Attention! ATTENTION!

Hitch-hiking isn’t freeloading!

Travelling around the world independenly will give you unforgettable experience. Ordinary folks in Siberia, near Moscow, in Afghanistan, in Europe – will be giving you free lifts and share their food and homes with you.

Remember their kindness and cherish the feeling of brotherhood!

And when we ourselves are driving our own cars; when we’re in our own warm flats, or in the streets of our city, our own big city – and when we see an opportunity to give someone a lift; to invite someone to our home; to feed someone we don’t know; when we can give someone a present, or pay for someone – let’s do it with joy. For traveling free doesn’t mean being a freeloader; it means living a life; it is an opportunity to find, feel, and share the feeling of brotherhood of all humanity!

Be kinder, people!

TRAIN-HITCHING

Railways and trains appeared in the Russian Empire (and the rest of the world) much earlier than paved roads and motor transport. Free railway travellers started to explore Russia in the first half of the 1800s. Rail transport use peaked late in the 20th century.

Most big cities in Russia and elsewhere in ex-USSR are inter-connected by railways whose total length is about 140,000km.

Previous editions of this book described various methods of travelling in long-distance and suburban trains (this distinction is very clearly kept and very obvious in Russia). Some of those involved telling lies and some others were difficult to perform.

Now, past the turn of the 21st century, they are no longer relevant. We have put the ‘hungry years’ behind us and in most cases it is of course easier to just buy the ticket. Besides, the so-called ‘war on terrorism’ (Russia has been waging one, of sorts) often hinders travelling in locomotives; ticket inspectors become an increasingly common sight in suburban trains (in contrast with the 1990s when they were both rare and extremely susceptible to bribes, or just cared nothing for the ‘hares,’ i.e. ticketless passengers); new highways appear and run parallel with the railways, tempting more and more penniless travellers to hitch-hike.

Occasionally, nevertheless, you can find yourself in need of a free ride on a train. It can happen in summer when the tickets are sold out and you need to go now; or in winter, when you have neither warm clothes for hitch-hiking nor (for whatever reason) cash to pay the fare; and so on. Well, these are just the cases when you’ll need the information from this chapter.

First, keep it in mind that direct passenger connections from point A to point B are not the only option! You might need to switch trains, using all kinds of them (and there are plenty in Russia). Apart from the regular long-distance poyezd (lit. ‘train’) and suburban elektrichka (the ubiquitous Russian misnomer, because suburban trains can run on electricity or on diesel), you may find yourself riding such weirdly designated ones as the gruzo-passazhirsky (freight-and-passenger), pochtovo-bagazhny (mail-and-luggage), khozyaystvenny (service), rabochy (workers’, for commuting employees only), gruzovoy (that’s the freight train), and other kinds of trains; you might even get permission from the locomotive driver to join him inside the cab unit. Of course, all that will move you slower than a direct train with no stopovers.

We’ll begin our review of railway-hitching by talking about locomotive-hopping.

LOCOMOTIVE-HOPPING

Have you ever ridden inside a freight train’s locomotive? No, you don’t need to enlist in a railway transport college and become a locomotive driver to do that. We call this second-order hitch-hiking – and people still do it, travellers and locals in remote areas likewise, where neither highways nor suburban train networks are present. I’ve seen six and even seven passengers enter (with the driver's permission) the rear cab-unit on the famous BAM (Baikal-Amur Railway), and the driver said that was not the limit at all.

It is commonly thought that they won’t let you in the locomotive because it is prohibited. Well, if you try to ask your way into a locomotive at a major terminal in Moscow such as the Kursky station, you will be ever sure of that. They’ll think you’re a Chechen terrorist, or some other kind of infringer, and probably not allowed to ride in the cab. Cities with over-a-million population, as well as electrified railways connecting them, can hardly be called suitable for rail-hitching.

Obviously, nobody with any wisdom will stand on the track trying to stop a moving freight train (although, in some situations, they will in fact stop). The real thing to do is wait for a suitable locomotive at a freight station and negotiate with the driver while he’s waiting. Not all stations are good; it must be a large one, where, as railway workers say, locomotive decoupling occurs (or locomotive crews switch shifts).

So, you’re at a freight station, where freight trains in your direction are formed. Remember! Freight stations can be located somewhere far away from the passenger station! You can ask the location of the freight station from railway personnel.

If, at the moment, no trains are ready to start in your direction, find an assistant station master on duty (or a rail traffic dispatcher) – any worker will tell you how to find him. The station master will usually sit beside a large control panel in a room with the «ПОСТОРОННИМ ВХОД ВОСПРЕЩЁН!» (‘Authorised personnel only!’) sign. Knock on the door and enter.

‘ Zdravstvuyte! Could you tell me when the next train to Lopcha departs?’

Freight traffic in the required direction may vary in intensity – from one train per day to dozens. Meanwhile, as you wait for your train, you can find the canteen (present on every big station) and have a cheap and tasty meal. Usually they are open round the clock. Smaller stations don’t have canteens, but assistant station-master on duty will have an electric stove; ask permission to boil some water for tea, tell him about your adventurers’ nature, and try to make friends with the railway workers – it may help you board the locomotive. And keep your eye on the process of train-forming.

There’s a chance, especially at bigger stations, that you are discovered by a guard, who may try to stop your enterprise in its tracks and kick you out. Don’t run away, or he will think you’re a terrorist or a rail thief. Carry your passport and, better yet, some important-looking certificate saying that you’re not just any man.

If you look like a traveller, have a backpack, and, in general, are different from local bums – that will help. But it’s still all right if you don’t have overalls, certificates, whatever – what matters is that you behave in a calm, confident manner.

When you see a locomotive has already been coupled to your train, or a single locomotive (moving as a reserve one) is waiting for the start signal – run to it quickly. In the locomotive, the driver is on the right-hand side, and the driver mate is on the left-hand side. Talk to the driver.

‘Good evening! Could you give us a lift to Urusha? We’re travellers, going to such-and-such place…’ – thus you describe your situation.

If the driver says, ‘No, we’re not allowed to give lifts,’ try to convince him anyway. Remember, hitching on rails is possible! Your chances to get a lift depend on where you are: the more ‘civilised’ the station is, the smaller your chance to sneak into the locomotive, and vice versa. Passenger train drivers are less likely to agree than freight train drivers.

When the deal is struck, get through the door to the rear section of the locomotive quickly (unless you were explicitly invited into the front unit).

In the rear cab there are two (sometimes three) seats, often a guard, and, sometimes, other passengers.

While in the rear cab, keep low profile and don’t touch any levers. You can sleep on the floor, only spread your mattress first. A couple of times every hour, the driver mate will enter the rear cab, click some switches, and look at some indicators. Try to make friends with him. You may be invited to the front cab – accept and make friends with the driver as well. Be careful walking from the rear cab to the front! Don’t do it without need, it is dangerous – you may accidentally touch some device connected to 27,000 volts or brush a rotating fan in the dimly lit place.

Freight trains can travel thousands of kilometres, but the crew changes every four or five hours (250 to 350km or so), that is, at every big station. You need to negotiate with the new crew separately (unless the previous driver sends the word to the next one beforehand).

If the train is going in the right direction but the driver refuses to let you in the locomotive, ask permission to ride in an empty carriage. In winter time, avoid travelling in cold, wind-blown carriages, or you can die freezing! Even in summer it can get chilly in open carriages, so it’s a good idea to have some PE wrap for additional protection.

When you reach the place where the locomotive or its crew is changing, repeat the routine of asking for a ride in the locomotive. If the new crew decline, try getting into a freight carriage again, or better yet, find the assistant station-master on duty and inquire for the next train to pass in your direction.

Travelling in locomotives, you can advance five to six hundred kilometres per day. If you are also comfortable riding inside the carriages, you can move even faster. Your performance, however, will depend on such factors as your experience, persistence, behaviour, and the degree of Checheno-phobia (terroristo-phobia) in the region. On some stations, railway personnel are so scared by the media that they think everyone wishing to travel in a locomotive is a terrorist. Anyway, regular hitch-hiking is almost always faster, whereas locomotive-hopping is a feature of travelling in remote areas.

In some foreign places, such as the island Java in Indonesia, locomotive-riding is not just possible but also highly interesting; in some other countries, such as European, it is not a common practice. Ask among sages and find an old hand in these matters.

PASSENGER TRAINS

In the earlier editions of this book, we recommended an assortment of techniques to sneak into a passenger train such as: buy a ticket to the next station (and not get off), climb on the roof, secretly infiltrate the luggage box, or the bed linen box, or the coal box, and some others. Fortunately, science has made progress in recent decades, and the 21st century has eliminated the need for such perversions.

A sage, with neither a ticket nor the need to tell any lies, can relax on a bunk bed inside the carriage. And somebody else, possessing neither tickets nor wisdom, will while away time on the roof of that same carriage, suffering from having no bed, being unfed, and the contact line looming overhead.

The easier place to hop on a passenger train is any bigger station where the train stops for at least fifteen minutes. You must know well which station you want to go to.

Don’t expect to cross all Russia at first attempt. Think advancing some 300km and reaching at least the next big station where trains make long stopovers (making you able to change trains, in case you have failed to establish friendly relations with superintendents in the first one, or in case your train continues in another direction).

So…

There is a trainmaster in every train. Without his leave, carriage superintendents will probably not let you in. Ask which carriage the trainmaster is in (usually somewhere close to the middle) and run to it:

‘Good afternoon! Who is the trainmaster?’

‘I am. What do you want?’

‘Please, let us ride this train to Tynda at least. We’re travellers, going home to Moscow from Magadan, and we have no tickets (or: no money) for such-and such reason.’

Important! Ask first, then explain your motives. This is essential, no matter what you are asking for.

‘Please, give us a lift, we’re travellers, going from there to there.’

‘Let us in for a night, because this and that.’

If you get a refusal after saying your first words, they will still have an opportunity to listen to the rest of the story and change their opinion.

‘Well generally we don’t give lifts, but since you guys are travellers, get in.’

Or:

‘Generally I don't let strangers in my house, but if you have no other place to go, then it’s okay.’

And if you start by going on about yourself and where you came from, marking time, and then suddenly ask for something and get a refusal – that’s it, you have nothing left to say and must just go away.

You may offer to do some cleaning job in the carriage, like wiping the floor, or just anything useful, which superintendents themselves don’t always get round to.

While on the train, make friends with the superintendents, the police escort, and other officials. If they decide to get you off the train (believing, for example, in the imminent coming of inspectors) – get off calmly and don’t try to camp inside the carriage to stay longer than you’re allowed to.

If the trainmaster can’t see how wise you are, go and ask the locomotive driver.

Remember one thing! You must look different from both the locals and the bums who are after the same thing as you (trying to reach some locality free of charge). You must incite curiosity in the train personnel, make them interested and eager to chat with you – then, in many cases, you will succeed.

For the railway-travelling (just as for all other kinds of travelling), it’s very useful to have Traveller’s Credentials.

Before setting out somewhere far, print, or ask your friends to print, using a computer, or even a typewriter, a paper saying that such-and-such person is on such-and-such route, and everyone gotta help him on the road, etc. Have your photograph glued to this piece of paper, stamp it with any stamp (your employing company, your city’s mayor’s office, your university, your elementary school), there, you have your Traveller’s Credentials. Regard this example (translated for humour value).

Novgorod Hitch-Hiking Association

172600 9 Peace St., Novgorod

phone and fax [phone]

A LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION

Holder of this letter, Artur Afanas’yevich Ababakov, participates in the international expedition, ‘Across Russia’s Forests And Train Stations,’ organised by NHHA (Novgorod Hitch-Hiking Association).

The route of the expedition features Veliky Novgorod, Chudovo, Malaya Vishera, Tikhvin, Lodeynoe Pole, Olonets, Chimkent, and Moscow. The purpose of the expedition is exploring history and current state of train stations, fields, rivers, and roads of Northeastern Russia.

All transport personnel, police, and local authorities are requested to assist the participant of the expedition.

signature, stamp, date

Well-made Traveller’s Credentials will come in handy for more than just locomotive- or train-hopping; it might open doors to ‘frontier zones’ (those actually cover a large portion of Russian territory), national parks, and other restricted-access areas – and maybe help fend off the pesky police or other kinds of officials.

In ‘civilised’ areas, you won’t be picked up by trains that easily, but there are so many more trains there that you will actually travel faster. For example, only two or three trains a day pass the Baikal-Amur Railway (on average), but on the Trans-Siberian Railway inter-train intervals average at one hour or even less; that will let you travel faster.

Some local trains in Siberia have the ‘bum carriage’ (bich-vagon; bich is the local term for a bum). It is an open platform or a freight carriage used by local people such as fishermen, drunkards, and penniless travellers. But it can be only used in summer: winter’s too cold!

It can be quite taxing to use trains in Central Russia – you’ll have to run from one train to another all the time. Of course, if there’s money in your purse and tickets in the ticket office, it is easier to pay your fare and relax. And then, if you don’t want travel in a ‘civilised’ manner but want to move fast and enjoy it, simply hitch-hiking is less bothersome.

WATERCRAFT-HITCHING

Railways and motor roads cover a mere quarter of Russia’s territory. To get to the other three quarters, people use air transport, which is quite expensive and unexciting. As for shipped cargo, it tends to go by waterways (or by winter roads, when it’s winter). To get yourself somewhere difficult to access (in summer), we use what we call ‘hydrostop’ (pronounced gid-ross-top, compare with ‘autostop’), which means getting free lifts from ships and boats. We also call it third-order hitch-hiking.

Watercraft-hitching takes its roots deep in history. Over 2,500 years ago, biblical prophet Jonah negotiated with the captain and tried to sail to Tarshish. However, a storm broke out, and the unlucky ‘hydrostopper’ was thrown overboard and swallowed by a big fish. He spent three days in the stomach of that fish and returned home, technically by fish-hitching.

Another well-known (and luckier) traveller and writer Lennart Meri undertook more than one watercraft-hitching trip in the 1970s (AD, not BC). He managed to hitch lifts from ships navigating the Northern Sea Route, among others, and wrote books about it. In the 1990s, Meri became President of Estonia and quit boat-hopping.

CARGO SHIPS

Coal, petrol, salt, cement, cars, and other substances for northern inhabited localities are delivered in summer by sea and rivers, and travellers can deliver themselves there in the same way. Before setting out ‘there,’ be sure to find out: 1) where you are starting from; 2) when navigation opens and closes; 3) how regular the traffic is; and 4) how long your trip will take.

What matters most is to find your port of embarkation. As a rule, it will be one of those points where riverways and maritime routes meet railways or motor roads (for settlements on the Arctic shore: Murmansk, Arkhangel’sk, Vanino, Nakhodka, Vladivostok… for northward travel down rivers: Pechora, Novosibirsk, Lesosibirsk, Ust’-Kut, Yakutsk…).

Going back home is much easier: just find any ship headed to ‘Big Land’ (that’s literally what mainland is called in such places) and try to get on it; you will rarely have a choice.

The biggest sea ports are navigable all year round even in northern Russia (Dudinka, Murmansk, Magadan…). Some other ports are navigable only in summer. From July to September, practically all river and sea ports are navigable.

There are never any schedules for cargo boats – there’s average heaviness of boat traffic. For example, from Magadan to ‘Big Land’ (Vladivostok, Nakhodka, Vanino…) it’s one to three boats a week. From Nakhodka to Kamchatka it’s only one a week; to Pevek it’s one a month. From Murmansk there’s one or two a month to Dudinka, and one or two a year (with some luck) to Khatanga (the Taimyr Peninsula). Find out the traffic situation before you leave home, to avoid spending months waiting in a port.

Sea ships traverse 300 to 500km per day. River ships are slower at 100 to 300km, or less.

To travel on a cargo boat, you need to a) know there is a vessel; b) sneak into the port and then aboard; c) negotiate with the captain; d) keep off boredom. So:

There’s a controller’s office in every port, and they will tell you there where the ships the soonest to set sail are headed. There is a nuance. If the boat is still being unloaded, it can be impossible to tell where it will be headed next (Chukotka, Vladivostok, or San Francisco). But when the loading begins – you can be sure that the destination has been settled. It means you will have to visit the controller’s office regularly, several times a day maybe, until they point out the boat headed to where you are headed.

Smaller ports have no controller’s offices, so you must keep a steady eye on what’s going on! Locals can provide you with clues as to possible times of arrival.

Loading and unloading can last for hours, or days. Don’t miss your boat!

When such one is identified, sneak into the port. Many of them are considered frontier areas and are guarded. If so, you can 1) cajole a security guard to let you in; 2) find a hole in the fence (every long fence has holes; for the location of the hole, ask the security guard or dockers; 3) apply for a permit from a permission office. Some ports are unguarded.

If it’s a domestic route, only the captain decides if you are worth a lift. There is always a sailor on duty, but he has no authority; insist on meeting with the captain.

Letting people on board of cargo boats is not prohibited in Russia. Shipping agents, for example, use such methods (but they have to pay a fare). Of course, it’s unthinkable that human passengers could actually damage a steamer. For a boat able to carry 3,000 tonnes of cargo, an extra hundred kilograms is nothing at all, and the biggest boats can transport 50,000 tonnes, 600,000 times the weight of a man; obviously, transporting people on such boats shouldn’t cost a copeck.

But we passengers must eat, so either they will ask you for a certain sum of money for your food, or you can buy the food (lots of it) yourself. If you don’t have much cash, offer your help – your menial (and unpaid) labour might come in very handy on board. So, when you go to the captain’s, do it with confidence.

The only real reason they can refuse is too many people aboard. And this is not about their collective mass or volume; it is about the availability of emergency gear. On long voyages, this factor puts a serious limit on passenger-carrying capacity, whereas, say, on a barge it isn’t a factor at all.

Once on board – rejoice. It is good if you have some kind of work, but no work can take all your time. Sleep, read, write letters, eat well (to compensate for the rest of your trip). And don’t forget to return home before the navigation season terminates!

Andrey and I spent six days floating on a barge from Yakutsk to Khandyga (that’s more then 600km). There was no charge, and we had bought our own food before embarking. The only real complication in that trip was a KamAZ (a kind of big Russian lorry) loaded with 140 boxes of VODKA. All the crew and some of the passengers often indulged in hard drinking.

Trying to return home from Magadan, we got a lift on a cargo boat headed to Vanino. The search and the wait took a total of four days, and the voyage itself lasted just three, and another full day was spent in the Vanina Bay waiting for the berth to free up. There was no fare, but we had paid for our food. For details, read our book Hitch-hiking All over Russia (like the other stuff, only in Russian).

Sergey Lekay and Ol’ga Smirnova spent 28 days on a boat navigating from Kisangani to Kinshasa (Congo–Zaire). Traveller Anton Zinchenko from Moscow made the same trip, but in the opposite direction.

There are even examples of intercontinental ship-hitching. Aleksey Vorov (PASL) and his companion Mikhail Dutkevich completed their hitch-hiking world tour in 1993 by sailing across the Atlantic from Buenos Aires (Argentina) to Europe; the voyage lasted two weeks.

Well-known traveller Vladimir Nesin, who always walks barefooted, accomplished more than one such trip; for example, he crossed the Pacific from New Zealand to the USA. But it gets more difficult every year!

Unfortunately, little research has been made into free-of-charge international voyages. Some believe a ‘seaman’s passport’ (a Soviet-era relic, and probably phased out by the time you read this) can be of help. Some people talk about the possibility of getting a lift on a yacht. In general, however, there were so few intercontinental voyages in our practice that they shouldn’t be counted on. While the ship is resting, or being loaded, you must get permission from the captain, the port agent, the owner (who is on the opposite side of the ocean), and you need to have the visa of the country of your destination. You’ll hardly be able to get all that and agree with everyone on everything. It is easier and faster to earn the money to pay for a regular flight than to spend time kicking your heels in remote ports searching for overseas-bound ships, unlikely to let you on board anyway.

REGULAR PASSENGER SHIPS

There is regular passenger service along big rivers and across big lakes in Russia. Passenger ships operate to a schedule. However, after the end of Soviet era, traffic is increasingly light and there are fewer operations every year, with actually a mere handful left. Only the great Siberian rivers such as the Ob’, Irtysh, Lena, Yenisey, or Angara, still have passenger operations, but even these become fewer every year.

A free traveller who wants to board one of those not-so-numerous ships can buy a ticket and support the withering industry. Or, if you’re pressed for money, don’t hesitate to board and talk with the captain, revealing your traveller’s nature. Prove it by your ‘Traveller’s Credentials’ if you have one. The captain will likely let you on board.

There used to be ocean-going ships regularly moving people, for example, from Vladivostok to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, but it’s been years since they were all cancelled. Without much thought, trans-ocean passengers switched to cargo ships, cramming their bodies not just into every cabin and sick-bay available, but into all the space, almost including the latrines. Most of such passengers recompense the captain in some way or other, but a free traveller can talk the captain into letting him travel free of charge. Food is usually supplied and you can pay for it (not much), or offer to do some kind of work.

There are no international passenger services across the world’s oceans and seas. It’s impossible to get to America, Brazil, India, or Tahiti by a regular passenger ship. There are only rare cruise liners for the bourgeois types (but it’s more expensive than flying, and no one ever researched the getting-in problem).

LIFE SUPPORT

If, after a fortnight of rambling around in cars, suburban trains, freight trains, and suchlike means of transportation, you feel hungry, cold, and dirty, and end up going home with firm resolve to eat, sleep, wash, and never be a bum again – then you haven’t been travelling by science, you have been bumming around.

Free travelling science is radically different from bumming science.

When you travel by science, your bodily health stays with you, you eat properly, and bathe and sleep when you wish. Bums don’t stick to healthy life-styles, eat what they can, wash when there’s an opportunity, and sleep until they get kicked out.

When you travel by science, you bring joy to those who meet you. When you bum around, all you have to offer is a desire to get rid of you. Travelling scientists achieve happiness. Bums don’t succeed.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-28