We arrived in Kirkenes (Norwegian border town) in the early evening and once we had got our bearings, headed back out to the campsite we had passed on the way in (there is only one). As we arrived the owner was just opening up the reception to book in another late arriving motorcyclist on a red R1100GS. Having said our hello's we quickly pitched tent hoping to eat early and catch an early night. Of course this didn't happen and we ended up spending much of the night talking to our newly made German friends, Marcos and Mathius. Mathius was the owner of the R1100GS we had spoken to briefly earlier at reception. We finally got to sleep around 1am, still in bright sunshine. .

The following morning we headed back into Kirkenes and headed straight to the Tourists Information centre (which we have gotten to know very well, read on). Kirkenes (contrary to what we heard) is a pleasant place with modern facilities and people willing to help. Almost all speak good English. Lisa and I had expected to find something more akin to a mid-west frontier town, lawless with the air bristling with distrust and unwanted curiosity. What we found was completely the opposite. That said, things are now getting serious and we are both more than a little apprehensive about entering Russia and leaving behind us the relative comfort, convenience and security of Europe. We know the language is going to be a major obstacle. We are determined to be as prepared as possible. Our kit is holding up well and as far as we know all our documentation is in order. We checked both bikes for the 20th time and after a fair amount of deliberation, decided that Lisa's Tyres (front and back) weren't going to make it to Moscow. Our Visa's start on the 22nd June and we have to leave Russia no later than 22nd July. Looking for tyres would start eating not our Visa time. There was is also a huge temptation to lean towards optimisms and convince ourselves in our excitement and eagerness to enter Russia, that her tyres were going to make it and that the horror stories we'd heard about Russian roads up here are exaggerated. In the end common sense got the better of and we have decided to get new rubber before we tackle Russia.

The hunt begins. Back at the Tourist Info centre we met Jan who politely asked (in perfect English) if we had all our papers and Visa's in order for Russia. We confidently answered "of course". Do you have the special Motorcycle import stamp? He asked off hand. "The What"? "…er, no I don't think we have, we didn't know we needed one and it wasn't mentioned by our Visa agency in London" I quickly replied. "Oh, I think you need one or else you wont get in". Jan's voice had changed and he was trying to break the news gently as he could obviously see from our reactions, the first signs of doubt and panic were beginning to set in. Lisa and I were thinking alike, both thinking that after all the preparation and mile sridden, were we about to be halted as our World trip was just begging? It was now 3:30pm and the consulate in Kirkenes was closed. We would have to wait and come back in tomorrow.

The evening passed with an unsteady tension as we could only guess what might happen the following day. Would the consulate even be able to grant us the stamp or was this something we could only get from the Russian Embassy in the UK? What would it cost? Along with a thousand other 'what if's'. We simply didn't know and could only wait and hope.

The next morning we headed back down the now familiar 2Km route into Kirkenes and parked up in front of the tourist information centre to walk the 100 yards to the Russian consulate. We had triple checked all our documents. Our earlier over confidence in tatters. We brushed ourselves down in a vain attempt to try and make ourselves look respectable. A few hand brushes isn't going to remove 4 weeks of Norwegian road grime and weather. The buildings exterior is bland but very official and with a few exchanged glances and a deep breath we strode towards the consulate door, it was now 12:05pm. Locked…the hand written note in Russian on the door said 'closed at 12pm'. 'Shit!…you've got to be kidding'. Lisa and I looked at the door again in disbelief as if staring at the door would some how open it. It didn't move. We were quickly resigned to coming back the following day. We tried to turn this negative into a positive and told ourselves that we could use the time to get the new tyres Lisa was going to need. We set ourselves up at the Tourist Info centre who had been accommodating and who also had on tap complimentary coffee and biscuits. Barbara strode into the Centre, the local female Harley Rider and with a few hasty introductions we were pointed in the direction of the local tyre supplier. 10 minutes later we were heading back to the T Info centre as no stock of Lisa's tyre size was kept. Mmmm, OK this is going to be a little harder than we thought. The rest of the day was spent making phone calls to BMW and continental in the UK, trying to sort out the fastest and least expensive way of getting the rubber to Northern Norway. The importer in Finland managed to get hold of a set of TKC 80's but our hopes were dashed later after a call telling us that he could not ship them to us as Norway was not part of the EU. This pretty well set the pattern for the rest day.After a restless night we made our way in to Kirkenes and again parked up in our now usual spot. The first order of the day was tackling the Russian Consulate. This time the door opened. We peered inside. No people, one barren room and a lone desk placed squarely in the centre. We edged inside like schoolchildren entering the headmaster's office. I already wanted to confess to …everything. We stood in front of the only glass window in the room and smiled politely at the lady behind the counter, expecting a 'hello'. Nothing. No nod of acknowledgement, no smile, no words, just a dour and disgruntled expression. "What do you want"? She finally demanded. We explained what we thought we needed and hoped for the best. She looked us up and down with suspicion and asked if we had applied for the vehicle import stamp in the UK. "Yes", we lied, trying not to look guilty. "Give me your passports and Visas", she demanded. Lisa quickly asked if she wanted to see the vehicle documentation, we were told, "NO"! A large official stamp was place on the Visa's and a quick signature added and the passports were handed back. "Is this the stamp we need, we asked"? "YES"!!! came the reply. We made a hasty but polite retreat outside amazed it had been so simple and stunned it had cost us nothing. Hah, brilliant. We're still waiting for the catch. With our stamp in place we could now make our way into Russia but not before sorting out the tyre problem. Finally at 5:30 we had a result. Stige, the owner of the Norwegian import company (for Continental) had agreed to despatch two tyres to Kirkenes on an overnight special and because of our fund raising efforts and 'big trip', that he would pick up the delivery tab and that they would be delivered to a Continental dealer in the area (who turned out to be the Esso garage). To cap it off, he also agreed to supply the tyres at cost and so we only have to pay £75. Thank you Stige.

Yesterday in between phone calls we were also introduced top Olga. Olga is the only Russian working at PasvikTurist AS, the local travel company and her help proved vital in communicating with BMW Mottorad Moscow. Every one we meet is still warning us about the roads so we figured it was a good idea to at least introduce ourselves to BMW Moscow before pitching up and trying to get the bikes serviced after their ordeal. Kirkenes to Moscow is 1,100 miles away, by which time the 1100GS (Daffy) will also be in need of some new shoes. Olga was a star, making call after call in order to get through to the right person in order to make the appropriate introductions and gather the right information. She has also suggested that we call her 3-4 days before we arrive in Moscow so she can again contact BMW to confirm our arrival. This kind of help is priceless and naturally we wanted to thank her (and her boss for giving her the time and not charging us for all the International phone calls), so quick visit to the nearest florist, saw me returning with a pot plant (flowers are very hard to come by around here) and a card of thanks.

Turistinformasjon Kirkenes (Tourist Info Centre)
Jan Erling Saue
Presteveien, Postboks 145
N-9915 Kirkenes
Tel: (+47) 78 99 25 44
Fax: (+47) 78 99 60 87
Email: info@kirkenesinfo.no
www.kirkenesinfo.no

The last few days have been frustrating as we wait for tyres. Each day we're told, "maybe, 12pm, maybe 2pm, maybe 4pm…maybe tomorrow". Yesterday we had some news on the tyres. Espen, one of the guys at the tourist info centre kindly called the Conti tyre importer in Norway; we were informed that Stig was now on holiday but we were given the parcel delivery number. As it turned out, the tyres hadn't been sent express as promised but by normal post instead. At least we now know why we're waiting. A few calls later and we've tracked down the tyres to a lorry in Alta about 550Km to the south. The tyres are now due to be here Monday 30th. Frustrated at watching our expensive Russian Visa being wasted as we wait, there was only one thing to do…spend money we don't have and treat ourselves to a meal. Who says comfort eating can't be medicinal? A quick wash and tidy up and we're off again riding daffy into Kirkenes, our chosen venue was the horribly expensive 'Vin & Vilt', which is 'Wine and Game'. The first challenge of the evening was opening the huge cast steel door which was made heavier by the fact that it was completely covered, inside and out with small trees. Yes I do mean small trees! In an attempt to make the place stand out, the walls of the entire restaurant had been covered in tree trunks cut in half length ways and then bolted to the walls including the front door. The restaurant was empty but we were met by the owner with a smile and offered hangers for our embarrassingly dirty bike jackets. We were seated and offered aperitifs, shit we thought, this is going to be expensive. Oh well to late now. We spent the next 2 hours eating as slowly as we could, savouring every mouthful as if it were the last meal of a condemned pair. Braised tongue of reindeer to start, followed by wild boar for me and reindeer steak for Lisa. O God this is good we thought to ourselves as taste buds dulled by weeks of pasta were once again reawakened. Our host offered wine and Lisa decided to push the boat out and enjoyed two glasses of the red stuff. Wine was not something we'd had for a while. However, at £7 a glass a bottle was definitely more than we could afford. Besides I didn't drink as I was riding and Norway has a 'zero tolerance' policy for drink driving. Even a glass could see you saying bye, bye to your license as you also watch a large chunk of currency leave your pocket for the fine. You have been warned! Our host had defiantly taken a shine to Lisa, as he jokingly offered to scrap the bill if Lisa would join him upstairs. Lisa smiled a reply and said she was to tired to make the stairs. "I will carry you", quickly came the answer". "I'm heavier than I look" lisa remarked, between several darting looks at me. Our host undeterred simply replied with a very rye smile and a glint in his eye, "my dear, I'm stronger than I look". Offers declined, bill paid and belly's full, we said our farewells to Lisa's admirer and made our way back to our canvas home. We had promised one another that we weren't going to eat, drink or ride for the next few days to make up for the budget we lost in this single evening.

The following day we received some great news from Lisa father who'd a found a cheque made out to me a year earlier in one of the pockets of a jacket now being stored. I'd obviously forgotten about it. Allen had kindly called the issuer and a new cheque had been written and deposited in our account. The cheque was only pennies under the bill amount from Vin & Vilt. All the guilt we were feeling for our outrageous extravagance was quickly replaced with smiles of relief. Monday arrived slowly and at 12pm so did Lisa's tyres. We stripped both wheels off her bike and found a local garage to put on the new rubber. After a little pleading we were only charged £19 to change both tyres and we were once again ready to make a move. Unfortunately Russia was going to have to wait, it was now 3pm and with lengthy delays expected at the border we were going to have to leave our departure until the following day in order to get to Murmansk the same evening. Wondering around Kirkenes that evening we bumped into Jan from the tourist info centre who offered to help us while away our last few hours in Norway with a proper tour of Kirkenes. At 7pm Jan pitched up grinning in his shiny 4X4. After almost 2 months on the bikes a car was a novel experience. First port of call was 'The Norwegian Grand Canyon' in reality the local mine. The mine - Sydvaranger - opened in 1906 and iron ore and gangue were taken out up until 1996. The mine was an open cask pit and is absolutely bloody huge and is 10 k long!! To give you and idea as to how much earth has been removed in order to reach the ore, here's an example: enough iron ore and gangue were taken out to build a highway 10 metres wide and 6 metres high from Kirkenes to Oslo which is 2500 km! What was removed in this 90-year period was 488 million tons of rock!! It truly deserves its commercial name as the Grand Canyon of Norway. Jan was a mine of information (sorry, no pun intended) and we began to get a better understanding of the place we had been living in for a week. Kirkenes lies at 30 north and 30 east and is as far east as Istanbul and Cairo as just as far north as Point Barrow in Alaska. Temperatures can drop as low as -52 c in Feb. Despite this bitter cold we both agreed that to come back when the area has had snowfall would be beautiful. As the evening went on we learnt more about the area and the Sor-varanger municipality….and we were also learning more about Jan who had become a friend and whose help and patience had proved invaluable over the last week. Only a few days after we were due to leave Jan, at 21 years of age, was going to be made the youngest ever Managing Director of Tourism for the municipality - a fact he proudly mentioned on a couple of occasions. We finished our evening with a couple of burgers washed down with a local cold beer.Back at the campsite we said our farewells and began to pack up ready to leave the following morning - it really was a lovely way to spend the last few hours of our Scandinavian trip.