Photo Essay / The Transiberian Express. From Moscow-Ulaanbaatar (10+ Photographs & Article)

(A cow grazes, seen from my Yurt in Outer Mongolio)

Paul Thoreaux, the late father of BBC presenter Louis Therouax inspired me to travel across the world in a easterly direction by train, chasing the sun as it tried desperately to set over the open plains of Siberia with a bottle of cheap Vodka and my innocence intact.

It quickly became clear, when my train from Warsaw arrived in a derelict station in Eastern Moscow overshadowed by a gigantic statue of an Iron Fist that I was in over my head.

Moscow is a cold and miserable place, fantastically communist by design, dark by nature and on edge. There was an imminent sense of collapse around every corner. My desire for interaction left me clasping a speculative smile from a lady tending the birds who reminded me of the women from Home Alone 2. She was a character straight out of 'Crime & Punishment, an ode to the Soviet past and future.

To demonstrate the gap between Moscows poorest and the great heaps of wealth the city hoardes, this image of a Chanel model was taking about 150m from the one of the lady in rags.

I was glad to be leaving Moscow by train, heading eastwards for 7 days, without stopping. I was cold and miserable in Moscow and without a doubt pretty lonely. An ended relationship, depression and debt loomed.

The Transiberian Railway is a babaric horse, made of raw steel that clunks along at a steady pace for days, Thawing it's way through the winter chills of the northern hemisphere. I was relaxed, still completely unprepared for the dropping temperatures but most definitely on my way to Asia.

My peace and tranquillity was aptly spoilt when three large Russian men befriended me almost certainly because I kept a decent stock of Vodka in my cabin. Over the next 7 days I sat with them drinking and listening to them converse, hours and days passed but the view from the window stayed the same and so did the language. Russian is a beautiful language, but I was frustrated. Life was a never ending horizon of snow and trees and the occasional village made of wood which the train always slowed down when passing so the locals could breifly jump aboard and try and sell a variety of dried fish and other snacks to the passengers.

Goats, chickens, cattle and cars. People seemed to move everything by train. The lady below spoke basic English and over the next few days I helped look after her cat which she kept snuggled inside her jacket. The company was very welcome.

There is little to see on the Transiberian Express, particularly in the winter months. It is about being there in a moment and making gains across the wilderness. Following in the footsteps of others and the shadow of legends. The prolonged sunsets are champion and the fantastic nights worth waiting for, so many stars.

(Self Portrait taken in a blizzard, 3 days East of Moscow)

Mongolio presented to me my first taste of Asia and Nomadic life. Attitudes towards my goals as a traveller from the western world chamged dramatically in the land of Ghengis Khan.

The Mogolian plains and the Gobi looked to me like a bone cold parallel to Africa, it was easy to imagine Zebras and Giraffes and Prides of Lions moving across the rich land. But nothing moved except the mountains.

I wasnt in Mongolia for more than a week so it is difficult to form an opinion. I have always had a strong desire to return for a longer period and extensively photograph the locals. As their way of life ebbs away, slowly but surely.

The capital Ullanbaatar was a dirty place. It had a soviet feel and the pollution is still the worst I've experienced. It is the fault of fire wood. Mornings bite your skin and in order to keep warm you burn wood, lots of wood. As I wander through the smog I can at least imagine the air my great gran parents breathed when they were children in 19th century Britain.

I wish I had more to share. Sadly my macbook was stolen in Melbourne by some arsehole back packer and with it went a years worth of writing and photographs. But alas, I snagged these from an old myspace accout I had.

Hope you enjoyed my stories once again.

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