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Vladislav Ketov, who opposes man-made boundaries, is traveling "a path that God made'' - he has bicycled along the coastline of five continents.
By ANDREW MEACHAM
© St. Petersburg Times, published August 21, 2000
ST. PETERSBURG -- No spandex shorts. No helmet. No wraparound shades. A Russian hybrid of a bicycle -- steel-framed; no chrome or titanium -- equipped with conventional handlebars and other parts he assembled himself. A bike so unwieldy (130 pounds on travel days) that a would-be thief in North Africa wiped out after riding only a few feet.
As a representative of sports fashion, this man is not ready to pedal around the block.
Yet Vladislav Ketov, 51, is close to completing his mission of tracing the coastlines of five continents.
He began his journey nine years ago from his home in St. Petersburg, Russia, where he had painted portraits. He has since worn down three bicycles and more than 100 bicycle tires over 77,000 miles.
He has been squinting into the sun for so long, his crow's feet have tan lines. He has trekked through a half-dozen war zones and even more time zones, searching for an "ecologically friendly way" to get across his message: that oceans and mountain ranges may separate peoples, but ideology ought not to.
"The main problem in the world -- not just for me -- is politics," Ketov said through a translator in the lobby of the Bay Park Arms, 326 First Ave. N, where he spent last Monday and Tuesday nights before pedaling on toward Miami on Wednesday. "It's best when people live by their own ways, their own work, their own thinking."
Ketov knows of bureaucracies. The stamps of 90 countries -- he's on his eighth passport -- bear out his tale, as do photographs and newspaper clippings about his travels: Bangladesh, Vietnam, Singapore, Thailand. El Salvador in April, Mexico in May. He crossed the Texas border July 22 and hugged the Gulf Coast: Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, the Florida Panhandle.
Delays in securing visas have eaten up 41/2 years, Ketov estimates. But each stop brings him closer to the St. Lawrence River in Canada, where he will have pretty much achieved his goal of bicycling the coasts of Europe, Asia, Africa, and North and South America.
That's all of the world's continents except Australia and Antarctica. He's still puzzling over finding some environmentally acceptable way to at least fly over the frigid northern Canadian border.
A pertinent question, of course, is why. The answers lie in the psyche of a man who speaks in cryptic generalities and exudes a mixture of idealism and worldly skepticism. Ketov grew up in the Ural Mountains in west-central Russia and studied art theory at Ural State University. After graduation, he moved to Leningrad (now St. Petersburg). He married, and he and his wife had three sons, the eldest of whom is now grown.
A talented artist and amateur athlete, Ketov began to blend his belief in what he calls a "general creative principle" with his desire to do something no one else had done.
"I tried to think of what would be a good path," he said, "and decided to follow a path that no one would need a route for because it's following a path that God made."
He created "Project Edem," coining a term from Russian and English for "ethical environmental movement," emphasizing unity through diversity and a distrust of hierarchies and systems.
He loaded down his bicycle with cookware and a tent, art supplies and the first maps he would need. He planned for warm weather and traveled light.
May 14, 1995, four years to the day from when he first set out from St. Petersburg, Russia, he was pelted with golfball-sized hailstones in Bangladesh.
During those years he sketched portraits to make ends meet but soon would win sponsorship from an air cargo company serving the United Arab Emirates. The company still wires him money periodically, for which he is grateful but which also causes delays and more waiting. He spends frugally, avoiding restaurants. He eats soup or bouillon in the morning, and bread with 2 liters of milk for supper. He does not eat lunch.
The names of war zones he has traversed roll off of his tongue: Yugoslavia, Lebanon, Mozambique, South Yemen. In war-torn Angola, he killed a snake and ate it because he was hungry. Namibians later told him the snake was a puff adder, of the same family as the cobra.
He has carried his bicycle across river beds and walked it up mountain grades. He has been robbed a few times -- some money in Russia and Nicaragua, a radio in India.
Someone tried to make off with the bicycle while he was buying water in North Africa. But it was so heavily loaded down, the thief crashed it almost immediately and gave up.
He has been refused entry into Somalia, Liberia, Libya and North Korea. China refused him entry five times, even when a Russian ambassador interceded on his behalf. On the sixth try, a German businessman helped secure his entry through Hong Kong.
Photos he carries in his saddlebag document happier times as well: in a Malaysian sauna with Russian diplomats; a meeting in Morocco with Fiona Campbell, the first woman to walk the coast of Africa. He has survived the trip with only three or four doctor visits.
"Special bicycle problems," he said.
Along the way, Ketov has often consulted a Russian-to-English travel booklet, underlining the phrases he needed. "A run of luck, peace of mind" and "to make the best of a bad bargain" are underlined. "On thin ice" and "to play with fire" are not.
He has seen some sights. "The Spanish coast is very beautiful," Ketov said when asked to recount his favorites. "Also the Adriatic Sea and along the Algerian coast. South Africa, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, Southeast Asia. The California coast and southern Chile.
"Here is good too," he said with a smile.
Ketov has returned home five times, most recently over New Year's. With each visit, he dumps another set of used maps into a collection that now fills two suitcases. He said he misses his family but is not overcome by loneliness.
"When I am with myself, I am not alone," he said.
Wednesday morning at the Bay Park Arms, Ketov appeared restless. It would be a few hours before the air cargo company could wire more money.
He talked about the book he plans to write when he gets home -- whenever that is. The book will promote his message of harmony and one-on-one communication. He estimates that only "5 to 8 percent" of the people will understand him.
"We're part of a very complex world," he said. "It's not right to think that only we know what's right and we have the whole truth."
At his present rate of about 70 miles a day and figuring in delays, Ketov should arrive at the St. Lawrence River by mid-October. He would like to be there before it gets too cold.