Into the land of Borat.

The border crossings seem to be getting easier.     We're getting used to the various forms and just go through the process.   We even ignore the AK47s or whatever firearm they're carrying around.
got into Almaty and went through the hassle of  finding accommodation that's reasonably priced, hopefully WiFi and secure parking for our bikes.    Texted the co-ordinates of the hotel to Ben and lo and behold, a few hours later and looking very second hand, they fall into our room.    They had been up some pretty rough trails.  Snow, ice and some hard river crossings.  Dave and I were pleased that we made the 'asphalt' decision.     We had some interesting food choices as we were over the road from a bazaar. Gippo burger wasn't too bad.

 Dave and I headed off earlier than the Hickeys and managed to find a roadside café that did great mutton chops.    I'll be looking for mutton when I get home.      Goat too.  That's not an unhappy expression, just concerned that my arms have the strength to operate the knife and fork.

Kazakhstan lived up to its reputation and proved that the Borat movie was a documentary after all.   The Hickeys caught up to us at the border into Russia, which again proved to be quite and easy crossing.  The Russian guards were happy to push us to the front to save time.

Kyrgyzstan..............Land of contrasts

A free 'at the border' visa and a fairly easy entry into Kyrgyzstan.     The contrast from one side of the border to the next was amazing.  Before the border, roads were rubbish, countryside fairly dry with a few herds of goats and horses being shepherded around by mainly young kids.   After we crossed the border we climber up the Arka Alaj Mtn. Range on a very good road.  Possibly designed by a motorcyclist.   Almost new and probably paid for by China or some other country's assistance.  But like most big projects in this part of the world, parts were already failing.   You'd be cruising along at a good healthy rate of knots on a good stretch of asphalt, fly around a bend and find 100 metres of rough gravel road. 

 We travelled on to Osh where we stayed at a pretty good hotel.   Ben and Peter sent up their tents as there was only one room available, and as I had been down a few times and a bit tender, they decided it was the right thing to do.    Thanks!
We were wondering about finding a repair shop for my bike as I had no front guard and the handlebars and wheel were not pointing in the same direction, when one of the other motorcycle riding guests said that there was an XT600 specialist in town, and that he'd take us out next morning.   It was a Swiss guy who rents them out for tours.   So the bike had an oil change, forks almost straightened, new chain guard fitted, new chain roller whittled out of an old piece of rubber and fitted and a flash blue front guard which appears to be off a later model XT.   We left on the third morning, Dave and I taking the asphalt and the Hickeys taking to the dirt again.    The plan was to meet in Almaty, Kazakhstan in about 3 or 4 days.  
As Dave and I were riding out of town, my switchblock started issuing smoke and the unmistakable smell of burning loom.   The traffic was hell and I put my bike out of harms way and started to strip it down.   Disconnected the switchblock and luckily, the ignition circuit had not been affected.     Dave had backtracked by failed to see me and headed off towards Kyrgyzstan.  The usual way to get to Bishkek from Osh is via Uzbekistan and that's what Garmin tried to force us to do.  But we both persisted and after being lost many times, found the correct route north.      Luckily Dave and I have done enough ks together that we both headed off knowing we'd meet somewhere along the road.   A few hours later I stopped at another charming roadside eatery for some meat on a stick and a coke and within 20 minutes Dave was helping me eat it.

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Nice front guard.   Dave says that I must keep it on when we get home.   Lemming's rule!

 The asphalt was good.   Scenery and roads where well up to scratch.  We were  riding through the high plains, about 2000m with a couple of spectacular 3000m+  passes.       Not one car or truck hesitates to overtake another while heading towards you.   Being forced into the gravel verge becomes a part of you day.

 The area is famous for its horses which are herded by nomads and rented out for rides into the foothills.  

 The 3586m pass at Alou Pass.  

 Bishkek was just out of our reach so stayed at a Soviet inspired hotel.  Very 'charming'.  I'm sure it was still bugged.   Headed onto Bishkek, a quite nice, modernish and clean town.   By luck, we found a great Turkish restaurant and had one of the best Turkish meals I've had.  The owner was from Adana.   Dave said that he must be on the run to be this far east.
Removed the switchblock. Thought I may be able to sort out the mess but finally at Dave's insistence, we just hard wired the headlight and put the bike together.   No one here uses blinkers and my horn wasn't too loud anyway, that's another thing to fix when I get home.

We left Bishkek and headed towards Kazakhstan, Almaty and the Hickeys.

Really into Tajikistan

Getting out of the Uzbekistan border a second time was almost as long the first, but we were much quicker filling out the forms. 

The country looked much harsher and more mountainous as we headed south to camp at Iskanderkull Lake in the same named National Park.  it was getting late as we arrived and we hastily set up our tents.  The view across the lake to the mountains was a post card.  We  built a camp fire and made a meal of the various things we had. Not a great meal!   Just as we were about to hit the mattresses, a local TV doco team turned up and interviewed us about our views of Tajik..... we'd been in the country for about 6 hours.

 Our camp site.  The ground was rocky... hard to get pegs in and you could feel them through the mattress.   Very cold during the night.

Next morning we again headed south to the Pamir Highway, one of the world's great adventure roads.  but before we could get there, we had to get through the Anzob Tunnel.   Its about 6km long and has been a disaster since it was built.  Its covered in water, so you can't see the huge deep potholes.   Out of these potholes stick metre long curled reo bars.  There is water gushing from the water table and its unlit.  My mudguard directed water directly into my sparkplug and I needed to stop 3 times to clear it.   The diesel fumes made it hard to breathe, but we all got through.  We should have received medals.  The pics aren't great, but will give you an idea.

 Survived the Tunnel of Doom.   Google it.

We didn't stop in Dushanbe but headed to the Afghan border. Spent the night in Kulob in a fantast retro Russian hotel. No lifts (we were on the 4th floor), no hot water  and we all needed a shower, so had cold ones in another room as there was no water all in our rooms), no TV, and no power until we complained and they got it going.  And no breakfast!  Any way next morning we where at the Pang River which separates Tajik from Afghanistan.

 No asphalt in these parts but the roads were not too bad some of the time.  GPSs were working fine thanks to Ben's work on the maps.

 Dave on one of the good sections before it turned to bulldust.  This road was full of  huge trucks in convoys which made for hasrd going.

 When we got to the border, we followed it for about 2 days.  The pic below is a small Afghan village.  People were friendly and frequently waved.

We were surprized at the number of cyclists we saw.   Lone guys, couples and one group of 3 Polish girls.  In the middle of nowhere we would see these crazy people. 

 Dave having a pose with the local kids while Peter worked on his flat tyre.  These kids were great. Brought us cherries and water while we waited.

Typical packing and maintenance mess.  Below is pic of the bike having a quiet lay down.  Crested a rise and realised the road went where I was not expecting it to go.   The rocks looked like they'd been put there especially for me to hit.   

 Mudguard wedged itself into a crevice and snapped off.    I had to completely unpack the bike to get it back on the road.  I was at the rear of the group, so help was going to be a long time coming.

 Genuine Afghan camel caravan across the river.

 The bike was tired again a bit later and had another rest.  This was just deep sand.  I almost saved it, but it went the other way and spat me off.   Lucky I'm a tough old guy.

 Typical gravelly sandy type of road.  This is one of their main highways.

Another charming road side café.  Greasy water, some spuds, carrots and either goat or mutton.  They call it soup.

 This was our last home stay in Tajikistan.  These towns are really tough little places.  The people are fantastic, but have so little. This town had a water pump for fresh water and people lined up to pump their 2 buckets worth.

 Getting petrol meant buying from the local bootlegger who filled the bikes from old oil containers and coke bottles.  bike looks great without a front guard, but a bugger in a puddle.

During this stage of the ride we were riding at over 3000mts and up over 4000mts at a couple of the passes.   A bit of a strain, but no real altitude problems.

 The team at the Akbajtal Pass at 4655mts

 Crazy cyclists.

 Lake Karakul, just before leaving Tajikistan

The result of not having a front guard, and I was dodging the puddles. This was taken in the no mans land (20km) between Tajik and Kyrgyzstan.

Into Tajikistan

Got up, not feeling my best, but we packed and headed for the border.   About 250km of not so great roads which doesn't do a crook gut  much good.    Dave was starting to feel a little crook as well and the heat on top of all this.   Finally got to the border and told 'no, border closed'  Locals were crossing, but not us.  Another 40 or so km and we get to the next one after being stopped for a long time at a road block while they copy all our personal and bike details.  

Then to the actual border.  About an hour or two, including the bike luggage search.   Then thru no-mans land to the Tajik entry. Fill in the forms and hand them in.  "Problem!"  It seems that the guy in Istanbul who issued our visas put 2012 instead of 2013 in one section and that ruled out our entry.  clearly it was a typo, but no. "not my department"  They ejected us from their side of the fence back into no-mans land.  We were reluctant to move as we'd left Uzbek and not sure if they'd let us back.   Ben went and spoke with Uzbek., they said OK, but we'd have to re-enter.   Another set of forms for us and our bikes, etc, etc, etc.     Then a 90km ride to Tashkent so we could sort it out.  Another police check in the blazing heat for a hour or so.  90km took about 2.5 hours.  Dave getting crooker by the minute.

Found a guest house and Dave and I took to our beds whilst Peter and Ben had a couple of vodkas and beers with Ari.   Peter arranged for some rice, tea and bread for me while successfull fighting off the attention of several females.    The food was great and I started to feel better, so back to sleep only to be woken from a deep sleep with one of Peter's friends standing over my bed offering a 'massage.  Of course I declined.  She insisted.  I strongly declined and she left me to my sleep.

 

Anyway, woke up feeling better and we should pick up our visas this arvo and head back to the border to do it all again.  Went for a walk around Tashkent, found the railway museum.  Thier attention to detail in the restoration left a bit to be desired.

They do a really good railway station in the former Soviet Republic.  The police stopped me taking more pics.  He demanded to see my camera and check the previous pics.  He saw the ones from the railway museum and put me down as another crazy train spotter from the west.

Finally up to date!

Getting out of Turkmenistan and into Uzbekistan

We headed north along the worst asphalt road we've ridden on.   Pot holes the size of our front wheels and about as deep.  They were in the process ( for the last 5 years) of preparing the desert beside the road as a new road and we made use of that for a fair bit of the time.  It was rough but didn't have the surprising craters.
The usual hours to cross the border and we headed for Nukus.    On the way we bumped into a couple of French riders that we shared a hotel with in Goreme and they stayed at the same place.   It was quite pleasant as there were other travellers there as well as cold beer, so it was OK.

Ben and Dave's bikes getting a well earned spruce up.  First wash for the trip.

 

Next morning we decided to ride up to  'not' see the Aral Sea.  Its been drying up since the 60s.   Probably due to some Russian wiz diverting a river to grow cotton.  The shore line is now hundreds of km from the water's edge.

They do a great sand over here.  I think that they invented it, or at least perfected it. Dave strayed from the bad track into even worse sand.

 The biggest note is 1000 sums and there are 2600 per $.   This is the amount to fill up the tank on the Tenere!

 We returned to Nukus for the night and headed east and stayed at Khiva (Xiva) which still has its old walled section still standing.  It was a bit touristy in the mosque area but original where we stayed in a magnificent old home..

"Yeah mister, we'll look after your bikes!"

 

 Just another desert pic in case that you think this is all luxury touring.  

 Dave and I stopped at this charming little roadside diner and had their local soup.    Mutton.  Dave said that it was too old to be road kill as it wouldn't have been able to cross a road.  I thought that there was barley in it as well as potatoes and a lone carrot, but no, it was ground up gristle.  Not too bad in fact.  A bit mutton fatty , but filled the spot.

 

 Then to the next stop on the Silk Road, Bukhara.    Another caravanserai.   A mix up had Ben and Peter staying at another one just up the alley. 

The old town was great, as most of them are. Went to a restaurant and sat not far from a mulberry  tree, not too  healthy, but planted in 1477.  

 For the CoM Parks team.  The water pressure here is pretty poor, and they make the sprays a feature!

Next morning we headed further east to Samarqand, the city that Alexander the Great set up as his base after he convinced them it would be in their best interests.   Stayed at a nice little B&B, splashed our clothes around in some water and hung them out. 

The local kids decided the bikes were a new playground and left no switch unswitched.  My can of chainlube was spayed all over my seat and panniers.  I wouldn't have been so unhappy if they'd got some on my chain.  Kids, don't you love 'em.

  Went for our walk  in the cool of the evening before  sitting down to a magnificent meal.

  Probably the best meal of the trip.  Lots of vegetable entrees followed by a vegetable soup with noodles and a big dob of sour cream and dumplings that we dropped in.  This was with a lovely bottle of Russian white wine.   April 2013 was on the label!   Bad doesn't describe it.  We had ordered plov, a traditional meal which is a pile of rice with some meat on top, usually mutton, but in this case meat in vine leaves and then a decent amount of mutton fat poured over.   At this point I was not feeling all that flash and decided that I'd had enough.  The other three well were into it!

We had a team meeting to discuss routes and I silently crept off to bed as I was feeling unwell.

I had a sleepless night with several visits to the toilet.  I had taken a bait and was suffering in the worst possible way.  Sitting one minute, kneeling the next.    The next day was to fairly easy.  To the border and into Tajikistan and onto the Pamir Highway.