Day 8 Into Russia (again)

Another interesting day to look forward to - Wednesday 23 July.

Today we set off from the campsite at Nida and cycle 4 km to the Lithuanian - Russian border on the Curonian Spit. It's exciting to be going into Russia once more but this time on bikes. The border consists of (from memory) 4 checkpoints. We see the real border with it's guard posts and searchlights - all quite reminiscent of the cold war. We meet polite and helpful officials on both sides and there is no paperwork this time (unlike entering from Finland). No photos are allowed but we ask to take this one looking into Russia - no problem as long as we don't turn round!



Sorry - it's badly exposed - it says Welcome to Russia anyway!

We spin into Russia for the second time (but the first time on bicycles). No-one questions Isla cycling (apparently it is illegal for those under 14 years old to cycle on main roads, which is why we could not start from Moscow). We head off in high spirits, enjoying the novelty of being in part a relatively unknown part of Europe - Kaliningrad.

The road down the spit is good. There is much less traffic than on the Lithuanian side, and only occasional signs of cars parked and tracks through the woods to the beaches. It is is delightful to cycle along at a brisk pace with little else to disturb us.

We stop for lunch and, before long, this inquisitive little fox cub approaches us, seeking food. We give him/her none.

As we approach the end of the spit and the town of Zelenogradsk, the traffic begins to get heavier. We experience some irresponsible overtaking and Andy picks up a stick from the woods, straps it to his rear panniers and ties a fluorescent pair of laces to the end and adds a bottletop for good measure. We concentrate on defensive cycling but before long a big red BMW passes too close and hits the stick (which of course simply gives), but not before the bottletop has done some damage. This encounter generates a surprisingly loud bang. We become even more defensive (Andy cycles in the middle of the lane).

The road from Zelenogradsk to Kaliningrad is busy too and gets busier. The traffic is a mixture of old family Ladas and massive BMWs and Mercedes. As with most of Russia, the roads were constructed during the Soviet period when there was very little traffic. Now, these same roads are having to cope with a huge increase in volume.

Defensive cycling is working well but before long we have long queues building up behind us. We begin to stop every 500m to let the traffic pass and them wait another 5 minutes for a pause to allow us onto the road again. We make slow progress and although we suffer less abuse than in Latvia but nevertheless, the stress is too much and 79 km into Russia, we decide to stop at a hotel for the night, 10km short of our intended destination, Kaliningrad city.

The hotel is rather grand, having obviously been recently renovated. It appears to be an old German manor house. There are stables and extensive gardens. We get a room for 3000 roubles (60GBP), We take a shower and wash some clothes. Soon there is a sulphurous smell - "are you eating eggs?" asks Isla from the shower. The washed clothes come out orange - the water is full of minerals - mainly iron and sulphur. Annoying - good quality cycling gear now has bright orange stains around the seams.

We head to the garden for supper. The menu is impressive - there is even a vegetarian section. We select a salad to start and then potato cutlets with mushrooms. The salad is good. Then we wait, we chat, we observe our fellow diners - all expensively dressed Russians. The car park is full of BMWs and Lexus cars. There is a model of Mercedes that none of us have ever seen - a huge affair with a rear door that opens automatically. They all have dark windows. The wine list advertises bottles of wine at 15,000 roubles (300GBP). Who are we dining with?

More importantly, where is our main course? We realise an hour has passed. It is way beyond our bedtime! Eventually our main course arrives - 2 small triangles of potato fritters and a piece of lettuce. We laugh and assume something else is coming. It doesn't - this is it. We scoff it in 5 minutes. This isn't cycling food! We pinch a basket of bread from a neighbouring table (after the diners have departed of course!). We scoff it all. Then a man from the neighbouring table introduces himself - you must be British he says - he is English and works for the company that makes the machines that make sure that all MacDonald burgers are the same. We chat about the new Russia.

There then follows a long wait for the bill before we give up and head to bed - still hungry.

Cycled 79.33 km
Busking earnings - 0
no punctures