Fast Forward Kazakhstan

If you have the (mis)fortune to find yourself in Uralsk, make sure you find yourself a room at the Pushkin hotel. Named after a Russian poet, it is the only gig in town worth being at. It felt slightly hedonistic to book a 4star hotel on this trip, but the modernity on offer is in stark contrast to the real world outside it's front door.

To be fair to that little town it does try. . In the end Kazakhstan's end of term report could sound something similar to my own school reports. . . "tries, but could do better"

The main street of Uralsk is a blend of old colonial pre communist soviet buildings, a church from the 16th century, neat parkland, the ever present mighty Ural river, a sense of being closer to Russia than its Kazakh roots, modern art as a memorial to the red army and a hotel that insulates you with modern western influences.

That brief diversion from the way of life I have was very welcome. Not that it's difficult to be as nomadic as I am, it was just nice to find somewhere that was easy to communicate.

Fast forward a few days and I've travelled from Uralsk to Aktobe. An immediately forgettable location. A simple hotel provided a day to prepare for the long ride to Kostanay. A distance of 800km over roads that sometimes were and sometimes weren't. A testing day saw the scenery change from dry vistas that have characterised my journey through Kazakhstan so far to a far greener and consequently wetter area. Grass steppe populated by large numbers of huge birds of prey, that after some investigation appear to include eagles, buzzards and harriers gave way to farm crops as far as the eye could see. The thought of preparing the ground or harvesting those crops boggles my mind! it must be a huge undertaking if your field is the size of an English county! 

I posted a youtube video of the many and varied road conditions. Making progress was sometime a slow and painstaking affair.  

After arriving late on Monday in Kostanay I stayed 2 nights on the outskirts of the modern little  town, before again undertaking what turned out to be a mammoth trek to Astana. The first 100km of this 700km journey was easy enough with good tarmac under the wheels. Northern Kazakhstan is about on the same latitude as northern England and under typically cloudy 12°C skies it was cool enough first to swap to my heavier (warmer) gloves and even to switch the heated grips on for the first time since the Alps.

 As the weather darkened so the roads deteriorated from older tarmac to my personal favourite of deep potholed badly worn out tarmac to tarmac that no longer fitted the description. With rain now falling it was "pot luck" to avoid the deepest holes. As if that wasn't challenging enough the huge expanse of open flat land allowed me to see huge rain cells approaching as the clouds darkened still further. In places it wasn't possible to see the horizon as the curtains of water obliterated the view. 

Taking shelter from a particularly hefty downpour in a fetid bus stop I met a guy who was hitch hiking from Tbilisi to Mongolia, just for the fun of it! - And people think I'm adventurous!

Some 500km into the journey the road arrived in both Kokshetau and the 21st century, with a 3 lane motorway conducting me all the way to Astana through continued downpours whilst keeping a further weather eye on cars stopping at the roadside to purchase fruit goods from vendors, itinerant farm animals and wandering pedestrians. On a 120kph motorway! 

I have an 12th  floor apartment in Astana until the weekend when I will move close to the border prior to rushing into Russia.

Kazakhstan Konundrums

I know I've talked about inner country contrasts before but kazakhstan is the biggest difference I've noticed so far. While Georgia and Turkey showed dramatic differences between rich and poor. Haves and have nots, Kazakhstan has all that and more. Seemingly wealthy and "western" influenced major towns with every modern convenience. In Atyrau  ipod equipped roller bladers, cyclists and joggers share the river side with old fellas chewing the fat while they keep a sharp eye on their fishing line out in the Ural. Yet only an hours ride out of town rough breeze block buildings cower in the midday heat in dusty wind blown steppe. Air conditioning is THE luxury to have. And yet there are still teenagers with their nose buried in a mobile phone where ever you are. It's a universal truth.

The 21st century reaches even the poorest areas when the youth of the world need to access Facebook.

A two night stop over in Atyrau gave me time to rationalise my luggage a little. I haven't used the water container I'm carrying and other non essential items have been given away or left for any potential scavenger. I need to shed some weight and make life easier.

"We carry our fears in our luggage" was a word of wisdom I heard recently and it's true. Carrying everything I think I need is pointless. I either use it or its not worth carrying. The bike is significantly easier to handle as a consequence.

Tomorrow I head north to Uralsk, still on the Ural river it seems to be a place where maybe I can spend a little time before moving on again. Kazakhstan continues to be a land that opens your mind to new experiences. Wild, wide open spaces. Vast  windswept plains. Dry rivers and lakes baked dry by the sun. Camels, horses showing little interest in passing traffic even when they they stand in the middle of the road trying to stare out an 18 wheeler truck. I give way to a camel every time on my little bike!

Sand blown towns. Oil rich, modern cities. Poor Russian leftovers, new Japanese 4X4's and policemen with big hats. New tarmac. Lots of big road building projects and roads that don't even come close to the adjective. A dirt track would be a compliment. I'm sure there are areas on the moon that are easier to navigate. 

But in the end it is a country struggling to drag itself into the present day and overthrow the image presented by one comedy actor. I like it's spirit. It's people are as hopeful and modern thinking as any other I have passed through.

Thursdays 500km ride north to Uralsk on the first leg of my 1000km diversion was a seemingly unending straight road across flat open scrub land. This north Western side of Kazakhstan makes even Holland seem mountainous!  Huge, vast sweeping vistas to the  horizon and beyond sight populated by Camels, horses and remote low rise towns baked to a dusty crisp. Solitary people waiting for a bus ride literally in the middle of no where. I spent a while trying to figure out where someone like that had come from or was going, to be standing at the side of the road in the midday heat. 

I met two bike riders on the way. The first while I was still in Atyrau. Two up on a Ukraine registered BMW K1300 he was following his built in sat nav and heading direct to Aktobe. I offered him the advice I was given about the road and suggested that if a rider on a KTM adventure had found it difficult he might struggle on his continental cruiser. I don't know if he took my advice or decided to find out for himself. 

The second were again 2 up on a Russian registered BMW F800. I pulled up as they were stopped at the side of the road. All was well, but it seemed the pillion was less than happy. A thumbs down signal with the words kazakhstan said it all. They were running for home and the nearby Russian border. They whizzed past me a little while later with a wave that I  returned when I again passed them when they stopped a short while after. Not enough seat padding I suspect. 

I pre booked a hotel in Uralsk. Simply because it saves spending ages finding somewhere and sorting out prices and such. In this case booking.com came up trumps and a 4 star hotel at 3 star prices provides a welcome touch of luxury on the trip. 

From Uralsk I will again start to head east and back "on route" with 11 days to go to the start of my Russian chapter I've got time to take it easy and explore the areas I stop at and that's just fine by me. 

Kazakhstan Kruising

Well the border entry was a mess of paperwork, stamps, signatures, officious officials,  young military guys goofing around with a ready smile until the commandant was present. Mongolian faces. Stern faces. Red tape and more rubber stamping on reams of duplicated paper forms that needed counter signatures and recording in a ledger before seemingly being entered into a computer.

You get the picture!

An Australian guy on a bike heading west was going through the same process.

The cyclists managed to get through the technicalities quicker with no vehicle to register and I didn't see them again.

A hotel at 6000 tenge (KZT) is about £20. With shower fittings that aren't, but the water is hot, the bed is comfortable and that's enough.

First impressions of Aktau aren't wonderful, it appear to be rows of post soviet housing. But there are signs of newer modern buildings and like most ports or borders I'm sure it won't be representative of the rest of the country.

A MIG fighter reaches for the sky but is permanently tethered to the ground. As an art statement I'm not sure it's a very positive one.

So plan for day one is to get out of town assuming I can find fuel for the bike and myself on a  Sunday and head inland a way. Maybe that way I can lose the effect of the ships movement that my head still seems to be experiencing.

Sunday, realised I've slipped another hour. .hadn't noticed last night . But then I didn't notice a lot by the time border patrol had fried my patience.

The road to Beyneu was mostly ok a lot of it brand new . . But a big section in the middle was very hard rough track..

I need to rethink some of the routes and distances I can cover in a day. 

2 nights in Beyneu at a comfy little hotel gives me time to check the best routes that my little Kawasaki can deal with and by lucky circumstance avoid a massive thunderstorm with enough rain to fill the deepest of craters in the roads. . That would have been interesting!

So a ride to Atyrau was an easy 400+ km on good roads and relatively cool temperatures. I was expecting 40 degrees in the desert, but early in the day it was a comfortable low 20's.

From Atyrau I will head north to Uralsk and then south east to Aktobe. Its a very "long way round" but the only option to avoid a difficult road that I think would be too much for the Kawasaki to deal with. 

Baku . . Continued

(This blog entry and the ferry crossing entry will be posted after the event . .so be sure to read them in sequence so they make sense)

. . . . .

Well. . Kings pawn to e4 and check mate. . . Snookered behind the black and match point. They win I lose.

My only option on Tuesday has been to leave the bike parked in the customs area at the port because I am not allowed to ride it with the transit permit expired. It will either be ok or it won't.

Make or break point at the minute. If everything goes missing before I get back to it my trip will be changed. I hope the officials are as official as they seem. I'm sure I'm not the first to go through this loop.

In the meantime. I've got a hotel room and a phone number to call for news about the ferry departure.
Just got to sit tight and wait now, making a nuisance of myself to Vika on the phone until she says yes. She's the dame with the game and although I have the entry stake I don't know where the table is or which pack of cards we're playing with.

Good news time though is that the wonderfully efficient south Koreans have allowed me to reserve the ferry from Vladivostock online already. At least I know when that boat sails.

There's no immediate concern now. My personal visa is valid till the end of the month by and once the stars align I'll be gone. Getting to the Russian border by the time my visa starts shouldn't be an issue I hope. And if time and distance proves to be more critical in Russia  there is always the chance of boarding a train for a few miles .

. . .

The next day I get a positive answer from my morning phone call and am directed to get myself to the ticket office ASAP except no one seems able to give me clear directions to where the ticket office is actually located.  After chasing a wild goose all over town, I finally track down the mysterious Vika and I grasp the golden ticket. She says I should go straight to the port.

So just after 2pm i get to Baku port where the customs man tells me the ship is actually departing from Alat. . About 70km south west.

As my bike has been parked (safely as it turns out) in the customs office because the transit permit has expired that might be a problem. .

Or not! . . .  It seems, as the nice customs inspector takes my 72 hour vehicle transit document. . Stamps it . . Signs it . . And writes a few words with tomorrow's date on it. . "Good luck"

Thanks! . . . I think.

With no clear understanding of where I'm going I take the coast road out of Baku figuring the port will be by the sea! Near the town of Alat a sign to Baku international trade port looks right and is. . I think.

A police man says yes when i say kazakhstan?. . . I think.

The one man on duty in the eight possible passport control booths at a newly built gate with multiple lanes marked for trucks cars and vans says wait . . I think.

So I settle in what shade I can find for a while . .10 mins later he calls me to his post marked as exit only. But hey he's got a choice of any of them.

Check documents, waved through. Pointed to customs office where a nice lady . . . I think. . Glances at my passport and shoos me away. .

That's it? . . I think ?

Ride up the empty port road where a train is being shunted aboard. .While I wait, I'm directed to an office where a nice lady. . I think, takes 5 Azerbaijani manat (about £3) for something or other . .And I'm given another  ticket and directed aboard the Karabakh.