Ill in Shalkar - Vidazorb to the Rescue

Wednesday April 27th

The last couple of days to Shalkar have been increasingly sandy, but for the last twenty kilometres there was a rocky road through the dunes - slow going but better than sand which would have been tough on the horses and impassable for the truck.

Unfortunately Bolashak has been very off colour, seems depressed, and is going slower and slower - we do not know if he is ill, or not coping with the work load. Rowena was reduced to Shank's pony for the last couple of days - leading him to conserve his energy. As she is taking the train home from Shalkar, we have decided to leave him in Shalkar to rest while I ride on to Embi. Baurzhan can then return to fetch him in the truck.

We have been very fortunate to find a place to keep the horses here with Zhanar's sister Bazargul. Here is Bolashak in his quarters for the next few days with bovine companion. Today Bazargul treated us all to a traditional Kazakh beshbarmak. As the local English teacher, she has been most welcoming.

This was a vast improvement on the shashlik I ate last night at a local restaurant, which resulted in my spending the rest of the evening running back and forth emptying my guts in the long drop loo outside our hotel. However before the effects of the shashlik took hold, the evening was considerably enlivened for me at least by a somewhat inebriated aging lothario who repeatedly visited our table to declare his undying passion for Rowena, who seems to hold a fatal attraction for Kazakh men of mature years. No matter that she protested that she had a husband at home that she loved, we were treated to a graphic mime display to indicate that he would hang himself if she did not hand over her mobile phone number pronto.
This morning I was still feeling queasy, so it did not take much to decide to take a day off rather than set out for Embi. Although considering how ill I felt I have made a surprisingly quick recovery, which I can only put down to the Vidazorb probiotics I have been taking.
We have been staying here in a small hotel which has the luxury of a bathroom. However the pathetic trickle which passes for a shower is alternately scalding hot or freezing cold, and my ablutions were disturbed by banging on the door and the light being switched off. At times like this a bowl in a tent seems almost preferable.

Oil Road

April 24th . After leaving Aralsk on April 20th, we intended to follow the track along the railway line northwards. However we had a concern about sand covering the route which we had been warned about, particularly nearing the town of Shalkar. Deep sand would merely be tough going for the horses, but could result in the truck becoming stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Arriving at the next town of Saksaul in a dust storm on the second day, Baurzhan got talking to a local lad who told us about an oil pipeline running roughly parallel to the railway with a good earth service track alongside.

So that is what we have been following for the last few days. It has taken us across wild rolling steppe with the occasional low line of hills.

The pipeline is buried so there is nothing to spoil the scenery except the occasional kilometre marker with the distance marked in large characters facing skyward, presumably for the benefit of helicopter patrols.

The track is strictly only open to pipeline officials and local traffic, but Baurzhan soon made firm friends with the pipeline security guards in their patrol jeeps - they were all were most intrigued and eager to help.

At regular intervals we encounter small herds of horses guarded by wiry steppe stallions who invariably gallop over to inspect us, but are usually easily shooed away. We put Bolashak behind Zorbee just in case his male ego gets too much for him.

 The situation is reversed when we come across camels, when I am glad Zorbee can hide behind Bolashak.

Baby camels with little coats on!

A typical steppe camp with passing visitor.

There are also occasional flocks of multicoloured sheep and goats grazing the steppe, always with attendant herder - here is herder's horse with three legged hobbles, outside one of the little railway villages we occasionally encounter.

The BOLASHAK Pony

I am delighted to report that the Kazakhstan based personel company BOLASHAK http://www.bolashak.com/ have generously agreed to sponsor a second horse in Kazakhstan to join Zorbee. We are very much indebted to them for their support, and the horse (or rather pony in this case) will be named Bolashak in honour of the company. Zorbee is of course sponsored by the wonderful probiotics company VIDAZORB. http://www.vidazorb.com/

Rowena has already purchased a suitable candidate for the new Bolashak, already nicknamed Bolly. Perhaps he will merit the cracking open of a bottle of the other type of Bolly when we officially cross into Europe over the Ural river in Atyrau. He is seen above in sub zero training for the rigours ahead with boy groom. He may not be the most beauteous of equines, but handsome is as handsome does, and as long as he is tough, goodnatured and can walk westwards, who cares!

I notice from the photo that he is already sporting one of the saddles provided by our other main sponsors Free and Easy saddles http://www.fnesaddles.com/.

Over the last few months we have experienced a lot of trouble sorting out registration problems with my Lada. This was due to the fact that foreigners are not in fact permitted to own Kazakhstan registered cars, and 'ownership' only involves the legal right to use and sell a vehicle. The registered owners who 'sold' the Lada had unbeknown to me (as my Russian is limited) asked the lawyer to include an extra clause apparently to protect them from any problems arising while I was in possession of the car. However this also seriously effected my legal rights to the vehicle and created considerable problems, particularly as the registered owners were subsequently extremely obstructive about altering the paperwork. Happily, thanks to the sterling efforts of Shaun Weaver and Ed in Atyrau, to whom I am eternally grateful, it has all been sorted at last, and we are now in a position to trade the Lada in for a more suitable 4WD truck to tackle the Hunger steppe of Kazakhstan.

I have booked my flight from Amsterdam to Atyrau for March 30th. I plan to travel round to Kyzlorda in the truck while Rowena accompanies Bolashak on the train - we felt it might be a bit of a strain for him to endure 4-5 days journey by truck over rough roads. We hope to start riding sometime in the the first week of April, all being well!

Braving the potholes

It is some time since I wrote on my blog, and I will attempt to bring it up to date!
After reaching Kyzlorda at the end of October, and settling Zorbee in his winter home, I drove to Atyrau to catch my flight home. This was about another 1000miles/3 days drive, and I was very glad to have the company of cousin Rowena, who lives in Atyrau but came down on the train to join up with me.
The first part of the drive was along the new M3 to Aktobe, which is part of the planned trans Asia expressway system - as you can see, it is pretty whizzy - but unfortunately stretches like this do not last for long .......

....and it is soon back to the earth tracks running parallel to the road under construction.

It gradually became clear that the jeep was suffering some sort of radiator problem, but we fortuitously came across a water truck which enabled us to replenish the water. The truck driver is evidently most amused by our antics - the Kazakhs are used to expatriot oil men roaring past in brand new BMW or Suzuki 4x4s, and found the concept of two unaccompanied foreign ladies of a certain age tootling across the steppe in a clapped out Lada eccentric to say the least.

We plugged on for another couple of hundred miles to the next small one horse town in the middle of nowhere, where we managed to track down a back street garage. The mechanics below sorted out the problem while we resisted offers of betrothal to the one eyed Romeo on the right - they did not seem too concerned that we already had husbands. But he made an impressive job of personally blowing out the air lock which was causing the trouble.

On the third day we followed the A340 from the bright lights of modern Aktobe to the bustling oil city of Atyrau. One would imagine that there would be a fast and well maintained expressway linking two such major Kazakhstan urban centres, but we were soon to discover otherwise. For over 200 miles we were unable to drive faster than 20mph, the reasons being obvious if you look at the photos below. The potholes could easily swallow a small juggernaut and it was a toss up whether to drive around or through them. You may be wondering why the Lada lights are on - in Kazakhstan it is illegal to drive outside towns without headlights even during the day. Not such a bad idea when you see the speed at which traffic travels along narrow and bumpy roads. Not that there was much traffic here.

The alternative (if it is not during the thaw) is to drive along the maze of earth tracks at the side.

A desolate view looking west along the A340 to Atyrau as dusk starts to fall. With the Lada playing up and the night temperatures below freezing, it was not an occasion when one wanted to break down, but at least we were equipped with tents and sleeping bags if the worst had come to the worst.

Donkey Work

I often dismount and lead Zorbee to give both of us a change and a rest. In Asia people can never comprehend why one would possibly want to walk on foot when one has a perfectly good horse to ride, and as a result I often get strange looks - although of course this may be for other reasons!

For my part I can never understand how very large men can possibly be comfortable riding on very small donkeys, when they are in possession of perfectly good legs which nearly reach the ground in any case - and if they have a donkey they will not walk even a step.

Above - herdsman Talgat who invited me to join him for chai near Shayan.

As in many other parts of the world, donkeys are expected to work like, well, donkeys. The photo above gives a new meaning to the phrase 'Ride and Drive' and is a fairly common sight though usually not with such a lump on board.

Surely it would be easier just to pull the cart oneself?

This self possessed little boy was better suited to his mount than some ofthe examples above. He must have only been about 6 years old, but armed with plastic bag on stick, he was in sole charge of a large flock of about 200 sheep and goats.

Seeing Sauran

Tuesday 5th October

On our day off in Turkestan I was eager to visit the ancient ruined oasis city of Otrar, which lies about 50 miles to the south. In 1217 it was the somewhat ill considered decision of its governor Inalchuk to arrest merchants sent by Genghis Khan on spying charges, the situation being exacerbated when they were subsequently put to death - not good thinking. This suidical action precipitated Genghis Khan's swift conquest of the lands of the Korezmshahs which included this southern area of present day Kazakhstan - Inalchuk was executed and Otrar razed to the ground. Having recovered from this setback, it later achieved notoriety as the place where Timur died of fever.
But unfortunately due to our other activities we did not have time to make the 100 mile round trip there.

So after a day's riding across the flat desert steppe land of the Syr Darya valley it was a great excitement to see the crumbling walls of the old Silk Road city of Sauran rising up in the distance. Sauran escaped the fate of Otrar by wisely surrendering to the forces of Genghis Khan without resistance. At one point it was the largest city in the area that is now Kazakhstan, but with the rising prominence of Turkestan it was virtually abandoned by the 18th century.

It is now crawling with archaeologists excavating and developing the site. Restoration includes the controversial method of using new materials for partial reconstruction, as you can clearly see with these steps up to a madrassah at the centre of the site.

Apart from the madrassah, they are currently working on the remains of a mosque, which can be seen in the middle distance in the photo below. The city walls are on the horizon.

The workforce are a cheerful and friendly bunch and even invited me to join them for lunch. One of them is perusing a copy of my consulate letter on the right - I find it indispensable for quickly explaining who I am and what I am up to!

Food Glorious Food

Wednesday 29th September

As well as pot noodles, our diet while camping has largely consisted of sausage and increasingly stale nan bread. This has occasionally been relieved by a visit to an all too rare roadside eating establishment, and on crossing the Karatau mountains and reaching relative civilisation, we were looking forward to the possibility of a decent meal. Thus it was with a sense of eager anticipation that we arrived at the wild west town of Cheyenne, or Shayan in its Kazakh incarnation, which boasted this imposing gateway as evidence of its supposed status.

In China any self-respecting town of this size would contain at least several dozen well patronised eating places. So Bakhram bounced off happily to scout for one, but returned to report woefully that he had only found one cafe and it had run out of food. That is Kazakhstan for you. Heigh ho. So it was back to the local shop to stock up on sausage and bread again - although at least the bread was fresh.
However after several hours riding across the steppe the following day ......

 

.......we were rewarded when we reached the main Shymkent-Turkestan road to find this delightful little restaurant, where Zorbee polished off half a bale of hay while we tucked into shashlik and laghman, with a pile of nan and a big pot of milky tea.

My husband enjoys his meals, and is continually pestering me as to what the food is like in Kazakhstan, so for his benefit and yours, here is a very brief pictorial guide to the main elements of Kazakh cuisine.

Laghman is a dish of spicy meat and vegetables served on a bed of noodles. You cannot see the noodles under the topping in the photo above, which also shows the plate of bread and teapot of milky tea which is commonly served with meals.

Shashlik - barbecued meat on skewers.

Manti - steamed dumplings filled with spiced lamb or beef, rather like large ravioli. Pelmeni are a smaller version like Chinese steamed dumplings.

Plov - a rice based dish cooked with meat, carrot and onion. It may also contain raisins.

This is plov being cooked up on a street brazier.

Snakebite

Thursday 23rd September.

I have reached Taraz, having covered five hundred miles across Kazakhstan. We are all enjoying a day off, Zorbee in a cowshed on the edge of town, Bakhram and I at the Taraz hotel where we can avail ourselves of a hot shower and wash all our smelly clothes, though in the tradition of all rundown ex Soviet hotels, the bathroom does not have plug, cistern cover or loo paper.
The riding over the last few days has been quite scenic with the reappearance of the snow-capped Zailisky mountains to the south. We will soon be leaving the Tian Shan and its outlying spurs for good, so here is a final reminder .

A beautiful morning

By the Zailisky mountains
Flying mountain top - it is above the first layer of cloud.

On Tuesday we took the back road to the peaceful and little-visited ruin of Akyrtas, although as the site is being developed with a museum and hotel, that may not hold true for much longer. It is still a mystery exactly what these ancient ruins are - possibly a caravanserai or Nestorian monastery - the archaeologists are still researching and debating. As it appears to have been abandoned before building was complete, it holds few clues to its real purpose. Here I am with one of the retainers who was most surprised to have a visitor on horseback bound for London, and even took a photo of me.
No visit to Taraz is complete without a visit to the Aisha Bibi Mausoleum, which stands as a salutary warning against the dangers of snakebite. This lovely mausoleum set among red rose bushes was erected by Shakhmahmud, Governor of Taraz, for his lover Aisha, who ran away to join him but was tragically bitten by a snake en route and died at this spot.
I have in fact seen three snakes of various sizes since I have been in Kazakhstan, but happily they have all been focused on a rapid exit stage left.

Transiting the Zone.

Friday 17th September

For 21 kms, the main Almaty to Shymkent road actually runs along the Kazkahstan/Kyrgyzstan border. In the past this has presented no great problem, but since the troubles in Kyrgyzstan this year, the Kazakhstani powers that be have thought fit to erect a huge fence of coiled barbed wire along the boundary. This would be OK except it is on the Kazakhstan side of the road, so that if you are travelling along this section of road you are effectively trapped on the Kyrgyzstan side. And they have designated it a no-stopping ‘transit zone’.

Again OK if you are in a car, but a little more complicated if you are on four legged transport and find yourself in the zone with dark falling.

This situation was partly caused by the fact that I was stopped and interrogated by every eager little Kazakhstan soldier who popped up at regular intervals along the border (are they seriously expecting a Kyrgyz invasion?) and held up for over half an hour at a watch tower. This was while traffic sped past unmolested. But I suppose I have to accept that until the invasion occurs they must lead a rather uneventful life and I am the best entertainment they have had in weeks.
In such circumstances it was inevitable that we ended up camping in the transit zone and ignoring military requests for us to move on. The last time I read by torchlight under the covers it was not to avoid the attentions of the Kazakhstan army!

We are now ensconced in a field of akfalfa near Merke, courtesy of Ukrainian bee keeper Anatoly, who also kept an eye on Zorbee while Bakhram and I went off to purchase much needed victuals and a bottle of vodka to share with our host before he joined us for a bonnet buffet.

Here is one of the big ‘bee wagons’ which can house thousands of bees in the stacked bee boxes which make up the sides. This one was surrounded by a throng of little birds swooping around a making a meal of bees - very pretty pale-coloured things, but not so popular with the beekeepers. I don’t know what they were, but they were called something like ‘schuur’ in Russian. Anyone know?

The beekeepers sell the honey in large pots at the side of the road.

Watching Over Us

Wednesday 15th September

Someone must be watching over us, as when the Lada broke down on Sunday, it was within a hundred yards of one of the few garages for miles around, and thankfully not negotiating the very rough and isolated track through the rugged mountains.
Added to which it snowed in the mountains only the day after we came down. Broken down and snowed in in the middle of nowhere would have made continuing somewhat difficult if not impossible. So I was surprisingly cheerful about the afternoon delay while the mechanics sorted the problem out.

We have also warranted a police escort for a couple of days, as the Kordai district Tourism office were concerned about ‘bad people‘ along the road. Here is a stout member of our police retinue guarding Zorbee while Bakhram and I take advantage of our new VIP status and stroll off for a spot of lunch and shopping in Kordai. As you can see, officials in Kazakhstan have hats large enough to hold a small police convention on.
And here they are poring over our route maps with Bakhram. The plain clothes policeman guarded us overnight in his car ….
…and also showed us the best roadside restaurant for a shashlik lunch.

The High Road to Kyrgyzstan

Saturday 11th September To avoid a long boring tramp along the high road, we have taken a short cut over a spur of the Zailisky mountains. This was a beautiful route along a very rough track through some stunning scenery.
An idyllic campsite with plenty of fresh if rather cold water to wash in!

Isolated yurts.

The only downside was that this route brought us inconveniently close to the Kyrgyzstan border, and we had a worrying few moments early on when we reached a Kazakhstan military checkpoint and thought we would be turned back. But our consulate letter seemed to do the trick and thankfully we were waved on.
But the next day we took a wrong turning, and if it had not been for the advice of a local herder, would have found ourselves on the wrong side of the border in Kyrgyzstan. Not such a problem for Bakhram, who is from Kyrgyzstan, but it could have been uncomfortable for me if I had been discovered there without a visa.

Which way to go?
I never knew Sancho Panchez had made it to Kazakhstan.

Coming down the other side to Embe .....