Between the seas
N 45°21'20.8'' E 036°28'29.0''Once again it has been proven that rising fears can make life difficult and, as last night showed, are mostly useless. I crawl out of our fabric dwelling, somewhat exhausted, and wonder at my own thoughts from yesterday. Everything is peaceful and no one has attacked us. Ibragim gives us a friendly welcome. He actually slept in the small house to look after his sheep, as we suspected. “Looks like rain,” he says thoughtfully, pointing to the dark cloudy sky. “Yes,” I reply, shivering a little. “Why don’t you go to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan? The countries in western Central Asia lie at a much more southerly latitude. There are few mountains there. That’s good for your cycling trip, isn’t it? And above all, it’s much warmer. No rain and no snow. This is a much better way to get to China than your planned route via Voolgograd, Saratov Samara, Omsk and Novosibirsk,” he suggests. Interested, we unpack our cards and take a look at his proposal. “Sounds exciting,” says Tanja. “Yes, that’s right. We can look into the idea sometime. But at the moment, I also find Russia interesting.” “That’s true again,” she agrees, which is why we continue to think about Russia for the time being.
After a hearty breakfast, we leave Alie and Ibragim. As in previous days, the wind is blowing gently towards us. Only about 15 to 20 kilometers to our left is the Sea of Azov and to our right the Black Sea. For the first time in our lives, we are traveling to a narrow strip of land that separates two seas. Again and again we look out to catch a glimpse of the two seas, but hills and haze prevent us from seeing them. The dwellings of the rural population living here are often simple. There is no longer any sign of the wealth of the Crimean peninsula. Some of the elevations remind us of Moldova. From time to time, the road climbs very slowly up to an altitude of 115 meters, only to drop down to minus ten meters. I wonder about the depth below zero. But since these are data from our navigation computer, I can hardly doubt them, provided I have calibrated it correctly.
In the early afternoon, we pant up a hill and roar behind it into the harbor town of Kerch. We check into a run-down Eastern Bloc bunker right next to the industrial port in the city center, probably for the last time in Ukraine.
