Finally arrested

We drive the whole day only interrupted for stops for food, water, petrol or a change of driver or a combination of them. At 3:30 we reach kungrad and it is decided we are going to spend the rest of the night here. Most sleep in the car, Drew and I sleep outside on my tarp and mats. Although not for too long I sleep quite well. The cars have had a beating by the rough road and we find a place to have the cars, especially the sj, repaired. In the meantime everybody has a shower and some time to relax in the sun. Halfway the afternoon we get back on the road again. Just after midnight of the 16th we have a short stop to drink some tea. I am congratiolated with my 33rd birthday by all the people who were not asleep and we buy some waffles as birthday cake. After that we get going until Buchara, which we reach around 12:00. Miraculously we bump into the Americans, who had spent the night a few hundred meters before our stop. This is already the second time we see them after our separation. Samarkand is not to far a way anymore and after a few hours we check into a proper hostel, with beds, hot water and nice food. Everybody is dead tired and all except me go to sleep. I have a quick visit of the famous town on the silk route. I am disappointed. Although there are beautiful buildings, they all are quite detached from the rest of the city. On my way back to the hostel I see a shoe repairman and ask him if he can mend my shoes. There is a hole in my left shoe and both shoes are slanted at the heels. He indicates me it is not a problem. As soon as I hand over my left shoe he takes his knife and starts cutting of the whole rubber sole. Now there is no way back and I let him have his go at my once great boots. It all takes more time than I expected and I make clear I will be back later and barefooted I return to the hostel to have a shower. When I return my shoes are ready, but they look monstrous. They used to be a size 43 but now soles of size 45 are fitted underneath. They do not walk great either.

All gather in the courtyard at eight to have a toast on my birthday and I have brought some proper cake to celebrate. We start with chacha and I get a glass full, while the others only a bottom, the foundation of my drunkenness. After another one and 2 vodkas we head for a restaurant. I am not sure all what happened there. Fact is that the next day I could not remember we had been served food and my shirt was wet. Although the plan was to get going again at a decent time we only leave around 18:30. At some point we get lost a bit (I was navigating) and I ask for directions. Because of the language barrier it takes a while before I get the message across and what the directions are. In the end they suggest we follow a car who will lead us to the proper road. We end up driving behind him for a quarter of an hour and when we stop he is happy he could have helped us. We feel like superstars also because everywhere we stop dozens of people surround the cars and motorbike. In Tashkent we get lost again and this time a taxi driver leads us the way out of the city. He drives in the middle of the road with emergency lights on as if we are a special convoy.

Then at 8:00 we get a serious roadblock. We already had several of them before, but most of the time we just kept driving even if they signaled us to stop. Only once our passports were checked. Although the policeman thought it strange I had no visa and he had to check with someone on the phone he told us to carry on. This time it is different though.

Several superiors are called to the case and I plea my case for more than an hour to them, the time comes to say goodbye to my fellow travellers. I try to put up a brave and happy face, but I feel sad to let them go. My bike and bag is taken off the SJ and all my other stuff is gathered as well. There is time to get everybody's email and to take a picture and a quick goodbye, but then I am loaded in to the back of a flatback army truck. Slowly my friends get smaller in the distance.

After a mad drive, the driver obviously does not mind the huge bumps and holes in the road, I arrive in Angern. I am interrogated for a while, with the help of an interpreter. They cannot believe i got in the country without a visa, without bribing anybody. they talk about deporting me to Holland, to which I protest vehemently, by telling them it was their fault they let me in and that I do not want to carry the consequences. They leave me, in the room for a couple of hours and admit later pn they had forgotten about me. I guess they do not know what to do with me. They put me in the truck again and drive me to Akhangaran. The truck breaks down halfway,which does not surprise me, considering his driving. Eventually in Akhangaran I wait in the courtyard of an unfinished building for a couple of hours. Propably I was waiting to be officialy carried over from the army to the police, because after I am taken by police officers to a police station. No one in the station speaks any English, it is already dark when a local English teacher is introduced to help to interpret. For the so four or fifth time I explain what happened. The situation will not be sorted out to night, so two officers take me out to a restaurant for dinner. For the night I have to sleep on a small bench and I share the roomwith an old smelly dog, but I do not smell to great either. The next day I am taken to an other office to get some signatures. When back at the police station I am asked to take the phone to talk to a woman who speaks English. She tells me I will be brought to Kazakhstan later that day. The day goes by but nothing happens. In the evening I am going out for dinner again, this time with the officer who is responsible for my case and his wife or mistress. When at the restaurant I am given the phone again to talk to the English speaking lady again. She tells me that I will be brought to Kazakhstan the next day.

Mongol rally

On August 11 I went to the Iranian embassy in Baku only to find out that they lost my application. Ten days waiting for nothing. They offered me a new form to apply again, only had to pay 65$ and wait an other 10 days and then they might let me into Iran. I decided to make a dash for the Kazakh embassy and apply for a Kazakh visa, which I knew I could get the same day. I filled in the form, handed over the 40$ and my passport and was told to pick up my passport at 5. In the meantime I could visit the harbor to find out when the next ferry to Aktau, Kazakhstan would leave. The departure times of the ferry are some what of a secret and are only disclosed a few hours before departure. I was told to return at four and then they might tell if it would depart the same day. When I returned to the harbor at 4 I met some people of the Mongol rally, I had seen before a week before at the velotrek hotel. They had been waiting more than a week for the ferry to depart. They were able to tell me the ferry most likely was setting sail to Aktau the same night. Now I had to hurry to the embassy to fetch my passport, then to the hotel to get my bag and then down to the harbor again. I had a football match scheduled with some Afghans at seven, which I was invited for by Mozes. I had met him on the department of foreign affairs of Azerbaijan when I got my Azerbaijan visa extended. Unfortunately I had to call this off, although I had been looking really forward to my first match in months.

In the harbor it was not straight forward to get a ticket. The boat had not sailed for quite some time so many people wanted to be on it and space was limited. After waiting a couple of hours I got my ticket for me and my bike, for which they charged me a ridiculously high amount. In the harbor I was welcomed by the guys and girl participating on the Mongol rally. They had been sleeping there for the last week. After a while a man came by to tell me I had to pay an extra amount of money for my bike. No one was really able to explain me where the money was for, but they advised me to pay it anyway as I would not want to risk my boarding. With huge regret I coughed up the few extra dollars. We boarded at around one in the morning but only left around seven. Originally I shared a cabin, with Tommie, one of the 'Mongols', but we were evicted for a family. I ended up in a cabin with 3 Kazakhs. The next day at 04:00 we arrived in Aktau, after a lot of waiting and inefficient operations we were able to leave the ship at 11:00. Then we had to go through customs and past border control, which took another few hours. The 11 'Mongols' were going to put 2 cars on a truck to go through the desert. They feared the 2cv, rover metro and the motor cycle would not survive the trip. I was invited to put my bike in the truck as well and I gladly joined. With me joining it was a little bit more crowded than expected, but with four in the lada and sj, two in the 2cv and three in the back of the cabin of the truck it worked out quite well.

In the first night the sj broke part of the rear suspension, but the guys managed to repair it on the spot. The next day we reached the Uzbek border. An exiting moment for me, as I had no visa for Uzbekistan. I tried to find out from the border officers if I would be able to get an Uzbek visa at the border. They said it never had been done and they told me I could not pass. I decided to go to the office responsible for the crossings and gave them my passport. Without looking for visa they stamped for my exit and I was free to cycle out of Kazakhstan. The next hurdle probably would be more difficult, but there was no way back now. I went to the Uzbek custom office, filled out two forms and was put through to the office of the border control. Slightly nervous I entered the office, I was certain I would have serious problems; also these officers did not even for a second search for a visa, but searched for an empty page in my passport and stamped it. I now was officially admitted to Uzbekistan. I could not believe my luck. I did not want to draw any attention to me by hanging around the border waiting for the others to pass the border so I went to a small cabin at the other side of the road to drink some tea. The local people were not accustomed to cyclist so they invited me for soup, bread and the inevitable vodka. After a while Cyrus came in to tell me I better got going as the cars were about to go through and that they would pick me up just out of sight of the border, to avoid extra attention of the police. After buying a bottle of water I started cycling through the Uzbek desert. I expected the 'Mongols' to catch up with me any minute, but whoever came, no 'Mongols'. I cycled until the sun went down and then decided to stop for the night. I have no light on my bike. Fortunately I had asked for bread at a restaurant I had passed earlier. For water I just stopped every car that passed me and they all gave a bottle. To be sure the 'Mongols' would not pass me undetected I slept close to the road and I lit a candle. At 12 o'clock the truck in which the cars had been, passed me. The truckers indicated the 'Mongols' were still to come. I assumed one of the cars had a break down and the truckers had not wanted to wait. When I woke at seven in the morning, the candle was out and I was unsure if they already had passed me. I had a quick breakfast and got cycling again. The wind was against me, the road was full of wholes and unsurfaced, it was very hot and I was totally out of energy. I found a little deserted cabin and decided to stay there for a couple of hours. Inside it seemed inhabited, but at the moment no one was there. I found a cup with lumps of sugar and took a few, to replenish my energy. I put some Tenges next to it to compensate the owner of the hut. After an hour Tommie on his motorcycle came blazing by. I was surprised that he did not stop, but when passing me he yelled:'Can't stop. My clutch is stuck. The others are coming'. This was good news. After half an hour the lada pulled up. In the front seat was a police officer. The lada apparently did not have the proper license plates and now they would have to be escorted by the police the whole route through Uzbekistan.
The Americans were not able to stop for long, the officer already was annoyed. After a long time finally the brits came by. As of a matter of factly they invited me to join them, although the cars already were heavy loaded. I was happy to embark on the rally again.

Waiting for the visa

On the first of August I applied for an Iranian visa. I have to wait 10 days until I get the answer. I hope they allow me, although I have met quite a few people who were denied. If they deny me I will try to get into Kazakhstan

Baku has a very western center, this is a view on the old part.













On the way to Lahic we stopped for water. The local restaurant held this bear in a cage to attract customers. Not only was he in a small cage he was chained as well. Animal rights are not a big thing in Azerbaijan.









I visited Lahic for a few days to do nothing in the mountains instead of the city.










I climbed a hill near Lahic and saw this gigantic bird of prey with a wing span between 1.5 to 2m (not clear on the picture unfortunately) circling up on the hot air. It passed me on about 10 meters. Down in the valley a ridge the Russians long ago started to build.







One of the advantages by not cycling is that you can have nice breakdowns. The old bus out of the mountains broke down twice, but with the help of the passengers and bystanders it was revived twice.








I am staying in the Velotrek hotel. This is the view I've got from my window.

To Baku

You can find the strangest things sold next to the road. This obviously is still in Georgia, as Azerbaijan is predominantly Muslim and not to keen on pork.

In this beautiful kervanseray in Seki, I had the luck to be able to spend a night. I had been told you always had to make a reservation, but I managed to get the last available room without, just before a Swedish guy, just coming in after me.


I left Seki late in the morning, waiting for the rain to stop. Eventually I got on the way in the pouring rain. At times I was cycling down in 10cm deep water. In this picture the road has partly been destroyed. The Niva waiting almost was washed away crossing.

On the road to Qabala a man preparing dinner, sheep.




These guys took me into the mountains in their lada. The lada's seem to be capable of more than I expected. The road was often non existent, but still we managed to get through without having to push. They also helped me finding a hotel.






To get in Samaxi I had to climb a gruesome hill. It was not only that it was steep, also that it had rained and the mud was 5cm deep. I could only get up in my lightest gear, but still I got out of breath.

From Samaxi to Baku, had some empty, barren stretches and finally the sun came through, in spades.

Tbilisi

A wedding of four couples in the big church in the centre of Tbilisi










A view on the river with church










Levan came to pick me up, but at first did not manage to restart the car. We thought we were out of petrol. Some of Levans old friends were so kind to fetch some. It turned out this did not help either. After a while Levan found out that apart from sticking the key in the ignition you first have to use another key to unlock the starting mechanism. With this knowledge put to practice we had no problems starting.

Georgia

July 17 had a beautiful bright morning, which made me reconsider my decision to abort the hiking trip. I did not feel like doing the same path again for two days and packed my bike and embarked. By going down I realized how steep the climb up had been, I had to almost brake to the maximum to not accelerate. In the shady parts it was still chilly, so I was glad I had put my jacket on to stop the wind when I was going faster. After Camlihesim the road is less steep, still I make it to the coast in record breaking time. In the last town before the border, Hopa, I relaxed and updated my journal. On the terrace it strikes me that there are more girls than usual and that they are wearing more western style clothes i.e. revealing more of themselves. I like it. Passing the border is easy, no money needs to be paid, Europeans do not need a visa to enter Georgia and I only have to show my passport to half a dozen people. Right after the border I am welcomed by a guy selling a local type of bread filled with cheese, Katchapouri. He wants to give me a plastic bag full, but I convince him two are enough. They taste great and are not the last ones I eat in Georgia. When I tell them I am Dutch, he and his friends repeat with “Sandra good”, referring to the Dutch first lady. I also learn my 3 essential Georgian words. I try to learn them for every language of a country when I enter: “hello”; “goodbye” and “thank you”. I might not be able to talk to them, I at least can be a little polite to them in their language. The Georgian equivalents are respectively (written as I pronounce it): “camardjoba”, “nachvamdis” and “madloba”. I spent the night on the beach south of Batumi in my tent, which I get in a configuration I like and will be using from now on. My bicycle turned up side down, acting as main tent pole. From there the tent moves down ending in 2 low points about 30 cm above the ground attached with little ropes to stones or sticks in the ground. The sides of the tent I secure with stones. So the front is a triangle and the rear is a delta. The tent tarp is above aswell as under me so I have no problems with wet grounds (in theory).

The next morning I take a dive in the sea instead of a shower. I badly need it, even I think that I smell badly, which is not so strange when not showering for a week. The water is wonderfull, not cold at all, only beaches at the black sea tend to be of stones instead of sand, so going in and out is sometimes tricky. After I have packed everything it starts to rain again. Soaking wet I take refuge in a church in Batumi. Apparently my shorts are to short to official church regulations and I am sent back to the rain. I put my shorts down till they are over my knees but this gesture is not appreciated.

On advice of my French cycling examples, in the evening I set up camp behind a petrol station. When the owner finds out, he invites me to set up camp in his garden. Later on he offers me to sleep in a sort of arbor and he also offers an old mattress which I gladly accept, so I do not have to set up my tent at all. They also let me have a hot shower and feed me a hot meal. At first I was a bit scared with them as 2 huge security guys with big shotguns were walking around, but they also were very nice. The cook wants to ride my bike for a while and is gone for half an hour and is happy as a child when he returns.

The next night I stay on a little field near Zestaponi surrounded with blackberries. To come there at first I try to climb up at a steep part, pushing my bike. Almost up I slip on the wet ground and I fall with bike and all right through the blackberry bushes. Not much harm done only scratches on arms and legs, the bike is still in one piece. 200m further down the road I find a decent path leading to the field, I even could cycle it. After setting up the tent I eat all the berries I can. At first I have to share the field with a(nother) pig, but he maybe can not bear my smell and leaves. At night I am woken up by the rain that is raining in. I had not positioned my tent correctly and the wind came in through the front. I take out my rain poncho and hang it in the entrance, which solves the problem. Unfortunately my sleeping bag, I had been using as pillow was now a bit wet. I decide to lie underneath it to warm me and hopefully dry it in the process.

The next day the plan is to sleep near to Gori, so I can reach Tbilisi the next day, but cycling is hard. Every time the road goes up I have to shift back to a very light gear, I seem to have no power what so ever. When I am sitting by the road eating my brunch I notice that quite a few trucks are going up and down very slow. This makes me realize that the gradient might be higher than I thought.