When the going gets tough

Earlier starts are now becoming the norm, and today, we we ride to the Uzbekistan border, and the rumoured strip searches.....

Beynau was our last opportunity to fill up before the wastes of Uzbekistan and we stopped at the last petrol station to fill every receptacle we could find. Basically I have now become a mobile bomb.

Pothole city

Telegraph Road ... were Dire Straits here once.

Heading out, the 50 miles to the border is horrendous, with the road deteriorating into a pothole riddled gravel strewn track.... despite the fact this is a “E-” road.  Cars and trucks weave about with careless abandon, and you overtake at your peril. Naturally size matters, and they don't give a shit when they pass you leaving clouds of dust. 

Talking of dust, poor old Jeremy eat some a few miles after leaving, when something passed him, and obscured the giant sand pit in the middle of the road. Ever caring me … well, I found a quicker pace suited the conditions, and was about 5 miles further up the road when the incident occurred. As I rode back to find him, the speed and stance indicated something was wrong !

The bike was fine, but he suspected a broken finger. My first aid skills are generally of a verbal nature … “I broke mine once, and it was fine the next morning,” I said.  I omitted the fact that later the next day, when it had been X-rayed, I was admitted into hospital for an operation and had to stay overnight! 

There wasn't much else we could do but carry on …. don't forget our visa's are all one entry, so we simply just can't turn around. The doors close behind you on an adventure like this.

The Uzbekistan border was crowded, and we pushed to the front and waited. A soldier motioned that we could follow the next lorry in, which we did … the car behind then followed us. The soldier went mental with him, and we learned … do exactly as you are told. If they say come forward 10 cms, that's all you move.

This was as far as we could push-in.

All told, is was about a 4 hour process, and they did ask us to unpack virtually everything in front of them, on a dusty concrete surface. You dare not argue, just smile, and do it, and worry about re-packing later. It was at this stage that I realised there are some benefits to the “scrunch it in” method of packing that I use, as opposed to Jeremy's meticulous well thought out system ! The drawback of course, is that I tend to look like a tramp in the evenings !

So all cleared, we motor on, to a Police check … get out, do the usual small talk, show the documents for the 50^th time that day, then ride on.

Water was getting an issue later in the day, but luckily we found a lady selling it by the roadside.... suppose child labour laws are just not here yet !

The roads improved slightly the further East we travelled, but as always, the tarmac melts and leaves massive ruts which can catch you out. With the shadows getting long in the day, and fuel short, we have to find somewhere to stop. I sway Jeremy into staying in Kungrad, rather than risk riding another 60 miles at dusk, to Nukas.

The problem in Uzbekistan is that there are no fuel stations that sell Petrol (Benzine). We don't really know why, but its something to do with there not being enough in the country, so its not distributed in the West, as long as they can sell all they have near the Capitol city in the East. However, there is the black market, and soon we found this cafe, that not only could get us benzene, but feed us and give us a room for the night.

It would do, we agreed, and lets just say it was basic... very basic. Got fed some soup and bread, and settled down on our really comfy mats for the night! At least they had beer … 11% abv, if the label is true, which helped in accepting our less than salubrious position.

Before bed we were shown the shower and toilet facilities … well, sometimes you just gotta stay dirty..... and the poo can wait ! Got some rest that night, but it wasn't a lot.