On The Road

On the road…the tarmac stretches out infront of us, plodding along at about 80kmh it promises to lead us to all the places we have been dreaming about…The big fast Autobahns of Germany give way to the slimmer single lane roads of Poland, wide sloping embankments are exchanged for lines of trees and hedgroes with the occasional village and garage that we pass by, and the daily cues of traffic and accepted congestion of cars and lorries is done away with,,,jams becoming just sweet things from pots to put on your toast…The first days drive takes us to a big motorway service station somewhere before Berlin,where we only wanted to stop for a break.We found out that the trucks main batteries were not charging, infact they were flat, and we are left with our first real challenge.A few hypothesis were thrown around about one battery being weaker than the other and then both going flat when the diesel pump was turned on to fill our main tank from one of the storage tanks.We played around with the electrics and got lost in a spaghetti of wires in the dark.We decdided to re-charge the batteries with our generator and look further into the problem when we were in Poland and when it was also light.That tact turned out to be impossible as on first try of the generator we found out that it was not creating any charge at all.Further investigation revealed that the dynamo was broken in two which rendered our back up electric source totally useless.Because the solar panel battery was also connected to the main batteries, it had also gone flat…Electric mahem…After some general flapping about we sent Ana to try and charm the local German staff into letting us borrow a power point and charge our batteries this way.Luckily she found a guy in the service station office who was sympathetic and he let us charge them both… They were ready by 5am in the morning.1st night, about 600km driven, 2 hrs sleep, one broken generator, two dodgy batteries, a pile of wires in a big spaghetti mess…We drove into Poland with the red battery light glowing on the dashboard and found a mechanic to look at our electric madness.I had anticipated that we might have a problem with the alternator and after a quick look at it with its cover removed, the mechanics international look of devistation followed by some tire kicking, no-one needed to speak any Polish to understand that this was where our problem lay.It was going to take at least 24hrs to fix so we were resigned to stay there for the night.We all quickly made friends with the mechanics and also the compound security guard called Jon.Our story was related and also our tight budget,,,we got let off with a tax free bill, a new alternator and all the work for less than 200 euros.5km down the road the red light came on again and our triumphant smiles were instantly turned upsidedown.Another 10km and the red light went off again, and then about 10 more and it came back on.Our own travelling party light, how lovely…It turned out that the new batteries we had just bought needed some time to get a full charge and within an hour the light went out not to be seen again.One more purchase was made in Poland and that was for a new generator.The one we had been given by a friend on the day before our depature was now going to be used as bargaining collateral for any sticky situations we might get into further down the road in Russia.The engine on it still ran so we could easily make some corrupt official or road pirate believe that they had proffited if we had to pay something in backsheesh along the highway, then scupper off hopefully before they tried to plug anything in…These small delays now gave us a tight schedule for getting to Russia in time.We had to cross the border on the 20th June and we had only 2 days in BelaRus to get there.Crossing from Poland into Bela Rus turned out to be a much longer ordeal than I had expected.We spent almost the whole day running from office to office trying to get the relevant stamps we needed to get the truck through the customs demands.I must have related our story over a hundred times that day to various officials, each one in broken English and the tiny vocabulary of Russian that I had learnt.Every other truck at the border was a commercial vehicle and had a whole folder of paperwork to give and be filed and registered at each counter.When I approached the first counter with my passport and the truck ownership papers I was met with an astonished and indignant look and shoed away very unpolitely being told to come back with a big pile of frightening paperwork just like everyone else.The other drivers were holding Carnets and goods declarations and all sorts of relevant permissions and insurances.I was only a camper truck and did’nt need all this commercial beuracracy. Luckily for me I met a couple of truck drivers who spoke sufficient enough English to help me out, and a very helpful translator called Ira .Our truck and mission became infamous at the border crossing that day and within a couple of hours everyone there knew us and our case.Whilst I was being calojed from office to office the girls were wondering around outside with their accordion playing songs and entertaining the other waiting truckers.It was like the circus had arrived in town. I heard one opinion after the next from each interested party and they ranged from the impossible to get through, to its gonna cost you 20,000 euro, to go back home now, you’ll never make it even if they let you in,,,I was the only one who seemed amused by the whole happening…Eventually after hours of cues, being shifted from one official to the next, getting a thousand different stamps, I was finally lead to an office where I had to pay…It was’nt until the girl wrote on a piece of paper the number 2 and then pointed at the word ‘EURO’ printed on some document that I knew I could buy our freedom into BelaRus.At first I cringed thinking that it was 2000, and then imagined with a purposefull optimism that it was only 200, but upon pulling out a 2 euro coin from my pocket I was met with a satisfied smile and a receipt…All these hours and endless explanations for the princely sum of 2 euro,,,how wonderfully cheap and satisfying…The next and last office I was marched into printed us a document stating our out of the ordinariness and proclaiming us Not Real Truckers, and we got our get into Bela Rus cards stamped with a long awaited for and well earnt hearty smile…The most priceless moment of the whole ordeal was when I was waiting for my name to come up on a digital screen telling me which was the next office I had to go to.There was a coffee machine in the centre of the hall which had cerillic letters printed all over it and it sporadically made those gurgling noises that only coffee machines know how to make.I watched a few guys go to get a cup of coffee, dropping their coins into the slot and then pressing their selected choice.Each time the coffee would come out first and then when it stopped a cup would drop onto the hot wet steamy brown puddle…Most of the guys there waiting knew the indolent behaviour of this machine but were very content to keep its secret hidden so as to triumphantly share in every new discovery of its tachiturn nature.The small ways of bringing humour into such a solemn serious place was uplifting and I could’nt help but feeling this silent joke was made about the whole system being somehow ludicrous with its strict unforgiving systematic nature…One more border into Russia, and after our recent Bela Rus experience I was prepared for the worse and was picturing day long waits in grey formidable buildings.Actually we were met with a cluster of run down shabby shacks, maybe 3 hours of quizzical faces, and then allowed gratefully to be on our way.I even turned back after 10km because I could’nt believ it could be that easy, but was again shoed away in the direction of Moscow when I voiced my concerns…We were in,,, the border from East to West crossed and the whole journey across Russia and the Siberian plains over the Altai Mountains and into Mongolia lay ahead…