On the largest river system in Asia

It drizzles all night. Dressed in rain gear, we crawl out of our tent into the wet countryside. Our clearing has nothing romantic about it anymore. Without having had breakfast, we push our bikes across the damp meadow. The master has decided to stop supporting us today. At only 10 degrees, we work against the moisture falling from the sky. “There’s a sheltered spot up ahead!” I shout after 30 strenuous kilometers, pointing to a sprawling group of bushes. We spread out our tarpaulin in their slipstream. As soon as we have settled down, Tanja discovers the first tick. During our lunch break, we keep checking our legs to make sure that one of the wooden bucks hasn’t snuck up on us again. In fact, four more of the Lyme disease carriers approach us in this short time. After eating, we quickly leave the obviously contaminated area and pedal on, invigorated by our meal.

The first hills rise up in front of us and provide a welcome change. At the side of the road we meet an 82-year-old woman offering home-gathered champions, porcini mushrooms and home-knitted sheep’s wool socks. Afraid of the coming cold, we buy the three pairs from her that are lying on a small stool. At the same time, a Russian takes all her mushrooms and Maria is delighted with the great deal. “Sometimes I sit here for days and nobody wants anything from me. But today is a good day. I got rid of everything I had to offer within minutes,” she explains. “How many socks do you knit?” asks Tanja. “Oh, I manage 24 pairs in winter,” she explains, not without pride. Tanja thinks for a while and then says: “So you need three days to make one sock?” “Something like that,” replies the nice old lady. Since the pair costs 4 euros, our extrapolation shows that Maria earns 8 euro cents per hour.

The road merges with another main road. Because of the double volume of traffic, we have to be very careful not to get caught out. About 100 kilometers before Novosibirsk, we reach the town of Ordynskoye, which lies directly on the Ob River. “I can’t manage 100 kilometers today,” moans Tanja, exhausted by the master. “Maybe we’ll find a gastiniza here,” I ponder, standing at the side of the road and studying my map. At this moment, a young man rattles past us on his moped. When Tanja waves, he stops and asks how he can help us. “We’re looking for a gastiniza,” I say. “Hm, Gastiniza?” he ponders and pulls out his cell phone. After a brief conversation, he asks us to follow him. Once again, we are guided into the small town by a complete stranger. We pass many houses, a traffic light, a small center, through a forest until we stop in front of a pretty house. “This is a former recreation center,” explains our helper. He immediately gets off his moped and asks if there is a room for us. “You can stay here. One room is still available,” is his good news as he comes out of the house. Then he shakes our hands and disappears. Tanja and I look at each other in amazement again. “Definitely another angel in human form,” I say. We move into a spacious four-bed room for 1,700 roubles (49 euros) a day with full board for both of us. Fantastic. Not cheap for a long-term traveler but very fair for the service offered.

Before we go to dinner, we sit down on a bench in front of the very quiet spa hotel and enjoy the glowing sunset on the Ob, which is formed by the confluence of the Katun and Bija rivers in the Altai Mountains in southern Siberia. Since Siberia has one superlative after another with what it has to offer, we are no longer surprised to be sitting here on the banks of a watercourse that, with its 3,680 kilometers in length, trumps the Volga, the largest river in Europe, by 150 kilometers. In addition, the Ob, which later joins the Irtysh, forms the longest river system in Asia. For 5,410 kilometers, they wind their way through Siberia until the Ob flows into the Kara Sea in the far north. “These enormous dimensions are soon beyond my imagination,” whispers Tanja, snuggling up to me in the rising cool wind.

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