My Last Ride Across Ukraine, via Moldova & Transnistria

In 2017 I cycled to Armenia and back to Germany. The return leg turned out to be my final visit to Ukraine. En route I passed through Transnistria, an experience that now sharpens my sense of why Ukraine needs support more than ever. That conviction underpins my new fundraising ride: Ride for Ukraine, described at the end of this article.

The final leg of an adventure, arriving in Odesa

The summer of 2017 had been one of adventure, having been to Armenia by a combination of cycling and sailing across the Black Sea. My arrival in Chornomorsk signalled the final act of this round trip, the last leg of circa 2000km pedalling back to my home in Germany.

It was always evident that every odyssey I had undertaken could be my last, for want of time or freedom from commitments. This one would be two months in the making and unbeknownst to me, would be my last. It would also be my last visit to Ukraine.

Arriving mid-September at the port of Chornomorsk, south of Odesa, brought with it a glorious sunset. The journey from Batumi to Chornomorsk had been lengthened thanks to a combination of a collision with a fuelling vessel mid-journey, then Russian naval drills outside of Odesa. To be clear, this was 2017, Russia was already preparing for its ‘special’ military operation.

Ukraine had changed from the country I remembered in 2012. Superficially there was a sizeable increase in the number of camo-adorned soldiers on the streets. The economy had been ravaged by Russia’s first invasion in 2014 in which they snatched chunks of eastern Ukraine and Crimea. There was an understandable bitterness when I spoke with locals about how they felt about their Russian ’brother’ nation, something I had not heard in 2012 at least to any meaningful extent. Matched by this disdain was the growing will to join the EU and generally lean further westwards.

Before embarking on the long ride home I decided to spend a couple of days in Odesa, treating myself to a bed rather than the utilitarian accommodation afforded by my tent.

Odesa is a wondrous city, a gem of Eastern Europe. As a port city on the Black Sea the city is one of the main crossroads of the region, home to communities with roots from across the Black Sea and beyond. On my first visit to the city I was taken aback by the breadth of languages humming in the air, the street food on offer, and religious diversity. In a single day I visited a mosque, a church and a synagogue. Despite the destruction of much of the community during World War II Odesa remains 4% Jewish. Learning about the history of this community I discovered the Jewish museum, nestled among the back-streets of Odesa. The museum was richly cluttered with artifacts inviting closer inspection; handwritten notebooks on electrodynamics, old vinyl, and photographs acting as windows into another time.

Upon one of my many walks through the city the sound of English perked my attention. It was a group of Pakistani medicine students who were happy to talk of their life in the city, as well as discuss Pakistan’s cricketing legacy. Unbeknownst to me Odesa is well recognised internationally for its medical university. The students were very much content with their lives in Ukraine, feeling very welcome.

Nevertheless, with all the places I had still wanted to visit in Odesa the autumnal weather had to be respected. With a window of clear skies now was the time to move north-westwards, snaking my way through Transnistria, into Moldova, then re-entering Ukraine before crossing into Poland 50km west of Lviv.

Transnistria, second time lucky

The ride to the Ukraine-Transnistrian border was only a short stretch from Odesa. In 2012 I had tried to cross the Moldovan-Transnistrian crossing with no success. Fearful of paying the bribe to enter the territory, as had been suggested, I decided to play the dumb tourist, a little lost, insisting that I wanted to follow the road northwards through Transnistria. As I pointed to the route on my map the border guards would countenance, pointing southwards away from the crossing. This game was played for a couple of minutes without a sense of urgency. There was no traffic at the border other than a pack of feral dogs who could clearly travel passport free. As the guards called their superior one last time, followed by a shaking of heads, I headed back to Moldova.

My second attempt was quite different. The Ukrainian-Transnistrian border was frequented far more often. Apparently Transnistria had opened up a little, to impress a friendlier image on western travelers. This time the border guard simply asked me how long I would like a visa for, three days were granted.

Upon the first night I stayed in a hotel in the capital, Tiraspol. In search of my abode, I had asked an unsuspecting woman whether there was a hotel she could recommend. To my good fortune she was an English student, with impeccable English, and offered to give me a tour of the city after dropping off my bike and belongings at the recommended hotel.

It was a friendly though curious conversation. She explained the difficulties of being a citizen of Transnistria, a territory not recognized as a country which rendered the Transnistrian passport useless. As per everyone I spoke to she was proud of Transnistria, and happy for it to remain independent.

Some oddities became clear in our conversation. Apparently, most citizens have a favourite Soviet leader exemplifying nostalgia for something that had not entirely gone away (hers was Brezhnev). In short, following the collapse of the Soviet Union the break-away republic of Transnistria was formed in a counter revolution effectively leaving the region as the last reminiscence of the Soviet Union itself.

Drawing on my rather rusty knowledge of Soviet history I argued that Nikita Khrushchev was the best Soviet leader, mainly for his attempt to liberalize the Soviet Union and his denunciation of Stalin. Moments after I said it, she leaned in and whispered, “We should probably move on, I have a feeling we’re being listened to.” Needless to say we did. This, after all, was a country that had quite literally maintained the KGB from its Soviet roots which had the right to detain and interrogate without judicial oversight.

October 2017 marked 100 years since the Russian revolution and Transnistria was hurriedly preparing to celebrate the anniversary. Tiraspol was well kept. Although some concrete was crumbling, litter was nonexistent. Road surfaces, something as a cyclist you see plenty of, were in a decent condition, especially compared to neighbouring countries. Additionally, Transnistria is speckled with supermarkets run by a company called Sheriff. These supermarkets are well stocked with their employees dressed in smart attire. The company is in fact owned by Viktor Gushan, a former KGB agent known as the oligarch of Transnistria (Sheriff also runs much of the media, petrol stations, telecoms, and construction and real estate in the territory).

Transnistria gave the impression of a region with a healthy economy but in truth it was all pantomime. The territory is propped up, no doubt playing a major role in the contentment of the populace that I witnessed. Those who had from its outset opposed the formation of Transnistria will mostly have left in the 1990s. Today, a referendum held in the territory would ensure Transnistria’s independence.

This couldn’t be a stronger message to Ukraine and its allies; Once a territory slips away for a generation, reclaiming it becomes almost impossible-a lesson Ukraine and its allies cannot ignore.

Through Moldova and back into Ukraine

Leaving Transnistria was more difficult than entering. Crossing the Dniester River by dusk, I saw Russian tanks in the forest covered in camouflage with their crew sat nearby. I greeted them in my broken Russian, hinting at how easily they could be seen. I was unsurprised by their presence, shortly before crossing the border I had entered a shop where numerous customers were Russian soldiers.

Once cycling up the hill on the other side of the river I was stopped by a Moldovan guard. In theory, as far as Moldova is concerned I had entered the country illegally as the Transnistrian-Moldovan border is unrecognised. As such I was ushered into an office whilst phone calls were made in order to decide whether I could gain entry into Moldova proper. Eventually I was released, cycling under the moonlight along my way.

If the current Russian invasion of Ukraine is not pushed back, this border is a likely blueprint for what can be expected, though with heavier militarisation on both sides.

As I headed northwards the weather shifted against me, impending rain which arrived shortly after leaving Bălţi in northern Moldova. Every day thereafter, until my arrival home in Germany brought rain, whether drizzle or deluge.

Crossing the border into Ukraine at Rososhany I camped by a lake with some fishermen. The rain cleared long enough to share some barbecued meat only to return again and force us into our tents.

Much of the route home brought me to familiar places, such as Ivano-Frankivsk, where I had camped with a group of teachers who described their frustration with Ukraine’s isolation from western Europe, or passing by a farm who had given me shelter, friendship, and not to mention copious amounts of pork and just a little vodka.

With persistent rain journeys tend to become more introverted affairs, with fewer people outside, and the knowledge that when you stop you become cold. This motivates you to keep moving. I arrived on the outskirts of Lviv, another beautiful city in Ukraine, though with the harshest cobble stones— a cyclists worst enemy. Envisioning the wet cobbles, I made the decision to use the ring road and get west of Lviv before nightfall. I would visit Lviv and Ukraine in the not too distant future, on another trip, so I thought.

The next day was my last in Ukraine. I passed through the town of Mostyska, the first town in Ukraine that I had arrived at the very beginning of this adventure. The owner of a pizzeria had insisted on giving me a free pizza and had been immensely helpful. A bundle of energy, he was curious as to my journey. Upon my return leg I entered the restaurant, hoping to thank him once again for his kindness a month earlier, only to leave this as a message in his absence.

And so I arrived at not just the Polish border but the border of the European Union wishing Ukraine farewell.

My current fundraising campaign, Ride for Ukraine

There is at least one family that I remain in contact with, the very first who gave me shelter in 2012, who is fatherless thanks to the Russian invasion. The tragedy that befalls Ukraine is one of immense suffering. Yet, our nations, Ukraine’s allies have been slow to respond, with often tepid support that rarely meets Ukraine’s shortfall.

This continues to be the case.

As I highlighted in a recent article, Ukraine’s shortfall is acute. By donating to Ukraine based charities that fund home grown projects the benefits for Ukraine are not just a reliable source of armaments, air defense equipment, anti-drone technology, and humanitarian aid, but also bolster the Ukrainian economy through economic activity within Ukraine.

This is why I am raising money for United24 with a video on my YouTube channel to highlight my motivations. Additional updates will be forthcoming. The goal is to ride from Halle (Germany) to Rotterdam (Netherlands) in five days (come rain or wind). Any support, whether a donation, kind word, or share of my donation page or video are greatly appreciated.

United24 are currently raising money for a range of projects from air-defense, mine-clearing, and ambulances, to rebuilding projects and education.

If our governments are not adequately supporting Ukraine we collectively as individuals can make the difference.

Donate: https://whydonate.com/fundraising/rideforukraine

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMo6sL--76s&t=6s