everything in English because ashamedly (for us) Jeroen, Yolande, Angeline and Virginia all spoke English as well as Dutch! It was wonderfully insightful and an experience we would never had achieved on our own. We learned that over 700,000 people (men and women) died building the Road of Bones and working in the gold and platinum mines, and by the end of the 1960’s there were 3.5million people living and working in the gulag camps. Artefacts from the camps included hand tools, bits of clothing and old wooden (original) kilometre markers. Because of the permafrost in Siberia, the road had to be built on a wooden base constructed from felled trees which were laid perpendicular to the road surface, to prevent the overlying gravel stone surface sinking into metres of bog through the summer months (when the permafrost partially melts). We were shown a map displaying the headquarters of the Gulag camps and told that every 10 to 15km a Gulag was positioned along the road. In addition Gulags were also created for the mining of gold (and platinum) and it is estimated that one person died for every kilogram of gold extracted from this area of Siberia. That was the price of a human life. We left the museum in the warm Siberian sunshine and albeit it was another beautiful day, thinking about all the people that had suffered here definitely weighed us down. We continued north east and the road began to rise in altitude. Yakutsk is only about 150mASL which explained the low-lying wetlands we had visited since leaving the town. Now we were heading into beautiful high peaked mountains with only the less elevated hills carpeted in dark green forest. The road surface was excellent (albeit not tarmac) and we managed to cover a couple more hundred kilometres over the course of the afternoon. Over that time the road traversed beautiful crystal clean rivers which meandered through the mountains with large gravel and sand beaches along the banks. The vistas were exactly how we had imagined Siberia and we were expecting to see a bear any minute, splashing around in the emerald green pools. All the while, the trees and short shrubs lining the road continued to glow with the colours of autumn, but now that we were further north, the elevated slopes of the mountains were covered in a pale green grey lichen that looked like pale sand from a distance. All the while, large areas of the road were under construction and we passed over a brand new bridge (recently completed) at the bottom of a stunning valley. The road was filled with giant dumpers and machines and huge Russian vehicles pushing soil around and of course, Ed loved it. That evening we ascended another valley before catching up with the Dutch (they drive faster than us) where they had made camp along a gravel river bed opposite a crystal clear gushing river. Soon Ed and Jeroen had started a fire and we were all warming ourselves around it and enjoying the wonderful views of the mountains from whence we came. Suddenly a large Russian Ural turned up from nowhere and three men inside waved at us cheerily as they drove passed. It turned out they were also camping along the river (slightly further down) and thirty minutes later one of the men came to visit us. He looked to be in his early thirties and had brown hair and a wonderfully kind open smile. In his hand was a bucket of live fish; greyling that he had just caught and he was offering them to us as a gift, but urged us to eat them raw, i.e. Siberian Sushi! Ed and Virginia immediately agreed to try it and I initially shied out of the way. Soon he was filleting them alongside the river and sprinkling them with salt and pepper. Everyone was eating it, so of course I tried some!!!! And it was totally fantastic and had the most wonderful flavour – almost herbal. There were so many in the bucket however, that we agreed to keep some to grill on the BBQ the following evening. We invited the kind young man to sit by the fire with us and Virginia offered him all sorts (beer, vodka) but he would only take tea. Once more with the presence of Virginia, we were able to talk to the young man and we discovered that he was working as one of the engineers, installing the piles for the road (which incidentally had to be at least 40m deep to support it!). They were only able to work in the summer months and he shocked us when he explained that within 6 weeks temperatures in this area would drop to minus 40’C! It was hard to imagine when day in and day out (since crossing the border) the sun had shone warmly and the daytime temperatures hadn’t dropped below 20’C. As dusk approached we waited for the Siberian stars to appear, all still huddled around the fire (now it was cold!). The young Russian shook his head however (when Virginia enquired about the Siberian stars), and he said ‘No. Tonight it will be a white night’. And he was right. For the first time in my life I experienced an everlasting twilight (although we did spot 3 stars in the pale sky before we went to bed ;p). We were reminded of how far north we actually were (but not yet the furthest north we would be) and it started to feel more and more like we were experiencing Siberia. On 21st August we woke to a very chilly morning by the river, setting off at 7am. Ed had kept the heating on all night, so we slept very happily and all cosy in the truck (don’t worry mam!). We had chatted with Jeroen and the decision was made to make it to Magadan within the next three days as we didn’t want to push our luck with the weather. The conversation with the lovely local Russian lad last night (I am so sorry I need to check his name with Virginia) had made us all a bit anxious that the Siberian Summer was very soon going to come to an end. We were reminded again that there is no autumn here. Just summer and winter. Also the fact that we had had no rain for 10 days straight was also a worry – surely we were due some. All the while Ed was torn as he knew that Magadan was the goal, but he yearned to attempt to drive the Old Summer Road as the recent dry and warm weather would mean we had a chance of completing at least part of it; the river crossings would be low and mud was likely to be in less supply! In the end however, it was agreed to make it to Magadan first and attempt the Old Summer Road on the way back to Yakutsk. We would have to pray for more sun and suffer the fate of the road gods! We set off, the Dutch disappearing in a cloud of dust as they were much faster than us (but we would always meet up at the end of the day). The early morning sunshine was utterly beautiful and very soon we were passing through a stunningly enchanting valley where the forest had once more receded from the road to reveal an almost ‘heathland’ style landscape, that was definitely coloured with the hues of autumn. Bright reds and dark pinks were intermingled with golden yellows and rich bronze as the late summer grasses and shrubs accepted the end of summer. It was so ridiculously beautiful that we had to get out of the truck and breathe in the air (and take some photos). Also the view that Siberia had no autumn (for me) was blown out of the water. We were clearly experiencing it in full bloom, along with the cool nights and misty mornings. The landscape glowed with an opulence that fed the eyes and soothed the soul. It was really quite romantic. By lunchtime the autumn hues were replaced by milky blues lakes and deep foreboding bogs and in some places it was obvious that large areas of lowland had been flooded following construction of the road, where swathes of dead trees rotted in the deep swampy waters. It was still a pleasant landscape however, and we stopped for lunch opposite a pretty lake where wading birds straddled the water’s edge. Later in the afternoon we ascended once more into forested mountains on a winding steep mountain track, closely approaching our most northerly point of the entire trip. The previous evening, our young Russian visitor had told us that there were no bears in this area as they had nothing to eat. As we turned one of the meandering bends however, Ed started shouting ‘Bear Bear!’ and literally metres from the truck (running alongside it) in the ditch of the road under Ed’s window, was a black bear! We couldn’t believe our eyes! Within seconds it had bounded up the banking and was out of sight. Ed stopped the truck and we scanned the forest edge, and then Ed was shouting again ‘Bear Bear’! And there was another one (or possibly the same bear), running ahead of us across the road! It wasn’t massive (possibly a juvenile) and about 1m long and it dashed off the road just in time to avoid an oncoming Uaz. The men in the Uaz smiled gleefully giving us the thumbs up as they passed by. Obviously they were out of the moon to see a bear as well! We were so incredibly lucky to have seen it. It took us a while to calm down! About 10 minutes after the bear sighting we reached our most northerly point of the trip: 64.61 degrees north and it is our understanding that the Arctic Circle is 67 degrees north (the UK is 56). It was a triumphant moment and we gave a ‘whoop whoop’ to celebrate to milestone. Only one left to go now – Magadan, which would be the furthest east we had ever been. That evening we caught up with the Dutch who had parked just off the main road (kindly allowing us to spot them easily). The last hundred kilometres of the day had seen the end of the ‘scenic’ stretch of road (which largely started in Yakutsk) and instead the views were replaced by dark foreboding (treeless) covered mountains of schist and slate. The track was black where the local material had been used to surface the road, and the overall effect of the landscape was one of a slate quarry. The Dutch already had a fire going and kindly shared the remaining greyling with us which was grilling on the fire. It was delicious and we supplemented it with our own homemade potatoe curry and eggy bread. We were shattered and so made for an early night. On the morning of 22nd August we were ready to go at 7am and Jeroen told us to head off first as they would catch us up. We did just that and throughout the course of the day the Dutch never did catch us up. We got a bit worried and stopped for several breaks and a long lunch but there was still no sign of them. Eventually in the late afternoon we arrived at a large town (with mobile reception) and then two text messages arrived to Ed’s phone indicating that Jeroen had tyre trouble and had to back track to the nearest village for repair. Subsequently they would be returning to the campsite of the previous night. We however, had almost completed our quota (of 450km) and so conceded that we would likely now re-meet the Dutch in Magadan. The scenery that day made us finally realise the source of the Siberian gold that fuelled the opening of the Gulags in the 1930’s. About 50km north of a town called Susuman and for the remainder of the day we passed stockpile after stockpile of alluvial river gravels – dumped everywhere. There was nothing else in the valley. Occasionally we would see large machines processing the gravels with screeners and Ed spotted several water tanks and silt busters. Originally we thought that the gravel was perhaps material stockpiled in preparation for repair of the road, but the stockpiles just went on and on as far as the eye could see for hundreds of kilometres within the river valley. The entire operation was on an epic scale and all the while the road of bones meandered within the carnage. We drove on and on that day until the track ascended into the mountains again, and literally about 20 minutes before we stopped for the night, we had our second bear sighting! Much like the previous day we turned around a bend and there it was; another black bear (slightly further ahead this time) and running along the ditch on the left side of the road, it’s black and golden bottom bouncing up and down as it ran away from us. Seconds after, it bounded up the bank and was out of sight! We were totally elated to have seen two bears in two days and knew that lady luck was shining on us. We were just hoping that she would shine on us a bit longer and keep the weather warm and dry. Not long after the bear siting we pulled down a forested track and spent the night hiding in the woods parked in a shallow stream (yes actually parked in the water). It was a quaint little spot and we knew that no one would bother us there. Rain came in the night and when we woke the following morning the stream was a little higher than it had been the previous evening, but it still wasn’t a problem for the truck. Subsequently Saturday 23rd August was our first cloudy day in Siberia and there was definitely more of a nip in the air, but it still wasn’t epically cold by any stretch of the imagination. Sadly however, for the most part of the day, the scenery matched the weather as we continued through mile after mile of gravel stockpiles. Occasionally we would pass through a town or small village that appeared abandoned and apocalyptic with decaying buildings and rusting machinery. They were eerie, but Ed found their dereliction fascinating. We pondered whether the towns existed only while the river gravels alongside them were being panned for gold…. Who knew. After driving about 200km we kept our eyes peeled for a turn off leading to a Gulag (Dneprovskii) for which we had a GPS position from Jeroen. The maps indicated an off road track measuring 18km and we decided to go for it, as so far we had stuck only to the major routes since entering Siberia. We weren’t disappointed either as the track was utterly beautiful and within a few kilometres we were in the most picturesque valley imaginable. To call it an Autumn Wonderland is no exaggeration. Trees lined the track and the sun (which had finally made an appearance) glinted through the forest floor to reveal pale green lichens and mushrooms protruding everywhere. Occasionally the track would open out to reveal a largely treeless landscape filled with blazing red and pink shrubs, fluffy wild cotton lining the road and every shade of green in the mountains rising up from the valley floor. Mushrooms occasionally poked curiously up through the centre of the track and some of them were huge, and crystal clear streams occasionally tinkled over the road. The overall effect was utterly enchanting and one of mystery and beauty combined. The track itself was an off road dream for Ed. The road was so old and worn that the wooden timber (on which the road would have been originally built) occasionally poked out through the gravel surface and large hollows appeared where the road had been largely washed away. We had been lucky with the weather of late, but here on the track the hollows were filled with mud and water. Subsequently Ed bravely smashed the truck through giant puddle after giant puddle and thankfully the majority of them had firm gravel or wood at the base. The frightening ones however, were the ones where even the original timbers had rotted away meaning all that was left was boggy swamp from the partially melted permafrost. One puddle caught us out and we smashed into a deep hole where the front of the truck dropped over a metre deep into the water. Ed got out to check for any damage; there was none, so we continued on as best we could to the Gulag. After several river crossings and more beautiful vistas we finally arrived at the Gulag and I have to say I was a bit apprehensive about what we would see. We cleared a bend and then a giant dilapidated dark wooden structure loomed before us. On the hill behind it stood a derelict hut. Ed parked the truck and we got out to explore. Inside the hut we were surprised to see a rickety old table and bits of broken furniture and in the centre of the room was positioned a metal wood burner connected to a pipe / chimney which still poked through the roof. Rolled pieces of hessian hung over the door frame (an old draft excluder perhaps) and the walls were constructed out of thin strips of wood (wattle and dawb) which Ed said would have originally been covered in mud. The whole building leaned and creaked in the wind. It was so atmospheric, so bleak. With hushed voices we exited the hut and climbed up to the larger wooden structure. Ed wandered off and called to me to come and see. I rushed to catch up with him to find he was poking his head through a dark hole, and to get there he had climbed through 15m of derelict collapsed wood which looked to have originally comprised a tunnel. He was staring into a mine. I came to join him and took his place staring into the dark hole, bowing my head in the low entrance. I couldn’t see very much except for a wall of ice some 20m at the rear of the hole (which Ed had discovered when using the flash on the camera). The position of the Gulag so far from the road suddenly made sense. Now that our eyes knew what we were seeing, we spotted old wooden railway tracks exiting the mine and focused our eyes on large stockpiles of rock that we had seen whilst entering the Gulag. With a wall of ice in the door of the mine during late summer, it was difficult to imagine conditions in the Gulag during the Siberian winter. With more exploration we located the perimeter fence (where barbed wire remained) and scattered all over the floor were rusted tin cans and nails from the old railway. We climbed to one of the rock stockpiles and surveyed the view down the valley in the late afternoon sunshine. It was so beautiful in its haze of green forest and autumnal bloom. All of it was spoiled thinking about the people who had to endure here. They likely never saw any beauty in it at all. It was very sad. We took another track (in the truck) which led passed a wooden lookout out tower and numerous larger wooden buildings that had partially collapsed. We assumed they were the accommodation of the Gulag prisoners and in their derelict state they looked dark and creepy. I didn’t want to look inside them. On the opposite side of the valley however, we spotted more mine shafts with shattered wooden tunnels linking the entrances to the valley floor. We assumed they were some kind of shoots allowing the mined material to be transported down easily. The size of them were something else. It was such a fascinating place. As we turned to exit the Gulag a large vehicle appeared in front of us, but kindly pulled over for us to pass by. As we passed them we could see two men inside the vehicle and the back of it was filled with all sorts of equipment. One of the men jumped out to talk to Ed. We could see that he was very interested to see who we were (and probably what we were doing here) and kept saying ‘dree machina?’ meaning three vehicles? He was obviously keeping a close eye on people coming in and out of the Gulag. Ed told him we were only one vehicle and that we were tourists. The man nodded and got back in his vehicle and we drove off sharpish. We managed to google the Gulag and learned that it had been a tin mine (and not gold, as we had initially assumed). Tired, we found a very nice camp spot on a gravel spit along the river and Ed had to drive through the river for us to get there ensuring no one would be able to bother us. On Sunday 24th August, we continued to drive the final 260km (south) to Magadan, our journey’s end. The scenery improved somewhat along the route as the gravel stockpiles diminished, but the road however, got progressively worse towards the town! And finally at 5.30pm (+9hrs GMT, although in Magadan we were +12hrs GMT) we arrived in Magadan in the warm Siberian sunshine. It was unbelievable. We had made it!!!!! Elated we hopped out at the giant blue ‘Magadan Sign’ on the edge of town and took some photos. The Dutch had made it there before us and given their GPS position which was opposite the ‘Mask of Sorrow’ a wonderful memorial sculpture built in memory of the hundreds and thousands of people that perished in the Gulags. It is a giant face of stone with a huge tear, and within the tears are more faces crying more tears. It’s a very sad and beautiful sculpture. Once we arrived, the Dutch kindly cracked out the Champagne and we all toasted our arrival in Magadan (I keep saying ‘the Dutch’ sorry – Virginia is Moldovian btw). After the bubbly, Ed and I walked up to the memorial and took a little time to absorb our location. It was a lovely view alongside the memorial, which looked down onto Magadan and the sea. It was overwhelming to get to Magadan and I can’t speak for Ed right now, but I am sure he feels the same way, and mostly proud of his achievement. We really have driven to the ends of the earth crossing over twelve time zones and we have visited some truly remarkable and beautiful countries over the past few months, With my own eyes I have witnessed more beauty and wonder than I could ever have imagined I would ever see in my own lifetime. All I have to say is thank you Ed for bringing me here, and sharing this with me…. I have never been so happy. I am so proud of Ed and I hope that all of you lot (friends and family) are too, and that you are all doing a WHOOP WHOOP now for us in Magadan!!!!! And now…. Only 12,000 odd miles to Blighty…. (via the beach mind you). Miss you all. We’re coming home now. Only about 12,000 odd miles to go….. Lots of Love. Ros and Ed xxxxxxxx
4 Comments
Lucy
8/25/2014 03:46:55 pm
So glad you're having a fabulous time, sound amazing, safe trip home and enjoy chillin on the beach xxx
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Batt Family
8/26/2014 07:36:19 am
Hi, well done on reaching Magadan!! Glad you made it there safely, now hurry home, we all miss you!!!! x x x x
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libby
8/30/2014 02:55:30 am
What an amazing trip, I have enjoyed the highs and lows and think you Ros should be a writer, so descriptive well written...Belated Birthday wishes to Ed and hope the trip back goes well and the winter hasn't yet set in. Look forward to hearing more on your return.
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sue canney
9/11/2014 07:22:17 am
Well done on reaching Magadan. Have loved reading your blog Ros - its amazing. Safe trip back through Russia and love to you both.
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AuthorRos: Both Ed and I will be updating the diary blog as much as possible! WTS. Archives
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