T(r)ajikistan.....

A punny title for this brief post...

From Samarkand I moved on steadily to the border with Tajikistan and pulled in to the parking just on the Uzbek side. Compared to other borders it was all surprisingly quiet and before long Frank and Andrea rumbled in in their 28 year old ex fire truck now repurposed as an expedition truck. They kindly invited me to join them for dinner so I had a good chance to look at the inside which was fascinating. Three large fridge/ freezers, induction hobs and so on all running off a large solar set up on the roof meant they were gas free and a diesel heater added to the refinement.

As we discussed our plans to cross the border jointly the following day the heavens erupted with dramatic thunder and lightning preceding torrential rain. Neither of us had received any response to our evisa applications, despite emails acknowledging receipt of both the applications and $70 pp fees. We decided to try anyway as Andrea had heard that one person had received their visa after crossing containing the photo taken at the border.

After a wet night we were up and away by 7 to drive the 100 yards to the first gate. A guy approached me offering to change money in to somoni so mindful of the poor rate and rip off at the Kazak border I just did $50 and nipped back to give Frank half to see us through any issues.

Our next step was to get the vehicles cleared at Customs with a friendly guy having a good look round inside my van and pretending to give the drugs dog my salami from the fridge... I was told to get a form stamped in the office where after a short delay the official showed me a video still of my van with accompanying writing which turned out to be a traffic violation the fine for which needed settling before I could be cleared. He took a photo of the screen with my phone and directed me to another building with a cashier point. Of course not having any som left I asked to pay in dollars as their card machine didn't work - after conversion fees and the fine itself the total was £12.......

FnA were ahead of me now but I met them at the Tajik Customs office having paid £4 to a small office part way across the Nomansland. Frank had already paid his $100 dollar vehicle tax and said I would probably pay less with a smaller vehicle. Once processed I was charged $70 and sent round to the Passport Control where the problems started. Their system showed no evidence of any visa and despite me showing the guy the relevant emails and screenshots of the online application he said my only option was to get a visa in person at the Embassy in Tashkent.... 200 miles away.

So I returned to the van to consider my options and decided to be more persistent with the Passport guy who had been quite friendly. He made a few phone calls and asked me to wait ten minutes so I sat outside watching a steady stream of tourists and locals walking between the two borders as taxis and busses merely drop people off. Andrea came back to see what was what : they hadn't actually needed a visa as EU countries are exempt : yet another Brexit bonus to add to my ever growing list.

She wanted to give me the money back anyway so I wished them well and after a couple of hours decided to tackle the Passport guy again, he looked surprised that I was still here, made more phone calls and then an officer gestured for me to follow him to a large building across the yard. Inside dozens of staff were resting, eating or praying and one with good English came over to say I should apply for an evisa. I explained I already had and had been waiting 3 weeks with zero response. He insisted it would only take 2/3 business days and that was that.

With no other option but to drive back to the Uzbeki gate I set off but was told to get my Tajik vehicle import document stamped out.....as I'd not even got in I asked for the $70 dollars to be refunded but was told this was not possible. Hey ho methinks, all part of the adventure so I drove back to the Uzbek Passport Control and then couldn't find my passport. After a thorough search I drove once more back to the Tajik gate, approached the Passport guy who sheepishly produced my passport from within his scanning machine, a daft oversight on both our parts.

So finally I was back through Uzbek Passport Control who asked why I had only spent 24 hours in Tajikistan..... On looking at my passport their colleagues had forgotten to change the date on their stamp first thing that morning so I had been stamped out the previous day, thus neatly highlighting how unwieldy and ineffective the whole system is. After a chat with two friendly Customs guys and a £10 entry fee I was back in Uzbekistan (come on now keep up, you think you're confused ?) with a plan to head back to Samarkand with more reliable internet and apply for another evisa.

By chance Liz and Colin were there so we met up and had an excellent meal at the Hotel Diyor again, interrupted by a dramatic hailstorm that saw everyone rushing inside.  Travelling in I had sheltered under a tree from another gigantic downpour as I feared the huge hailstones might crack the screen and passed through deep floods. Colin said they had experienced similar the previous evening arriving from Bhukara. We discussed the evisa situation and they had decided to do the 500 mile round trip to Tashkent, apply in person for visas and enjoy the winery accommodation I had recommended thoroughly.

I applied for a second evisa online to be met with the automated response that my details were already in use as part of a previous application so could not proceed further : a total Catch 22. Follow up emails over the last 3 weeks had elicited no replies and as there was a question mark over RHD vehicles even being allowed in I have reluctantly decided that Tajikistan will have to be left for another time.

Thus I am heading to the Fergana area of Uzbekistan which is rarely visited by tourists but has much to offer and will lead me to Kyrgyzstan where I will spend a month and hopefully do their section of the Pamir highway.

I stopped at Buka for some shopping and cash from an ATM, had a fried rice and beef lunch washed down with a coke for £2 and then moved on to north of Piskent where a spring by the roadside enabled me to fill my tank using the 10l empty water bottles that I then gave to a local who was delighted.

Not far away I turned down a track to a grassy spot by a river and found perfect shade under a large willow tree. Two calves were tethered in some long grass, their mothers returning regularly to give them a feed, a donkey and its young foal wandered around and a few locals dropped by for a walk or swim and were all both friendly and fascinated.

It was a quiet night once the lorries taking sand from further up the river bed went home and I slept well. It's a shame about Tajikistan but it clears the way for a full month in Kyrgyzstan before the long haul across Kazakhstan as part of my journey home. I will have time to detour down to the Mangestaw region, which will be a bonus and also see Grozny in Russia and the Svanetti in Georgia. Equally returning through Turkey in late August will allow a journey through the mountainous north which was under heavy snow when I passed through back in April.

No extra pics this time as border rules are to be respected....

Samarqand.....Samarkand

Just to explain: I use the various spellings of place names to enable wider searches should people be interested but road signs often have other spellings and of course scripts.

Anyway with mid afternoon temperatures hitting the mid to high 30s and overnight staying above 20°C my stay in Samarkand was a hot one. The tour bus drivers sleep in the baggage compartments, very much at odds with their customers in air conditioned hotels, and were amused by my position in amongst them all. 

I walked through the park which provided some shade and past the theatre to check out an alternative P4N which had some shade but was also the filling up point for numerous water tankers that deliver to the parks, gardens and suburbs. On balance this would be the better place to stay and indeed I spotted Frank and Andrea again: not surprising as we are on a similar route and time frame. We arranged to meet up for a meal yesterday evening with a view to planning a joint approach at the Tajikistan border as their evisas had produced nothing either.

A bridge cut across to the parks surrounding the impressive Registan, a trio of madrasas that almost defy description.

Returning to the van for a mid afternoon rest I did in fact have some shade as I was completely hemmed in....

Our evening rendezvous at the Hotel Diyor was a great success with excellent food enjoyed under a welcome overhead misting system, my lagman turning out to be a delicious interpretation of spaghetti bolognese. Good local beers also helped.

On my way I had watched a street circus act and on my return caught some of a spectacular son et lumiere played out over the walls, arches and domes of the Registan before an enthralled crowd of thousands. Back at the van a cold shower and just a sheet at bedtime ensured a comfortable night.

The local gardeners, sweepers and litter pickers start early to escape the midday heat and of course the coaches fire up to head off for their clients so I was also away early as I wanted to head out to the far side of town.

My destination was the Ulugbek Observatory founded in the 14thC where the namesake astronomer accurately recorded the position of over 1000 stars. He was the grandson of Timur who ruled Samarkand and a vast empire to the west for 40 years.

I caught shade where I could as I passed the 40,000 capacity Bibi Khanym Mosque and cut through the large cemetery having called at the Hazrat Hizr Mosque with its lofty viewpoint. Alongside is the mausoleum of Islam Karimov, Uzbekistan's first president who died in 2016.

A good meal of plov on a shaded terrace revived me for the final kilometre up to the observatory passing a couple of metal working shops.

Returning to the shady parks once more I passed the various tombs on Shah-i Zinda and was asked by a friendly group of Uzbeki women to take their group photos. Their carefree enjoyment contrasted sharply soon after with a woman taking a drink from a hose and resting from her task of collecting huge sacks of discarded water bottles.

I returned to the van for a cool down and headed back to the Registan for a final performance of the show and this morning have relocated to the water bowser park up to confirm things with Frank and Andrea.

What the outcome will be on the border should be clear by tomorrow night but I have a good Plan B, just in case...

Lovely pics..

Bukhara.... Buxoro

Having passed through Urganch and crossed the ribbons of river that support a thriving horticultural zone around the Amurdayo river I headed north of Beruniy to visit three of the many ancient fortresses that lie in this region that now returns to desert largely due to the disappearance of the Aral Sea. 

They were imposing places with extensive views in every direction but slowly eroding away as the mud walls are rarely renovated after winter rains. A large 'nomad' camp with yurts provided the sort of faux experience so loved by the coach parties but having returned to the so called Royal Highway and headed towards Bukhara I turned off towards the river opposite Lebop which is in Turkmenistan and parked above a lagoon for a decent sunset. A few locals passed by and waved happily but at one point a guy stopped and liting his T shirt to show me a rather nasty looking and infected lesion asked me for money. A difficult situation as I had no idea what would be appropriate or even useful but in the end gave him the equivalent of a tenner, later finding out that rural workers earn less than £300/month so I hope it helped. My second Turkish gas cylinder has run out so I put in one of the four remaining CG 907s and am pretty sure each will last a month as with the temperatures in the high 30s and good value local food, there is no point cooking in the van and thus there is nothing in the fridge. Similarly there is no need for hot water for showering so gas use is almost non existent.

A couple of hours the following day brought me in to a park up in Bukhara right alongside the Ark (fortress) walls and by chance a car parked under the mulberry tree was just leaving so I was able to get some shade. I noticed the expedition truck of Frank and Andrea nearby so called over for a chat before taking myself off in to the Ark for its lofty views, cooling breeze and panoramic views over the flat city which assisted with orientating myself. Later I walked in to the main zone and was, as in Khiva, mesmerized by the minarets, towers, domes and arches of numerous mosques, madrasas and mausoleums. There were also a number of bazaars, usually under airy domes with avenues reaching out in various directions and it was here that traditional hand made crafts, clothes and souvenirs were on display for the tourists. These were mainly from the Stans and Russia but there were also surprising numbers of European and American tour groups and a few from the UK - this part of the world is clearly opening up to mass tourism which if nothing else will I hope dispel some of the myths, misconceptions and misunderstandings that many people unfamiliar with the region's history, culture and traditions of hospitality do not expect.

Back at the van there was a lot of activity nearby as preparations were underway for a large Gold and Jewellery Festival at the weekend with teams of lads working late in to the cooler evening to erect platforms to support enormous LED display screens to the beat of a huge sound system also being installed. The same teams started early next morning so after getting bread and yoghurt at the small shop directly opposite for breakfast I then headed off through the town once more to reach some of the further sights. On returning for lunch and a lie down in the van, shaded nicely by the tree I noticed the first UK plated vehicle in months - an imposing Iveco 4x4 with an accommodation box on the back. Colin and Liz are on an impressive journey which is well worth checking out at www.zigzaggingtheworld.blog and have undertaken a number of remarkable journeys over the years.

Later I walked in to town to see the major attractions lit up and stopped in the Lyab-i-Hauz square for a good meal alongside the pool with the impressive Nadir Divanbegi just behind. Walking back the Kalon minarets and mosque looked stunning after dark and I returned to the van stopping en route to watch rehearsals for the forthcoming dancing and entertainment.

The following day I explored a host of other sights out to the west in the morning including the excellent market, returned for the mid day cool off and then walked through the centre to visit the Chor Minor mosque and two almost identical medressas at Kosh facing each other. The Ulugbek one, built in1417, is Central Asia's oldest and led to over 100 others  being established with 10,000 students and over 300 mosques.

Colin and Liz joined me for a meal back at the Lyab square which was a great opportunity to exchange stories including the saga of their  passage throughTurkmenistan, although the singer alongside rather dominated the proceedings.

Although I had planned to move on the ever expanding attractions of the festival kept me in situ and after a much needed haircut I was off to the fairground for a rather genteel spin on the Ferris wheel to give me a novel view of the city and the oldest mausoleum, that of Ismail Samali, whose 2m thick brick walls have contributed to its longevity. In the park a guy crippled by cerebral palsy was parked in his wheelchair in the shade and it was touching how the numerous gardeners, street sweepers and passers by stopped to talk and interact with him to his obvious delight. Back at the van the parking guy said we would have to move the next morning as the area was needed for the festival and as I had spotted a large car park near the fair we both decided to move on next day, it was only a few minutes away and we didn't want to get hemmed in by the increasing numbers of barriers and security checkpoints.

Thus early next morning we moved on, parked in a corner and strung up my tarp between the two vehicles as there was no shade, incidentally my mulberry tree had dropped huge numbers of berries on my van which now had deep purple stains and looked rather a mess. I took myself off to a small shop round the corner that had a drinking water dispensing machine and to and froed with  two 10l water bottles a few times -  at 30p for 20 litres it was a bargain and the young woman in charge was delighted to meet Colin and I, as were the tourist bus drivers who all took a shine to Lolly....

6

It was his birthday, and they had kindly booked a table for 3 back in town so we walked through the large but friendly crowds out to look at all the jewellery and craft stalls that had been set up everywhere with one row dedicated to nations from around the world. I had stopped at the Great Britain tent earlier where a lovely young woman said she was actually from Afghanistan, had lived in Slough for a few years and was now in the UAE. The display of a few pieces of jewellery were hardly a showcase to the world of British craftsmanship but it was lovely to chat to her.

After a very enjoyable meal we walked back through what I can only describe as a warm river of humanity for a reasonably early night as we were to be up by 05.30 as they were catching the 7am train to Chiva neatly avoiding many hundreds of miles driving. Once the fireworks were over we slept well and were away at 6 the following morning having settled up our parking the previous evening as although the barriers were left up overnight it would have been wrong not to pay the few pounds a night.

After a safe delivery on time to the station I headed east towards the fabled city of Samerkand where I am parked up with the tour buses within easy reach of the main attractions. 

A nasty multi vehicle pile up on the opposite carriageway had involved two lorries, each carrying huge concrete bridge sections and an indecipherable number of other vehicles. All were totally burnt out with the fire probably caused by the bridge section moving forwards and rupturing the dozen or so methane tanks that often power these trucks. Apparently they operate at 250 bar which is insane and explains the solid blast walls that separate each filling point at the Metan stations. For people who think my travels are potentially dangerous the possibility of being involved in such an incident is to me the riskiest aspect.

It is very hot with no shade so you will find out if I survive by waiting for the next post...

Onward plans for Tajikistan face some uncertainty as apparently RHD vehicles may not be allowed in and my evisa application, including payment, has produced nothing so watch this space......

And look here

Khiva Chiva Xiva

 If a picture paints a thousand words then this link saves me a lot of writing.

A stunning place to spend a couple of days : Google will tell you far more than I could even begin to so just enjoy the visuals....

HERE

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