The flight on the older jetliner was uneventful. I leave behind a good friend and wonder what lies ahead. Arrival to the airport north of Magadan reminds me of what modern day Beirut looks like from the images on TV. Decay and destruction from lack of maintenance and neglect, more than likely due to lack of funds and care. Parts of machines, trucks, and helicopters sit stripped of parts, buildings empty and void of windows. From the jet we spill out onto the runway and board awaiting trailers, which look like buses without engines or drivers. Packed tight the trailers jerk as a plane tractor pulls us slowly along for a tour of the mangled machinery and empty building and guard tower enroute to the terminal. The phone I got in Vladivostok (RUS MTS) has a negative balance, so no way to make calls home. Inside the terminal I buy a prepaid card to use in the coinless pay phones to call Maxim (my friend in Vladivostok) and let him know I made it safely, his slurred speech indicating he had enjoyed a few more beers. A man hanging around in the lobby wearing jeans, Hawaiian shirt eyes me, 700 rubles (about $26) to Magadan. (Most men wear jeans and black shirts with jean jackets, black polished shoes exaggeratedly pointed with squared off ends.) I was hoping to find an English speaking taxi driver to learn about the city and guesthouse/hotels, but am happy to get a ride into town. Into his Toyota 4runner, I ask about him being a taxi driver, he shows me a photocopy of a checker board (good enough). During the ride South I see a forest fire off in the distance, no one seems to care. The landscape consist of lime green spruce, only a few feet high, there are no large trees anywhere. The driver surprisingly slows way down to a snail pace 30kph (the posted speed limit), a police speed trap ahead. Once past it's normal speeds again (I'll have to remember this one). As we crest the hill for the decent into the city ahead, I'm greeted by images of massive long gray cement buildings littered about, the city engulfed by ocean chilled clouds. We arrive to a hotel away from the city center, it's filled. To another one near the center, the taxi chats with the attendant and I'm told 1,500Rubles ($60). The taxi driver quickly leaves, as I try to come to grips with the cold city and ugly hotel. The woman behind the counter has a child who is severely cross-eyed. With visions of industrial pollution run off contaminating the water supply, I begin to feel a bit uncomfortable (up the hill, twin smoke stacks bellow blackened gases from some square unknown factory). Up three flights of stairs in what looks like a boarding house. I'm led to a room on the end with three rooms, two bathrooms and a kitchen, which is much larger than I need. Through thick dust and worn furniture, the rooms are decayed and old. Thick white lead paint peals from the sealed tight windows, and no fresh air. I go back down stairs and request to see the room rate in print (as the amount I'm charged is much more than it should be). "Ne panni-my" ("don't understand"), so back up stairs. In the hallway, the stench of vomit or raw fish is thick as it emanates from buckets lining the hallway outside the room doors. I decide to rebel, and tell the hotel clerk (if this is really even a hotel) that I'd rather sleep outside with fresh air than stay there. I speak barely a word of Russian and she not a word of English, but I make due with a couple of translating books I brought from the US. She hands me the phone and a woman who speaks good English ask me if I'd rather stay in her hotel. It will be 3,200 Rubles ($120). "Is that acceptable?"...I reluctantly agree and the woman refunds me the 1,500r while a taxi is called. Taxis in Russia don't look like taxis. Most are small Japanese cars with well-worn suspension, in their original paint color, and only a a few antenna's from the trunk gives an indication which car is a taxi. I sense some under-the-table referral fees being passed around, so decide to skirt the whole mess and tell the taxi driver to go to Hotel Magadan instead (had info from Kevin who was no longer riding with me since Vladivostok). I arrive to a building you'd never expect to be a hotel. Two solid white plastic doors camouflages it's presence. What once was an elegant hotel more than 10 years ago (so I was later told by an older Englishman and friends who were in Magadan for bird watching), has turned into a building renting office space. Only the 5th floor, and part of the forth remain a hotel. Through the doors and take the elevator to the 5th floor (elevator only goes from the basement and first to the fifth). Up stairs in the makeshift lobby, I request to see the room first. It's 1,100 rubles (about $42). The room, though old, is clean and the windows open. It's acceptable and much better than the last place. Next is to find an MTC (mobile phone company) office and get my phone to work.
From the warmth of Vladivostok, the sunny city on the coast, to an empty gray place of solitude and loneliness, chilled wind force clouds over this city on the coast. Stalin sent millions here, many intellects and religious people, anyone who he felt may become a threat. Ship after ship from Vladivostok arrived, some died on the way, those who survived died further inland as they were forced to mine for gold and other metals and stones or to build the road during the harsh winters. On the hill outside the city is a modern monument to those who perished named "The Mask of Sorrow", I will visit this when I finally escape this city upon my lime green freedom machine. The following pictures were taken over the course of the week.
Standing near monumentA monument to either those who sacrificed in WWII, or those who perished in the Gulag system.
harborIn the harbor, a capsized boat remains.
buildingSoviet emblems still adorn run down building with what was suppose to be illustrious past.
4 menA top the old theater, four statues to the early frontier men who came to discover Magadan Oblist riches.
Fighter jets attack!Mig fighters in the sky, a neglected children's park.
jet take offFormer Soviet aircraft now neglected on display. Where the jet engine was once now contains broken vodka bottles and crushed plastic beer bottles.
play Army!More to see.
gold top churchThe new Orthodox Russian church under construction since 2001. It's located in the former Lenin Square.
city1city2city3museumMagadan main historical museum, worth a visit.
Russian Ford falcon?Magadan city
LeninLenin gazing with empty eyes at a bare hillside outside the city...Skies have cleared over the last few days.
church, another viewChurch again
buildingsMagadan Airlines building (across the main street from the children/soviet military park) and bus station. Nearby is Hotel Magadan and the new church.
city4City view
gold nuggetGold nugget from Magadan region. Nuggets must be sold as jewelry and attached to something. Each nugget has a certificate describing where it came from and when it was dug up.
city6Buildings
After a few days, things begin to brighten. I spend my initial days walking around the city a lone stranger, police eyeing me up and down as I walk street with my back pack (an oddity, I see no else carry one). I dare not make eye contact just continue on and stare straight ahead. Going into Magazines (Russian word for store) buying yogurt, bread or anything that looked good. Things change though..I then begin to meet people. In the Museum I met a woman who spoke excellent English, she works at the university and offered to help me out if needed. At the hotel I was introduced to a woman who owns the cafe in the hotel (You'd never know it was a cafe, a solid door into a windowless room (viewed from the hallway), who helped out with some questions. The more people I meet, the more inviting the city became. Some guys who worked on a fishing boat came into the hotel. Once they learned I was an American they insisted on me having a drink of Vodka with them. They aren't the first to insist, usually I give three no's, then I give in to be polite. The trick is to drink one, with a toast, then no more or tiny amount later on if they insist. The custom is to empty the glass in one gulp. The glasses are much larger than shot glasses, more like 6-8oz size. Make the toast, take a deep breath, bottoms up, then before breathing in the toxic fumes, eat a slice of tomato or cucumber with salt to clear the throat. They watch you to make sure you drink it all, and then they insist on another. I'm not advocating nor bragging about drinking, simply relaying my experience and Russian customs. Drinking Vodka is still an important part of Russian life and many important high dollar contracts have been agreed upon over a bottle (so I'm told). I'd rather remain sober and keep my wits.
bike lowered from ship by craneFinally, the bike arrives on a Friday, I've been here for 8 days. Save for some surface rust from the ocean voyage, the bike is in good shape. I was allowed on the ship and saw cars and cargo containers being unloaded by massive cranes rolling upon railroad tracks.
unloading cars and containersshipCapt Krems is the name given to the ship. The lady shown near my bike spoke some English and assisted me with the paper work.
Another church view...With carsView of the church from Hotel Magadan
Saturday, I changed the tires outside the hotel lobby to knobbies, and went over the bike for the road ahead. While outside two boys, maybe 10-12 years old, showed interest in my bike, yet the hotel security guard seemed rather rude to them. This is when I noticed something unsettling. The boys would put their left hand to their mouth with a hissing sound. Inside their long sleeve shirt where cans of butane lighter fluid, and they were inhaling the fumes to stay high. I asked where were their parents. The security guard told me they have none, they were homeless. Later, an old woman asked for a little money. Not one to give money to those who use it to buy alcohol, I invited her into a nearby mini store and told her to pick out some food that I'd buy. She picked out a small cucumber. I said "please more". She then reluctantly picked out another. I said "No, something more please." Then she chose a link of sausages. I gladly paid the few dollars, and she was very grateful. Me?, I was embarrassed that I didn't do more. This is Russia, many are barely getting by yet Russians cope.
Monday, July 31st 8339 miles on the odometer
IIt's noon as I finish filling the bike with fuel. A mixture of conflicting emotions whirl inside my helmet as I twist the throttle exiting the city en route to the Mask of Sorrow. Excitement and joy to be on my way, a bit of trepidation to what lies ahead on the Road of Bones. I've met a lot of interesting people and learned a lot about their views of Magadan and of Russia, as well as made some new friends. I’m sadden to think I may never see any of them again. I think a tear from the Mask of Sorrow should be reserved for those who suffer in the present, the poor, old and the homeless. I hope someday I'll be able to return to the chilled gray city of cement at the very end of Russia...The very end of the earth.
bike in front of monumentI ride the bike around the side for a unique picture of the Mask of Sorrow. Up the stairs a locked metal door apparently conceals a replica of a gulag prison cell. On the other side of the monument, a bronze child on her knees, face in hands sit crying. The faces of the monument represent those who perished. The number of lives destroyed is incomprehensible.
gray cityOne last look at the city from the Mask of Sorrow. I don't look back as I climb upon my bike for the ride north, Atka awaits and it's already noon.
![Russian [self] service station.](http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g196/worldadventuretour/IMG_0891.jpg){kind=link}
