FRIDAY 26th JUNE 2009 (ODESSA to IZMAIIL)

FRIDAY 26th JUNE 2009


We're both raring to go. Yesterday's rest did us the world of good. A twenty-four hour period of being relatively stress-free...!!!



We left DOM's at 10.30am with the aim of getting to the Romanian border. The bike now has 925 kms on the clock. It ran so well two nights ago that we felt 'almost' confident of making some miles.


However.....NINE kilometers up the road the bike was seriously popping, banging and surging (hey Henzell, these are technical words!) which meant parking up on the footpath yet again. Geez, we're not even half-way out of Odessa! The same problem we've always had reared its head again. What on earth is going on...??? Being an intermittent problem makes it difficult to find.


As is our luck within a couple of minutes Nicolai SUPRUGA rocked in on his 1949 ISH Planeta. He did a double-take when he saw us parked on the footpath and came to investigate. Not a word of English could he speak but before we could blink Paul somehow ended up on the back of his bike and they were off to some kind of market to get something that you pour in the tank, then shake and then he gesticulated madly which we took to mean it would lubricate the valves. Possibly upper cylinder lubricant which Paul had wanted to get. I did laugh at the two of them riding off. The little 'Planeta' had no passenger seat but I found our small blanket and Paul sat on that.


When they returned Paul said they rode up several back lane-ways until they came to a 'hidden' auto-mart with everything from CRC to 60mm spanners. Exactly what Paul had been looking for but had no hope of finding.


With our bike fired up Nicolai offered to show us the way out of Odessa - we appreciated that as signage is BAD, almost non-existent. It is now 1.15pm - so much for our reasonably early start!


Twenty kilometers out of Odessa the bike was playing up again - do we go back to Odessa where we know someone who can 'help' or do we persevere? Then, all of a sudden, Paul whooped as he discovered the problem. The fuel was boiling on the right cylinder before entering the head. With a tickle of the carb the bike picked up and away she went again. This is the side with the ammo box restricting the air flow around the cylinder.

Another 60 kilometers up the road Paul pulled into a servo to check the bike. It had a little shade and sold petrol but that was all. Paul proceeded to make a gasket for the tappet cover as the one made at the GOBLIN Rally leaked like a sieve. There was oil over the whole right side of the bike. The only thing we could find was some rubber tubing so that was cut to shape and inserted. There was a rubber gasket in situ originally.










On the road again, this time we are progressing along reasonably well at 50 kph with me tickling the carby very regularly! We knew we couldn't make the border tonight but were hoping at least to get to ISMAIIL. As we got closer and closer we felt a little more confident that the bike would actually be capable of carrying us through some interesting country over the next week or two.



That is until a funny noise was heard and Paul pulled over quick-smart as the letters S-E-I-Z-E-D ricocheted between our bulging eyes. And there we sat....

















Paul would kick the bike periodically to prevent the piston from being stuck in the bore and all we could do is wait till she cooled down. The sky was threatening BIG TIME and we just hoped that we were on the road again before it bucketed down on us. What am I talking about....we just hoped we'd be back on the road! We only had 20 kms to go before we reached Ismaiil.


And, like a good girl, the bike sprang into life and it was ridden ever-so-carefully the next 20 kms. And it DID bucket down on us - so much that we had to pull over - couldn't see a thing and the road became worse than a river.

















The first sign we saw was a 'bed' symbol and so we pulled up the side road to find ourselves at a truckies stop! It was pretty crappy but the chances of finding something in Ismaiil proper were slim too. Crappy or not, this is where we are staying as the next lot of threatening black clouds were looming FAST. We no sooner got our gear inside and down she came, heavier than the first deluge. We didn't care that our home for the night was less-than-ordinary. If we had gone on we would've been wet through. The night turned out a hoot. One of the truckies explained to us, using much waving around of arms, that to shower we must pull out the power lead that was heating the water, go and shower, come back, dry your hands very well and plug the lead back in - otherwise you will get ELECTROCUTED and DIE. No regard to OH&S but at least we were aware of the dangers!



The rain passed and we walked up the road a little way to a cafe-bar where we enjoyed an encounter with some of the locals. They'd never seen a foreigner before. Again, no verbal understanding arose between us but one of the fellows ordered us a bowl of SOLYANKA. We wondered what we would get and out came the most beautiful soup with vegies, meat, olives and lemon (among other ingredients). Gee it was good.


It was during the meal that Paul quietly announced that he's come up with a name for the bike - HORS (Heap Of Russian Shit). And so "The HORS" it is...