The journey to Kutaisi was not the most enjoyable. It was a main road full of cars and trucks but lots of places to stop and grab a coffee, or a bite to eat and have a quick chat with the locals. Kutaisi was a busy city. I was spending three nights there, the first in a hostel and the other two hosted by Paul from the US, an English teacher at the university. I discussed the problem of getting bike boxes and he mentioned other guests who had the same problem. The bike stores were all out. A solution was to visit the appliance stores and hope they had one. Eventually, I found one that did. A fridge freezer box.
In the evening we met with a couple of Paul’s friends to play Scrabble. It was disastrous for me; Scrabble is not a game for me. Not enough strategy. It was a fun evening all the same. My last day was used creating a box for the bike and trying to stay within the baggage limits. I failed!
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see much of Kutaisi with finding the box and preparing the bike for travel. But from the small bit I saw, it looks like a modern city with a cosmopolitan vibe. The following morning I caught a taxi to the airport, something that would usually be expensive but taxis in Georgia are cheap.
The gangs
Whilst at the airport I bumped into Dan who I met at Shromantic Gardens, the Workaway project in Georgia. Dan was living in Kazakhstan teaching reporters English, about our media and how we build a story. He was telling me about Kazakhstan and what to look out for, especially the 3,000 and the 5,000 Tenge gangs at the airport in Aktau. Both taxi gangs take you to the city centre but one is much cheaper and somehow the more expensive gang survives! However, with their matching blue tunics and charm, you can see how they got the marketing right.
I was building the bike in the airport and cycling into town, a journey of about two hours not including the bike building. Dan was waiting for his next flight and kindly bought me some tea whilst I put it together only to deal with a puncture and having to replace the front inner tube. It’s always the front! As I was about to leave, the 5,000 Tenge gang came down to our end of the airport to say goodbye and get a picture.
I started my cycle into town and I start getting beeped at a lot. At first, I thought I might be on the wrong side of the road. This was truly a British problem. They were, however, actually saying hello. Some stopped and welcomed me to Kazakhstan. I had heard mention about the kindness of Kazakhs and now I was starting to see it.
A chance meeting
On arriving in Aktau I had to find micro-district 30, Google Maps were no help. But I did have a GPS reference and once there I had to try and find a specific building. But whilst cycling around I chanced upon another cyclist and local who helped me and also offered for me to stay. His name was Vladimir and he was a member of the Aktau cycling club. We exchanged numbers and kept in touch.
My host Serizhan was also hosting Julia who I had met in Batumi and we had agreed to cycle together through the desert region coming up. He was very kind and helpful and his nephew, Ismail, helped us when needed and spoke good English. The next couple of days were spent collecting spares, gas and trying to find a way of making my saddle a little more comfortable.
Nowruz
On the second day of Nowruz, Kazakhstan’s new year festival, we were invited by Vladimir to join the cycling club in their annual outing to the coast. We met Vladimir and headed to the coast via the promenade where the main festivities were taking place. Julia and I decided we wanted to go back there afterwards. On the way to the coast, we met up with other members of the club and cycled in a pack to the coast. Another member had brought a local boiler for the tea. The fire is held internally within the device to heat the water which is held around the fire. It was a fun morning getting to meet club members and enjoying tea with them.
Just after lunch, we set off back to Aktau and Julia and I with two members took us to the promenade where the main festival is. The festival had several traditional yurts all sponsored by a local company. Unfortunately, we arrived late and only got to see briefly inside one and a few being dismantled. There was a show of local dancing and singing groups, all children. Plus lots of food was being prepared; however, we were struggling with the lack of a queuing system. Luckily a local stepped into to help us secure some food!
Towards the end we came across a stall selling, what we thought was camel’s milk, and went in for a cup. However, a kind local person bought a whole litre and gave it to us. The stall owner also gave us some homemade cookies as well. Hospitality is strong within Kazakhs. The milk turned out to be soured milk rather than camel milk. Not quite the taste we were expecting.
The road to Zhanaozen
We finally set off; it was going to be three days of riding to Zhanaozen with a stop at a ‘nature reserve’ on the way. It was an old ocean with the lowest point of 132m below sea level. Towards the end of the day, we also discovered the winds of these plains. They get ferocious as we discover the next day. We had planned food for breakfast and evening but nothing for lunch. We assumed there would be places to get this along the road. This is not the case and along with the winds, makes for a tough day. On more than one occasion I found myself cursing the wind, words which cannot be repeated here!
We eventually came across a petrol station and took refuge for a couple of hours whilst we grabbed some food and had coffee. Re-stocked our water supplies and generally rested. We only had about 60km to Zhanaozen, but decided to make it the next day and find somewhere to rest after about 10km. We also went without cooking food in the evening, we were just too tired.
On the final day, we had high hopes knowing we only had 50km. We came crashing to Earth when we realised it would take us 5 hours due to the wind. Low on water and food and we soon discovered there was nothing on route for the whole 50km. We only had two peppers and 6 biscuits. I now regret not cooking food the night before. We pushed on.
Julia needed a longer rest with about 5km to go; I continued and made it to a petrol station on the edge of town. Julia eventually joined me. The station manager on realising our predicament gave us both some iced tea and chocolate. This was after the big bottle of Fanta I bought and as many sweets as I could fit in my hand. I had also been in contact with our host for the evening, Zhanibek, a friend of Vladimir and his partner, Aliya. We headed there tired but happy we made it.