21.06
Off to Kazakhstan. It is only around 50-60km to the border.
At the border I meet Orhan and his son Halit from Turkey. The two are traveling for 3-4 weeks with their motorcycles to ride the Pamir Highway.
The departure from Russia and entry into Kazakhstan is fairly quick and without problems. Especially on the Kazakh side, the border officials are extremely friendly.
Right behind the border, a handful of women are approaching us. Money exchange.
They are standing outside in the sun all day long to do their business. They are dressed from top to bottom, in as light and bright clothing as possible, wear gloves and sunglasses. Not a single patch of skin is visible. Money exchange is illegal, but for a traveler the only way to survive, when you are far, far away from the next bank or ATM. The exchange rate is very bad. I try to trade a bit, it does not help – margin, black market.
Then we get a car insurance in a booth just across the border. We take a short break at a food stall and then continue together.
The road to Atyrau is extremely bad. It takes hours until we arrive in the evening.
22.06
It is around 450km to the next town. I assume that the road conditions are bad again, which means traveling about 10h-11h. After 8 days and almost 4,000km I don’t want to do that. The hostel is nice, not busy, WiFi available. Therefore today a rest-day.
But not really a rest-day.
Sightseeing, siesta, planning the further route, sorting and making backup of the photos, charging all electronic devices, making preparations for future reports on my blog.
I also visit a car wash to clear the insect cemetery from the motorcycle and check if all screws are still tight.
Until now I did not waste a thought on (wild) camping. I’m glad when I find a hostel or hotel in the evening, where I can take off the clothes and take a cold shoer after a hot day. And where there is also air conditioning in the room.
So, at the moment I carry a round the gas cartridges and cooker and the instant coffee uselessly. Maybe I can use them in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, in the mountains, where the temperatures are hopefully a bit cooler.
Police in Kazakhstan is very strict about speed limits. The police cars have radar mounted on the roofs of the cars, which looks like a rocket launcher.
23.06
Atyrau – Beineu
Today it was unbearable. Somewhere I’ve seen written 46 Degrees C. I have opened every zipper on my motorcycle jacket, that the wind can pass through a bit. It inflates the jacket and I must look a little bit like a balloon. Sometimes an extremely strong wind blows from the side, which almost lifts me off the bike. The small gap on my hands between glove and jacket sleeve is constantly exposed to the sun. I must not forget to apply sunscreen in the morning before I leave.
When I get off the bike in the afternoon / evening, all the items are very warm, the water is warm, the clothes in the suitcases and bags, electronic devices, sunscreen and other liquids. Just everything.
The roads are often a disaster, in between brand new. But all the way along – in Ukraine, in Russia in Kazakhstan, now Uzbekistan – roads were built or renewed. Incredibly much. Is it the new Silk Road that is already being built?
The area is extremely bleak. More sandy than stony desert. Very low vegetation, knee-high shrubs are widely spread. There are no trees. No shade under which to seek refuge. Just a bunch of camels running around freely here. Many have a rope around their neck or a band. So they must belong to someone.
Earlier these days Beineu was definitely one of those caravan cities. The houses are widely spread. The warm wind blows the sand through the streets. I remind you that I can not read the Cyrillic alphabet. All windows are concealed with cardboard or similar, to keep the heat out. I am looking for water and food. The locked, concealed windows do not allow to look inward to see if it’s a grocery store.
I run through the streets and look out, if I can see people walking around with shopping bags somewhere. In the end, I find the big market, where everything can be bought.
24.06
And again a long trip in front of me. 540Km, around 11h and a border crossing. Today I enter Uzbekistan.
The night before I have already filled my motorcycle to the top with gasoline.
In Uzbekistan petrol stations are very scarce, because the vehicles use LPG. There are a few petrol stations in the country, mainly in the larger cities. Otherwise you have to look for petrol on the black market. If you see someone driving around with the moped, you just show that you need gasoline and hopefully you will be taken somewhere, where you can get gasoline from the canister in mostly bad quality.
Today there is an app for everything, including for overland travelers (iOverlander). In this app, people enter useful information for other travelers. Petrol stations, overnight accommodation, money exchange offices, mechanics, … and for Uzbekistan also, where you can get gasoline or diesel on the black market.
My motorcycle is quite frugal with 3.5 to 4l on 100km. But even with a 17l gasoline tank, I won’t make it to my destination today. I have a foldable water camping canister with me, which holds 5l and I want to abuse it for spare fuel. For an emergency situation it must be enough.
Gasoline has the characteristics of evaporating. Anyone who has ever left a jerry can in the sun, will notice that the things are very bloated. So I am not sure if I should use the water canister because I am afraid that it will torn apart by the pressure in the heat.
Today I leave before 7 o’clock. The last gas station, before the border is still closed, so my idea is superfluous. Now I can only hope that I will get gasoline at the positions indicated in the app, otherwise it looks bad for me.
It is not far to the Uzbek border. There – I wait. The wind blows the sand through the air, soon everything is covered with a fine layer of dust and it crunches between the teeth.
The young border officials are very friendly. One tries to persuade me, that I allow him to drive around with my motorcycle. It’s ok to sit on top, but I will not let him drive. Also, one or the other person standing around, wants to take a seat on the bike, and is allowed to do so.
People are very friendly and open since Kazakhstan. Many come up to me, want to talk a few words. It’s always the usual things, where are you from, where do you go, talking with hands and feet, some speak a little bit of English. People wave when passing by, by car.
The procedure for the border crossing here is extremely tedious, the passport is getting controlled tens of times, running from A to B to C. It’s very similar to Central America. Apart from the tedious bureaucratic hurdles, I would like to mention again that the border officials are very friendly and interested. And I must stress that we tourists have received preferential treatment and were served first. With “we”, I mean the German couple I met at the border, traveling with an off-road camper. I do not know how long it took, 2 – 2/1h and I can finally continue.
Behind the border, I am immediately surrounded by a lot of money exchange ladies, each holds me a bunch of money under the nose. The official rate is 1 to about 9500. I change 100 USD and they hand over a thick bunch of money. Suddenly everyone is running apart, pointing to me that I should follow. Two border guards came along. Then they give me another bunch of money. It is impossible to count that. I do not know how much I received and if I got screwed. In the hostel I try to extrapolate. It was a very bad exchange rate 1: 7000 or so.
My recommendation, just change around 20-30 EUR or $ at the border, just enough to get you to the next town and bank.
From the border to Nukus it is more than 400km. In between, two, three villages and a rest stop.
The sparrows are always sitting around on the street or flying low through the area. Later I can see, one of them got shredded in the spokes of the wheel. I hit two or three more.
In between, a motorcyclist approaches from the other side, we stop and change a few words. He is from Spain, has shipped his motorcycle to Central Asia and is now on his way back. Fully packed up to the top. Why do people take so many things with them. I think I’m pretty good now with what what to carry on.
I approach said place, where there should be gasoline. It is a railroad crossing. There is just a boy sitting there, barely over 10 years old. I stop and ask him where there is gasoline. He points to himself, You get it from Me. An older guy is already approaching with a motorcycle, he was not older than 15. I ask, how much? 9000 SOM, about 90 cents, twice the usual price. But if you have only the choice to buy overpriced petrol or to die out here on the side of the road, you do not bargain much. 5l should be enough to get me to todays destination.
From another traveler I read: Sometimes 1l of gas will bring you further, than 1l of water. How true.
But I also learn to appreciate how precious and vital water is, that we need not worry about in Austria, where it is abundant.
At some point, I see someone waving from behind a bush and a packed bicycle lying on the ground. I stop. It’s Lena and Ollie (if you read this, please let me know, if I wrote your name correct), a young couple who ride their bikes home to Germany, as far as I can remember. They sought protection in the shade from the blazing sun under one of the few larger bushes.
My first question was: WTF are you doing out here? Already with the motorcycle it is a pain and the two have to go through there with their bicycles. We talk for a few minutes before I leave them to their fate again.
I finally arrive in Nukus. The first way leads to the gas station. I had 1 liter of gasoline in the tank left. Enough for maybe 30-35km.
After checking in at the hostel and cleaning up, I search for the nearest grocery store. That’s always the first thing I do. Looking for a grocery store to restock the water supplies.
As I walk down the street, I see a tap from the corner of my eye. Internet source says 80% in Uzbekistan are Muslims, so I thought that alcohol is scarce. I enter immediately. It is a small stall. Maybe 4 by 4 meters. On the back wall: a fridge filled with beer bottles, a door into another room, a shelf full of different vodka brands.
In the room: another fridge, 2 small tables, 3 chairs and 4 people.
The people are discussing and were a bit puzzled as I step into the room. I’m just pointing to one of the cool beer bottles standing in front of one of the people on the table.
I want one too … Ahh, that’s good!
The shyness disappears quickly, one of the persons speaks a few words of English and we are already in a “conversation”.
Among other things, he mentions that it is a tragedy with the dry Aral Sea and that it is troublesome with tourism in Uzbekistan, because the government always wants to know who is in the country, and where they are. The official hotels have to register their guest. If you travel individual, e.g. with the camper, you have to register every 3 days via an online platform.
And they tell me, that I absolutely must visit the art museum. I will do that tomorrow.