Partying with Vladivostok’s Iron Tigers MC

Tomorrow, February 26th 2018, I’m heading to Lao PDR. It’s an 11-hour $12 overnight bus journey from Bangkok to Nong Khai in Northern Thailand, and then, a short $1 but ride across the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge over the Mekong River into Vientiane Capital, Lao PDR. I’ll stay in Vientiane for two or three nights, and then take another 5-hour bus ride north to the town of Vang Vieng, on the River Song.

From Vang Vieng, a place that I could comfortably call ’home’, I’ll rent a scooter and ride east through the Plain of Jars to Long Tieng (Long Chen). Last time I attempted to ride to Long Tieng, the former CIA airbase that never existed, I was arrested. But thankfully, it was an Asian Arrest, so I’m not sure if it counts on my official list of prison-time whilst travelling?

A few dollars had secured my freedom, but sadly, my SD Card had been confiscated and my progress to arguably the most secret place on planet earth, had been halted. I’m still not entirely sure how you can be arrested for visiting a place that doesn’t officially exist, but this time, hopefully, I’ll be successful.

I'll be away from the Internet and Steemit for a few days, but in the spirit of ”what could possibly go wrong”, here’s an anecdote from a couple of years ago ………..

Having discovered that the Amur Highway hadn’t yet been built, after riding the four thousand kilometers of dirt road and missing bridges across the wilds of Siberia, from Chita in the west to Khabarovsk in the east, as I’d ridden into Vladivostok, the Iron Tigers Motorcycle Club had been there to welcome me into their city.

They’d immediately taken me under their wing, allowed me to use their workshop and to sleep for ten nights in The Box, a room above their Vlad-Moto workshops dedicated to accommodating overland motorcyclists.

Their patience and hospitality had been amazing, and to mark my departure to South Korea the following day, they’d decided to host a small party in my honour. Of course, a small party in Vladivostok with the Iron Tigers is similar to a small party with motorcyclists anywhere else in the world, only bigger, and with far more vodka.

In the early hours of the following morning, when the food and dancing had finished, but sufficient vodka had remained, everybody had taken their turn to tell a motorcycle related story. It had all been in Russian, obviously, and I hadn’t understood a single word. But finally they’d insisted that it had been my turn to speak and Mikhail, the President of the Iron Tigers MC, had volunteered to act as my personal translator.

I’d decided to share with them a story as relayed to me by a German traveller, a motorcyclist I’d met at a similar vodka fueled party a month earlier on the Lake Baikal island of Ol Chon…

Asil was a Turkish boy who had two passions in life: Motorcycles and Travelling. Disillusioned with his life in Turkey and angered at the prospect of having to complete one year of compulsory National Service in the Turkish Armed Forces, he’d loaded his motorcycle and set out to discover the world on two wheels.

He travelled all across Europe, through North and South America, down into the centre of Africa and eventually arrived in Mongolia. In Mongolia, Asil discovered that his Turkish passport was soon to expire and visited the Turkish Embassy in order to have it renewed. Unfortunately for Asil, the Turkish embassy in Ulanbaatar had realised that he’d failed to complete his compulsory year of National Service back in Turkey, and refused point-blank to renew his passport.

Enjoying his freedom, and with absolutely no desire to serve for a year in the Turkish army, Asil sought advice from his new friends in Mongolia. After much discussion it appeared that there was only one possible solution to his problem. Asil should find and marry a Mongolian girl, and then apply for Mongolian Citizenship and a Mongolian passport.

The cunning plan had actually worked. Asil had found and fallen in love with a girl, and within a few short months they’d married. A little while later, after receiving his Mongolian Citizenship, Asil then collected all of the documents necessary to apply for his Mongolian passport. So, with a spring in his step, he’d taken himself and his documents to the passport office in Ulanbaatar and waited patiently in line.

Eventually, Asil’s application form and documents had been taken and inspected by an official from the Mongolian Ministry of the Interior. But, unfortunately, the news that greeted Asil wasn’t the news he’d hoped for.

Asil, who was by then 23 years of age and a Mongolian Citizen, would by law have to complete two years of unpaid National Service with the Mongolian Border Patrol Force.

Thanks for reading …..

Riding and smiling as always ….. Geoff