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trucks, 15-seater minibuses overtook the overtaking trucks, at high speed, dodging fallen rocks on the wrong side of the road – but honking their horns to give themselves right of way. The roadsides were littered with mangled wrecks.
The only option any self-respecting moped rider was left with was to ride up the inside of the three rows of overtaking vehicles and pray nobody tightened up on the corner to avoid anything coming the other way. We developed a system; hammer into the corner, aim at the rock wall, and pin it. Only very occasionally did we have to brake. It was hilarious, magnificently life affirming and ludicrously dodgy as we skimmed inside truck wheels as high as our heads. But then utterly brilliant as we beat almost everything through the hairpins to arrive in Berestagi coated in diesel filth, road grit and sweat – and grinning like mad people.
The next day we continued up the twisties to the 2200 metre Mount Sibayak, the closest active volcano we could find. Riding up was incredible; the road was mainly chunks of volcanic rock and mud that would have demanded concentration from Erzberg riders. But the Varios had it covered, even though I wouldn’ t have even attempted it on my KTM at home. The last bit was too steep for even the Varios to handle, so we hiked to the edge of the crater
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