Yolanda Joins Us

Wednesday May 4th

I have been joined by South African mother of two Yolanda for the next couple of weeks. She is riding Bolashak, who seems perkier, although hardly raring to go. Here they are crossing the railway line on the way out of Embi ..

..and setting out across the steppe.

The first night we camped at an idyllic spot by a little lake thronged with birds who kept up a beautiful cacaphony of sound as the sun went down. I am not an expert on the birds of Kazakhstan, but I thought I could hear curlews, larks and hoopoe, as well as the first cuckoo of spring. Unlike China, the Kazakhstan steppe teems with birdlife, including eagles and a funny little plump clockwork like bird which hovers and clicks and has a wide repertoire of calls - Rowena swore she heard it imitating a horse whinnying.

Yolanda has a quick snooze.

A Kazakh Kermit eyeballs Zorbee. Frogs are common along the rivers and can make quite a noise croaking both day and night.

Shalkar to Embi

Monday May 2nd

After seeing Rowena off on the train on Wednesday evening, we set off the following morning for Embi, leaving Bolashak at Bazargul's to rest. Zorbee and I made faster progress over the next five days, following a (relatively) good road across the steppe and over a low ridge of hills to Embi.

More Pointless signs!

Now Rowena has left us, Bauzhan has taken over the role of camp cook. Here he is concocting a tasty evening meal on the day of the Royal wedding, with Zorbee grazing happily in the background. We toasted the happy couple in vodka and orange in the middle of the empty steppe as the sun set over the horizon

The next morning I came across this cheerful truckload of children on a school outing. They were very excited to meet up with a foreign traveller on horseback!

Bauzhan trying to emulate the Statue of Liberty? No - trying to get reception on his mobile phoone, no doubt to chat to one of his stable of girlfriends

Riding down the other side of the hill ridge towards Embi....

Embi is a small railway town with traditional housing centred round an open square surrounded by little shops and a bazaar. I am staying in a government workers hostel which passes for the local hotel, and have a room with two squeaky beds and an electric point so I can charge up my laptop. My eagerly anticipated shower proved to be another interesting experience. The shower room consisted of a compartment with grubby tiles and two taps/showers which gave off little electric shocks - rather disconcerting when one is naked and wet. I was virtually on hands and knees to get full benefit of the meagre trickle of hot water, and my ablutions were regularly interrupted by the lady janitor who kept popping in to check the water temperature!

However, clean and refreshed, Bauzhan and I strolled over to the chaikhana opposite (door on right with propietoresses in photo) where we had an excellent laghman.

If you are ever in Embi, you could no better than to eat at this little eating house .

Tomorrow Bauzhan is driving back to Shalkar to fetch Bolashak, hopefully suitably refreshed after his little holiday.

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.

Krossing the Karatau

Tuesday 28th September

After leaving Taraz on Friday, we worked our way along the northern side of the Karatau range to the small town of Karatau, where we struck westwards across the mountains towards the Syr Darya river valley. Along the road to Karatau it was always possible to ride over the steppe land at the side.

It transpired that the road I had originally planned to take no longer existed, but with the help of local advice, including herdsmen en route, we were able to follow a rough and remote track all the way over the range. The snowy peaks of the Zailisky mountains came into view again, but so far in the distance that they do not show up on the photo below. But I promise they are there! The blackened 'Mordor' like appearance of the hills is due to burning off dry grasses, presumably to promote fresh growth.

The only people we met were a small group of amiable herdspeople tending a large flock of sheep and goats on the high pastures. To my surprise they turned out to be Kurdish. Here are the 'boys' looking immensely pleased with themselves at having persuaded me to immortalise them in pixels, while the missus looks on resignedly.

She had every reason to look a trifle fed up a few minutes later when another member of the clan turned up with one of their sheep slung over the saddle - its throat torn out by a wolf.

An uneasy reminder of the presence of wolves in these parts, though Bakhram assures me they will not attack a horse with a person. And we had a peaceful lupineless night at this secluded spot high in the hills.