Tuesday 2nd July 2013

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Wake at 6am. The outside of the tent is black with flies. Cover up, long trousers and dash out. After a short while, however, a slight breeze blows them all away. Then we could appreciate the grandeur and spectacle all around us. Which ever way you look there are mountains, some capped in snow or clouds. The lake is glittering, it looks so inviting. I ask everybody if they fancy a swim. I go solo. It is fresh but not cold, and slightly salty. I am wary as this is the first time I have swum since damaging my knee. I just kick about. Lying on my back I watch terns and oyster catchers. Swans take off noisily. This is bliss. Slight yoghurt issue.

On the road we pass very little children in a school playground. Brightly coloured blankets hang over the wall, presumably to sit on or to have a nap. Not sure how far we want to go today. Maybe visit Karakol, the regional capital, and check if the border really is open. Our route will be along the lake and through the Karakol valley. No mountain ranges to cross today. We may even cross into Kazakhstan, but secretly we all want to stay in KYR longer. Kazakhstan and the little bit of Russia we enter are hard transportation days. We want to defer as long as possible, but we we thrilled last night when we were talking about entering Mongolia in less than a fortnight. Tim and I have to enter before 15th July. Atle said there are plenty of lakes for me to swim in there.

Just looked in the back of Landy, the water melon has hitched a ride!!!! Who sneaked that in? Tim feeling great in the mornings, lousy after malaria tablets. Should we have bothered? Glad he now realises what is making him feel so bad. Swifts. Pictures of people displayed on lamp post, some still living, some dead. Famous people of the area? Red kite. Glad Hilda and Atle pleased with speed Tim is driving at. Kid on a swing. Do people have yurts in their garden as they are cheaper and easier to heat in the winter?

Oil barrel house. Tiny resort. Only thing on beach were sheep. Hospitality huts, not quite ready for the summer season. Large abandoned Soviet hotel. Kazakhstan car. Water is so clear, turquoise and blue. Exclusive development of wooden chalets. Everything else very down at heel. Fighter plane displayed on cliff – Lightning Jet? Beautiful wooden stock fences, a real work of art. Children trundling milk churns. Great elation for the men, a Range Rover. Pungent burning rubbish on edge of town. Not sure recycling has hit the Stans yet. Man sitting on back of open truck, operating a cherry – picker with two men in the basket. Accident waiting to happen. Little girl in pink herding goats.

Had a wonderful couple of hours in Karakol. Looking for the Tourist Information I am approached by a young woman. Can I help you? How did she know I was a tourist? Irana used to work at the Tourist Information. She offers to take us there. We meet a young man, who also speaks English. Next month he is going to study at Bergen University. What a coincidence. Hilde talks to him and they swop contact details. Maybe they will meet in Norway. We confirm the crossing at Karkyra is open. Tim buys his first map on the trip, bit annoyed it wasn’t folded properly. Hilde buys traditional hat for Atle. He wears it all over town. Locals don’t notice a thing.

When we look for a place to eat, the first is closed until evening, as Ramadan started yesterday. Irana takes us somewhere else, and helps choose traditional dishes of Lagman. Won’t need to cook later. Atle says the noodles were better than the ones Hilde cooked last night. Irana tells us a little about herself. She was born and brought up in Karakol. She is now married and lives with her husband’s parents, as he is the youngest son. Nuff said!!!! She went to university, which is affiliated with the University of Central Asia we saw yesterday. For one year she was on an Erazmus placement in Belgium, and spent a month in Yorkshire. She now works for a Japanese company who are helping local people market their produce. She took us to the community shop, where jams, honey, soaps are all made with fresh local ingredients. They also make felt, turning it into hats, waist coats, slippers, handbags and ornaments. All the dyes are natural. Tim bought a pendant for the car, and Atle and Hilde bought the shop out.

Irana also runs a guest house, but we plan to carry on and camp near the border. Put two cans of beer in the fridge and set off. Tim was saying that KYR has a wonderful sense of optimism. Although the average wage is only $100 a month, people support each other in families, they are mostly self sufficient for basic foods, and countries like Japan are pouring a lot of aid and expertise into the country. Even their flag looks like a smiling yellow sun on a red background.

Arrive in Tup. Isn’t that what you do to sheep? Heading towards another mountain range, but I think we turn right and drive along the Karkyra valley. Mountains on one side, river on the other. Darn it, didn’t look for a kettle. 3pm. Are we going for the border today, or in the morning? Horses on the road at home are so precious. They are usually being ridden, the rider signals to slow and drivers have to creep around them. Here, the horses, ridden or not, don’t bat an eyelid, and drivers just carry on.

Going to try for the border today. Not sure of the opening times on the Kazakhstan side. Is there a time difference? Sorry not to be camping another night here. In KZ we have to stay in hotels, and drive at 50kph. Tim reckons we haven’t seen another GB car since Hungary. Think the Cornlanders will be heading back from Romania soon. We arrive at crossing 4.10pm. Up on a high plateau, you can see why it is only open in summer. Remember, some of the officers may be fasting, and hungry by now.

Barrier sways precariously in the wind. Muscled guard in cut away shirt sleeves is using the fence as a ballet bar. Lots of handshakes for the men and pats on the backs. Diesel? Yes. Common language. We leave at 5.20pm. Best one yet.

Have to head to Kegan, as we need to sort out insurance. We think. Also get some currency. See rain sweeping in from the west. Not sure we can do much wild camping here. Hail stones and leaking footwell. No insurance or currency in Kegan. Even asked a policeman, Atle’s NBF. We move on. Remember the speed limit is 50kpm. 16 million people live in KZ, which is the size of Western Europe. Thought Iran was big.

So another country. What will the people be like? Have a planning meeting in lay by. Not much between here and Almatay. Stop if we see anything interesting, press on if not. Wow, these plains are enormous. No habitation for miles, nothing. What a contrast again, it is staggering. Nowhere to camp out of view. Long straight roads. First time we have headed west for a while, evening sun blinding. Very little traffic. No animals. No fences. No trees. Feel like the only ones left on earth. Climb up. Moonscape. Back down to another endless plain.

A bus stop. But where do people come from to catch a bus? A couple of fast cars overtake us. Phew. We are not alone. A solitary tree planted next to a memorial stone. Wooden hut. Door locked. A settlement, Kokpek. Chinese coach. Then a gorge.

More vegetation appears gradually. Smell fresh after downpour. Trees line the road. Little stalls. Range Rover. Go through town. More litter than I’ve seen in several countries. Buckets with homegrown produce in. Vendors sitting patiently in shade.

Local cars slow down. Atle overtakes. Police speed trap. Pull him over. He has another NBF!!!!! Let him go without a fine. Jammy toad. Another lower plain. More vegetation, but nothing cultivated. Sheep. Another little town. More traffic. Crazy driving. Men putting swish new gates up at end of drive. Little market still busy.

Pull up at swanky hotel. Hilde and I do our double act. No room!!!!! Go next door. They don’t mind that we smell, they let us in. Meet in restaurant, beer, lamb and chips.

Wednesday 3rd July 2013

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Almaty to ????

Realise we are one country, Russia, away from Mongolia, our original destination. We have a lie in, and meet for breakfast at 9. Atle points out that Norway is also one country away from Mongolia – Russia!!!!!.Then the luxury of a morning off. Tim and Atle go out to buy insurance, £5 for two cars, and get local currency, the tenge. Thought HSBC were the Listening Bank. They must be suffering a temporary hearing loss. Anyway, Hilde and I do the washing, and put clothes on towels in the back of car. See how that works. My mislaid glasses turn up at the first hotel, handed in by someone. Thank you. We stroll down the main drag, and go into a few shops. Buy nothing. Check out and have drinks on the terrace. Talk that the enormity of what we have achieved so far comes home when we hear from family.

Tim and Atle join us. Atle has just read there will be elections in Mongolia soon. Should be peaceful, as the president should be re elected. Send emails to the British and Chinese Embassies in Ulan Baataarar, asking for help with visas. Tim now looks very dapper in his new sandals, after I drag him to ONE shoe shop.

Almaty is a very western city, we can recognize shops and all the hoardings are in English. This is the financial centre for Kazakhstan. KZ has an oil source which will produce more oil than America has already. They have every known natural resource and are the richest of the Stans. However, it will take time for this wealth to filter down to all the people, especially in rural areas. The random bus stops will have been part of the Soviet plan – we need buses to go here, we will build bus stops here. But the buses never run. We now realise the reason for the extortionate bill last night, and the price of the hotel.

Got hold of all the Gardners last night, good to see you Will. Esme had been cycling, so very tired. Just a quick catch up. She is visiting her new school today. Hope she enjoys it. Couldn’t get hold of Rachel, will try again soon. Had lovely emails from Martin and Collette. Thanks, it’s great to know you are thinking about us. Oh, by the way. The bird we saw was an Egyptian Vulture. Thanks Martin.

Disaster. Think we have over – soaked our neck scarves, some crystals are oozing out. Hope not toxic. Have fun getting out of city. Atle and Hilde were leading, their sat nav was not showing the streets and they were on the wrong channel for the CB. Eventually, Tim has a brainwave and their sat nav now works. Well done geek. Heading north. Need fuel, get the cars washed, buy some bread and a kettle. Will do all that out of town.

Get stopped by police. Tim tries to say we were not speeding. We weren’t. But we did not have our lights on. $50 down. Atle has his side lights on, but not head lights. Another $50 dollars down. And no receipt. Oh well. At least we got service with a smile.

Atle lent me the menu he purloined in Osh. Here are a few more offerings:-

Liver of Chinese
Herring undera a fur coat
Vegetable all sorts
Cheese cutting
Friend tongue
A borsh an Ukranian
Soup hen
And my favourite – The mutton baldribs ( in an environment of vegetables).
There, now someone can laugh at my Russian any time they like.

Lots of people being stopped by police, even locals. Roadside stalls cooking kebabs, delicious aromas. Bird poohed on woman’s head as she stood in shade under a tree. 2.30 pm and very hot. Need to check weather reports for Mongolia, don’t want to get stuck in monsoon mud. Locals slow down, so do we. Four huge casinos with expensive shiny cars outside. Car doing the towing broken down. Holiday resort on huge man made lake, only a dozen people there.

Crystals seem to be being re-absorbed. Good. The scarves don’t resemble a neck brace so much. People seem to be more sophisticated here, less waving at us and saying welcome. Maybe they couldn’t be bothered that we are there, or maybe they have more foreign visitors. Well we are glad to be here. Man hitching with his dog. Not David. A lot of broken down cars, but all drivers seemed to have mobiles to summon help. Wind screen strip on lorry declares the driver to be “King of Road”.

Talking to Hilde earlier, we were saying how well we were all getting on. It is important too, that each couple is getting along with their partner. She said it was good that nobody had strong opinions. WHAT. We all have very strong opinions, but listen to each other and will change ideas and plans to suit the group. Hilde said that was what she meant. When one of us is having a wobble, someone else will sense it and make decisions, take control or just say everything is fine. We both admitted to feeling sick to the bottom of our stomachs about certain situations or the thought of what was to come. That goes for the men too. We didn’t head off all gung-ho, we were quite innocent. But we have learnt a lot, and won’t make certain mistakes again. Next trip that is.

Infrastructure improvements = road works. Loads of stretches of dusty, bumpy surfaces. Bet clean clothes drying in the back are coated. Will feel like emery boards when we put them on. Lovely.

Tim downloaded KZ last night, and I can see three borders on map – to our East is China, North is Russia and sandwiched in between is MONGOLIA. Can’t really get the sense of scale. I know it will probably take us a week to cross into Mongolia.

Tim says his new sandals make his feet sweat more. The car already smells like a monkey house. Atle admitted theirs smelt like a camel, and they have air con. Sorry if I offended the aforementioned animals. Stop for fuel. Have to go inside whilst pump attendant fills four cars at once. Man with semi-automatic slung over shoulder watches everybody. Toilets? Cashier points outside. Independently Hilde and I walk all round the building. Nothing. Atle asks. Apparently, there is no water to the toilet inside, so we literally have to go outside. We do, away from gaze of armed man. Two German vans with trailers turn up. Open back door and dozens of plastic bags escape. They are all re captured. PUT OUR LIGHTS ON. Granola bar and Coke Zero for late lunch. 5pm.

Not made much progress, very windy and bad roads. Would like to wild camp tonight, but no where to hide. Contact in Mongolia emailed Atle. Seen on out blogs that we will be sleeping in roof tents. That is good, as several people have been run over in their tents by drunk drivers. We may also stay with them in their rental yurts. Hilde has heard from someone who has interviews set up. Hilde is thrilled. Bit of Madge to keep us awake.

Not many photos taken today. Bit overcast and same old same old. How did that woman get into that Lada with that enormous hat on, bit like getting a ship into a bottle. Paul from France had been watching Glastonbury. The Stones in particular. Said at least they didn’t fall asleep on stage. Need to send him details of the blogs. Tim notices we are seeing coaches again. Haven’t seen any in the last few countries. Must be evening, it’s raining with the obligatory rainbow.

Holes in road mean we have to drive through petrol station fore courts. Traffic lights tell you exactly how many seconds there are left until they change. Useful. Someone beeps, thumbs up. Someone’s flashing. Police round every corner and down every incline. Several times get caught at lights, Atle waits for us ahead. Some planes at the airport, must be why the road is smooth for 100m. Bunkers to hide rockets in? Where we cross into Russia, nuclear waste was dumped.

Rachel and Matt, be ready for days of endless flat plains on your journey. Have some good music or audio books at hand. Also, make sure you don’t go over the speed limit!!!!

How will we settle into our old life back home? Will we be the same people? Will we get itchy feet again?

Only one bum hug left. Will save it. People don’t seem to wear crash helmets here. Hills on one side, endless flatness on the other. Bit of variety then. Hear a loud bang as a car drives past us. Stop to investigate, but can see no damage on the outside of the car. Hope it wasn’t the water melon exploding on the inside, all over my washing!!!!

Arrive at small town, looking for campsite, or hotel. Atle spots a Police car patrolling without lights. Drive around, doesn’t look hopeful. Find the Kazahk word for hotel – meymankhana. Will ask the next local. Would you believe it, the policeman driving the car with no lights stops to help. No hotel here, but he draws a map with directions to the next town, 30km away. On the way out the roundabout is bigger than the town. Delusions of grandeur.

Plod on. We will take Central Asian phrase book in with us, and my glasses to read it with. Must have fallen off my lap when I got out of the car last night. Hilde needs a stop. Pull up at the already mentioned defunct bus stop. Just as she finishes, two people are dropped off to wait for a bus. This next town has a bus station. I ask a local, round the corner and straight on, she signals a big sign. Thank you. Nothing, and no idea how far she meant. See a group of people waiting outside a hall. Atle asks. Someone writes 150 in the dust of the car. Kms or ms. We drive on. Maybe should have planned a bit better, or left a bit earlier. Munch on peanuts from health food shop. After a while we pull off the road and drive into a beautiful wheat field. We will stay here.

Rain starts as we set up, not too heavy. Atle puts out his awning. No cooking. Cheese and biscuits, peanuts and beer. Our chairs are difficult to get to without putting a load of stuff on the wet grass. They lend us little three legged stools, never used. “I used to have one of these. What happened to it?” enquired Tim. “You broke it” Ha, ha! We discuss the issues of travelling in Russia, may be a bit like this. Supper is delicious. Crash. Tim falls through his borrowed chair, ripped from side to side. We cannot breathe for laughing, tears blind us and nobody can speak. When we regain our equilibrium, we set ourselves off again by recounting incidents of aged grandparents and parents falling through beach chairs, and getting stuck. Didn’t mention Dad bouncing on the bed, sides ached too much. Best bit of the day.

Thursday 4th July 2013

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Wake early, gentle rain. Views of hills and meadows. Everything smells fresh. Decamp quickly, no breakfast yet, and hit the road. TURN ON LIGHTS. Don’t think anyone spotted us last night. We have a better plan today. We head north to Oskemen, which means it will be a short drive to the Russian border in the morning.

Ben, from Tim’s previous life, has left a comment on the blog. Maybe we should have asked to have map embedded into BGfL, so schools who were interested could follow us. See children, if you study very hard and work for 35 years, you too can be shaken, stirred, smell and live in the same clothes for days on end.

400 miles, 640 kms to do today. We have learnt from yesterday, buy bread when you see it. But we didn’t see it. Will stop after an hour, or in a town, see if they sell tea as well. If not, will make our own. Sky ahead clearing. Haven’t travelled in fleeces for weeks. I am sure it will warm up.

The cheese, biscuits and granola bars we ate yesterday where for Mongolia. We will starve there! Oh, I forgot the 80 organic, pre cooked meals we have, and the 10 organic, pre cooked portions of rice pudding. Yum.

Red kite swoops down, and snatches something from the road just ahead of us. Will we ever pass the hotel we were looking for last night? Sunglasses go on. Discovery 3 and Volvo, first of the holiday, apparently. A fence! Dead dog.

9.30 100miles down. Stop for breakfast. Fleeces come off. I hang wet washing around the car, and most of it dries by the time we leave. Hilde uses eggs and makes omelette. One of our is broken. We have muesli, and yoghurt. Use all the pot today. I grind beans and we have fresh black coffee. Luxury. Had to boil water in pan, due to spectacularly poor shopping trip yesterday. Hilde asks Atle if he needs more omelette. He retorts, “i am not fat, just too short for my body” Bit like Mum saying she wasn’t fat, she just had a wide girth. I thought she was fine for a hippo.

Find water coming from underground. Maybe this is a shrine, Buddhist? There is a bright blue handrail along the steps. At the bottom is a large tree with hundreds of scraps of brightly coloured cloth strips tied on. This is fascinating. We will see much more of this in Mongolia. Another wonderful insight into a culture and religion we have only previously read about. We are so privileged. Tim takes off remaining mud flap. Hilde says in Norway we would be fined for having only one. Either two or none. We don’t want to give the police here any more excuses to part us from my hard earned inheritance. Tim cuts finger, not badly enough for contents of grab bag, but I do make sure the lotions and potions I administer sting.

Drive off into another load of nothingness. Large six wheeled drive troop carrier. Stop sign at road check. We stop. Policeman is talking to local, his light sabre dangling limply in his hand. He does not even glance our way. We creep forward. No whistle. We move off. Did I tell you I am getting very adept at spitting, no more toothpaste covered tee shirts.

Fight between kestrel and red kite. David and Goliath. David wins. We have a change of plan, which will cut off over 100 miles. Slightly overheard Hilde talking to Tim, but no idea where we are heading now. You may need to ignore the title of today’s missive. Tim tied his new pendant and key ring to mirror. The white felt hat is already dirty where it is dusting the dashboard.

Map shows a lake. We see no lake. Global warming or global warning? Getting better at this co-pilot job. Can’t really call me a back seat driver, as we have no back seats. Clear to overtake, slow down for speed trap, pull over for a pit stop. Children fishing with rods. Oh, we can see a little bit of water, but a lot of sand with salt crystals.

Before we use the roof ladder again, a rivet needs replacing in one of the rungs. RUS registered car. Going home? Large harriers flap over fields. Tim has spent several sessions crawling all over the Landy with a screw driver. Tightening up stuff in an effort to eliminate squeaks. He did so again this morning at the breakfast stop. When we set off – silence. Now he says, “Can you tell where that new squeak is coming from?” Absolutely not. Even if I did know, I would not tell him. Going round in his gloves, poking into crevices, twirling this and that keeps him happy. All he is missing are a deer stalker, pipe and magnifying glass. Elementary. My dear Watson. Atle says he can never solve the squeaking. If it isn’t the car, then it’s Hilde.

When we do a trip like this, everything has its allotted place. We are fastidious at replacing it, so when its dark, late or we are tired we both know instinctively where to find it. “Where’s the hand wash?” In the front tray. Wrong. In the footwell where it has bounced out. Great system this.

Along this stretch we pass people at motorcycle and sidecars, selling large fish. Can’t tell whether salted, dried or smoked. Notice we have been running parallel to a railway track for many kms now. Tim singing like a chicken. Sorry girls. How far is the horizon? No reply from either embassy in Mongolia. But heard from Olav and Astrid. They bribed the truculent guard in Uzbek, not with dollars, but two cigarettes. They are now in TJ, ready to tackle the Pamir Highway. If we wait at the border in Mongolia, or go north for a few days so that Atle can see his reindeer, then that would be a good place to meet them.

Tim and I will have to go to Ulan Baataarar, apply for our visas. go sight seeing, horse riding or trekking for a few days, then back to collect them.

We have done nearly 12,000 kms. Tim says, the big truck we saw earlier is often bought and converted for over landing. Bit cumbersome. At the last crossing, Atle wanted to borrow the Custom Officer’s mirror on a stick, to check his under carriage. Should have mentioned the wonderful variety of butterflies we have seen. Don’t know the name of any of them I am ashamed to say. Boris?

Were these roads so poorly constructed as a deliberate plan to keep people in their allotted place? Plan works then. Close my window, respite from being buffeted by the wind. Look what its done to my immaculately coiffured hair. Consider bringing out head scarf. One RUS car had KGB in registration. One border guard wore a cap with FBI on. Me thinks they were both imposters. Or very poor spies. Happy Independence Day America, when you wake up.

Biggest country, fewest pictures. Largely due to blurring whilst on the move, and bodily tremors once we have stopped. You lie down to sleep and think you are still travelling. 12,000 kms down. Nice new chewing gum. How near to your home do you have to be, to be considered local? In Kings Thorn it would be 1k, then you would be in the next parish of Little Birch. Here, it must be more like 200+ kms before you are in the next province.

Tim does that furtling up his short leg again. Hope he is just scratching a bite. Slow down for settlement. Coach from KYR. No bread or kettle. Rather disappointingly. we have to speed up again, meaning teeth masticate of their own accord. We discuss the fact that we won’t mind the unpaved surfaces in Mongolia. But if you put a chuffing road down, you don’t expect to bite the inside of your cheek quite so often. Just thought of a great project to get funding from the Lion’s Den team. Import solar powered hovercrafts to KZ. Make a fortune and save a mint on dental bills. May mention it to Jeremy Clarkson, see if he can be the brains behind the design. Would split the profits 50/50 with him, of course.

Pass a prison at visiting time. Were most of the inmates locked up for traffic related offences? Or couldn’t they afford the fine? Several large tanks on display nearby. Hilde says we have just passed a couple of little shops, do we want to go back. We say no, as we don’t want to go down that axel snapping pot hole again. We can eat into our Mongolia stash if we need to at lunchtime. Have been running parallel to railway tracks for many more kms now. No sign of a train.

Whist I prepare lunch, same menu as last night’s dinner minus the beer, Tim screws the roof back on. Comforting to know my bedroom won’t bounce off unnoticed down the road behind us. Hilde has booked us into a hotel tonight, and we should be there about 6pm. The luxury of a shower and change of clothes before dinner spurs us on. The wind nearly rips the door off it’s hinges, blows all the crumbs back into the car and Tim’s clean undercrackers go cartwheeling down the road.

Still no train. There is a public safety advert at home, usually played before school holidays. A white middle class family, Mum, Dad, girl and boy, are cycling in the countryside. They play I -Spy, something beginning with T. The first time I saw it I knew what the outcome was going to be. But you have to keep watching. Train? No. Track? No. Tree? No. Something else inane beginning with T. No. Get on with it. The girl stops cycling, feet either side of cycle frame. Tracks? She asks again. Smiling, sunny, full of promise. No. TRAIN. It chills me even to think of it. You see nothing, but your imagination takes you to places you don’t want to go.

Still no train. I dislike Coke. I dislike Coke Zero even more. How did you get on at school yesterday, Esme? Tell us all about it next time we phone, if you want to. Wet, squidgy tarmac newly laid, complete with designer pot holes.

Suddenly, T for train. Not high speed passenger, but lumbering goods train. A friend who’s Dad was a train driver once told me, if you get hit by a speeding train, your shoes come off. Also, my brother told me that the reason you have to bend double in a plane crash is so that your teeth don’t get smashed, and you will be easily identified. Well, when I fly back from Hong Kong, I’m going to sit bolt upright all the way, even if we hit turbulence or go into free fall. Make those pathologists earn their money. How do they identify people with dentures?

Two Black Cranes. White Winged Black Terns. Pallid Harrier. More first sightings. Exciting for us but not Hilde. She is only interested at looking at birds down the barrel of a gun. But she will always eat what she shoots.

Imagination all over the place today, brain being shaken to mush, and not many distractions. Sorry.

What do people do with all these beautiful horses? You can only ride one at a time. I suppose a few are bought or traded to make a comfortable perch for a bird. I understand you can trade for money, or swop for goods. But then what? Is there an endless circle of national stock horses going round and round, being added to all the time? I haven’t seen horse meat on any menu here. Oh, wait a minute.

Just a little aside here folks. Throughout our blog we have tried to be positive. We have tried to log what we have seen without putting our interpretation on it. We have tried not to be judgmental. BUT THIS ROAD!!!!!!!! They should pay us insurance, against bodily damage to both us and the vehicle. Not to mention long term psychological and emotional scarring. Pass a lone cyclist, who is trying to savage his manhood by standing on his pedals. Good luck. To top it all, wind nearly blows us into path of oncoming lorry. Had no time to salvage teeth and I already have my shoes off.

Rant over. Lumbering passenger trains with well over a dozen carriages. Notice all trains going in same direction. Single track, so there must be sidings somewhere. Ex – industrial town. Skirt around it. When I write kms I put an “s” on. Here the road signs say km. What do they do with all the spare S’s?

Yesterday Hilde was talking about voice recognition soft ware. If I were to type up all my original notes from the early days of expedition, that might be useful. She said it helps to know exactly what you are saying, and if I were reading out what I had already written, I would be able to edit before I spoke. How much does it cost? Would I have to train it to recognise my Northern accent and colloquialisms? Geek offers to look into it for me.

Trio of tractors racing across field. They have flat hedgehogs in KZ as well. Fancy. Pointy, jagged mountains appear. Bit of a distraction. Disconcerting when vehicles come at us on our side of the road, to avoid the potholes on theirs. Clear off my carriageway. Don’t make more holes over here, we have enough of our own. I seem to have a split keyboard. How did that happen, me or the vibrations?. Don’t like, don’t know how to change it back and geek is busy driving.

Mountain range in the far distance could be RUSSIA. Notice some picnic area signs, all with a leaning pine tree on, show a dripping tap. Does that mean the water is safe to drink? Even if it comes from a spring like this morning? Now we are driving on the wrong side of the road. Sorry.

Will take big bags into hotel, as well as day bags. Need to be reminded about some of the decent clothes we possess, as well as our scuzzy travelling attire. Approach outskirts of Oskermen. Automated road check. No policeman with swinging light sabre. Instead, signs telling you to travel at 30 kph. 20m away from the car in front. Cameras are mounted overhead. Traffic signals indicate whether or not you are free to proceed. The light goes green.

Like all big cities it is designed on a grid system. Hilde is in front, trying out her new sat nav now it has streets on it. We collect the last fuel in the Stans. Different system. Have to pay before delivery, a local driver tells us. I count out all our remaining tenge. 8,800. About £40. Think diesel is 50p per litre. What will it cost in Russia? 8,895 tenge. Will have to sub 95 tenge from Atle. Pump attendant spills fuel under driver’s seat. We are given a lovely cloth to mop it up.

Big mosque. Even bigger supermarket. May get fresh produce there in morning. Overtaken by a Bentley. Artificial camels on roundabout. Bus sign says Glo Bol View. Get lost on housing estate, much to the amusement of the residents. But not the van driver who has to back up.

What is the ultimate excuse of the incompetent? We didn’t get the email. Even when Atle showed the trail, the receptionist said it wasn’t her fault, and they were fully booked. That was bad enough, but she showed no concern and was reluctant to help us find somewhere else.

Friday 5th July 2013

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Oskermen

We stayed at the De Luxe Hotel, a couple of kms away, over the river. As different as could possibly be. Smaller, and very welcoming. We were helped by the sweetest young man. He had a little English, and worked extremely hard at dredging it up from his memory. He ran about, scuttled, waving his arms frantically to get the automatic doors to open before he crashed straight through. He worked with a colleague to try and sort out the stamp on our entry/exit card, now we think we will indeed be staying in KZ for 5 days. He took all our passports, brought them back, collected them again ….. Hilde said he was a combination of John Cleese (Basil) and Manuel from Fawlty Towers.

Over dinner, we discussed what we could do to help people we had met. Atle and Hilde originally invited us to Mongolia. That is where her research is. Those who are working can send money to support a particular region or project. Those of us retired could bring expertise and knowledge, maybe volunteer for a time. I will see what it is like when we get there. But at the moment, the area that puts fire in my belly is Pamir, in TJ.

A very privileged young local Kazak starts talking to us. He is awaiting his A Level results from a private school in England. He then expects to go to Switzerland for private higher education. Two of his non English speaking friends join him, and we discuss their country and its possible future. He offers to take us sight seeing tomorrow.

I had a bit of a meltdown back in our room. Poor Tim. Tired and emotional I suppose.

Morning time now. All glad of a lie in, shower and clean clothes. I feel a lot better. We broke a golden rule though – didn’t bring a bottle of water in from the car. None in fridge. How will we take our tablets, or clean our teeth?

Tim has sorted out the keyboard issue, and also he can now upload photos to the blog. We will work on it as fast as the internet here allows (we won’t ever moan about the speed back home again). If you go back to the beginning and look at the photos, we promise not to show you the thousands of others we took when we see you next.

The local Kazak, is changing hotel. Maybe the Shining River was full yesterday. We ask him to help out with a couple of things. The Immigration form, which the receptionist thinks does not need a stamp because our visa is for 30 days. She will make a phone all on our behalf, after lunch. Also, Tim and Atle jump into a taxi with him, on an ariel search. Hilde and I sit in reception and natter over a cup of chai.

Plan so far is to have a mooch, although it is raining, use the hotel spa and swimming pool, then meet the local Kazak for dinner. Our sweet receptionist is not on duty. Shame.

Clothes, and sandals, still dripping wet in shower. Somebody’s cigarette smoke is getting into our room. Oh, wrong Ben yesterday. This Ben is traveling the silk route the opposite direction, and wanted some advice. Tim just text. He tried to get currency at bank, tried the cards he thought were his, three times mind you, then realised he had picked up my bum bag. He will now have to sort out getting me new cards. (Later turns out not true. Only tried twice, so should be ok). He did manage to buy new ariel.

Hair looks a mess. Dryer in room did not work. Totally forgot I had travel one in my bag, as I haven’t used it once on trip. Still, hair clean.

Hilde and I go for a wander. Weather a bit cool, and it had rained earlier. Find BarBQ where we may eat later. Hilde needs some tops with long sleeves, for Mongolia where it is considered disrespectful to show your wrists. She buys a couple and a pair of running leggings. Shopping mall very sad. Not many people. Assistants looking bored, some with large cross word puzzles on the counter to while away the dull hours. Many items not cheap, even in the sales.

Head back. Walk through park. Beautiful plants and many highly scented flowers. Saw some black bear cubs – statues. Wedding parties had stopped to have photos taken by professional photographer.

Tim and Atle already back, working on cars. Hilde and I have beer, the men join us. Two NZ women come in. One had met Tim and Atle earlier, and they were interested in talking to some other foreigners. They both worked at a school, one was the Principal. They were amazed we had managed to get as far as we had. We all shared stories of work and families. The Principal even offered to take our washing home. We do indeed need our immigration form stamped after 5 days. Tomorrow is National Astana Day, so three days holiday. We need to get to Russia tomorrow, as that is day five.

Dinner is at the BarBQ, the best restaurant in town. Local Kazak does not turn up to join us. We have steak and sausages. The most palatable red wine yet. All shattered. Early night ready for early start tomorrow.

Saturday 6th July 2013

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Happy National Astana Day Kazakhstan.

Had two great emails, one from Collette and one from Vince and Moira. Great to hear from you guys. Glad house and chickens ok. Good luck with OFSTED Moira. Weather at home is better than here, mid 20s and sunny. Is it the Beer on the Wye festival this weekend? At least you can walk there and stagger back Will. Enjoy.

Downloaded paper. Murray in the Wimbledon finals tomorrow. The army in Egypt has ousted democratically elected president, as they feel he is trying to turn the country into an Islamic state. An Iranian swimmer will not be awarded a title for swimming the Caspian Sea, as her fully Muslim swim wear, which added kilos to her weight in the water, showed the outline of her body as she climbed out. The authorities felt by recognising her achievement, it would be given permission to other women to go wild swimming. She has already had tens of thousands of hits on You Tube, and this may prompt the incoming President to think about changes.

We read about the real reason why we were not allowed to stay in the Shiny River Hotel. We were supposed to give a bung of 10%. Well we didn’t. Kazakhstan is the wealthiest of the Stans, but the most corrupt and most polluted. Local people who were here before the early 90’s were made to go out of the region, further East, for 10 weeks every year, in order to recuperate and get stronger. A lot of nuclear testing went on at Semey, close by, and waste is dumped still. We have seen an alarming amount of people with disabilities.

At breakfast, Atle said he had a nightmare about driving along a bumpy road. Fancy. We decide not to go shopping here, as we would need to get more local currency out. So, next stop RUSSIA. Head towards Shamanaikha, supposed to be less lorries using this route. They travel to Semey then onto Rubtsovsk, so maybe this road will be less bumpy. Bit overcast, but not raining.

Soon cross Ulba River, another abandoned factory, out of city and into countryside. Green and grassy. Cyclist in full racing gear. All a bit quiet this morning, not knowing what the crossing will be like. When we get there we turn right, and hope to cross into Mongolia early Monday morning. Eeeeekkkkkk!!!! Last night Hilde sent me a VSO link to an organisation which is supporting Eco- tourism in the Pamir. Apparently, locals are increasing their poverty, as they do not charge enough for tourists at their Home Stay to cover costs. Also, on the link was a study about education in Mongolia. The principal from yesterday said if Tim and I were going to offer our services, it would not be as teachers. We have other, managerial skills, with an overview of financial management, leading of personnel, curriculum, and H&S issues which are non existent now. Tim also would bring skills in IT infrastructure, training and maintenance. Sounds worth looking into.

We bimble on. Road surface not too bad, yet. Ominous grey sky ahead. Wonder how Astrid and Olav are doing on the Highway? By spending two days in both Osh and Ostermen, and having a detour to the north in Mongolia, we are giving them chance to catch us up soon after the border. Rain. Slow to 70 kph, probably a lot of road checks before the crossing. Parked motorbike covered in decorative rug. Tim emailed British Embassy, asking for advice. We need a new indicator stalk sending out by Sally, and need an address for them to be posted to. How quickly can we get to our waterproof clothing? Soon be coming in the footwells. Skittish foal dashes across road, Tim already slowing down.

First red kite of the day, closely followed by second. Lifts spirits a little. Rain a abates, no wet feet. Scenery opening out a bit. Rolling, grassy plains. Stop for bush toilet. Everything smells fresh and rain soaked. We creep on. People scavenging on rubbish tip. Crops being cultivated on either side of road. Large yellow lorry dumping asphalt in lay by.

70kms to border. No RUS cars coming towards us. Those hills in the distance most definitely are in Russia. Forlorn calf straining neck to reach over fence. Can’t quite reach hay stack. We are following two RUS cars now, so on the right track. Wedding procession. Roads deteriorate 6kms before Shamanaikha. Potholes full of rain. Police stop Russians and us. Russians go after couple of minutes. We take a few minutes longer. Young officer startled when Tim holds out his hand to shake. Officer salutes first, then shakes. Has to take foreigners inside, to see man with more stripes. All ok. Large troop carrier.

Bigger wedding parade. We follow behind. Cross swollen river. Lights on red for us. We stop. Seconds later a KZ car screeches past and races across, startling on coming drivers. Two young women wave and smile. Fun fair. Gardens with fruit and veg growing. Woman walking along road in dressing gown and slippers. Coming back from shower somewhere?

17kms to next turn, then less than 5kms to border. Two RUS cars race ahead. Going home. Arrive at border post 11.39am. Another use for a container, an immigration office. Several cars ahead of us, passengers form a coach get out and are being processed first. We wait. Russians from two cars get out. Little girl in pink raincoat. Child seat swops car. They all eat strawberries from a bag. Some are discarded, bruised. Younger woman wears a leopard print fleecy, complete with ears. A lot of men in track suits. And flip flops.

Out of Kazakhstan by 12.41. No problems. On to Russia. Arrive at crossing 13.44, just lost another hour. Now six hours ahead of home. Same queue of cars. We wait. Light turns green, we all drive in. Given a ticket, denoting how many people in car. Guard says “Welcome to Russia”. Drivers and passengers split up, usual procedure. Everyone courteous, everything organised. Two men ask if they can jump the queue. Of course, we will take longer. Small hut. Toxic alcoholic fumes. Gets quite full. Immigration cards have English sub titles, so complete them quickly. Female officer is slick, has a computer to use, and proper pips on her epaulettes. The Kazak one had yellow sticky stars on cardboard, coloured in with pencil crayon and edged with felt tip. We are through. Into the Russian Federation, Republic of Belarus, at 14.28. Less than two hours.

Now for insurance, NOR have theirs. Russians queuing to enter KZ. They must be off to some sporting event, everybody in tracksuits, tee shirts, flip flops, tiny little shorts. Or maybe I missed the beach. A lot of right hand drive cars. But I thought we drove on the right here. Local Kazak said they were imported from Japan.

Weather clearing. Atle and Hilde drive on to petrol station, non existent. Atle tests out new antennae. Hear you loud and clear. Munch peanuts for lunch. No insurance. The woman in the little hut was only doing it for KZ. Have to go to next place. Tim not happy, queued for ages, she wasn’t very helpful and he doesn’t like driving without insurance.

370 kms to Barnaul. Lorry driver beeps at us and waves. My window rattling, not shut properly. Landscape different again. Grassy, little hillocks, grey sky and white clouds. Russian red kite. Russian wedding. Russian dead cat.

Although petrol station had sign for Nomad, no insurance. Drive on. Pass Beer House. Garden produce. Hundreds of crows, the Hooded ones look as if they are in academic garb with mortar board and gown. No insurance.

Scrap yards. Wood piles. Large lady on four wheeled buggy. Last bumhug, too sad. Gangly youth chopping wood. Sun breaks through. Huge fields of crops, potatoes?

Turn onto brilliant road surface, the best for weeks. Obligatory evening rainbow. Fields of rape in the distance. Heron. Following a lorry load of manure. Lightning off to the right. Cloudburst. Very poor visibility. Not been all dusty today – strange. Ate some Kazak chocolate from hotel room.

Being born in the 50’s and growing up in the 60’s, Russia has always seemed a threat. The Cold War, spies, the old USSR. Visiting for the first time today is quite shocking. The scenery looks familiar, the crops look the same. The driving has been safe and sensible. It feels far lass repressive than Kazakhstan, and certainly Turkmenistan. I know this is only a tiny corner of the Federation, but it is not what I expected. Belarus.

Hilde has found a hotel, Lonely Planet. How far to go now? We need to get our Russian map out of the storage box. Hope we need it again at a later date, as we plan to leave the day after tomorrow. Do you know, it’s almost dull driving on perfect smooth roads in a Landy all day? No potholes to shake you awake, no animals running out in front of you. Better be careful what I wish for.

Atle asks if we can speed up to 90 kph, as he has a vibration at this constant lower speed. Good. We should get there quicker. 56 kms to go. Just realised, we have been on the road for over a month now. Saturday night, girls in long floral dresses waiting for a bus. Large city ahead, Barnauld. All smokey from wood fires on outskirts. Families at a diner. Young men all scrubbed up and on the prowl, plastic bags full of cans. Somebody paragliding. German over lander.

Citroen and Lada garages. Juddering old coach. The first bit of risky driving all day. 20.30 and 18 degrees. Trolley buses. Large cinema.