The Stan Family Part 2 - Kyrgyzstan

Exiting Kazakhstan at the town of Qarqara then entering Kyrgyzstan via Taldi-Suu was a very quick and easy affair and soon enough I was skirting the Southern side of Lake Isik – Kol.

 

Arriving in Karakol I stopped at an Information Centre run by very helpful English speaking students one of whom made a few phone calls and secured me accommodation in what turned out to be a very comfortable guest house for my three (3) night stay in town.

The following morning after a great guest house breakfast I was back on the road for a sight-seeing expedition. First stop was Jeti-Oguz, a rock formation in a nature reserve about sixty (60) kilometres out of town, while there I paid a few dollars to some boys to be photographed with their pet Hawks, I also rode into the reserve valley, crossing several log bridges on the way.

 

Back in Karakol I visited two old timber buildings of significance in the town, Dungan Mosque and the Russian Orthodox Church before returning to the guest house.

An early morning start was necessary to observe the somewhat slow paced Animal Bazaar, horses, sheep, goats and cattle were bought and sold, though I think there may have been more people in attendance than there was animals.

 

 I then returned to the guest house for another great breakfast before riding the 3820 metre high Chongasuu mountain pass, about 100 kilometres out of Karakol. The temperature dropped to about eleven (11) degrees at the high point, the relief from the heat in the cool mountain air and the views made it well worth the ride.

Late afternoon back in Karakol I had my motorcycle washed by a teenage boy and his younger brother in the family garage car wash, the younger of the boys was more interested in the geography of my travels using my flag collection and world map to convey and explain my travel route.

After a little relaxation in Karakol I continued my Southern route around Isik-Kol, experiencing some extremely windy conditions courtesy of a storm in nearby high mountain peaks while I made my way to an overnight stop in a brand new hotel in the town of Balichi. Back on the road the next morning I was stopped on the edge of town by a Policeman with radar gun in hand insisting I was riding 60 kph in a 40 kph zone, I had seen the speed sign and the cop well before I was in radar range and I was definitely only doing 40 kph. The cop wanted 5,000 cum ($US100), so I stuck with my 40, 40, 40 reply, he would then say 60, 60, I removed my helmet and settled in determined not to pay one (1) cent, I continued insisting 40, 40, 40 and he would not show me the radar, and after 10 minutes or so he got sick of me and said go, go, go. Happy that no payment was required I left quickly before he had time to change his mind. Police with radars were on the edge of every town throughout the days ride, making for slow progress at every 40 kph town zone.

As the kilometres ticked over I began to hear (or thought I was hearing) that horrible rear wheel bearing grinding sound, I stopped, put the bike on the centre stand and spun the wheel, no noise, and the wheel spun easily, so I continued on. Arriving in the outskirts of the city of Bishkek no imagination was necessary, the wheel bearings were once again disintegrating. To avoid cutting loops around town and the possibility of complete bearing collapse while finding my selected accommodation I paid a taxi driver and followed the cab directly to Radison Guest House. Relieved to be parked and off the bike I settled into my guest house room, while I was settling in, Radi, the son in the family run guest house made a phone call and within the hour a motorcycle mechanic was accessing my damaged rear wheel. The good news was he can source and replace the bearings, the bad news was that the damaged bearing spacer that should have been replaced in Almaty and was not, cannot be sourced. Not a problem say’s Ramon the mechanic, “in Kyrgyzstan we make”, so the following day new bearings were installed, a new machined spacer was installed and I could relax, confident the wheel had been fixed correctly for the third time.

Second order of business in Bishkek was more visa’s, it has been no easy task obtaining visa’s for this part of the world, but with a Letter of Invitation (LOI) from a visa agent in hand I have only to wait two and one half hours on the street outside the embassy of one nation before receiving my visa on the spot. I had a short walk to the other embassy, then to a specific bank to pay a fee, I returned to the embassy and receive the second visa in my passport. After the bike and visas were sorted out I spent several days relaxing, walking the streets and sight-seeing, Bishkek has a beautiful mountain back drop, and also many sculptures and statues to view and photograph throughout the city precinct.

 

 

On my final night in Bishkek I ate my evening meal at a local eating hall, Plov, a plain enough meal as the name suggests, consisting of rice, vegetables and meat, it seemed fine while eating, but through the night I woke in a sweet, and visited the toilet on numerous occasions. I have suffered the odd bout of traveller’s stomach on my trip, but never like this, I really felt ill. After a week in Bishkek I had to move on, so I dragged myself out of bed in the morning, forced down a little breakfast, said farewell to Radi and Yulia and reluctantly hit the road.

 

The ride to my overnight stopover was tough going with little energy, the mountain scenery was spectacular, but all I wanted to do was to reach my destination, I didn’t even stop for any photographs and after reaching the town of Toktogul I ate only soup and bread for dinner before a very early night in the hope of sleeping off and recovering from my unsettled stomach and general feeling of ill health.

I woke early the following morning but was unable to make an early start, I could not leave the hotel I was staying in, all exit points were locked, I waited until 8.00 am before waking someone to unlock a door. Back on the road I rode six (6) hours to Osh, stopping in Jalalabat for a lamb shashlik and bread for lunch. As I rode into Osh I noticed a motorcyclist in a small roadside workshop, I stopped and ask about accommodation, Byron, a Brit travelling on a Suzuki DR 400 recommends a suitable guest house and provides me with directions. It was a stroke of luck because several other motorcyclists were also staying at the guest house. Chris, a seasoned traveller with eighteen (18) years on the road, his partner and travel writer Laura and travel companion Michael were teaming up for a ride across China, and after the recent bike issues and my ill health it was nice to have good company for a few days to buoy my spirits again. I also took the opportunity to visit Patrik at MuzzToo Tours, he operates a motorcycle tour company and has a fleet of bike available for hire and a mechanic who was able to fix my leaking fork seals.

On my second night in Osh the guest house yard was filled with seventeen (17) motorcycles including a group of ten men from Poland who hired bikes and toured Kyrgyzstan and neighbouring countries.

In Osh I ate the best meal I have eaten in weeks.

Once again it is time to move on, I ride a short day covering two hundred (200) kilometres to Sari-Tash for my final night in Kyrgyzstan, I am accommodated in a home stay where I enjoy an outside shower from a milk churn with water heated by the sun, then eat a decent meal of potatoes, cabbage, capsicum with tomato & cucumber salad. I am still suffering from an upset stomach though, and good food is not being enjoy as it should be, I will be haunted by that Bishkek Plov meal for some time to come.

The landscape and terrain in Kyrgyzstan has been pretty spectacular, the road to Sari-Tash and then my final kilometres to the border were no exception.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Stan Family Part 1 - Kazakhstan

After a little research on Russia / Kazakhstan border crossings that are able to be used by foreign travellers I opted for the supposedly quieter of the two available in the region I was located. The Tret’yakovo / Shamanaikha crossing was as noted on the internet quiet, I purchased insurance for Kazakhstan on the Russian side of the border, joined a line of several cars and after a short wait proceeded to the Immigration building and had my passport stamped to exit Russia. I then rode to the Kazakhstan border, followed the steps written in several languages on a sign outside the Immigration building and after a brief discussion about my travels with Customs officials was on the road in Kazakhstan.

My first priority was money, there was not an ATM or money exchange at the border crossing so I rode into the town of Shamanaikha, parked my motorcycle and entered the first bank I came across. Cashed up I returned to my bike and prepared to leave the town but inquisitive locals put a stop to my exit. One young local lad rode up on his Honda Shadow, jumped off and introduced himself, chatted away, posed for photos, with me and many other locals. It was about lunch time so I asked the young bloke where there was a good place to eat, he jumped on his bike and said follow me, only to cross the street and park outside a row of shops. After eating lunch we returned to the bikes where I was approached by two woman, one with pen and paper in hand, the other a large camera. The local journalist introduced herself then jotted down my name and my travel story, I was photographed with my motorcycle, with more locals, with the journalist, and with the photographer, the journo took down my contact details and then finally I was free to go, escorted out of town by the young man on his Honda Shadow and on the road in Kazakhstan.

 

 

Dark clouds rolled in and rain threatened as I reach the city of Oskemen mid-afternoon, I enquired about accommodation at several hotels but all are well out of my price range. Finally I settle on a hotel for my one night stay, unload my bike just as hail began to bombard the pavement, hail stones large enough to damage an exposed human head pelted down for several minutes, then the rain settled in for the afternoon.

 



The following morning I rode out of Oskemen with light rain still falling, on the outskirts of town I was stopped by police, they viewed my passport and sent me on my way, no drama. I continued on the very rough, bumpy tarred road for a day ride total of 530 kilometres, at one stage slowing on approach to a localised crop field swarming with locusts, I am surprised at how well the locust’s part as I rode slowly through to avoid contact. I reach the town of Ursharal late afternoon, settle into a hotel and plan the next day’s ride.

The following morning I am back on the rough, bumpy, pot holed road, seventeen (17) kilometres out of Ursharal my motorcycles rear end twitches, I think it may be the sunken wheel lines in the road, but then an accompanying grinding sound brings me to a stop. Collapsed rear wheel bearings I suspect. I decide to ride slowly back to Ursharal, but six (6) kilometres out of town the rear end seizes. Oh f#ck, at least there is passing traffic now and I flag down a tractor towing an empty trailer and ask if he will transport my motorcycle back to town, he agrees, and he flags down another tractor with three (3) men aboard to assist loading my bike. Back in town at the hotel I had left several hours earlier, with the rear wheel removed I assessed the damage, then with the assistance of an English speaking hotel guest named Darkhan, I visit local mechanics in an attempt to fix my destroyed wheel bearing.

After purchasing a new bearing a local fitter and turner with gold caps on every tooth in his mouth fits the new bearing without charge. Back at the hotel trying to refit the wheel I realise the damage is more significant than just the bearing and I will not be riding anywhere without installing parts not available in Usharal. I discuss options with Darkhan, who lives in Taldiqorghan, a town three hundred (300) kilometres South, in Ursharal on business, and I decide to try and organise a truck to transport my bike and I to Almaty, six hundred kilometre’s South of Ursharal and the capital of Kazakhstan, possibly my best bet for parts and a repair workshop.

Just out of Ursharal is a round-about where trucks stop for fuel and food, Darkhan offers to drive me out there and translate negations with truckies. After asking several drivers we find a man with a small Pantech truck whom is heading to Almaty and agree on a price for transportation. The driver stay’s overnight in the same hotel as Darkhan and I, the following morning we set off at 6.00 am for a twelve (12) hour journey to Almaty, When we reach Almaty, we unload my motorcycle with the assistance of hotel staff, I thank the truck driver and settle into a nice hotel that is over my budget, but after the last few days I am beyond caring.

 

 

 

 

I find a mechanic in Almaty who is able to do the repair work he and assures me he has the parts for a complete and through repair job. After six days in Almaty, one repaired motorcycle, one additional visa stamp in my passport for down the track, and a little sight-seeing, I am back on the road and headed to Kyrgyzstan, before crossing the border I view the tail end of Sharm Canyon and photograph a Landcruiser with a great looking matt black ripple paint job, a reminder of a previous vehicle I had owned.