Ragtag Camp Grows on Russia's New Frontier
A gun turret pointed towards Kiev, a bunch of pro-Russia militiamen and a queue of impatient drivers: this strip of land near the village of Chongar is Russia's new de facto border.
More than 30 cars were backed up on the Crimean side, with the Black Sea on either side, and double that number can be seen on the Ukrainian mainland.
They were all being searched by Crimea's "self-defense" forces and Berkut riot police -- a feared unit that was disbanded by Ukraine's new government for its involvement in the crackdown on protests in Kiev.
But on the Crimean side, the Berkut still exist and are the new customs guards on Europe's eastern frontier.
The coastal road linking Crimea to the mainland is one of only two access points to the now Russian-ruled peninsula.
The barricades at the checkpoint are improvised -- car tires and sand bags -- not unlike the ones seen on the Maidan in Kiev, where protests toppled Kremlin-backed president Viktor Yanukovych last month, prompting the Russian takeover of Crimea.
Wearing balaclavas and a ragtag mix of uniforms and carrying Kalashnikovs, the "customs guards" order the drivers out of their cars.
They have to open their boots and the contents are carefully looked over.
"This is sad and useless!" Oleksandr, a Ukrainian with graying hair, said from the window of his black Skoda.
"They have to get rid of this border!" he said, after a half-hour wait.
Further along the queue is Irina, 48, in a sparky T-shirt -- on her way to Donetsk in eastern Ukraine.
"It's very humiliating all this. Before we could travel freely and now they've taken away that right," she said, holding her fake Gucci sunglasses in her manicured hands.
But Irina said she was pro-Russian and would be willing to wait longer.
"I'm ready to stay entire days in this queue if it means we can live properly!" she said.
Russian troops could be seen grouped under three large khaki tents, overseeing border activities in their uniforms without identifying signs.
They dug a trench on either side of the road and a Russian armored personnel carrier had its gun tower pointed to the rest of Ukraine.
An improvised encampment has grown up around Chongar's small Orthodox church, two tiny cafes and a stall selling dried fish to waiting drivers.
Around 20 pro-Russian militiamen could also be seen at the camp: many of them young, bored and rough-looking.
"We're here to help out," said one militia member in a baseball cap.
One unshaven man could be seen smoking as he leaned against a red BMW. Others gathered around two mobile kitchens.
One militia member amused himself by pointing his Kalashnikov at the head of another, as a third with clear blue eyes staggered around drunk.
Crimea is now de facto Russian and the euphoria on the mostly Russian peninsula has passed, giving way, at least here, to boredom, dust and stray dogs on a scrappy border.