Kazakhstan for the 2nd time
12 AugWe leave at the break of dawn to try and make it to Almaty in Kazakhstan. This is doing 3 days travel on our schedule in 1, and would get us back almost on time.
The road is a great surface, and the further we drive the more our engine cleans itself out. The power gradually comes back. I get stopped for speeding by the Kyrgyz police - 69 in an apparent 60 zone. There are no speed signs for towns, you just have to see the town sign. The fine is 100 som, which equates to $3US. There will be no need to slow for towns from now on!
The road winds it’s way through mountains, up and down. There are beautiful lakes, which a really perculiar colour. The day is very hot however, and we start experiencing oil pressure fluctuations, and have to slow down. The knocking noise in the engine is back with a vengeance. I am once again frustrated. At the bottom of a hill we come across two Mongol teams stopped at a shop. These are the first team we have seen since Samarkland, Uzbekistan. They are having a good time, having taken an easy route, and not having any big car problems since Germany.
One of the lakes nestled between mountains:
We keep driving and I realize I’ve fallen a bit into the trap of becoming frustrated when things aren’t going to plan, rather than going with the flow and enjoying the experiences as they happen. Rather than push like crazy for Almaty, we stop by the side of a mountain stream with designs on having a swim. We quickly forget that – the water is freezing. We wash up a bit, and then notice there is a roadside restaurant next to the river. We sit at small outside tables with our legs crossed, on soft cushions. There is no English here, and we order what the table next door is eating. It turns out there is a man who can speak English at this table, and he sits with us and explains the menu. We make a better informed decision, and get a typical Kyrgyz lamb stew, with macaroni and another grain (which I can’t remember the name of), and some chai (tea). The food is beautiful. As we leave the restaurant a truck driver beckons us to his truck, and hands us each a fresh peach. We wash these in the river and then eat them. We continue on the journey, content.
Stephen gives a sly look while eating what was a fantastic meal:
The pass is massive (only 3300m or so, but we must have started from very low), and it takes us ages to climb in first gear. The altitude messes up our engine again, and soon it sounds off and we have no power. We continue down for a while, and then there is another pass. This one has insane switchbacks, and is cut short by a tunnel through the mountain. The tunnel is also insane. It is poorly lit, and narrow. They appear to only let one direction go at a time, and we drive into the darkness. To our surprise there are soon trucks coming from the other way. They belch so much diesel smoke, and in the brightness of their lights, we cannot see a thing. There are no reflectors marking the sides of the tunnel or anything. I was scared beyond belief. What if we broke down in the middle? We hear from other ralliers who went through a 6km tunnel in Tajikistan. It’s got no lights, and has a foot of water running through it. Apparently this is because it’s not finished yet, but that doesn’t stop them from opening it to traffic.
Yurts on the way up the pass:
View through the tunnel:
On the other side of the tunnel the road descends for a long long time. We must have driven down steeply for over half an hour. This time the brakes are fine, so at least I’ve succeeded in fixing that.
On the way up the pass I stopped and bought some local cuisine, and when we reach the bottom we decide to try it. It’s a white ball, about 2cm in diameter. We were told by the Italian at Sary-tash that these were the most disgusting foods ever produced. Now I know Italians are fussy about their food, but he was spot on with this one. We each take a bite of our ball at the bottom of the pass, it lasts about 0.5 seconds and then we both spit out the window. The balls are some sort of mixture of flour and milk gone sour. Basically the flavour is milk left in the sun for a couple of days.
We skirt the Kyrgyz capital of Bishkek on a ring road. We pass through towns that approach shanty status. There has been a plastic fire, and the whole place is filled with white smoke. This is what I will forever remember of Bishkek, even though it may be a lovely place in the centre. From there it’s only 15km to the Kazak border, and we arrive as night falls.
We have reservations about returning to Kazakhstan, due to memories of the road near the Aral Sea, and worse still, the 45 degree heat. cross the border easily, and camp about 20km on the other side. It’s around 10pm and we are completely wrecked. I eat a cold tin of fish an some tinned corn, Stephen is too tired to eat. We sleep in our tents, but there is a gale force wind, and we haven’t used any pegs. The only thing holding my tent down is me, which makes for an unnerving nights sleep. I’m pretty tired though, and I manage okay.
We are only 140km from Almaty, and have done pretty well out of the day. Tim is still in Almaty with the passport blues, and it will be good to see him tomorrow.
