Posts from — August 2008

daily distance: 120km
total distance: 8673km
riding time: 9h

If you wonder about the Superman reference, please be patient. I shall explain. You will get to meet him.

I got up at 5am and moved out. Tested the wind beforehand. Yes, it’s still there. Darn. The first 20km were great though. I was riding before sunrise, Haendel’s Sarabande was in my ear phones as the sun went up (perfect shuffle effect there) and things seemed to be moving quite well.

Then the wind came back. It had died down over night, but came back with a vengeance. It was ghastly. It was right in my face, moving about 30 degrees, 15 one way, 15 the other. It didn’t take away the beauty of the first part, but put a damper on the second. It seemed to be full out war. I knew that I was getting into some serious territory, had expected heat and other nuisances and was quite apprehensive about it all. This wind was something different. Always in your face. Always. Compartmentalizing the distance was one way to go, but it only gets you so far when you don’t seem to be moving at all.

I was lucky though as Superman showed up. I was just thinking that it would be great to have superpowers and blow the wind away. Here he is …

I had seen a slow truck approaching from behind me as I was on good roads. Tried to draft and got right behind it. It worked quite well - as a matter of fact, it worked like a charm. Here is Superman now … forget that you ever thought he was red and blue, his colors are actually yellow and blue. It was pure delight - I just had to be careful not to slip out of the draft. If I did, I would have had little chance of catching up.

Superman needed to take a break and I moved on on my own. After some more grueling kms, the first station. A terrible place. What do people do here? 

Some stand at the side of the side of the road, selling yoghurt, mostly kids … Not a fun place to be in the middle of the heat.

The lady in the Kafe was unfriendly. She overcharged by a triple and I moved on without buying anything. I guess the market sort of works here too. Another 15kms of extremely terrible road and I reached a checkpoint. What do you have that for? People won’t escape into this desert - you better not. Superman had overtaken me again, but this time I had no chance of getting behind. I realized his approach a little on the late side with the wind in my face and when he was beside me, it was too late to try to play catch up. I gave it a shot until my legs burned, but he moved away from me inch by inch. It was heart-breaking. You’re in the wind and you are sure that you are beaten like a dog (and have been), there is your savior for the moment and he moves off. It wouldn’t have done much good, the road on this stretch looked like this for the most part and I would have just ruined my bike without seeing where to go.

I gave in - the checkpoint came and went. It was 60km to the next station and I wasn’t sure how to get there in this kind of wind. I moved on and … saw Superman again. He had to take another rest and I spoke to the two drivers again, telling them that I would be trying to stay behind them. They laughed about this and said that I couldn’t, but that I should try. And so I did. I put some bread within reach and stayed behind the rig for over two hours. The speed was somewhere between 20km/h and 27km/h, which I could do. The only problem was that I could not see anything and that I was constantly expecting running into a pothole. There was a little hole in the center that allowed me to see the next 8m or so, not much of a warning though. And with the wind coming from the left front, there were gusts that were catching me all the time, but somehow I stayed behind Superman for over 50km until we reached the Kafe. Superman was my savior indeed - not sure how that day would have shaped up without him (the following pictures has some notes, click on it and hover your mouse over it and you’ll get some explanation).

By the time we reached the Kafe, it was 2pm and I was shot. It was getting hot and oppressively so. It was time to take a break. I ate something with the two drivers and stayed behind as they moved further towards Turkmenabad. The wind was picking up during the afternoon and all I could do was to stay where I was.

The owner was really interested in my mp3 player and sure enough wanted to listen to what was coming up - Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” seemed to be a good one …

In the end, I wanted to give it a try and got out again. What a dumb idea. The ride was one of the worst ever. The sand coming at me like snakes again, I couldn’t see much as it was flying higher this time and with even more force. The whole sky was clear, but along the ground the sand was just like pinpricks. Not a whole lot of fun. I did this for about 5km and wanted to ditch things. But there wasn’t anything to ditch the bike at. It was just shrubs and sand. I decided that I would stop at the next possible stop, something had to be there. And then, I saw a construction trailer. I was received warmly, the guy manning it served me tea and we shared our cookies. The rest of the people working constrution here in the desert were to come later on and so we waited around for a while, sharing stories abotu this and that. He explained the whole road to Samarkand to me, including altitude changes and distances (and was right for the most part in hindsight).

The rest of the crew came just before nightfall, the stranger being the talk for the evening. But soon after having dinner, we all crawled into bed and over my protest I was given the boss’s bunk, which was in a two-person compartment, the remaining 10 people sharing the other room in the trailer. 

I am glad I pulled through in the end and it was a good ride after all … thanks to Superman and the people of the construction crew.

daily distance: 114km
total distance: 8553km
riding time: 6-7h 

I set out from the barn early morning just as the sun came up over the horizon.

It was pure beauty … and it should remain OK until I reached Mary. I was a bit low on water, but could replenish easy enough there and took a look around before heading on. It was well worth it, leaving this aside and not taking it as a bad omen.

The city is nothing much to look at, but it was the people on the market that interested me the most. Take a look for yourself at colorful dresses and big smiles …

Bananas were welcome food for the treck into the desert. I left the watermelons where they were, too unwieldy and I should have some later on regardless.

And of course there were statutes of Turkmenbashi - the deceased “Father of all Turkmens”. They are all over the country, mainly of gold or something resembling it and appealing to no senses, but making him the true ueber-father of all things Turkmen.

You may wonder whether I didn’t visit the site that everyone would have expected me to visit, namely Merv - at one point the most populated city on earth. I didn’t. Given that I wanted to use the winds at the time (slightly pushing me), the heat and the distance from the city, I decided against it and left with a full load of water (well over 10l, some of it bought here).

Plus, I didn’t want to run into a time issue on the visa that was short as it was. Getting stuck in the desert would cost me time and if I had done Merv, it might have taken that precious time away. Let’s call it being risk-averse on that front. A Turkmen prison doesn’t sound very appealing. So, after some looking around, I moved on. It was now 11 am, usually the time to ditch the bike, put your feet up and hang loose for a few hours. But the wind was doing its work and I wanted to make use of it. And on the way I was accompanied by many people and other creatures …

Again, it sort of worked for a couple of hours. And then it didn’t any longer. Just as I was passing from the rather fertile oasis belt into the desert, the wind started to move as well. It was now full blast from the front and nowhere to duck behind. It’s a funny feeling. You want to move ahead, but you can’t. There is this force that - despite hard work from your legs - won’t let you move forward.

And then, there is this other strange thing … human interaction. I pedal along, try to orient myself in the landscape that no longer has any trees to offer ahead of me and where the grass is visibly thinning out. A head pops up to my right. It is hot at this point, over 50C and no shadow in sight. The head yells something. I am not very interested. Just want to move on. The head yells again. He is fully covered, I am in shorts and a T. He yanks a melon over his head - asks me whether I want to share it. Chodedad simply saw me coming and figured that it would be a good idea to share his melon with the stranger.

He tells me that he is Baloch (which I am not sure about as I thought they lived in Southern Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan; but I was to meet more people with the same background some time later) and we hang out for a while. For lack of another spot it is the middle of the road (well, off to the side a bit) and when we’re done we bid our farewells. This completely floored me … in a very pleasant way. And then nature takes over in its ever-efficient manner. Here is an ant carrying a much larger than itself watermelon seed.

That same pleasantness I witnessed again a few hours later. I was still cycling in the heat. There was nowhere to take shelter and I wanted nothing but to get out of this mess. Everything that could have worked was locked behind some fences. The wind came from the front blowing sand in my face and my eyes, which started to sting. Then, a small hut - well, a straw mat over to poles with a bunch of people behind it selling watermelon. More of that yummy stuff was offered, but I was still laboring on the other one that I had an hour before. The people tell me that it’s 5km to the next Kafe, which I am trying to put behind me ASAP. No sooner do I arrive when all around me all hell breaks loose. The wind I was facing before was child’s play compared to what was going on now. Luckily the place was well sheltered and after getting rid of some wholly annoying (and drunk) person, I was able to come down a bit. Then three Turkmen show up and we have a great chat for some hours until they take off through the desert to go back home. The fish at the Kafe is excellent and time goes by quickly.

I hear that there’s another Kafe 2km down the road and the wind having died down, I thought I would give that one a shot as well. What a fluke. As soon as I was in the wind, it was over. I didn’t stand a chance. Not even close. It took me 15 minutes to get there, biking hard, trying not to be blow off the road. When I got there, I was exhausted. I decided to call it a day there and then. The owners pack me into their place and give me tea and cookies and pretty much invite me in for the night. This is at 4pm - and they knew the wind wasn’t going to let off. I had some hope still and wanted to move on, but there was no chance that day any more.

Dida, the son of the owner, and I cook some dinner later on - have some more fish and pelmeni (a type of Russian-influenced Ravioli) and in the end, I sleep in the same room that the restaurant is in (so do Dida and his father). Thanks to both of them for putting up with me - they were amazing.

And I wasn’t the only one who was stranded there ever …

Tomorrow you will read about Superman, he is a bit different from what you imagine him to be …

daily distance: 132km
total distance: 8439km
riding time: 8h

So I am leaving Sarakhs and thus Iran. I will have to do some more writing about my impressions of Iran at some later point. The wind is in my back, though not for long. The whole day was a wind battle and I was almost beaten into submission. It was not pretty, I am shot and don’t like the whole thing right now. But things are looking up. Somehow. Somewhere. Sometime.

The border is almost a no-brainer. Except for the lone immigration officer who keeps looking at my visa. Then at my passport picture. Then at me. Back where he started. He does this - I am not joking - 10 times or so. I keep smiling sort of. Then he pulls out a book with the signatures of consuls I gather and compares my extension with what he sees. Something wrong? Shouldn’t be. Frau Lotfi seemed certain. Almost at the end he sees something that satisfies him. He does the tour again a couple of times. Then I am done with him. The customs guy I can convince not to bring the bike inside and can leave without a hitch.

I cross the bridge and I am in … Turkmenistan (I will put a film about it up as well …).

What a difference. The air-conditioned buildings in Iran are replaced by baracks of Soviet lore. The windows are low and small, you have to bow much deeper. It is also a lot less formal. The first checkpoint. Book number 1. All data is being logged. I pedal some 2km and get to the actual border station. Medical exam. Book number 2. Do I have any diseases? No. Book is closed. Thank you very much. Then a long wait. I seem to be the first person today. More waiting. Then I am allowed in. I have to pay more money, $10 for entering and $3 for having those $10 exchanged. I protest a bit, but this is of course not leading anywhere. It is also silly to charge more money when you enter. Slap it onto the visa bill for crying out loud. What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten the dollars back I wonder.

Then everything is checked, forms filled out twice, the head-honcho and only he turns the key and the low hum of an x-ray machine starts going. After everything is checked again and again, I am off to the races. But wait. A woman is in charge. What? A woman? And she is not wearing a chador!!! You can actually see some body shape. For someone who has been to Iran for too long this actually is a reminder of how things normally are. Back in the normal world. In the meantime books 3 and 4 have been filled. Book 5 follows when leaving the border area. Then I am there. 

It is hot now, the wind is blowing strongly in my face and I have no choice but to move on. After some 90km I am done and exhausted. It is brutally warm and I decide to take a long break. I have seen camels and Chinese train engines, bad roads and more women doing what women usually do where I am from (meaning work and regular dresses - though slightly more colorful generally speaking).

Moving on, I stop again after some 20km and am very warmly welcomed by the cafe owner. He brings soup and salad and drinks right away … I am hungry actually and he hears of no payment in the end. I insist. Instead he invites me to stay. Tempting, but I move on some more and try to cover mileage. But check out the writing on the sign on the picture below.

I end up in a barn with a farm hand. The owner has no problem with me staying and we have some dinner together (it is soup again, the same type of soup, thin and without much taste; it strikes me as being quite cheap also and the emacicated figure of the boy speaks volumes).

Will move to on to Mary tomorrow and then beyond, trying to cover the country as quickly as I can. So far, so good. Desert still to come.

daily distance: 65km
total distance: 8307km
riding time: 4h

I left Shuraq early, hoping that the wind would not be as strong. It worked … for the first 15 minutes or so. Soon enough, the wind was blowing in my face again. Seems to happen quite often when I leave a country. Same deal as in Turkey …

After a few long hours battling the wind I finally make it to Sarakhs where everything is pretty much the way things are in border towns. It is lively and happening … and then shuts down at 2pm. This is the last chance for internet uploading so I convince the internet cafe owner to let the upload of the pictures go ahead during the afternoon break. No problem. Great.

Kids pester me throughout the afternoon, people creep me out in a park and I eventually turn back to the internet cafe. No place to sleep yet. I spend a few hours there, many more than I wanted to and Siavash, the owner asks me where I plan to sleep tonight. I meant to go to a small hotel. He says no, invites me to his home and so off we are. The bike stays in the internet cafe and we have a good time with a bunch of his friends. Great ending to the hospitality I received so many times in Iran.

I have also been told that the police have found the second person, the guy from Esfahan. They have locked him up, he claims to have sold the money for a ridiculously small amount. The police have informed his family to bring the money by or he will stay where he is. Not sure what to make of it all, but hey …

daily distance: 110km
total distance: 8242km
riding time: don’t ask - too long

It was a bit of an early morning … people wake up earlier here. We had breakfast, the neighbors bringing over food as they had done the previous night after feeding us all over the place to start with. It was a very moving show of appreciation with the foreigner and in their eyes filling the need to make up for the bad done to him in their town (no such need really seen from my perspective). The communal feelings certainly run much higher than they would anywhere else I have been so far.

The police was to come … but they never showed up. First it was about finding someone that could serve as my representative if the money were to turn up. It hadn’t, so I called Reza who will take care of things from now on. I am writing the money off basically. The stupidity budget is pretty much empty now though. While waiting for the police I found out that they were to escort me to the border. That was not going to happen so after some time I made my way out. Not without playing some ping-pong with Sayid and a picture with the very helpful people at the municipality of Razaviyeh.

The wind which had been coming from the right direction before had made a U-turn by the time I headed out. It was also hot. And so I biked into a ferocious wind after bidding farewell from everyone, but especially from Sayid who had made the time very much bearable.

The wind was beating me pretty good. Every time I turned, the wind turned with me - it was brutal. No fun and one of those days during which you ask yourself why you are doing this to start with. I did. More than once. Actually quite constantly.

I wasn’t sure whether to head over the pass, but made a run for it, knowing I would cut it close to reach the next town before nightfall.

The wind was still in my face on the other side and progress was slow. The landscape dramatic, it could have been great riding except for the wind and the road, which was treacherous for the most part. Broken asphalt everywhere, gliding along not an option.

Towards the end the light became a bit critical. The wind no longer a factor as it grew dark, I was able to increase speed, having to climb a few times still. Not sure where I would end up, I was flying blindly pretty much. And it was getting really dark now. A bit of a race against time. Then, it happened … for the first time in Iran a car was not overtaking, but stayed behind me, signaling me to go ahead, they would cover my rear. This was heaven, couldn’t have been better. I beat the last bit out of me and arrived in Shuraq when it was positively dark. Wow - what a day.

As soon as I arrived an old man asked whether I needed a place to sleep. I had to catch my breath, having hardly a chance to thank the car that gave me company over the last 7 or 8 km. They were off quickly, hearing none of the thanks. The old man led me to his house and we had a fun dinner. Again, slept quickly and very deep.