After Gorno Artaysk the Siberian honeymoon was over and the real Siberia which we all know about showed it's not so charming face.No more Austrian valleys and no more Edelweiss. The most predominant feature of this section was the blood thirsty Siberian mosquito. There was flatlands, low lands, pine-trees, a few tufts of grass and a few cheeky hills. Lots of still standing water which is a personal favorite of the mosquito.
Our first camp after the rest day was next to these mosquito paradises in a pine forest just next to a highway. No view, wet gras and mud and hardly a place to set a tent up.
Nothing worked to deter the mosquitos. They were feeding off us and thrived on their cocktails of blood and citronella. I had to look up on Wikipedia about mosquitos because I couldn't understand what they possibly could feed on in the middle of nowhere when there are no people on bicycles passing through on their way to Istanbul, it is still a mystery to me but I found out that a female lay 100 eggs at a time and they have four life circles. An interesting fact is that male mosquitos are vegetarians.
The next camps were not much better so the only thing to do was to sulk in you tent while watching the female mosquitoes staring at you through the mesh. If you opened the zipper a centimeter about 40 unwanted guests would enter. The only thing to do was to sweat in your rain clothes and wait to get on your bike again. Luckily I cycle faster than the average flying speed of a female Siberian mosquito.
Early one morning we passed the birth town of Lieutenant General Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov who designed the AK-47 assault rifle. He died a few years ago of a gastric heamorrhage at the age of 94. Just before he died he wrote a letter to the Russian Orthodox Church and said he was sorry that he designed a weapon that caused so manny deaths.
In the border town there was also a Russian Orthodox Church and I sent Erwin there to say that I am sorry that I swore so much in Mongolia.
I will have to go to a much bigger church to pray for all the swearing I did in Siberia. Especially calling the mosquitos names. Luckily they don't understand Afrikaans and don't know who their mothers are.
A photo of the church that I stole from Erwin's blog.
The last of the section we camped underneath a bridge next to a most uncharmimg border town. It was next to a dirty river carrying all the sewerage and waste from the town.I went in to bathe and wash my hair anyway. It was a desperate measure to get rid of 5 days of sweat and many layers of industrial strength mosquito detergent. Baby wipes didn't console me anymore.
Reading "The elephant whisperer" and drinking vodka in my silk pajamas did console me though.
It was high time to leave Siberia and cross into Kazakstan involving a 158km ride to Semey where we would rest for a day.
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