RUSSIA - the unhappy USSR

This trip to Russia was extraordinary on many counts and that’s why I want to mention it. Despite that it took place more than half a century ago.  It was my first trip abroad and quite an eye opener to the young man that I was at that time.  It was virtually impossible to travel abroad then during the hard-line commie regime in Czechoslovakia of that period when Russia was really the USSR. 
The crude Czech communist propaganda painted it as an absolutely superior “brother forever” and a “shining example” for us and the world.

We had to use a ‘ruse’ to somehow receive special permission for our expedition which had as its purpose kayak exploration of wild rivers in the Caucasus region.  Actually, a mathematician friend of ours was giving then private math-lessons to a highly placed army general – in his preparation for a high-school final exam ( so called maturity exam). 
That, of course, could speak volumes of the contemporary commie leadership educational level.  And through the word of this general it was how we received a very special permit for 12 of us “paddlers” to take four cars, a few kayaks and all the supplies and go expedition-like for a 7,500 km round trip to the Caucasus mountains. 
And that’s how this enchanting and thoroughly shocking trip originated – to shoot some Caucasus white-water river streams.  Crazy idea – just corresponding to our desire for travel and adventures. And what an eye-opening adventure this was ! 
Never mind that Ukraine, Russia and Georgia that we crossed, are nowadays all independent countries - this was one sweeping trip through a part of what was then one country – the totalitarian USSR. We managed to glimpse at what was, and still is, a truly huge country.  In 1961 it was under quite a hard-nosed communist regime where Khrushchev just took the power. And that empire was militaristic, ruthless and dangerous - but poor, brain-washed, isolated and miserable, historically going through one convulsion after another for centuries.

A little confused just what really to expect, the 12 of us packed 3 colorful Skoda cars and one Russian Volga car with gears, supplies, spare parts – and kayaks on roof-tops.  I emphasize the color of the cars – blue, yellow and red Skodas and a baby blue Volga.  These cars became an apparition to the Russian population all along the way. All that simple Russians were familiar with at that time were olive-green military jeeps and black government Volga passenger cars. 

And zipping by, here came this rainbow streak of foreign vehicles – “You must be Americans ! You are from Czechoslovakia ?  Oh-well, I don’t quite know it beyond the Ural mountains” – we actually heard that many  times.

THE UKRAINE

At that time, there were virtually no foreigners allowed into the USSR and we had a strictly limited access visa for a controlled travel route through Russia. Sure enough, shortly after we crossed the border, a police motorcycle with a sidecar started tailing our little convoy. Bored by a monotonous drive through flat Ukraine we could not help playing a cat-and-mouse game with that Russian accompaniment.  Their clumsy motorcycle just could not keep up when we playfully accelerated on the west-east primitive but relatively smooth highway.  Never mind, they must have thought, radio-waves are faster – and we could notice a police crew waiting for us at every major intersection.  Fine, we just kept to our schedule, reporting into the best hotels (for foreigners) at the end of our driving days in major cities along the way. These were pre-booked for us and expecting us. This part made for a boring drive – but extremely educational.

One could not NOT notice huge fields along the way just before the summer harvest – with tiny rarified wheat overgrown by dominating huge weeds.  Rather disastrous agricultural results !  Certainly far from that “shining example” which our commie propaganda was feeding us with at home.  You remember hearing of those “Potemkin’s villages” ? 

Right along the main road we saw those poor and decrepit villages – the fronts of their primitive wooden houses painted silver (!!).  This “beautification” was likely done with the stolen paint from a gas pipeline that was being constructed toward the ‘West’ right along our route.  That was the only type of paint available to the dirt poor local collective “super-farmers”.  This depressing view was rolling right by us -

Our eyes were just becoming wider and wider as we stopped to overnight on our way through Ukraine, then one of the  Soviet Union republics.  We stopped over in Ukraine's large drab cities on our way East:  Uzhgorod, Lviv, Zhytomyr, Kiev, Kharkiv, and then we turned due south passing through Russian Rostov, Pyatigorsk – and on towards the Caucasus.  The juxta-position and contrast of what we heard and what we witnessed driving through the European heartland of the USSR was just mindboggling. While none of us did believe the manufactured brainwashing propaganda of the commie regime in Czechoslovakia, what we saw around us ‘on location’ was surpassing all our expectations.  Poor and totally brainwashed local folks !

We were an immediate local attraction wherever we stopped. Our ‘special’ hotels were usually on main squares of our stop-over cities – and that’s where ritual late-afternoon promenades of the locals were taking place daily (something like our grandfathers may have remembered at home).
At the end of one day, maybe in Zhytomyr (or could it have been in Kharkiv ?), a few of us were sitting on the first-floor hotel balcony overlooking the gathered crowd below that was thoroughly examining the line-up of our parked cars, even crawling underneath them. A self appointed crowd-leader had a discourse there.  We could understand Russian rather well:

“You see, comrades, these are undoubtedly the prototypes of our new soviet cars.  They are equipped for all circumstances. Notice the floats on their roof-tops. It may happen that a road ends at a river – no problem for these cars. They flip over and cross the waterway on those floats.” 

We almost flipped from the balcony over this unexpected elevation of our kayaks, obviously never before seen by that population.  Such extraordinary gatherings took place in every city where we stopped.  Incredible encounters as we were mocked by curious crowds –

We spoke Russian and could communicate, engaging in all kinds of discussions. As foreigners (with ‘fancy’ cars !), we were automatically considered to be Americans. Over and over again we were answering curious questions fired from the gathering crowds – who are you ? what jobs ? how much salary ? these were test cars ? – NO, just our cars - and THAT proved to have been just too much for the inquisitors.  Once, after an awkwardly silent pause, a self-appointed crowd leader just declared with a stone face:  “But Gagarin - you don’t have !” – and with the air of victorious superiority he walked away.

Russians are marvelously hospitable and warm people – totally unfortunate though, historically.  For centuries, their rulers just brutally have kept them down.

TOWARD CAUCASUS

The deeper south we reached, the more disorganized the country was – and our police supervision eventually lost track of us as we were approaching the Caucasus where we had to, at least symbolically, also touch its highest mountain in Europe – Mt. Elbrus (15,554 ft = 5,642 m). Not acclimatized, we experienced the high altitude sickness already when reaching the mid station Priyut.  The side-trip to Mt Elbrus led through many kilometers of a gorgeous wild river valley (Baksan) where one could spend the rest of life shooting its boiling rapids.

We had just a small exposure to it all, mother nature was overwhelming and our itinerary crowded.  But it was all worth it.  No propaganda, just wonderful mountains and endless whitewater streams –

Caucasus  mountains have been dividing continents and cultures since times immemorial.  With a marvel of a road cutting wildly through them – the Georgian Military Road.  One cannot forget the multitudes of wild road switchbacks and not less wild car horn sounds echoing through the valleys as trucks barreled along – when they were not stuck in an endless line-up. The Road is a bewildering mountain range passage that brings northern travelers, not quite safely, across and down south into the plains of Georgia with Tbilisi as its capital and our next destination.

GEORGIA

Quite a different country, different folks and different attitudes.  Despite its long-term association with the Soviet empire, there is a big difference between Georgians and their Russian neighbors across the Caucasus.  Even their simple white shirts and dark pants or skirts strike a more Italian-like resemblance, making a more elegant impression than the lack of taste we noted in rather insular Ukraine that did not seem to have any notion of the rest of the world.

Then locally, we wanted to see Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan.  No dice, not allowed, it was not on our visa itinerary, end of discussion.  So we turned West and continued driving toward Sukhumi on the Black Sea – who will see the sea first ? Many of us had never seen a sea before. Finally !

Recently, I have read somewhere:  “Sukhumi – a beautiful decay”.  Yes, Sukhumi was scenic and simple when we visited – however, mildly said, the region there has been rather tumultuous.

TURNING HOME
At the end of our final land-trip leg was Sochi – a Russian seaside resort town (the Caucasian Riviera), recently made famous through the 2014 Winter Olympic Games.  We also relaxed there for a few beautiful days –
Eventually, we had our cars loaded onto a ship – funny to see them hoisted high, floating on a crane high above our heads. Around, we could not miss a whole bunch of very good-looking girls getting ready to board the same ship.  As we chatted, they turned up to be members of Beryozka dance troupe.  Their company made it easier for us to leave the Sochi paradise and we were looking forward to our sea voyage.  Next morning of the departure, however, a blizzard roared in with 5m waves. 
 

Our huge ship sailed alright but pitched and rolled in the rough seas.  That was not too good for us land-lubbers and my buddy and I wanted to sleep outside in the fresh air, eventually finding a nook right behind the ship’s stack – overlooking the main deck.  That way, we could see the ballerinas promenading right below apparently looking for us.  Our 'destabilized' stomachs, however, made us remain sheepishly in hiding.  The Beryozka ensemble left the boat next day at the next stop-over in Yalta, or was it Sevastopol ?
At the end of our sea voyage was the Ukraine port of Odessa.
The remaining land leg took us relatively fast from Odessa all the way home to Praha.
We covered about 7,500 km through a difficult-to-visit USSR.  We saw and experienced.

And I think that I am digesting this whole trip – still.