Siberia. Magadan to Novosibirsk via the Road of Bones. Picking up from Kadykchan, Furthest North, and Three Flat Tyres: The Ghost Town and Ust-Nera. The series starts here: We Needed an Expedition, Not a Holiday.

We woke up to a cold, rainy morning, delighted to learn that the first snowstorm of winter was heading straight for us. Less delighted was the tour group we’d met the evening before, whose flight to Yakutsk had just been grounded.

The road started off rough and in serious need of a grader. We found the grader a bit further up the hill, sitting halfway down an embankment.

Morning tea was at a roadside truck-stop café, where we met an old Russian man touring the country in a Soviet-era GAZ-69 pulling a home-built trailer. He was camping along the way and kindly insisted on giving us some fresh fish he’d caught. We had no way of cooking it. There were outdoor toilets, but a tree would have been better.

Lunch brought us to the Kyubyume Fuel Stop and Café Kuba. One of the most remote gas stations in the world — a couple of shipping containers anchored by a bulk gas tank. Surprisingly, it boasted world-class internet, allowing Janine to catch up with the kids. Looking at the collection of travel stickers plastered across the fuel tank, I vowed to design one for us to leave behind on our next trip.

Even though the Land Cruiser was only half empty, I suggested to Greg that we top up while we had the chance. Greg declined, assuring us we’d be fine.

By mid-afternoon, the snow caught up with us. Light flakes drifted down through the taiga. It went quiet.

That peace lasted until the engine sputtered and died.

It was bitterly cold hauling the jerrycan off the roof rack to top up the tank on the side of the road. I decided not to mention to Greg how much easier that job would have been at lunch.

Along the way a black bear ran out of the taiga.

Driving into Khandyga, I spotted a police car sitting behind us — still there several turns later. I didn’t say anything to Janine, but I was more nervous than the situation probably called for.

We pulled into a diner for the night, and the police car pulled in right behind us, blocking us in. They wanted to know about any smugglers we’d seen on the road. We’d seen a couple of trucks parked oddly, which seemed to be exactly what they were after. The police were grateful for the intel.

We checked into a local house for the night.