The Diary

Days 1-10 Days 11-20 Days 21-39 Days 40-48 Days 52-59 Days 60-69

Day 11 - 22 April (Ranua - Joensuu) - Miles covered: 353

Today’s purpose was to use the more minor roads, traverse across to the eastern side of Finland, and make our way down to the south-eastern town of Joensuu, so that we would be well placed for our move, on 24th, into Russia. According to a combination of GPS and maps, we anticipated a journey of some 250+ miles, and set off at about 1100hrs.

The first part of the journey reflected much the same as previous days: occasional sightings of Moose and Reindeer (one, in particular, very recently attached to one of the ubiquitous “people carriers”), and continual views of snow, fir trees, snow, log piles, snow, birch trees, snow, log-carrying juggernauts, more snow and, finally, more fir trees! This, combined with the gradually deepening cold in all our extremities, proved to send us into “automaton mode”, and we had covered over 150 miles before we realised that we needed to stop for some form of refreshment/warmth.

Arriving in Suomassalmi, we expected to find at least a coffee shop attached to a petrol station, but there was absolutely nothing there. Where the 1,000+ inhabitants went for essentials, we couldn’t work out, and assumed that the social life involved the trees and snow in some way, as we were forever sighting little people wandering out of the middle of a remote forest!

It may be “Murphy’s Law”, but it always seems that, just at the point when you least “need”, or are prepared for it, something happens to seriously test your resolve. Just at the point when we were dreaming of hot coffee, food and warmth, the road literally “turned to mush”. The only warning that we had of any danger, was the smallest “danger triangle”, leaning against, wait for it!, a FIR TREE.

Suddenly, we found our bikes foundering in a mixture of wood pulp, slushy snow, mud and salty grit, which proved to be possibly the worst medium for seriously top-heavy, two-wheeled vehicles, to advance upon. This condition lasted for the next 20km, and, to date, was our very own “road of bones”. I am incredulous how neither bike went over, and will forever remember the heart-jerking lunge of a 400+kg bike as it “finds its own way” through the sludge. We were so affected by the experience, that it was at least another 20miles of dry roads before we realised that we should have, in some way, “captured the moment”, but neither of us were prepared to re-live it!

Moving on, we eventually arrived in the larger town of Kuhmo, where we were fed with the largest burgers I have ever seen. Mainly owing to the time of day (1530hrs), and the fact that we had not eaten or drunk anything since 0830hrs, we found the food delicious! (Andy decided to re-name me “KTB” - for the answer, please send SAE to………)

Our “agricultural” experience, combined with seriously full bellies, persuaded us to use a slightly more major route, for the final push to Joensuu. This was what many will be familiar with, the “grind” - 100+ miles of the same thing, just so that we could get to our target destination. As luck would have it, just as we were “tuned out” to everything other than the destination, we passed the first Police car that we had seen on the road since leaving the RAC. As luck wouldn’t have it, as he passed me, his blue lights started flashing, and clouds of dust could be seen in my mirrors, as he slewed to a halt, turned around, and started to give chase. Andy, close behind me, suggested that, as opposed to “going for it” (sic), we should pull in at the very next opportunity, as Smokey was definitely on to us.

We pulled in at a parking place, and waited for our “friends” to join us. On their arrival, I was delighted that Andy immediately went into “Charity Tour/Uncle Andy” mode, welcoming them to our parking place, and baffling them with the sheer enormity of what we were carrying, doing and enduring. This seemed to placate them somewhat, and they seemed more amused than concerned that we had been travelling at 40kmh more than the speed limit. After exchanging genuine pleasantries, they let us on our way, and we notched this up as “number 1” of what I hope will be very few!

We arrived at the Finlandia Atrium Hotel in good time, to be allocated a “private” parking space in the owner’s personal garage, next to his estate merc, convertible Beetle, off-road bikes and alto sax, that he “serenaded” us with, as we unpacked!

Day 12 - 23 April - (Joensuu - Imatra) - Miles covered: 130(?)

With the relatively short distance to be covered, we had a more leisurely start, and I had the opportunity to try a traditional Finnish delicacy, “Karelja Pakkala”, which is, effectively, sticky rice wrapped in a crisp pancake. Sounds odd, but it’s delicious! As we were packing the bikes, right outside the entrance to the hotel, the owner and his entire family, complete with photographer, insisted that we pose for photos with him, which will be posted on the website. They also were kind enough to discount our stay, including our meal the night before!

Our journey to Imatra was “much of the same” with a brief stop by one of the last frozen lakes, for a film clip, and then straight into Imatra.

The town was quite pleasant, and we checked in to the Cumulus Hotel Imatra, where the very helpful staff provided us with all the information and assistance we needed. Our priority was to investigate this “myth” about a specific insurance policy that we are required to have, when travelling through Russia. On enquiry, NOBODY seemed to know what we were talking about, and we started to wonder whether it was true. Eventually, the receptionist pointed us in the direction of the nearest bank, where she believed that we could obtain the necessary documents. Trouble was, the bank was closed!

With nothing left to do for the day, I took advantage of the hotel’s membership of a local gym, which proved to be very helpful, as, in discussion with one of the other “idiots” who enjoy throwing weights around, it transpired that, should we NOT possess the insurance policy, we would be “wery inconvenienced” at the border. He also happened to be the owner of the local Motorbike dealership, and he provided me with a map and address where we could obtain exactly the right document, at 0830hrs the next morning.

Once upon a time, a Finn and a Russian, trapped in their remote hunting lodge during winter, ran out of supplies, having nothing left but Vodka to drink. The Finn, fed up with the “non” taste of Vodka, searched the entire lodge for something to add, to make it more palatable. On looking through the bathroom, he hit on the idea of adding toothpaste to the vodka, and “MINTU” was born! Try it! You’ll never forget it, nor will you ever want to again!

Day 13/14 - 24 April - (Imatra - Sankt Peterburg) - Miles covered: 137

A very early rise today (0500hrs!), so that we could be at the border straight after our “appointment”. The weather, incredibly, continued to be kind to us - I’m sure that something terrible is being “saved up” for later!

Having packed the bikes and breakfasted, we set off for the address where we were informed we could purchase our vehicle insurance needed for Russia. The directions took us to a housing estate on the outskirts of Imatra, where we parked the bikes and followed the path down to the entrance of a block of flats that could have been in Swindon or Milton Keynes!

We made our way up to the second floor, and knocked at the door of flat 27, which was answered by a little old man in a soiled blue tee-shirt, nylon tracksuit bottoms and bare, filthy dirty feet. Emanating from the flat was a strong smell of boiled cabbage, accompanied by the tinny sounds of a Balalaika from an old record player.

We were invited to sit, literally just inside the entrance to the flat, where I felt immediately transported back to the early eighties, and would not have been surprised to have seen the continued use of a Sinclair ZX Spectrum! Mr Insurance’s wife then appeared, and we were then to bear witness to an amusing half hour of confusion which, ultimately, resulted in our leaving with two duly stamped, official-looking documents, that we still felt unsure as to their necessity.

Leaving the housing estate, we travelled south towards the border, passing a never-ending line of car transporters, fully loaded with every make of motor car, from Land Rover to Lexus, Honda to Hyundai, Ford to Fiat! Arriving at the front of the queue, we found ourselves at the Finnish side of the border, which, naively, we assumed to be the “thing”. After less than five minutes, we were told that we were “good to go” and, slightly disappointed, I had to actually request a stamp in our passports. It was only as we started to leave the checkpoint, that the guard told us that “the Russian border is 1km that way”. Well, at least we have a “parting stamp” from the land of trees, snow, trees, frozen lakes, trees and logging lorries!

As we approached the Russian border crossing, I could see a severe-looking guard, in full uniform, complete with “tea tray” hat, eyeing me suspiciously. Behind him were two, similarly dressed, equally fierce-looking, guards, with the exception that they wore the shortest skirts I have ever seen on a uniform, exposing long legs and high heels. Their expressions, however, said, “Don’t mess with me!” in no uncertain terms!

Passport control was relatively painless, although the girl at the counter really didn’t seem to know what she was doing, giving me the impression that she had never seen a British passport.

We then moved on to the Customs “hut”, some ten yards behind. On entering, we were met with a pervading smell of sour sweat, and the lengthy process of form-filling and checking began. Suffice to say, everything was wrong, nothing made sense and nothing worked - and this was on their side!

By the time that we had been “processed”, a huge queue had formed behind us, and we had to move our bikes to allow “friends” to pass through with relative ease. Eventually, the guard that was “looking after us” gave a satisfied grunt and reached for his rubber stamps, which signified, we thought, that we were almost through. After a staccato of frenzied attacks upon every piece of paper we had “created”, he told us to go outside and wait for him.

Standing by the bikes, we thought that we were about to be “released”, but our new friend came outside and, to our (internal) horror, told us to remove EVERYTHING from the bikes for inspection. He did, however, look astonished at the sheer quantity of what we were carrying, and seemed to change his mind as we “laboured” with the bags, settling upon a cursory glance at one or two of our panniers, and then he had had enough. We were free! He even gave us some advice about the road ahead, and shook our hands warmly, wishing us the best of luck and even saluting as we went through the barrier!

Once we were several hundred metres into Russia, we pulled over and took advantage of a “photo-opp”, and then we were on our way to SP.

Very soon, we discovered exactly how bad the roads in Russia really are, as we followed car transporters that had to swerve from one side of the road to the other to avoid the deepest pot-holes, and were forced to “eat their dust” that was thrown up from the deep ruts that littered this “main road”. This made the journey much slower than at any time before.

The incredible dichotomy that exists in Russia, between the "haves" and the "have-nots", the country and the city, is almost painfully embarrassing to bear witness to. We went through village after village of depressed, "lost in time" shantytowns, where the roads were even worse, and people all seemed to wear identicle "empty" expressions, as if they weren't really there. It makes one feel extremely sad, and humble that we should expect so much and tolerate so little in our incredibly privileged western lives!

For those of you who have a desire to follow any of our route, should you find yourself coming through the Svetagorsk border crossing, make sure that you turn left for "Katagusk", some 5 miles into Russia, just after the first Railway crossing that you come to. Seriously, you want to take heed of this advice - the "main" road is much, much worse!

Our journey became one of standing, sitting, swerving, braking and choking, on the fumes and dust from the numerous lorries charging along these "deathtraps". Indeed, we saw many "memorials", some of which were similar to cemetry headstones, along the entire route.

Gradually, after what seemed to be an age, we found ourselves entering the outskirts of Sankt Peterburg. I say outskirts, but the GPS told us that we still had 26miles to go!

Andy and I had not realised that this part of Russia was a further 1hour ahead of the time in Finland, and we found ourselves amongst the start of the SP rush-hour. The sun, for so many days our friend, became our nemesis as, getting slowly nearer to the centre, the congested traffic and increasing heat threatened to raise the oil temperature in our bikes to a critical level. Furthermore, GPS wouldn't help us with the street directions, so we were becoming more and more lost.

Eventually, near to a large bridge, we pulled over, and telephoned the hotel for directions. They asked me where I was, so I reported the large bridge, to which they informed me that St.Peterburg has over 100! They told me that the hotel was off the famous "Nevsky Prospekt" (aka Oxford Street), and that I should head for there. Nearly an hour later, in desperation, I asked the driver of a car next to me where we were, and she happened to be going to exactly the same street us us so, very kindly, led us all the way to the hotel!

As has been the case in so many of the places we have stayed, the staff were very helpful, and we parked our bikes in the private, "Staff only" courtyard at the back, complete with their own Christmas Tree!(?)

The next day, being a rest day and, in an attempt to add some more "culture" to our journey, we took a trip to the Hermitage, specifically the Winter Palace where, in a mind-boggling few hours, we stood next to works by virtually ALL of the famous artists through time (Warhol & Hirst excepted!). The Hermitage is somewhere you could spend a week, not just three hours, and we were completely overwhelmed by the experience.

Day 15 - 26 April - (Sankt Peterburg - Tartu) - Miles covered: 219

Our "marathon" journey out of the City started, LITERALLY, with a Marathon!

The staff, unaware of the road-closing, traffic-blocking nightmare that a major marathon in the centre of St Peterburg would cause, advised us that, on a Saturday morning, it wold be best to leave at about 1100hrs.

We headed out, with basic GPS (major roads only), into a city that had closed every one of the roads we needed to follow. Combined with our inability to read Cyrillic text, and the chaos caused by absolutely no diversions for the huge numbers of cars that all seemed to want to go in the same direction as us, our journey described that of a fly trapped under a glass! We even when into the Docks, from where we had to endure the worst, smog-filled tunnel I have ever been through. Eventually, after travelling nearly 30 miles, we were only just reaching the outskirts of Sankt Peterburg, but at least we were away from the runners, and gradually excaping from Russia!

Again, the main roads were in appalling condition, and the villages and towns that we went through continued to depress and amaze us at the same time. Fires were burning everywhere, in the dry grass at the side of the road, caused by the casual tossing of lit cigarettes from passing cars. Sometimes, these fires had spread to large areas, and the smell was incredible! Worse still, the fires in the villages, largely ignored by the listless inhabitants, were dangerously close to their tinder-dry, ramshackle homes, and some had even become victim to that danger.

In each village, people were sat at the sides of the road, with one or two buckets of potatoes for sale. Just think about it....... How poverty-stricken must they have been, to spend all day trying to compete to sell a few pounds of spuds?!!!

It was with a palpable sense of relief that we approached the Narva border crossing, and we were fortunate to pass through with relative speed and little inconvenience. Once on the road in Estonia, it was immediately evident that we were in a completely different world from where we had been. The roads, although not perfect, were many times better than those in Russia, people seemed generally more "buoyant", and the sun seemed to shine even brighter!

It was constantly apparent that the powers that ran this country actually allocated funds to the general infrastructure, and everywhere was cleaner, brighter and altogether more inhabitable than anything we had seen over the last few days.

Our route to Tartu took us past an enormous lake that seemed to go on forever. Lake Peipsijarva was quite beautiful, and the Estonian people obviously have a great love of fishing, as we must have seen hundreds of them, at every available point in rivers and small inlets, fishing for what, we don't know.

On the route, we saw many piles of branches, arranged in enormous nests, precariously balanced on the top of telegraph poles, and just had to stop to film the storks/cranes(?) that had set up home.

Our arrival in Tartu was a revalation, in that the town was beautifully clean, with exquisite architecture and an obviously revered heritage, that stood in complete contrast to what we had recently witnessed. To top it all off, we were given our very own Police escort to the hotel, and felt immedately at home.

That evening, we went to the "Gunpowder Cellar" where we enjoyed tradional Estonian cuisine, and were entertained by the large group of "effervesent" students, who, good naturedly, were making the most of their Saturday night. Outside, in the park, must have been hundreds of students of all ages, drinking and socialising. Andy noted the total absence of a Police presence, pointing out the contrast with what we would expect from the same situation in the UK.

On the whole, we would thoroughly reccommend a visit, or even a diversion to this pretty town, and are grateful that our stay here has "cleansed" some of the stain of our Russian experience.

Day 16 - 27 April - (Tartu - Jekabpils) - Miles covered: 193

Another beautiful start to the day, in a town that stands, in sharp contrast to even the sights, smells and sounds of Sankt Peterburg. Where SP contains a hectic and bizarrely contradictory series of splendours, nightmares and downright disasters, the town of Tartu is peaceful, TIDY, comforting and organised, with stunning architecture and thoughtful design, not to mention the desire to celebrate anyone who was anyone, in sculpture or fresco (one of the photos that I took, that morning, happened to be of a "celebrated" Chemist, who wrote a children's book!)

Tartu has become an important University town, although it seems to have grown without the inherent associated "problems". That morning, wandering around the centre, it seemed as if the authorities were making a definite statement about the "split" from their previous control, showing how, in their independence, they could make a much better go of things.

Soon after leaving town, we found ourselves on virtually deserted country roads, lined by trees that stood in what appeared to be closely mown grass. It looked too idyllic to be true. In fact, we spoke about stopping for a camp "brew", even pondering on the possibilities of a site for the night, if this proved true at the end of our planned 200+ miles.

Eventually, the beauty became too much, and, after passing a bridge over a river, we decided to stop at an indicated picnic site, to enjoy the ambience. Pulling in to the parking area, we were met with the result of a succession of indescriminate fly tipping, and the river proved to be a stagnant marsh, blocked by years of fallen trees and rotten vegetation. We had to have picked the WORST place to stop during the last 40miles!

Moving on, and once in Latvia (blink, and you miss the border!), we came to a remote junction that included a restaurant, so took the opportunity to refuel. The local girl who took our order, couldn't think of anything "traditional" to recommend, so it was chicken & chips, once again! On leaving the restaurant, Andy was approached by a family who had parked next to our bikes, the father asking him in a broad Yorkshire accent, where he was from. It turned out that he was married to a Latvian lady, and he was incredulous that we had ridden all the way from London.

Mid-afternoon saw us arriving in the town of Jekabpils, which immediately gave us the impression of recently "post-Soviet" conurbation. A confusing series of directions had us eventually finding the Daugavkrasti Hotel, at the end of a tenament housing estate, a red-brick "ex-Gulag" that had its own rusting iron watchtower with a commanding view over the greasy river Daugava that oozed past the crumbling facade of our accomodation. Despite the helpful receptionsist's efforts to assist us, we were uneasy about the safety of our bikes, and dismantled them fully, storing everything in the rooms. We had the distinct impression, aided by the drunks that stumbled around, and in, the hotel area, that everything that wasn't "nailed down" would walk.

It has to be said that, without the assistance of Inga, who appeared to be cleaning lady, receptionist, cook, barperson, Manageress and security guard, all at the same time, our time would have been more difficult. In fact, during our meal, she told us that, she too, was concerned for the security of the bikes, and that we should bring them in to the hotel, riding them down the parquet corridor between the rooms! This was a first, and an opportunity not to be missed!

Inga was largely responsible for our evening meal, which was washed down with locally brewed beer, and finished off with a black, syrupy substance called "Balzams", which resembled a cross between Covonia, lighter fluid and the residue from a coffee percolator.

Sadly, the night was a long and noisy one, with a local dog being the attention of a number of vociferous male suitors, and the half-hourly, mile-long goods trains that squealed their way through the night, just the other side of the river. We have decided to have an early start tomorrow morning......

Day 17/18 - 28 April - (Jekabpils - Kaunas) - miles covered 195

I hesitate to say that the weather is becoming monotonous in its perfection, in case I prompt things to change, but we awoke to another clear blue sky.

The bikes had passed a trouble-free night in the corridor, resting on the ancient parquet flooring - this was definitely going to have been their "safest" storage on the whole trip!

As the fishermen started to chase their first catch of the day, only 20 yards from the entrance to the Hotel, we made our way to an ex-disco bar, where breakfast was being served. The local delicacies, known as "pankukas" and "pelmeni" just had to be sampled, and then re-sampled to be sure that they were as nice as the first try. A third visit to the "traditional" section was absolutely essential, before embarking upon the re-loading of the bikes.

What appears to be the main road in Latvia would not even compare to a B-road in the UK, but it followed the Daugava river for some 50 miles, as far as Daugavpils, where we turned off to make our way to the border.

The border crossing comprised a series of once-imposing wooden "lodges", overlooked by long-abandoned watchtowers, rusting into the weed-covered search areas. The only "official" presence that we saw, were two uniformed locals, lounging in what appeared to be a Foresty Commission van, doors open, feet sticking out of the windows, peaked hats pushed back on their heads. A wave as we passed produced no more than a bored nod, and we had arrived in country 12 of our epic journey!

From the virtual perfection of Estonia (perhaps it was as a result of the stark contrast with Russia?) to the evident lack of public investment in Latvia, our first experience of Lithuania was of a country that was right in the middle of a major effort to rebuild EVERYTHING. I have never before seen, let alone ridden along, a road that was undergoing such extensive rebuilding, for over 60miles! Everywhere, throughout nearly two hours of riding, hundreds of construction workers, like a colony of ants, were frantically rebuilding the "highway", and the plant involved would put McAlpine's to shame!

The experience of riding this route, however, was NOT to be recommended! The dust that we inhaled was on a par to our riding in Russia, and our black and grey clothing gradually became the same reddish-brown colour of the clouds that were being thrown up by the lorries, as their huge wheels slewed through the edges of the broken tarmac. It was with some relief that we hit the last twenty miles into Kaunas, on a newly-finished section, and our arrival at the first likely looking restaurant was accompanied by a fine shower of dust, as we shed our jackets.

The Kaunas hotel, once found (try 6 tours of the town, and then realise that you've passed it five times!) is a real gem. Priced in the same bracket as our "Gulag experience" of the previous night, it has to be one of the friendliest, best-equipped and relaxed hotels we have ever stayed in. We mentioned the need to have a bath, and were immediately "upgraded", at no extra cost, to two rooms that shared their own "GOLF COURSE" on the patio. It was the eve of Andy's Birthday, so we decided to take a rest day, tomorrow, and settled down to a two-night stay in Kaunas. In the rooms, we were invited to dine in the Hotel's traditional restaurant, the great incentive being a 20% discount on the total bill!

Good news was received from Judy in that our farewell presents from "Ken's Commando's" have been rescinded and we are no longer required to pay the Parking Tickets that were issued for our Bikes being parked on the pavement outside The Royal Automobile Club for PR purposes prior to our departure. If someone from Westminster Council does follow our exploits, Thank You.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in "personal admin", and I have to say that the gym, pool and spa rivalled any I have ever experienced!

As if things couldn't get any better, our arrival in the restaurant was greeted with a glass each of their own, "home grown" SAMANE moonshine, which actually, whilst a very good idea to "encourage" the evening, can be a little dangerous (55%!). Upon hearing of Andy's impending "advancement", the staff kept bringing new glasses of the fiery liquid that was followed, after a superb meal, by some of their ZALGIRIS (75%!!!). Feeling very well indeed (hic!), we went outside, onto the veranda, to enjoy the balmy night air, only to be met with the sight of three huge cruisers (two Harleys and a "wannabee"), parked beside the sitting area. The three obvious owners, locals who were very hospitable, welcomed us to join them, and several more Jalgiris were consumed, over tall tales and great amusement, until the arrival of Andy's birthday.

The next morning arrived somewhat slowly, although the weather gods continued to smile upon us. It was, perhaps, the only time that we would have preferred the sun not shine quite so brightly!

We have discovered a wonderful "snack", that forms the perfect accompaniment to a few cold beers. It is called "BASTURMA" and is like a cross between South African Biltong and a Lamb Tikka. It is absolutely delicious, although "repeats" somewhat, and for some time after!!

Most of our rest day was spent in getting things ship-shape, the only drawback about this great location being the insecure internet access, and we are paranoid about trashing all the work done. We have decided, therefore, to wait until we have secure access, before sending the next batch of photos and diary entries to our "home angel", Sara Jane (I really hope she knows how glad we are that she is there for us!).

Day 19 - 30 April - (Kaunas - Plock) - Miles covered: 316

In light of the staff's advice about morning rush-hour in Kaunas, Andy and I decided to make an early start, not least because we had some 300+ miles to cover today.

Isn't it strange how, when you know you have to get up early, and go to the trouble of organising a wake-up call, you always wake up long before that alarm, and seem to spend so long waiting for it to go off!?

A delicious breakfast kick-started the day, but, for the first time, the weather seemed to change as we approached "take-off", and we actually rode out of the hotel grounds into a light rain. Ever positive, though, we agreed that this might dampen down the dust, and perhaps clean some of the "insect armageddon" from our screens.

We were lucky in that, even at 0730hrs, the roads were starting to become more and more congested, but we seemed to be at the head of the queue, and were soon riding free, on our way to the Polish border.

The drizzle never became much more than that, but it served to remind us exactly how lucky we had been, and helped sharpen our senses, not least because, as we drew closer to the Polish border, the general standard of driving became more and more appalling

On arriving at the border crossing, it felt as though we were entering an abandoned film set, from an early Bond episode, complete with watch towers and sinister-looking "containment" buildings, but it was all completely deserted. The total lack of border control does disturb us a little.

Once in Poland, we again found ourselves amongst extensive road repairs, and the Kamikaze Polish drivers could compete with the Russians for complete stupidity!

We literally fought our way through the traffic, witness to the complete disregard that the Poles, whether in huge "artics" or ordinary cars, accord to double white lines, oncoming traffic or blind corners. We lost count of the number of expletives that resonated in our headsets, as 50 tonnes of snarling metal, dust billowing around its enormous frame, charged directly towards us, with no obvious escape available! The incredible thing is that nobody seemed to think this unusual, as the lines of traffic calmly opened up to allow the offending vehicles a place in the queue.

It was with some great relief that we arrived on the southern outskirts of Plock, made more pleasant by the fact that the hotel sat beside a calm lake upon which, as the sun started to set, fishermen were attempting to land the last catch of the day. If we hadn't been so exhausted by the day's concentration, we would surely have joined them.

Once again, we find ourselves inconvenienced by the vagiaries of technology, as our intentions to send the next batch of photos and diary to the UK were thwarted by a system that simply refused to work. Hey Ho! On to the Czech Republic tomorrow.....

Day 20 - 1 May - (Ostrava, Czech Republic) - Miles covered: 267

Leaving the lakeside setting of the Debowa Gora Hotel, we continued to head south and on a Bank Holiday were treated to the relatively light flow of traffic on the roads. Trying to avoid the main routes through big cities we chose to navigate by smaller less used roads and generally did quite well, although the Sat Nav had very little mapping to assist us and often just displayed an arrow with the caption "Driving South", but the comfort was that the arrow was pointing in the right direction and matched our researched directions and map.

Through the villages and towns which were too small to show on our maps, we passed locals engaged in normal bank holiday activities of gardening, painting, car washing and watching football games on village sports grounds.

At an interesting stop for lunch, where as no english was spoken, we resorted to making "clucking noises" to establish that chicken was one of our choices for lunch. However we got by and the meal filled the void. Having no local currency we established (before ordering) that the owner would accept euros and duly paid before continuing on our way. When we received the bill, for several soft drinks, two meals, dessert and coffees, we were incredulous that the owner only asked for ten Euros. That has to have been the best value for money meal in a very long time!

The rain showers came and went in the afternoon. At one point we were directed to stop at the roadside by the local police and held while a cycle race passed us in the opposite direction. Surprisingly we attracted no interest from the local constabulary and were totally ignored while the bicycles whizzed by. At the all clear signal from the trailing police car we continued towards the Czech Republic border and it wasn't too long before, as the undulating ground dropped away to our front, were we treated to a spectacular view across the hills and distant mountains of country number 14 on our list.

Once again, the border crossing ressembled a ghost town, with disused barrack blocks and watch towers gradually rotting into the dust.

As if to welcome us to the 14th country on our list, the sun came out and, after 5 countries of stubborn "indifference", Sally finally woke up, and resumed her historic accuracy, even warning us of a new road system in the first village that we came to! I find it incredible how, by crossing an almost non-existent line in the fields, GPS systems can change from more-than-useless inconveniences to confidence-inspiring allies that encourage you to push the boundaries of your exploration to the full!

We soon arrived in our evening destination of Ostrava, as the sun glazed the copper-clad rooves of the many churches, and our arrival into the cobblestone courtyard of the ZAMEK ZABREH hotel was a revelation. On our approach, through the ex-Soviet era tenament buildings that surrounded this little gem, we were subjected to memories of our Latvian experience, and even wondered whether the bikes would be spending the night "indoors" again. The contrast couldn't have been greater, as this hotel is definitely one to return to!

A quick run through the delights of the Zamek Zabreh: Friendly, extremely helpful staff; They brew their own beer!; They make their own Sliwowitze!; They have a beautiful pub, in the eaves of the "west wing"; They have an amazing restaurant, serving a delightful range of Czech specialtities, all of which are delicious; The rooms are a wonderful blend of "shabby chic" and functional form, with feather pillows, radiators that work, flat-screen TV's, thoughtful amenities and great showers; The blend of hunting trophies, suits of armour, stone flooring and tasteful furniture make this place somewhere that has to be visited! But the best thing is, for all of this and more, the price is less than that of a Travelodge in the UK. HOW CAN THEY DO THIS?!!

After several complimentary Sliwowitze, purely as an aid for a sound night's sleep, we retired to our rooms. Some kind soul had opened my window for me, to allow the balmy night air drift into my scrupulously clean, pine-floored bedroom, and I looked out to my very own clock, set into the copper-clad roof of the nearby church. This clock, as if to welcome me to the town, had even chimed as I arrived, but was thoughtful enought to keep quiet during my slumber (or, perhaps, the Sliwowitze had blocked out the sound?).

We awoke to a return to clear blue skies, and felt invigorated by the satisfaction of a good night behind us, an excellent breakfast, and the knowledge that the open road lay before us, with all that it had to offer.........