Into Russia with a bang!

I was quite nervous about my first real land border crossing in months. Sure, I had my Russian visa and sure everything was in order, but after such a long wait to get here, I was anxious. Surprisingly, getting out of Europe was more complicated than expected. Luckily, I had done some online research and found that there is a whole process for leaving Estonia and entering Russia which requires an online placement in a queue. When times are busy, you have to book many days in advance. Lucky for me the timeslot I was hoping for was open and so it was I found myself in a strange parking lot looking at an electronic screen waiting for my registration plate to appear, so I could then be signed off to actually ride the 2kms to the border. Once there I was scrutinised closely by the Estonian border guards. Firstly, they weren’t convinced Russia would let me in with the vehicle registration papers I had. Once again (like everywhere else) I assured them my papers were legit. I’m pretty sure they even tried to do an online search of Queensland Transport to check the currency of my registration and driver’s licence. Can they even do that? Interestingly, one guy even had the the magnifying monocle to inspect the holograms (or similar) on my driver’s licence. I was amazed at the efforts they put in to actually allow someone to leave! Once they were happy and I was processed, it was time to take a seat on the pavement and wait. Apparently there was a hold up ahead on the Russian side and people were waiting in their vehicles on the bridge, so I appreciated being able to wait in the shade. I chatted briefly with the guards and like everywhere, they are quite friendly, once they are satisfied everything is in order.

I then rode onto the bridge where another lengthy wait was in store. A Russian women was most excited to talk to me and I did my best with my pathetic Russian but enjoyed the chance to finally test it out. Once on the Russian side, everything was easy. That’s right: easy! I merely had to switch the customs form for one in English and they were really helpful in having me fill it out. Before long I was blasting off on my way to St Petersburg! I couldn’t believe it. I was in Russia!

10 minutes along the way I realised I didn’t have my green card (third party) insurance so I quickly u-turned and headed back to the border town. But this time, my luck had run dry. Not a single insurance outlet offered insurance for foreign vehicles. It was all for Russian vehicles going to Europe. I found this to be most unusual but was assured I could get what I needed in St Petersburg. I was off again bursting with joy at the thought of a month in Russian. About an hour later things would change for the worst.

As I motored through what was not much more than a couple of shacks on the side of the highway and a side road turn off, I saw ahead of me a shuttle van waiting to turn across my path to the roadside cafe. That was until it stopped waiting. With what seemed like less than 30 metres separating us, it started turning and I immediately had the terrifying thought that I was screwed. This was going to be something very serious or worse. As I locked up the brakes and slid toward the van, it stopped and I think I somehow managed to veer slightly to my right collecting its front left headlights and fender with an almighty bang. Suddenly, I found myself careening toward a truck parked on the side of the road and I remember clearly thinking that I did not want to be smashing into the back of it. Instead, I somehow zeroed in on it at a 45 degree angle to its side and before a single thought could be processed I smashed heavily into it side-on and was brutally bounced off the other side of my bike. Everything seemed to happen in an instant. There I was lying on my back, winded and broken and definitely thinking the worse. I managed to roll onto my hands and knees and go through the agonising wait until my airways could clear and I would be breathing again. As people rushed around me, I held my hand up to say I was ok and to give me a minute.

My back was utterly aching and a thousand thoughts rushed through my head, the dominant one being that “it”, this whole odyssey, was all over. The driver of the van had come to help and I pointed for him and some others to pick my bike up because I could see fuel coming out the breather hose. I could see from the look on his face he knew of his guilt, but he was equally tying to accuse me of speeding. I shook my head and then asked that we get my bike and luggage (that was now strewn around the ground) further off the road. The van driver wanted me to check that my bike would start and amazingly it did. He also asked if I wanted Police and I said no, thinking that whatever needed resolving could be done later and the last thing I wanted were Police who couldn’t speak English listen to a Russian shuttle van driver (who also couldn’t speak English) try to shift the blame onto me. Not only that, but having failed to secure my insurance, I figured it was a win win for the driver and I to part as equals. And that he did.

Throughout it all onlookers came and went, but one kind man with a smattering of English stayed to make sure I was ok. I asked him to ask one of the many van drivers going St Petersburg if he would take my luggage, but no one was interested. It was then that we attempted to re-rig my luggage and to my surprise it was able to be done. The kind gent also let me use his phone so I could ring the accommodation and advise of my later arrival time. I was probably still in shock, but well and truly into problem solving mode and the one solution seemed to be to get on my bike and keep riding. My breathing felt restricted and I can only assume it was the contraction of muscles from the impact (something I had experienced many years ago from a broken AC playing rugby). I looked over the bike, probably too quickly in hindsight, and with a heartfelt thank you and farewell to my very own Good Samaritan I was on my way again.

It was still at least 90 minutes to St Petersburg and the day had just grown another hour longer. As thoughts kept coming and going, I tried to comprehend everything that had happened and knew I had dodged a bullet. It is without doubt the scariest thing that has happened to me on a motorcycle and I knew I was blessed to be able to literally walk away from it. The bike had suffered some minor damage and the umpteenth set of indicators were destroyed. But overall, the fact the the bike, my luggage and I were all going to St Petersburg together was nothing short of a minor miracle. As I approached St Petersburg I was extremely nervous. Gun shy you might say. After all, today was to be my first encounter with Russian drivers and it was already clearly evident they were crazy. Entering St Petersburg only confirmed this. Soon enough, I was safely at the AirBnB and I couldn’t have asked for a better host. Taddeo (originally from Switzerland) and his wife were most concerned about my state and helped me with luggage, bought me some “comfort” snacks and beers, provided me with information on a clinic I could visit the next day and also bought me some pain killing back rub. It was above and beyond and the best possible welcome one could hope for. Furthermore, in the next couple of hours I would welcome my long time Irish mate Trevor from London, who’d prearranged a four day weekend meetup with me in St Pete’s. If there’s ever a time I wanted to see a familiar friendly face, then that was it.

Trevor’s arrival of course, was nothing short of hilarious (sorry mate). With all the excitement and anticipation of St Petersburg he had proceeded to get not so mildly ripped off by the cab driver from the airport and I couldn’t help but think back to that time he, my brother Paul and I got screwed out of $7 by a homeless guy in San Francisco 17 years ago. It was an incredibly elaborate ruse that had us hook, line and sinker and I can’t help but admire the guy who crafted his profession so well… all for $7. But that’s a story for another day. Despite our worldly experience, we’re still too trusting for our own good.

Trevor was more than concerned about my injury. I actually felt bad because every wince, groan and gasp I made elicited an equal or more concerning expression on Trevor’s face. And so with midnight upon us and a couple of Taddeo’s beers taken care of, we agreed a good night’s sleep was the best option and tomorrow we would begin conquering this wonderful city.

The next day I awoke in similar pain (after very broken sleep of course). Fortunately, it was mostly associated with what I call “transitioning”. Sitting up, rolling over, turning, twisting, sneezing, coughing and laughing. I blame Trevor for making me laugh a lot, but that’s a sort of zero sum game outcome. At least you are being entertained as you suffer. The worst is sneezing. It would be weeks before I could enjoy the satisfaction of a decent sneeze. But for now, they were terrifying and I dreaded them. At least when I sat straight or lay down, things became bearable, but eventually the need to move reintroduced the pain. We ventured out into St Petersburg and were impressed by its grandeur. Nevsky Avenue is a magnificent stretch of road and the buildings and canals that complement it only enhance its very grandeur. The weather was favourable and we made our way toward the clinic Taddeo had recommended. What was to come was both unexpected and unprecedented! The clinic promptly gathered my information and identification, gave me a file and a room number to wait outside of and within minutes I was in seeing a physician who, after some physical examinations of my back,neck and legs had me sent in to the next room to get an x-ray… which was done immediately! I then promptly returned to his room, whilst he and the radiologist inspected my x-rays. He returned barely minutes after and informed me there was no spine or bone damage. He then promptly wrote out a prescription and before I knew it I was down the corridor to the Chemist’s window where I was supplied with my approved items before returning to the main counter to pay… the grand total of less than AU$100 for my consultation, x-ray and painkillers all in the space of 30 minutes. Unbelievable. I couldn’t get over how efficient everything was. And affordable (even taking into consideration differing exchange and wage rates – bearing in mind I paid over the counter without any sort of financial assistance). Trevor was gobsmacked too (not just by the nurses). That entire process probably couldn’t even be done in a day in Australia. Maybe in an emergency ward, but I’m not convinced you’d get much change from a full day. Not an emergency? Forget it. My first (and hopefully last) experience with the Russian medical system was an amazing one. I was also incredibly relieved to have not done any serious damage to myself. As I suspected, it was all muscular running down the right hand side of my spine. There was no doubt it was one hell of a knock, but it hadn’t broken or dislodged anything and I could have kissed the ground as I thanked God yet again for keeping me safe. Trevor and I could look forward to some fun in St Petersburg even if it did involve some pain along the way. Who knows, maybe I’d even get some sympathy from some Russian girls.