DAY 6. Nukus - Beyneu. "Uncle Lesha"
We were up at 5 am. Checked the bikes, got some quick breakfast, packed lunch boxes from the hotel and took off.
Those two foreigners, who decided to join us couldn't handle our rhythm and less than in an hour went far behind us, that we even lost their view. Sorry guys…we gotta take our guys out of here.
The first 100 kilometer was the dirt road and after a sealed road began, but it was quite short. The sun was getting higher heating up the air. But if there is only sand between Bukhara and Khiva, here was just empty land. Absolutely empty!!! Flat land, the sun and the road. Water break, fuel load, move forward. Flat land, the sun and the road. Water break, fuel load, move forward. And not changing view for hours – Horizons of Salvador Dali((
So we reached the border with Kazakhstan. Holly shit…I’ve never seen such a primeval international border crossing point. Officers and soldiers are just impudent fellows. They are all sitting in their booths and want something from you. And those booths are standing right and left without any signs or markings. We had no idea who was the customs officer and who was the border patrol. Covered with dust we had to go through these procedures under scalding sun. Only Kamaz drivers were standing in line to those booths. And there are no melons or watermelons in their trucks, but Uzbeks! They all are headed to Russia to find a job, because in Uzbekistan there is only slave job for a song or no work at all. Uzbek people are ready to reach Russia in any conditions as in this case: hot metal containers with tiny ventilation windows. That’s the only way they can earn 200 dollars a month in Russia in order to send 150 of them to their family in Uzbekistan. And those money will be barely enough for family out of 15 people. Illegal emigration is flourishing here.
Sleeping in the shade
Our Japanese got under one tiny shelter to hide in its shadow as small lambs, and started filling in the forms trying to find any flat surface – own knees, someone’s back, palms, backpacks, since there were no tables for that. The thing I liked in our Japanese the most was that for the past tours we had together in Central Asia, it’s hard to surprise them. They would quietly do whatever we wanted them to and they even had enough of will to make some jokes between each other. I’ve noticed couple of foreign tourists, who were passing border with us. According to vehicle registration numbers and equipped Land Rover those guys were English. I wish you could see their faces. They were standing there with their mouth wide opened, holding own documents not knowing what to do. Where should they go, what should they write, whom to give to? None of those officers spoke any English even though they had to. They actually didn’t give a shit about anyone. I wouldn’t pay any attention to those folks if they were not travellers, but I felt some sympathy to them. I went over and tried to explain them where, why and whom they should go to. They were about to jump for happiness and offered to come with them as their guide, they also wanted to run over to their car and bring some presents. But I was busy enough since I wanted to take my guys out of here as fast as I could. And we finally made it.
On the border
We had to cover about 50 kilometers from border with Beineu. The sun wasn’t that bad so we flew over to Beineu quite fast. There was one fellow named Lesha expecting us, the only Russian, who lived there since forever and didn’t want to leave this God forsaken place. Uncle Lesha had to help us out with accommodation. I had no idea who he was. I got his contact number from my friend MadMax. All I knew about him was that he used to do motocross during USSR times. At the beginning of the tour I called to uncle Lesha and asked him to provide us comfortable accommodation for our honorary guests from the Land of the Rising Sun. At those times there were no hotels, no guest houses in Beineu town. And uncle Lesha replied something like:”Don’t fret, man..ya come and I’ll take care of everything”. I told to the Japanese that there was a nice place prepared for us, which I thought was true. When we got there it was pretty easy to find uncle Lesha. As the locals saw our bikes they knew that we were looking for uncle Lesha. “You gotta go that way!”, - they said.
I’ve heard about Beyneu long time ago, local people call it Bombay for some reason. Beyneu is well known as the edge of the Earth. Uncle Lesha was the only Russian left living here, what created pretty sad picture in my head when I was in Almaty. Something like this: small jack-deuce wooden house with broken gates, where lonely uncle Lesha is doing nothing, but drinking vodka surrounded with awards and prizes for motor cross.
People and the road brought us to a fenced territory. The gates got opened and we came in. Then we heard: “Welcome fellas, my name is uncle Lesha, park your bikes here – it’s all my territory”. “All my” was the following: 1 hectare square surrounded with 2 meters brick fence, with buses, trucks and minivans standing alongside of the fence with lines of illegal Uzbeks coming in and out. There were also big repair bays, couple of single story buildings, one of which had a “Canteen” sign, huge barking wolf dogs on a leash. It was all under control of that uncle Lesha, who was standing there and giving out the orders here and there. “Call me Sebastian Pereiro – a black wood seller”, - the first association reappeared in my head, a quote from one old movie about slaveholder.):eek1
I think uncle Lesha forgot that there were 9 of us about to come and was scratching his head thinking “Where the hell to place all of you?..” We followed him to a small house. Me and the Japanese, all dusty, dirty and exhausted went after him with our bags, hoping to take a shower and go to bed. We entered a dark smelling room, where we’ve seen nothing else, but two-story board beds. There were some other people, who fearfully glanced at us throughout the darkness.
- “Well, I think it’s quite alright here?” – uncle Lesha cheerfully asked.
- “What about them?” – I’ve asked and pointed to the people in the room with my mouth opened of such a surprise.
- “Ah, it’s not a big deal! Get the **** outta here!!” – he groaned. And the shades with opened eyes disappeared in a second just like in bad black-and-white movies.
- “So, is it ok now?” – uncle Lesha asked hopefully.
Even me and Sergey were quite shocked. I didn't even want to know what our Japanese had in their heads now. I got uncle Lesha outside and said: “Uncle Lesha, if you don’t want to be the reason of an international scandal and shame, you gotta find something more suitable for them, or just for the oldest folks!!!”:fpalm
- “Alright, let’s go and see something else, I’ve got a place for women, maybe they could stay in there? – he asked
Once we entered other building we got almost deaf of hysterical female screaming mixed with some Uzbek speech.
Oh my God! There were living two women who were changing right when we came in. We had to turn around feeling huge embarrassment. Uncle Lesha yelled out his magical phrase again and the room emptied.
“Alright?” – uncle Lesha asked feeling pretty satisfied with that scene. It was actually quite “alright”. It was a light room with clean sheets on the board beds, the floor was covered with carpet and I’ve noticed even a TV set and an AC. Iri san nodded his head, came in and placed his huge bag. Two more of his older friends followed him.
The weather was abnormally hot even for this region as uncle Lesha said. For me it seemed to be even worse than when we were standing at the border cross checking point :knary:knary:knary. My colleague Kazu san wanted to put a tent outside of the building, but then Sekine san came out with a bottle of whisky in his hand, sat on the ground and strictly said to him something in Japanese. I suppose it was something like: “What a clever dick you are!! Wanted to rest your smart ass in here and get some fresh air? **** no…you will be sleeping on those board beds just as we will…you wish…” – and took a swig from the bottle.
Kazu san sadly took his tent and wend back to the room. Sekine san was the only one out of older folks, who didn’t stay at the comfy females’ room. He was quite pissed. I and Comandor changed with looks – gotta join that grandpa. We sat on the ground near by him and finished that bottle of whisky in “Japanese way” – straight from the bottle with no snacks.
“Where are you gonna sleep?” – Sekine san asked calmly
“have no idea…but it doesn’t really matter, most important that you have somewhere to put your head on” – we replied. Sekine san father like tapped our shoulders, smiled and said: “You are real men” and wiggling went to the men’s room looking pretty satisfied.
At the end of the day when everyone is alive, safe and full, when everyone is sleeping and our bikes are fine, comes peaceful time for me and Sergey. We took some
and made a visit to uncle Lesha, who was living in his VIP room. He had everything in there, even Internet connection. Turned out that uncle Lesha is very kind and interesting person, just a good man. As my friend MadMax precisely said: “Uncle Lesha will give you some food and water, and after he will send you **** out of there”))
We were drinking
and uncle Lesha was telling about himself. He was a good teller. He told us about his wild youth during soviet union times, when he was driving bikes. He also spoke about bloody times, when the government opened hunting period for saigas. He with his friends from motorcycling team were working in folds and gazing thousand head of animals. They were making pretty good money with it. At those times there were bunch of saigas and motor cross fans. Everything has changed since then. Uncle Lesha showed pictures of motorcycling travellers, who lived at his place, some of them for quite a long time. I recognized every single face since we hosted them at the office of our SilkOffRoad club in Almaty. And of course uncle Lesha told us about the road that was expecting us tomorrow. “There is about 50 kilometers of sealed road from Beineu and about 200 kilometers of bladed road after. Try to drive on the edge of the bladed road, its much softer. Then there is a sealed road starts again and you are in Aktau”. “Hella the road…you will be ****ed up..” :johntm
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DAY 7. Beyneu - Aktau."Hellish road"
We woke up early. Everyone was pretty tired since no one could sleep because the night was too hot. At KazMunaiGas station we loaded our tanks with Kazakhstan petrol, got some water and took off. 50 kilometers of sealed road we covered very fast and after started that damn bladed road.
****ing bladed road! The road was washboard as accordion with huge pockets here and there. Then it was humping in the center and it was impossible to drive in the middle of the road, because the bike was vibrating too much and slipping to the side road. As uncle Lesha said, driving on the edges felt much better, but the dust started to cover wheels and it was kicking up so high, that those at the back were blinded and had to go far behind each other in order to be able to see the road. If I could collect all the bad roads during my tours when I was shaking like crazy and put it in one tour, even that wouldn’t be such a torture as these silly 200 kilometers of gravel road. I will not forget it. Ever. In a while I couldn’t hold the handle bar and place my feet. Sitting was beyond of our abilities, since the ass was in such a pain. We moved with speed 50-60 kilometer per hour. If you drive faster there is a big chance to fall off the seat or in a better case – broke the wheel. The body was still shaking even when we were having stops. Hot weather, mouth covered with dust. We lost vehicle numbers on our bikes. I’ve never seen anything like that. I’ve seen when vehicle registration numbers were hanging on the screws. But nothing like that. Simply tattered! Fell off every single bike.
I’ve been in tours with so many people from different countries, but what I like Japanese people for is that they are samurais. Pure samurais. Samurais to the very roots. They will follow you over glowing avalanche and ice water, but they will always stay still and calm and will never show their pain. They will never say “let’s stay a bit more and get rest” or something like “Let’s make a stop I’m thirsty” or even “wait! I gotta piss” or “you are driving too fast”. The do not say that. They will never show even if it is very bad. They will follow the group leader with their mouth shut, gritting own teeth, one after another just no to lose their faces in front of other samurais. We wouldn’t be able to pass this road if there were some other people with us.
We haven’t even realized that empty canisters and reserve tires fell off the trailer while Sergey was driving. They were tied up with a rope but the belts were torn with the corners of the trailer. Trailer borders were about to fall off. The good thing was that we didn’t have to turn around and get those canisters back. Turned out that there was a truck going behind us, the driver has noticed falling canisters, collected it and gave it back to us when we stopped to take a break. We were about to lose our mind when we’ve seen that the canisters were missing. We gave a big bottle of water to that kind fellow. He didn’t ask for more.
There was only one though rolling around my head. “When is the sealed road going to start?” “Where is that?” “Where is that?” “Where is that?”…The only good thing was that this damn landscape has changed. We went down and were driving on the bottom of the sea, that dried up million years ago, surrounded with canyon like coast. Just like views in Arizona or as we call it -Ustyurt plateau.
We’ve met a car on our way – Audi of the last model with Russian registration numbers. There was a couple inside, a girl and a boy. They were crawling in the same direction. As we got closer we were shocked – the car had no tires and was going on its rims . The bottom of the car was touching the ground at every hillock. Their speed was about 5 kilometers per hour. And they haven’t covered even the half of the road. There was nothing we could do except to take them with us as passengers. But they refused and asked just for some water. They said there was a car going from Aktau to help them. But I thought if they never met us or if there was no car, they would die in this desert for sure.
Eventually we reached the sealed road!!! Everyone was more than happy!! Japanese got off their bikes, fell on their knees and started kissing asphalted road. Symbolically of course. If someone saw us, they would think that we are insane. :bow:bow:bow
But to be honest we were so exhausted that the sealed road was also a torcher for us, since we had no power at all. Now we had another thought in our heads. “Where is the sea?” “Where is the sea?” “I need to get to the sea” “The sea…” “The sea…” “The sea…”
But there was still nothing. The sea appeared only when we’ve reached Aktau. We were soooo happy. Red color of the sunset made the sea view magically beautiful. Seemed like we were in the dream.
There was another unknown friend in Aktau who was supposed to meet us – Aleksey Melchagov. We had only phone talks with him. Once, , he found my phone number in the Internet and called me: “there is one foreigner got stuck in here, but he is heading to Almaty now, his bike is dying because of the roads quality. We welded up side-car from Ural motorbike to his bike, so he could get some rest on the road. Could you take care of him if he reaches Almaty with God’s help?”
The following story is a bit out of the topic. That guy’s name was Vincent (France). And he reached Almaty. He was driving old BMW police bike. In Aktau Aleksey and his friends welded side-car to his bike. After Aktau he stayed at uncle Lesha’s place for quite a long time and reached Almaty later and he lived in our office for quite a time. He was one cool, awesome dude. I’ve met may travellers. But that one…For me that guy was a living image of selfless travelling biker. He could barely pay for the petrol, but he would never ask for help – everyone was helping him just for nothing. He was one peaceful, smiling guy, who was always joking. I think his easy-going character was his engine during those trips. But what he valued the most was people, those he’s met on his way and talked to. He spoke no Russian, but somehow everyone could understand him. After Kazakhstan he went around all other stan countries, such as Afghanistan, Pakistan, and he has never reported about it. It’s a pity..When he was living in Pakistan he wrote me a message on the tablet and send it through a mobile phone of some warlord. Then he got lost again and appeared somewhere in Bangladesh. And each time he would talk up the side-car from Ural motorcycle that they’ve connected to his bike. When he was leaving Kazakhstan, he was smiling through the tears (seriously): “You are great people, you have real life inside. I hope with God’s help I will come back”.
Vincent Klotre in Almaty with his bike.
Yeah, man, it’s gonna take some time when I cover the distance you have passed, but thanks to you I have understood one very simple idea: “With the heart opened, kind sole and easy character you can reach any place, even the Moon on the bike, because the stars will always be on your side”. Good luck to you, Vincent!!! And to everyone else who is on the way!
So here we are, in Aktau
We were standing on the road in the middle of super modern city and were waiting for Aleksey. There he was: good looking, wearing his cool gear, driving awesome bike. He didn’t keep us waiting too long. But while we were expecting him Kazu san came up to me and asked with fright on his face: ”Marat san, I know you’ve booked a hotel for us, of course we can spend a night there, but for the next day maybe you could help us out to book a room in a good hotel? Don’t worry, we will cover that”. And I understood that this situation in Beyneu just got him and he wanted to be sure. I also understood that the group wasn’t complaining but they’ve commented. Eventually me and Kazu san, we both lost half of the face in front of them.)) To be honest I had no idea where Lesha was going to place us and of course I said yes. But Alex, as new group leader, led us to the sea and pointed to a brand new small hotel on the coast, which he booked for us. Almost empty hotel built for captains of seldom ships was like a paradise to us. The most important thing - it was so close to the fabulous beach andthe blue sea. Everyone was absolutely happy, got in their beds and needed nothing else.
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DAY 8. Aktau. " Nirvana"
I and Sergey were woken up by Alex a very late hour. Japanese went to the sea. We finally got enough of sleep and what is more important we didn't need to touch our dirty bikes. All we needed were shorts, flip-flops and Hawaii style shirt! We got up and went to the Caspian Sea. I was slowly coming up to it and couldn't believe myself that it is actually going to happen. I was waiting for this moment the whole week. I came up to warm, turquoise, clean water and just jumped in it. How was it? No, it is impossible to explain. It was..I would say: “imagine your the most intense orgasm ever, multiply it thousand times and you won’t still be able to understand it!” I was floating on the surface for hours, but I wanted this moment to last forever. It was unbelievable! I felt myself more than happy! We’ve made it! We finished the tour! The bikes were alright and everyone was safely back! The other thing didn't matter – details common for any adventure, base for my report.
God bless the Caspian sea
We had the whole day ahead. Lesha booked a water craft for us. As we found out, citizens of the Land of Rising Sun have never tried driving a personal water craft, which was actually made in Japan!!!)) Only Kazu san and Usui san were brave enough to test it. Their childish faces were so happy, so they looked like Pokemons. And after our Japanese decided to buy some black caviar, which here serves as good source of money. Some of the group members have never tried it. Me and Comandor got interested with this idea and we decided to give a can with caviar to every group member as the present for the accomplished tour. We asked Lesha to help us finding it. As any other local, who didn’t care about local delicatessens he said: ”I don’t even know, let’s go to the supermarket”. Well, actually it was logical that here black caviar should be in every single shop. Cans with caviar were carefully lined up on the shells topped with blue cover with sturgeon on it. This drawing reminded me carless childhood times.
One can coasted about 2 – 3 thousand tenge (about $20) in the supermarket. We were quite happy with such price as we had enough of money to present a can to every member and get one for ourselves. Lesha got a bit suspicious so as we did. Way too cheap.. – he said. We decided to call for a manager. He reassured us that it was good caviar. So we bought one can and tried it in order not to lose face again. We went outside with caviar in one hand and a baguette in another hand and started to test it. To be honest I forgot the real taste of black caviar, but what we got was some kind of shitty stuff.
Suddenly we’ve met Alex’s friend:
- Are you eating caviar there? Tough guys))
- Yep, bought it at the supermarket and decided to try
- You shouldn’t try that one)) you better go to..
So we went there. It was a tiny fish shop. Sellers proudly pulled out three cans of different sizes and announced the price. The smallest one with less than a teaspoon of caviar coasted $300, the middle one - $500 and half of kilogram coasted about a thousand bucks. And every can was followed with export permit. With these prices we had to forget about presents. As we came back we told everything to our Japanese. They started discussing something and then I could almost see as they all collectively had a greed attack, and even the most prosperous vice-president of Sega corporation couldn’t resist it.:hmmmmm:hmmmmm:hmmmmm
We had a good bye diner late in the evening, which turned to good bye open air party on the road.
And by the way, Japanese people can DRINK! They are drinking in any case. Not as much as we do of course, but still they can get pretty wasted. They don’t really need too much. They all are smoking and quite frequent, but it is still the country of long-livers. And more over they look twice younger. We were all drinking! And it was so much fun! Isui san was complaining about young generation, something like “when we were younger we used to drive our bikes every day and now they all do nothing but play video games”, - and it was said by the president of Sega corporation and everyone started to laugh at him because of that. I told about our motorbike culture. Kazu san as many others was surprised that unknown people from different cities, who are driving bikes, would voluntarily help you only because you are a biker too. You can stay at their place, eat their food and drink their
. Of course free of charge. “In Japan it is not like that”, - said the people, who produce the best motorcycles in the world. Sergey and Iri san started designing a motorbike – some super cool Honda! Comandor was quite wasted)).:freaky He had an opinion that this bike should be suitable for cross country and touristic tours. I don’t really know what Sergey told him, but Iri san promised that he is going to communicate his innovative ideas to the management of Honda corporation. And Iri san carefully put napkins with drawings they made into his pocket. And now I expect to see Honda “Comandor 666 cc” in shops.))) I don’t really remember how everyone left to their rooms. Me, Lesha and Comandor stayed a bit more and went to bed later.
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DAY 9. Aktau."Goodbye and coming back"
We went to the airport early in the morning, chatted for a while, hugged each other and said good luck to them. "See you later, guys and VERY BIG RESPECT TO YOU!!"
As for us, we needed to load our bikes. We decided to send the bikes over to Almaty. Lesha, who helped us with everything (starting from finding
to the shipment of bikes) supported us again – he organized transaction of the transportation. One call and 7 young guys with helmets in their hands appeared near our bikes. They brought it to the motor pool and sent it over. Thanks a lot, guys, Aktau! And ulken rakhmet (kazakh translation as Thank you VERY MUCH) to you, Aleksey Melchagov!!!
Me, guys from Aktau and Aleksey Melchagov (second from the right)
We decided to swim in this beautiful sea one more time and move on. We planned to go back the same way – through Uzbekistan, not Kazakhstan. It is shorter and much more interesting. The way back wasn’t that adventurous, but quite comfortable. This time I was a passenger and it was just beautiful. Driving – smoking, driving – drinking and driving – sleeping.
However there was a couple of memorable moments.
One of them happened when we stopped at uncle Lesha’s place. I got a call from my friend Askar from Almaty: “Me and my friend Nikolay are going from Almaty to Aktau over Kazakhstan. Now we are in Bozoi village near Aral sea. Tomorrow we want to head to Beineu, but Kolya put his leg out. We are going to try anyway. If we don’t arrive in a while, please take off and look for us”.
The last phrase started to bother me. I didn’t like it at all. We’ve been released from a huge responsibility and now we have it again and more over we had to be in Almaty on time to collect the bikes. I’ve tried to talk him out of this idea to follow the shortcut . Why don’t they go through Aktobe as all normal people do, since Kolya was wounded? I know that shortcut. Local people call that shortcut a “Death road”. Madmax told me about it, but I also heard about it from one officer, who served in Beyneu for a long time. I’m not trying to spice the things up, but there were many cars, soldiers and scouting forces lost in there, including helicopters. And no one could find them. And even if they could, there was nothing but shoes and bare bones.
If you get lost there, it will be easy to lose water and many many other things. As easy and simple as to get to the petrol station. Especially for people like us – people from Almaty, whose guide marks are the mountains. But there…there is no mountains…Ustyurt is not just mystical and beautiful. Ustyurt is ruthless in its beauty. After I went through this dreadful place I will not advise anyone to get there just for fun. At the end of our conversation with Askar I reassured him not use a shortcut. That’s what I thought…But later when we were going through Uzbekistan I got a message “We did it! We reached Beineu!” Those wild bastards actually MADE IT!
And another moment
When we left Nukus we decided to reach Samarkand without stops in Bukhara. Somehow after being apart from the society for such a long time I wanted to watch the final match of the football championship. So we tried to reach civilization as fast as we could. 800 kilometers were quite predictable, but bunch of border crossing posts and a car with vehicle numbers from Almaty could make some problems. Uzbek people do not like Kazakhs very much. But it all went smoothly and stars were on our sides. And we were more than precise. When we’ve just entered the hotel in Samarkand, the first thing that we heard from a TV set at the reception desk was a referee whistle meaning that the match had started. Just about the time!)))
Turned out, that officers at the border crossing points all the way back to Shymkent remembered us. For some reason they all were asking: “How did the motorbike racings go?” “Uzbeks won!” – we told to Uzbekistan officers in Uzbekistan. “Kazakhs won!” – to Kazakhstan ones. Officers were so glad and proud for their countries that they peacefully let us go.
We were back home pretty soon and I had to go to Pamir with another group. We came back in a while and I headed to Turkmenistan.
But it was another story.
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Thank you very much for your attention.
Best regards
Mara
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Another early report Mysteries of the Pamir
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