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.
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