Of Bus Stops, New Dresses and Bedbugs

Now we have done 4429km of the Silk Route and are in the 4th country. Kazakstan. The border crossing was seamless but the atmosphere was that of the ante chamber of a funeral home. There were border guards with guns and viscous looking dogs patrolling the area. I couldn't work out who would want to get in and who would want to get out. We still had 118km to cover to Semey where we would spend the next rest day. 

The transition from Siberia to Kazakstan was noticeable. The quality of the road went from three star Michelin to McDonalds. The scenery went from nothing to more nothing. The only interesting thing I could find to photograph was a bus stop made to look like a church. I don't know the philosophical significance of this.

The flatlands of Siberia was gone and changed to the steppes not unlike Mongolia and if possible more remote. 

We are gradually moving south so the temperatures are soaring to 30 plus C whilst on the road and also to warmer mornings. Nicer to crawl out of your tent without Arctic clothes and getting frostbite from folding your tent poles. 

The mosquitoes somehow diminished from man eating swarms to just the odd one to swat away from your thigh.

The city of Semey was the big surprise. Probably the most westernized city we have seen since leaving home. Lovely hotel and many restaurants, shopping malls and even an amusement park. I was so awed that I couldn't even write my blog. Therefor two blogs today. I bought a nice new blue dress with spring flowers (Edelweiss?) to wear in camp. 

Unfortunately swift fly the times on rest days and we were centrifuged into the Kazakstan boondocks again. Three difficult days on very rough tarmac including a ball busting 188km with headwinds. It was said to be the worst day of the trip and I certainly hope not to experience it again. Maybe in my next life when I get back as a migrating bird. Luckily one easy day of 98km which felt like a Sunday morning ride to a champagne breakfast. Tailwinds to blow you fast over all the potholes.

The next rest day in Usharal is where we are now in a flea ridden hotel about to fall apart. Probably no maintenance being done since the fall of the Soviet Union. If one looks very carefully there are signs of a former glory. Wallpaper, grandiose balconies and heavy wooden furniture. But one has not have to look very carefully to find bedbugs and worms on the stained mattresses.

Trip advisor counted the restaurants in the town and came to the total of zero. Do not come here for your honeymoon.

Of Female Mosquitoes, Kalashnikov and Elephant Whisperers

After Gorno Artaysk the Siberian honeymoon was over and  the real Siberia which we all know about showed it's not so charming face.No more Austrian valleys and no more Edelweiss. The most predominant feature of this section was the blood thirsty Siberian mosquito. There was flatlands, low lands, pine-trees, a few tufts of grass and a few cheeky hills. Lots of still standing water which is a personal favorite of the mosquito. 

Our first camp after the rest day was next to these mosquito paradises in a pine forest just next to a highway. No view, wet gras and mud and hardly a place to set a tent up.

Nothing worked to deter the mosquitos. They were feeding off us and thrived on their cocktails of blood and citronella. I had to look up on Wikipedia about mosquitos because I couldn't understand what they possibly could feed on in the middle of nowhere when there are no people on bicycles passing through on their way to Istanbul, it is still a mystery to me but I found out that a female lay 100 eggs at a time and they have four life circles. An interesting fact is that male mosquitos are vegetarians.

The next camps were not much better so the only thing to do was to sulk in you tent while watching the female mosquitoes staring at you through the mesh. If you opened the zipper a centimeter about 40 unwanted guests would  enter. The only thing to do was to sweat in your rain clothes and wait to get on your bike again. Luckily I cycle faster than the average flying speed of a female Siberian mosquito.

Early one morning we passed the birth town of Lieutenant General Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov who designed the AK-47 assault rifle. He died a few years ago of a gastric heamorrhage at the age of 94. Just before he died he wrote a letter to the Russian Orthodox Church and said he was sorry that he designed a weapon that caused so manny deaths.

In the border town there was also a Russian Orthodox Church and I sent Erwin there to say that I am sorry that I swore so much in Mongolia. 

I will have to go to a much bigger church to pray for all the swearing I did in Siberia. Especially calling the mosquitos names. Luckily they don't understand Afrikaans and don't know who their mothers are.

A photo of the church that I stole from Erwin's blog.

The last of the section we camped underneath a bridge next to a most uncharmimg  border town. It was next to a dirty river carrying all the sewerage and waste from the town.I went in to bathe and wash my hair anyway. It was a desperate measure to get rid of 5 days of sweat and many layers of industrial strength mosquito detergent. Baby wipes didn't console me anymore.

Reading "The elephant whisperer" and drinking vodka in my silk pajamas did console me though.

It was high time to leave Siberia and cross into Kazakstan involving a 158km ride to Semey where we would rest for a day.

Of Lawrence of Arabia, Snow and Edelweiss

Since the last rest day we have cycled two last days through Mongolia, crossed the border into Russia and cycled four days through South Western Siberia.

The last days in Mongolia was as tough as ever on existing and non existing dirt roads. One river crossing became impossible because of flooding so we had to cross a 2500m mountain instead. This become a walk rather than a ride with a gradient of 20% on loose gravel. Next time I go hiking I will leave my bicycle at home.

Still smiling but only just.

Erwin and I at 2500m playing in the snow.

All of the tough things that happened in Mongolia happened once more in the last two days. Bad roads, rain, cold, winds and steep mountains. One time I had to pull a survival skill out of my sleeve. It was bitterly cold and I was losing the feeling in my hands again. The only thing I could do was to wee on my hands to get a bit of warmth. It worked very well and I could change gears and brake again. Luckily I was on my own so no one would ever know.

At the end of the day a big surprise came. Instead of a bush camp we could stay in a ger. No electricity  or toilets though. Only a long drop where one could squat on wooden planks. I didn't use it because I could vision my iPhone ending up at the bottom of the pit and me following straight after.

Traditional ger on the left and modern version on the right.

The Mongolian support team cooked us a farewell dinner consisting of huge chunks of lamb meat barbecued on hot stones. No flavour added. Only airag which is the fermented milk of female horses. This was washed down with a latte made of instant coffee and a choice of the milk of either five of the domestic animals in the country: sheep, cattle, goats, camels and horses. 

More camels than in Lawrence of Arabia

A typical view from my tent.

Another typical view from my tent

Another camel

More sand

Even more sand

Then it was time for border crossing number two of the trip. One would predict a quick stamp in the passport and then goodbye Mongolia. But time showed that it would probably be easier to check out of the Hotel California.

We arrived at the border at opening time, 10 am to find a long queue of trucks waiting to exodus the promised land. This happened at the flow rate of about 3 trucks per hour. When we got to the gate it was of course time to close for lunch. This probably included a siesta and the weekly poetry reading session. All we could do was sit in the truck on the non reclining chairs and watch the flies buzzing on the ceiling.

Nine hours later we finally stood on the Russian side where things moved considerably faster. This time the quick stamp materialized followed by an inventory of my bag. The narcotics dog was not interested in my dirty laundry and seven pairs of shoes so I entered Russia seamlessly and stood with both feet in Siberia.

After 30km of no mans land on smooth asphalt we found ourself in the border town. We also found that we crossed from the 17th century to the 19th century. Not quite the 20th yet. This  I could clearly see in the border town where I bought some emergency snacks and other survival stuff like nail varnish.

Our first camp was in a sage meadow next to a fast flowing river. It was full moon. One could not get too comfortable though on account of the man eating mosquitos which left us all looking like Dalmatians the next day. The morning dawned on us with strong winds which almost blew my tent into the river. I managed to save it in the last second but my helmet which was in the vestibule flew into the river never to be seen again.

The four day journey to Gorno Altaysk, capital city of Southern Siberia began with heavy rains and a wind which was so strong it blew the river in the opposite direction. When the clouds and fog opened up a bit we could see that Siberia is nothing like one ever imagined it to be. None of the empty flats, salt mines and prisons. And no naked prisoners tied to trees waiting for death by mosquitos.

Instead we found valleys and mountains just like the Alps. It was like cycling through Austria in the summer. The slopes covered in Edelweiss. No yodeling though.

The cycling have been much easier although still a significant amount of climbing. Very strange to deal with traffic again. The camping has been wonderful with a sauna always round the corner and the possibility to rent a log cabin. 

Typical valley in Siberia

Just now it's wonderful to sit in a real bed with wifi that's almost functional and to pee in a real toilet instead of on my hands. And it's raining like hell outside. But who cares?

Of Gravel, Sandstorms and Camel Toes

Almost time to say goodbye to Mongolia. It was a interesting experience and a hard nut to crack. After 700km of dirt roads we are now relaxing iin Ulangoom a small town two days  of gravel and a few river crossings from the Russian border. 

Our abodel is creatively called the Chengis Hotel. 

We are following the northern route through Mongolia which is more scenic than the southern route. The latter goes through more of the Gobi desert and is paved. If you want to see this northern scenery don't try to do it from a bike. Maybe from a camel. Even better look at on Google earth in the luxury of your armchair at home.

Conditions varied from mud, hard packed sand, dirt, loose sand and corrugation. I have learnt many new Mongolian words to use on these roads. They all start with f...If the devil should ever decide to build a highway in hell. He could ask the Chinese to build it from the Norhern Mongolian model.

The motto of this week was: If you thought  things can't get worse they generally did.

In the bush camps we had sub zero morning temperatures and sveltering afternoons making for difficult sleeping conditions. One would go to bed at 30 deg C and wake up a few hours later at -3. 

On the road there was no entertainment so the only thing was to make your own.

One boner, but how many camel toes?

Some creative flagging. The orange tape is used to give us directions everyday. Although most days it would be enough to say turn right out of camp and ride until you see us again.

This is the fluffy animal that I thought was a cow. Turns out that it was a yak.

Cattle watching was getting more scarce but I realized again It's a cow eat cow world.

The Mingolian towns have corlourful roofs but no pink ones.

Barefoot and not pregnant in the kitchen of an unknown lady inviting me for coffee.

One night the mother of all sand storms broke lose. This was accompanied by hurricane winds, rain and lightning. Lots of tents were destroyed, possessions were blown away and people were trucked to a dorm in a small town close by.

This person doesn't have a Hilleberg so he had to stand outside and anchor it for dear life.

After six days of gravel we had paved road for 15km. I had to kiss it. Mecca is the other way.

Of Hitler, Golf and Wild Horses

Rest day in Mürün. A strange name for a Mongolian city with all the umlauts. Hitler must have been here and then decided to settle for Poland instead. I don't blame him. The town is in the middle of a vast and rugged northern Mongolia. Basically in the middle of nowhere. But it did earn itself four lines in Wikipedia.

The Gobi Desert is long forgotten and the country side looks like everything from South Africa to Ireland. The latter because of the greenness and all the sheep. I have recognized the Karoo, the rolling hills of Natal and the Garden Route of the Western Cape. That is minus the ocean and the wine.

Mongolia also looks like the world's biggest golf course. Apparently some dude took a sabbatical from his engineering job and hit his little white ball across the entire country. There is a book about it but don't read it unless you are interested in golf.

We have cycled about 700km since the last rest day and almost 2000km since Beijing. In this section we had two days on rough unpaved roads which rattled our bones and dislodged our fillings. One lady had to have dental care. Camping was in dry river beds, wet river beds and on nomad lands. Six days without shower. 

Roads less travelled

On the 5th out of sheer desperation day I climbed through the window of building where there was running water. It was owned by a rich Mongolian with a "works in progress" camping site where one could rent a ger or yurt which is a portable round tent covered with skin and felt. Almost like my Hilleberg. I settled for my own tent which was almost blown into the river during a violent storm in the evening.

Tent with a view

Villages are scarce and far apart. The only entertainment on the road is to watch the cattle. There are big wooly black cows with thin ankles looking like Russian ladies with fur coats. Also droves of wild horses and millions of goats and sheep. They seem to graze happily side by side. Just like the people from the Middle East.

Counting sheep

Wild horses

The rest day goes far to fast with bicycle cleaning, wiping sheep manure off ground sheets, six days of laundry, buying snacks and drinking. Alcohol not tea.