Off The Rails

by Chris Hatherly

  I reflected on the year we’d spent together. ‘Friends’ was the best word I could think of to describe our relationship. But at that moment, it wasn’t exactly what sprang to mind. Our relationship had been unique and indescribable. Sometimes it had seemed more like a business partnership than anything. We’d come together – for better or for worse – for a single purpose and we’d stayed together to see it through. It had been 24/7 for most of the year and often we’d had no one to talk to but each other. Almost everything that either of us had done had had an effect on the other, and in that sense – in its intensity – it had been more like a marriage than anything. Yet there had been very little love lost on either side, and at times our relationship had been a hell of a stormy one.

  So many times during the past year I’d decided that Tim and I simply rubbed each other fundamentally the wrong way. So many things about him pissed me off and yet there were so many things about him that I couldn’t help but admire: his unflagging drive and his unshakeable optimism, to name but a few. We’d had so many explosive arguments and early on, especially, I’d sometimes hated him. A sad reflection of my intolerance, I guess, but then, I don’t doubt that his feelings for me had often been the same. Over the long, rough course of time, we’d both learned to live with a thousand little compromises, and the learning had changed us both. That change in each of us had been for the better, of course. But it had also changed the nature of the friendship that we’d started off with, too. I remembered back to the beginning of the trip and a poignant prediction I’d made in a letter to Nat: This journey will either make or break our friendship for good and all.

  I looked wanly at Tim. I decided that it had come pretty close to being both in the end. We’d had definite boundaries during the year, privacies that our conversations did not touch, but despite that, I probably knew Tim and all his weaknesses, ambitions and dreams better than anybody else alive. Tim probably knew me better than anyone else as well. My weaknesses at any rate. He definitely knew my weaknesses better than Nat did.

  And for all that, what did it all mean? I glanced at him again, then shook my head with a private grin. A year or so with a thousand kilometres between us would probably do the world of good. After that? Well, I was one hundred percent sure that we’d end up lifelong friends.

  We pedalled off into the crowd again and soon found ourselves heading down a long, straight promenade lined with tall, important-looking buildings and buzzing with eight lanes of traffic. We stopped at a traffic light to give way to pedestrians and saw, amid a sea of Chinese faces, a tall, elderly European-looking man.

  ‘Hi!’ Tim yelled. ‘Over here!’

  The stares of the crowd doubled but the man in the green golfing cap almost stumbled over us before he noticed our bikes. ‘Oh! Hello there,’ he said in a pleasant English accent. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.’ His face showed a gentle kindness and not a bit of surprise. He seemed ludicrously out of place in this bustling city – even more so than we did!

  ‘Um, hi,’ Tim continued. ‘Could you please tell us how to get to Tiananmen Square?’

  ‘Oh! What? Oh, yes. Tiananmen Square. Just let me think. Why yes. It’s about a mile ahead, but a few blocks off to the left. Take the next left, then turn right again after several hundred yards. That should take you straight there, I’d say. Jolly good!’ The lights changed and we were on our way again.

  Tim’s brake cable snapped – our last one. ‘Great timing,’ he groaned, but it didn’t matter. Ten minutes later, we crossed an intersection and rode past a gigantic portrait of Mao Zedong. There it was, right before us, Tiananmen Square. The heart of Beijing and the final destination of our dream.

  We fell into a silent reverie, overcome by emotion. There was a deep sadness that the long adventure had finally come to an end and, of course, an overwhelming euphoria. But mostly there was just a bewildering sense of uncertainty – or maybe it was a sense of freedom? The journey that had occupied us both for so long was finally over and now only the daunting prospect of the future remained.

  We met up with Helen by the fence at the top end of the square. She gave us bunches of flowers, and she’d brought her Chinese teacher and the whole class along too. A camera flashed somewhere, a newspaper photographer maybe, but I couldn’t see. A gate opened and we were allowed to wheel our bikes onto Tiananmen Square.

  ‘You’re not allowed to ride them though,’ Helen translated for the stern-looking guard.

  I wheeled through the crowd of tourists, feeling numb. We stopped and I turned to Tim. ‘That’s it, mate. That’s fourteen months, finished.’

  He shook his head. He breathed out slowly. ‘Unbelievable.’

  Afterword

  ———

  A week after finishing the journey Tim and Chris flew home to Melbourne and Sydney respectively. They secured the interest of an Australian film company and a documentary was subsequently made about their journey. Australian Geographic recognised their adventure with the 2000 ‘Spirit of Adventure Award’.

  In June of the following year, Tim returned to Siberia with three others to row a wooden boat 4500 kilometres down the length of the Yenisey River to the Arctic Ocean.

  Chris was reunited with Natalie. In 2002 he returned to the Australian National University to study psychology. He and Nat were married in Canberra on 7 December 2002 – the anniversary of their relationship and Tim’s twenty-fourth birthday.

  For more than twelve months after the journey Tim and Chris lived 1000 kilometres apart and barely spoke. In the process of writing this book, however, their friendship has been rekindled and strengthened. In a strange way, they find themselves back at square one, inspiring each other with e-mails and phone calls and dreaming of adventures to come.

  Contact the authors and see more photos and stories about this and other adventures at: www.timcopejourneys.com

  On arrival back in Melbourne, Tim is greeted by his mother at Tullamarine Airport.

  Tim (right) poses with Chris and Natalie on their wedding day, 7 December 2002.

  Acknowledgments

  ———

  It was a huge effort to turn our dream into a reality. Many people thought we were mad, and organising the journey seemed at times to be a constant uphill battle. Throughout this struggle, however, there were occasional rays of sunshine. These were our friends and family, the babushkas who chided us for being out in the cold, then dropped everything to look after us anyway, and the teachers in Russia, Finland and Australia, who saw value in our journey and gave students the opportunity to keep in contact with us. Moments of optimism also came from our generous sponsors.

  Finally, there were the people, including the staff at Penguin, who believed in our dream of writing a book and making a film, and who encouraged us to share our experience with others.

  To everyone else who supported us we extend our sincere thanks. We hope we have warranted your belief and your faith, not only in us, but in other young people as well.

  With kind regards

  Tim Cope and Chris Hatherly

  ———

  Thanks to our sponsors:

  Australian Geographic

  Mountain Designs

  Kodak

  Roman Sleeping Bags

  Maxwell Optical Industries (Nikon Australia)

  Everwarm Thermalwear

  Velocity Australia

  Snowgum

  Wayne Kotzur

  Outdoor Survival Australia

  Energizer

  Gear, Australia

  Adventure Designs

  Nomad Travel Equipment and Ortlieb

  White Mountain

  Rosebank

  Lonely Planet

  In Finland, Tim would like to thank:

  Halti Outdoor Equipment

  Kuru College of Forestry

  Ruovesi High School

  Ruovesi Library

  Ruovesi Medical Centre

  Hiking Travel Oy

  R-Cycles, Tampere

 
Anna Korpoo

  Liisa and Pekka Tyllilä

  In Bathurst, Chris would like to thank:

  Peter Rogers Real Estate

  Coleman Office Products

  Winning Edge Cycles

  Fletchers Fotographics

  ChemMart Plaza Pharmacy

  Surf, Gym & Street

  St. John’s Ambulance

  Special Thanks to:

  Our families: Jon, Natalie, Cameron, Anne and Andrew Cope

  Meredith, David, Alex and Mike Hatherly

  John and Alison Kearney

  Baba Galya, Mama Tatyana, Baba Sveta and all in Babushkina

  The Kleshnok family in Petrozavodsk

  The Chuginov family in Kvitok

  Dmetri Kakmi, for showing so much heart and perseverance

  with our manuscript.

  Eric Philips for his unflagging encouragement and advice.

  Rob Devling, friend, mentor and teacher

  And to all those individuals we have not named, but who helped, encouraged

  and supported us along the way.

  Plate Section

  From left to right: Tim, Natalie and Chris in a celebratory mood at Australian National University, Canberra, 1998.

  Tim and Bruce Cooper (right) during a winter trip in the Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland, 1999.

  Looking fresh faced, Tim on arrival in Petrozavodsk. The parts of the recumbent are in the large box to the left.

  Chris in a contemplative mood before the climb up Mount Elbrus (5642m) in the Caucasus.

  Tim, ‘post-frostbite’ in Babushkina.

  Chris packs up next to the loue shelter, first morning out of Petrozavodsk.

  Tim chops at a frozen lake with the axe after the first seriously cold night of the journey.

  Babushkina, desperately cold in the grip of winter. But a warm, embracing second home for Tim and Chris.

  Baba Sveta (left) and Baba Galya in Babushkina.

  Chris pulls a reluctant recumbent through deep snow somewhere between Babushkina and Kirov…

  …before settling down with Tim into a typical winter camp site in the forest.

  Chris at Luptyug, dominated by the onion-shaped cupolas of an Orthodox church, before the descent to the melting snow trenches.

  Tea and comfort with a silent man in Skokovo.

  ‘Where’s the road?’ Tim pauses during the two-day push through waist-deep snow and ice trenches between Luptyug and Klyuchee.

  The Russian babushka, oozing warmth, joviality and generosity.

  Chris tries to shrink into his Gore-tex coat as the temperature drops below zero. The freeze-melt-freeze process of spring made cycling extremely uncomfortable.

  Tim trundles through a typical Russian village somewhere between Kirov and Glazov, with dog in tow.

  Neil Cooper with ‘Bruce’s rainbow’ at Ben Rinnes, Scotland.

  Chris and Tim lost on the way to Ishimka.

  Tim alone.

  Bridge repairers in the abandoned kindergarten of Filipimovo. Chief engineer, second from left, Misha, third from left.

  The ‘Fat Man’ of Siberia.

  Gregory, the ‘eternal wanderer’.

  Siberian children flock from a nearby river to see the ‘couches on wheels’ and weird foreigners.

  The Jehovah’s Witness family in Kvitok; Andrei helps Chris with his smashed hub. Clara, top right, and Slavic, middle with glasses, look on.

  Tim enjoying the Siberian summer and a rare stretch of bitumen. Note the stick and notepad on the front of the bike, which Tim used to learn Russian words while riding.

  Chris attempts to fix his fatally wounded hub outside of Taishet on the way to Kvitok.

  The endless taiga forest.

  Chris on the BAM with the ‘rail-riding machine’.

  Tim adjusts the video camera for some filming on the move.

  The Baikal range.

  Tim feasting in Cevero Baikalsk before being treated to the ‘most luxuriant banya in memory’.

  Siberian paradise? Lake Shavlinskoye with the main Altai mountains beyond. Chris and Tim’s route continued up the river valley, beyond the lake and over the high ridge.

  Chris takes in the sweeping view of the Altai. The main range, clad with glaciers, beckons on the horizon.

  Altai Horsemen.

  ‘Praise Labour’ sign. These old Soviet slogans are a common sight along roadsides on approach to villages and former collective farms.

  ‘Before us the land panned out a sublime, silky blanket of green.’ The steppe of northern Mongolia greets Tim and Chris.

  Tim and Chris head into the Gobi desert, following the vague outlines of wheel tracks, a compass bearing and gut feeling.

  After inviting Chris and Tim into the ger for the night, the Mongolian babushka introduces them to the local cuisine.

  A young Mongolian boy outside his family’s ger watches Chris and Tim with curiosity.

  The Mongolian babushka and her extended family pose with Tim and Chris outside their ger home, before throwing mare’s milk into the air for good luck.

  Celebrating Chris’s twenty-second birthday in the Gobi with a block of chocolate.

  The toll of 9000 km, recent illness and pushing through the Gobi desert begins to show on Tim’s face.

  ‘Laboured steps, thighs and calves pumping.’ Chris pushes on through the Gobi desert, about 100 km from the Chinese border.

  Camping in the Gobi under the first tree in more than 1000 km. An appropriate setting to start reflecting as journey’s end draws near.

  Under arrest and closely watched by police, Tim talks to Chinese students in Houqi.

  Chinese arresting party in Houqi. Teacher/translator third from left.

  Tim, complete with thermal underwear turban, settles in for the night in a ditch, Zhangjiakou, China.

  Tiananmen Square, end of the journey, promise of new beginnings…

  Triumph!

  About the Authors

  TIM COPE was born in 1978. At sixteen he travelled to Nepal, and at eighteen was part of a GAP exchange program in England. After a short time studying Arts/Law at the Australian National University, he was accepted on a scholarship to participate in the prestigious International Wilderness Guide course in Finland and Russia. At the age of nineteen he qualified as a professional guide – the first Australian to do so. Since the recumbent bike journey, Tim has been part of a world-first expedition rowing the Yenisey River through Siberia to the Arctic Ocean, and been involved in documentary-making for National Geographic and ABC television. He is the author of On the Trail of Genghis Khan: An Epic Journey Through the Land of the Nomads, and he has written pieces for newspapers and magazines, and speaks regularly about his travels.

  In 2001 he was awarded the Young Australian Adventurer of the Year by the Australian Geographic Society for the Yenisey River journey, and was selected one of the top twenty-five athletes/explorers in the world under the age of twenty-five, by Outside magazine in the USA.

  CHRIS HATHERLY was born in 1978. When he was fifteen he spent a year in Germany as an exchange student. At eighteen, he rode a bike around Australia in eleven and a half months. He is currently studying psychology at Australian National University and plans further travels with his wife, Natalie. He has also written travel articles for Australian Geographic. Chris received the 1997 Australian Geographic Young Adventurer of the Year Award for his around Australia ride. Together with Tim Cope, he also received the 2000 Spirit of Adventure Award for the Siberian recumbent bike journey.

  Also by Tim Cope

  On the Trail of Genghis Khan

  ON THE TRAIL OF GENGHIS KHAN

  Guided by a Kazakh aphorism – ‘To understand the wolf, you must put the skin of a wolf on and look through its eyes’ – adventurer Tim Cope undertook a journey not successfully completed since the days of Genghis Khan: to travel by horseback across the entire length of the Eurasian steppe, from the ancient capital of Mongolia, to the Danube River in Hungary.