Dear all,
Thanks for reading this newsletter, which is released after 8860km on the roads... I wish this new issue will give you as much pleasure as the previous one! It covers my last days in Iran, my brief crossing of Turkmenistan and my first days in Uzbekistan... Et bon voyage a vous !
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I left the Iranian city of Gonbad-e-Kavus (N-E of Iran) only late in the afternoon. The sun was already low on the horizon line, hitting hard on my back & neck. Shadows were already long on the asphalt, showing me the way straight to a new place where to camp. But, well, where exactly in this infinite steppe ??!
Far on my right, along the mountaneous border with Turkmenistan (some 80 km in the North), the ruins of the Alexander's Wall, a construction actually built after the reign of Alexander-the-Great, which was supposed to protect the people from the barbarian invasions from the North : Imagine something similar to the Great Wall in China or to the Hadrian's Wall between Scotland and England, but almost completely ruined or buried : There was no way to hide behind and actually almost nothing to see. And closer to me, 360 degrees around, nothing but short dry grass, flat land and this immense sky where clouds were now gathering. No tree. No hill. No car on the road. And daylight was slowly fading.
When the 10th teenager came next to me on his noisy motorbike with the same ever-repeated questions ("Where are you from", etc.), I should have been very unpolite; Instead I listed to him. He spoke a proper English. After a while, I learnt that his brother taught him, he said. But who did it to his brother ?
Apparently an American woman did. On the word "American", I remembered my German friends Monika and Heiner, met in Esfahan one month earlier... They initially wanted to travel Iran by horses. I remembered that they went to the NE of Iran in order to buy some horses to... An American lady! Could it be her? ... Here in the middle of nowhere, 30 minutes before sunset, when I need a haven where to anchor for the night?...
Louise Firouz is indeed a lady, ruling over an important horse-farm together with the assistance of local staff. A horse-farm ? I should say a rare conservatory of one of the finest horses ever, the legendary Tcherarani or Turkmen breed.
...Tcheraranis are the horses of the famous Boushkashi, of Alexander-the-Great's cavalry and, closer to my heart, of the fantastic novel "Les Cavaliers" (The Horsemen) by Joseph Kessel... (you can just get the book and read it now!)
Those horses are amazingly noble, thin-headed and thin-legged, extremely energetic and so elegant! They are rather tall and their colours varies from black to chestnut to grey-white... Tcheraranis are living legends and dream horses !
I stayed 2 days with Louise meanwhile the rain fell heavily on the steppe, which was soon flooded. Roads and bridges were cut for a while, as if I was supposed to be there, resting and looking at the horses, being hypnotised by them... A second of peace and beauty.
On the second day, the steppe was drier and the roads re-opened. And I left. I left again! ... Traveling is about meeting wonderful people in an instant and leaving them almost as quickly. Open and Close... That's the game. Au revoir then, dear Louise. Fare well Tcheraranis !
The first kilometers after the horse-farm were made of rather moody thoughts unrolled along mudy and hilly secondary roads. Amazingly enough, despite of the mud floods, the dirt and the destructions the rains brought, people were friendly and smiling... Amazing Iranians!
Later in the day, I passed a wall of mountains against which I hurt my right knee (Iranian roads are soo steep, unbelievable) and I ended up late in a desert surrounded by distant mineral mountains. I was back in the absolute silence, with lightnings stricking on the summits all around me, but so far away. Above me, there were only stars. Countless stars. No moon. And the Milky Way was showing the same line from West to East I have been following for the last five months...
And then, late in the night, the storm was on me. At first, a few lazy drops, which woke me up. In a second I was out, covering the mosquito-net with the tent-roof. A second after, the few drops became delluge. I then went through hours of heavy rainfalls, packed in my sleeping-bag under my ridiculously small tent! Flashes were striking all around me. Thunder cracks were tearing the sky. And water was pouring everywhere: The desert soon became a pool. Lezards, spiders - all that could creep and fly - found a precarious refuge between the roof of my tent and the mosquito-net. My bike was 5 meters of me, standing in the storm... What if a lightnings hit it ?...
In the morning, the sky was bright blue, the desert was peaceful again. Only a few muddy ponds were here and there to tell what happened in the night... Birds were singing again in the fresh air.
Once all my gears were perfectly dry and packed again, I continued my journey to the border. After a hundred kilometers in the desert, I reached the main road again in Ashkhaneh. I tried to adapt to the heavy traffic, the noise and the bad smells for 50km, up to Bojnurd; My right knee was getting really sore, time was getting short before my visa would expire and the road was definitely unpleasant and dangerous. In Bojnurd then, I made up my mind to go to Ghoshkan by truck, which I reached after nightfall and where I stayed 2 nights. I got a hotel room there for 5USD/night. And you know what? I realised that it had been since Bayburt in Turkey, 3 months ago, that I had not been alone in my own room. What an immense comfort it was! As a consequence, I slept nearly 15 hours in a row the first night :-)
The final assault to the border started in the desert, at the Northern gates of Ghoshkan. Then I started to go uphills into the arid and powerful Doppeh-Dag mounts. The road was rather new and luckily enough, it was not as steep as usual in Iran. And only a few trucks and cars were driving upon; In short, it was a dream-road to ride. Even my right knee was fit and happy again!
I went into the clouds in the evening. It got chilly and humid. Visibility was reduced to may be 20 meters. I camped some 10km before the border in a ruined shepherd's house - only 3 pieces of walls rather - in the clouds.
It rained all night long but I could keep my gears dry. In the morning, I went up to the border-point; I had tea with some Iranian policemen for the last time and I passed into Turkmenistan... Ashqabad was down in the valley, some 35km away, 1500m lower. Mountains were greener on this side, as covered with green-yellowish velvet. I was shouting with joy.
I soon reached Ashqabad, where I stayed till I got my visa registered (this extends one's transit visa from 5 days to 7). And I left behind me a city which shows huge new buildings and the megalomania of the country's Ruler as well as some decent renewed communist buildings where a shy population was either ignoring or avoiding me, or rather smiling at me. Turkmen people look really Asian, living together with a mixed European (Russian) population. Russian and Turkmen languages are both equally spoken. Women are "socially" equals to men; You see many of them in the street. Their traditional dresses are bright and colourful. Some women go dressed as Europeans, with short skirts of naked shoulders : This was a really pleasant shock after those months of hijabs and tchadors. Many children walk in the streets, mostly in lovely school uniforms. Girls have long traditional velvet dresses (either dark green or red) and a sophisticated hair arrangements. Boys wears a jacket and a little hat. They look very cute.
After 50km and a night in some abandonned wineyards, I took a truck to reach Mary, in the South-East of Turkmenistan, where the only road of the country bends North towards Turkmenabad after following the Doppeh-Dag mounts from the Caspian Sea up to the Afghan border. In Mary, Turkmenistan started to open to me : People were talkative, curious, hospitable. Before, police controls were so frequent and people looked somehow so scared that I had no chance to meet with anyone.
Turkmenistan is not a free country and you feel it, you see it. It is obvious. Policemen are rather friendly with tourists. But to be honest, I hated them, for those ones are not to protect or help the Turkmen people, but well there to control, check and submit them at every instant.
The Silk Road "officially" starts in Mary. But rather than Silk Road, I think that we should better call it "Cotton Road" : Cotton fields are everywhere. And cotton flowers are curently all in blossoms. Fields are brown and white. Harvests have started and people work hard under the sun in the fields to hand-collect them. Huge irrigated fields! An extensive irrigation, which sucks out the waters of the Amurdar'Ya River and causes the reduction of the Aral Sea 1000km away in the North West... But people do not seem to be aware of that in Turkmenistan. It is not "official", you understand. However, cotton fields are beautiful.
Soon after Mary, camels replaced cows and horses. And the desert started. 300km of a rather bushy and absolutely flat desert. A village every 50 km only. Nothing in between. A few trucks are transiting along the Silk Road, mostly Turkish or Iranian trucks. It was good to wave at them and sometimes, have tea with the drivers. We mixed some Turkish, Farsi, Russian, English, French and German languages in merry discussions before the road would take us again. We are the modern Silk- Roaders !
I chose to always have up to 5L of water with me to be sure I would have enough supply for a dinner, a shower, a breakfast and one ridding day beyond. But I was never short of it, I went some 100km a day with real difficulty.
It was a fascinating experience to cross this empty land, which dries out eyes, skin, throat. On the 3rd day I reached Turkmenabad. Behind it flows the mythic Amurdar'Ya River. Thanks to the river, the city is a green island in the desert. People are very hospitable (Ashqabad and the threats of the Power are far). But police is still everywhere, as bothering as mosquitos. And as stupid as cows, I must say. Moooooh!
I left Turkmenistan on Sept. 23rd when I entered into Uzbekistan and when I started to head up to Boukhara, the former capital of the legendary Boukhara Emirate.
The country looked immediately greener to me, at least along the roads. Irrigation is probably more extensive here and also more efficient. Further away the desert must be the same as in Turkmenistan.
Roads are broader and... empty! ...Where in Turkemistan 1 liter of oil costs 400 Manat (EUR 0.2) and roads are narrow and rather busy, in South Uzbekistan, there is almost no car at all. Roads are silent. People walk or have a bike. Or a donkey. Or use collective transport.
There is no police, or just as normal. People are talkative and very curious. And so friendly !
Well, Uzebekistan is a relief after Turkmenistan.
Poor Turkmenistan... Poor Turkmen people. Left behind, far behind.
Boukhara. A jewel in the middle of the desert.
So many mosques and madrasas and a superb minaret among many smaller ones show the ancient splendour of this place. Those once religious buildings are now mostly carpet or souvenirs markets. During communist times, some were even turned into cinemas. Uzbek -Central Asian- carpets and embroidery are beautiful. It is a great pity I only have a bike and not a truck to take it all back home !
Many groups of tourists go from one place to another by bus. Russian and European tourists, who, as everywhere, quickly take a few pictures of the listed monuments and pay 3 times the normal price of goods. Uzbeks take advantage of them (of me too!) with a smile and a communicative good mood... My bike attracts friendly comments from Italians, Germans or French and some even take pictures of me... That's rather funny! Some young Uzbek girls can speak up to 10 languages to sell us some booklets or postcards...
Sunset in the old streets is a moment when time is suspended. The light turns warm, the stones are golden, the streets are silent. Boukhara is a peaceful city, a place to rest after a week through the desert... Like caravans used to in the past.
I am now preparing to ride to Samarkand along small and -I hope! - asphalted road. From there, I shall take a return train ticket to Tashkent, the capital city of Uzbekistan, North of the country, in order get both a Kyrgiz and a Tajik visa... Before I come back to my bike left in Samarkand and from there - enter into Tajikistan and take the remote and magnificient Pamir Highway at an average altitude of 4000m towards Kyrgistan and finally... Kachgar in China.
But this is another story !! Altitude is still 200m above sea level here, outside temperature is 40 degrees at noon. Desert is all around the city and sand gets into the houses as well as in the clothes or the eyes...
I think of you all, and I hope you're all very well. Hey, how is it where you are ?
Take care,
Barth
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Photos Ouzbékistan
Carnets de voyage Ouzbékistan
Vidéos Ouzbékistan
Carte Ouzbékistan
Guide de voyage Ouzbékistan
Santé Ouzbékistan
Billets d'avion Ouzbékistan
