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Nukus buying blow

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Nukus buying blow

This is probably one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, Blazing Saddles. Newly-appointed Sheriff Bart has just ridden into the Western town of Rock Ridge, carrying Gucci-branded saddlebags, looking like a million bucks. I was astounded. The cultural comprehension that this guy had just shown! He must have seen the movie! Looking back now, it is really quite hard to convince myself that the interaction actually occurred. For long stretches of this post, I am just… nowhere. Launched like a sputtering old Lada into a vast desert. I am in Nukus now, the capital of the Qaraqolpak region. Not everywhere in the world is pretty. Not everywhere in the world lends itself to majestic pictures and tales of triumph over mountain passes. Over the last two weeks or so, I crossed Mangystau province in Kazakhstan and Qaraqolpakstan in northwest Uzbekistan. There is nothing remarkable about these regions. There are prettier stretches of road in my immediate plans. There are also many other deserts in Central Asia. I am struggling while writing this post with how to succinctly communicate why this was. It all comes down to an overwhelming frustration with the inaccessibility and desolation of the whole region. Back to Beyneu! Beyneu turned out to be less than the horror story that I had been fearing. An unexpectedly pleasant stay. The ride to the border, though was the first of a series of demoralizing slogs. A couple of long days into a headwind to start things off. A note as well on the road from Beyneu to about km past the border. Oh my goodness. The wet Ustyurt geological name of the region mud that others have found can apparently go die in a fire. And the dry, hard-packed Ustyurt mud that I found can go right along with it. Pictures abound actually one or two, not many people come through here and take pictures of trucks stuck to their axles in mud. The prevailing condition of the road is mostly a desire path. People need to get from Beyneu to the border, so they have gradually worn a route across the steppe. My zippers, on my bike and in my tent, are struggling with a fine dust that just seeps into everything. My face is coated in a few layers of it as well. What was I doing wrong?? Then I started to look around me, to see that there was pretty reliably a car with a flat tire every km as well. Anyways, on to Uzbekistan. To get there, I had to go through Uzbek customs, also in the middle of nowhere. Uzbek borders are known for being notoriously difficult to cross, but this has recently changed for the better. A new e-visa system goes into effect in July for Americans. In short, customs is no longer the hours-long hassle it used to be. It took me maybe 45 minutes, and I was picked out of line as a tourist and ushered through. That being said…. They still really care about pills and other drugs. I had to go through my medical kit and describe the meds I had with me. Mostly innocuous stuff. A multivitamin, altitude meds, Benadryl, etc. The only problem was immodium, and come on, these guys have seen immodium before. My abstention from mind-altering substances is an eternal gift that I would never give up. That part was a lie. Fearing a lengthy customs inspection, I had finished what I can only call a healthy amount of Kazakh vodka the night before in my tent. Plan accordingly. Karakalpakiya has a dirty chaykhana with not much for sale. Jazz lick. Jasliq has a notorious prison, which has been condemned for a broad array of human rights abuses. Truckers pass through, and people like me come through occasionally. Once every summer hundreds of Mongol Rally teams fly through in weird, decorated cars that must look like spaceships. The locals sit around and drink vodka, as evidenced by the absurd amount of broken glass along the side of the road. Qaraqolpakstan is certainly not set up to sustain me for long periods of time, so hitting my daily distance goals became not just a personal desire, but essential to my survival. I try to hit at least 80km a day, but unfortunately 80km can either be a pre-lunch snap or a 7pm-setting-up-camp-as-the-sun-sets grueling ride, depending on the direction of the wind. On this stretch, in the truly remote areas, I unfortunately had more of the latter than the former. That being said, the camping has been divine. But I came prepared, and that part of my setup has worked out remarkably well. Phenomenal desert sunsets, a stunningly bright full moon, and vibrant purple sunrises. Tougher than expected riding, bleaker than expected scenery, but just an incredibly memorable and powerful experience driven by amazing nights spent camped out here in the desert alone. The kind old lady who runs the Jasliq Chaikhana which I kept on mistakenly referring to as the Jasliq Cantina, like Mos Eisley saw me dejectedly return inside after testing the wind the day after I rode in and responded by blowing and miming a headwind. It was not something I wanted to ride in, and so I spent the day hiding out and filling up on Plov. At the same time??? The next day, the wind had abated, and over the next two days I managed to cover a total of km to Nukus. I had a great tailwind the entire second day. I had finally reached the end of this desert, and settled into my second choice and slightly higher priced hotel in the center of town. I reveled in that mix of overwhelming fatigue and accomplishment that I love about this mode of travel. Absolutely drained for the last 50km, I found myself starting to take emotional beats in the podcasts I was listening to pretty hard, and tearing up pretty regularly. It was wild. Things just seemed to carry a little more emotional weight. Water and food availability. There were a few moments at which I considered giving in and hitching. Bent over my handlebars, with nothing but miles and miles of desert around me, tire slowly going flat for the third time in as many days. Qaraqolpakstan has been crossed. This post is getting long. Please send tire patches. Hi Bryan, love the blog. We are just about to leave Beyneu. We wondered how you got your Som, because at the moment we only have USD? Can you buy food to cook anywhere along the road, too, as we are one veggie and one vegan! Like Like. I hope everything went well through Qaraqolpakstan. No more black market needed. Good luck, is all I can say. Meat and Central Asia go together like… meat and Central Asia. Safe travels! Skip to content. Jasliq, inside Qaraqolpakstan. See scale in lower right. Beyneu, the last proper town I was in, over km ago. It even has… oh wait. And when wet, probably unrideable. Do you think they go anywhere useful? There are worse places to break down, though. That being said… Straight cash. A turn in the road! A dustier day. The prison. I strongly advise not visiting or protesting. Nobody will find you. End-of-day delirium and slight disorientation can be a real concern. Unreal sunsets. Moonrise through the dust. A graveyard, and trees. Fertile land. Trying to force myself to take more selfies at times of peak adversity. Share this: Twitter Facebook LinkedIn. Like Loading Leave a comment Cancel reply. Comment Reblog Subscribe Subscribed. Ventures and Adventures. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website.

Nukus buying blow