14/02/08 : Test SMS message

Testing the text message website update code. I'll be able to text diary updates to this blog when unable to get Internet access.

12/07/08 : General preparation stuff

A week to go till leaving. Think I've got all the most important stuff sorted. Got the bike set up and road tested with aluminium panniers, big windscreen and centre stand. Got spare inner tubes, tyre levers and CO2 cylinders for inflating the tyres. 2 x 5-litre petrol cans - 1 in each pannier. Might not ever need these but they will bring a bit of peace of mind for some of the longer stretches in Kazakhstan. Visas, International driving license, original vehicle documents all sorted and packed. Clothing - working on the 'wash one, wear one principle' - got some quick drying polyester stuff, and some liquid to wash it with. As with any journey, it's getting hard to strike a balance between travelling light and taking stuff that could get you out of a tricky situation - still trying to decide whether or not to take things like spare brake and clutch levers (these are things that will definitely get damaged in any bike drop and are obviously hard to ride without).

14/07/08 : New riding gear, shakedown ride

I'd been planning to take my everyday textile riding kit, but it's not breathable and is uncomfortable just on a 30 min commute - never mind wearing day in, day out in during the height of summer. And the trousers keep falling down. I haven't actually worn those trousers at all since April - I've just been riding in jeans, which is nice but naughty. The Saturday before leaving I find myself at Hein Gericke in Slough, idly perusing their clothing section. Before I knew it, I was dressed in a lightweight but well armoured suit of the finest GoreTex, with 'Taureg' emblazoned on the back to add to its desert credentials. Admiring myself in the full length mirror, I started to mentally justify dropping yet a few hundred more quid on this undertaking. The process went along the lines of : "if it's comfy and makes me look like Ewan MacGregor, I'm more likely to want to wear this and not ride around in t-shirt and shorts. We won't be spending much on food or utility bills while I'm away - I'm sure Anneke won't notice if I empty the joint account this month". Job done.

So today I put the panniers on the bike, dressed up in my new kit and set off for work. Riding through the traffic all kitted out on a bike the width of a smart car certainly seems to attract a bit of attention - I was asked where I was off to by a car driver at the traffic lights and by a chap at the petrol station. Riding with the big panniers on is OK - managed to avoid taking off any wing mirrors with them. The new kit is great - not a sweaty t-shirt or clammy trouser leg in sight!

18/07/08 : The night before...

Everything's ready. I've got 2 months off work, a working motorcycle that looks the absolute business, great stuff to wear while riding it, the right documents, money and my camera. These are all the essential ingredients for the kind of adventure I want to have. Even if I take nothing else, I'll still have a great time. Of all the other stuff I can't stop myself packing (listed in detail on the 'Kit' page), I know that half will just be dead weight for the entire trip - but, of course, I don't know which half that is. The panniers still look a bit empty though. I briefly congratulate myself on having packed light, then the idea of not taking them at all briefly floars into my head, and finally I decide to decant the contents of fridge into them until they are full. There's nothing worse than riding on an empty stomach - ask any well-padded biker! The alarm is set for 6.30. We go to bed. Anneke doesn't want me to leave, and I do feel a bit bad. But I'm so excited I can hardly get to sleep.

19/07/08 : Day 1 - Maidenhead to Metz

On road at 7.30 - round M25 and down M20 to Channel Tunnel. Anneke following in the car. She went straight on to Bluewater to drown her sorrows with a spot of retail therapy. I piled onto Le Shuttle with about 10 other riders and a cup of coffee, which soon ended up all over the floor. Chatted to another rider and told him about my plans. He said he was jealous - and then mentioned that he'd ridden around the world a few years ago!

Wet and windy start to the journey from Calais to Metz. Passed Canadian WW1 memorial at Vimy Ridge. Lunch in Reims and a quick wander round the cathedral. Sun came out in the late afternoon and a fab rolling wooded vista to enjoy thru Foret d'Argonne. Arrived in Metz youth hostel at 6.00. Soon got chatting to another British rider and his wife - his bike specially adapted to cope with his hi-tech false leg, which clearly didn't hold him back at all! Wandered round town to find groceries and beer - relaxing dinner on the hostel terrace overlooking the Moselle river. Metz is a lovely city full of historical buildings. It seems to have got off lightly in the first world war, given that the road leading here was lined with cemeteries.

20/07/08 : Day 2 - Metz to Regensburg

In Regensburg - 325 mls today. Hardly any traffic up to Mannheim, then long stretch of busy autobahn - a bit scary on a slow bike. Chanced upon German grand prix in full swing while in Hockenheim - watched a bit through a gate with all the other misers! Regensburg used to be the capital of Bavaria. It's a really picturesque town - on the banks of the Danube, with loads of well-maintained medieval houses built by rich merchants. Shared a room in a hostel with a student called Martin - in town looking for university accommodation. He kindly set up his laptop by my bed so I could watch his collection of Simpsons episodes after I crashed into the room full of beer, wurst and sauerkraut.

21/07/08 : Day 3: Regensburg to Bratislava

Bratislava, via Vienna. 330 miles, 1053 total. Anneke's colleague Jana met me in front of the Presidential Palace. With the bike securely locked up in the underground car park of Ernst&Young's Slovakian HQ, we embarked on an extensive tour of the city, with numerous food breaks. When it was too dark to see any more, I followed Jana back to her flat in the suburbs, where we concluded the evening on the balcony with an extensive tour of her whisky and cigar collection.

22/07/08 : Day 4 - Bratislava to Nowy Sacz

Nowy Sacz, Poland - 260 miles. Early start today and north-east towards Poland. Up the highway to Zilin, then followed the river Vah upstream (on the road running next to it, that is!), then onto small roads through the villages and hills. One notable feature of the Slovakian countryside is that almost every rocky outcrop has a big ruined castle clinging precariously to the top - I counted at least 6 in 100 miles. Straight through the derelict Slovakia/Poland border post and into 30 miles of roadwork and heavy lorry misery on the road to Krakow. Then turned right for the 40 slightly faster and very scenic miles to Nowy Sacz. The final 100 miles of today's route took 5 hours. Got a hotel with Internet, so there are some photos on the 'Photos' page!

23/07/08 : Nowy Sacz to L'viv, Ukraine

Today's destination : L'Viv, Ukraine. A feeling of nervous excitement in my stomach at the prospect of my first proper border crossing with the bike. I couldn't wait to see border guards with huge peaked hats and forbidding-looking Cyrillic signs! My excitement and spirits were dampened by the sound of the steadily pouring rain outside. The solid grey sky showed that the rain had settled in for the day and the street outside was awash. It was all I could do to force myself out of bed and into my riding gear. I lingered over breakfast hoping that when I got out the rain would have stopped, but of course it hadn't. 20 more minutes spent gaffer-taping all the zip seams of my gear didn't make the weather any better, either.

I pottered out of the town, holding up the rush-hour traffic - never ridden this bike in the wet before, and not sure how slippery these Polish junctions might be. It was 120 miles to the border at Premysl, via the busy main road through Gorlice, Jaslo, Krosno and Sanok . The going was very slow and wet. The gaffer tape didn't last long and I quickly got soaked and frozen. My boots were full of rain and my card got declined at a petrol station. The smooth start to the trip was definitely over!

It took 4 frustrating hours to reach Sanok and I was 2 hours behind my schedule. But then amazingly, an empty road of perfect tarmac and fabulous hairpin bends through the thickly-wooded hills took me right to Premysl. Despite the pouring rain, I didn't rush that bit. The smell of the woods in the rain was amazing.

12kms east of Premysl was the Ukrainian border. It was comforting to see a British-registered lorry trailer sitting in a layby. A short queue of cars waited at a barrier across the road, their drivers standing around chatting. It looked like this could take a while. I joined the back of the queue and started poking around my folder of documents, but was soon distracted by the group of drivers - they were gesturing me right to the front of the queue! Up at the front, a group of Polish motorcyclists seemed really interested in my bike (not the slightest interested in me, but I didn't mind!). They passed a happy 5 minutes poking it and playing with all the controls. The barrier swung up and the guard gestured us all in. Passports were collected and forms handed out. 3 swift queues and forms later I was at Customs. 'You Breetish?'. 'Heroin? Cocaine? Marajuana?'. Shook head. 'You through!'. Brilliant! A double-stamped customs form, a solid green block of cyrillic in the passport. A guard opened the final gate and I headed into Ukraine.

There was a definite contrast with Poland - fewer cars on the road, more horse-drawn carts, more old ladies with cows on pieces of rope. Plenty of potholes. 60 miles through the countryside and I entered L'viv at 6.00. I was still completely soaked and couldn't wait to get to the Kosmonaut Hostel, to get dry and pile into a warm bed with a couple of bottles of strong local beer. But the day had more challenges to throw at me. L'viv is a historic city with historic cobbled streets criss-crossed by ice-smooth steel tram lines. Not the best place to be on a motorbike in a wet rush-hour. I crawled into the town slipping the clutch all the way, weaving across the road to avoid the slipperiest bits, incurring the wrath of tram drivers and cars. Close to the centre, the road was closed right off for road works, just as my clutch overheated and failed. What a day! Soaked to the skin, and no idea of how to get round this diversion or sort out this immobile bike. Surely it couldn't be the end of the road so soon? One of the road workers and a policeman came over and helped me get the bike over to the kerb. After 10 minutes, the clutch had cooled down and I was on my way again, picking my way down an alleyway to emerge - joyfully - at the opera house. Finally a landmark that couldn't be mistaken. 5 minutes later I was wheeling the bike into the courtyard of the Kosmonaut hostel and recounting tall tales of my day's tribulations to a suitably appreciative audience of backpackers. A long, hard, wet day but hugely satisfying.

24/07/08 : Drying out - a day off in L'viv

Last night, we shared beers, a bottle of vodka and a carton of lemon juice around the hostel's dining table, and I just about managed to decline the invitation to go clubbing. Instead, I have a great night's sleep in a comfortable bunk. Looking out into the courtyard, it's still pouring, so I decide to enjoy the comfortable and friendly Kosmonaut for another day and night rather than face the wet cobbles again. . My riding gear is still soaked, anyway. Bread, jam and coffee are laid out for breakfast, and Facebook activity is already in full swing on the computer in the corner. When the rain eases off, I set off around the town. My first mission is to buy some more toothpaste. 'Normal' shops are hard to find here - the standard model is a big counter all around the shop, with access to goods behind it controlled by a couple of large elderly women. Having examined all the shops within a 1/4 mile radius of the hostel to verify that this is indeed the case, I venture into the one where the elderly women look the least disapproving. Being unable to get sufficiently close to the toothpaste to accurately point out the Colgate, I need to learn the word for it. By the time I finallly get my hands on the tube, I've been gone from the hostel for an hour.

On the way back, I bump into a couple I recognise from the hostel - Steve (Canadian) and his fiance Keira (Irish). Like me, they are wondering how to spend a wet day in L'viv. We walk up the hill to a church, end up in a rough part of town predominantly graffiti'd with swastikas, get soaked by a long downpour and go to the 'wild boar' cellar restaurant to dry off over beers and pirogis (dumplings stuffed with meat).

On Steve's recommendation, I go to see Madame Butterfly at the opera houe, accompanied by Florence (another Kosmonaut). We get a private box for £10. After 30 minutes without any singing, I realise it's actually a ballet, not an opera. The lights come up for the interval. Steve yells across the auditorium 'Sorry Abe - I didn't realise it was going to be this sh*t!!'. What with that, and Florence hanging out of the box taking copious flash photos, I feel the need for a stiff drink ASAP after the performance. So we go for a few beers, more pirogis down at the wild boar, a visit to the casino and a few more beers. Another day off tomorrow is very tempting. But Anneke's coming out to Kiev for the weekend, so I need to hit the road whatever the weather.

25/07/08 : L'viv to Rivne

Still raining this morning, but only about 130 miles to Rivne, my intended destination - a third of the way to Kiev. Rivne's only attraction, according to Lonely Planet, is some lakes 20 miles south of it, so I'm looking forward to a town of proper, authentic ex-Soviet ugliness. The weather is still nasty but all my kit is now dry. I don't bother taping up the zips again, for all the good it did the other day. To minimise the distance over wet cobblestones and steel tramlines, I've planned my exit route from the city carefully and memorised every turning. It all goes OK, and within 15 minutes I'm rewarded with a great stretch of new tarmac. I exchange waves with another 'adventure biker' going the other way, but can't place his numberplate with just a quick rearward glance. The thick diesel fumes in the morning traffic make my eyes water, and I become aware of the 'Kamaz' trucks that I'll be seeing constantly for the next few weeks.

The new tarmac lasts as far as Brody, then it's back to potholes. At Dubno, I stop for fuel and notice a fighter jet (subsequently identified as a MiG 19) angled out of the road on a steel pylon. I also got a bag of fabulous cakes, which briefly took my mind off being cold and wet again!

I don't have a street map of Rivne, but LP mentions that the 'Hotel Turist' was somewhere on the main road through the town, and close to the bus station. I stumble upon it quickly and get my first full-on Soviet hotel experience. At reception, you get a card, which you then take up to your floor and give to your floor lady. You follow her to your room and pay close attention while she shows you how to unlock it (this one actually involved 2 keys and a special spring-loaded knob that cracked open and shut like an air-rifle). You then repeat the process under her watchful gaze. After passing that test, you're allowed into your room. Further demonstrations of the television, desk fan and toilet flush follow, to which the only appropriate responses I can think of are 'ah's' of understanding and enlightenment.

I get warm and dry and fall asleep to something Russian on the telly. Then a wander up and down the road and a bite to eat on the balcony of a restaurant - some borscht and a ham joint. There's a noisy party of big ladies at the next table. Whenever I glance up, one of them seems to be sizing me up as a potential tasty snack (or as something dragged in by a stray dog). Whichever it is, I don't stay around long enough to find out!

26/07/08 : Full steam ahead to Kiev

A 210 mile ride to Kiev. Not being there in time to meet Anneke didn't bear thinking about, so it was full steam eastwards along the E40. Coming over a rise in the road, I noticed a distant figure flagging me down. My first speed trap!

According to the nice policeman's radar gun, I'd been going at 80kph in a 50 limit. I got to sit in the driver's seat of the police Lada while his colleague (the slightly less nice policeman) took me through some of the finer points of the Ukrainian highway code. The speed limit on this motorway would halve from 100kph to 50 whenever you passed a town sign, and go back up again when you passed a similar sign with a red line diagonally across it. I suppose I could have guessed this from the relaxed way in which the locals were ambling across the fast lane, but anyway - I managed to dig out the word for 'fine' from my Russian phrasebook, which seemed to go down well. 200 Hryvnia (pronounced 'greevna' - about £22) changed hands and the nice policeman ventured a couple of comments about Chelsea FC. 'Da - Roman Abramovich!' I replied, at which they both laughed heartily, shook my hand warmly and motioned me on my way. After all my preconcieved ideas about what the police in the fomer Soviet countries would be like, I was heartened by how straightforward and polite the encounter had been - these guys had been professional and friendly throughout.

By 2pm, I was within the city limits of Kiev and wondering how long it would take me to find the hotel by guesswork alone. The map from Expedia pinpointed the hotel's location with fabulous precision but was wary of committing itself to the existence of any streets at all. The map in Lonely Planet looked pretty good, but didn't have anything resembling the address of the hotel. My best clue was that the map had a place on it which matched a word in the name of the hotel. It seemed like a good starting point, and off I went. It didn't help that many of the central avenues were closed because of it being the weekend of a particularly important religious festival (1020 years since the foundation of the Ukrainian church) and that everywhere was crawling with policemen. As I passed one particular group for the third time, the now-familiar flourescent baton waved me over. This time I knew the drill: passport, international driving licence, expression of bewlidered innocence. I explained where I was coming from and going to, and pulled out my Lonely Planet map. The policemen pointed out a road that skirted the centre, heading north by the side of the river, and one of the first things I saw after turning the corner was the very welcome hotel sign. By 4.00, I had the bike tucked away in the underground car park and was loitering noncholantly in reception just as Anneke arrived.

Over the next 2 days, we covered the centre of Kiev thoroughly, by foot, funicular railway and Metro. The grand Soviet-era metro stations had come highly recommended, and they were worth a look. The Monastery of the Caves - one of the main highlights of the city - was a good hike up the hillside from the metro station, but worth it for the cramped, candle-lit tunnels with the mummified corpses of monks set into niches, attracting the sincere devotions of long queues of locals. Walking back to the centre against the tide of the main festival procession, it was clear just how religious a country Ukraine is. People from every walk of life - old people, sick people, youths, soldiers, dozens of grey-bearded priests each attended by two or three younger priests carrying spare hats in boxes - pressed down the street, carrying banners and chanting different things. We took the metro back from 'Arsenala' station to Independence Square, scene of 2004's Orange Revolution and today the same thriving hive of activity that you'd expect in any major city, complete with a prominent MacDonalds sign.

28/07/08 : Wild goose chase in Odessa

29/07/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Sudak, south coast Crimea. 386 mls. Fab hills and scenery here, after hundreds of flat miles in Ukraine so far. Great riding. Seems like fun place - 2 nights!

31/07/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Kerch - east tip Crimea. 90 mls. Waiting ferry to Russia in AM. Met 2 Brits at port. Found great little hotel - has disco - bike parked on edge of dance floor!

01/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Temr'uk, Russia. 60 mls (5 nautical!). Most day spent border crossing, ferry. Russian bikers amazing kind and helpful espec. Oleg & wife who I'm staying w 2nite

02/08/08 : The after-effects of proper vodka

Currently in Rostov on Don - not a city I'd ever really heard of, but apparently the 8th largest in Russia and the fastest growing. Certainly lots of gleaming skyscrapers everywhere, and a pretty nice hotel - not a brown velvet armchair in sight! About 220 miles today, 3005 in total

As I said in my last text, most of yesterday was spent waiting around for the ferry across the 5-mile strait between Port Krym (Crimea) and Port Kavkaz (Caucasus) - this being the crossing between Ukraine and Russia. It was certainly a nice day for lying on the grass by the sea and the various Russian bikers making the crossing (pictured on the photo page) were really helpful and friendly - telling me where to go and what do do, filling out Russian forms for me and so on.

On the other side, they were all able to get through immigration and customs straight away, but it took me about an hour. Nothing too painful and only 200 roubles (4 pounds) tax to pay on the bike, just quite a bit of waiting while various documents were printed. It was great to find Oleg and Anastasia (dentists from Moscow) still waiting for me when I got out. I followed them to the small town of Temr'uk, about 25 miles away, and on the shores of the Sea of Azov (famed for its medicinal mud). A blast down empty, well surfaced roads behind Oleg's big cruiser - going due East, the setting sun was blinding in my mirrors.

Oleg found the local hotel (another Soviet style place - same deal as Rivne, but can't complain for 12 quid) and arranged parking for the bikes in the local police station. Nice one! The fee was to take a couple of the cops for a quick pillion round the block. They hopped on happily - no helmets needed here, and gloves are for nancy-boys! We were soon in the restaurant across the road, tucking into a vast array of meat products garnished with a token salad. A half-litre of vodka and a litre of tomato juice were on the table. Several toasts later I felt I'd been properly welcomed to Russia. Oleg and Anastasia's kindness really made it a memorable day and I look forward to taking them out for a spin around the finest roads in the Thames Valley on their visit to England next year.

I set off early this morning for Rostov, leaving Oleg and Anastasia to investigate the medicinal mud. It was fairly busy out and I didn't reach Krasnodar (80 miles in) until lunchtime. Pulled over at a police checkpoint - documents out - I know the score now. "You drink?". "No, no, I'm fine thanks - I'll be off now". "You follow me". I was surprised to find myself being presented with a breathalyser and dumbfounded to find myself allegedly 3 times over the legal limit. My heart sank. Less than 24 hours in the country, and a serious offence - I could amost hear the cell door slamming shut behind me. I didn't know whether I really was over the limit on account of last night, or whether it was a 'special breathalyser' for tourists, and didn't feel able to argue the toss. With the aid of an english-speaking lady on the phone, we established that I was a very bad person, and was to be taken to the local alcoholics' hospital to dry out for the afternoon, while my documents were all taken somewhere else for a special inspection. Or ! I could just pay a $200 fine, grab a bite to eat in the coppers' canteen and be on my way. A huge relief. Just to be on the safe side, I won't be drinking any more vodka this trip!

03/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Volgograd. 298 mls on quiet roads. No cops today! Entertaining lunch with 5 locals at cafe in Morozovsk. They all photographed each other posing on my bike!

04/08/08 : Day off in Volgograd

Felt like a lie-in this morning, so extended my stay here and went sightseeing too. The most significant "attraction" here is Mamayev Kurgan, the hill overlooking Volgograd and commanding views for tens of miles around over the flat countryside. The military significance of this hill made it the setting for what is sometimes called the bloodiest battle in history - the Battle of Stalingrad. 2 million Soviet and German soldiers died here between August 1942 and February 1943, as control of the hill passed between the sides. The memorial is suitably massive, and took 15 years to build. I've put up a couple of photos. Walking off the beaten track, it's still possible to see the odd fragment of shrapnel and bone in the earth where they've been excavating trenches. It's very sobering.

On a lighter note, I've had a text from the Mongol Rally boys that I met in Port Krym. They're in Astrakhan for a couple of days, so I'll be meeting up with them tomorrow. It'll be good to be in fairly close company with them on the roads of western Kazakhstan, which will be the most remote of the trip.

05/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Astrakhan. 275 mls. Quite desert like but v pretty down by massive Volga river. In petrol station had to wait for herd of cows to leave 4court to get to pumps.

06/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Atyrau, Kazakhstan. 273 mls inc 40 due to wrong turn! Camels (mostly in road), mud houses, friendly waving locals. It's great! Crossed Ural River - now in Asia.

07/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Maqat, via dirt road detour to see Caspian Sea. Just 100 miles but next town 200 mls bad rd. No hotels here - staying in hostel for hard-as-nails oil workers!

08/08/08 : A day of negative progress!

Minus 90 miles - back in Atyrau! I left the oil hostel boys to it at about 7.00 and headed for Muqat's only petrol station, which was luckily just opening up. Having found the hostel by means of taking an old local chap pillion, but foolishly let him go again, I had to struggle to remember the route back. After taking on maximum fuel load - 15 litres in the tank, and both 5-litre cans full as well - I set off to try and find the road to Aqtobe. My plan for the day was to head about 200 miles up the road to Shubaquruq (spelling to be corrected later!), spend the night there and then make Aqtobe the day after. It only took about 40 minutes and directions from 1 local and 1 policeman to find the single main road heading out of this tiny settlement, so the day was off to a good start. (the road had basically been blocked off, and moved somewhere else)

After another hour and only 15 miles progress, I decided to reconsider my plans. The photo on the photos page give some idea as to why - the road is a dirt road and the surface is terrible. The riding was great - it was a lovely cool morning, and large birds of prey (maybe golden eagles - there are supposed to be lots here) kept swooping up from the roadside (probably looking at me as a nice bit of future carrion!). But because of how easy it would have been to come off, and the fact that there wasn't another soul around, I decided to head back to Atyrau and take the northbound road to Ural instead. I would spend tonight there before heading down the main highway to Aqtobe.

The journey back to Atyrau was only about 60 miles on reasonable roads and it passed quickly. Shortly into it, I met 2 other British riders coming the other way - each on a heavily loaded Royal Enfield (very old fashioned bike with woeful suspension, still built in India. Here, a bike is measured by its springs!). 'Does the road get any worse than this?' they asked. I shook my head slowly and tutted in the superior fashion of one who knew that they'd seen nothing yet. 'Well, give it a go if you like, but I'm heading back....'. They had lots of camping gear - it might take them a week to get to Aqtobe but I'm sure they'll be fine.

Back in Atyrau, I decided it would be a good opportunity to pop into the local police station to register my visa before cracking onto Ural. After 2 taxi rides, a long wait with some other visitors (including a hearty and voluble Latvian trucker) and being told to go back at 3.00, I decided that riding was out the window for the day, and to come to the Internet cafe and write this instead.

09/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Aqtobe. 612 miles. Got to Ural quick so thought wd do 2mrw's ride too. Strange local held 1 glove hostage. Ransom 80p. Got bike stuck in earth bank. Trying day.

10/08/08 : Almost got to Aral Sea, but turned

Still in Aqtobe, but 380 miles done today! 5099 miles in total. I planned to take the main M32 route from Aqtobe down to Aral today - should have been a straightforward 400 miles. Before setting off, I asked a taxi driver for his opinion of the road (not that there were many alternatives that he might have been able to suggest). The upshot of 5 minutes discussion with all the other drivers standing around was that the first half was 'super', but the second half? 'Nyet doroga!'. No road? Maybe they just meant it was a bit bumpy. Anyway, fully loaded with fuel, I set off, excited to be heading to the Aral Sea and its ship cemetery. This was one of my most eagerly-awaited parts of the trip.

Well, the taxi drivers' collective wisdom proved to be spot on. The first 180 miles flew past on lovely smooth tarmac, rolling through the steppe. Then all of a sudden - nyet doroga! Oh dear. 300kms of road works coming up. The road turned into a bombsite of ruts and potholes. I moved onto the temporary road - sand and gravel. Slithering all over the place, I covered about 8 miles in 40 minutes. Great fun in a way, but it wasn't going to get me to Aral before nightfall. With no other towns between here and there, nobody else around and no mobile signal, it was clear that this would be a risky venture for a solo motorcyclist. Very disappointing, but the consequences of coming off and breaking a wrist didn't bear thinking about. With a heavy heart I turned around and rode back to Aqtobe.

So what next? There's one more route I can try tomorrow. I'll run it by the taxi drivers, but it'll probably be more of the same, in which case I'll probably head home. It'll be a shame to miss out on the Aral Sea and Turkistan, but better safe than sorry in this game.

12/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Shalquar.225 mls, 100 on dirt - getting better at that! Day of weakness yesterday, didn't do much. Staying in mosque rooms - surprising amount of beer around!

13/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Aral, Aral Sea port till it dried up. Abandoned boats in harbour. 230 mls. Think I'm past worst roads now. Not many people out 2day but plenty eagles & camels.

14/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Kyzylorda. 289 mls. Passed Baikonur Cosmodrome, where Yuri Gagarin was launched from. Becoming less deserty & more populated now - heading up Syrdariya River.

15/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Turkistan. 192 mls, 6064 total. Visited ruined Silk Road city of Sauran en route. Big mud walls and ramparts, completely abandoned, nobody about - fabulous!

16/08/08 : Taraz - one more ride to Almaty!

Just arrived in Taraz, which means only 350 miles to go to Almaty. Then coming home! Will be flying back - I've seen enough and don't want to ride the whole route in reverse. Plus, there's no way my back tyre will last the journey! I've uploaded a couple more photos from Sauran and Turkistan.

17/08/08 : SMS from 447801678467

Almaty! 328 mls. Total 6619. Great final ride thru foothills of Tien Shan mountains. Home soon! Met hard core Brit RTW cyclist who sleeps in roadside ditches.

21/08/08 : Back at home!

The bike is now in a crate waiting to come home, and I'm back at work! After getting to Almaty, it took 2 fairly hectic days to sort out all the shipping - the paperwork, which involved traipsing round the city between the shipping agents (Globalink), the notary (basically a cheap solicitor, who had to give the shippers power of attorney over the bike), a translation service who had to translate my passport for the notary to be able to do their thing, and another notary who had to certify the translation! That was a bit of a hoo-hah. Once that was sorted, I then followed someone from Globalink in their car down to their warehouse, which was based on a fearsome-looking scrapyard near the airport. There, the poor bike had many of its extremities removed (to reduce the size of the crate that would be built around it, and therefore the shipping cost) and was wheeled into the cavernous shed to await its fate. That's the last I've seen of it! All being well, she'll be back here on Tuesday and getting well pampered next weekend. Apart from the clutch incident in Lviv, nothing at all went wrong with it. A new rear tyre, and she'll be good to go again. Which is more than can be said for her rider - I've had enough of biking for at least a month!

19/04/10 : SMS from 447801678467

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