Tokyo to L.A. - The Hard Way - In a Suzuki Kizashi: Russia Wrap-Up

MAGADAN TO ANCHORAGE The call of seagulls in any other city is merely background noise. In San Francisco, they're what you hear when wandering around Fisherman's Wharf. In Boston, their cries go well with a bread bowl of chowda.In Magadan, their keening is upfront and insistent, impossible to ignore in this quiet, late-waking port city. We're tired but elated to finally arrive after 10 days and more than 3200 miles, but after wandering about the city, its ghoulish history gives us pause.Only a few generations ago, going to Magadan was effectively a death sentence. It was not the end of an amazing and unforgettable journey, but the start of something awful and unspeakable.Starting in the late 1920s, Stalin sent thousands of prisoners to Magadan, first to build the city, then inland to far eastern Russia and Siberia. This forced labor built the access road, the Kolyma Highway, and set up dozens of camps, called gulags, along the route. High upon a hill over looking Magadan is the Maska Skorbi.  This is the Mask of Sorrow, a powerful monument built to honor those who died in Stalin's gulags, particularly in the Kolyma region. There are precious few monuments like this anywhere in Russia. The only other one we know about is the one we visited in Ust-Nera, and perhaps that is what makes this one so moving.It is a heart-wrenching tribute, not only in its scale, but also in the way visitors can interact with it. A stairway up the right side of the 50-foot face leads to a landing from which you can view the city and inspect the carved smaller faces that comprise the tears. The features around the back are even more compelling. Below a painfully distorted sculpture of a man in the rictus of crucifixion sits a statuette of a girl shielding her face with both hands. She is elevated but still near enough to the ground that visitors can touch her, sit with her, and leave flowers, coins, or other mementos.Wander up the hill behind the structure and you can see how the mask looks east over the city and the Sea of Ohkotsk -- the same direction incoming prison ships arrived more than 70 years ago, their holds crammed with scared and already suffering teachers, lawyers, doctors, commoners and criminals.While on this hill, it is hard not to hear the keening of the gulls and think of them as plaintive wails for those who died building Magadan and the Road of Bones. Though many have tried, the exact death toll is impossible to determine. Estimates have gone as high as 30 million for the entire gulag system, though approximations for the Kolyma Highway range from the high hundred thousands to 3 million. Tributes to the dead are common in all countries, but are usually built for those who fought and died in battle. Few countries construct memorials admitting the horrors perpetuated by one of their own leaders.  It's a somber note to end what has otherwise been a fantastic journey, but it is also somehow fitting. Like many who have come before us, once we arrive in Magadan, we want to leave as soon as possible. Our job was to drive the Road of Bones and make it to Magadan in one piece. Now that we're finished, it's time to go home.Before doing so, we need to take stock and give thanks.  All of the vehicles and gear made it to the very end, although some are worse off than others. The big surprise is that the trailer completed the journey reasonably intact. After a rough break-in period that destroyed the right shock and spare tire carrier, the trailer stopped being a problem. Despite its myriad issues, we're thankful for its ability to carry our food, supplies, and lodging. It's no surprise that all the Suzukis -- bike, cars and trucks -- made it without serious problems. The V-Strom 650 lost a few bits of bodywork and sprang an oil line midway through, but otherwise ran fine under the competent direction of Motorcyclist's wild man, Joe Gresh. The Equator trucks never missed a beat, despite being thrashed by Fred Williams of Petersen's