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Bukhara, Uzbekistan. A relief to reach the city. The last 8 days, which included racing across the Karakum desert in Turkmenistan to stay within the confines of my 5 day transit visa, have been the toughest of my life. To counter this though I have smashed through the 5, mile marker in style! If you are a cyclist who has reached this post looking for logistical info. I headed out of Mashhad, the second largest city in Iran, with the strictest section of this trip in front of me. The two days in Iran to the border were smooth and uneventful. I camped my first night just before the town of Mazdavand between a couple of ruts of dirt that are part of a new road project…. A slight problem with my choice of camp was dealing with a big climb up through the town first thing in the morning before my legs had warmed up but the view back down to the plain was reward enough…. After carrying the turtle across the road, seemingly terrifying him in the process as I doubt he has experienced moving at human walking speed before, I treated myself to an ice cold Zam Zam cola in a road side seller…. Zam Zam was the top soft drink in Iran for many years as various sanctions had prevented Pepsi and Coca Cola from getting a foot hold. I also enjoy the Muslim-centric marketing for the drink. Zam Zam is the name of the holy well in Mecca, it seems slightly inappropriate to name a soft drink after it! Just to make this section a bit tougher the road seemed to suffer from what seems to be a global problem. I shacked up in the Hotel Dootsky near to the border post on the Iranian side, a popular hotel for cyclists trying to have a last night of comfort before tackling Turkmenistan. In the morning I spent the last of my Iranian Rials stocking up on water for the road ahead. Stocking up on water for Turkmenistan…. I rode the kilometre to the Iranian customs arriving about a minute after they opened and submitted myself to confusing process that I have become accustomed too. Get waved through by security, take passport to window, immigration officer directs me back to security who look confused then randomly pick one of my bags to search. Then sit waiting for 30 minutes before my stamped passport being brought back to me and then being escorted out of the building through an unmarked side door rather than the main exit and pointed in the direction of the kilometre of No Mans land before the Turkmen entry point. I had a lot of anxiety about crossing Turkmenistan due to a variety of factors. The root cause of the problem is due to Turkmenistans extremely closed nature getting a tourist visa requires you to go on an expensive tour and have a guide with you at all times. Due to the expense, and impracticality, of finding a guide willing to cycle across a desert with you the only feasible option is to utilise the countries fairly easy to obtain 5-day transit visa. Another complication with this visa is that it is for a fixed five day date window which is set in stone when you apply for the visa, in my case nearly a month prior in Iran. The most popular route through the country I knew to be around km, an easy feat in five days in most conditions but Turkmenistan throws up a lot of variables. Firstly immigration can take a very long time, both exiting Iran and entering Turkmenistan, eating away at the first of your 5 days in country. They have been reports of waiting up to 8 hours all but removing the first day. In the end I was lucky. It took me 30 minutes to exit Iran and about an hour of immigration into Turkmenistan that was so confusing it made exiting Iran seem like a cake walk. I was moved back and forth from about 3 differant people, not even sure who actually stamped me into the country, and had my luggage searched thoroughly for the very first time on my trip. Whilst clearing customs I ran into two French cyclists, Simon and Basil, who I had bumped into a couple of times in Iran, once in Tabriz and once in Mashhad. After waiting 20 minutes for them to also clear customs we rode into a new country, and a new region of the world. Immediately there was huge differance. Due to Turkmenistan being very closed, both to foreigners entering and locals being allowed to leave, you do not see a build up of Turkmen in Iran as you approach the border. In fact in the days approaching the border I only saw a single vehicle with Turkmen plates. Near virtually ever other border I have crossed there is a gradual shift. Women were no longer in headscarves, they were all in a mix of brightly coloured traditional dresses or in modern western style jeans and t-shirts. We stopped to change money and eat food in Saraghs and found the Turkmen people were as friendly as the Iranians but in a much much more reserved away. Everyone that walked past would quietly walk over to us, shake our hands without saying a word and then walk off. We made our way out of town with a few people stopping to make sure we knew exactly where we were going. As soon as the buildings of the town we were met by some of the flattest terrain we had ever seen…. The beginning of the bad Amol road north of Saraghs Turkmenistan. The road continued in this exact same way although it varied in quality constantly. The wind picked up and we could see dust devils little tornados whipping up columns of sand an dancing across the road in the distance. Every now and again we saw some little lizards running along too…. This hot arid air would dry out my nose and mouth in seconds after taking a mouthful of water offering very little respite. Eventually my water reached a very high temperature and become very unpleasant to drink. I dumped a tea bag and some sugar into one of my bottles as an experiment and I have to say slightly cold sweet tea is far far more refreshing than hot water. At points the winds and very bad road surface slowed us down to a mere 8kmph, walking speed. At 60km we crossed over an irrigation channel and in desperate search of refreshment dove in. We also collected some of the fairly dirty water from it for filtering later on in the day as we were getting through our stocks of water fairly fast…. After another 10km we called it a day. It made sense to spend our second night in Mary which was km or so away and from each of our experience in Iran we found that the winds tended to be much better in the morning. We hit the road before 7am and in the cool still air made decent progres. In some places the road was so bad trucks had worn much better paths through the shrubs away from the road…. Paths in the desert were easier to ride than the road itself in places. We climbed a large old bridge which took us over the Karakum canal, one of the longest irrigation canals on earth at 1,km in length, and gave us some intimidating views of the road we were following disappearing to the horizon through pure flat nothingness…. Depressing view of the long road ahead from a bridge of the Karakum Canal. When we finally rejoined the main road I asked the first person I saw, a young boy on a bike, where the nearest shop was My Russian once again becoming useful and he pointed to a building just down the road over a bridge. We limped to it and were quickly knocking back ice cold Pepsis and our first can of beer each for 6 weeks despite it being 9am. I noticed I had absolutely no appetite and really struggled to force any food down and pedalled off towards Mary after just a few oranges. I was feeling really weak on the bike and was relieved to stop in a cafe after 40km as there had been nowhere to stop in the shade before this in the boiling hot 40 degree plus sun. We waited for two hours for the worst of the heat to pass and during this time my appetite did not improve despite being aware of my lack of energy. I managed to force myself to eat a litre of ice cold yoghurt and felt much better. The rest of the road to Mary was a haze of me looking at the road and struggling to keep going, about 15km out I felt like my blood sugar was crashing worse than I have ever felt before and rolled into a shop. I downed a litre of Fanta and ate an ice cream which perked me right back up but quite rightly also made me feel really sick. After 10km of energy filled riding my sugar levels crashed hard again and after stopping found I could barely stand and had to lay on the floor to let a wave of nausea and weakness pass. This did not bode well for crossing the country in 5 days. I knew we were 5km from a hotel in the centre of Mary and I knew I needed to be there as fast as possible. I pulled myself back onto the bike, kept rolling, and the second we were outside the hotel I was on the ground again struggling to find the strength to standup and go through the check in process. We got to our room, which seemed to take an eternity due to slow moving staff and a dodgy lift, and I was horrified when I looked in the mirror. My face looked like a skull, my cheeks and eyes had sunk into my head and there were massive black rings around my eyes. I knew I needed to eat if I stood a chance of recovering overnight but still had an incredible feeling of nausea. I had an unpleasant ice cold shower which exacerbated the cramping. The worst being when I bent over to pickup up the shower head from the floor of the bath all of my abdominal muscles went into cramp causing me to collapse in agony. I lay in bed unable to nap and then headed out with Basil and Simon to try and eat. We found a place selling shashlik Lamb skewers and even though I found the first bite delicious I struggled to swallow. As soon as the food hit my stomach the nausea returned intensely. I excused my self returning to the hotel with the rest of my dinner wrapped up and spent the best part of an hour forcing myself to eat it all before sleeping for 12 hours straight. In the morning I looked and felt better but was still absolutely drained. Basil stepped onto the balcony and mercifully declared the wind was in our favour. I had decided in the night that there was no way I could make it if the wind was against me in my current state. The Hotel Sanjan in Mary is right next to the Train station and I knew it was my last chance to take the easy way out. If I continued by bike and had a problem I would have to rely on hitch-hiking to get out of the country on time. We went to change money in the bank but were instead shown into the back of a van which had been furnished as a compact office where we were given a better exchange rate than the banks had offered. We went in search of breakfast were I forced more food down myself. Golden statues of former President-for-life Niyazov litter Turkmenistan. Niyazov renamed numerous things after himself, his mother, his dog and also a book he wrote. His other eccentricities include banning smoking in the country when his doctor advised him that he needed to quit so that everyone had to give up with him. Strangely he also decided to rebrand gold teeth, a traditional status symbol in Turkmenistan, as unsightly. This led to many highly skilled people struggling to find work due to having what had until recently been a good indicator to their success and wealth. These days though you still see many men and women in the country proudly showing off their full sets of gold teeth, they used to one of the top wedding gifts for a newly married women. After a glorious 30km being carried by the wind we stopped to force down more food, Basil and Simon were also struggling to eat but not as badly as I was. It was at this point I needed to decide if I wanted to do the 15km detour to see the ancient Silk Road city of Merv, once one of the worlds greatest cities and later the site of the worlds single largest execution. I went for it rationalising that I might as well at least see something in the country if I am struggling so hard, I was determined that I would still make it across by bike. He ordered his men to execute the entire population of the city in a single day, all , adults and children. We had to ride into the wind to reach Merv and shocked by the entrance fees and the extra fees to take photos we snook a couple of photos of the Sultan Sanjar mausoleum…. Sultan Sanjar mausoleum, Merv, Turkmenistan. I headed back off to highway ahead of the other guys keen to ride at a slower pace for a longer time to make up the distance. On the way out of Bayramly I was shouted at by everyone to take a differant road. None of this made sense as the GPS on my phone showed I was on a direct road through the desert and their directions would force me south around the bypass adding distance. I decided enough people were insisting this so took their advice but was worried Basil and Simon may end up on a differant road so I put in my best effort to reach the point where the two routes re merged to that we would run into each. The greenery fell away and sand dunes begun to emerge with greater winds. This was the real Karakum desert. The road we had hit before was just a warm up. Fortunately the wind was still mostly a help with a slight tailwind with a bit of crosswind that served to cool me down. I pressed on and when they caught up explained they had received the same treatment regarding road choice as I had. The locals concerns seemed to be valid when we finally reached the point where the roads should of re joined and found no site of the road we had planned to take. We decided to take a break when we spotted a small farm nestled in some trees and asked the staff if they had any water to wash ourselves as we were covered in sand at this point. They escorted us to an irrigation channel and were initially confused when we declined their offer of a bucket and chose instead to strip to our cycling shorts and climb in. The wind changed into a huge crosswind which got stronger and stronger. Initially it was quite beautiful, little fingers of golden dust dancing across the road…. Sand blowing across the road in Turkmenistan before turning into a full on sandstorm. But this quickly turned into hell as our skin was sand blasted and visibility began to drop. I was beginning to get seriously weak at this point and will be eternally grateful for Simon and Basil riding between me and the wind giving me the respite I needed to get the distance covered. We asked if we could sleep on the floor and were told we were welcome until 11pm when they must lockup. I took this opportunity and then managed to eat a big bowl of Plov, a local rice dish with meat and potatoes, and we setup camp using the cafe as wind block. In the morning I was finally starting to improve. I was still shattered but feeling much more like myself. I made instant noodles for breakfast and found that despite my lack of appetite I could happy eat heaps of the stuff, this was a very good discovery for me. We rode on with anticipation as today was the start of a big desert stretch where we did not know if we could re-supply for km or so. We reached the final hut selling water and food by the arch marking the start of Lebap province…. The gateway to Lebap province with the rip off water sellers hut on the left. You can just make out the hut to the left of the arch in the above photo. The lady running it proceeded to savagely rip as off as both she and we knew we had no choice. We rode our heavy bikes into the desert. I discarded some stale bread only for a desert squirrel to emerge from nowhere and comically run off with it…. As we sat eating lunch on the surface of what had been the old road a solitary car appeared on the horizon who for some reason was choosing to drive on this mess rather than the fresh tarmac mere feet away. Basil must not have been having a good day as he simply began shouting at the man in emphatic french and pointed to what was clearly the road. We pressed on and to our surprise spotted a roadside cafe. Keen to get something more refreshing than our now hot bottled water we pulled up to find it was closed. During our 30 minute wait we all took turns peering in the window fantasising about the refrigerator of ice cold drinks. His choice of wording had more to do with how French translates to English but I still thought it was a great statement;. That could be a great marketing slogan. Finally the owner turned up, let us in, and we downed three cans of the stuff each. We reached the days goal of km which would leave us 92km to the border for the following day. I reckoned I had some more left in me despite my ever increasing fatigue so led the way with a plan to stop when I felt I had too. I set a goal in my head of km and and when I rolled over a hill to spot a truck stop at My appetite finally began to return and I managed to eat a huge dinner of pasta, tuna and a mystery pasta sauce I bought in Mary that turned out to be absolutely delicious. My spirits lifted with the food and I nipped inside buying a 1. The beer was a real surprise, a heavy brown beer not too far from Leffe Brun. As we ate we were surprised to see a big group of cyclists turn up on an odd assortment of what did not look like touring bikes. With my basic Russian we conversed and they explained they were doing a circuit of Turkmenistan and began to ask what we were doing. I explained our route and the restrictions of our 5 day transit visa and at this point they all began to thanks us for coming to their country despite the restrictions. It was really nice to have a few experiences like this to make our short difficult time in the country worth the effort…. From L-R. Turkmen cyclist, me, Turkmen cyclist, Basil, Simon, Turkmen cyclist. We setup camp in the dunes in the desert behind the truck stop only to be kept awake by a dog barking throughout the entire night. Simon had a Dazer which is a Dog Tazer which works by emitting a very high frequency sound then tends to confuse dogs and stop them attacking. This worked a treat and would give us relief for maybe an hour or so. On top of this I was constantly awoken during the night when I noticed what appeared to be rats running across the canopy of my tent. I later realised they were most likely squirrels like the one I saw early. We had another early start keen to make it to the border which closed at 4pm. We road 35km of the remaining 72km in a single burst to the centre of Turkmenabat passing some lazy camels along the way. It took me a second for the significance to kick in. Quite a moment and we stopped to watch them slowly plod across the road in front of us in perfect silence…. Lazy camels on the desert road, Turkmenistan. We stopped for lunch 15km shy of the border and as I was making noodles a car turned up saying the road would soon be closed so the President could drive through. Just before the compound a money changer got our attention with a free bottle of ice cold water, a very shrewd marketing technique, and we decided to change enough cash to get us through a few days in Uzbekistan. This is where the craziness begins. A 5, note has been issued but is not in wide spread use. Uzbekistan is not a poor or cheap country so this leads to everyone carrying around insane wads of cash. When we pointed this out we were quickly given the rest with a cheeky gold toothed smile from lady vendor and an extra bottle of ice cold water. Off we went into the border complex with a celebratory moment that we had done it, five tough days across Turkmenistan. Exiting the country went fairly smoothly except for the lengthy checking of all of our bags. The reality of our lives on the road sank as we saw the expressions on the customs officers faces as they dug through some of our particularly disgusting luagge. Whilst waiting in custom we also ran into some Russian motorcycle tourists who had overstayed their Transit visa and were in the process of being deported. One of them spoke English and decided to alleviate his boredom by helping us get through quickly. We were back on the road and greeted by the first road sign since Iran there are none in Turkmenistan at all, I recommend a GPS! The first road sign in a long time, Uzbekistan. We asked some guys at a construction camp if it was a good area to camp and emphatically told no due to the high snake population in the area. After 15km we reached Otol, a town not on the map and went in desperate search of something refreshing to drink and were horrified to find that it is not standard practice to refrigerate soft drinks in shops in this area. We walked into one store to see a solitary bottle of Pepsi in a fridge. The shop keeper was shocked by our whoops of delight only to be even more shocked as we flailed around in despair when we realised the bottle was boiling hot as the fridge was not switched on. We dashed in and gasped with refreshment as we took our first sips. We slapped all the lights on our bikes and headed off down the hard shoulder looking for the first suitable campsite. We took the first turning on the right and spotted a farmhouse with a big porch out front. The owner popped his head out and we asked if it be ok for the three of us to sleep in the dirt under the tin roof, we had no desire to fumble with our tents. After a hushed conversation inside he ushered us in and showered us to some traditional mattresses on a wooden platform we could sleep on in his courtyard. I had a quick conversation in Russian with the guy and it seemed he was quite well off as he owned a 70 hectare cotton plantation, a big industry in Uzbekistan. Three visibly dirty foreigners turn up on bicycles outside your house at 8pm and ask if they can sleep under your porch. Fuelled by our big breakfast and the knowledge that the comforts of Bukhara were only 65km away we powered off into the cool morning air managing to sleep stream behind a tractor at 35kmph for about twenty minutes…. Chasing the tractor on the road to Bukhara, Uzbekistan. Sadly the driver was not going all the way but gave us a huge smile and wave as he took his turn off and we raced on all the way to city centre. Les Trois Mousquetaires, Bukhara, Uzbekistan. I also want to divert the interest this trip generates towards helping out a charity that made a big differance to some friends of mine. Samuels Children Charity are a Lewes based charity providing support to families throughout the UK who are currently affected by childhood cancer. Did you ever figure out what made you so sick? Or was it possibly just exhaustion from pushing so hard through Turkmenistan? I doubt most Americans have ever heard of Uzbekistan, much less travelled there. Were they a particular age group? There a surprisingly huge amount of tourists here in Bukhara on big coaches. Americans, French, Germans and Italiens mostly of retirement age. An Austrian lorry in Turkmenistan? No way! I did notice that! It was only the container though, the truck was Turkish and so was the driver. What an adventure! People like you and your french friends amaze me! Will follow your blog now to keep updated! Happy cycling to you! Thanks James, that was a great read!!!! Do you know about any long distance buses between Bukhara and Mashhad? Thanks for the donation, very kind! There is no transport that actually crosses Turkmen borders. From there you have a few options of a bus or train to Mary. You can probably get off a bus a stop early in Byramaly and then get a taxi off into Merv. From Mary to the Sarkahs border there is a bus. However, if you have the luxury of taking transport the five days in Turkmenistan would be much better spent crossing in near Navoi in Uzbekistan and then going down the centre of the country stopping at the burning gas crater and then seeing the capital of Ashgabat. Home About me. James Finnerty. Bukhara, Uzbekistan to Samarkand, Uzbekistan — miles 5, total ». Construction site camping in Iran. The view from Mazdavand, Iran. Crossing the road in Iran. Road side shops in Iran. Zam Zam, a real treat in the heat. Lizards on the roads in Turkmenistan. The road from Sarakhs to Mary. Swimming in the irrigation channel. Architecure in Mary, Turkmenistan. Kyz-Kala, Merv, Turkmenistan. Desert squirrel Turkmenistan. Like Loading Tags bukhara , mary , mashhad , merv , olot , sarkahs , turkmenabat. May 10, at am. Martin Hellwagner says:. May 11, at pm. May 14, at am. November 23, at am. November 23, at pm. Leave a comment Cancel reply. Search for:. Create a free website or blog at WordPress. Comment Reblog Subscribe Subscribed. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website. Design a site like this with WordPress.

Tabas, Gonabad, Mashhad

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We plan to stop for gas and then at the site of operation Eagle claw disaster, which is km from Tabas. The views of the desert change every hour and it is harsh but beautiful. First get out of the old city. There is a marker on the highway and then m away a fenced collection of the remains of the Operation Eagle claw debacle. Our hotel is small cabins that are very nice and most importantly has good air con. The rest of the place seems almost abandoned or have finished we can not tell, but someone had big plans. We were all so baked we got into the room showered and passed out for 4 hours. It had cooled off to 39 at 7 and we drove into town to find an open place to eat for of course kebab! Across the street is a huge shrine that takes up a city block. I must wear a chador and of course they are located at the exact opposite entrance to where we were. Long walk with Reza to get the green on. Massive and very beautiful shrine to one of the other brothers of the shrine in Shiraz. The plan was to get going early after the heat of yesterday, but at least we only have km to go to Gonabad. We fueled up and then headed out. It was nice to spend the day on a 2 lane secondary road as most of the roads here are 4 lane highways straight thru the desert. We planned to make one stop only if we found shade half way. The desert goes on and on, but it is much cooler today and the worst was It was as cool as 28 in the hills. We stopped in Ferdos for a drink and an ice cream and were mobbed with people with all kinds of questions for us, requests for photos, and invitations to their homes for cold drinks. We did press on, but had been told there was a nice oasis about 20 km before Gonabad in Kakhk. We were again stopped by the police who wanted to the the documents that Reza has to make us official. We arrived to the park and it was packed as today is a holiday and Ramadan is over. We pulled thru the gates and parked in the first shaded area. We were completely mobbed with people. This involved getting the gate unlocked so we could ride up past the falls. Initially we parked at a spot we thought was the top and again were were totally mobbed with people wanting photos. This amount of attention is good and bad. It can be very overwhelming. I would certainly not want to be famous after this small taste. The number of people who wanted a photo with the women who rides a bike with there then usually crying baby was amazing. We stopped at the gate to look at the old water mill and Reza had to stay with the bikes to make sure they did not get knocked over in the excitement. Then Mehdi invited us to his home for a cold drink. Such a lovely family. They insisted we stay for dinner, offered us showers, the use of the washing machine and even to sleep there. It was 4 pm so we agreed to go to the hotel clean up and rest and then return for dinner and a birthday party. The hotel is the only one in town and is quite sketchy. To be fair it was cooler at 1 am when we arrived back and actually quite cool all night and we slept well. There was a cake shop near by and we got 2 kg of cake to take to the party. The whole family was invited and as dinner was not ready at 8 we went into the village to tour around. The meal was really amazing and everyone pitched in to help. Then there was cake, sparklers and dancing to end this amazing night. Now it was birthday party time for Pouria who was turning 11!! Both he and Amir Ali 13 speak English very well. These two boys are very intelligent and well educated. I would love to see what they will do with their lives. Amir Ali wants to be a neurosurgeon! Today is the last real day in Iran we have km to Mashhad. The ride was thru the desert and semi desert, but much cooler with the lowest at 26 and the highest at The last part was a curvy canyon road and over the mountains. Arriving to the city the traffic was very fast and erratic, but once we were on the city streets it was actually not bad. We have taken to leading in the city since following the guide who will not use his GPS, but keeps stopping for directions is very challenging. Iranian drivers in general are best described as oblivious. We arrived about 1 and Trevor went out to get oil to service his bike. He hit the jackpot on the moto shop since they had the old he wanted, a rear tube, and a cooling bike seat cover. We took a cab the 2 km to the shrine and arrived at prayer time. It was packed with pilgrims. The shrine is massive and takes up about 2 city blocks. Think of this with thousands of people here for prayer. It was quite a sight. We walked back to the hotel and planned an early exit in the morning. The guide at 10 pm says to us by the way the border you said you wanted to cross at you can not as your LOI specifies a different one. This is much farther east and would mean a km backtrack to our planned destination of Ashgabat. They also did not inform us that the transit visas they arranged also specified the exit border, which is due north of the entry. This makes the trip to Ashgabat and then the Door to hell at Darvasa impossible, Oh well plans change and you have to be flexible. I really envy you guys. My most rewarding goldwing venture was from Wisconsin to Costa Rico and back. With no knowledge of Spanish, the boarder crossing were real interesting. I had a wing in Slovakia for 4 years and through a friend in Budapest who belonged to the Rotary club, we were hoping to do the silk road and I obtained a visa for Iran. Your email address will not be published. Your email:. World Wide Ride. Skip to content. This entry was posted in Iran. Bookmark the permalink. July 28, at am. Daniel says:. July 29, at am. Yes 4 hour border crossings with Spenglish only!! The good old days!!! 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