The western stretches of Kazakhstan

As usual, I’m well behind in my posts, but Internet has been pretty slow in the places I’ve been. But now I have some decent connectivity, so time to rectify.

Sadly, there is little to report from my time in Kazakhstan. After crossing the Russian border I rode into Atyrau where I would take a few days to relax and recover from my head cold. I was already blowing my nose a thousand times a day and the extreme variation between 46 degree temperatures outside and semi-arctic air conditioning inside seemed to prolong my mild misery. The town itself was very quiet, but I immediately noticed the change in ethnicity since crossing the border. As best as I could make out, people typically stayed indoors during the heat of the day, but would be out strolling at night. I still had the World Cup games on TV to entertain me and aside from some general walking about which was greatly minimised due to the heat, I had a very uneventful time in Atyrau.

After four nights and feeling a bit better, I headed to Beyneu, an even smaller town with next to nothing to do. I was due to meet a Spaniard named Samuel here. We’d met on the motorcycle forum (Horizons Unlimited) and I was excited to be finally riding with someone. I was yet to ascertain whether it would be just Sam and I or whether he was bringing company. He was on his way across the Caspian Sea on the infamous ferry.

Note: The Caspian Sea ferry which crosses between Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan (as well as a couple of other routes) is well known amongst Central Asian travelers. I’d managed to avoid it myself, but for those who can’t go through Iran or Turkmenistan, it is often the route of last resort. Whilst the journey is miserable enough (limited food options, less than desirable quarters and sometimes a 24 journey taking twice as long on the old Soviet rust buckets), it;’s the waiting beforehand that really gets to everyone. You can be lucky and turn up on the day and be on your way. Alternatively, you may find yourself waiting at the port for a week. Some choose to camp out, others choose to stay in town and wait for the call. Even then, boarding at 9am may not guarantee a departure til that evening. A genuine travel experience that is iconic for all the above reasons.

As I walked into Hotel Beyneu I was greeted by the friendly Murat. His family own the hotel and he spends most of his time at the front desk watching YouTube. Nevertheless, he also has a job in the oil and gas industry a few hundred kilometres away which takes him away from home for a couple of months at a time. It was here I finally started to meet some moto travelers. The first were a jovial and stereotypical French duo. Expressive and gregarious, they’d ridden through the night from the port and were on the same ferry as Sam. I was glad to know Sam would be on his way the next day.

In the meantime, Murat decided we should have a beer. Which became two, then three, then six. There wasn’t really much to do in this town and Murat decided the best option was to drink. He also had some guests who were ecologists for the Kazakh government. They invited me to join them in drinking vodka and before I knew it we had a regular little party happening. As Murat liked to quote: “The Russians taught us how to drink, but didn’t teach us how much”. From my brief encounter I’d say he was right. Come midnight we jumped into a taxi and headed to the local nightclub. Yes, there was a nightclub in this tiny town. After a brief attempt to dance with some girls we were promptly kicked out and on our way back to Murat’s hotel. The night was officially over. And I was glad for it.

The next day a wild looking biker stepped inside after what would have been a scorching hot ride. Sam? Sure was. Along with four riding buddies! Rik and Bento from the Netherlands, Lukas from Austria and Rafal from Poland. Whilst Rafal was due to head north across Kazakhstan, I was excited to find out the remaining four would be my travel companions for Uzbekistan and beyond. Each guy was on his own adventure, but through forums, chance encounters and organised border crossings for China, they’d managed to meet up along the way and now here they all were in their sweaty glory.

Immediately, I could tell we had a great mix of characters. Each guy on his own route with his own time schedule and his own motivations and desires. Samuel was riding the new Honda Africa Twin. Rik was on an old Honda Transalp. Bento was on his shiny new BMW 1200 GS and Lukas was on a Husqvarna 701 (basically the same bike as mine, but newer).

The boys settled in for the night and the next day we’d be set for Uzbekistan. After months of solo travel, it was fun to be part of a posse. I also could enjoy being a bit of a “passenger” in that I didn’t need to think about route planning or timing. I was happy enough to be go with the flow and my schedule gave me the luxury of doing so. Whilst it may have been just a bit of a transit country, it was nice just to get a small peek into Kazakhstan culture. Western Kazakhstan is no doubt are harsh and inhospitable environment, but as usual the people make up for it.