Back on the Volga
N 50°46'19.4'' E 046°05'04.3''Dull, cold weather wakes us up. We load our bikes in the overheated anteroom of the Gastiniza. The women at our accommodation watch us curiously. “That you can get this far with such a small engine?” one of them wonders, pointing to the red raw-ox hub. “No, that’s not an engine. It’s the gear shift. The engine is our legs,” I reply with a laugh. Surprised confusion and raised eyebrows are the response. When the ladies of the house really understand that our bikes don’t have a motor, the excitement is perfect. “I would never go on a bike trip with my husband. Especially not if it takes that long,” says the cleaning lady. “Man or no man. It would be too exhausting for me,” replies the cashier. “Exhausting, yes, but what about the cold?” asks the cashier’s colleague. “And then they spend the night in a tent?” wonders a friend in high-heeled shoes who, like many of the women in Russia, is dressed in high fashion. The farewell is suddenly heartfelt. Tanja is given a rose which she puts on her handlebar bag. Then we take another photo and drive off waving.
It doesn’t take long for the sun to dispel all the clouds. A large blue sign points in the direction of Samara. Motivated, we rattle over the broken road. The wind comes from diagonally behind us and supports our rapid progress. The long, lonely arterial road is almost all ours again today. Only every five to ten minutes does a Lada or an old truck pass by. Shortly before the Volga we reach a trucker’s pub at 13:00 where three rooms are available for rent. We check in and enjoy a few hours of relaxation.
