Stefan - Ladoga (RUSSIA)

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

The convoys stop on the streets around the main start. As per the locals' standards, these streets are pretty narrow. For me, they seem larger than our main boulevards. There is no traffic around us, as the police is blocking the way for everybody who is not part of the show. Most of the machines are simple jeeps, pickup trucks and RV's, but every once in a while really nice machines can be seen:




For some weird reason, the Isakiev church doesn't look anything like a church to me. Huge, depressing building.



I decide not to take a single picture of it. Same for Peterburg by night. I'm sure there's a gazillion of nice pictures of these places anyway. To make something different, one would need to be a real artist, or have a tilt lens, or probably both. Beauty is confusing. And I'm not an artist.

Little by little the large square fills with offroad vehicles, which will be in the eternal swampy forest by tonight. I don't believe such a quantity of prepared vehicles can be gathered together at any other place in the world.











A Dutch Daihatsu Rocky shyly stops next to ours. It's all shiny and nice. All perfect. Tough luck - it doesn't have no military UAZ axles with 36" Simex'es on them. And its crew still believes in the virtues of Civilisation. Monumental error maybe ?



People gather around, take pictures, smile compassionately. Nice little crowd. Some of them check how many and how strong tow hooks the thing has, already wondering how it will be towed after it hopelessly digs itself in the mud. A little alarm bell starts ringing in my head - this is it, this pack of wolves is the pack of real skippers.

The UAZ factory has apparently invested some cash in advertisement of the UAZ Patriot. Dimka Samoprygov's tuning company, База Боевых Самопрыгов, managed to build a shiny pickup out of the impossible to define vehicle which the Patriot originally is.





During the last night, at the last camp, at the official gathering, the pilot will officially ask for the microphone, and will publicly announce that there will be no "next time" for the Patriot, and that he won't touch the thing even not for running in the "Tourism" category.

There are no motorcycles. ATV's are 4x4 only, and it's mandatory that they ride in teams of two machines.



All of them have forests of snorkels.



The smart ones also have UAZ parts on them.



Speeches come from the tribune. At noon, the cannon on the Kronstadt fortress shoots once, the sky fills with balloons, and the first team starts. The line is long, starting is according to the race numbers. I climb on my seat.



And Sasha the Skipper merges with the convoy





The inside of my head is a mess. I think about the people who invited me, who helped me without even knowing me. I think about how sometimes dreams come true. The crowd is cheering, the sun is hitting hard, and although everything seems like a dream, we make it through the start. The impossible happened. We're in. We made it to the Ladoga 2008.

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

From the start, everybody gathers to the where the protected cruiser Avrora is stationed. From there, the police will escort us, all sirens out, to the Murmansk road. We follow the pack, pass the battleship and eat ice cream. The funny thing is - nobody seems to want to talk or even think about the role of the ship in 1917. They all think of it as the ship who made it through the battle of Tsushima.

Meanwhile, Rocky gets jealous. Or who knows - I've never been a Rocky, so I can't say for sure, but as far as I'm concerned - it just doesn't like seeing us paying so much attention to a battleship.

We'll never know for sure. In any event - the whole bunch of computers, chargers, radios and so forth, doesn't go well with the battery's broken terminals and Rocky's bad mood. The whole thing starts smoking and making nice gurgling sounds. No panic, fire is still at least a minute away, so all we have to do is to trash the puddle of molten lead which was still a battery a few minutes ago, bypass the right cables so we can start the engine away, and off we go.

On the road we load connectors, grease, bearings, some shady ritual fluids, get spooked by a sign stating "Murmansk - 1500km", and then leave all world vanities behind us.

The road is just as our roads, one lane in each direction. The only difference is - there are almost no curves. No more villages, too. The forest is made of thin, very tall pines. At places it looks like there was a fire, at others - like there's a disease on the trees. But there was no forest fire, and no disease - it's just that the swamp is everywhere. At most places, the road goes right on top of it.











It feels like early evening



The thing is - it's actually past 11pm...

Right before the camp, at around 130km before the assembly point, we barely miss crashing our Gaselle under the trailer truck in front of us. No brakes. By the books, the situation is hopeless. Good thing we never read those books and keep going. Sasha does the right thing and goes on the side of the road in the cleanest way possible, and, because of the potholes - floors the pedal to the metal. The convoy doesn't even realize what was about to happen - "oh, some guy is having fun on the side of the road ? Isn't it too early ?"

We assess the situation. Nothing is overheated, we're leaking no fluids. It's just that the front left wheel has like what, 3 inches of play ? I hate disk brakes already. There's nothing we can do. We keep going, trying not to forget that we have no brakes. Just in case, we buy brake pads and fluid at the last gas station and keep on.



Fifteen more kilometers of paved road, and then it's time to enter the already dark forest.



Actually, this is as dark as it gets. It's actually even clearer, but I'm a bad photographer The camp awaits us.



Bad news, with all the time lost with our brakes problem, we didn't make it in time for the start of the night navigation race. We're all pissed. Of course, nobody shows it.

[Венцислав Петров]

До: Ладога 2008

Stefan's participation to Ladoga 2008 and this article wouldn't have been possible without:



OFFRoad-Bulgaria.com
OFFROAD BG Magazine

General sponsor: T.T + Т.Т. Младши


Тони Илиев
Spas55
rumbata
Иван Алексиев
Станко Вълчанов
Pursie
Александър Василев Димитров
Евгении Кукурешков
vladi333
iiiopo
Павлена Николова
Tramp
Веско
sabin
МИШО/ELEKTRIK
zzlatev
Yaro
peppy
Ivich
BatGeorgeone
Явор(dorzi)

The pictures were made with dust and water proof gear from Olympus, some of it provided by the official importer of Olympus Cameras for Bulgaria

Thanks to all the others which we might have missed here

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

As per the race rules, making an open fire on the soil is not permitted. Everybody has small gaz burners, just in case. In the camp, they use braziers.




Dismountable tin boxes with long legs. And the venerated skews for shashliks. They are so venerated, that skewing shashliks seems actually to be a whole separate discipline in Russian off road. They make them in unthinkable quantities, following hundreds of different recipes, and, at my big surprise, all this meat really gets eaten.
As for the "civil" food, there are gaz hotplates and electrical teapots.



Our friends the rescuers gave as a 14m tall long distance communications antenna, and we hang at the "professional" 146Mhz, and not at the "workers & peasant's" 24Mhz of the CB. Equipment is of better quality, and despite the shitty frequency, communications are good. Phil gives us all hand held talkie walkies, numerated, plus spare battery sets. The are set to 1 Watt on one channel, and to 5 Watts on the other channel. At the same frequency. There's always something new to learn from real professionals.





The net is a good protection not only against mosquitoes, but a little bit against wind as well. This is where happens the thinking, the tea drinking (as a higher form of collective thinking), and the coffee pumping. Sometimes, this is where people eat, when there's time left. The little round boxes are mosquito repellent candles. They really work. Not everyone has a hat with a net, so, by solidarity, I don't use the one Vesko Goranov gave me. It's either too cold, or too windy, so it's a bit difficult for flies and mosquitoes to really bother us. They'll come in a couple of weeks, when we will no longer be here. There are few mosquitoes anyway. Nothing to write home about, nothing large or numerous enough to bite your leg off, or give you an allergic shock, or even make the air gray. And they don't even taste good. So if you stay calm and don't scratch like a pimply faced youth, you don't even hurt yourself. As for my anti (or pro) mosquito cream - it doesn't work. Maybe it's made for tempered climate mosquitoes only



Helicopter put some клюква (klyukva) in this can last year. Little Nordic fruits with a funny taste. Well - they just don't taste good. And some idiot managed to pour pure alcohol on top of it...



We're ashamed of it, but well - we drink this fixture all the time.

Everybody will agree that Kamaz is a highly respected brand of dump trucks.





But that precise one has a "Мусор" (trash) sign on it
Well, I guess it's only because burying or burning the trash is not permitted. It all has to go in the dump truck. No exceptions.

During the night, in the middle of the camp, all the important messages are pinned - results, starting orders...



The whole camp is no larger than our own city of Pernik (Note: like what, 10 square miles ), but not everybody has the strength left, a vehicle in good enough condition, or enough time, to actually make it to the camp. But everybody knows everybody, and gossip spreads real fast.













There are rich racers as well. With rented RV's, with room service and all the rumble and mumble.













And we keep driving like this for twenty more minutes
Well, not very fast, it's true. We don't want to pull some dust.

Waking up in the morning is real easy: Galka steps in the center of our camp, and informs crew number 710 in a drill sergeant's voice that there is this and this amount of time till the start of the stage, and that it's about our racer's butts get up and have breakfast. I don't know when she sleeps, but there's always hot coffee, all sort of hot meals, and packs of Н3 for everyone. Not that we ate the last ones, but there's so much mud on them that they're not exactly appetizing. All things considered, mud and organic trash are food like any other, and the non-organic ones are not trash at all, as the racer's body is not assimilating them anyway. So it's like they didn't exist.









The self deploying tents are a real treasure. Actually no, better than that. They're priceless. When you're broke and tired, under heavy rain, and you don't even remember where up and down is, you simply take the tent out of its housing, and drop it at your feet. Then it pops by itself and deploys. If it deploys itself with the entrance on the wrong side, you simply turn it in the right direction and drop dead inside. It goes back into it's housing in 10 more secs, if you're really lazy. Otherwise it's even faster. The self inflating mattresses are another story. They do inflate well, but when you're still groggy, they require some strength to roll. They must be great for camping. But not for work.

The whole night, arc welders make a day out of the night around us. We're not needing that yet.



We tighten the nuts on the wheel hub with a new washer, manage to get back like 10% of our braking abilities, and off we go for Special Stage 2.

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

Every year the race laps the lake clockwise. This year, though, it will be anticlockwise. We start from the south edge and move north east. The start of Special Stage 2 is unusually close to the camp - 7km. The SS itself is around 14km long, the maximum allowed time to pass being 10 hours. Difficulty is 8 on a scale of 10. From the return from the final to the camp is 13km. The second final is at the camp itself, and one has to finish within an hour after the finish of SS2. Maximum allowed speed is 40km/h, supposedly for safety. Two days later, the limit will be lifted, and whoever didn't respect it will suddenly be propulsed to the top of the list. This doesn't help Ovchinnikov's reputation - nobody knows why they did it this way. Certainly not to help his own people to climb to the top of the list.

On the road we meet an obviously pissed UAZ driver. His GPS can't fix a signal, and he asks us how to reach the start. His navigator is immediately given instructions and a fresh walkie talkie from our stash, and rushes away. Then, one of our boys remembers that this same driver helped them some previous year. A skinny, blond young man, named Arkadiy. Later we will help each other countless times. He'll prove himself a tough man. Not his two navigators - both long time friends, which he'll send back to Moscow right in the middle of the race. From there, it will be only him, his mechanics and his father - a 70 years old biologist who, after two heart attacks, is still his son's biggest fan.

They made it almost to the end of the race, then everything was over because of the two BMW alternators on top of the engine - they wouldn't stop bending the supports, and eventually the pulley broke at the worst possible moment. I guess that's what Ladoga is. Every day dozens of vehicles turned litterally to scrap.

The track:



The place:



The forest is not too dense here
And the start



This is where we realize we forgot our transponder. The little gizmo which the judges will scan through the registration machine, so it can record the times and the numbers automatically. There's also another GPS black box given to each crew, which is verified at the end. The width of the track is 50 meters left and right from the azimuths, and you're not allowed to go out. Anyway, we don't have the time to go back. With no transponder the stage will be void for us, but we'll stubbornly drive through it anyway.

It's pretty dry for the first few hundred meters




Then it keeps looking dry and solid. But it no longer is.











So the navigators grip their walkie talkies and rush to the forest, to find a path which would be good enough for their pilot and vehicle. Everything is sorted out by gesticulation or on the radio - in this forest, shouting "I'm here" is useless - the sound reverberates and seems to come from everywhere. If they are not in direct line of sight, navigators will give instructions mentioning the exact distance, the turning points, on what gear, and how much throttle should be applied. If possible, with a precision up to one meter. Otherwise, he'll have to rush back and grip the winch's rope, because the jeep will be already stuck. The navigation part itself is symbolical - there's no way you can miss where the tracks from the previous vehicle are )



Wherever the pilot can make it without guidance and the navigator is in the vehicle (not very often), the usual view in the cabin is an overexcited and racing driver, sharing some endless story involving sexual heroism, older acquaintances and indirect family members, and a dozing navigator (or one watching the little birds outside). At each intersection, the pilot will ask "Which way ???", which he'll receive a categorical "The main track", or "The beaten track". From time to time, when both tracks look equally beaten, the conversation will get deeper:
Pilot: Which way ?
Navigator: The main track
P: They look the same.
N: Huh, where are we again ? AAA, ok


A ford as they are by the book:



Entry and exit are both inclined at 45 degrees. We are in a rush and play smart, so we don't walk the path on foot first. Too bad, there are remains of a fallen bridge at the bottom. Logs half a meter across, and they are not evenly placed of course. The perfect trap. As expected, our brakes disappear at the very beginning, and Rocky's nose digs in the mud almost vertically. The hit is pretty hard. We make it somehow, but the steering is all gone. Arkadiy passes by, and hooks us on his winch - ours is dug somewhere under the mud and the logs.



Time for sit rep. Gone are the self made steering arm and the whole left wheel hub along with the locking hub. We ask for the arc welding machine on the radio, then sit for a few minutes, eat a bit and watch the ones after us.



There's a UAZ waiting under another tree. There's Миндель (Mindel) written on the hood. I ask the guy where the pilot is. Surprised, he says "I'm the pilot". We laugh together and introduce, this is how I make acquaintance with Немодный himself.



On the map, we find a grader road through which the Cherokee can reach us. That's not very common, as a matter of principle there are no usable parallel roads during the race. That's why Russians don't say "he's on the track", but "he's in the track". It's not a language error - except in the Standard and Tourism class, there's no way an unprepared vehicle will make it on this tracks, and nothing is sure for the prepped ones. So there's no help to be expected except from the ones already there. Parts, fuel, food, towing - everybody helps as much as he can.

Not all the crews who have a chance to actually make it to the finish within the allowed times will stop to help, but when people know that a crew actually has a shot to the top positions, they will not let him stop to help them. Even the most desperate ones. "Go, drive, we'll make it somehow".

We're lucky - our track is meant for TR2 and partially TR3, that's why there's a connection with some sort of road. The generator works fine, and the arc welding machine doesn't suffer any voltage drops. The arm can be welded in only one possible way, and it sort of works - we will be able to sorta kinda make left turns, and will have a tiny shiny chance of making veeery large right turns. Now that's something
As for the axle, the problem is a well known one typical to the military axles - the locking ring went fishing, and the external bearing fell all the way to the internal one. That's why the wheel hub has such play, that's why we have no brakes, and so on. There's not much we can do, all that's left to us is to to stuff an empty bearing race between the two bearings to keep them apart. It will work. Sort of. The brakes are still a distant memory, but at least it won't get worse. Now I understand the saying "Let's go to Ladoga, so we can fix the jeep" Everybody does the same anyway. We keep going.











We make it to the next ford. The banks are the same as the ones in our extreme stages, the difference is that the exit bank consists in knee-deep mud. In between, there are two legs of a stream, with mud bottom, and a mud island between them. Twenty meters.





















The track is dry and hard for a few hundred meters. We pass two broken Toyotas for which we have no spare parts at all and can't help, then I see the Swamp for the first time. I never saw it before, but there's no need to ask - I can't be wrong on that one.

[Иван Алексиев]

До: Ладога 2008

Stefan, can you give us more details on the UAZ Patriot teams ? I can see in the list that both made it to the finish - why the bad feedback given by the teams you cited earlier ?
https://htftp.offroad-bulgaria.com/I...lts08final.pdf

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

I guess they just didn't like it ))
Every meter of movement requires a lot of effort. When you add the endless repairs, you start wondering if it's worth running this and that specific model from this and that brand. It applies to all the brands, no matter how advertised they are. At Ladoga, natural selection left only the UAZ and the "Japanese UAZ"

[Lazar]

До: Ладога 2008

Errr, the more I look at the final results, the more "English UAZ" I see

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

Defenders are another story. Like a different pack, at a different price. As far as I'm concerned - a piece of junk. It's not the first, nor the last time I'm saying it. The chassis is way heaviert than the UAZ one. Owners don't even care changing the engine, as it gives no result.

As a matter of fact, Russians are not dainty as far as equipment choice goes. They don't care where it comes from and who built it, as long as it works and is reliable. The stuff I saw at the emergency centers - I couldn't even name a large part of it. I'm sure even the countries where these things are made don't own as many units as these guys had. All I could do was screaming of envy

[ТОДОР ХРИСТОВ]

До: Ладога 2008

I see there were a lot of ATVs, can you give us more details on that ones
And kudos for a job well done !

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

We met them a few times on the track - now we know we are crazy, but these guys - they were plain nuts ))
The thing can ride in mud up to the handlebar. The don't sink as much in the swamps, and sometimes the manage to make it on the surface and reach the forest without sinking again. It's on the track that it suffers - sometimes there are logs in the tracks, with half a meter of muddy water on top. They ride in pairs only, but have no navigators to run in front of them and attach the ropes. The logs under the water and mud are like deathtraps to them, often blocking them and breaking the machines. They rarely manage to get off the bike alone once in the camp, as they're half death of exhaustion, and the need help stepping down. At some point in the past, there used to be a motorcycles category as well. Same problems.

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

In the forest, there are usually more moss and lichens than grass. And on the clearing I'm at, there are flowers as well. But you can't run on it. Under the tuffs, there is knee deep dark brown water. And underneath - who knows what. Roots. Centuries old walking sticks. It will suck you leg in with a smile. If you don't panic, don't make brisk movements or other stupid stuff, you might have the time to take one leg out with your two hands, and make a step. Then the other one. Sometimes, you can even manage to stay on the surface and walk on the dry parts for a bit. This is what a turf swamp is. Normal people will stay away from it. The navigators will look for a tree which will be strong enough the hold the tie the winch rope, and a spot for the vehicle to go to. A 30cm (1ft) thick tree is no warranty - the winch will pull it out, and the tree will fall like it has never been rooted. Compared to that, a three thumbs thick tree rooted on solid ground is rock solid. The swamp sucks in, the winch pulls, and whatever people are around braces the tree. A pissed off navigator stops a 9-12000lb winch with his bare hands

The navigator shows the path to follow and the turning points, the jeep screems on second gear, then takes off, or better - glides as far as it can. Should the wheels slip, you're hopelessly stuck. You can then just as well take the racing numbers off, the wheels, if you can (the tires are the most expensive part of the jeep), and go home.
In such conditions, a 300hp V8 makes everybody laugh. A Lada's engine becomes an envied commodity. Then it starts. The extenders are never enough. The trees get unrooted like snowdrops. You can't follow other people's ruts, they lead nowhere. Other team's vehicles are used as anchor points - everything you drop sinks down to dinosaur land - a few meters and a million years under your feet.

At the edge of the forest, there are trees whch saw several races. You can tell by the scars from the ropes. It's forbidden to attach the ropes without protection, or the attach them above the ground. This allows the trees to be saved. But if you attach higher, things immediately get easier. Wherever the trees are thicker, it can be done.
The navigator's main responsibility is to take care of the rope. Should it show any slack, he takes the slack out. Otherwise it will get spooled around a wheel, and that will be it. And the pilot can't afford to stop, or he'll get stuck again.

The mud has a sweet smell. Like something on the verge of rotting. But it doesn't rot. And it doesn't soil. It leaves you wet, but clean, no mud sticks to your clothes.

Then the road gets better



Wherever the highway is too bad





We take the shoulder













Then a nice, long road comes





A small ford













And a long forgotten small bridge somebody left years ago for the next races



Use of chainsaws is not allowed on the SS, but most of the people are faster with an axe anyway. Sometimes you can secure the logs to the edge of the bank, if it's dry and solid. If not - years ago people used to bring full buckets of log clamps. Nowadays the winch straps are so inexpensive that most of the people will just leave them there once they've secured the bridge. And they are safer than the straps should the bridge capsize. And anyway, it will help the next guy, that's reason enough.

We don't care about the finish - we forgot our transponder. But we made the whole SS withing the allowed time - that's what counts for us.

[Венцислав Петров]

До: Ладога 2008

Stefan's participation to Ladoga 2008 and this article wouldn't have been possible without:



OFFRoad-Bulgaria.com
OFFROAD BG Magazine

General sponsor: T.T + Т.Т. Младши


Тони Илиев
Spas55
rumbata
Иван Алексиев
Станко Вълчанов
Pursie
Александър Василев Димитров
Евгении Кукурешков
vladi333
iiiopo
Павлена Николова
Tramp
Веско
sabin
МИШО/ELEKTRIK
zzlatev
Yaro
peppy
Ivich
BatGeorgeone
Явор(dorzi)

The pictures were made with dust and water proof gear from Olympus, some of it provided by the official importer of Olympus Cameras for Bulgaria

Thanks to all the others which we might have missed here

[Стефан]

До: Ладога 2008

The sun is back. Time for SS-3. There are 66km of fancy roads to the start line.















The start line, and a reminder to turn our black box on.



Something's fishy. The announced difficulty was 8 out of 10, and still - we've been driving on asphalt for the last 3km. Nice, liquid asphalt, that is. Taking most of the turns doesn't even require a winch. Weird.









By the time I say it, the jeep gets stuck. I jinxed it. It's not good for navigators to stay on the seat too long, anyway. Welcome to Karelia !












The state border is far away, but we have already crossed the offroad one. Rocks. Plenty of them, simple nice rocks. Usually, there are no rocks in the swamps. Those came from somewhere. They sit at the bottom of the ruts, just where the glacier left them 100000 years ago, on its way to the Arctic Ocean. It forgot them, like a drunk guest would forget his empty bottle. I guess it didn't suspect some day we'd like to follow the same way.

Sounds are muffled. When the mud reaches the middle of the doors, all sounds are muffled. So the scratching sound would come muffled, just as the sound of the revving engine, just before the axle gets stuck on the rock. Then the jeep would make an extra feet or two, and get hopelessly stuck, maybe forever. That's a known scenario, but fortunately - we ignore it, and are lucky enough not to get any of the axle ripped off. Not this time. But just in case, we go easy from there on.



We progress slowly. Then, in treacherously nice looking ford, waist deep and full of logs, a blue Toyota, number 732, passes us like an express train. The pilot is covered in mud. The navigator, a hybrid between a man and a locomotive, pounds his foot under the water three times, shows where the turn is, instructs the pilot when to slam the throttle, winks and disappears. Meanwhile, I'm poking around with my stick, looking for the same thing - the right place to make the turn. I guess me and this guy both studied the same military topography, but I never crammed the "swamps" section, as we have no large swamps in Bulgaria. But all this long forgotten wisdom starts to kick in, and our progress gets faster.

Then we find a skeleton on the bank of a small river:



Or at least, some remains of a mythical creature. We take a track link as a souvenir. Years from now, we'll put it on top of the fireplace, and will tell tales how the Трелевочник (trellevochnik) wanted to stop us, and how we won, and how this is a vertebra from his back. Trellevochniks are those large track type forest tractors. The smallest ones are larger than our largest tractors. A 4x4 team who manages to follow this beast's path for one kilometer becomes a legend.

I'll post soon a picture of myself, fearlessly holding a rope in the best Hollywood-like way possible. I am not carrying my poking stick, and the mud at the bottom sucks me in big time. My hydro suit fills with what looks like a ton of water. Or 20 liters - same effect. I'm sucked in towards the bottom. The pilot knows his stuff and freezes, pulling the rope tight.

In such situations, Russians don't lament and don't panic. They all do what is needed, always. Then, eventually, when you're safe, they will ask you how you're doing. If you say yes, they'll leave you alone, still keeping a careful eye on you. If they see something is really not going well with you, they'll do whatever is needed, right away. In my case, they are concerned by the way I'm staring at the little buoy which Sabin gave me. The one that holds the camera, without which there would be no pictures here. Then,

It's been raining for the last 2 hours, and it's warm - +6 or +8 degrees C, but the wind is ugly. I put the suit back on, take the 100 grams of pure alcohol from the first aid kit, pour it into my coffee and start crapping up the cockpit. For the first time since we met, nobody wants to share my bottle. Later on, other people will tell me that my friends left it all for me, as 100 grams are not supposed to be enough for situations like that.

Later we realize that we're already on Logger's Path (Тропа лесорубов). This is a place where even the trellevochniks couldn't make it without help.
We pass a perfectly prepped Wrangler with what seems to be a fantastic team. Later they'll make it third in their class, but right here the Jeep can't make it against our axles on leaf springs.
A bit before the finish we hear from Arkadiy on the radio. He gave us the location of two gulches earlier, but is now way behind us, with a broken alternator belt and no power. We don't have a belt, and we can't make a U-turn and ride in the opposite direction. It's been two days we have not seen him. The connection is crappy, the batteries on his hand held radio are obviously going dead. We cross the finish.





We push all the 50 Watts on our radio. We know he can't reply, so we slowly give instructions, hoping he's listening. We tell him what we are going to do, what path to follow on foot to reach us to evacuate his crew. We will wait for an hour. After slightly more than an hour we hear him but don't understand a word. The finish is closed, now we can make an U-turn. A little later we hear that his people found a belt and that they are on the road. We look at the map, check what time it is, and start inflating the tires. There are 90km to the camp, we can never make it in time, and our stage will not be validated. We don't discuss it. We talk about bears, mooses, even women, then switch to high technologies. We take the front cardan shaft out again, to keep ourselves busy.
Welding a cardan shaft right on the gravel is great fun. It moves. Well, it doesn't move by itself, it might be the rain pouring right under my collar which makes me twitchy. In any event, once you put it back, it shakes so much you feel the steering wheel trying to rip free from your hands.
Well, we have strong arms. We'll make it.

[Lazar]

До: Ладога 2008

One more question, in what frequency range did you guys communicate ? I see 145.900Mhz on the picture ?