It’s a Long Drive From London to Moscow in a Family Van

More than two hours after reaching the Soviet border post at Torfyanovka, a mile or two across no man’s land from Finland, we began to wonder--and not for the first time--if it had been a good idea to take a family motor home holiday in Russia.

The five armed guards unscrewing panels and boring holes in the floor of our Bedford motor home were surly and suspicious, not even joking among themselves, let alone acknowledging me in friendly fashion.

They made me stand outside by the van while my wife Judi and the three teen-agers with us--Kim and David (both 18) and Matthew (14)--were kept inside the guardhouse, not permitted to talk with me.

An apparent gap between the floor and underbody of the van was of great interest to the soldiers. So were the contents of every cupboard and drawer, even the inside of the vehicle’s air cleaner. The rear panel of the refrigerator came off, grocery parcels were unwrapped, the portable toilet was scrutinized.

Skipping the Personal

It was a thorough search, yet by accident or design the plastic bags with our personal belongings taken into the guardhouse had been passed without inspection.

Only two cars had been in front of us when we approached the border. Both had long gone after much shorter searches than ours, but then a large mobile home presumably offers many more potential hiding places.

And as we were to discover during the next fortnight while driving across Russia into Moscow and out to Poland, motor homes are rare in the Soviet Union. We met no more than four in Russia, all with West German license plates, and fewer than a dozen Western automobiles.

Several other curious guards sauntered over to our vehicle for a look. One showed a little humor, at least. He asked me to open the tool box, pointing to his pistol and indicating that there might be another inside the box, smiling as he did so.

Abruptly, just as we were wondering if we could make our overnight stop of Leningrad 150 miles distant by nightfall, the guards indicated that we could go.

Around the Bend

So anxious were we to get away that I stalled the van, twice. Later, as we stopped around the bend for a cup of tea, we laughed, excitedly and nervously. Stage one of our mission was over; we were inside the Soviet Union at last.

Our 5,000-mile round trip from London required rather more planning than a casual continental tour. Lifting a corner of the Iron Curtain for a private and unescorted glimpse of communism at work is not the norm.

More than 95% of Westerners entering the U.S.S.R. on holiday do so on official Intourist-sanctioned group excursions. Individual visits are rare, made difficult by regulation and red tape, although not officially discouraged.

Kilometers Count

Intourist, the Soviet travel organization, told us we had to stay overnight on official camping grounds, could travel only on approved roads and not cover more than 500 kilometers (300 miles) in any one day. From Novgorod to Moscow is 503 kilometers. Could we drive it in one day, please? Nyet, said their London office, it is three kilometers too many--break the journey at Kalinin.

Visas and vehicle authority eventually followed. Vehicle insurance could be arranged at the border, we learned, but how comprehensive it would be, no one knew.

The British Automobile Assn., whose excellent Five Star insurance does not cover beyond Western Europe, could not suggest a British-based company. After numerous telephone calls we found one--Black Sea and Baltic General Insurance Co.--that would cover us behind the Iron Curtain for less than $90 U.S. for two weeks.

Intourist in London said we would be given road maps and petrol vouchers at the border crossing, but it was at Vyborg, about 45 miles into Russia, that they became available. A Cub Scout would have turned up his nose at the map. Entitled “Scheme of Automobile Tours,” it was a cartoon version that showed a single red line bisecting a green countryside on a scale of six inches to 600 miles.

Plague of Potholes

Among all else the map did not show was the condition of the red-ribbon highway. Nothing encountered before on back-country roads around the world had prepared us for the channels of corrugations and plague of potholes.

Rippling and bouncing away in front of us for mile after long mile, they played such havoc with the motor home’s suspension that both front shock absorbers were ruined in the first hour. From then on, 30 m.p.h. became our maximum speed for safety and comfort.

An intriguing facility we made use of at most rest areas beside the highway were the concrete or steel ramps over shallow pits that allow vehicles to be inspected from beneath. They were invariably in use.

Ladas Pass the Test

The large number of private vehicles on the roads was a revelation. Soviet-made Ladas, almost to a one, had seat covers and radios, even cassette players. By the speeds at which they whizzed past, they could obviously handle the rough roads very well.

Trucks were even more numerous--old, overloaded, battered and generally driven flat out. Many were marooned, hoods up or wheels off, at the roadside.

Traffic in Leningrad and Moscow and other large towns was at times as heavy as in any American city center. The buses everywhere were always full, with hitchhiking a common mode of transport.

Our British motor home was a real novelty. Crowds gathered wherever we parked, unembarrassed noses pressed to our windows. One middle-aged Russian who ventured inside marveled: “Our government would never allow us to have anything like this. It’s a dream.”

The 650-mile drive into Moscow from Leningrad was tedious at 30 m.p.h., but never uneventful. Horses and carts, workers in fields, old women selling roadside produce in pouring rain and the ever-present militia men were sources of constant interest.

Steady Surveillance

The militiamen, ensconced every 30 to 40 miles in concrete guardhouses, stopped us regularly. They would check our passports and papers and then hurry back inside, where we could see them hastily using the telephone, presumably keeping a check on our route and progress.

The larger Intourist-affiliated camping grounds at Leningrad, Kalinin, Moscow, Smolensk and Minsk were comfortable enough, but would still rate only fair in any auto guide. Novgorod’s would be “abysmal minus,” its kitchen foul and without gas, its toilets capable of turning up the nose of a camel driver.

We had a nocturnal visit there from a self-proclaimed “Russian businessman.” He wanted to buy jeans, cigarettes, shoes, chewing gum, anything Western. His comrade behind him in the dark put us off. We had heard stories of KGB plants, even for small fry like us.

Being self-contained tourists rather than cattle in a coach, we were able to enter ordinary Russian stores and observe citizens in the raw. A dress shirt costs 32 rubles (U.S. $48), thin jeans 100 rubles (U.S. $150), potatoes and tomatoes 3 rubles (U.S. $4.50) a bucketful.

City Versus Country

Moscow shops were much better stocked, yet prices still high for anything that could be deemed a luxury. There seemed a wide disparity in living standards between city and country life, although rural folks, especially the women, were more polite and warm.

The long haul out to the Polish border was something of an anti-climax. We had our only run-in with the militia on that last stretch to the border. A guard with a modern radar gun decided we had been exceeding the speed limit for a heavy truck. In vain we tried to explain that we were classed as a car, that because of our suspension worries we dared not drive at the 72 kilometers per hour (45 m.p.h.) he claimed (in big, laborious hand-printing), and eventually--groveling now--that we were very sorry and would not let it happen again.

He did not fine us on the spot; rather, we had to pay the $15 fine two hours later to the border guards to whom he must have reported our transgression by telephone.

Sunnier Poland

Poland was a happier, brighter place after Russia. Everything was on a smaller scale and citizens and authorities much friendlier. The roads were better, too, and we could bowl along at 50 m.p.h. in some comfort.

One must beware, though, of buying petrol without official coupons. We did so at first in ignorance, paying three times the proper price.

The final barrier at the hem of the Iron Curtain was Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin. We received only a cursory check, our visas were taken and we were waved on to freedom.

There was only one thing to do--find a McDonald’s, order Big Macs, large fries and thick shakes.

As we joined the queue of bored West Berlin teen-agers, the neon signs, garish displays and automated cash registers aroused strange feelings of culture shock.

“You know, Dad, if you knew no different, the West would seem a pretty funny place,” said 14-year-old Matthew. “I wonder what a Russian family would make of this?”

My wife smiled. Communing with communism, our way, had been worthwhile after all.

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Most larger rental companies in Britain do not permit their vehicles behind the Iron Curtain. It is preferable to take a driver-owned vehicle bought in Britain or Europe and sell it later. In Britain, usual choices range from a two- or four-berth Volkswagen Kombi Campervan to six-berth coach-built Bedford or Ford motor homes or the like.

Although at 18 feet long the Bedford or Ford models are smaller than many American RVs, they have toilet, shower, refrigerator, central heating, electric/gas stove, etc.

Secondhand prices range from 2,000 (U.S. $3,000) to 7,000 (U.S. $10,500) for suitable secondhand vehicles. New, they cost 8,000 (U.S. $12,000) to 16,000 (U.S. $24,000), though even larger coach-built homes are available up to 30,000 (U.S. $45,000). Many companies operate buy-back schemes, generally at 60% of purchase price, for new and second-hand vehicles.

Service, Hackney Style

Our motor home was from Campervan Advisory Service, 273 Wick Road, Hackney, London E9 (telephone 01-533 2923), which will also buy new or secondhand on behalf of clients. By negotiation, it will allow rental vehicles into the Soviet Union. Be sure to take vehicle ownership papers or certified copies with you, as communist border guards may refuse vehicle entry without them.

Camping ground charges: 3.50 rubles (U.S. $4.75) per person for vehicle site; 4 rubles (U.S. $6) per person in a chalet in Russia. Varying prices, but cheaper, in Poland.

Fuel coupons: from Intourist hotels inside Russia, about U.S. $6 for 10 liters; at Polorbis offices inside and outside Poland.

Insurance: British AA Five Star recommended for Western Europe; Black Sea and Baltic General Insurance Co. (63 Fenchurch St., London EC3) will provide comprehensive coverage for communist countries; also available from Ingosstrakh offices at the Soviet border and Polorbis offices inside and outside Poland.

Food: Best to stock up ahead, but basic supplies can be obtained in Russia (good supplies in Poland). Restaurant meals reasonable and cheap in Russia, though service and selection vary greatly. Better choice and service in Poland, prices even cheaper.

Camping gas: unavailable in Russia; the only refillable tank services are in Sweden, Finland and Poland.