Grapes, Figs, and Dips in the Sea

Riding across the vast plains of southern Russia we had a hard time imagining what any government could possibly want with all of this flat, dry land. As it stands now, the federation is the largest country in the world. Trying to picture all of this PLUS the former CIS states is mind blowing given that Moscow is closer to New York than the Russian Far East. Here in the Crimean Penninsula, however, it is easy to see how a superpower would want to lay claim to a destination so removed from its core. This place is truly gorgeous and different in every way from the rest of the landscapes on our route. Riding through vineyards high above the sea in the shadows of alpine peaks we are exhaulted after 5000 kilometers of flat, flat and flatter. As we climb up, up, up we get the chemical-cardio release unique to riding big terrain and are reminded that, for us, life without mountains is just not complete. As we plunge down to the pebbly beaches and dive into the water we feel as free as the turns that ride the warm breezes above the surf. How interesting that it sometimes takes crossing a massive dry continent to remind one that it has been far too long since the last time you jumped in the sea. The Crimean is nothing less than paradise for us at this moment and it is no surprise that this unique penninsula has been fought over and sought after for millenia.

Our arrival here was another comic exercise in useless beaurocratic tape cutting. Russian immigration officers held us for an hour before our "interview" which amounted to little more than a discussion of popular culture subjects. This comes up regularly in such situations and it is strange (but typical) that silly films and songs, created in a factory-like atmosphere on a couple of the most uninspiring square miles in the great state of California, have again and again taken the masses of the world by storm. Following this we waited in the shade of a Russian Olive tree that jutted out of the cement in the "Zone of Customs Control" with people who seemed less than humored about the whole affair, before getting our stamps from customs. The officials had ample time to look through our bags before we boarded the ferry but preferred to smoke cigarettes instead. The ferry across the Kerch Strait (where the Black Sea and the Sea of Asov mix) took a whopping twenty minutes. After disembarking we found ourselves in a line of people carrying only small suitcases. We thought this seemed a bit odd but were assured that we should remain in line, bikes included. Finally it was our turn to get checked in. This involved squeezing our fully loaded bicycles through the door of immigrations and past a window where a fat man in a box stamped our cards. Where we had left blanks in our cards they told us what to write. The fact that what we wrote was mostly a bunch of lies was obviously of no concern as nobody in their office could read English anyway. The Customs man asked the usual questions but did not so much as open a bag and into Ukraine we rode. Througout the entire process, we never completely dismounted from our bikes and actually began to ride before we had left the building. Yes, that's right, we rode out the door of the customs office. All totaled it took about four hours to make the crossing. Cutting red tape takes time, even when the "tape" itself is imaginary.

Culturally, the transition has been similar to crossing between the U.S. and Canada or Germany and Austria: united histories, same language, still quite different. Ukraine became an independant state following the collapse of the Soviet Union but is was not until the peaceful Orange Revolution in the winter of 2004/05 that the state gained its own two feet, so to speak, and the respect of the western world. At present, at least in this corner, the economy is booming, the culture is welcoming, and the people are quick to seperate themselves from the vast, rapidly inflating economy to the east. As a result the most expensive part of the country is surprisingly cheap and westerners like us are here without visas. Freedom from the whole visa regimen is a small but highly relieving change for us and we are happy to have the freedom to ride wherever we want without concern for border crossings. The only boundaries for us now are massive mountains and these are the sort of obstacles we like to cross.

To make matters more exciting, we are doubling our pace line tomorrow as we meet up with Julie and JP Boylan in Simferopol. Not only are they strong riders and good friends but they are crazy enough to take time out of their Aegean exploits to meet up with two sweaty crumbs like us out here on the fringes of western civilization. Furthermore, JP is the creator of our fine steel steeds and will be bringing fresh test rides for he and Julie. Together we will celebrate childlessness through childishness as we ride out of Ukraine and on to Romania. Beware Transylvania, team James Frames has regrouped and is about to breach the Carpathians!

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