It took five hours to ride from St Petersburg to the Estonian border, our journey was delayed because of poor roads, worn thin from the harsh winters and constant pounding of heavy goods vehicles transiting east and west, from Europe to mainland Russia.

The nearer we got to the border, the more frequent the army and police checks were until, finally, to our relief we saw a large queue of vehicles, which confirmed that we had finally reached the border crossing. Groups of young men positioned every few meters along the road side beckoned us to pull over. They where selling everything from insurance to black market currency. It was ironic that we had travelled over 1000 miles in Russia without bike insurance, or even knowing how to obtain it, but here on the Russian side of the border there were at least a dozen small booths selling vehicle insurance, not for Russia, but Estonia. Ignoring the hard-sell, we rode straight to the front of the queue passing at least thirty lorries and over 100 cars and just hoped that we would not upset those drivers who had obviously been waiting patiently in the intense heat for many hours. The border guards inspected our documents and waved us on to the customs sections where the formalities took another hour. Eventually, we were waved through for the short, 100 metres, ride across no mans land to the Estonian side of the border. We kicked the bikes into gear and advanced slowly, half expecting to be halted in our tracks by the Russian officials, who were watching us closely. Finally they disappeared out of sight in our rear view mirrors. We felt elated and our morale had never been higher. I could see via Monika's broad grin that she felt the same as me, during the short wait it was a time for reflection, a sense of achievement and a strange feeling that we had survived but survived what? Apart from one isolated case in St Petersburg where a drunken mobster had chanced his arm, everybody else had been kind to us and the reality was we had not had experienced any problems at all. It was only ourselves really, struggling to come to terms with the different culture. This was understandable because of all the negative stories we had heard in Scandinavia, prior to entering Russia. Also, from the age of sixteen when I first joined the Navy, the Russians were indeed the enemy, How does one switch off after 24 years of mental conditioning? There would still be time to open our minds, eyes and hearts to the old Russian republics as Belarus “Bela – Russia” for some, still governed by the Europe’s last dictator, was only 8 days away, the date of entry stamped on our Visa. We joined the queue to clear Estonian customs, and only then that it dawned on us how little we new about Estonia, or indeed about any of the Baltic states. Neither of us had really researched this stage of our travels in any detail, seeing it as no more than a transit route and a means of increasing the country count in our attempt to break two Guinness World Records. Embarrassingly neither of us could recall many of the capital cities of the Balltic states.

A group of young Estonian children, just inside the Russian / Estonian border
 

We entered Estonia and headed west towards Tallinn, our destination only having been decided just five minutes earlier. The road to Tallinn ran parallel to the coast which was just half a mile to the north and was excellent compared to what we had experienced in the previous month. This was heaven, this was freedom! No longer were we expecting to see police or army road blocks at every junction; no more waiting for the roads to deteriorate into impassable obstacle courses. For the first time in what seemed like ages, we opened the bikes up and accelerated to eighty miles an hour, cruising passed slow moving traffic, Monika passing on the outside and me by the near, until eventually, in the distance, we saw a large barn converted into a restaurant. How inviting it looked after all the road-side food we had been eating in Russia! They invariably included two standard choices: tomato salad and meat soup. We pulled up outside the restaurant. The noise from our bikes attracted the restaurant staff who, all dressed in period clothing and with the biggest smiles we had seen in weeks, invited us in. We had a few beers and enquired about camping as time was now pushing on and they recommended the “The Black Cat Campsite” situated only 15 kilometres to the west of the Tallinn and after a few souvenir pictures we set off for the short ride to the campsite.

The Blackcat campsite situated on the southern side of the main highway to Tallinn was set in a small forest. The site comprised many wooden chalets and the facilities included a bar, sauna and hot showers. We set up the tent and were treated to a nice meal by the owners who insisted we grabbed a shower before eating. It wasn’t until we entered the shower room that we realised with a laugh how dirty we were from the diesel air and dusty roads, It’s a part of the course for life on the road -- the longer you are travelling, the less conscious or concerned you become about your outward appearance until eventually its no longer an issue.

The Black Cat camping Site, near to Tallinn


The following morning we left the tents and our equipment at the campsite, having made up our minds to have a couple of hours looking around the city. It was not an easy decision to make as we felt secure and comfortable in the surroundings of the campsite and if it feels safe, why move? But we had heard that Tallinn was worth the effort so we headed west for the short journey into the city. Neither of us had the energy or enthusiasm for trekking around town, this was really a mission out of duty. We expected to find Tallinn another of the former soviet bloc townships, predictably influenced by the architecture of the former soviet union, a grey mixture of large apartment blocks and dull shopping stores which we had already seen a thousand times in the previous weeks. But as we approached we could see large spires ascending from the distant horizon and the nearer we got to city centre, it became clear that Tallinn was to be something special. We pulled up at the entrance of the old city, protected and enclosed by a large medieval castle wall. A young girl dressed in period clothing curtsied and beckoned us in to the old city via the large entrance which was surmounted by large stone turrets and an imposing archway. We entered the old city and immediately came upon a labyrinth of narrow, cobbled streets from where olde-worlde buildings and lanes twisted and turned in every direction. Flower and souvenir stalls lined every corner and, in the distance, we could hear the sound of a violinist and an accordeon coming from the direction of the town square, which today had been given over to the market sellers. In the heart of this medieval fortification we found an attractive bar, curiously named the “Bar With No Name”  We took our seats to watch the world, or at least this Estonian piece of it, drift idly by.

From no where, and spoken in excellent English, I heard :

“What will the score be tomorrow? Do you think we will win?” “Score, I don’t follow what do you mean?”
“England v Brazil -- its on tomorrow”

The world cup ..... Had I really forgotten about the world cup? Apparently I had! Sat only a few tables away was a solidly-built gentleman, dressed in a pin-striped shirt and brogues.  He was unmistakably English.

“Hi!  My name is Tom. Please come and join us”.

It had been six long weeks since I last spoke to an English person, and how it felt good to be doing so again. At last I could have a conversation without having to strain to decipher broken English spoken by well-intentioned Russians. You don’t realise how much you miss your mother tongue until you get an opportunity to speak it again after a long lapse.

British expatriates in the 'Bar with No Name' in Tallinn    

                                                                                                        The 'Bar with No Name'

Tom invited us to have a beer and we accepted, As the hours passed, we were joined by more and more ex-pats -- a rich mixture of financial advisers, bar-owners and Tom, a scrap-metal merchant who had made a small fortune from selling scrapped soviet vehicles. Eventually there were at least ten of us and as each new one arrived they would say “What do
you think about our Tallinn, Special isn’t it”? One of the last to join our group was Michael, slim build and slightly trendy in appearance. Apologising for being late, Michael explained that he had just heard we were in town, and wanted to come over and say hello. He asked where we had parked our bikes. I told him that we had left them just around the corner. He warned us about the risk of bike theft, advising that they were unlikely to survive the night if we left them there. Michael urged us to move the bikes quickly his Restaurant where parking was more secure. It then dawned on us that we had left all our equipment and tent fourteen kilometres away and, there was no way we wanted to ride our bikes so late in the day. To our relief, Michael said “ Look I have an apartment in the city and my home is your home and you can stay as long as you like.” And so it was agreed that our equipment would stay put until the following day and we would crash at Michaels. We moved our bikes to the rear of Michael’s restaurant, which to our relief was protected by large iron gates and completely enclosed. Michael insisted we have a cursory look around “Pegasus” his “Baby” and the name of his Restaurant. Situated only a few meters within the confines of the city perimeter walls, Pegasus stands out from the historic surroundings as the exterior has large rectangular windows to the front and to the side. At the rear of the building, circular windows are built into the wall from ground level to the ceiling at a 45 degree angle. This would be unique in any city in the world never mind Tallinn. The interior was clinical but modern and, like most exclusive restaurants, the staff seemed to outnumber the number of diners.  It was a touch of real class.  Michael explained that he used to be a chef and a motorbike courier in the city of London and came to Tallinn on holiday,  liked it so much he never went back!

We returned to a 'Bar With No Name' just in time for a tour of the old city. During the evening Michael insisted Monika and I join him as his guests for a meal at Pegasus the following evening and after explaining our best tucker had been long-since packed away and left behind in England, he said it didn’t matter, and so we accepted.

The following day we collected our personal belongings from the Black cat and temporarily moved into Michael’s apartment. We did the site-seeing tour which was intended the day previous and met up with Michael in the restaurant. Our dinner companions were Tim, the Defence Attaché from the nearby British Embassy and his lovely wife Gill, and a Radio DJ who was just in the process of buying his own Radio Station together with two Investment bankers, and Michael. Tim was extremely interested in the logistics of arranging a world tour by motorbike and was insistent he would like to help if ever called upon. We got on extremely well, enjoying the usual services banter one would expect between the armed services -- Tim being a Lt Colonel in the Army and my goodself being ex-Royal Navy. Gill was insistent that she had a ride on my bike, an aspiration which which posed a number of logistic problems -- not least because I was by then possibly over the limit; and Tim and Gill were going on Holiday at six in the morning.  It was even more sensibly decided, later, that the bike tour should be postponed until our next visit to Tallinn in three years time.

  Michael, the English proprietor of the 'Pegasus' restaurant,  in Tallinn

In total, we spent four days in Tallinn, three of them as Michael's guests.  It was a real shame to have to leave but our Transit Visa for Belarus was only four days away and we still had Latvia and Lithuania to cross. After packing our bikes we rode to Michael's restaurant to say our final goodbye and, after a few pictures, he put his arms around us, wished us good luck and said (like he had said a thousand time before to departing guests) “Tallinn is Special, and it must remain our secret, we wouldn’t want it spoilt with an influx of tourists would we?”

And with a wink and a hug he waved us on our way .......................