Russia (Kind of) Without a Visa

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I was lucky enough to have a tail wind. That always helps. And I decided to get off the number 1 Tallinn - Narva - St Peterburg road. That wasn't all that much fun. Lot's of trucks, and unlike other countries, still not that many places to stop to have a coffee. (Really, if I could I would open up a coffee franchise here on these highways, there is a lot of money to be made). So, I stopped at a petrol station, had a coffee, and wait for it.... one of those hamburgers they sell there. Wrapped in plastic, a minute in the microwave and voila. Um, not the best decision I've made (cold around the edges, eeeeeew) but I ate it and really did have lots of energy after that.

So, onwards, onwards and then onto a small secondary road to ride along the coast. It was lovely. Just me, 10m away or so away a drop, and then just the blue of the Gulf of Finland. I wanted to see this waterfall which is Estonia's highest. The lady in tourist info did tell me that the viewing platform was closed but you could still see it from the road. Well, yes, that's true but honestly, if you've seen some big waterfalls, then this one will surely disappoint. Personally I wondered if I was really seeing a waterfall or whether it was some drain releasing its contents into the see. Oh well. It got me off the main road and on a nice road. But then it was back on the main road.

I have a little booklet called the Wayfarers' Churches. It's a booklet that outlines some of the churches in Estonia, of all different denominations, their opening times, prayer times and provides a brief description of what style the church was built in and my whom. Some churches also provide accommodation. I've kept it with me, because apart from the introduction by Pastor Joosep Tammo which really struck a chord with me about the spirituality of what wayfaring is, it's nice to know that if I was stuck I could look at the possibility of staying in a bed provided by the church. So, as I was heading to Sillamäe, I thought, oooh, there's an orthodox church there that has beds. Maybe? Actually yes and no.

When I got to Sillamäe it was around 5 in the afternoon. I had a bit of a wander around. It's a small town, previously more noted for supplying uranium to the USSR's nuclear energy programme but since 1991, the mine's been closed and the massive clean-up operation now with EU support is ongoing. It's also trying to reinvent itself as a hub for new and emerging enterprises. Although I personally wouldn't be in a hurry to start my life there it was a lovely little town. And it did have this orthodox church. Maybe not a life but a night? So I approached these two women, beavering away in the church gardens ensuring that there was, not even a blade of grass it seemed, where it ought not to be. Sign language confirmed that there was indeed beds but I would have to ask within the church. Next hiccup. Service had just begun and I didn't have a headscarf. No headscarf, no service. Um, did I really need to stay here? Could I continue on for another 20km. Well yes. It was still light, there was no sign of rain, a slight tail wind and well, no excuses. So, off I went. Narva-Jõesuu bound.

The road there was not too bad. As little time on the number one spent which was good before turning left into the coastal road. I arrived at the hostel - a very tired looking Soviet style block right on the beach - and made sure that as soon as I showered I got out and looked for somewhere to eat. The place was gloomy and kinda smelt a bit like damp and mothballs. Not the greatest of combinations and not one that is altogether welcoming. But the place I had dinner was another matter. TV (yay I hadn't watched TV in ages and although it was in Russian I didn't care - this may possibly make me someone with a TV addiction), great pancakes, beer and to top it off a very lively and entertaining bunch of 8-10 Russian women who came in, pushed tables together, ordered drinks, turned up the music and took the opportunity of some serious dancing along to Russian Europop. And ofcourse you gotta pick on the tourist shrinking away in the corner (ie me) knowing that before too long I too would be hauled up to dance amongst them. Sure enough... But I need more than a beer to get me to dance at the best of times so it was with GREAT reluctance I that I "danced". Half a song was enough. For me it was much more entertaining to watch the entertainment than to be the entertainment. And, after tea I called it a night. Back to my mothball smelling, damp feeling hostel. Gee sometimes I'm so glad I'm carrying everything with me. It was a great opportunity to bring out the sleeping bag.

After the effort of the previous day (124km) the following one was really just a warm up. I had a wonderful and kind send off by the man on reception at Narva-Jõesuu who helped me with all my bags and the bike and set off towards Narva just 15km away. Along the way I met a German, Olaf, who had just come from Russia and was enroute to Berlin. One month for 2,300km. Now, that made my ride look like a walk in the park. Which in comparison to what a lot of people are doing it does seem to be especially when the next stop is just 15km away, with a tailwind.

So I got to Narva and I think I spent more time trying to get my bearings and find tourist information than I actually spent riding my bike. But I got there in the end and had the kindest of help again from tourist information. Phone calls to places regarding accommodation was made, timetables for buses were printed, maps of the county and others were provided. No question was left unanswered. Not even the ones I hadn't asked. And so, I decided to stay at a hostel again, trying to save a bit where I can. I figure I can put up with a fair amount and I'm only there to sleep and if it's only for a night it's do-able. Now to find the hostel...

It took quite a bit of effort. A lot of map interrogation. A lot of people interrogation but I got there in the hand, helped by a kind lady who literally brought me to its doors. I swear I would not have found it otherwise because it was out of the city centre, in amongst other block style apartments. This hostel was not your backpacker hostel. This was a place for tourists (Russians?) that was more cost effective than staying in a guesthouse or hotel, and whilst rather rough around the edges (toilet bowl with a hole in it, things patched up, bedcover and floors with cigarette burns, wiring held together with electrical tape - you get the picture) but it was clean and efficiently run by about 3 Russian women. And it had a kitchen to cook meals. I really craved my peppermint tea so that was another reason I wanted to stay in a hostel. It's nice to eat food that is familiar at times too like muesli with yoghurt and a peppermint tea at the end of the night. Hotels, restaurants, well you get what you're given.

There's not all that much to see in Narva apart from its quite impressive fortress and a few monuments scattered about the place. But its proximity to Russia, like right across the river, and the fact that it is as close as you can get to being in Russia without actually being in Russia makes it quite an intriguing place to be and a compelling reason to go. People speak Russian, signs are in Russian, TV's in Russian, roads are a bit pot-holed, and there is, in my mind anyway, a more spontaneous open feel to the place that made me feel quite um, comfortable. Similiar to Serbia for me in some respects. Or other parts of the Balkans. I guess they are a Slavic cousin.

I took the bus from Narva to Jõhvi the next morning not exactly sure how long I would ride for that day but sure that I did not want to ride the same route back on the number one. As the bus drove out of Narva I counted 132 trucks waiting by the roadside for the border to Russia to be opened. That is 132 trucks from B-doubles to delivery trucks which snaked along for at least 2km and one toilet.

A quick getaway from bus stations almost always ensues especially as they are prone to attracting not the most savoury of people. Jõhvi was no exception. Seeing quite a number of dodgy people around always makes for very speedy bicycle assembling. And then go go go.

The road number 3 was fairly quiet. It's the major road to Tartu but, given it was a Saturday morning and most of the trucks in the country were in Narva it seemed and vehicular traffic was pretty light on, it made for some nice stress-free cycling. I was heading to the villages of the Old Believers, descendents of those who moved to the Lake Peipsi area following Peter the Great's push to be rid of those who persisted with the old practices of the Russian Orthodox church back in the mid-seventeenth century. Apparently church services are still conducted in Old Church Slavonic but I didn't attend a service. No doubt I would have needed a headscarf. It was picturesque countryside. And the villages, well, from the houses I could not really see any difference to those I have seen throughout the country but I did see a lot more Ladas around and ofcourse the churches were only Orthodox.

I had wanted to stay in Kolkja that night but you can imagine my disappointment when I saw that the road was closed (!!) What???! Not again. Not at the end of the day. Please. But yes, the woman at the petrol station said that road was closed and the nearest campground was five kilometres back from where I came. Right. A small moment of frustration followed by resignation. Back I cycled and, really the campground was beautifully located right on Lake Peipsi, cost all of 3 euro and was actually a nice place to be. Deservedly so after 117km and a late start. Plus, I met 3 young Estonian boys (young men) who were quite entertaining eating their Estonian cigars (pork sausages), drinking their beer, eating gherkins from the jar and playing their music rather loudly. Ear plugs in.

Next day I cycled 66km to Tartu via the Old Believers villages. It was a Sunday, people were out tending to their gardens (they're known around this region for growing onions) and tending to the graveyards. All kept in immaculate condition - vegetable gardens and graveyards.

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