Bamboo Odyssey » Kazakhstan | Bamboo Odyssey

Therm-a-rest fiasco

Jules — Mon, 27 Jan 2014 07:55:34 +0000

It could have been grounds for divorce. Sleeping next to someone on a defunct camping mat…..the “f”ing and “b”ing…. The thrashing…. In bed, out of bed….tossing. More “f”ing….. tantrums…are you sure you are ok…’YES!’….thrashing…blowing air in….letting air out. No matter how comfortable your own bed….sleeping next to this……so we took it in turns sleeping upon a deteriorating mat in deteriorating camping conditions.
What I am writing about is our faulty Therm-a-rest NeoAir Trekker mattress. Li’s faulty “f”ing mattress.
For most campers or maybe festival goers, the delamination of a sleeping mat is no big deal. A couple of baffles may come apart, a wee hernia of sorts. In the average situation it will be a day or two sleeping upon a bubble, most likely comfortable summer evenings, maybe spring,…..maybe you are even too drunk to notice. After a few days you return home to your real….really comfy, bed…and at your leisure, arrange a replacement mattress under warranty.
I have had 2 mattresses delaminate in the past. Maybe I should have noticed the warning bells…..as one of the mattresses was a Therm-a-rest NeoAir Trekker which delaminated after a handful of uses. I sent it to the company and had a replacement sent out to me within a 2 week turn around. Therm-a-rest make quality products and do have a good limited lifetime warranty……but when you are on the road?
The Neo Air is incredibly lightweight in relation to the comfort. For a similar weight to mass ratio I have had self inflatable mattresses in the past but the comfort is incomparable. Self inflating mattresses are around 2-3 cm thick….the Neo Air…6.3 cm thick. Li and I both found this mattress more comfortable than many beds we have slept upon and decided it would suit us for 12 plus months on the road at only 480 grams and very compact.
Blowing up the mattress by mouth is not so much fun, and cycling for months has not appeared to make filling the mattresses with air any easier on our lungs. We opted out on several pump options due to weight and one more minute of huffing and puffing really doesn’t add much more to what we are doing from one hour to the next hour, cycling day to day.
Others reviewers of the NeoAir Trekker complain about noise when moving or turning over upon the mattress but I don’t find the noise significant. No louder than the rustling of the sleeping bags and a lot quieter than snorting wild pigs and cackling jackals. The mattress provides a blissful sleep.
The mattress fabric appears thin and we expected to have to patch some holes during our adventure. Again this was nothing to worry about with holes being no more difficult to repair than a bike tyre puncture. 10 months on the road and the fabric has proved robust and no patching has been necessary. It is also very easy to clean….and for the different seasons…carrying a space blanket for a ground sheet we were warm enough in well below zero degrees temperatures…..while the baffles were intact!
The NeoAir Trekker is a dreamy acquisition…..until the baffles “f”ing rupture. Aktau….the seam between two baffles burst….like a gun shot, loud explosion. We are surprised as the mattress had just been blown up with no weight upon it. Surprised by the “bang” and surprised about the malfunction. We were always careful not to overinflated it and in hot weather always let out some air, to avoid expansion.
Li emailed cascade designs (Therm-a- rest) enquiring about the lifetime warranty, explained our remote situation and asked if a photo would suffice? Even posting a letter from Kazakhstan, FedEx…..to endure a trouble free delivery…. would cost US$70.
As well as the cost we could not wait a months plus, turn around for Therm-a-rest to inspect the faulty mattress and forward on another. Also…..while the mattress was uncomfortable……and soon to become increasingly uncomfortable…..it was all we had…..We could not post it on and do without. The temperatures overnight were dropping drastically. Our water froze, our breath froze….our fruit…..we froze. There were no alternatives we could purchase and indeed carry in this part of the world and as the ground became like stone holding onto the mattress was our only option. Would Thermarest accept our photos and forward a replacement to await us in Almaty about a month’s ride from the time of the malfunction? No.
Would the mattress get worse….. Could it get worse….a great big….lots of “f”ing …YES. Every few nights in between the swearing, the cursing, cursing Therm-a-rest, the cold, cursing the frozen ground…..there was another explosion, and a following night, and another and another. This was meant to be stealth camping….instead drawing attention to some otherwise well hidden loonies appearing to be taking pot shots into the dark.
We both had alternative methods to try and find a peaceful nights sleep. Tying the ever increasing giant bubble in several places with rope to try and restrict its bulbous growth. Blowing it up firm so that the undamaged section did not deflate leaving hips, legs, feet upon the stone cold ground, the concrete of culverts, snow, mud…..each night some new experience of discomfort awaited. Another explosion. I tried tying the mattress together, folded in the middle….the baffles delaminating half the length of the mattress, in half….my upper body weighted the free flowing air like a water bed….and tossed me off continually. Li preferred to sleep with the mattress the other way around…..legs high in the air like a patient in traction…..and equally as bad tempered!
Would I purchase this mattress again….actually, Yes….but only if I can’t find a company with similar….even slightly less comfortable product, a company that will do everything they can to assist when you are on the road.
Is it reasonable for a company to send out a replacement….or try….maybe to the next reliable postal destination….without viewing the damaged item? Sea to Summit another great brand with great products will not.
Some companies do! We are very thank full to Topeak, Tout Terrain, and Portland Design Works. Even the best gear will break or malfunction when like us….they are tested to the limits.
In Hong Kong we bought a mediocre self inflating mattress just to tide us over….the faulty mattress has been returned to the manufacturer. A new replacement NeoAir Trekker awaits Li at her Mum’s home…..in London.

Traveling by bicycle

Jules — Fri, 24 Jan 2014 11:20:05 +0000

Have you ever been painfully attracted to someone…..but don’t particularly like them…..blissfully enthralled by their company.? That feeling for me, i can liken to the feeling of hill climbs when on my bicycle. But in between the lust there is the whole journey,….euphoria. A feeling so strong it can be like marriage, like being with someone You can not be without. I am in love…..not with Thailand which is beautiful, desirable, full of passion….. colour, taste, touch and smell….a country and people that can fulfil many persons dreams. Thailand is indeed wonderful.
But I am in love….. in love with riding my bicycle…..Travelling by bicycle. It is a difficult relationship….but in contrast….so easy. A country changes as you pedal with your own steam, while you don’t always have the time to see the “must” see tourist sights. The bleak and unmajestic becomes alive, blowing through your hair (when I am fast enough) blowing through your hair ( if the headwind is horrible enough) , muscles, joints, skin, mind, tingling with effort. And the people you meet….they all appreciate the effort. And You….you appreciate the effort so that everything is new, the unseen, forgotten or just ignored is in full bloom, vibrant and alive. One moment in the middle of undocumented nowhere becomes more impressive, more magical than any “wonder of the world”.
Sometimes I listen to music to help with the climbs….or take me from my monotonous mind…..so that when I pass a bar, cafe, blazing stereo from a car…. Or more likely rickshaw…when I hear a particular tune I am taken back in time. Once apron a time to the dance floor, a euphoric moment with friends, loving, happy memories…but now these memories are intertwined, I am taken back to a mountain pass in Turkey…..a desert plain in Kazakstan….I am taken back to a different, more lonely, individual but equally euphoric moment, a moment i will forever treasure of traveling on my bicycle.
I am still not particularly good at climbing, dreading the climb until I love it. I am not particularly good at riding long distances, just many, many short distances…..but what I am good at….I am good at….loving what I do….Yes, travelling by bicycle.

Uzynaghash, Kazakhstan

Jules — Mon, 06 Jan 2014 07:15:47 +0000

16/12/13

Waking to a colder morning would have been far preferable to waking up with the sun, to rain and an almost balmy zero degrees. Trying to keep our layers of clothing dry beneath our goretex, we packed up a very damp tent and set off amidst a steady downpour. Keeping warm in temperatures hovering around freezing is generally easy on the bike, always with the exception of our toes. On this day, slowly….sweat and dampness built up, a creeping and nagging discomfort, seeping droplets entering around the neck, between gloves and sleeves, eventually onto gloves and around the ankles. And my feet became increasingly cold. I wiggled my toes as we pedalled…..if not wiggling I tried to ignore my feet as I ignored the rain. Eventually I realised that to return the frightening lack of feeling to my feet and we had to stop and would make a cooked lunch. As the water boiled I paced up and down, up and down, and as my feet started to hurt I relaxed….pain a sure sign there was no frost bite. Putting on more layers of clothes, jumping up and down, quickly eating with hands wrapped around steaming hot pots, then layers off again, dry clothes back in our panniers and we were pedalling again.
The temperature did not rise and feeling rather soggy we imagined the luxuries of a hotel. Late in the afternoon it began to sleet and nearing Uzynaghash……we decided we definitely wanted a hotel. It was time to seek shelter, the only thing keeping us warm…..the constant workings of the pedals……and it began to snow…..thick heavy flakes…..flakes I generally love….and would so, if not for our wet predicament. We should be inside our tent, but…..so close to habitation.
A sign indicates…..4km off the main road. Turning off, the road becomes an obstacle of gigantic pot holes, mud, snow and ice. We are worried as we are now too wet.
The best we can manage with nil Kazak or Russian, we ask a lone farmer if there is a hotel……..No…..back on the main road…..a few kilometres further…..constantly scouring the landscape for a place to camp we come to another intersection and a different turn off for the same town. We spy a parked vehicle, the driver says yes there is a hotel 2km further on….another 4km…..yes, no, yes there is apparently a hotel. Covered in snow I realise it insulates and keeps me ‘toasty’ far better when I don’t brush it off……plus…..I feel…. if I ever survive this ordeal my metamorphosis into a snow man will make a damn good photo.
Very white, wet and very, so very cold in the moments we stop to discuss our options, we continue to cycle the slippery road circling the streets for about an hour to the alternate directions from various people. The snow becomes a foot deep…..the roads….puddles of slush and ice.
It is with relief that we finally find the hotel…..and stand in the falling snow for requested photos with a group of soldiers all wanting to shake our hands…..and then….stand….still…..in the snow…..pondering what on earth we are going to do? The hotel has absolutely no vacancies……It is full of soldiers done taking photos. It’s really dark….even colder ….. We are wetter and should have found shelter hours ago. Li begged a place on a floor, store room….anywhere?
We spy an undercover car park…..it would do….Li goes into the attached….heated…..very warm restaurant…..desperately requesting shelter and we are directed to another hotel.
We push the bikes through mud and slush…..wet wet wet feet…..and another hour…..no vacancies……directions to another hotel. I am the most frightened of any moment on our biking adventure.
Another hour…..we contemplate a park….the next hotel does not appear to exist and we are nearing the outskirts of the town. A car pulls over….not the first…. But finally….indicates we shoild follow….off the main street, no signage….the driver goes in side a building and talks to the occupants…..and we have our room.

Snow in Kazakhstan

Jules — Sat, 07 Dec 2013 05:59:43 +0000

Snow capped mountains have continued to fill our vision since re entering Kazakhstan. The sun does not poke it’s head out until 8am and it is dark by 6pm. The roads are pot holed and dangerous. Wild camping would be easy anytime but winter. The trees are void of leaves and provide little cover. Yet the landscape is absolutely beautiful. The sky is moody, alternating between black storm clouds and sun bursts that highlight the snow and turn the dry grass even more golden. Rivers again……sparkling silver reflections cutting through the land like a mystical serpent.
Just before Taraz the mountains are so close we see the wind whip at the snow upon the peaks in a light show as dramatic as the wind…….a tail wind!
Li has a cold and between limited daylight and the need to rest, our progress has been slow. One day we complete only 30km and were about to call it a day….the wind materialised and jubilant, we complete another 50km in just over an hour, trying to overtake the myriad of tumble weeds racing beside us.
The wind cleared as we pitched camp before gaining momentum again, battering the tent to a degree we have not experienced since camping on a precipice in Langres in France. But we were warm…..too warm, stripping off layers in the night…..I fell asleep to the sounds of rain.
Actually, not rain….snow. I had chilled again in the early hours and unwillingly stuck my head out of the tent ready for another day. I love snow…..forgot to put on more clothes in my excitement. Soon after doing a stupid dance….and star jumps, to regenerate heat and exhibit my happiness. Li was not so impressed…..maybe at my request to pop Lil Ted outside to also have a look. But she did humour me….Lil Ted was silent.
The snow and wind picked up, another tail wind, high vis clothes, snow goggles, all of our layers…..we cycled into Taraz in what proved a beautiful but challenging ride, hot……except for when we stopped.

Uzbekistan into Kazakhstan

Jules — Fri, 06 Dec 2013 13:39:14 +0000

Uzbekistan to Kazakstan. We entered at the pedestrian only crossing 25km past Tashkent. Maybe we would never have crossed the border had it not been for the guards clearing a passage for us through the surging crowds. The guards were not so gentle, at one point grabbing a man by the scruff of his shirt, yanking him as he moved in front of me. 2 women actually climbed over Li and her bike before I angled my bike and extended both arms as a barrier. The crowds were insistent in their forward motion, one woman fighting with a soldier toting a machine gun. She continued to yell, arm holding a stringed box as she strained towards Kazakstan. The man with the machine gun held strong to the string so they were at a stand still, her box in between. The soldier was young, the woman old and determined, both unpredictable, but I would not have wanted to go up against that woman, even with a gun.
With aid of the guards we were squeezed through, not a second thought of queue jumping as there was no queue.
Border control did not request to see our multiple slips of paper, registration slips and the reason we had decided not to ride large sections of Uzbekistan. Only hotels catering to foreigners will register you and there could be 400….500 kilometres between hotels. However riding to the border, we came to another of the hundreds of police check points across Uzbekistan. We were stopped…..passports……registration papers……they scrutinised every slip, counting and re counting the dates to make sure they added up. Our passports returned…..mine requested again, the police wanted to look at the Kangaroo on the coat of arms before we were sent our way.
Apart from travel blogs, there was very little up to date information about travel trough Uzbekistan. Even the Lonely Planet guides are 3 years old and out of date….but what information we could find warned of the dangers of the police, corruption, bribes, stealing passports, money, equipment not correctly declared on forms difficult to discipher. Were we carrying legal medication? We were somewhat scared,…..fears strengthened as we witnessed locals paying bribes to police on many occasions.
Fortunately we had no problems, passports checked only once during a bus journey despite constant stopping at road blocks.
Our equipment was x-rayed upon exit and with a friendly wave from the soldiers were moved on.

To cycle or not to cycle?

Jules — Thu, 21 Nov 2013 15:24:23 +0000

13/11/13

Our bodies are able…..’ish’…..but our minds….emotions?…..the past few days have been a roller coaster. Never, in what is almost 8 months on the road have either of us contemplated giving up…. Not seriously and not into a whole day, or several days of grief. It is today that these feelings began. The feelings….flat….failure….insecurity….. mistrust…. fear…. Feelings inside ourselves and towards others came as a sledge hammer hitting us both simultaneously, unfamiliar and disabling.
We had booked flights to Hong Kong for Christmas. We will take the bikes from Almaty to Hong Kong. Hopefully secure visas for China and planning to cycle back to Almaty in fairer weather. We reason that this is sensible, logical, but it feels slightly wrong.
Next we looked at our visa restrictions in Uzbekistan. 30 days, requiring to register our presence every 72 hours. About 500 kilometres to the first place of registration. For us this is impossible in current conditions. From Beyneu in Kazakhstan we make another unwelcome decision to take the train. Not every cycle tourist registers, handing over money to falsify papers….a very few are deported……we will play by the rules.
Purchasing tickets is problematic. Hours at the station, queue jumpers, elbows and fighting to get to the ticket window…. Find the price….go to the AtM (no credit card payments here)….back to the ticket office…. They will not sell us tickets. Voiceless, dejected, unable to hear, translate…. Why? We have no idea why, but without a ticket we decide to ride….
We set out early and struggle to pedal at 12 kilometres an hour with poor road surfaces and a head wind. My knee that has changed from a small niggle in past weeks is now painful after only 10 kilometres. We turn back towards Beyneu and try our luck at the train station again. With some difficulty in the queue that is not a queue but a battle ground Li purchases tickets for a train to Kungrad in Uzbekistan.
I look after the bikes, a small crowds of curious onlookers come and go.
We celebrate the tickets and make lunch…..children come and go…they want to wear our helmets, ring the bell….we watch but don’t watch well enough. The little b*******s, they steal our compass and mirror…..small things useless to themselves but priceless to our daily tasks, and impossible to replace in small town Central Asia.
We decide to remain 12 hours in the cold, till midnight watching our bikes rather than take refuge in the warmth of the station.
We try and forget the theft, forget we are not riding…..soak up the atmosphere that is Beyneu…..not much written in travel guides….not much written about this point of call at all but intriguing, different and for me well worth the visit. This is Kazakhstan. I need to go to the loo….ask strangers, gesture to strangers….no signs, no language, I waddle up and down the bazaar that was once such a treat when I had an empty bladder .I find the magical door just as I am close to tears, imagining I will be wet for an entire train journey. The toilet attendant….like almost all toilet attendants the world over, does not like me, barks at me…..but my pants are down…..I am relieved and tired with relief that we will soon be in Uzbekistan.
Back at the station, my turn to approach the station staff. Where, how go we get the bikes on the train? Someone is going to push in front if me….I nudge closer to the window….grit my teeth….I am angry and pissed off….fuelled by the theft ….I feel I will bite if necessary….I scowl….nudge closer….the man does not push in front.
I half expect to be dismissed but I am moved over to a newly opened window….my own window to commence a conversation via google translate. Men still try to steal my window, push in….but they are ignored. It takes an hour passing the phone, the translations, back and forth…my helper is in fits of giggles…..actually, hysterics…..I am giggling, relaxing….a few sentences takes an age….I am told
“To immerse the bike talk to the gods let money guide”
I go back to Li feeling strangely uplifted reporting not to worry and that we just need to give the conductor some money……and pray!
Hours, hours…. later, we make coffee on the platform, then beer…..my toilet is closed…..more searching, requesting…..the whole of Beyneu must know I need a toilet…….and the next attendant is nice to me….even when I walk in on a squatting man….then the woman’s communal squatting loo where I frighten another woman who I think assumed I was a man.
Back on the rather cold platform it becomes very interesting watching numerous vendors set up…..50kg flour bags…..alcohol…..sweets…..and we become very interesting to the locals…..I spy the thrives….chase them…..do not catch them.
Everyone is interested in our ticket….the conductors are not. We watch closely as a group of women look at our tickets… Pass them about…. a lot of discussion….and indicate this is our train. The conductors are still not interested. We do not know if it is our train…. The time is wrong.
The women take our ticket to some soldiers…. Lots of conversation…. The soldiers, border control……banging on the train door… Tickets becoming hard to follow….women, soldiers, conductor, soldiers. The Conductor slams the train door closed. Soldiers bang on door…. Door open, closed…. More banging on the door.
The soldiers indicate that this is our train and for us to bring our bikes and luggage. They help us up onto the train….. Through the train…. Onto tracks on the other side. What on earth is going on? There is another train hidden behind the first, stationary in the darkness. A small amount of English….. This is your train…..more waiting, the soldiers talk with another conductor…… Problem….. They will not accept the bikes. In English we can make small conversation with soldiers…. Offer money…. They disappear to talk to conductor…. We hand over 2000 Tenge and are assisted to load the bikes and luggage onto the train. Soldiers chat with us for a while, take passports, return passports and tell us conductors may ask for more money and not give any more.
We share a sleeping compartment with 2 Uzbek men who try and help us fill out a customs form in Russian. They offer tea and food. Tired we decline and the 4 of us go to sleep in our berths as the train departs. Around 1am, somewhere in Uzbekistan we are woken and asked for our passports. We are “informally” asked questions and returned passports 2 hours later. Go back to sleep. Later we are woken and asked for customs forms….. Hand them over and the 2 men in our department indicate we should sleep as customs officials continue to ask many questions. Our instincts are to trust the men and we go to sleep. About 4 hours after stopping we hear the train gently move on.
As the sun rises we wake to more desert, desolation, flat, sparse…. There is nothing out here. The men in our compartment hand us our customs forms, stamped without our luggage having been inspected…… Except “informally” by the one who initially collected our passports, customs form and wanted to see our kindle and steripen. We are relived as some tourist stories of border control and customs are problematic, involving bribes,hours of questioning and a full luggage inspection.
More desert. The men in our compartment are kind….. Give us breakfast and will not take any of our food in return. They help us with money changing. Check the amount is correct….. We can not help but be nervous…..help with the forms….. Declaring everything on the forms meant everyone knew our business, the amount of cash and valuables we were carrying.
Kungrad, Uzbekistan, time to depart, our instincts were right. We were not robbed and were instead assisted in taking all luggage and bikes off the train.
Our moods soar…. Then plummet. Frustration at our feelings of mistrust towards everyone. We ride off into desert that is now irrigated and somewhat fertile….. Oceans of fluffy grasses swaying, rising and swelling in the wind.
We have 2 nights to find a hotel, to register our presence in the vastness that is now Uzbekistan. Our moods are fragile. But there is a road…..actual asphalt and locals on bicycles!

Will we survive the cold?

Jules — Mon, 11 Nov 2013 04:53:05 +0000

Will we survive the cold in Central Asia? Will we enjoy it? Is it possible……passable?
On the ferry to Kazakhstan. “You are the last for the season”……well not quite as we know Ross and Laura other Brit and Aussie cyclists are not far behind…..hoping to catch up if visa dates are not so restrictive.
They were sensible enough to refuse joining us to ride the Pamir Highway…..more research and we have to give it a miss…..mountain passes will be closed, risk of avalanche…..freezing to death. We look at other options. We are still in Beynue…..making the most of the Internet to study our options…..there are not many. We planned to go to China…..very few border crossings, all at altitude or desert at -30 with no towns or shelter.
Who has done it at this time of year…..on bicycles……more research……not many. One blogger had to hitch thousands of kilometres.
There is not much daylight any more and there will be less. Currently the sun rises at 8am and we start looking for a camp by 4.30 as it is pitch black by 7pm. Stealth camping can mean no torches once it is dark so we huddle in sleeping bags till just before dawn. Less hours so we are not traveling as great a distance which is problematic with such short visas in Asia.
And the problem of where to get a Visa for China……all the capital cities within reach only issue visas to the residents of that country with the exception of possibly being issued a visa in Astana…..possibly……a 20 plus hour train ride to an embassy that may or may not issue a visa. We have been tossing up storing our bikes and flying to Hong Kong where the issue of a visa is more likely….where do we store our bikes?
Ok….look at our options again…..a second night in Beynue…..a third…..Li’s eyes tired looking at computer screen.
From Almaty only one air line is recognised as safe by EU standards…… Where can we fly to and maybe cycle back? Hanoi? Bangkok? More procrastinating…..disappointment….confusion. We look at options of having more cold weather gear posted to us…..almost as pricy as an air fair and less reliable.
Hong Kong is marginally the cheapest air fair……why not fly the bikes and cycle back?…..away from our final destination……it all feels bonkers…..but doable. First we shall ride to Almaty our second entry into Kazakstan.

Mangystau

Jules — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 04:03:59 +0000

After a few hiccups we did not leave Aktau until 3pm. Not such a big deal as we had already planned to stay until noon making the most of our hotel. We pedalled off on a lesser road to Shetpe. Travelling along what felt like an industrial waste land, the road quickly deteriorated and we followed power lines, a train line and gas pipeline into the starkness that was the desert.
I was feeling on edge, we knew finding ‘stealth’ camp sites was going to be difficult and I was feeling very, very exposed. Sooner than necessary we chose a place to pitch the tent….behind the pipeline and a few piles of rubble.
Fortunately we only traveled 36km as the next morning after another 2 km a car pulled us over enquiring as to where we were going. Much gesturing and crossing of arms later we understood the driver was saying the road to Shepte was impassable. We deliberated, looked at our map, looked at Google maps…..where the road mysteriously disappears about 30km before our first town….and turned back to Aktau. We would trace our steps, our pedalling, and take the longer route.
After Aktau, the road deteriorated further. The asphalt appeared fine, until we rolled, bumped….bumped, and jumped along it. The road was crazed and in places patched, thousands of patches never flattened down so that despite an absence of pot holes the road was slow and uncomfortable. Like cobble stones….irregular cobble stones. Occasionally we would be blessed with 10 meters, even 50 meters of a thin veneer of smooth bitumen but you could still feel many of the old patches underneath.
Again I began to feel edgy, where would we spend our night…..there was absolutely nothing, not a hill, tree, hump as far as the horizon. We descended into a valley situated well below sea level and as evening approached we noted a big climb back onto the steppe. Just before the climb a sign indicated a picnic area and small scrubby plants off the side of the road. We investigated. A small spring from the ground explained the plants but nowhere was invisible from the road. Li strolled off to further investigate the ridge we were soon to climb. She soon returned saying she had found the perfect camp spot. Puzzled….”but I could see you the whole time?”
“Can you see the 5 camels”
Well….”No?”
“Good…..then no one will see us”
“What about the camels?”
“There is plenty of room for all of us!”
The camels did not think so and wandered off as we descended into the banks of a dry river bed. Wild horses strolled the ridges as we pitched for another night.
…….more crap roads…..ferocious headwind. The wind was hindering, bitter, cold…..crap wind. Still on asphalt and so very slow. We took refuge in our music and after a 90 degree bend in the road, music and tail wind, we were feeling euphoric as we clocked 9000 kilometres on the odometer. We celebrated with a brief rest to watch the mechanical donkeys, oil and gas fields, and shortly afterwards an unexpected town to purchase some extra food and some beer. We requested and were given well water at the mosque.
With the beer we celebrated our next found refuge for the night. Our first experience of sleeping in a culvert, a small concrete tunnel directly under the road……after we cleaned out the fossilised human crap.
Shetpe…..our last chance to stock up on supplies, and we made our first purchase of water for the entire time we have been traveling. We knew there would be the occasional tea house and as it is getting cold we use less water so we only purchased two 5 litre bottles. We still had a small supply from Aktau.
Not far after Shetpe, about 30 km , the crap road ceased to exist and became a crap track. A very wide track as the 2 lanes became 6 as trucks and the fewer cars have over time worn a super slow ‘highway’ further and further into the desert, away from the centre of the “road” in an attempt to avoid the bumps and sand and dust holes and crevices of the original path. In places up to 7 further tracks weave their way in roughly the right direction, occasionally diverging and criss crossing and the traffic including ourselves, moves between all the lesser width tracks looking for the smoothest way forward.
Bull dust……Li thought I was making the word up, but the Oz outback is full of it…..this track was full of it, as were our eyes, noses, clothes, our underpants. Unlike sand it is not so abrasive, but gets in even more places, is sticky and cloying…..Especially in your mouth……We put on our ski goggles. Fortunately it was mostly shallow bulldust…..when not in the air…. and we rolled…..ok….bumped, relatively easily over most of it. In other places it was a foot thick.
We found another camp site between 2 hills above the road. It had been a beautiful day, riding in T-shirts. The temperature plummeted. As we finished our camp meal ice crystals formed on the remains. We woke struggling to remove the frozen caps of out water storage. Both 5 litre containers almost solid….we peeled our frozen bananas, packed away our frozen eggplant and remaining tomato for later on. Too cold to check the temperature over night it must have been our coldest yet going by the degree of ice. It was -2 when we climbed into the not so welcoming tent at 8pm.
More tracks, more wind, no wind, beautiful sun shine, even tail winds. The wind bought on the cold and we were in and out of layers of clothing as it picked up then abated. The wind chill could make a high temperature of 20 degrees feel like zero.
More culverts…..we slept in 6 tunnels under the road out of the ten nights. Mostly they were clean and a refuge from the wind, occasionally they became a wind tunnel. There was evidence camels had entered some, crawling on their knees which must be a sight. Their fur stuck to the small circular walls.
Despite the refuge from prying eyes I did not overly like sleeping in tunnels but I loved our desert adventure. The cold and our troglodyte adaption was well worth the extremes of experience. Starry nights void of all light pollution. Shooting stars. The sun rising, pinks, reds, blue hughes and camels silhouetted on the horizon. Picture books becoming reality, the real sounds of silence.
And occasionally the road became pure bliss, fresh new Tarmac for 20 kilometres or so, then tracks, then Tarmac. We rode on the unfinished road that is years from completion and joining up, but the small sections were a well earned break, briefly from the filling, teeth jiggling kilometre after very long kilometre to Beyneu…..our last town before Uzbekistan.