Assey Plateau – Kazakhstan June 6 2012 (Part III) Final

I woke up sore and hungry…and not to mention thirsty. I slept okay for the most part, as there were no storms but still had a bit of panic sitting in my gut.

It’s one of those mornings where I pull myself out of my bag and climb out of the tent apprehensively…wondering what the hell am I doing with my life.

Standing outside barefoot  knowing the heat is about to start pounding down,  I debate of what choice to make. I use my camera lenses to attempt to see into the mountains ahead. There are no signs of a road going down the plateau and there actually seems to be something going over the range and ridges. According to the map I should NOT be doing this. I was given directions that I should be passing a home, the only home on the plateau, and was given a DVD from the cyclist to deliver. The DVD had films of previous cyclists that had done this route. This house has not been spotted yet and I’m pretty sure I’ve veered off route – again.
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I plop my heavy bum down on the ground, alternating my view from my feet to the mountains. Slowly turning my head around the terrain…this is usually when I give a big exhale of air and tell myself to get my lazy self up and get my shit together. Slipping on my new sandals that I’ve already begin to tear because of walking through the broken terrain, I take a walk to the road to see what lies up ahead.

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Within just a couple of yards it begins a descent and even without the bike I begin to slip in the tiny rocks on the red clay earth. It’s dry, it’s broken, and I have no idea how I’m going to make it but it’s what I should do. My gut tells me to carry on…the road must lead SOMEWHERE. Or whatever this is, it’s hard to describe it as a road at all, but rather some poor excuse for jeep tracks. I’m going to have to go slow and push the bike for the most part. Most importantly I have to get going because the summer heat is going to boil me alive.

I begin the day around 11:00 and ride for a short bit, with a bit of walking and slipping, and within 15 minutes I spot the small house. It’s leveled out terrain with some trees and flowing water around it. Lying my bike down, I deliver the disc with a smile…hoping for an invite in, at least for some water and breakfast. I haven’t had a bite to eat and I’m running low on water. He looks at me in confusion, with my horrible explanation in Russian. It’s not worth it and I continue on.

As I’m leaving his home and yard area, there is water flowing under some trees. I see some animals around and I question the cleanliness of it. It seems stagnant in areas and I pass it.

The terrain is still holding it’s level but the trees immediately disappeared and I’m surrounding by red clay and cliffs…and it’s getting HOT.

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This route confirms that it’s much more difficult going down than going up. There are spots I have to get off the bike because braking doesn’t work and all it does is slide me down the road with the back wheel trying to go faster than the front, causing minor spin outs. Either I’m sliding on my bike or I’m holding onto my bike walking her down and slipping nearly the entire way down. Of course I remain calm, not a peep from my mouth, cool as a cucumber…knowing I have to do this and there is no point in throwing tantrums or cursing.

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Traveling solo teaches you, and you come to realize, that outward expression of emotions is only for the benefit? of others that surround you. There is no reason to curse, or scream, or even laugh…when you area all A L O N E…AND NO ONE KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE…let alone hear a peep that comes out of your mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I still get a mad woman cackle of laughter every now and again, and of course a few tears here and there, but I see it as more of a release of emotions for stability.

I’m able to ride a whopping 2-3 kilometers up a slight incline to find myself on another type of road conditions. Things are beginning to look a bit more hopeful. I see a small abandoned house and an old sign signifying a resort or hotel. It’s obviously no longer used, or no one is home. I take a break to take a look at from where I’ve come from. There are storms clouds that are beginning to roll in and I’m so thankful as the overcast will cut down on the heat.

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After years on the road and in the sun, I’ve started to become very aware of how much of my skin is exposed. You’ll probably notice through images from the beginning to the end that I begin to wear more clothes, even in hotter climates. It was in Tibet that I learned that I actually stay cooler with clothes covering my skin. I also prefer not to show much skin to locals, as a single woman. I’m of the camp where when it comes to covering, the more the better. You can’t ever go wrong with that choice.

After a brief rest looking at the past I begin to carry on to the future. What I ride into becomes glorious. I can’t believe my eyes…so much that I have to sit and stare into whats to come. A descending plateau, a lake ahead, and amazing road conditions for me to pick up great speed. Knowing that I’m going to be riding with a shit eating grin down the entire way, I take my time to have a little snack and breathe.

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And a little bicycle and girl pin-up photo for you folks.
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I descend fast, hard, and with a smile the entire time. It’s less than 5km then it levels out and I’ve encountered some of the worst terrain to get through…even worse than Tibet. It’s rough, it’s tough, and I even tumble a few times. I bust my bottom at least a few times from my feet slipping out from under me and the bike nearly coming down upon me.

The most fearful moment is when I’m walking the bike along the “road” that is breaking off and there is a 2 meter drop off. I debate how to walk her by as I think I’ll have more control on her right side. As I’m right handed I usually always walk the bike on the left side. So I move over to the right, very precariously, and begin to walk past the ledge. The bike slips because of the incline and before I know it the bike is on top of me with the wheels just a few cm from the edge.

Holding onto the bike I crawl out from under her and drag her on the side to get enough space to lift her back up to safety. The problem is my feet are slipping in the fine gravel and can’t find my footing. This goes on for nearly five minutes knowing that the bike CAN NOT slip off the road. With a few huffs and puffs and a heave and a ho…we are both up. Although I’m sweating much more profusely than her.

It’s the moments after these moments where I smile…sometimes just from within. It’s these treacherous and challenging moments that I can say, “look what I did…on my own”. It’s the challenges throughout this entire tour that has brought joy to me, made my heart fuller, and a reminder that I am a “warrior”. (A name Chris Alexandre would give me). Yes, I cried for a few seconds yesterday when I thought I may be lost, just 24 hours earlier…but then pull my self up and my bike to say, “Look at what I can do!!!”

It must be at least 10km of this terrain before I can begin the final descent to the lake.

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Well folks, that’s it. In retrospect, this was the last great ride of my tour. The last great few days of solitude, thinking, feeling, and looking at myself and finally realizing what I’ve accomplished. There was something about this route that embedded who I’ve become and who I finally am. It was a pivotal point in my tour, my exploration, and the finalization of seeing the love for myself.

It was a moment to make peace of an ended relationship; to realize I’m strong enough to carry on alone.

It was a moment to be thankful for the people in my life that have helped make this whole thing possible.

It was a moment to let go of so much of the past and know what ever the future carries for me, I can overcome it…anything.

It took me over a year to write this entry because it carries such strong emotions, many that I still have difficulty expressing. It’s strange what a few days alone, with a bike, can do for the soul.

If you haven’t seen it, this is a short film I put together of my time out there, featuring a song from Cat Power. The music I was listening to during this ride was the Kings of Leon…I had enough albums to keep quite entertained for the few days. I would enter Uzbekistan on June 9th 2012.

Assey Plateau, Kazakhstan June 2012 from Moseman on Vimeo.

Assey Plateau – Kazakhstan June 5 2012 (Part II)

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The previous night, there was another thunderstorm including strong winds and lightning. There was minimal hail and would of slept outside of the tent but could see the weather changing before sunset. Lightning frightens me just a smidgen, just hoping not to get hit as I’m next to the biggest chunk of steel within 5 kilometers and higher than the weather station heading back down into the plateau. Considering the weather, and a bit of cold nipping at my toes, I sleep fairly well. It was the eve of my 33rd birthday. Sleeping in, as I can hear a bit of rain speckle against my tent.

I step out from my tent and this is my view back down into the valley that I’m supposed to be on. Honestly I couldn’t have asked for a better campsite, a better place to recognize another year passing and the place to start with new.

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As I stand looking down into the glorious plateau I see an Eagle flying overhead. He hovers above me for what seems like minutes and then swoops down. It’s as if he dancing for me. Watching him swoop and swing and flow through the sky, I see the similarities in the two of us. Two lonesome souls, enjoying the beauty of the mountains, the warmth of the sun, the emotion that comes when you really REALLY acknowledgement of living life the way you WANT to. There have been moments like these that I wish I had someone to share it with but today…the depth it sat with me, it would of been pointless to have someone around. I soaked in the moment, tracing the bird in the sky and knowing we are both lonesome hunters. Chasing while never having a predictable path; onlookers may see us as confused or lost at times but we are very aware of what we are searching for. (You can see a film on the Media page that includes footage from the Eagle.)

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I ride down from the ridges to the weather station. The rain begins to blow in so I sit out under an awning for about an hour waiting out the wind and hail. Hail hurts, by the way. It hurts a lot when riding and I did it in Tibet and I avoid it if I can.

When I get down to the plateau and the route I was supposed to take, there is a valley of fresh streams and rolling hills. I don’t get very far until I hit the edge of storm clouds.

The storm passes and I move on…taking my time to not catch up with it again. The day turns into a gorgeous cool day with bright blue skies. The terrain switches up every now and again, and I continue having to cross streams and ice melt. Nothing major and keeps it exciting. There is a brief moment where I have some stones and rocks along some water but for the most part I have nice packed down jeep tracks. At times I can go nearly 35km/hour and it feels great. I watch my shirt flapping in the breeze by the looks of my shadow to my front right.

I pass a few groups of yurts, some wave and others just come out to hold down their dog. It’s been one of the best day of riding since the Tibetan plateau. At one point I pick up so much speed down a single track, I come to a dip in the track and slam my crotch up against the head tube when braking. I collapse to the ground moaning and groaning. If I had been a man I may have lost the whole unit; I can feel immediate swelling and know it’s going to be black and blue in just a few hours. No tears, just a lot of rolling around on my back with my hands holding onto my crotch.

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I pass an abandoned shop and two dogs come out to greet me. Two big dogs…big hairy, shaggy shepherd type of dogs. They come right up to me, wagging their tails, and sniff all around me. There is no one around. We talk for a little while and I even bend over to pet them. This is the first! Dogs that want to hang out. With both dogs standing in front of me of the tracks, they turn around to look at me as if they are waiting to lead me. The two dogs lead me for a half a kilometer, one stops and the other leads me for another kilometer. He stops and goes to the side and I see that he watches me as I move along on my own.

Coming to a river crossing, that I don’t remember hearing about in my directions, I come to a dead standstill. The road on the other side is nearly non-existent with a steep incline and now questioning the entire route. It’s as if the tracks just stop to the water.

There is a yurt on my side with a woman gathering water from the river. I’m not sure if it’s even a river…but it’s high. I walk with the bike a quarter of a kilometer downstream in hopes to find a crossable area. I’m able to get across with the water skimming along the bottom of my panniers. If it had been much higher it wouldn’t have been possible. Most notable was the speed – nothing in comparison to what I would find in Tajikistan.

After crossing and getting to the other side, I push my bike up the steep bank and find one of the worst conditions of roads I have ever seen. It’s turned into loose gravel and nearly no trace of human travel. For the next 2 hours I have to push my bike up and up and up with more than often the road crumbling off ledges. I slip under the bike at least twice. I continue to take out my map and check because there is a river running to my left, to the North and it doesn’t seem to be following the road according to the map.

I’m really beginning to feel like I’m lost. Really. Honestly. The road continues to get higher, the sky darker, and the road is nearly nothing. I’m tired of slipping in the gravel and if there isn’t gravel the road has deep crevices where it’s beginning to erode and within a few years will be in the river rushing 40 meters below me.

There is the sense of panic beginning to take over me. I only have enough water for the evening and early morning. I pull over…I should just stop. I drop my bike down and look ahead, then behind, and I begin to cry hard with “Where the FUCK AM I?!?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO?!?!” After 15 seconds I shake myself and remind myself, “Ellen, you are wasting valuable water, there is nothing you can do right now…get a grip, quit wasting water and energy…eat, go to bed, figure it out tomorrow.” This would be the first, and last time, I would weep for fear of being lost. Even when I was traversing through Tibet without a real map, I never had this feeling. There is something about mountains that freak me out a bit more than open plains and plateaus. Also, there is something very different between Tibetans and Kazakhs.

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I would make camp here, as the photo is looking back from where I came from. The pasta I would make would end up being too salty and most of it chucked because of being inedible. Definitely one of the worst meals I have prepared myself during tour. Debating on drinking my water supply, I took most of it down except for a small liter. Hopefully, I would find something tomorrow and if not, I guess I could go back to the river crossing and collect more water.

Today was one hell of a day, a whole mixed bag of emotions. Welcome to the first day of 33, Moseman.
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Assey Plateau – Kazakhstan June 3-4 2012 (Part I)

I had left off the story after cycling to Lake Balkhash…and then took a bus back to Almaty because I decided to not try and die on the desert steppe next to a salt lake. In Almaty, I stayed with a fellow American that had lived there for quite awhile. Through “warmshowers”, I had met another fellow that helped me find a nice bike shop for repairs and plan for a little trip to the Assey Plateau. On the “Media” page you can watch the video entitled “Assey Plateau” of footage I took during these few days.

The first attempt (May 31), I had ridden for a day from Almaty. While riding around the city I had been having difficulties with punctures. From what I could see, it looked like the spokes were coming through and tearing open the tubes from the bottom. What was even unfortunate was the patches didn’t seem to hold.

Puncture #1 was right at a turnoff to head towards the plateau. This little guy INSISTED on helping me. No, I do not promote child labor.
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I make pretty good time after this puncture; a bit of rolling hills and then a little bit of down. Did make an ice cream stop and purchased some naan and other miscellany snacks to take to the plateau.

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Puncture #2. Well, I couldn’t repair it and blew off 4 patches before deciding to throw everything in the back of a car and pay $30 to get back to Almaty. It was very evident my spokes were eating my tubes. I now only had 1 tube left…and the sun is setting.

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After fussing with the bike and adding two cheap rubber rim strip tape and lining the rim with electrical tape x2, I head back out on June 3rd. Two days before my 33rd birthday. I had promised myself to spend my birthday the way I enjoy the most, alone in some amazing place.

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I take the bus about 20km before I had turned back the previous time. The weather is ominous…no rain, yet.

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There is about 30km from the bus station until the unmarked turnoff to the plateau. I only knew where it was by the mileage and the landmarks that were given to me by one of the Almaty pilots, Taz, that lives in the capital.

I am now on a nearly single land country road with minimal homes and some shepherds. By the looks of the road and the direction, I may be at the base of the mountains by nightfall. I collect water from a fresh spring and try to find a place to sleep for the night before the rain comes down.

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You’ll notice I am only carrying two panniers, as I had left a lot of my gear back in Almaty. There is no reason to carry double the weight for only a few days.
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The route at this point seems very similar to a National Park in the States. The trees begin to enclose around the road; the road begins to incline and become more narrow. It begins to sprinkle and because of the weather it’s getting dark much earlier than I had expected. To my surprise, I find a campsite next to large stream and a rock cliff. It will be my only campsite of my entire tour. I am usually very apprehensive about camping next to water because of the noise. Not so much about flash flooding, but because I can’t hear visitors over the sound of the rapidly moving water. But I take it anyhow. It’s beginning to thunder and lightening and decided I’d rather be dry for the night. This was actually one of the first lighting storms I camped in. It lit up the entire sky and the thunder bounced around the mountains.

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Morning, when everything is beginning to dry.
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A view of the water I camped next to. I slept to the left of it. It’s a morning of spotty rain mixed with warm sunshine when the clouds part. I have faith it will clear up.
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A look ahead.
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There is only about 15km of broken tarmac before I hit loose gravel and rocks. I was warned that the condition of the road would become pretty tough. Unfortunately the incline on the loose gravel caused me to get off and push. Little would I know that because of the lack of roads, I would be doing a lot of pushing. Descending the plateau, it would be more like slipping and crawling out from under my bike as it slips off trails. This would become one of the toughest terrains yet, but one of my most memorable experiences. It’s really one of the last times I felt so damn free and alive. There is something about being alone on a plateau, anywhere in the world, that really makes you realize how fortunate you are to be there, and living.
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One of the most common questions I get when giving public talks or even discussing this trip, is “What do you do when you get bored?” Like I’ve stated before, I’m not really sure if I know what “bored” feels like. I can do almost anything to keep myself entertained. As a child I used to get in so much trouble for day dreaming in school. Well, I’ve kept up the habit and if I could become a professional at sitting and dreaming, well…you get it. The plateau is a short ride and I took extra time to just really enjoy being out there alone, with less of a load than I usually carry.

Right before noon, I am higher than the tree line and everything opens up. The ascent up to the plateau really begins, the clouds part, and the warm sun is beating down on me. I see pastures, rolling hills, yurts, shepherds, livestock, and the tops of snow topped peaks. I am getting anxious of what waits for me at the top…it brings back memories of the previous summer that I spent in Kham, Tibet.

I’m greeted by a nice shepherd and a young boy. They must of seen me coming as they rode down the hillside to say, “Hello”. They were quite happy to hear I was an American, and not a Russian.

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From the looks of the map I only go up this one pass and I’ve arrived to the plateau. The map is an old Russian map and the “roads” are questionable once I get to the top of the pass.

During the ride up the pass I come by a herd of horses. I walk over to not spook any of them and snap a few photos. They begin to move but a few actually approach me and start checking me out. I have a couple get closer than a meter to me. At the top of the pass I spot some pretty adorable cows and horses; awarding them with the “cutest cows of tour”. They approach me like the horses but even more odd they FOLLOW ME on my bike! Over the past couple of months I’ve noticed I am having less problems with animals. I’m wondering if they sense something about me…perhaps I am becoming more like them than I can imagine. I no longer spook animals and they look and approach out of curiosity. Wondering what has changed that allows animals to feel safe and comfortable around me. I feel no different but obviously something has changed that animals and I have some sort of connection.

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Making it to the top of the pass and now it’s just full, luscious, green plateau that lies ahead. Of course doing what I love to do, and do best, sit and enjoy the moment. Realize how fortunate I am to be seeing and living such a gorgeous moment. A moment that I could never describe in words on a blog. Perhaps that is why I haven’t written about this ride yet; it was just such a great few days that writing it down could never do it justice.

I hit a point where I have to make a choice on route. To my right, East-Southeast, there is a weather station that heads towards the mountain ridge. My map is questionable with this and I never heard anything on directions with the weather station. It is marked on the map. If I were to head towards the weather station, I would probably have to go over the ridge and head a little South.
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To the the left, or rather, directly in front of me facing East-Northeast is an open plateau with jeep tracks. The route to the weather station does have a road so I choose the road.

There is a road that leads up to the weather station but then disappears. I am then left with a deep jeep tracks in the rich black soil up towards the ridge. I’m really not sure if I’m going the right direction but continue on. It’s beautiful up here and what a place to spend the eve of my birthday. I’m feeling so amazing, refreshed, and really back to me…I take some time to celebrate the past year.
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The road and tracks disappear and I look back. I can see a half a dozen motorbikes followed by a jeep take a different route from the weather station. Up over some hills, with great speed, and then back down in the valley I had already passed. I will push on.

I push my bike for 3 kilometers through pasture, with occasional stones that may have been a driveway. Arriving to the base of the ridge I now know there is no passing it. There are remnants of a yurt camp, and it looks like people bring their Land Rovers up here to wash them in the ice melt. Leaving my bike behind, and camera, I climb half way up the ridge to take a look around. Take a deep breath, after catching it, and reassure myself it’s okay and I need to head back. There is no way going over the ridge and it’s been awhile since any Land Rover or motorbike has attempted over the ridge.

Walk down, pick up the bike, and backtrack. I usually HATE THIS…but this time it was down and had quite a beautiful world to look out at. There is a storm blowing in so I decide to set up camp and call it an early night. At the altitude, I know it’s going to be chilly and I want to be sure everything is set, and put away, before the storm comes in. I cook some pasta and add some delicious taco flavouring sent all the way in from Mom. It’s a fine fine meal.

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The sunset is breathtaking…perhaps the best I’ve seen since being in Tibet. Actually, the whole experience reminds me of Tibet. Maybe this is what is causing all these feelings and happiness. Guessing which routes to take, dodging storms, a little hail here and there, occasional nomads…simple life. It’s places like these that I always say, “I could die here and be happy.” Perhaps that sounds a bit macabre…but until you’ve been somewhere physically, mentally, and emotionally where you can sit down and say, “Wow…this is…”. There are no words to describe it. I can’t type anything here to explain what it’s like.

It’s been a hell of a way to say farewell to 33 and beginning 34.

Kazakhstan May 14, 15…Gone Fishin’ (Continued)

I wake up in the early morning and the couple is still sleeping.

Around 11 they wake up and Jalabad heads out.

I spend the day with the girl, as she does laundry and other stuff around the apartment. She tells me how she gets so bored at home and how here husband just leaves for the day.

We talk about possibly going to Astana. A tentative plan is to take a bus to Balhash, leave my bike at her gramma’s and then go to Astana for a few days. Why not?

My plans were to leave today, as Jalabad said he would drive me further. I’m getting a little impatient because I want to get back on the road and out of this depressing situation. Also, I don’t want massages offered to me with out the offer.

I do feel sorry for the wife, she seems so sad and in such an awful situation.

Around 3 Jalabad returns home with his fishing buddy and I say, “I have to leave.” They begin to show concern and telling me about “banditos”. And how I’ll get raped on the route to Balhash. They promise to get me on a bus the next morning. Okay, whatever…whatever.

Once I agree to this Jalabad and his friend step out, leaving me in front of the television with some movies. The wife telling me to nap. I take up the offer.

Later, she joins me in the living area to continue watching some Russian dubbed movie. The hilarious thing about Russian dubbed movies is there is the same man…just reading the script with no voice inflection – completely monotone. For men and women actors.

The electric goes out for a little while.

Eventually Jalabad returns home and he and I sit in the kitchen for a little while together. He explains to me that his wife is a little weird in the head, stating the age difference of about 48 years. He has been married previously, wife and kids living in Almaty. I’m not sure how accurate this translation is, but it seemed there may have been some documents preventing him from seeing them.

Again, we have boiled chicken, onions, and pasta. Of course, with white bread with mayo and ketchup on it.

I reside to the living room and they continue their evening marijuana smoking. Jalabad later shows me the “plants” he is trying to grow…and I have to break him the bad news but I don’t think that is marijuana.

Later, brushing my teeth, I bust the faucet and have to call them in, holding the tap. If I were to let go the water would spray straight to the ceiling. They both work on it and can’t fix it, but I arrive with some zip ties and the problem is solved.

Falling asleep around 10, I’m left undisturbed throughout the night.

Kazakhstan May 14, 15…Gone Fishin

Breaking down camp well before 6 am, I pass through a small town. Picking up minimal supplies, like candy, along with some ice cream for breakfast.

It’s been close to a week since my last shower and I saw a gas station/truck stop that seemed to offer something of the sort. But, it either wasn’t open that early or just not open at all.

I ride through the barren steppe with a headwind until about 11 when a blue, 2 door Lada pulls up next to me.

There are two men in front, a bit older, and they are extremely friendly and waving at me. Asking me where I’m from and they are even happier to hear I’m an American. We wave goodbye and they move ahead.

They stop about 200 meters ahead.

I’m greeted by two men and an old tiny Kazakhstan flag. They seem so excited to meet me and so welcoming I can’t help smiling during the entire conversation.

He tells me they are going fishing in Lake Balhash and I am invited to come along. Them miming that I’ll throw my bike on the car and we’ll all go together. It’s only 11am but, if you’ve been following this journey for awhile now, you know I rarely turn down offers of any sort. Well, I do turn down the offers for sex…

One man tells me his wife is in the back of the car and this is the confirmation that I shouldn’t have too many problems.

He pops the trunk of the tiny 2 door Lada and there is a tiny girl sitting in the back with reflective aviator sunglasses on. We exchange “hellos”…she doesn’t look Kazakh or Russian, but she does appear to be very young. As she moves around in the area of the hatchback, for me to put my bags in the back, I catch a glimpse of her eyes behind the sunglasses.

Holy F*$K! What am I getting into?

Her eyes are nearly swollen shut and the skin dark purple. It’s the worst black eyes I’ve ever seen and I try not to look too much. I cringe from sympathy pains as I throw my bags into the back, being engulfed by the smell of fish.

They tell me to sit in the passenger seat by I insist on sitting in the back with the wife.

We head off the road and throw sand tracks within just a few minutes. I’m trying to settle my nerves, as I’m having flashbacks of the perverted police officer in the Gobi. Okay, these people aren’t intoxicated, friendly, and it’s daylight. I’m trying to make mental notes of the tracks just in case I have to make a run for it. We are heading East, further and further from the main road but I can keep my orientation by the power lines and the city to the South along the lake.

We pass wild horses through the sand, listening to Hip Hop being blasted through the Lada. I’m forced into the front seat, as a guest. The heater is also blasting on me.

At one point Jalabad, the driver, jumps out and then jumps back in with a small bouquet of wild flowers. For me? Yes. Okay, this is uncomfortable, what about your wife?

It’s about a 15 minute ride through the sand until we arrive at a tiny shack on the banks of a sparkling turquoise lake. We get out of the car and my senses are filled with the smell of salt and dried fish…and the sun beating down on me.

There is an old man at the shack and a very old aluminum boat.

The two men from the car and the wife begin preparing the boat. It’s slid off the trailer and we begin leaving the bank, the 4 of us.

My seat is an old 2×4 set across the front. The driver picks up speed and I’m bouncing all over the place, attempting to secure my camera.

We arrive to the first net in the middle of the lake. As the men begin pulling the net to grab the fish, the wife is in the back scooping out the water that leaks in.

The men toss fish from the front to the back, barely missing my head and hers.

We continue checking nets for about the next 2 hours. The leak is peaceful, and calm, and curious birds all along the way. There are fish I’d never seen before. I watch the wife, behind my sunglasses, sticking her finger in the eye of one of the fish. Not as cruelty, but I saw it as a curiosity, a playfulness.

The driver of the Lada and boat…the leader. His name is “Jalabad”.

Fishing partner and wife.

We come back in and dock the boat. There is a jeep there with one police officer and 2 other men. They are talking to the old man that lives in the fishing shack. The men from the boat join in and I can tell the conversation is about me.

The wife and I go sit in the Lada and wait for the men. As we are completely ignored. A giant bee flies into the car and startles her from her sleep. It’s hot in the sun…I want to go, I want to get out of the sun.

As we are speeding through the sand, I am invited for tea. I’m in the front seat, with the wife squeezed between us. Wife gets a smile across her face and she puts in extra effort with the invite to come to her home.

The first thought to my mind is, “If my presence will keep him from beating the shit out of her…well, I ‘ll go.” If she were to be punched a few more times, she would probably lose the eyeball. But, here I am making assumptions.

What I do notice is both eyes are black, the worst one being her right eye, and her husband is right handed…along with a big ring on it. She also has dozens of scratches all over her face and neck. This is just weird, men usually don’t beat and scratch women.

(I wish I could remember her name.)

After unloading the bike and gear, Jalabad leaves to get rid of the fish and I spend time with the wife. She makes me Nestle hot chocolate and adds a shit ton of extra sugar.

She walks into the kitchen with her hand covering her eye and signals to me not to look. I give a hand signal to dismiss, it’s not my business and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

We sit in the kitchen, the apartment empty except for a few necessities. A new fridge, washer/dryer, and in the living room a bed, 2 chairs, a tv, and countless DVDs. Their bedroom closed off.

Within 15 minutes we are scribbling on paper and drawing photos to communicate. Also using a Russian English dictionary we are able to get simple questions and answers across. She had quit covering her eye and tells me it was Russian girls in Balhash. She is actually half Korean and half Russian, 20 years old and Jalabad is 46, his second marriage and has 2 children.

Jalabad returns home and we have dinner together. Boiled chicken, pasta, and onions…all boiled together. Of course with bread, topped with mayonaise and ketchup. Not my choice but my hosts insist it’s delicious…I’ll say differently.

They escort me to the living room, throw some awful American movie in the DVD player with a hilarious Russian overdub. It’s just a man translating the movie…he does it all…like reading from a script. I’m mostly entertained by the Russian Sprite commercials.

I’m under the impression I will be getting a ride tomorrow, so I settle in for the night and not think too much about my next step.

Jalabad and his wife are in the other room. Finally, I smell marijuana and realize they are getting high. Whatever, none of my business.

It’s getting very late and they enter the room. They have an idea and I’m pulled into the kitchen. Jalabad makes a sketch of me getting bathed by his wife. Um, no thanks…I can pour water over myself and don’t need creep fest 2012. I thank them for the offer, laughing, and say I’m okay.

I’m in bed half asleep, in the living room and I can hear the wife go to bed. Jalabad is switching off the lights and I’m very aware of what may happen next. I’m lying with my face to the wall and the lights are off. Within a few seconds, I have hands rubbing my legs…I turn over and see Jalabad kneeling at the foot of my bed and I kick him away simultaneously.

Damn Sex Pests, everywhere!

To be continued…

Kazakhstan May 13 2012

I hit 20,000km around 10am, here.

The South East edge of lake Balhash around noon. It’s been baby animal season in Central Asia for the past few months.

I had had an early lunch in the town and had been passed by a motorcycle. It had honked at me while passing. Then as I was hunting down lunch, I had taken a double look because I could of sworn it was a woman.

After lunch I’m riding and she passes me and I see her braid hanging out the back of her helmet. God damn I want a motorbike…I bet she is one rad chick.

Nap time. I’m visited by a couple police officers to check on me…along with about a half a dozen of truck drivers and other randoms. I love the bus stops here, besides offering shade and somewhere to sleep, I get to enjoy some nice art and design…from one of my favorite art periods.

The day is spent pushing along the edge of the lake. I’m beginning to see shops on the side of the road selling “pыба” – fish. I can smell the salt from each little shack as I ride by. It’s a nice smoky flavor but I don’t stop to buy any because I’m not sure what standard prices are and I’m not sure how to store it in my bike bags.
There are some hills to the West of the lake that I push my bike behind for camp. It’s about a kilometer from a truck stop that I can see some people and trucks. The mosquitoes are gradually getting worse and worse and I have to constantly shake my whole body while setting up my tent to prevent getting eaten alive. There is no cooking in this area, unless the wind is strong or on the side of the road, where they don’t seem to be that bad. That’s the advantage to the wind of the Steppe, if it’s slight, it will keep the mosquitoes from swarming and there are nasty little flies that also like to go up my nose and in my ears.

I would love to hear from you!