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

We left the hotel late in the morning as we definitely needed a bit of a lie in and instead of leaving Murmansk straight away we decided to do some sightseeing. We headed for the largest monument we (and everyone else in Murmansk) could see, of the unnamed Russian hero soldier and after clambering up to have our pictures taken and taking in the view over Murmansk we tried to find our way out - easier said than done as this city like most others has a cunning 'hotel California' road system, which means you can come in but you can never leave! Eventually after having to rely solely on the GPS we got out of Murmansk. The road out was extremely long and straight and before long the now familiar potholes had returned to slow our progress further. It wasn't long before we had to stop for our first Russian petrol and backside break! After filling up and now with very heavy bikes we hit the worst stretch of road that I have ever had the 'pleasure' in riding - ahead of us was nothing but large rocks and sand. The Russians strip their roads down to the hard core and don't bother with contra flows or anything! I approached the rocks first and with horror felt my bike squirm all over the place - it felt alive and that I had absolutely NO control whatsoever! Everything was shaking and rattling - including my teeth - and within the first 10 feet I thought that I was a 'gonner'. Every time I felt the bike go I increased my speed and it pulled straight again just to loose traction all over again - I screeched, swore did heavy breathing and tried to relax and not grip the handlebars so tightly. I heard not a word from Simon as I was making too much noise for him to be able to get a word in edgeways via the Autocom (or so I thought!) Hurray!! A smooth bit, it's all over……….Oh NO! Its not I can see it stretching ahead for miles and miles…oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Exhausted we stopped on the side and took a breather. It was at this point that I found out that Simon wasn't being ultra cool and not swearing and deep breathing but that in fact our Autocom had come unplugged and he had thought that I was being ultra cool by being silent and concentrating!! Plugged back in we started again, thinking it could not get any worse…we were wrong of course! Another 10 km with lorries coming towards us and kicking up such a wall of grey stone dust that now we were not only slipping and sliding with no control we were riding blind with lorries heading straight towards us - we could hear them but not see anything! It went through my mind - one slip we could land in front of them and they could run over us and not even know it! Concentration was intense and after 15km of this we were both exhausted - but I was terribly impressed (and relieved) that neither of us had had a mishap!!

Passing by Monchegorsk and Polyarnye Zory was another period of hell….this is not an exaggeration….you just cannot believe the amount of pollution in the air. The now usual acrid smell of sulphur hit our noses and backs of our throats. The land is damaged forever - it is never going to recover - there are acres upon acres of deadness - the trees, rivers, lakes - all are dead. There are no birds - one thing that caught my mind as very appropriate was the telegraph poles, all were simple crosses - line upon line of crosses that look like they'd been planted deliberately by someone asking forgiveness. We stopped for a small break at what should have been a roadside café with a view of a beautiful lake - instead the view was of a dead lake - a lake with grey, green, purple hue to it - until this time I'd never known that a lake could look alive or dead - this one had been eaten alive a long time ago and was now decomposing. After many, many more miles had passed we gradually began to see life again in the tress around us and the birds returned - and so did the mosquitoes …in their hundreds! We had thought about wild camping tonight but each time we stopped we were covered within seconds and so changed our minds…Simon seems to be the favourite on the menu for the mozzies- I think they see 'tough old meat' when they look at my skin and so pass me up!

In my wisdom I had decide we should head towards Kem - well actually in my defence there was nothing else to head towards! It was now getting quite late and Simon and I were getting a little concerned that there would be nowhere to safely stay. We approached Kem, which is described in the Lonely Planets book as 'one of European Russian's most depressing towns' and had this feeling of dread…there will be nowhere safe here! We passed by a deserted concentration camp, which was set up during WWII and passed the many grey and dilapidated wooden houses, eventually stopping just off the centre of the town and decided to do a u-turn and continue riding. …but to where? In the middle of turning Simon was approached by a maroon sports car and I could only make out a lot of waving of hands and hotel mentioned…we had just been given directions to a hotel on the coast another 8Km on…do we go? We were nervous. The road doesn't look like it goes anywhere…. it could be someone sending us out to the middle of nowhere in order to meet up with his buddies and mug us…all of these things run through your mind! We arrived at the complex at near enough midnight…. and once again met the guy that had given Simon directions and found out that this was his complex. We checked in and were told that the $40 included breakfast and that they had no problem cooking us dinner! We gingerly went into the café area and a very cheery girl asked us if meat salad and meat was good…as it was now 1am this sounded great but did they really want to do this at this time in the morning! ? We were told "no problem - sit". The meal was fit for a king and all for a total of $7.

With stomachs full we headed for bed. The room was clean and comfortable and we sure the bikes were safe, guarded by 3 'bouncers' who continuously walked the grounds and each wearing there tattoos and black eyes like badges of honour.

In the morning after arranging with Vladimir at 10am to get petrol and roubles at his very modern garage (don't ask how he got money!) we set off and returned to the bumpy M18. The road was once again quite straight and apart from the now usual potholes and really dreadful road conditions we arrived in Petrozavodsk. This city was a surprise to us as it was much, much bigger than we had expected. Despite this we found the hotel that the Lonely Planet book had recommended but they were full! It had been another tiring day riding with lots of rain whilst being very muggy and the last thing we wanted to do was try to find a hotel room. The lady at reception told us that the town was very busy and all hotels in the centre were full! She rang a few numbers and said - " no, all are full". Aaggh…………..we stood there and must have looked so forlorn that she made some more calls and told us that if we could wait there would be a room made ready. We had no problem in waiting especially when we heard that the room and secure parking was going to be £9. The room was little more than basic and we had to share a municipal bathroom with the whole floor but it was cheep and clean and only for one night.

We wandered the town for a little while trying to find the restaurants that the Lonely Planets book had recommended but to no avail so ended up in the Petrovsky Restaurant and had a really wonderful traditional Russian meal with vodka! Price once again only £10 for the both of us. The funny thing is that the lonely planet said this restaurant was creepy but we found it great!

We were knackered even before we left as the hotel didn't have a lift and we had to manhandle our entire luggage down three flights of stairs. But that aside another day on the road - the M18 towards Lodemcje Pole. It was my (Lisa's) idea to cut across from the M18 to the A114 on the yellow road that links the two. Well, initially we went around and around Lodemcje Pole but couldn't find the road at all. The GPS kept on telling us that we were on it -then not on it - way off it - going the wrong way. …and so on! So eventually we asked in our shaky Russian and found that everything has changed due to a new infrastructure and we needed to keep on the M18 for a short while and then the smaller road would be obvious - and it was. This little road is 149 km long and started off fine. It was really nice to have some bends and turns, which was making riding fun. However, just as we were enjoying playing, the road suddenly stopped and turned into 85km of dust, sand, and rocks! I started very slowly, being a bit apprehensive of the 'road' surface and standing up on the pegs as my bike felt very different from the slim, light model I had done the BMW off road course on. As time went on I gained more confidence and picked up speed and with the bikes kicking up huge clouds of dust we took the track at speeds of 45 - 50 mph. It IS easier faster but it just takes a little while for your mind to accept this! With one small break on a bridge which still had some tarmac, we stood up on the pegs for the majority of the way - if we hadn't our control would have been less and our backsides black and blue as this small road was a logging route which had been corrugated by all the logging lorries.

At the very end of the road the road turns back to tarmac and finishes at a roundabout with a………wait for it………real MIG on it. We just had to stop and take pictures and I have to say my bike looks great next to a MIG. We also had quite a few tourists who also thought our bikes and the MIG looked great but took more interest in our bikes that the huge MIG! . We arrived in Tichvin a little later than we intended and our first feelings where those of concern. We both felt an underlying buzz of trouble in the town and were worried about even pausing at the side of the road. But we had to stop and just as we did two cars pulled up - one in front and one behind - uh oh! We need not have been worried as both men got out of their cars and said we should be careful and not stay on the roads, as it wasn't safe.

After we were told that our luggage wouldn't be safe nor our bikes in the hotel, Sergio, one of the men said he would take us to a car compound where our bikes would be safe. We followed him through streets that looked like scenes from a war torn Beirut, where we were getting the kind of looks that were not welcome, eventually turning up at a compound surrounded with razor wire. We were told that this is where all the locals leave their vehicles, as anywhere else is just not safe! After being told we need to leave our bikes here Sergio and his wife said we were to stay with them! He had a friend who had to leave Russia due to 'problems' and her flat was empty. Actually we later found that it wasn't empty but just like someone was still living there - she really did leave in a hurry! Sergio put our entire luggage in his car and took us to the block of flats where he lived with his wife, son and daughter. As we entered the flats we were struck by their dilapidation. As we entered the unlit concrete corridors the overpowering smell of Urine caught in our throat. Do people live here we thought. Yes, Sergio's family live on the fifth floor and once past the 3 secure steel doors and the countless locks we were welcomed into their home, like long time friends. We couldn't help but be surprised by the pleasant decoration and soft carpet under our feet, a stark contrast to the outside. It's been said that you meet the best people when you need them most and this couldn't have been truer in the case of Sergio and his family. Their generosity, hospitality and trust in us (two smelly biker tourist from the UK) was quite literally overwhelming and very, very humbling. We were offered their hot water to wash (hot water was in very short supply) and then to their bathrobes, which we gratefully accepted. The rest of the evening and early morning was spent with the four of us around the table, laughing at our own attempts at conversational topics from politics to family, with us speaking no Russian and Sergio and Katrina speaking no English. Sergio insisted on going out for beer and point blank refused to accept any offers of money from us. His wife cut up meets and cheese and we ate, talked, drank and laughed into the wee hours of the following day.

Our day started early for a change with Sergio meeting us at 7:30 ready to take our luggage and us back to the compound. The goodbye was very difficult as we felt we owed Sergio and his family so much. Our Poorly spoken Russian frustrated the situation, as we were desperate to convey our true appreciation. Handshakes, kisses and hugs were going to have to suffice, but we think that Sergio knew how we felt. With a final wave we said goodbye and headed off, sad to leave behind our new friends. Maybe we'll meet again. We hope so but in reality probably not. We can only hope that life for them becomes easier in the future. Such wonderful people deserve so much more.

Our route was taking us to Vologda a major city, sitting in-between Moscow and St Petersburg. We arrived at 4:30. Our home for the next few days was the hotel Spasska. We initially booked two nights but ended up staying three, as after our first night we knew we were going to need a little more rest.

Vologda city offers sightseers a variety of churches and some very gory history for good measure. A quick walk into the centre last night had given us an idea to the days sightseeing. We arrived in the main square by St Sofia's Cathedral and bell tower to find hundreds of people leaving Sunday service from the three chapels that form the centre. Processions of richly dressed Russian Orthodox priests filed past us on the way to their next service on the other side of town. Bell chimes filled the air and we listened as intricate tunes were rung in well-practised fashion by hand. We wondered if this was a special event or whether this was simply every Sunday practice. We nervously took a few photos as we were unsure as to whether it was allowed or appropriate - especially as there were 20-30 armed police loitering about looking for something to do! This was our first big city since Murmansk and whilst Murmansk is a very heavy industrialised city, Vologda is much akin to Bristol.

After the throngs of worshippers had left the area we made our way into the town centre having decided to come back to the bell tower tomorrow in order to climb it - we were too knackered today and it was extremely muggy and hot. The day was getting hotter by the minute and we were both in need of food and water. 5 minutes stroll from the Archbishops courtyard we found ourselves in Vologda's main covered market. We found row upon row of vendors selling everything from fruit and veg and clothes to Russian handmade furniture. The market is busy and vibrant and a little while later we left having purchased lunch - two bottles of water and some really delicious cherries - all bought using Russian and we were understood!

Now window-shopping in Russia is an art in itself! As although Russia seems to be well down the Capitalist path, it has a lot to learn about PR and marketing. The outside of the vast majority of shops, large and small alike, are dull, disinteresting and give the shopper no clue whatsoever as to what's inside. But then again many of the premises are former soviet government buildings or accommodation, which have been adapted for commercialism. Having window-shopped for sometime we headed back to out hotel room to catch up on some well-needed sleep. This evening we ate at the hotel attracted by the wonderful smell of BBQ'd meat and easy flowing beer!

9:30 found us at the front of the hotel drinking far too much coffee than is good for us. The familiar hum of the BMW twin caught our attention as we turned to see a kitted-out BMW R1100RS pull up to the bar: Vladimir Tchaikovsky had arrived with all the panache of a world cup racer. As it turned out he was!! Before Vladimir's position with BMW as after sales manager for Russian and the Ukraine (so he's quite important J ) he was race manager for the Yamaha race team. A short while later found us weaving at speed in and out of the Moscow traffic trying to keep up with Vladimir, who, by his standards, was obviously taking it slowly! 20 mins later and we were at Autodom - one of the biggest BMW dealerships that either of us had ever been to. Before we knew it out bikes were unloaded our keys taken and our bikes whisked away. We were introduced to Alex, who runs Autodom, and the ever-smiling Marina, who's English was also very good. Autodom were absolutely fantastic. We spent the day talking to Alex whilst Marina interpreted and we got thoroughly spoilt and looked after - coffee, teas, fruit, lunch, all were supplied and they would not accept any money from us! At around 2:00 a problem had been discovered with the 650's sprocket and chain and Autodom had offered a warranty replacement. Unfortunately the bikes paper work was back in the hotel room. With the 1100 being prepped for service, Vladimir had offered to take me (Simon) as pillion back to the hotel to grab the paperwork, how could I resist. Bloody hell what a ride! This time Vladimir was not hanging about. Weaving in and out of Moscow traffic at 80 mph and at times using all the braking power the bike and ABS had to offer, we reached the hotel in record time and were soon off again back to Autodom. The ride back was even faster. Terrifying or fun, I'm not quite sure. Although things certainly got interesting as Vladimir was ordered to stop by the Moscow police and immediately accelerated away from them, knowing full well that they were not going to catch him! "Shit" I thought, they've got guns if they shoot they're going to hit the daft-looking pillion hanging on for dear life. Luckily they didn't and we arrived back at Autodom safely if not a little shaken.

At 7:30 the 650GS was now finished and ready to roll and the 1100 was now on the ramp - during the summer Autodom service department runs 24 hours a day in order to meet both the work load and the incredibly high expectations of its VIP clients who range from high-flying business men to the current reigning political party members. To our amazement not only was the 1100 being worked on it was now showroom immaculate having been cleaned within an inch of its life by Autodom as part of their service. Some time earlier we had been invited by Vladimir to spend the evening with him and his friends at a local restaurant. We were now feeling a little awkward as it was fast approaching 10 o'clock and the 1100 was still being worked on and Vladimir refused to leave us. By 10:20 all was complete and the bill paid. The 650 had had a major service and the front and rear sprocket and chain were replaced under warranty. The 1100 had had new spark plugs, new rear brakes and new oil filter and a new back tyre (Metzler Karoo). Autodom had also given us a large discount for which we owe them another very large thank you. With the bill paid we were off and after a quick shower met up with Vladimir, his wife and friends. We had arrived too late to eat but after a couple of beers it was decided we would all go back to our hotel and one of the many restaurants, which we were informed was Mafia run! We were ushered to a private room and the curtains were drawn and the conversation quickly turned to travel, politics the strange humour of the English and also to football! Where it was decided that as neither of us knew anything about football, we couldn't possibly be English. Adrian, one of Vladimir's friends, took great delight in extolling the playing prowess of Chelsea - perplexed with his fascination with Chelsea we asked why not follow Manchester United? We were told quite categorically that Chelsea had recently been bought by a wealthy Russian businessman and therefore been adopted by Russians as 'their team'! Several Vodkas later and conversation was …….er……nope can't remember too many vodkas - time to go to bed!

Sightseeing day - Having been frustrated at our earlier attempts to get into the Kremlin, today we were on a mission. As we walked through the gardens that skirt the exterior of the Kremlin we were approached by a guide, who asked if we needed her services. We quickly agreed a price of $35 and off we went. As it turned out this was money well spent? Our guide had been working as a guide for 20 years and was known by all the Kremlin staff. We were happily waived to the front of the already large queue, where an inspection guard who was on instruction to be extra vigilant following the recent Chechen bombings halted our progress. After searching us thoroughly he decided he definitely did not like the look of the camera mini tripod, but after a demonstration and explanation from our guide he begrudgingly let us through. We headed for the diamond fund, one of the Worlds largest collections of diamonds and precious stones. Once inside the large dark room having passed several more security checks, the site that awaits you, simply leaves you dumb struck. The walls of the room are made of case after case of glass made display cabinets, each one full to overflow with sparkling jewels of every description and each case seemingly more fantastical than the last. Aladdin's cave can't have been more magical. The collection is incredible.

Of every type of stone, there are examples of cut and uncut. Diamonds of every colour, sapphires, Ruby's as big as your fist, Emeralds so huge! There was one black diamond that put all the others into insignificance. Alongside them were examples of the rocks that they are extracted from - these were also huge and really just great big lumps of the precious stones. We'd never seen anything like it.

Other cabinets displayed handfuls of diamonds all showing different 'grades' and then all sizes in grades of carats. Our guide knew them all and also the special names that had been given to some of the largest and most perfect diamonds - some had been named after the first Russian astronauts , others after heroes of the USSR. Our guide (we wish we could remember her name but we do remember that it was difficult for us to pronounce!) then took us to the cabinets in the centre of the room that displayed all shapes and sizes of gold and platinum nuggets - many were known by the shape of the animals they looked like - one was 'the camel' another 'the bear'. Alongside these were great lumps of the rock that these nuggets are extracted. It really is just too difficult to try to explain the feeling you get looking at all of these precious stones and nuggets other than to say it is all to overwhelming.

If this wasn't enough we then went into the 'historical' room.- the previous room had, compared to the jewels and stones in this room, been nothing! There were four large display cabinets, each one stuffed full. This room contained hundreds of pieces of the most exquisitely crafted jewellery. Each one with its own unique history and fairytale like story. Pieces owned by conquering warlords, kings, queens, Tsars and of course beautiful princesses. There was a massive ruby shaped like a strawberry that had made its way into the family of the Russian Tsars but had originally been owned by Cleopatra! The centrepiece of this display however, was the State jewels, including coronation crowns and sceptres so big that the weight must have been unbearable. After finally being able to pick our jaws up off the floor we made our way outside still feeling overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of what we'd been privileged to see. The rest of the afternoon passed all too quickly as we toured the private churches of the Kremlin. Intricately decorated walls and gold lined ceilings decorated every room and so did a variety of stone coffins. These coffins were members of the Royal family a long way prior to the revolution, dating from around 1235 to about 1675 It was just all too much to absorb and with the constant information being given to us by our guide we left the Kremlin with a sense of amazement and awe! WOW- we had just been into the very heart of the former Soviet Union!Unable to face any more sightseeing we left the Kremlin after saying goodbye to our guide and staggered the few hundred meters to our hotel. That night after an extremely expensive Chinese meal (the prices were very confusing in both Roubles and Euro for different weights and portions!) we went back into Red Square only to find that it was now no longer possible to walk across or even get that close to. The Chechen suicide bombers had the whole of Moscow on alert - we had (for once) timed it right having been able to wander freely only just the night before.

Bleary eyed, we rolled out of b ed early as we were meeting Vladimir at MacDonald's and following him with Dennis to see the 'Ohlins man' -A 45 minute ride out of Moscow we arrived at what looked like a run down block of flats but which turned out to be the ex-headquarters of the former Soviet motocross and speedway teams. Dozens of hard won trophies still line the corridor, simply left to gather dust. The 'Ohlins guy' turned out to be Yuri, the former head technical engineer for the motor-cross team. We couldn't have asked for a better man to be looking at the rear shock. Within 40 minutes the problem had been diagnosed and solved with a donation of a Ohlins pre-load unit from Vladimir. Relieved, we happily accepted the repaired shock back and then made our way back to Autodom. On route we stopped off at the bike market to pick up a set of fork gaiters for the F650GS, whose previous gaiters had by now been shredded. This was all on a Sunday and Vladimir and Denis were doing all of this for us on their day off!We were finally ready; gaiters fitted, rear shock fixed and St Petersburg waiting for us. We had received the kind of welcome and enjoyed a level of hospitality and help that we could have only have dreamt about. To Alex (Manager of Autodom), Vladimir (BMW Russia), Dennis (After Sales Manager Autodom) and Marina (Autodom), we owe you a very, very large thank you. You made our stay in Moscow all the more memorable. Alex maybe we'll see you in South-Africa in February 2004, who knows!At 5pm we made our start to St Petersburg (formally Leningrad). Little did we realise it was going to be a marathon ride. We started in torrential rain, riding in Moscow rush hour. We had travelled 4 miles in about an hour. Finally we reached the bottleneck. The 3 lane carriageway we were on was completely flooded on the outskirts of the city. The water must have been 8-12 inches deep in places as we made our way through, praying not to have to stop. The rain finally subsided and after a brief stop at Mcdonalds (bloody hell that's twice in one day) for coffee we began again. We had been determined to leave Moscow on the 13th and with hindsight should really have left it another day. The road to St Petersburg is long (roughly 800k), it is also the main lorry route, so contrary to what the 'Lonely Planet' guide book says about the road quality being good, sorry, but 'BOLLOCKS', is it!!! The road is potted but worse it is also very badly ridged. Deep troughs, which go on for mile after mile have been pushed into the roads by the continuous onslaught of overloaded lorries. Cars have a better time of it, but on bikes it's bloody horrible as you find the front and back of the bike continuously fighting to go indifferent directions, being pulled by the deep ridges in the road. Concentration has to be 110% just to keep the machines upright. Night was drawing in and we needed to make a decision to either keep going or stop for the night. So far none of the small towns we had passed through had looked particularly secure. We decided to keep going. At dusk the rain started again. 2 hours further on and things were getting frightening. Lorry drivers frustrated by our speed (50-60 mph) were overtaking us in silly places. It was now pitch black and the road was getting worse with the bikes weaving about underneath us. Mile after mile passed very slowly. We were getting overly tired and concentration was becoming a problem. At around 2:30am we pulled into a garage, parked up and hauled ourselves off the bikes and slumped pathetically on the kerb. Still in our kit that was black with dirt and sopping wet, we rested back against the forecourt office. Within minutes we were both asleep. Not one of our more glamorous moments! 30 minutes later, feeling slightly refreshed we were off again. At around 4:30am the rain stopped as dawn broke and at 6pm we stopped again desperate to close our eyes. This time we simply pulled off the road, put down the side stands and fell asleep on the bikes. When you're this tired your tank bag becomes welcoming pillow. We couldn't decide if falling asleep on the bikes took us one step closer to 'rufty tufty' bikers or just plain desperate. Our egos prefer the thought of the first. By 7am we were back on the road and at 9:00 we were approaching the centre of St Petersburg.

The first hotel we approached said they were full, but being the largest with a few thousand double rooms we thought they didn't like the way we looked. I'm not surprised though because we didn't like the way we looked! Sweaty, grimy with filthy clothes, boots and hair with a 5'oclock shadow (and that's just Lisa!)…not a pretty sight! We were told however that their sister hotel across the road had some space and so off we went to battle through the morning rush hour traffic - we never seem to time it quite right when we arrive in cities! Our Lonely Planet book once again said that this hotel was at the cheaper end of the travellers budget - me thinks they need to update! Being tired, hot etc…we decided that despite the price, which was well over budget, we couldn't face getting back on the bikes in order to hunt for another and cheaper abode. The bikes also had secure parking with three armed guards (!) at an additional cost of $10 per 24-hour period per bike - apparently not a bad price in St Petersburg as secure parking is few and far between. Our hotel was situated on Nevsky Prospekt, which is one of the main streets running the length of St Petersburg's centre (the Soviets tried re-naming this street 25th October Avenue in honour of the revolution - the name never stuck - I wonder why?). Nevsky Prospekt is Russia's most famous street running 4km from the Admiralty to the Alexander Nevsky Lavra (monastery) from which it takes its name. The inner 2.5 km to Moscow station is St Petersburg's seething main avenue, the city's shopping centre and focus of its entertainment and street life. Pushing through its crowds is an experience in itself. After long showers and lots of sleep we ventured out onto Nevsky Prospekt and found St Petersburg to be very cosmopolitan with plenty of cafés and bars. Parts even look like Venice as large waterways run through the City. We'll have a better look tomorrow.