Ferry from Baku to Aktau

Jules — Sat, 26 Oct 2013 15:06:41 +0000

Catching a ferry from Baku to Aktau appears complicated. Li my hero navigator has researched, read many, many blogs…..and attempted to read the finer details on line, in Azeri and Russian……even with the difficulty of translating…..there are no finer details.
So the process……we arrived in Baku as quickly as our legs would allow, giving us 2 more weeks on our Azeri visas to play the deciphering and more expectantly, the waiting game.
The first full day in Baku we apply for our Uzbekistan visas, and $US 75 later (for both Australian and British citizens ) we are granted visas without a hitch. Finding the embassy has been difficult for our predecessors so we take a taxi to avoid delays.
Day 2 we cycle in search of an unsigned, unmarked hut at one of the many ports. Again, thanks to a fellow touring cyclists blog and detailed directions and photographs the only difficulty is negotiations with the traffic. We locate the mysterious ticket office and are told to phone or come back tomorrow.
We plan to avoid Iran due to the new requirements of acquiring a guide so our only options are cycling through Russia….no…..fly……no……or catch a cargo ship to Kazakhstan …..this idea suits us well and we acquired visas in Tbilisi. (100 lari for me, 200 lari for Li.) But the ships only set sail once fully loaded and there is absolutely no schedule. We could wait 1 day…..or as others have done……2 weeks for a boat.
In the morning having been blessed to have met a Russian speaking English cyclist, she phones the ticket office to enquire for us…….and a ship is leaving “today”. This is far quicker than expected, our laundry is wet, we have not bought food supplies, and will need to purchase tickets at the hut and negotiate the city and cycle to another port in time……time for what, we do not know……no one knows no matter what language you speak. The ship will sail when it is ready and may take 18 hours to cross the Caspian Sea, the longest account we could find….96 hours…..dependant upon the weather and port authorities so we need food and water for the duration.
We arrive late at the hut……Li’s directions are spot on but we struggle for 45 minutes to cross 12 lanes of fast moving traffic. The secretary that sells the tickets is notoriously horrible……not so to us. I like her

Chaotic and dangerous

Jules — Sun, 20 Oct 2013 14:47:10 +0000

Chaotic and dangerous. That, apparently is the condition of traffic riding into Baku. Actually I found that Azerbaijan…..ok…and Turkish….Men… Are chaotic and potentially dangerous. Riding into Baku was relatively easy, at least with Li’s expert navigational skills.
We have had mixed feelings in Azerbaijan. A days riding, the landscape, the weather, changes dramatically……beautifully. So too the towns and villages change dramatically, modern, clean, sparse, ancient, traditional……time honoured.
We cycle through one village, mostly women baking bread in tandoors on the side of the road….every 10 to 50 meters….the same produce, the same smiles, golden smiles, golden teeth. We are invited to cay, tea, pleasantly….by a woman.
Our first village….the men are excitable….excited….staring…..over familiar……we become…..to my standards, rude. We ignore…..move on…..ignore….move on. At one point, getting dark, middle of nowhere we hide behind a tree waiting for cars to pass and find camp. 5 men stop, approach…..I feel bad but it’s late, we are desperate for a safe camp, we ignore, move on. Angry, annoyed…..but mostly feeling unsafe. Hide and sleep in prickly thicket.
The landscape continues to entrance while we fly through towns wishing anonymity.
Our fourth night, the moon is almost full the sun just setting, I am in love with life, the scenery…..how romantic, a man cantering on horse back approaches us…….wanting sex. He goes and he comes again. We deliberate. We eat…..I the hungry cyclist can not eat…..throw away half my meal and pack up camp. In the dark we ride, we do not generally ride in the dark, but we ride to a cay house we spotted in the distance and we ask for refuge.
We are given a room, a dining room out the back, shown how to lock the room…..but the lock does not work. The men seem ok. We join them for drinks. In Azerbaijan you get vodka in 3 litre cardboard casks! I feel safe, the drinks can’t be spiked from a cask.
……and I can sport a shot gun….actually the men…..apparently police!….but I am not convinced, were very excited about their guns. Short of conversation I bought out our “point it” dictionary. Pictures of rabbit resulted in my journey to a car to inspect a gun…..more vodka, and time to shoot. We declined going hunting…..too tired , gesturing our bikes. More vodka, the car, the gun…….rather thrilling but in retrospect….. My, oh my…..if a car had been traveling in the guns path……photos. I note the cartridge taken from the gun, even in my drunken state…..I am aware and do not like the potential. Photos….. Man points at Li with the camera…..No…from me….No…..from man that owns the gun. No more pointing, I take and hold the presumably empty gun.
Bed…..too drunk…..hazy…..but I am sure one man enters the room…..ah…..a sleeping bag is not easy for another to enter…..slightly ashamed as I vomit….a room given freely. Man is angry, but no ideas of sex….. He hoses and destroys the carpet. We lock the room with our bike locks and drunkenly pass out.
In the morning we are asked to pay US$500 for cleaning. “I have no money” We are asked to pay $100. I ride a bicycle, I have no money. We leave and I am both angry that I messed up our free room, angry at myself, that I got , so, so drunk, and angry that even in supposed refuge, around men, we both feel so unsafe. My pepper spray cap is missing, but I was too drunk to remember where, or how?

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Ferry from Baku to Aktau

Chaotic and dangerous