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cycle touring
Kazakhstan May 14, 15…Gone Fishin
Breaking down camp well before 6 am, I pass through a small town. Picking up minimal supplies, like candy, along with some ice cream for breakfast.
It’s been close to a week since my last shower and I saw a gas station/truck stop that seemed to offer something of the sort. But, it either wasn’t open that early or just not open at all.
I ride through the barren steppe with a headwind until about 11 when a blue, 2 door Lada pulls up next to me.
There are two men in front, a bit older, and they are extremely friendly and waving at me. Asking me where I’m from and they are even happier to hear I’m an American. We wave goodbye and they move ahead.
They stop about 200 meters ahead.
I’m greeted by two men and an old tiny Kazakhstan flag. They seem so excited to meet me and so welcoming I can’t help smiling during the entire conversation.
He tells me they are going fishing in Lake Balhash and I am invited to come along. Them miming that I’ll throw my bike on the car and we’ll all go together. It’s only 11am but, if you’ve been following this journey for awhile now, you know I rarely turn down offers of any sort. Well, I do turn down the offers for sex…
One man tells me his wife is in the back of the car and this is the confirmation that I shouldn’t have too many problems.
He pops the trunk of the tiny 2 door Lada and there is a tiny girl sitting in the back with reflective aviator sunglasses on. We exchange “hellos”…she doesn’t look Kazakh or Russian, but she does appear to be very young. As she moves around in the area of the hatchback, for me to put my bags in the back, I catch a glimpse of her eyes behind the sunglasses.
Holy F*$K! What am I getting into?
Her eyes are nearly swollen shut and the skin dark purple. It’s the worst black eyes I’ve ever seen and I try not to look too much. I cringe from sympathy pains as I throw my bags into the back, being engulfed by the smell of fish.
They tell me to sit in the passenger seat by I insist on sitting in the back with the wife.
We head off the road and throw sand tracks within just a few minutes. I’m trying to settle my nerves, as I’m having flashbacks of the perverted police officer in the Gobi. Okay, these people aren’t intoxicated, friendly, and it’s daylight. I’m trying to make mental notes of the tracks just in case I have to make a run for it. We are heading East, further and further from the main road but I can keep my orientation by the power lines and the city to the South along the lake.
We pass wild horses through the sand, listening to Hip Hop being blasted through the Lada. I’m forced into the front seat, as a guest. The heater is also blasting on me.
At one point Jalabad, the driver, jumps out and then jumps back in with a small bouquet of wild flowers. For me? Yes. Okay, this is uncomfortable, what about your wife?
It’s about a 15 minute ride through the sand until we arrive at a tiny shack on the banks of a sparkling turquoise lake. We get out of the car and my senses are filled with the smell of salt and dried fish…and the sun beating down on me.
There is an old man at the shack and a very old aluminum boat.
The two men from the car and the wife begin preparing the boat. It’s slid off the trailer and we begin leaving the bank, the 4 of us.
My seat is an old 2×4 set across the front. The driver picks up speed and I’m bouncing all over the place, attempting to secure my camera.
We arrive to the first net in the middle of the lake. As the men begin pulling the net to grab the fish, the wife is in the back scooping out the water that leaks in.
The men toss fish from the front to the back, barely missing my head and hers.
We continue checking nets for about the next 2 hours. The leak is peaceful, and calm, and curious birds all along the way. There are fish I’d never seen before. I watch the wife, behind my sunglasses, sticking her finger in the eye of one of the fish. Not as cruelty, but I saw it as a curiosity, a playfulness.
The driver of the Lada and boat…the leader. His name is “Jalabad”.
Fishing partner and wife.
We come back in and dock the boat. There is a jeep there with one police officer and 2 other men. They are talking to the old man that lives in the fishing shack. The men from the boat join in and I can tell the conversation is about me.
The wife and I go sit in the Lada and wait for the men. As we are completely ignored. A giant bee flies into the car and startles her from her sleep. It’s hot in the sun…I want to go, I want to get out of the sun.
As we are speeding through the sand, I am invited for tea. I’m in the front seat, with the wife squeezed between us. Wife gets a smile across her face and she puts in extra effort with the invite to come to her home.
The first thought to my mind is, “If my presence will keep him from beating the shit out of her…well, I ‘ll go.” If she were to be punched a few more times, she would probably lose the eyeball. But, here I am making assumptions.
What I do notice is both eyes are black, the worst one being her right eye, and her husband is right handed…along with a big ring on it. She also has dozens of scratches all over her face and neck. This is just weird, men usually don’t beat and scratch women.
(I wish I could remember her name.)
After unloading the bike and gear, Jalabad leaves to get rid of the fish and I spend time with the wife. She makes me Nestle hot chocolate and adds a shit ton of extra sugar.
She walks into the kitchen with her hand covering her eye and signals to me not to look. I give a hand signal to dismiss, it’s not my business and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.
We sit in the kitchen, the apartment empty except for a few necessities. A new fridge, washer/dryer, and in the living room a bed, 2 chairs, a tv, and countless DVDs. Their bedroom closed off.
Within 15 minutes we are scribbling on paper and drawing photos to communicate. Also using a Russian English dictionary we are able to get simple questions and answers across. She had quit covering her eye and tells me it was Russian girls in Balhash. She is actually half Korean and half Russian, 20 years old and Jalabad is 46, his second marriage and has 2 children.
Jalabad returns home and we have dinner together. Boiled chicken, pasta, and onions…all boiled together. Of course with bread, topped with mayonaise and ketchup. Not my choice but my hosts insist it’s delicious…I’ll say differently.
They escort me to the living room, throw some awful American movie in the DVD player with a hilarious Russian overdub. It’s just a man translating the movie…he does it all…like reading from a script. I’m mostly entertained by the Russian Sprite commercials.
I’m under the impression I will be getting a ride tomorrow, so I settle in for the night and not think too much about my next step.
Jalabad and his wife are in the other room. Finally, I smell marijuana and realize they are getting high. Whatever, none of my business.
It’s getting very late and they enter the room. They have an idea and I’m pulled into the kitchen. Jalabad makes a sketch of me getting bathed by his wife. Um, no thanks…I can pour water over myself and don’t need creep fest 2012. I thank them for the offer, laughing, and say I’m okay.
I’m in bed half asleep, in the living room and I can hear the wife go to bed. Jalabad is switching off the lights and I’m very aware of what may happen next. I’m lying with my face to the wall and the lights are off. Within a few seconds, I have hands rubbing my legs…I turn over and see Jalabad kneeling at the foot of my bed and I kick him away simultaneously.
Damn Sex Pests, everywhere!
To be continued…
Kazakhstan May 13 2012
I hit 20,000km around 10am, here.
The South East edge of lake Balhash around noon. It’s been baby animal season in Central Asia for the past few months.
I had had an early lunch in the town and had been passed by a motorcycle. It had honked at me while passing. Then as I was hunting down lunch, I had taken a double look because I could of sworn it was a woman.
After lunch I’m riding and she passes me and I see her braid hanging out the back of her helmet. God damn I want a motorbike…I bet she is one rad chick.
Nap time. I’m visited by a couple police officers to check on me…along with about a half a dozen of truck drivers and other randoms. I love the bus stops here, besides offering shade and somewhere to sleep, I get to enjoy some nice art and design…from one of my favorite art periods.
The day is spent pushing along the edge of the lake. I’m beginning to see shops on the side of the road selling “pыба” – fish. I can smell the salt from each little shack as I ride by. It’s a nice smoky flavor but I don’t stop to buy any because I’m not sure what standard prices are and I’m not sure how to store it in my bike bags.
There are some hills to the West of the lake that I push my bike behind for camp. It’s about a kilometer from a truck stop that I can see some people and trucks. The mosquitoes are gradually getting worse and worse and I have to constantly shake my whole body while setting up my tent to prevent getting eaten alive. There is no cooking in this area, unless the wind is strong or on the side of the road, where they don’t seem to be that bad. That’s the advantage to the wind of the Steppe, if it’s slight, it will keep the mosquitoes from swarming and there are nasty little flies that also like to go up my nose and in my ears.
Day 8: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – April 1 2012
Okay, so here I go, recounting the worse April Fool’s Day joke yet. And, the second most fearful time of my life. (The first being a pretty bad car wreck, where I saw my life flash before my eyes…before being thrown into the backseat headrest from the front passenger seat.)
I shove my head outside around 8am and exclaim to the tent next to me, “Oh my god, this may be the most beautiful sunrise ever!” I race out of my tent with my camera and tell the boys to chill for a little while, I’m working.
View from my tent at around 8am:
Campsite, around 8:30am:
Other images won’t be posted here, sorry. Also, no more large res images loaded – too much download activity on this site.
When I put on my frozen socks and take a walk outside. My boots are so stiff from the water freezing in the soles. This is going to be an awesome day!
The boys push off about 15 minutes before me. We can see the pass winding up the hill, black speckles (the trucks) coming down the pass.
We are estimating about 15km to the pass.
The wind begins to kick up. The sun is bright, beautiful clouds to our West.
There is a new hand signal from the drivers today. They continually make a throat cutting gesture from behind the driver’s wheel. What, death? Do you mean “death” as you slice your throat?! Okay, whatever, lets move on.
The roads are getting worse and worse. The wind picking up. Big clouds moving through the sky.
10:43 AM
11:31 AM
We sit on the side of the road before ice wall’s so the traffic can pass. Then we hustle the best we can over the ice to get to a clearing.
11:45 AM
I distinctly remember this driver. He was expressing to Matt about the skies and the road ahead and urging us to go faster. He did the same thing to me and pushed my bike past his truck. He showed a genuine concern for us and kept pointing at the clouds looming ahead.
To the right of the truck, you can see the pass leading up the hill. We have about 10km left.
We’ve been dealing with ice wall’s for awhile now. Today is the worse day. Traffic is stopped and we try to help one another throw our bikes up onto the snow…digging in the best we can. We stick close together, one will throw their bike in and then run to assist – usually me. Again, my bike weighs considerably more.
This is an example of the ice wall. Again, continually getting truck drivers cutting their throats at us.
Around noon, we are still on the 8 and half incline up the pass and the trucks are passing through the single lane. Lucas is well ahead and it’s just Matt and I.
I pull my bike out of the snow, as it’s about a half meter up the ice wall from the previous truck. I had climbed the wall and Matt had shoved the bike on top of me. I had snow in my boots and mittens but I was a safe distance from the truck.
Not 5 minutes later there is another truck coming towards us. Matt runs up with his bike and throws it up in the snow. I don’t have time. I press bike against the ice wall and then me.
Matt: “Are you sure you want to be there?”
Me: “It’s ok, I haven’t got a choice.”
The next place would of been exactly where I had been.
I make eye contact with the driver, at nearly eye level. I’m watching the tail end of the truck. It’s coming closer and closer and closer AND CLOSER…I’m in between the bike and the truck. The truck is a couple centimeters from my handlebars and bags and I envision myself getting pulled in with the bike under the wheel well….
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The second loudest scream on tour as I envision my bowels being cut open by the truck. Or the bike being clipped and pulling me into the wheels, with me in between.
Lesson Learned: When a riding partner doubts your decision in life or death moments…DOUBT YOUR DECISION.
12:41
We take a break after the death ice wall, Matt shares the story with Lucas and the decision has been made to have lunch at the top of the pass…about 3km away.
12:46
It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
1:00 PM
Something strange is beginning to happen. You can see the ice begin to fly from behind me. I had jumped over an ice wall to block the wind and get out of the way.
I begin to bundle up but then realize my zipper is broken on my jacket and my mittens are shoved with snow. Ducking into the ice wall, Matt comes back and tells me we have to get going…there’s a storm coming in.
Within seconds it’s a complete white out. The pass is about a kilometer away. I’m slipping in strength and I look back at Matt, “Just go on without me, I can’t keep up” as I’m blinded by blowing snow and ice. “Don’t be stupid, Ellen”, was stated very calmly and with a bit of love and concern.
We make it to the peak, a little over 3700m high, in the midst of a storm. Pressing our bodies against an ice wall, we have no idea what we should do. We are all silent. Waiting, freezing…knowing this is really bad.
A car comes by, after a couple of minutes arranging prices, they say they will take us to Sary-Tash for 100USD. No one has USD on them so we convince them to take 100 Euros. Little do they know they are getting more money out of it.
1:54 PM:
Bikes loaded.
As we were preparing to get in the car, I brushed my hand against my face. Something felt very weird. I touched my face again…what’s going on with my skin? (Later in the car, the boys would tell me my face was frozen and it was the scariest thing they had seen in their lives. My skin was beginning to turn blue, according to them. Ever since this day, I go by the nickname, “Ice Face”. Tough…eh?)
We load into the tiny car and as the seat in front is lowered, I can feel pressure on my frozen toe. We all begin screaming to get the passenger up. I didn’t nearly lose my toe from the storm, but by an old car seat being lowered onto it.
They begin towards Sary-Tash. There are a few trucks pulled over and everyone waving around the “X” symbol. The road is closed. We can’t continue. They tell us we have to go back to the town on the border.
SHIT! 3 DAYS AND WE ARE GOING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED. No choice. No option.
As the car turns around and we head back, the driver points to the left. Lucas and I gasp as there is a frozen horse upside down, hooves mid air – in the midst of a run. What is going on?
The blizzard lasts for close to 2 hours, complete white out. The passenger will get out to help the car around. Sometimes both getting out to help oncoming traffic get through.
We have all moved our boots and socks. I’m repeatedly told I’m going to have to have my toes cut off. The boys shove theirs in their sleeping bags and mine are shoved in my hat…heels exposed.
It’s a tight fit in the car, and I’m sitting in the middle. I can see the gas gauge, nearly empty.
The driver is miming to us that we may have to sleep in the car. Every time both of them leave, the 3 of us are trying to figure out if it means we are sleeping there for the night.
I start my prayers of “oh mani padme hum”…the sky begins to break…I see sunshine…….I shove my head out the window with the loudest “Hallelujah” you’d ever hear.
The storm is over after nearly 2 hours. It takes us 6 hours to make it to their home. Where will be fed and cared for.
This will be an unforgettable April Fool’s Day, uniting the brothers of North East South West by Bike and the Wander Cyclist for ever.
April 2nd,
The driver will give us a ride to Sary-Tash. Where from there, we are able to hire a van to Osh. We are exhausted…we are on time lines…we nearly died – and me twice.
The daughter of the driver is attached to me. She loves having her photo taken and even struts as if she is on a catwalk at one point. She’s darling and also really wants my ring. I let her play with my eyeglasses instead. She stayed by my side during most of the visit and during our breaks on the car ride.
My mom recently asked me, “What were you thinking before the car picked you up?”
Honestly, I don’t know…nor do I remember. I just know I was really concerned about my soaking wet, cold feet. The boys and I did a tally on how many toes and fingers would of been lost if we hadn’t been picked up. We are pretty sure there would of been at least 3 lost – probably all mine.
I love you Matt and Lucas. Really.
Attention: All cyclists crossing FROM China to Kyrgyzstan
Must Read:
As of January 2012, you must get your Passport Exit Stamp approximately 160 km East of the China border. The city is called “Wuqia” and you must go through the Exit/Entry Station. This is for cyclists crossing FROM China to Kyrgyzstan.
If you arrive at the border without your Exit stamp, there is NO alternative but to return the 160km. The roads have been reported as patchy but I would report that they are some of the worst road conditions I have experienced. This was late winter/early spring with snow, morning ice, mud, iced mud, and roads being flooded out because of the melt. They are currently “working” on a new highway. When I say “working” it means everything has been torn up and some patches completed but I didn’t see ONE PERSON working on it during the week out there.
Wonderful camping opportunities, safe, and sparse population…and hundreds of wild camels.
Please pass this information along to others and repost on as many sites as possible.
The crossing is also closed on the weekends and there is very little to purchase in regards to supplies at the border. I suggest that you stock up on 7 days worth of supplies in Wuqia. This should get you to Sary-Tash Kyrgyzstan if the weather is GOOD. If the weather is bad, the Tajik truck drivers coming from Sary-Tash will give you breads, cookies, cans of tuna, or whatever they have in their truck. You won’t starve…but BE PREPARED.
I’ve thought this before…
…but never posted it.
Months back, who knows where or when, I took a look at my bags. Shit spilling out everywhere, random dirty socks keeping a pit stained shirt company, an unwashed spoon with smears of dried peanut butter chillin’ on some dirty ass surface, my “delicates” flipped inside out for some air cleaning, wads of crumpled CLEAN (probably stolen from noodle joint) toilet paper, towels/wash cloths just hanging from the “cleanest” place, and maps just thrown out everywhere.
I always feel like there is a direct correlation between the state of a cyclist’s mind/heart and the condition of their bags and the contents they contain – or don’t contain.
Waking up this morning, I looked at the corner of this room. I have my entire life strewn about, taking up about 1 meter by 2. Jesus Christ Ellen, pull your shit together. I feel like I can’t find anything, left dirty clothes sitting in a pan of water over night because I decided to pass out with my migraine rather than wash them. And there is that damn dirty peanut butter knife, next to my cooking pot with dried coffee in the bottom. I have no effin clue where my spoon is. Maybe I used it for the crack last night…
Tomorrow, I’m pulling my bike up here and doing some “housecleaning”. Pack those panniers the way they are supposed to be packed/organized and put them on Nelly.