What to say about today!
We set off at 10:00am
Barely an hour in an Ivan cracked the shits. Blake and Mitch showed concern over the noise Ivan was making and we pulled over to find the muffler doing nothing but banging loosely against the side of the bike.
A 20 minute pit stop had it re-attached, an oil change completed and new problems identified. Apparently the gearshift/kick start array is experiencing oil leaking difficulties – a problem that is still not resolved.
We moved on dashing through the chaos of the streets for all of about 10 minutes before Ivan’s rear right stabiliser decided it was jumping ship and flew off into the path of Blake, who had no idea what he’d just hit.
The rain pelted us for just long enough to make us pull over and consider pulling on ponchos before fucking right off.
My place on Ivan is at the rear of the pack. Ivan in a past life was rear admiral Ivan of the Tzars imperial navy and he seems to remember it quite well. He struggles to keep up with Frankie and Blake’s unnamed bike.
Whilst in this position Ivan likes to slack off and sleep whilst no one is watching. On one such occasion on a downward hill of loose gravel, trucks rushing past, Ivan decided it was time for a nap. After I rather rudely woke him up by kicking ten shades of shit out of his kick start we roared off to catch the others – who had turned around to come back to me. Luckily we spied each other going the opposite directions between a bus and truck playing chicken. Whilst waiting for the others to catch up I pulled over at a petrol station and removed the key so no Vietcong could make a sneak attack for Ivan (fuck knows why they would bother). The others caught up and we went to set off, but Ivan refused to budge. Mitch took over the process and we even ran round the petrol station trying the push start it, but to no avail. Mitch finally out of ideas and looking somewhat overwhelmed at the enormous task that is a 40 year old Minsk motorcycle promptly asked me for the keys, which were still in my pocket – and hence why Ivan wouldn’t budge.
On another hill with even worse loose gravel Ivan got nappy again. This time Mitch had to double back and assist with the shit kicking of this soviet scallywag and Ivan very slowly fell over and nearly pushed me down a ditch. Meanwhile on this road construction, if that’s what it is, a Grader (a construction truck with a large plow that flattens out the gravel proceeded to almost collect Frankie whilst blocking traffic in every direction.
Lunch break.
We took off and came into surprise surprise another town. In Vietnam it is of crucial importance that roads be built from scratch at the same time as they are being used. No detours, no traffic management, nothing. Both traffic and construction happen simultaneously. It creates these town roads of complete disarray and utter chaos. There is no plan, no path no idea, we rode past a massive ditch at least as deep as the height of a person on our right and a complete log jam of every type of large vehicle on the other. Whilst riding past this trench we noticed that the Vietnamese had decided to fill it back in and had started by tipping in a full size CAT excavator, a power-line and the front of some poor bastards house.
We finally started to leave the towns behind us and head into the country. With our first few brief mountain passes Ivan being the great comrade that he is decided to set the bar for new achievements. Whilst trying frantically to catch Kim and Blake to advise them that they had just lost some cargo (a poncho that Ivan collected with his front tyre) Ivan exploded against my leg, I glanced behind me expecting to see a loose ocky strap, instead spied my luggage disappearing downwards. I quickly pulled over and flagged down the others to find Ivan had dropped his battery straight on the ground. Two seconds later Mitch arrived and four seconds later the rain like nothing else pelted down. In the two second Mitch had to view Ivan his face and dreams or reaching Hanoi faltered. Ivan was passing out oil and fuel everywhere. We simply stood on the side of the road under the roof of a road side stall and house and Mitch couldn’t even speak. Yet again the Belorussian had failed, and this time seriously. Blake and Kim finally joined us as the rain took on a fresh intensity.
We stood and stared at Ivan pissing out bodily fluids in the rain like a fallen comrade on the battlefield. He hadn’t even lasted a day.
We finally decided to take a look at him and see if it was worth investigating. Blake suggested a match would be appropriate and Mitch remarked that it would probably spark itself and catch fire if the battery wires crossed. It would seem Ivan was trying to euthanise himself but could even do that without fucking up.
We pulled apart the carburettor to perform open heart surgery and adjusted the float. The fuel stopped, the briefest hope filled our hearts, Blake started the kicking… And Ivan stated silent. After Mitch took over, more so for novelty sake, there was a small sound of life that grew with every kick. Ivan was coming back!
On about the 70th kick Ivan groaned reluctantly back to life to the complete disbelief of everyone and the loud cheers of us!
And we were off again… It was approximately 5:30pm and we were still 60k’s from our overnight stop point. The night was pressing in the rain was faltering and we set off into the mountains. As we climbed we passed through some of the most spectacular and terrifically lush scenery. The roads wound and twisted through the mountain passes and the light kept fading, the rain relented and the fog and mist took over, the road grew darker and darker. Lights and shapes loomed out of the darkness from every direction as we dashed and darted through hairpin turns. the valleys and gulches to either side now enveloped in darkness. The trucks come towards us as a low yellow light and then burst from the fog with their high beams and horns blazing and we real from the sudden blindness.
In his usual sadistic attitude Ivan took to this new challenge and didn’t fail. He clearly had a new lease on life after being fixed by Blake – the Minsk Doctor. A fail on that road would have been the end of both Ivan and me.
We finally pulled out of the mountain passes and made our way into a town. Exhausted, tiered, burnt and sore we made a bee line straight to the first hotel and checked in. We were still 30k’s from our intended night stop and it was now 8:00pm
Good night!
Searching 4 Stan 