A drive across Russia
By: Michael Shipley
Date: 2000-06-19
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Getting started
Driving across Russia was never on my list of "Things To Do." Now, after 8,000 kilometers and 15 days by car, it's on my list of "Things Never To Do Again."
Why did two Germans, two Russians, and myself, an American, team up for such an adventure? The trip originated with a German named Helge who needed to ship family belongings to his new home in the Mongolian capital of Ulan-Bator. A friend and fellow German named Volker wanted to import equipment for his dental practice in the Siberian city of Chita. Volker also planned to purchase three German passenger cars for resale in Russia to recoup the costs of the trip. Having recently relocated to Chita, I agreed to join as a driver, along with two locals, Sergei and Oleg.
Helge and Volker flew to Germany in early May. There they bought and loaded their trucks, and Volker additionally purchased two used BMWs and an Audi. Sergei, Oleg, and I waited for them at thePolish/Belarus border. "What happened to you?" we asked as they rolled into sight almost one week behind schedule. Both had lost considerable weight and more than one night's sleep. "You won't believe it," Volker said. "We had to repeatedly unload and reload each truck at border crossings. Officials even fined us for taking too long to fix a broken wheel." United at last, we set out across Russia.
The roads
My greatest surprise was that the trans-continental highway isn't a highway at all, but a narrow, two-lane road. Opposing traffic is separated by nothing but an occasional painted line down the center, with paved shoulders a rare luxury. Kamaz trucks, horse-drawn carts, motorcycles, passenger cars, and bicycles all compete for space. Daydreaming was impossible when passing a string of 18-wheelers while ascending a curving mountain road. Half-way through the first day I lost count of the near misses. By the second day I gazed with only mild interest at the numerous roadside grave markers.
Potholes the size of washbasins turned otherwise smooth roads into jarring obstacle courses. Livestock were rarely fenced in, forcing us to slow for cows, horses, goats, pigs, and the proverbial chickens crossing the road. Potholes and passing were not the only hazards of the highway; about 1,000 kilometers were unpaved, with the longest stretches running from Tyumen to Novosibirsk, and from Sayansk to Irkutsk. Drivers can avoid some sections by detouring through Kazakhstan. However, we bristled at the thought of more border checks with their endless delays and Kafkaesque bureaucracies, defiantly opting for the "rough rider" route.
As a result, we hauled the cars over roads layered with jagged rocks as large as tennis balls. The noise of stone against steel frequently punctuated (and twice punctured) our sense of well-being. The convoy collectively suffered three cracked oil pans, a leaking gas tank, a broken windshield, and two flat tires. Even mud took a turn at halting our progress. One of our 5-ton trucks bogged down on a particularly mucky 12% grade. Luckily, a tractor driver from a nearby work crew agreed to pull it free. Only one brief ten-kilometer stretch east of Angarsk met Western quality highway standards. Replete with streetlights, center divider, and flawlessly smooth asphalt, we savored the few minutes of driving pleasure.
Highway bandits
We had heard stories about the danger of such a drive. "Bandits will rob you and slash your tires," we were advised. "Some people," one acquaintance warned, "have simply disappeared along with their cars." Identifying highway bandits was an art in itself. Generally, any imported car carrying men with short haircuts and no female passengers was suspect. In fact, we were followed only twice, and each time without incident. All of our vehicles carried German plates-probably a protection. We theorized that bandits preferred to prey upon Russian nationals, whom the local militias felt little obligation to protect. Nevertheless, we were always cautious, avoiding conversations with strangers and sleeping in secluded wooded areas at night.
The GAI (Government Automobile Inspectors)
GAI-Russia's loose equivalent to the Highway Patrol-had checkpoints flanking virtually every town and village through which we passed. After the officers' initial disbelief at our multi-national caravan, they sometimes asked to change money, or for advice about their own imported cars at home. One particularly creative GAI squadron earned pocket money by triggering warning lights at a railroad crossing for long minutes, then issuing fines to any drivers bold enough-or bored enough-to finally proceed. Ostensibly commissioned to maintain law and order, the GAI were more of a nuisance than a force for justice.
End of the road
Our trip took 15 days, in part because our convoy included two heavily-laden trucks; passenger cars, however, can cover the same distance in half the time. If you are planning such a journey you might consider the following suggestions: 1) always travel in a group; 2) display foreign license plates; 3) detour through Kazakhstan to bypass bad roads; 4) carry a full complement of tools and spare parts; 5) pack plenty of food, water, and extra benzene canisters for long stretches between towns; 6) sleep in your car near GAI stations or in secluded areas off the main highway. (Fast food and motels have not made it out to Siberia yet.) Although the scenery in spring and summer is fantastic, this is not a relaxing tour. On the other hand, a drive across Russia may be a great experience for anyone with a little extra time and a sense of adventure.
Read two more articles about the author's adventures driving in Russia.
A golden highway , and
American meets Kalashnikov . 
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