Archive for May, 2009

25.05.09

I woke up early and had breakfast at 8 o clock.  I wanted to be on the road early but there were 3 things I had to do before I left Dushanbe. (1) get GPRS working on my new Tajik sim card (2) get some petrol and (3) change some cash into Tajik somoni.

The first took about an hour, trying to call the phone provider and searching the internet – but we got there.  The second and third I could do in the centre of town.

By 10:15 I was all done and on the road.  I had two possible routes planned and I didnt know which to take.  Both involved heading 25km east of Dushanbe.  Both would meet up at Kalaikhum, on the Panj River that makes the Afghan border.

Perhaps out of laziness, I got to the turnoff point and went straight ahead, on the main road to Kalaikum.  It was  the route most travellers take, and it was a fair bit shorter than the other route.  As it happens I got only 15 km down the road when the police told me the road was closed ahead.  I could have stopped and chatted to find out why, and for how long, but as I had the other route planned, to the south via Kulab, hitting the Panj River 150 km earlier, Idecided just to turn around and take the alternate route.

This alternate route had been recommended to me by a Dutch guy, Pieter from Amsterdam,  If I hadnt been in such a hurry to get to Khorog, I would have taken it automatically.  I had a couple of reasons to press on.  The 18 days off the bike had meant I would already be late getting to Siberia and I wanted to minimise my lateness, and secondly, I had only been given 5 full days in Tajikistan from the customs guy when I entered.  Sure I could faff about in Dushanbe to get an extension, but that in itself would cost me a day..

As it happens I was now going the scenic route anyway. The road was an interesting steady climb and descent to Dangara, but the next 100 or so km to Kulab was down in the lowlands, all from 400 – 600 m in altitude and hot and to be honest, pretty boring.  My initial plan was to lunch in Kulab and then head over the last range to the Panj River.  The heat made me change plan.  I would head to Shurabad up in the hills for lunch where it would be cooler.

The road immediately began to get interesting as soon as I left Kulab – climbing from around 600 metres to a pass up at 2000 metres 20 km away.  It was just a huge open climb, a lot of fun and I stopped to take a foto at the top, looking all the way back to Kulab.  That done it was a short ride to Shurabad and lunch, only the bike wouldnt start.  Nothing.  No lights, no anything.  It was 1:45 pm.  I checked the power, and the battery was still alive.  I assumed it was a blown fuse and took off the seat and examined all the fuses … they were all fine.  I checked all visible wiring.  It was now 2:30pm.  I came to the conclusion that something was amiss with my ignition switch… what to do.?

I made an executive decision to head back to Kulab, one of the largest towns in Tajikistan … it was pretty much all downhill … I could glide the 20 km …  And I did, tho it took me 30 minutes with a few short paddling sessions in the middle.  I found a service station of sorts and spoke to the guys … saying I needed an “electrical master”.  A few phone calls were made and the sparky came 10 minutes later.  I explained to him what I thought was the problem and while I was still justifying my logic to him in Russian, he had bypassed the ignition switch with a test wire and got the bike to fire up.  So I was right for a change.

On the glide down the hill I though about what to do if it was indeed the ignition switch.  I figured I had a spare switch on my ‘dashboard’ which could double as an ignition switch, tho I would have to add a second hidden switch on the same circuit for when I left the bike, like in the evenings.  All the way down that huge hill I was thinking of where to hide that second secret switch.

I counted on the idea that ignition switches were untamperable, and to open one up was to break it.  This time I was wrong.  My Tajik sparky had opened up the ignition switch and had found the problem … a soldered connection had come unsoldered. Easy to fix if you have a soldering iron … My Tajik sparky was fast, and smart, but he had no soldering iron.  He had to disappear for 10 minutes to borrow one from a friend.

While he was away I had been chatting to the assorted lads and hangers on at the mechanics shop and the lads insisted on washing the bike.  Out of the kitchen (like many workshops in the former soviet union, a workshop if often a cafe as well – like Lyosha’s back in Beyneu) comes a loud 20 year old Tajik girl suggesting I take her on my bike back to England.  She suggested she was a good cook.  One of the lads suggested she was good at something else that I didnt catch as it was in Tajik, but it was not hard to guess the jist of the comment.  I politely declined, stating the Sibirsky Extreme Project’s completion was incompatible with riding back to England with a mad Tajik cook in tow.

The sparky returned with the ignition switch all soldered up.  5 minutes later all was fixed, the sparky was 20 Tajik somoni richer (about 3.50 EUR) and I was repacking the bike.  I had feared a day or so out of action when the bike died on the top of that pass, but I was back on the road 2 hours and 45 minutes after the bike died.  1 hour of that was my attempts to fix and then diagnose the problem and 30 more minutes was me gliding back to Kulab.  The ride back up the big hill was twice as fast and exactly 3 hours after I broke down I was riding back past the same spot.  It was now almost 5 pm and I still wanted to try and make it to Kalaikhum.  Lunch now was obviously not necessary.

After Shurabad, it became clear that my hopes of further quick progress would be dashed by an old, often unpaved road that led to the Panj River and the Afghan border.  The road may have been poor, but in the finest Tajik traditions, it was through spectacular mountains.  The area between Dungara and Kulab had been totally flat plains.  It was good to be back in the mountains and interesting scenery again.  It was about 6pm when I finally reached the Panj valley and the road turned north to head upstream on the river.

This quickly became some of the most amazing scenery I have ever ridden through. The Panj cut through a tremendously deep valley with equally tremendous vigor.  As far as I could see upstream, it was constant rapids, constant white water.  With the main road closed this route was now the only way to get from Dushanbe to the Badakhshan region, or which Khorog is the capital.  The track alongside the river was one of the most challenging I have ridden.  It was narrow, steep, often with oversize gravel and boulders, many water crossings etc etc.  It was a challenge and I really enjoyed it.  The only downside was that progress was painfully slow.  There was no way I could average 50-60 km/h on this road.  At one point I even came across a waterfall covering the track.  There was no way around it … it was cliff on one side and vertical drop on the other.  I couldnt really see what was on the other side of the fall, but plunged in anyway with visor down.  Every metre of this road was interesting and the scenery breathtaking.  This road had to make it only my recommended roads list!

As darkness descended I reverted to both headlights.  On the edge of darkness I passed a couple of soldiers patrolling the border and asked how far to Zigar (the first town on the road).  “25 km” was the answer.  At the speeds I was going, that would take almost an hour, especially with all the constant demands to stop for  fotos – imposed by the jaw dropping scenery.  At the speed trucks were going it would be 3 times that.  There were quite a few trucks doing the route too, but  they were crawling along in first gear the whole way at no more than 5 miles an hour.  the only other vehicles apart from me and the trucks were the occasional Landcruiser / Nissan Patrol, which were the buses of the Badakhshan region where I was heading.

At one narrow point I got stuck behind a truck with no way to pass.  As Ibegan to curse the truck, I realised his presence was a blessing.  In front of us was a deep water crossing.  I wanted to see how he made it across and work out how smooth the bottom was and how deep it was.  The truck inched across in low gear before struggling up the steep bank on the other side.  I could see two problems from the movement of the trucks wheels thru the water.  The bottom was rocky, and it was about 60-70 cm deep.  The depth should be ok for the bike, but I was going to have to get my feet wet.  The other problem was the bank on the other side.  It too was rocky, and steep, especially the bit where you emerge from the water.  The truck had moved on and I was alone in the world pondering this crossing.

Damn the torpedoes … engage first gear and lets go.  I was lucky, I was finding a smoother path across the bottom than the truck did and a few deep breaths later by front wheel was up on the far bank … and my boots were filled with freezing cold water.  Getting the back end out of the water was tough … the bank was rocky.  I tried pushing back a few times to get a foot or so of run up to the bank and on the third time I made it, back wheel spinning wildly all over the wet rocks but somehow finding enough traction at one point to launch me clear of the water and up onto dry land again.

I passed a gang of workers, working into the darkness, churning up the road into a surface really only designed for multi-wheel drive trucks with enormous ground clearance to pass.  I had no choice but to take on the piles of soft earth and gravel, conscious of the sheer cliff into the Panj on my right.

After one of the most exhilerating rides of my life I made it to the police checkpoint on the outskirts of Zigar, where everyone has to register.  The checkpoints in this region are not at all discriminatory.  Everyone has to get out and register their presence at each checkpoint.   There was no electricity here.  Even this police checkpoint was illuminated by a solitary candle on the desk of the chief.  All along the route by the Panj there had been no signs of life, other than the road itself and the occasional blacked out tiny village.  No power lines, no telephone wires … nothing apart from the amazing road to show man was present.

Just as I was leaving the checkpoint a truck driver stopped me for a chat.  He was going the same way and told me not to bother trying to stop in Zigar … there was no restaurants or places to stay, but he recommended a great place 15 km down the road.

15km !!! on these roads that was at least another half hour in the dark.  I reluctantly saddled up and prepared for more intense concentration.  To my  shock and surprise, on entering Zigar, I found alphalt road … not just asphalt road, but immaculate asphalt road.  It continued as I left Zigar … in fact it was like a proper road.  Wide, guard rails, reflectors.  My speed increased to 80 km/h, then 100 … I couldnt see anything but that which was illuminated by my twin xenon high beams, but that was more than enough road ahead to see the gradual curves into the distance.  It this kept up, my 15 km would pass in about 9 minutes.  Not being able to see the spectacular scenery had me wondering what was this  amazing piece of road.  How did they build a road to cruise so effortlessly through this rugged countryside?  Was it the Chinese at work again.

In no time I had reached the next village, Khostav, and found the recommended restaurant / guesthouse.  It was a truck parking lot out the front, clearly a truck drivers favorite.  I settled down on the only spare table and ordered a bowl of lagman soup, bread and a beer. The restaurant was abuzz with the chatter of Tajik truckdrivers and two landcruisers full of local bus passengers.  The only light bulb in the room flickered irritatingly and I understood why with the noise of a two stroke electricity generator howling away outside.

I got a few curious stares, but no-one interrupted my relaxation as I enjoyed every sip of the beer.  10 minutes later the truck driver I had met at thee Zigar police post walked in with his son – an apprentice truck driver I imagine – and joined me at my table.

I asked about the road.  Was it the Chinese?  No he said.  The Chinese roads are in the North of the country. This stretch was built by the Turks.  There is another road not far from here built by the Iranians.  It seems with Tajikistan being the poorest country in the former soviet union, everyone is trying to gain influence by donating roads and the like.  The Russians are currently building a 2 billion dollar hydro dam for the Tajiks which will generate all the power the country needs.  It makes sense when you are the most mountainous country on earth, to generate power by hydro methods – but the capital costs are pretty huge.  Thats where the Russians come in.  So Russia, China, Irana and Turkey … are vying for influence here.

We spoke about the road ahead.  He said this good road continued to Egar, halfway from Khostav to Kalaikhum, then fell back a bit, but still a load better than the road prior to Zigar.  The road from Kalaikhum (where the main road joins the Panj valley) to Khorog was better again.  Not as good as this good stretch, but nothing like the ‘adventure’ to Zigar.

The truck driver said he would leave at about 4am, and expect to get to Khorog about 3pm.  I was hoping to be a bit quicker than that, and in any case, would not be leaving at 4am.

Above the restaurant was a dorm room.  I settled into a bed for the night.  The meal had cost me about 2 EUR and an extra EUR for the bed.

- – -

26.05.09

I awoke early … about 5am, and decided to get up and get an early start.  Half the trucks had already left.  They work pretty hard these Tajiks.  Road crews in the middle of nowhere working well into the darkness.  Truck drivers leaving at 4 -  5 am to get to where they have to get to.  I had a cup of tea, a head shower of sorts under their fresh water waterfall, packed up the baggage and was on the road soon after 6am.  The road was exactly as the driver described.  Fantastic to Egar and then fell back a few notches, but still good for 60 km/h.

The Panj river was still amazing me.  I had joined it at 600m.  By the time I reached Kalaikhum, I was up at about 1200m.  The whole way it had been white water … rapids for over 150 km.  I topped up with fuel in Kalaikhum and realised I had been getting excellent fuel economy on these mountain roads, despite thrashing the bike.  I was getting 24-25 km/litre (4.0l/100km).  That was great news as the Pamir region is not known for its abundant fuel.  As was usually the case in Tajikistan (Dushanbe being the exception) fuel came in a tub … and I bought it by the jar, dipped into the tub of petrol. It still under half a eur per litre, even out here in the wilds of Badakhshan.  I asked about the grade of fuel.  It was a silly question.  In Badakhshan there is benzin and there is benzin.  76 octane, 80 octane, 92 octane are irrelevant concepts here.  Fuel is fuel.  Take it or leave it.

Badakhshan is the huge autonomous region in the south east of Tajikistan, of which Khorog is the capital and only major town.  The population here is mainly Ismaili, and follow the Aga Khan.  The region is 100% mountains.  There are no plains in Badakhshan, and you need a special endorsement on your visa to come here.  I got mine with the visa in London for 50 quid, but I have heard you can get them in Dushanbe in a day for 30 USD.  The Ismailis are now one of the most serene branches of Islam but that wasnt always the case.  Back in the day of Genghis and co, the branch of Islam that is now the Ismailis was known as the Assassins.  They had fortresses all over Persia and surrounding regions and always got what they wanted … until they picked a fight with Genghis.  Destroying the Assassins was one of his main priorities after having taken over the lands of the Shah of Khwarezm.

I also noticed there was mobile phone reception on my phone in Kalaikum and stopped to check emails.

Eventually, after refuelling, email checking and police checkpointing, I was back on the road.  As promised, the road onwards to Khorog was a cakewalk compared to the pre Zigar road.  I took advantage of my early start and the relaxing road to photograph locals.  I had been told by everyone from Mad Max to Kazakh business friends that Tajiks were the most attractive people of all the central asians, and I found it very hard to disagree with that.  There is a strong persian bloodline running thru the Tajiks and the language is very close to Farsi, the language of Iran.  Quite a few of the Tajiks even looked distinctly european to me.  There is two different attitudes to being photographed here, divided sharply by sex.  The men and boys leap and jump in front of me as soon as I pull out a camera, while the women and girls who were previously smiling and friendly suddenly get camera shy and photographing them is quite a challenge.  I have found out that if I plead a little, the smiles return and I am allowed to take the photos.

Next stop, 250 km and 5 hours down the road from Kalaikhum was Khorog.  I stoped here for lunch and a fuel top up.  Again, plesantly surprised that I needed less than 10 litres to top me up for the past 250 km. By Khorog I had now climbed to 2100 metres.  I had followed the Panj river all the way from 600 metres.  The white water had continued to about 75 km before Khorog, at 1900 metres.  The last 75 km was characterised by a much calmer Panj, and a wider river valley.  There were a few slower sections, including some cool overhangs above the road, but in general, the road was good for 70-80 km/h on a motorcycle the whole way.

After lunch I left the standard pamir highway which heads north east out of Khorog towards Murgab, and instead continued on south, to follow a lesser road  (and the Panj /  Afghan border) to Ishkashim and round to the east after that.  Safran had told me this was one of his favorite regions on the motosyberia trip 2 years ago so I was enthused as to what this would bring for my bike and my camera.

35km south of Khorog I was asked to stop by a young girl who wanted me to meet her father.  I was making good time so I decided to take her up on it.  The village was Khaskhorog and her father was Yusuf, a professional tour guide and fluent english speaker.  Yusuf showed me his lovely Ismaili house, explaining its traditional design and said he would like to start taking in guests as well, since the crisis had affected the amount of tourists that needed guiding.

A neighbour’s kid came in to see what was going on and to my surprise the 12 year girl was blonde – naturally. Yusuf joked that the locals called her a russian, but in fact she was pure Tajik.  Yusuf’s own daughter had honey green eyes … and it kinds reminded me a little of that legendary fotograph taken during the Soviet Afghan war of the Afghan village girl with the piecing green eyes staring straight into the camera lens.  Yusuf invited me to stay the night, but it was still only 4pm and I am ever conscious of my time limit in Tajikistan.

He is a lovely guy, and as a professional tour guide, knows everything worth seeing and how to get there in the whole Badakhshan province.  He is totally fluent in English and if you were coming to this area, you might want to stay at his place for the night – a traditional Badakhshan home, and get the full take on what to see, how to get there and have the culture of the local Ismailis explained.  He has a mobile phone and if anyone needs his contact details, let me know.  Ah yes, he also told me that I had the wrong sim card.  I picked up a ‘Beeline’ sim card and in the remote areas, ‘Indigo’ is the best brand … so theres a tip from Yusuf for anyone coming to Tajikistan … get an ‘Indigo’ sim card.

As I departed Khaskhorog, I thought to myself I must return to Tajikistan, with more time.  Safran said that he too would like to come back here.  Perhaps I can convince him to return in summer 2011 for a whole month and really tear this place apart … because its very quickly become one of my favorite countries in the whole world.  Like Switzerland, with really bad roads and about 5% of the price – and much higher mountains, steeper valleys, and people who wave at you as you ride down the main streets of the villages.  My left arm is about to fall off from all the waving so far in Tajikistan.

The road south was not as eventful or dramatic as I had anticipated.  Still every scene was a postcard, but I have to say that nothing compares with what I saw of the Panj valley between Shurabad and Zigar.  That was the most dramatic scenery and road I have ever seen. (thanks Pieter)

I passed thru Ishkashim, where I saw a bridge across the Panj to Afghanistan.  T was told there are 3 crossings in Badakhshan to Afghanistan.  One just outside Khorog, one just outside Ishkashim and one near Langar, a bit further on.  If I had more time, I would have tried to pick up a visa in Khorog at the Afghan consulate and try to pop over on the bikes, if just for an hour or so.  Maybe another idea for 2011.

I passed a old fort on the right off the road.  Yusuf had told me to keep an eye out for it.  It predates the great game in which the Russian and British jockeyed for control of this region.  The British got Afghanistan and the Russians got Tajikistan … but all things come to pass and now neither of them have either of those territories.  Prior to the great game, this region (and northern Afghanistan across the river) belonged to the Emir of Bukhara … and it was his mud brick fort that now is slowly eroding away.

I stopped for the night at Vamg, a small village about 5km before the larger town of vrang.  I saw a sign on the road pointing to a “homestay” here and popped in.  I had been following the Panj River and the Afghan border now for over 24 hours.  I started at 600 metres and now I was at 2900 metres, 650 kilometres later.  I still have 30-40 km to go beside the river before turning north into the Pamir proper.  The river valley is very wide here, several miles across.  At various points earlier in the day it was no more than 50 metres wide, and an Afghan on the opposite bank could have thrown a stone and hit me.

Now I am in the Wakhan valley.  Across the valley to the South is the Hindu Kush mountains and the thin Wakhan corridor – 25km south of me is Pakistan.  North of me is the High Pamir.  Its an amazing place to be.  I have two days left in Tajikistan … I should make it to Murghab tomorrow, and Kirgizia the following day.

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23.05.09

It was 18 days ago when I last did serious miles on the bike and I woke up early today to recify that. The goal was Dushanbe … 500 km, one border and 2 high passes away.

Vlad came round at 8am to pick me up and take me to his garage where my bike was stored. I spent some time preparing my luggage and bike while Vlad zoomed off to do some errands and pick up a bolt and some hose clamps for me. By the time he returned, Zhenya had joined us and the boys decided they would ride with me to the Tajik border, about 100km south of Tashkent.

Despite best intentions to leave early, it was after 11am by the time we were all on the road and fuelled up. We got to the border about 12:30 and chatted to the Uzbek border police for the best part of half an hour before pushing onto the border itself. They had vague recollections of another motorcyclist coming thru here a few days earlier.  I said fond farewells to Vlad and Zhenya, the two young Tashkent bikers who had helped me totally while I was in Tashkent. The guys had been terrific and I knew I would miss their company and help. I entered the border zone and shut off my engine to hear their two Kawasakis screaming away in the distance, heading back to Tashkent.

Border formalities were simple and relatively quick. The Uzbek side naturally enough needed a ot of paperwork, but the Tajik side was a very simple passport stamp and a 5 day customs importation permit. Unfortunately 5 days is the maximum they can give at the border. He opened his logbook to prove it … sure enough every vehicle had been given only 5 days. I even saw the other motorcycle in there – a Russian called Gleb, on a Honda, 4 days ago.

By 2:45 I was on the road in TJ.
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Back in Tashkent and ready to go, but as is often the case after a delay, a check of my documents revealed a snag. My Kirgiz visa has only 4 days left on it … no problem if I was exclusively going to Kirgizia on my way to Almaty, But I want to go to Tajikistan and the Pamir first … and it will be 7-8 days at least before I am out of Kirgizstan.  So  I spent yesterday running around filling in forms queueing and making exhorbitent payments into banks accounts for the Kirgiz consul.  The upshot of it is I should have a new visa ready to collect by close of business Friday, allowing me to get on the road by Saturday morning.

Today was a chance to play with the bike, and take it out for a ride to Chimgan, high in the mountains, near the Kirgiz border.  I had really missed the bike.  Vlad had arranged for my front fairing to be professionally repainted in my absence.  Its now looking better than all the other panels … but for how long.

Up at Chimgan, I saw a small glacier about 2km off the main road.  I needed a off road goon about on the bike, and a few quad trails in the general direction of the glacier were all it took for me to tell Vlad and his friend Gali to wait for me … i had to get some gooning out of the system.  As it happens the glacier-ette was rideable in its lower stages.  There was a lot of grit and rocks in the ice and that provided enough traction

Late Friday update … got the Kirgiz visa late this afternoon. Also killed time today by going to a hairdresser and spicing up my haircut with an uzbek boyband look. The things you do when you have been too long on a motorcycle! For a few moments i even contemplated the mondo enduro look, going surfer bleach blond, but only for a few minutes. I never for a minute considered the ‘Claudio’ look from Ulan Ude. So the Uzbek boy band look it is.

Rock on !!

Tashkent:  09.05.09

(note track maps now updated in the Trip Data section)

One of the principles behind choosing the overall route was where possible I was going to try routes that I felt were lesser travelled or untravelled by western motorcycle travellers … in doing that, documenting them will expand the knowledge base on sites like Horizons Unlimited.  I also had the chance to explore some regions that have had a long standing interest to me, like the North Caucasus, Kalmykia et al.  So this is a chance to review some of those routes as alternatives for those planning on heading out on the great trek east, to Mongolia, Vladivostok, Magadan or wherever.

Lets start with the Balkans.

Its a bit out of the way for most people heading east thru Ukraine, but our experience in the Balkans was very good.  Inexpensive food, accomodation, great biking roads, plenty of good fuel and a real sense of adventure going thru places like Albania give the Balkans a real thumbs up from me.  Sure there are a couple of highlights heading thru Czech Republic and Slovakia, but in general its all over very quickly and its all very tame.  The Balkans was better preparation for conditions in the CIS, while still remaining very close to EU countries in case of problems.  Borders were no problems at all … very quick, and the only  point I would make is definately take a green card from your insurance company.

Crimea:

Certainly more interesting that the Ukraine in general.  Ukraine lasks the diversity of Russia and for me is just one of the countries I push thru on my way to Russia, tolerating the overzealous cops and border officials as par for the course.  (in terms of dodgy cops and border officials, recent years has seen a marked improvement on the Russian side, while the Ukraine is still dodgy as you like … such that Russia is notably more transparent, open, efficient and less corrupt than Ukraine)  Perhaps the main areas of interest in Ukraine are the Carpathian mountains in the east and Crimea in the south.  I missed the Ukrainian Carpathians (having seen them in Romania) and the interesting scenery and ethnic history of Crimea definately helped break up the Ukraine.  Travelling that way also allowed me to head pretty much directly into the Caucasus once I entered Russia.  Also found a cracking bike mechanic in Yalta … that alone could be a reason to have Crimea on a route east.  Any teething problems can be nipped in the bud there at Valera’s place.

North Caucasus:

This has largely been avoided by western bikers, partly because of a lack of knowledge about what is there and to a lesser degree a fear about safety.  I hope this blog has shown how much interesting peoples and cultures can be found between Adegeya in the west and Dagestan in the east.  On top of that you have Europe’s highest mountain range.  Considering how dull a long ride across Russia can be if you stick to the main routes I personally thing taking in interesting regions like the North Caucasus should be compulsory.  The last thing you want from Russia is an endless chore of just eating up miles for the sake of getting across the country … one of the most interesting counties in the world in terms of both peoples and geography.  If I could only recommend one thing from this trip so far, its to go to the North Caucasus, with a bit of knowledge about the region and you will get a hell of a lot out of it.

The Beyneu Route:

The two main routes to  central asia for western motorcyclists are to go via Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan or to go down Kazakhstan thru Aktube to Chimkent.  There are plenty of reasons to look for alternatives, such as the Beyneu route I took.  (a) the ferry from Baku to Turkmenistan has no schedule.  Its not unheard of to wait 3-4 days for the ferry, spend a day or more on the ferry and then wait in harbour at Turkmenistan end for another 2 days before unloading.  On top of all that uncertainty, Turkmenistan may give you a 5 day transit visa, and may insist on a tourist visa.  The Tourist visa requires you to be escorted thru the country at great expense.  in any case, the visas are not that easy to get, and the only thing worth seeing in the country is the Darvarza burning crater, I can think of 100 reasons not to travel thru Turkmenistan.

(b) travelling via Aktyubinsk (Aktube) means you miss the highlights of Uzbekistan.  You wont see Khiva, Bukhara or Samarkand.  You wont see Khwarezm or the Karakalpaks.  Of the 5 central asian republics, 3 are countries I reckon you definately want to see … Uzbekistan for the culture and food, and Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan for the mountains and mountain roads.  Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan are (in my book) “missable”.

Putting that all together, and the route through Beyneu should be the main route.  The route of first instance !  I would recommend it.  The Kazakh side is pretty dull, but you do get to take in all the interesting bits of Uzbekistan without going out of your way.  And it is a route that is reasonably well used by Russian and Kazakh bikers!

Tashkent, 05.05.09

After the long ride into Bukhara, Andrei, myself and the other 4 Russian bikers from Samara meet up for a late hotel breakfast before heading into downtown Bukhara by Taxi.  The plan was to spend most of the day seeing the sights. Like Khiva the previous day, Bukhara had its heyday when the Moslem world was at its peak.  It was the only conquered city that Genghis Khan bothered entering after capturing it, such was its fabled beauty.  (Usually he just allowed his troops to pillage and plunder the enemy city).  But enter Bukhara he did and was said to be struck with awe upon seeing the Kalyan Minaret.  It still stands today and the square in which is stands is a stunning sight.  We decided that despite motorcycles (nor any other vehicles) not being allowed into the square, we had to chance it, come back with the bikes and try to shoot off a couple of shots before we got chased out of the square.

It was after 5pm when we finally had done our sightseeing, returned to the hotel, showered and continued our ride south east.  I had been heading south-east since Atyrau, over a week ago.  We only got 200 km done before it was getting dark with threatening rain, thunder and lightning.  Rather than get soaking wet in the dark, we decided to pull into a chaikhana, get some food and a room for the night.  The room was free, we just paid for the food (mostly shashlik), but as usual, there was no running water.  6 of us and a lot of riding gear slept on the floor of that dusty room!

We all woke early on the morning of the 5th May, packed up the gear and were moving by 7:30 am. I had hit the end of the long ride south east.  From our overnight camp, we were going to be heading north east, through Shakhrisabz, Samarkand and Tashkent.  As we approached Shakhrisabz there was something else I hadnt seen for a long time … mountains.  Since leaving Elbrus weeks ago I had been riding across flat plains, endlessly, broken only by the short descent down the cliffs that market the end of the Ustyurt Plateau.  Here between Samarkand and Shakhrisabz was the far western end of the Tien Shan.

We stopped in Shakhrisabz to visit an old Mosque from the 13th century which has a tomb which purports to house (or previously housed) the body of Tamerlane.   (see photos section) Samarkand also purports to hold his body so not sure which is which.  More research needed.  Tamerlane (Amir Temur) was an central asian warlord who falsely claimed descent from Genghis in order to legitimise his claims to greatness.  As powerful he became in his realm, he never amassed enough power to threaten Europe or China the way other steppe warlords like Genghis or Attilla did.  Accordingly, he really doesnt add up to a hill of beans in my book!  But the Uzbeks think he was pretty cool, probably since he was one of them.

Andrei and I left the others in Shakrisabz and headed into the hills.  Here poppies grew wild beside the highway and in the fields… it was a subtle reminder that we were less than 2 hours away from Northern Afghanistan – the worlds biggest source of poppies.   We had to cross a pass up at 1660 metres to get to Samarkand.  On the way we passed a number of nice looking chaikhanas.  Since we hadnt had breakfast, we decided to stop off for some food and some tea.  We found a great place halfway up the mountain, ordered some shashlik for breakfast, and waited for the others.  By the time the others arrived, we were sprawled out in the sun and fresh mountain air, eating the best shashlik of the trip, and drinking tea while a waterfall behind us provided the background music.  It was about as idyllic as it gets.

After brunch, we crossed the pass, and headed to Urgut.  It was a town Max (the central asian guru) had recomended to us, but Max was no longer with us, and we were unable to raise him by telephone.  So we headed to Urgut with no idea what Max wanted us to see there.  We took a side road up to 1300 metres high up in the mountains above Urgut, but didnt see anything out of the ordinary so left to head back down the mountain and on to Samarkand.  I did notice that in this region there are a lot of non Uzbek looking faces.  I assumed they were Tajiks and this was confirmed in Samarkand, a city with a large Tajik population.  Pretty much all the nationalities I have run into since the North Caucasus (with the exception of the Russians of course) have been Turkic or Mongolic or a mixture of these two main bloodlines that have dominated central asia since history began recording such things.  But the Tajiks are different.  They are not Turko-Mongolic but are closely related to the Afghans and look less oriental as a consequence.

A brief diversion again … a common error is comfuse Turkic with Turkish.  Turkish refers to people from Turkey.  Turkic refers to a bunch of related peoples that stretches from Yakutsk region in the North and east to Turkey in the west.  Turkic peoples are believed to originate in western Mongolia, and in the Altai region of Russia.  Todays “Turkish” people are the just the western turkic peoples who took over Asia minor, and interbred with the middle eastern and european peoples living there, thus taking on their less Asiatic appearance.  But the Turkic homeland is right next door to the Mongol homeland.

Samarkand is one of those places that looks great in the photos but Max had warned me not to expect too much.  The sights are not located together and there is no “old city” such as there is in Bukhara and Khiva.  I made my mind up that I was just going to see the world famous “Registan” and hit the road to Tashkent.  Max had a number of biking buddies in Tashkent and I had more luggage rack problems.  The location of the problems in the luggage rack makes it crystal clear to me they came from the lifting of the bike by the luggage rack.  The side bags themselves have been no problem at all since Zhenya the Kalmyk Biker sorted them out properly in Elista over a week ago, but now both sides of the rack have broken, in the same sort of place, just days apart.  Considering one side bag is twice as heavy as the other, (the bag that goes on the  fuel tank side is packed lighter) it clearly isnt from the bags.  In any case, I would try and fix the rack properly in Tashkent.

We found the Registan easily enough, but our attempts to gain entry by dodgy means were foiled by a sharp eyed Uzbek Babushka.  Time was running short in any case, and Andrei and I just thought “stuff it”, and hit the road out of Samarkand, north east to Tashkent, arriving on the outskirts of Tashkent just before dusk.  We grabbed a kilogram of freshly picked strawberries from some old uzbek ladies selling them at the side of the road, then telephoned Zhenya, our biking contact in Tashkent (courtesy of Max) and waited for him to come and lead us thru the streets of Tashkent.  Zhenya had a big garage at his place where we could store the 5 extra bikes and had arranged an apartment for us 5 minutes away.

We caught up with Max at Zhenya’s.  Max had arrived 24 hours earlier and had managed to find a metal worker to manufacture an all new rear sprocket which he fitted while we queued to jam the 5 bikes (plus Max’s, plus Zhenya’s 2 bikes) into Zhenya’s garage before taxiing back to the apartment Zhenya had teed up.

Russia and the FSU is great like that.  If you really need a part (like a sprocket) they can just make one within 24 hours, almost anywhere.

03.05.09, Bukhara

Max had insisted on a strict schedule. Three alarms went off around 5:30 as we prepared for a big day on the road. Our Kungrad host brought us breakfast and bottled water as we prepped the 3 BMWs in his dusty “back yard”. By 7:45 we were on the road. By 9am we had left Karakapakia and entered Khwarezm. Khwarezm is the lush green oversized oasis created by the Amu Darya river splintering into a bunch of different branches that over centuries have acted as irrigation canals. This Oasis in the desert is 300 km long and 100 km wide and is densely populated with several large cities crammed into it. Its also green. I hadnt seen grass or trees since the Ural river and Atyrau 1000 km ago. It made a nice change and a refreshing burst of colour to see rice paddies, poplar trees lining the highway, as they do so often in central asia

Khwarezm also plays a key part in the whole Genghis Khan story, that this trip (and frankly any trip to Central Asia) bumps into again and again. It was the then Shah of Khwarezm that brought Genghis into Central Asia. In those days Khwarezm was an enormous empire, covering most of central asia and much of Iran as well. It was one of the richest Muslim states in a time when the muslims and Chinese were really the only “wealthy” or even “educated”people on earth. The Shah didnt so much as ask Genghis to pop by next time he was in the area; rather he captured a Mongol trade caravan and then executed the 3 ambassadors Genghis had personally selected and sent to investigate the seizure. Genghis responded as only he knew how, and took on an army over twice the size of the Mongols’ 100,000 strong force.

You can guess who won … Genghis Khan is a household name, but the Shah of Khwarezm is not, and he died a hunted man, from exhaustion and cold on a nameless Caspian sea Island, after he had earlier fled to Urgench (now todays Konye-urgench).

Max took us to the best preserved old city in Khwarezm, Khiva, where we stopped for 5 hours for lunch and sightseeing … I will let the pictures tell the story.  Max left early. He needed to get to Tashkent and sort out his sprocket, while Andrei and I enjoyed Khiva.

We hit the road a 5pm and rode for 5 hours to get to Bukhara, where we met up with some of Andrei’s biker friends from Samara, who had started a couple of days before us.  We met up at 11pm at the hotel Max recommended but it was full, so we found another place on the outskirts of town and got 3 rooms for the night.

It was the longest day on the road so far and racked up well over 700 kms. I am now over 64 degrees east, and have racked up almost 11,500 kms.

Karakalpakia, 02.05.09

As promised, yesterday evening the two Russian bikers, Max and Andrei, turned up in Beyneu. Mad Max is technically a Kazakhstani, hails from Uralsk in the far North West of Kazakhstan, but is a Russian. Speaking of Uralsk, its a city I went through 15 years ago and I remember it as its on the Ural river, the river that marks the border between Europe and Asia. In the North, its marked by the Ural mountains, further south its marked by the Ural River. Atyrau, which I passed through a few days ago, is another city that straddles the Ural river. Uralsk and Atyrau, both in Kazakhstan, are evidence that Istanbul’s claim to be the only city to span two continents, to be a Turkish fantasy. Both Aralsk and Atyrau have monuments to Europe and Asia on both sides of their bridges.

Max turned up on his 1995 vintage BMW G650 Funduro, and Andrei, a Russian from Samara, on a similar vintage BMW R1100GS. Max is a veteran of touring around central asia, and Alyosha assured me he knows all the good petrol stations, cafes, hotels etc en route. Petrol Stations?? Apparently yes. Both Max and Alyosha told me many Uzbek fuel stations (especially out in the sticks) dilute their fuel with anything from urine to straight water. After a dinner of plov and beer, Max, andrei and I deecided we would travel the 400 km to Kungrad (Konghirat in some transliterations) together and work it out form there. We were all going to Tashkent, but I wanted to go to the Karakalpak town of Muynak, on the former shore of the Aral Sea. But one thing was for sure, the route was the same for the first 400 km, so we will do that distance and think about it after that.

We left at 7:30 the next morning, topping all the fuel tanks in Beyneu, and the 10 litres of reserves each carried by both Max and Andrei. It was about 60km by gravel road to the last Kazakh town of Akjigit, where we would again top up the tanks (only 3 litres each) with 80 octane fuel. Uzbekistan is not flush with petrol like Russia, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan are. There would be no fuel for almost 400 km, at the Uzbek town of Kungrad.  (Uzbekistan has ‘gas’ but no oil, and many cars, particularly in the north west, run on LPG … every fuel station has LPG or gasoline as they call it, but ‘benzin’ or proper petrol, is very hard to find in the north west.  Bukhara, Samarkand, Tashkent etc fuel is no problem)

The border opens at 9am and we timed it such that we arrived at 5 mins past 9. The border was probably the most primative border crossing I have seen in years, and it was in the middle of nowhere, but the uzbek side was still full of money changers, chaikhanas and photocopy wagons (many doncuments need to be photocopied before they will be accepted by the Uzbek officials. I think we did well and were through by soon after 11 … a mere 2 hours. Max recommended a chaikhana that he always used when he crossed at this border and we were served chai by the Korean lady who ran it. Uzbekistan (and to a lesser extent Kazakhstan) has a huge Korean population. This goes back to Stalin’s times. To avoid any potential conflicts of interest, he moved the Korean population within the USSR’s borders from near the Korean border areas to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.

We also managed to buy some Uzbek currency, the Sum. Uzbekistan is a long way behind Kazakhstan in terms of economic development and bankomats are not at all common here. (I am told there is one in the country, in Tashkent.)  In any case, we were 500 odd km from the nearest city and over 1000 from Tashkent. There are about 2500 Sum to the EUR, and the largest note is 1000 sum. Any money you carry is therefore effectively in 40 EUR cent pieces. I changed enough money to last me 4 days or so and felt I needed a backpack to carry it.

While it may lack in terms of economic development in comparison to old sparring partner Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan makes up for it in terms of culture. Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand are old silk road cities with well preserved historical sections, and Uzbek food is both tasty and well known in the former USSR. There are hundreds of Uzbek restaurants in Moscow, but I have never seen a Kazakh restaurant there.

By the time we left the chaikhana it was midday. We still had well over 350 km to cover to get to the nearest fuel, over a boring straight flat road. We had decided over our chai that Andrei and Max would join me in going to Muynak, and I would stay with them till Tashkent. So first step was to get to Kungrad and Muynak. But not before the Uzbek police pulled us over at the first town to pay the Uzbek ecological tax!

60 km before Kungrad, Max spotted a possible shortcut to Muynak. It was not marked on any of our maps, but Max had a hunch that the side road would get us to Muynaq. We asked a passing uzbek motorcyclist if he could confirm any of this, but the guy just kept nodding. He was either illiterate, stupid or both. We had a vote. Max and I were in favour of giving it a go so we took the turn. 40 km later we came to the edge of the Ustyurt Plateau. All day we had been between 120 and 150 m above sea level on a completely flat plain hundreds of kilometers long, but once we hit the end of the plateau, it dropped like a cliff, 100 metres lower. this cliff extended as far as the eye could see in both directions. It was a really dramatic sight. Soon after the cliffs, the road petered out. We had to go in a different direction anyway and began looking for tracks. Muynak was 55 km away in a straight line and as the largest population centre within about 100 km, there had to be a track there.

Muynak is a Karakalpak town that was once on the edge of the Aral sea. The sea is now over 150 km away, thanks to a failed soviet development plan. The two great rivers that drain the Pamir and Tien Shan mountains, the Amy Darya and Syr Darya, (known to the ancients as the Oxus and the Jaxartes) fed the Aral sea with fresh water. The soviets diverted most of the water to develop a cotton industry in Uzbekistan and at times no fresh water reaches this sea in the middle of the desert. Not surprisingly, since about 1960, the sea has shrunk dramatically, the salt levels in the remaining water have become so salty that fish can no longer survive in it.

For centuries, the Karakalpaks have lived on the south shore of the Aral sea, fishing and living off the sea. Now that is all history and the Karakalpaks have become among the poorest people in Central Asia. The Karakalpaks (literally Black Hats) are notably more mongolic / oriental than the average Uzbeks, and despite having their own autonomous republic, they are a minority here – most of the people who live in Karakalpakia are Khoresmian Uzbeks. Karakalpaks are closer to the Kyrgyz and the Tuvans than they are to the Uzbeks. I wanted to see Muynak as it is a proper Karakalpak town and its also the home to the Aral Sea fishing fleet, now rusting ship hulks in the desert.

Max, using his central asian experience and intuition, found the track and we headed off for the 50 km thru a no-mans land that was once at the bottom of a sea (only 50 years ago). It was a challlenging track and Max’s chain came loose (as I have seen happen on F650s before – Andy P, diring the 2007 Pyreknees Up) jamming into his engine housing. A bit of brute force and the chain was back on, but his cheap chinese rear sprocket had a unpleasant kink in it that was constantly threatening to derail his chain again. We limped the last 25 km into Muynak, passing a few Karakalpak villages on the way before catching up with the rusting ships.

We had hoped to get to Khiva today, but the “special” stage across the wilds near Muynaq meant we had added a few hours to the day. The sun set as we made our way into Kungrad, and we headed for a simple place Max had stayed at before. It was the second water-less place we had stayed at in a row (Alyosha’s place in Beyneu had no running water). Mobile access has not really existed since we crossed into Uzbekistan. Foreign sim cards are mostly not working out here. Andrei and I are both considering buying Uzbek sim cards tomorrow to keep up with the world.