To the limits

As soon as we leave the city, the crosswind hits us again with full force. To make matters worse, the road bends a few degrees to the east and the gusts hit us from the front. As if huge hands were holding us back, we barely reach more than seven to a maximum of eleven kilometers per hour. Our legs let the cranks spin in sixth gear. A gigantic effort. As in previous days, the route is as straight as a die. No survey. Did we think we could cover good kilometers on this level? And now this. Nobody said that such a trip is easy and I have never read that cycling with a lot of luggage over long distances in foreign countries is a piece of cake. This storm has now had the entire lowlands of the Sea of Azov in its grip for a good 50 hours. Even stronger than yesterday and without a single cloud in the sky. Strange. Russia already offers strange situations in the first two weeks. First this inexplicable rush to register and then a constant storm under a steel-blue sky. Unfortunately from the completely wrong direction. Under no circumstances will we reach our destination today. Although our journey is not necessarily about the number of kilometers covered, but about being on the road, getting to know the country and its inhabitants and being able to mature based on the experiences we have made, I would still like to reach our destination. The ego is simply a part of our human existence. Well, the main thing is to be healthy. Only the fun falls by the wayside during these exertions.

After 30 kilometers, we look for a place to give our bodies a break. Unfortunately, there is no suitable place to be seen far and wide. There are no trees to hide behind. As before, the road barely allows itself a bend and to the left and right we only see fields that have been pressed into the skin of Mother Earth with a protractor. We try the ditch, but even there we are almost blown out. Then an avenue of trees appears lining the asphalt strip. “Hurray!” we shout. But even behind the thickest trunks it blows without end. My gaze falls upwards. The branches bend in the squalls and groan alarmingly. “We have to get out of here,” I say emphatically, because just a little further on one of the big trees has recently been blown down. More staggering than driving, we continue our odyssey today. Then a strong gust of wind lifts us both out of the saddle. Our legs hit the ground in a fraction of a second to prevent a fall. Tanja and I look at each other in amazement. No comment. What else is there to comment on? Our strength is dwindling. The nearest village is a long way away. Camping here in an open field is impossible. Firstly, not allowed in Russia and secondly, far too dangerous. What’s more, we have nowhere to hide our camp. Not a bush, not a tree. Then finally, after a long time, we discover a promising row of trees separating two fields. We are lucky to find some slipstream there. We fortify ourselves with hearty food. Then it goes on. Further and further into the wind. How should I describe this situation? It is not a nightmare, but undoubtedly something similar.

After more than six hours, we reach the village of Starominskaya. Immediately after the town sign, we can duck back into the shelter of the houses and buildings. “That’s good!” exclaims Tanja. In fact, we are lucky again and find a Gastiniza. However, the operator first has to call the local militia to ask whether she is allowed to take in two German travelers at all. “I don’t have a license to accommodate foreigners,” I understand. Since today is Sunday, there is no police officer in the office. It takes time. I’m waiting. Meanwhile, Tanja guards the bikes. “I once accommodated two French people without having obtained permission from the authorities. I’m telling you, that was a bit of trouble,” she explains to me as the phone line rings at length. Then someone actually picks up the phone. The landlady smiles promisingly at me. She gives me a friendly wink and puts the phone down. “All right. You may stay. But please bring your bikes into the room. They’re safer there than outside,” she recommends. That’s fine with me too. Today, despite being tired, I would even drag the bikes up to the fourth floor. The main thing is that we have a place to stay for the night and protection from the nasty wind.

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