Uzbekistan........

Just after uploading my last post in Turkistan, including the photos, my phone died leaving me in the Catch 22 of being unable to translate the messages from Beeline, the network provider to see what the problem was. I nipped across to a hotel to see if WiFi was available and the friendly young receptionist said he would try and sort it out. He rang Customer Service and explained, as I had suspected, that my data had run out. He then very kindly topped up my balance with his card and I reimbursed him with cash including a decent tip which he was initially reluctant to accept.

The following morning I was away south heading to Shymkent but in that city had an unfortunate encounter with the police. Having pulled out of a junction I had to stop sharply at a set of lights and as they changed a patrol car pulled alongside, lights flashing and siren blaring. A very irate driver indicated I should pull over which of course I did. His colleague seemed rather embarrassed by the incident and indicated I should get in the car. The irate guy began yelling and pointing but of course I didn't understand the issue even though he showed me a tablet listing what I presumed was a range of offences and the relevant fine. I used my phone to ask what the fine was for at which point he took it, tried unsuccessfully to reply and then extracted all the notes, considerably more than the penalty he was pointing at. I considered asking for the matter to be dealt with at the police station, or at least to be given a receipt but he was getting more and more irate so after taking back some of the notes he had stuffed in his dashboard, which still left him a hefty profit, I decided leaving it at that might be prudent. I thought perhaps I had been in a bus lane but then so were many other drivers and in fact it was only a bus stop and I think my transgression was pulling up sharply for the lights and unavoidably straddling a pedestrian crossing. Anyway my planned stay for the night was nearby so I pulled in, took a walk out to a monument and then decided as it was only early afternoon to push on to Uzbekistan stopping for a diesel fill up at 40p a litre as it's 70 in Uzbekistan.

I chatted briefly to a trio of German expedition trucks and then headed on only to find that Google Maps had taken me to an HGV only border crossing. Eventually however I reached the alternative crossing point which was the usual chaotic melee. I stopped in front of a barrier to a road full of currency exchanges and SIM card sellers and a guy came over and said he could let me through for a fee, which I declined. A woman also approached asking if I wanted to change money. I said I wanted $500, gave her the 50 $10 to check and she said no one wanted the smaller notes : contrary to general advice. The fixer also came back, opened the barrier and waved me through saying I would be stuck all day if I didn't pay him : as it was only a tenner I handed him the tenge after which it all became rather chaotic as a policeman tried to turn me around, the woman kept asking me for bigger denominations and I rather lost track. In the end both policeman and fixer had a big row, I was told to move on through the second barrier and the woman handed over the Uzbeki som as I approached the passport control. Here the 3 German trucks had been through the same place only to then be told they would have to go to another crossing point 80km away as their vehicles were too large. Fortunately I was allowed through and had the usual friendly and helpful experience as I was stamped out of Kazakhstan, had a cursory vehicle check and crossed the short area of nomansland before joining the green customs channel. Whilst sat in line I checked my som and found that I had been short changed by a fair margin but of course it was impossible to go back - so irritating. On approaching the Uzbek side I had to hand over all details to a pre check office who then put a Q Code on my phone. At passport control my photo was taken and then it was on to Customs who asked for the Q Code and the document I had received when entering Kazakhstan from Russia. The Customs guys had a good look round and seemed happy enough, many other vehicles were having to empty out all their luggage for scanning. I was then told to go to another office with a form for insurance but they couldn't find my details on their computer so it was back to the first office who brought up his screen, added some text and told me to photograph the screen and return to the insurance guy. I think the problem was mixing up my O's and 0's on the number plate, a common enough occurrence and don't even get me started on the joys of a V5(C) which is my bilingual vehicle registration document..... Anyway he asked me for an amount in Kazakhstan tenge equivalent to about £20 for two weeks cover so having handed that over I was good to go. The final irritation of the day was that the insurance in Uzbekistan som was only actually £15 as printed on the certificate : another disappointing rip off to round off a dispiriting day.

Anyway we are hugely privileged to be able to travel as we do and in the scheme of things the amounts were insignificant so I set off towards Tashkent grateful to be in yet another much anticipated country. P4N showed a spot to stay a few miles off the main road and I was soon tucked under the trees in a grassy valley in the small village of Rabat. A family was picnicking nearby and the kids came running over for a look round and later Mum brought me over some fried chicken, salad and tea which restored my faith in people at large. It was a lovely spot and later on hobbled cattle and horses stumbled by heading home. It was a bank holiday so a nearby house was hosting some kind of party with lots of traditionally dressed children heading that way for an evening of music and dancing.

After a very quiet night I was soon entering Tashkent which is a large modern city with a centre completely rebuilt after a devastating earthquake in 1966. I found the P4N parking and got under some shade before walking round to the bizarre Disney style Magic Shopping Mall complete with artificial lake, scores of shops selling everything from candy to haut couture and clearly very popular with families. I found that the nearest Beeline store was a couple of miles away so decided to walk there and see the city - my Kazakh SIM had sent a message saying 24 hour roaming would cease at midnight. In the store I got a new SIM with 200Gb of data valid for a month for £6, a passport is required as is often the case.

Walking back the Mall was still busy but the carpark quietened down after 10 pm and I slept well. At some point a dozen or so Chinese plated camper vans heading to Europe had arrived and they were all cooking noodles outside in the warm sun. I had decided to explore the underground which contains some fabulous tiled artworks that define each station : you can use a Visa card and it costs just 11p a journey, whatever the length. Thus I rode a couple of lines jumping off to take photos and eventually emerged at the stop nearest the Chorsu market. This is large and vibrant and enthralled me for a couple of hours including a visit to a phone booth for a power pack where the currency confused me again - 200,000 som initially seemed a lot but is only £12 and the lad was amused by my initial offer of a 20,000 note.

 A delicious kebab and a coke set me back £3 in a small cafe after which I dived back underground, changed lines once and emerged at a stop adjacent to the TV tower. Here after a rather disorganised system I obtained a ticket and was soon whisked up to the 7th floor for wonderful views across the city and was able to trace out my planned return walk along the Ancor Canal. For some reason the lift took me up another floor to a rather fancy restaurant so I decided to treat myself to a meal and a beer whilst doing some onwards planning. I looked up at one point and thought I was losing it as the entire bar had vanished along with the cashier and kitchen door.Then it dawned on me that the dining area arranged in a ring was actually rotating at a snail's pace around the central structure : very disorientating.

I enjoyed the walk back along the river and returned to the van to charge up everything  before a final indulgence on the metro where at Kosmonaut the tiling was remarkable. Back at the surface a torrential downpour had cleared the streets and back at the van all was well apart from some damp where the bouncing rain had come in through the open roof vent.

Incidentally photographing the subway was illegal until a few years ago as it was classed as military infrastructure with the network to be used as nuclear bomb shelters and I had noticed huge blast doors folded in to the walls at certain points.

I left the city after an enjoyable couple of days and headed northeast towards snow covered mountains on a good road before turning off in to the Ugom Chatqol National Park. I stopped at a small shop for some supplies and filled up the water tank from a piped spring supply. Nearby was a possible P4N close to a cable car so I opted to give that a go and was soon floating up towards the mountains. The ticket included the second lift to high above the snow line and I had the pod to myself as it rose through thick cloud. At the top a shiny chrome restaurant and a few food shacks were seeing some trade and eventually the clouds lifted allowing a glimpse of the surrounding summits. 

Back down at the halfway point I had a large and delicious samosa served straight from a clay oven before returning to the van. Down at the Chorvoq reservoir I followed a rough track down a steep gradient to reach a parking area where a family ran a small cafe by a stream and in shade and were happy for me to stay overnight for a fiver. It was an enchanting and peaceful spot and the van did well climbing out the next day.

I was heading back to Tashkent and the promise of a night on the Uzumfermer vineyard with van servicing facilities and eventually arrived in front of two solid steel gates with a sign instructing you to call a number. Fortunately another car pulled up and he dialled it at which point the gates opened. He said parking was on the far side of the main building so I drove round to a large steel shelter supporting solar panels that provided a shady parking place. A young Italian guy called Michael was working on his ancient overland truck and happily showed me where things were. He had tackled the piste from Mangystau in wet weather and the truck had sustained some damage which he was fixing. I tapped in to his extension lead for power: remarkably they don't charge people to stay or for the electricity and Michael had been there for a fortnight...

I called at the hotel reception to confirm I would eat later that evening and also left my laundry to be done, all bedding, towels and 3 weeks clothing done for £20, not cheap but necessary. After a chat with a German couple I had seen in Qizylorda I then dealt with the van domestics, gave it a good sweep out and then took a look round in the cooler late afternoon. In the beautiful Japanese garden a wedding company was doing a photo shoot and I enjoyed fishing pond and some of the 40 or so acres of vines. The business was started in 2008 with just 2 acres and is still family owned, organically run and the recipient of numerous awards from around the world. I paired a glass of Merry Tash with a beef bourgignon, roast vegetables and home made bread all enjoyed on the top floor restaurant as the sun set.

I could have stayed on but decided to get going having collected the laundry which had all been ironed and meeting the owner Rachid who spoke excellent English and was taking his grandson round on an electric scooter.

I had applied for my evisa and GBAO permit for Tajikistan but it could take up to a fortnight to be issued so I figured I could be in Uzbekistan for up to a month which would mean getting insurance for longer and more cash. Thus I headed back to the border, parked well out of the way and walked down to the barriers. Nowhere seemed to be promoting sygurta so I popped in to a SIM shack where the young guy said he could do it. He took my documents, entered all the relevant details on his phone and then disappeared out of the front door returning a minute later with a month long policy for £5, presumably he has a contact with some hidden broker. A proper bank money exchange outlet gave me 2,400,000 som for my 200 dollars, just right, and I was away to the far side of town to visit the excellent railway museum which contained numerous Soviet era steam and electric locomotives as well as carriages and other waggons. Driving away I was hailed by Mathew and Emma, the French family from Aral but couldn't stop easily.

A P4N recommendation for gas cylinder filling came to nothing so I will dispose of the two Turkish cylinders when they are empty. My gas consumption has plummeted anyway as the tank water is warm enough for a strip wash, it's too hot to cook and the bread too good to toast so really the only usage is for the fridge overnight as hot drinks have gone by the way as well. At Jissax a planned stop was now fenced off so I carried on south turned off east and found a cracking spot by a small lake for a quiet evening. 

Returning to Jissax I filled up with fuel before heading west on a badly surfaced road that was a very tedious driving experience. After 2 hours and 80 miles finally things improved as the road was then the access to one of the country's largest mines. I had been driving with all the windows and vents open as it was a swelteringly hot day and was amazed to see a touring cyclist heading east. I stopped to see if he needed water but he was OK but said he was hoping to get a lift as the headwind was relentless and had been since Afghanistan.....

Turning north for a few miles and then east down a gravel track put me on the shore of Lake Aydarko which stretched away in to the distance. A few families were down on the beach and I parked up grateful for the strong breeze. Remarkably a couple of coaches arrived at the small hotel further along but the occupants stayed near to the buildings and I had another quiet night.

Driving out the next morning a number of tortoises of different sizes were dragging themselves across the track, as in Morocco they hide away in the heat of the day. The road south was in good condition and before long I was turning east in to the low mountains that contain the Sarmysh Gorge. There is a £1 entrance fee to the national park and the friendly guard pointed at two options road wise but I didn't really understand so headed down one which brought me to some accommodation and a small amusement park in a valley. At the entrance to this 3 guys were just finishing lunch and offered me a cup of tea. I asked about the gorge and they indicated I had to go back and take the other road. One in particular was hugely interested in the van and my journey and gave me a friendly hug as I left. In fact the other road just led over some hills to the far end of the same valley so I parked and walked down past a gateway. The petroglyphs were hard to spot and signage was non existent but once you had spotted one others were more easily seen although scratched and sprayed graffiti obscured some of them. Animals and dancing humans could be seen and are thought to be at least 100,000 years old and I was struck by how similar they were to images in the Oz Outback and elsewhere in the world.

I met a small group from the Australian Development Bank including a guy from Leeds who had spotted the van parked up and had a quick chat but the valley floor was roasting and too hot to hang about in. Moving on to east of Buxoro I eventually found a place to stay on the shore of the Quyimozor Reservoir just along from the kite surfing school.

Today has been a long haul, fortunately on an excellent road to Khiva which is on the Turkmenistan border. From here a long run north would take to you to the temporarily closed border post in to Kazakhstan and the Mangestaw region which explains a) why the road is so good, b) why it was almost empty which in turn explains why the road from Atyrau to Aktobe and south to Turkistan was so busy. An electrified railway also runs that way and one heads west deep in to Turkmenistan. 

So I am parked up under trees fortunately right alongside the mud walls of Khiva old town with the intention of resting up for a couple of days although the location is a bit busy and I may seek a quieter option not far away tomorrow. Uzbekistan has astounded me with its variety with modern cities but a rural scene that seems far removed from the neon lights where life must be hard. The simple roadside stalls, isolated shepherds and huge stretches of barren desert give much cause for thought and will I suspect contrast sharply with the rapidly expanding tourism that will accompany me tomorrow and beyond in Buxoro and Samarkand.

Take a look

Karry on Kazakhstan.....

 So the tech knowledge expands .... by installing a VPN on my tablet I am able to write the blog once more, the phone effort was doable but tedious.

The suspension bridge at Atiraw was indeed illuminated and further on a lively funfair added to the list of the unexpected in this absorbing country. Fabrice's dog Otto didn't take to the vibrancy so we walked back and all spent a quiet night - the German 6 wheel drive with collapsible living compartment looked an expensive and unwieldy beast to run.

I left next morning heading north east to Aqtobe with F unsure as to his onward plans and soon found myself back on the major road with the frequent deep potholes easily avoided if you concentrated. Headlights on was the rule as the two lane road made overtaking a challenging manoeuvre particularly with my driving position although almost all traffic was moving at the 90 kph limit so it was rare I had to risk it. A few cars and vans cut in sharply occasionally and the odd police check waved me in for a cursory look but otherwise the seemingly endless steppe stretched away in either direction with the truck stops and filling stations breaking up the monotony. The railway ran parallel and being single track required a number of passing loops signed from the road and a steady number of mixed freight trains were rumbling west. At Qandiagash when I stopped for the police, who are just fascinated by my set up rather than questioning my intentions, I tried to ascertain if the road through Shalqar to Aral was surfaced all the way but couldn't make myself clear. As Google Maps suggested the shorter route would take 2 hours longer I figured it might be less well surfaced so pushed on late in the evening to arrive at Aqtobe at dusk and parked in front of a stunning Orthodox Church.

Nearby was the Keruen shopping mall which was as modern, brash and lively as you could, in my case not, wish for and I wondered around amazed that such a place could exist after the 300 miles of emptiness. It was a quiet spot with a lovely chime of bells summoning the faithful to worship the following morning and after walking out to view the nearby mosque and observing their similarities I was on my way south and back on to the endless steppe. Again the road was pretty good apart from the odd section of unevenness when the trucks slowed right down and the deep potholes but with a back catalogue of Desert Island Discs to listen to the hours rumbled away.

Eventually by late afternoon I pulled in at an abandoned cafe for the night but as the internet had stalled carried on a few more miles until one of the many large truck park ups provided a place to stop with connectivity. A couple of HGVs reversed in nearby which actually screened the road noise and as the sun set I had a quick wash and hit my pit. With the gas refill situation uncertain I have changed my routine so wash instead of shower, haven't bothered with hot drinks and just have the lovely fresh bread for breakfast. After a day's driving the fridge is cold enough for overnight so I reckon it will be OK.

Monday saw another long haul leading to a stop at Aral where the excellent museum documents the tragic demise of the once vast Aral Sea. Responsible in the past for 80% of the Kazakh fish industry it began drying up after Soviet diversion of two rivers hundreds of miles to the north for cotton production and has declined in area by 90% leaving fishing ports many miles from the water's edge. A couple of vessels from the heyday were incorporated in to the museum and from the deck of one you could see the cranes now just rusting away that had once offloaded the catch. I had met a French family on a year away doing pretty much the same route as me so joined them in their van for a coffee to exchange ideas.

An hour or so further south I turned off the main road for a few miles along a road that led to one of the small lakes that are a vestige of the once noble sea and parked up in just my sort of remote location. Plans to get a chair out and soak up the afternoon sun were thwarted by hordes of large mosquitoes but at dusk as it cooled down they disappeared and I took a walk down to the shore. Fishermen from a distant and humble looking village were whizzing about on motorbikes with a sidecar attached that consisted of just a platform for transporting goods and waved in a friendly manner. At dusk I also spotted a passenger train heading north way in the distance with the brightly lit coaches seemingly floating above the flat desert.

After a perfect quiet night I was soon back on the main road, stopping at one point for a rare tourist attraction - the monument and mausoleum of a famous Kazakh singer and musician Korkutb Ata who had also invented a favourite Kazakh instrument - the kobuz - great Scrabble word. The monument had large pillars that funnelled the constant wind of the steppe through pipes to produce a hauntingly beautiful sound....

Not long before that I had passed the Baikonur Cosmodrome which under Soviet control had put Yuri Gagarin in to space in 1961, the first human. The site is leased back to the Russians and rocket and satellite launches still take place. The array of tracking dishes and some low buildings were all that could be seen and at present visits are not permitted.

With Google Maps working well I soon found the park up in Qizylorda (if only Scrabble allowed place names) on a large area of tarmac by the Aqua centre where two large expedition trucks were already in situ. The nearby mall was again a symbol of the new consumerist religion gripping the world and was a neon filled temple to extravagance to which I succumbed for an excellent pizza. After a quiet night I returned to the mall as it had a well stocked supermarket and then moved on to a useful water vending machine that dispensed clean filtered water at 16p for 5 litres. Thus I added 20 litres to my tank and refilled the two bottles once more to have as spares. At the fuel station the helpful attendant tried to undo my water filler cap (as good a reason as any to have a lockable one) but was soon putting 75l of diesel in the right hole for £40. His mate cleaned all my glass and both were fascinated to have a look round inside. I gave them a small tip and had paid cash in the shop, getting some grease for the sliding door channel as well. Steady progress on a flat road and with no use of the diesel heater recently saw a creditable mpg of 44 which would make those trucks cry - apparently tyre wear alone works out at 15p a mile if on tarmac....

I stopped for lunch parked under a welcome steel canopy as the temperature had risen to the low 30s and then walked out under the railway line to the remains of Sauran fort which had been hugely important until the 18th century. The pise walls reminded me of the old kasbahs in Morocco, and like them without regular remudding they are starting to disappear. Freight trains rumbled by and a passenger train - the journey from Shymkent to Aktobe takes 36 hours.

Two friendly police officers took up almost an hour of my time as they were interested in the van, especially the fold away table and bathroom and insisted on WhatsApping their wives for me to speak with them so I was about an hour later than planned arriving in the city of Turkistan which like previous ones was modern, well laid out and full of amazing architecture. The first P4N was very convenient for all the major sites but was a hot tarmac carpark with no shade so I tried an alternative and was lucky enough to get in under trees that fully shaded me from the heat. The two trucks had been unable to tuck away so were baking as the sun beat down. I walked along tree lined avenues to Fountain Square and then down towards other notable sights. Most of these used to stand independently but are now slowly being enclosed by a glass panelled 'fence' so that all are now covered by a single admission fee of about £3 for foreigners. I decided it would be too hot that afternoon so walked in to the Flying Theatre and Caravansary Mall before heading back to the van. I met a Spanish couple, currently living in London, who had been looking at me in surprise as I turned the van round earlier, they are using the train to get around and said the sleeper compartments are pretty good. It was a sweltering night not helped by the need to cook some chicken and mince and I suspect from now on it will be salads within any cooked meals enjoyed out, so I left all the windows open and had a cold shower which did the trick.

Today has been a tour of the various mosques and mausoleums within the new fencing and I was able to enter the main Khoja Ahmed Yasawi building where women were at prayer in the cool interior. The exquisite turquoise domes and tiling defied belief and I enjoyed a couple of hours there, also visiting the underground mosque and ancient baths before heading down to the Flying Theatre.

This is housed in a golden domed building surrounded by a make believe nest and signifies the egg of the fabled eagle. After a tour through some re-creations of traditional Kazakh life, where one of the staff kindly gave me an English translation we then entered the main attraction, a large dark domed space. We were strapped in to seats, the lights dimmed and beneath our feet the floor fell away. The seating then surged forward as the 8D experience began and it was truly amazing. The seats rose and fell, twisted and turned as we seemingly hurtled towards a yurt, whizzed through the door and then out in to the vast steppe with an eagle leading the way. It really was hugely convincing as we snaked through canyons, swooped up cliff faces and at one point plunged beneath the waves. Eventually of course we returned to the yurt, the soundtrack dimmed and the seats retracted but without doubt it was one of my top ten experiences and is to be thoroughly recommended.

A lunch of fried eggplant followed by an ice cream on the way back rounded off a remarkable day and as it has now cooled off I am heading out to catch the sunset.

Tomorrow I move on for a couple of days in the last Kazakh town for now, Shymkent near the Uzbekistan border. I have decided that a return through Russia in a few months might be problematic as the internet is seeing increasing restrictions and I have neither map nor guide but that should leave me time to visit the Mangestaw region of Kazakhstan and the Svanetti area of Georgia that was under snow last year. I would then return via Turkey and Northern Greece before a ferry to Venice but that's all ages away so for now enjoy

This Lot

On to Kazakstan...

 Right, this will be fun... due to techy shenanigans beyond my knowledge I can't access Blogspot in the normal way on my tablet so this post is being composed on my phone so my fingers and eyes will soon give up on me...

After the Sulak Canyon I dropped  back down to the main road after finding the water tap from P4N even though a helpful local had left an SUV right in front of it.

Heading east towards Makhachkala, a large port on the Caspian Sea I took a short detour on 4 miles of very rough and muddy track to visit a bizarre and enormous inland sand dune.

A planned stop on the Caspian Sea at the small village of Sulak was as far removed from the golden beaches of Cephalonia as you could imagine. There was no sign of the water just an endless mud flat strewn with litter at the end of a muddy track.

With plenty of daylight left I headed north with a border inspection at the line between Dagestan and Kalmykia providing some interest as it included a whole vehicle X-RAY rather like the one at Tangier Med. All the border staff were courteous and friendly and I was soon on my way.

Artezian just off the main route provided a quiet stop with flocks of sheep returning at sunset followed by a herd of galloping horses. Two local policemen stopped and were fine and I slept well.

In addition to an intermittent data signal, which caused the VPN to fail regularly, as you got near any town the GPS accuracy went off the scale rendering Google Maps etc and my Sat Nav unusable again. However offline Mapy.com enabled me to take a visual snapshot of the routes and I found the park up in Astrakhan on the bank of the Volga where one Italian coachbuilt and a 4x4 truck were already in situ.

The promenade along the river was vibrant and lively in the evening after I had spent the afternoon searching for a bank as I decided more rubles would be useful. It took me a while to realise that the search results for bank included ATMs which led me to all sorts of unlikely shop interiors. Anyway eventually on Lenin Square I found a large imposing building that was indeed a bank and soon had my first $100 changed.

'Latte i tort' in a smart cafe fuelled me for a look round the imposing kremlin (fortified citadel) that contained some stunning churches before I returned to the van and a walk on the prom, amused by older VW vans being used as coffee bars, each complete with a mock red telephone box. That evening I ate in the restaurant opposite and apart from ordering a whole bottle of vodka instead of a beer (fortunately happily rectified) all went well.

The next day I walked through much of the town, found the remarkable covered market and had an excellent noodles with pork in a very comfortable restaurant. The obligatory beer left me ready for a rest and as it had clouded over I returned to the van where F had turned up, followed soon after by a German couple in a coachbuilt Hymer heading to Thailand over two years and a Chinese couple in a smart Iveco camper who had come from Wuhan and were heading to the Nordkapp and back to China in a total of 6 months...

F and I left the following morning after another good meal and stopped on the outskirts of the city for fuel with 80l costing £40.

As we followed the wet and muddy road east to the border we had to pay a small toll to cross an exciting floating bridge of hinged steel plates and within an hour were overtaking the HGVS lined up approaching the border. 

We were soon waved through for first Passport Control and then Customs and Vehicle Export which took perhaps an hour and a half in total. One guy was collecting our phone numbers and the IMEI numbers of the device but eventually we were on through a muddy nomansland of the wider Volga Delta.

At the Kazakhstan border the process repeated and again the staff were polite, helpful and thorough. Once through we stopped for insurance at a small yellow hut on the right : Category B vehicles costing about £20 for a month : 12,500 tenge.

Before going in a very smart lady had approached offering to change money and offered 460,000 tenge for $1,000. About right with perhaps 1% commission and very easy... I attempted to count the 90 or so notes but failed although checking later it had all been fine.

Another small shop provided a BEELINE SIM with 30Gb valid for a month for £15 although she struggled a bit to get me set up, in the end it was just down to accepting the new settings and we were good to go.

We moved on but stopped for lunch off the road before moving on over the flat steppe with a good surface, camels and horses appearing and a few trucks to be overtaken so plenty going on. The donkey oil pumps began appearing as well and when we stopped at a motel a friendly group of geologists explained that oil was easily found throughout the region. Unfortunately they thought the motel  was shut to other guests so we moved on 20 miles and found a quiet park up by a turgid river. After a busy day we both slept well although a light rain made me worry a bit about getting away.

It was a bit sticky but doable and I slid back on to the tarmac for the quick hour to Atiraw on the Aral river. P4N suggested a plumber's merchants would provide water and indeed they did free of charge which seemed very kind, they were all really friendly, wanted a selfie in the van and then helped F fill his Jerry cans after which a large expedition truck also turned up. I gave them some chocolates and then moved on to park inside a large meander of the Aral.

A long walk down the river was very enjoyable and I crossed over to view a stunning church before heading back admiring all the shiny new apartment blocks, with dozens more under construction.

Unexpectedly in a burger bar opposite a large white monument and fountain my Visa Debit card worked  fine so I will try it elsewhere as if I can save enough dollars it will enable me to possibly return home through Russia, Belarus, Poland and Germany which would make full use of the visa.

Anyway I'm off to see the nearby suspension bridge that should be lit at night and my digits are knackered.

Great experience in Russia of consistently lovely people and the same here in Kazakhstan: 6,000 miles since leaving Brecon in late December, many more to come...

Two albums

One here. 

T'other here

 

RUSSIA AT LAST.....

So this trip has been almost 8 months in the planning and began after following Salvo and Sylvie's inspirational account of their journey to the Stans last year.

I began researching visas in August and after chasing up various historical records such as my passport history and former employers and educational provider's details I began the process of applying for a Multiple Entry Russian Visa, valid for 6 months. Posts towards the end of 2025 detailed the procedure and progress and as a result I was, last Friday, waking up on a cold morning in Stepantsminda, northern Georgia and facing the prospect of it all coming to fruition.

The road up to the Dariali Border Crossing was initially empty and passed through more pitch black tunnels along the remarkable Dariali Gorge. Eventually I reached the tail end of another line of HGVs and passed them carefully as the free lane was effectively undertaking. Then the buildings on the Georgian side appeared and I was quickly through both passport and customs formalities and sent on my way through the couple of miles of nomansland. This was a stark and austere area with dozens of wrecked cars lying around and the steep gorge walls keeping out the sunshine. You are not allowed to walk this so independent travellers have to cadge a lift but there were none about and I was soon arriving at the Russian buildings of Upper Lars. They were all in good order but obviously very secure and ringed with electrified fencing and I joined the tail end of a block of cars where we sat for perhaps half an hour. There were about 30 gates available but not all were manned and about two thirds were for the red 'Goods to Declare' option. Having nothing on board that exceeded the limits I was directed to one gate, jumped out and was soon dealt with by the immigration official in his booth with the visa checked, photos taken but interestingly no biometrics, which had been taken at the Consulate in Edinburgh. A migration slip was inserted in to my passport which is also where, for borders, I keep my driving licence and I was asked to move on ten yards for the Customs guys to do their bit. Everyone without fail was polite, courteous and friendly, but equally very professional and thorough. As always I was more than happy to open up everything and I have learned that having the tailgate blind open makes it easier for them to see that there is only the bike and rack on the outside. I partially unstrapped the cover so they could see it was a pedal cycle and all seemed well. Babu the sniffer dog then gave everything the once over after which they asked to see under the bonnet and then looked around the glovebox and driver's door. Here they were very interested in a well wrapped package with masking tape securing bubble wrap around something heavy. I was reluctant to unwrap it all but as the bonnet was open could point and explain that it was my spare alternator. This caused me to remember a similar experience 16 years ago when I flew back from NZ with an alternator for repair and then back to Oz with the repaired one and half a dozen oil and fuel filters. Anyway all was well and the guys were clearly intrigued by my circumstances.

I was then told to park up and report to booth 31 where a small crowd of varying nationalities were gathered round a window which opened sporadically. It was here that the final Customs entry formalities began but they needed more than one booth open as the procedures were somewhat laborious.....

When you eventually caught the girl's eye and gave her your passport and DL she gave you two copies of the Entry Form and another Basic Information Sheet, fortunately in English and told you to return with the completed forms. Back at the van I was grateful for shelter from the cold wind and a table and duly filled in both sides of both sheets and the BIS. I then checked all my documents were still present and correct but couldn't find my DL so spent an anxious half hour checking every pocket, my documents folder and in and around the van but with no joy. I walked back to the passport booth and explained the situation only to be pointed to booth 31 where I queued again only to discover that they hold on to it whilst you complete the forms aarrgghh...After another wait at the booth, where a German guy who had been waiting 18 hours was getting irate to no avail ( apparently it can take the truckers as much as three weeks), I was told that my forms contained a number of errors, for example your VIN is the chassis number but not to be put down as the Identification Number as well, the Make and Model need to be on the same line, despite the next line asking you for Type, you need to state you are leaving Georgia and entering Russia : not many other options given the location but hey ho. You also need to give an address you will be staying at - tricky in a camper so I used the hotel in Vladikavkaz that had gone on my application for a Letter of Invitation way back when. Where I had put X's in the nothing to declare box under the various categories apparently the whole section should just be left blank, finally she said signing the form Simon Jarratt was wrong, even though it said signature followed by Print Forename and Surname. Thus I obtained two more forms as alterations were not permitted, had a quick chat with Fabrice who had just arrived and pointed out the errors I had made to save him the same fate. So I filled in both sides of both sheets, joined the queue again and after 20 minutes the girls went off for a coffee break leaving us all hanging about. Entertainment was provided by a huge German 4x4 truck squeezing in to Bay 30 and being asked to unload everything, including all the boxes on the roof. Everything was beautifully labelled and organised but took some getting to after which without closer inspection they were told to repack and go through the HGV X ray scanner. When I finally presented my second set of forms I was told that signing S Jarratt was no good - it needed to be SJ and not be followed by my printed name.....I asked for extra copies of the forms as I knew Fabrice would be needing them, filled in my 3rd set and they were finally accepted. The window slid shut again and Fabrice arrived saying he was having a problem as they had told him his van was on their register of Company Vehicles - pretty amazing. Anyway he managed to sort that out and to our huge and joint relief we were both finally given our Customs slip which we presented to the guy manning the final barrier and hey presto we were free to go. Further on after a final check we pulled in to the side of the road opposite a row of offices, one of which said 'Car Insurance'.

A lovely friendly lass, with some English, eventually issued me with two weeks cover for about £20, rubles only as cards don't work here so I was glad I had got some back in Tbilisi. Fabrice had another issue with his car being a commercial vehicle and had to pay double, the lass explaining that he was covered for multiple drivers, although like me he was travelling solo. We then asked if she could sort out SIM cards and were duly issued with Beeline SIMS valid for two weeks with 30 GB of data. She explained that web access would be limited for security reasons for the first 24 hours and that to use WhatsApp etc we would need a VPN, something way outside my techy knowledge or experience. Fortunately it was well within hers so she kindly downloaded the Jumpy App, did the necessary and we were good to go. I gave her a small bracelet we had bought back in Italy as a thank you and she seemed hugely touched.

So after 7 hours I was in, insured and interconnected so set the sat nav for a P4N in Vladikavkaz twenty minutes down the road. Fabrice followed behind but before long I realised that the sat nav was miles out and unable to get a GPS fix, similarly with Google Maps linked to the P4N App and even my Mapy.com maps. I pulled in and explained the problem to Fabrice and said I would have to use the Mapy maps in off line mode and memorise the route. Vladikavkaz was far bigger than I had expected but with a combination of luck and judgement we got near to the river, turned south and then eventually left in the hope we would be by the football stadium. In fact we ended up in the parking for Magicoffee so decided to stop there and review. The actual park up was only 300m away on the far side of a bridge but people seemed to think it would be OK to stop, assuming we all interpreted the sign language correctly. Magicoffee lived up to its name and was very comfortable - the pistachio croissant was the first either of us had eaten all day.

Later on as I was revisiting an extraordinary day there was a tap at the door and a guy we'd asked earlier about staying asked if he could bring us some food... I knew F had gone to sleep but said I would really appreciate that and off he went. Half an hour later he turned up with two friends and a pizza box containing 3 huge flatbreads filled with cheese and 8 bottles of water. They stayed for a while with a chat via Google Translate, said they go fishing for beluga in the Caspian Sea near Astrakhan and asked if I had time to go fishing in the mountains with them. I thanked them but explained I only had a limited time in Russia on this occasion and they happily went on their way : remarkable.

I slept soundly and after saying goodbye for now to F set off towards the Sulak Canyon, a couple of hours away beyond Grozny, the Chechen capital. The sat nav seemed more usable outside of the towns and I made good progress within the odd police checkpoint causing no issues. A massive traffic jam in Khasavyurt held me up for an hour or so during which time I also failed to spot a huge bump in the road and heard the sound of smashing glass and china behind me. It wasn't possible to stop until another more formal checkpoint which was the border with the Republic of Dagestan. Here I was directed in to an office via a security scanner and had my details taken before exiting the building. A cupboard had burst open and the chairs bounced out of their storage in the bathroom taking the blind with it but as I was pulling over soon I left things as they were. A twisting road brought me up to the rather austere looking village of Dubki, beyond which was a turning up various gravel tracks to a viewpoint over the dramatic Sulak gorge. From an exposed rock outcrop you could see down to the river far below where the odd jet boat was giving passengers an exciting ride whilst a dozen or more eagles flew to and fro. 

A group of Russian tourists came down and were fascinated by my story and insisted on selfies with Katerina from St Petersburg giving me her number and offering me a park up if I'm ever that way : again lovely, kind, generous people. I repaired the blind and added a few more retaining screws to beef things up as the 25 year old plastic mouldings are a bit fragile.

Today I walked along the rim of the gorge for views of the hydro electric dam and then up to Dubki for milk, bread and eggs before returning to the van with a relentless and powerful tailwind nearly bowling me over.

A group of mountain bikers were struggling uphill against the wind and looked a bit defeated. Three guys at the viewpoint came for a chat - they had been hoping to do some hangliding and were again very intrigued by my story.

The wind continued to strengthen to the extent that I thought about moving but having strapped the roof vents down internally and pulled the bike cover tighter I think all will be well. F turned up at sunset and came in for a chat, he recommended Grozny for a visit so I will factor it in on my return. For now though it is a steady progression east with a night by the Caspian Sea planned for tomorrow and then two days in Astrakhan before entering Kazakhstan after the middle of next week.

So far (only 3 days) I have been thoroughly taken by Russia, as much by the warm and friendly reception from the people I have met - genuinely welcoming and interested, as the dramatic scenery so have a look for yourselves HERE

Testing

Just a dummy blog to test the Russian SIM....

 

A Week in Georgia....

After the huge enjoyment of Ani I returned to Kars and parked up opposite the cheese museum (as you do) and was somewhat surprised after a quiet night to wake to 4 inches of fresh snow. Fortunately it had stopped falling and with traffic moving I too was on my way after a leisurely breakfast, stopping briefly at a small supermarket before heading out to one of the lesser border crossings about 100 miles away. The main road had been ploughed clear and was pretty empty as I passed through snow covered mountains that will merit a return visit later in the year.

Approaching the Cildir/Aktas border point there was a line of HGVs which I passed before arriving at the first barrier. Here I was directed to park up and get my passport stamped out before moving the van on to customs where after a cursory inspection and a chat with the friendly female official's sister who she was Whatsapping I moved on to the Georgian side of things where lorries were jammed in all over the place with nothing moving. I got out for a recce and met a friendly Turkish driver who pointed at the lowered Georgian flag which apparently indicates a National Holiday. The delays were due to minimal staffing levels and mainly affected HGVs as they had to pass through X-ray scanners and only one was manned. He said I should just barge through the assorted trucks and get to the car gate - easier said than done with frustrated drivers of various nationalities towering above me in their cabs. Fortunately an Armenian guy had decided to get to get his stove out and cook lunch so when the truck in front of him moved I squeezed past and was at Georgian Passport Control. There were no problems here, or at Customs, as usual I opened every external door, put all the interior lights on and invited the guys in for a good luck at my humble home. 

Insurance is easily obtainable at a kiosk near the petrol station just beyond the border with various classes of vehicle charged different rates for periods varying from 5 days to the 3 months maximum you are allowed in for. With less than a week planned I erred on  the side of caution and took a fortnight for £15 which seemed reasonable but then paid through the nose in the fuel station for a SilkNet SIM. Buying insurance got off to a shaky start as the power had failed and they were trying to start a small genny to run the computers but it had no fuel left. Fortunately the mains came back on before I resorted to digging out my genny and I was soon away after a total crossing time of under two hours.

We had passed this way in the opposite direction last year and the 20 miles towards Akhalkalaki was as bad as I remembered. 20 mph was rarely achievable, snow drifts and meltwater obscured the many deep potholes and oncoming trucks were all over the place trying to avoid the worst of them with the articulated bodies twisting and bouncing to a remarkable degree. The usual police checkpoint to ensure you have insurance was unmanned due to a combination of being almost buried in snow and the bank holiday and I eventually arrived at a less than glamorous spot by the frozen football pitch in a line with 3 industrial bins. I walked in to town in search of an ATM and then out to a place by the remains of a small castle that was supposed to be a possibility for gas refills - not anymore. Strolling back to the van I was jolted awake by the sight of 3 recently severed bulls heads on a table but got back to the van for a quiet night until the bins were emptied at 6am.

Google Maps was set for Gori and I left the outskirts passing several wreckers yards, none of whom seemed to understand my search for a spare wheel rim. At one point a local started waving at me and shaking his head whilst pointing up ahead and I realised that he was telling me the shorter road through the mountains was shut so I rejigged Google Maps to go via Borjomi and took a familiar road through a twisting valley and past the turning to Vardzia, the cave city that had so amazed us last summer.

A final blast on the Batumi to Tbilisi main road put me in the centre of Gori where the same guy from last year filled my CG907 for £6 and I spent a quiet night. A German couple in a T5 pop top weren't far away and later a young Swiss guy turned up in his T5.

They all left the following morning on foot presumably to visit the Stalin Museum whilst I moved on the hour or so to Tbilisi and a 4x4 accessory shop just off the main highway in to the centre. This was closed so I moved on to my planned park up at a private house a couple of miles away. When I arrived at the locked gates I got out and spoke to a guy who rang the owner for me. He explained that the family elder, the grandfather, had passed away the day before and that it might be quite busy but I was welcome to stay and within minutes the gates to a side yard were opened and I pulled in with some difficulty across deep gravel to park by a rather quirky white Transit. 

This contained two Greek girls from Athens who had hired the rather basic camper conversion for two weeks touring Georgia. They explained that it was  Easter Weekend for the Orthodox church which made the family loss even more poignant.

As they were about to leave I then moved on to the patch of concrete that was nearer the tap and plug socket. A family member came out to explain the set up and I expressed my condolences and confirmed I would be staying 3 nights as heavy snow up at the border crossing had stopped all traffic. This information came from Joris who had friends stuck up there in what looked like pretty challenging conditions so with the power on I settled in to do some planning. I cut a neat hole in the floor carpet to get to the socket for my larger table and spent a useful couple of hours with all my maps and guides plus referring back to Salvo and Sylvie's trip last year, the latest updates from the caravanistan website and current visa requirements to come up with a plan for the next few months that should cover the highlights of what is an enormous area. In the photo below my route is in pink, borders are green and Turkmenistan is unavailable for independent travel so not included.

I took the bike and cover off to make dealing with the loo and changing a gas cylinder easier and gave the bathroom area a good clean. Both bike tyres were a bit soft so I removed the valves, added more sealant and pumped them up fully with the compressor before loading everything back up. Using my two extending poles that usually support the tarpaulin awning I can raise the tailgate single handedly but on my return I must seek out uprated struts that will make life easier.

Yesterday I set off towards Russia with the border around 100km to the north along the Georgian Military Road that follows the only natural passage through the Caucasus mountains. I stopped at a money exchange for £120 worth of Russian rubles to make insurance and SIM purchase easier at the border as due to sanctions no cards will work and then carried on. However after only 20km the police were directing all non Georgian vehicles to pull over and park up. Apparently the border was still shut and only locals were being allowed up as far as Stepantsminda, the final town. Thus dozens of lorries of various origin were parking up and scores of Russian plated cars were trying to secure food and beds for the night. After considering my options and mindful of a potential 60 mile backlog once the crossing was open I decided to return to Tbilisi where I could be parked up, plugged in and sit out developments for a very reasonable £15/night including use of the washing machine.

The family funeral was taking place, the hearse having been at the property that morning so I didn't intrude by calling them and noted that a Swiss van had also arrived. My phone credit had run out and without a connection it was hard to translate the texts regarding this so I decided to head out and find a phone shop but this proved elusive as the area is mostly home to garages and tyre depots plus the odd retail store. In one of these an assistant explained that I could use one of the Pay Boxes that I have seen dotted around but would need my number which I didn't know. Helpfully she suggested ringing her number so that it would display mine and hey presto I had my Georgian number.... Later I would discover it was also on the plastic card that had contained my actual SIM card - this is often not the case with say Lyca or Lebara as they reissue old numbers on SIM activation which as I discovered last year can lead to a whole host of new friends from the Asian subcontinent.

At a Pay Box near the park up I found the English button, selected Mobile Phones from the menu, then SilkNet and then browsed the various options choosing a week's unlimited internet for £3. I inserted a 10 lari note and soon had a text confirming all was well. Fabrice and his dog Otto were in a very well equipped 4x4 T5 with a roof tent and a host of other accessories and we decided it would make sense to travel together on Friday after another day of good weather and backlog decline.

So today I decided to walk in towards the city to  visit the 4x4 shop, a stroll of about two miles along a busy dual carriageway passing  numerous luxury car dealerships - there are obviously some very affluent people around, and also the heavily guarded and rather striking buildings of the American Embassy.

The well equipped shop had just what I wanted in the shape of a pair of recovery tracks with the slightly smaller version (110cm x 30cm) only taking up 10 cm in depth when stacked together and only weighing about 6kg but still capable of supporting a more than adequate 8 tons, the van is only about 2.8T fully laden. At £55 they were well priced and I walked back on a sunny afternoon stopping for coffee en route.

Back at the van I was pleased that they would easily store behind the passenger seat should they be in imminent demand but decided that most of the time they would be best stored above the cab below the solar panel, bedding and window insulation mats. This means they don't need an external mounting bracket (extra weight and cost) and are unlikely to be nicked. OK so you lose the pose factor but being bright green that was always going to be questionable anyway.

As the van was looking rather travel worn and there was a decent hose nearby I gave it a good wash having first hosed off the worst and then used bike MucOff as a very satisfactory shampoo. It was the first wash since last August and she scrubbed up well for a 25 year old. There are a few bumper scuffs and the odd scratch from other encounters but nothing I feel compelled to have seen to and I will be lucky if I escape unscathed over the next few months.

The owner has just turned up to collect payment, yesterday's funeral had been a long and tiring day, but he very kindly brought me a carrier bag of breads, fried fish, a meat stew, cheese salads and 2 more litres of wine plus a cake  for the journey : awesome.....

Anyway Fabrice and I have decided to head for Stepantsminda tomorrow morning in convoy and see what the score is so there is every chance that my next post wil be from Russia with love...... 

So until then there are a few extra pics HERE

Except, again.....

Leaving Tbilisi there was a clear road as far as Ananuri Castle then in the distance and still 40 miles from the border I saw the tail end of a queue of HGVs stretching in to infinity.

Along with various other cars and light vans I then began a game of chicken as we started overtaking the endless line, just managing to squeeze in as other trucks approached.

Once we started hitting the numerous hairpins the game upped a couple of levels and at the highest section pitch black tunnels provided another tier of excitement. The police were holding the trucks in batches several miles long to operate a one way system as both the tunnels and tightest curves couldn't accommodate two way truck traffic. The surrounding mountains were stunning with a modest ski resort in one village after which the road began a gradual drop to Stepantsminda where I have parked up on the edge of town with a good view of the beautiful Gergeti Monastery high above.

I walked back in to town for a coffee and to get some local bread, spotted Fabrice and spoke to a young German couple in a WP who have just spent the winter on the Arabian Peninsula and have been OTR for 4 years. They are off to the border this afternoon but I will head that way tomorrow after what may be quite a chilly night here at 5,700'.