West Kazakhstan

At Tbilisi airport before flying to Kazakhstan, I had about four hours before my flight, so I was just sitting there using some wifi when I met Joris, a French man cycling around the world. He was the first bike tourist I had met since my first day in Turkey and it was great to have someone to navigate the airport with.

Once check-in opened, we were both worried our bikes would be too heavy, not knowing what they weighed or what the maximum weight would be. Fortunately, neither did the check-in staff, and they were fine with mine weighing in at 38.8kg.

There was a lot of turbulence on the flight, with it being lightning in Georgia when we left. Fortunately, I slept the whole way, and we landed at 2am in Aktau.

Our first task upon arrival was to reassemble our bikes, much to the amusement of the local Kazakh taxi drivers who watched with curiosity. My initial plan was to find a quiet corner in the airport and sleep until sunrise, but Joris shared that the airport was situated in the middle of nowhere. So, we pedaled a kilometer away from the terminal, finding a spot to camp amid the desert’s solitude.

With the morning sun, we cycled into the city of Aktau, greeted by the Caspian Sea and an opportunity to swim. The city itself felt very empty but this could be due to it being the Constitution Day of Kazakhstan a national holiday.

For the first time on my journey, I had to purchase water, as it seemed that bottled water was the only option in this desert landscape. Furthermore, with the towns approximately 100km apart we had to stock up on the essentials.

The next three days were all spent very similarly, cycling through the desert and stopping anytime we could find any shade to rest and eat. Finding places to camp was incredibly easy; just cycling a few hundred meters from the road, but every night we’d get a beautiful sunset across the flat baron landscape.

One day, a friendly truck driver offered us a lift. Having cycled nearly 90km in a straight line, we welcomed the respite. Our bikes nestled in the truck bed, with us squeezing into the front cabin, sharing the limited space with our generous driver. To avoid unwanted attention from the police, I had to lie on the bed keeping my head down as there were only two seats in the front. After a 140km ride, we disembarked in the final Kazakh town before the Uzbekistan border, where we once again found ourselves camping beneath the desert stars.

The following day marked our entry into Uzbekistan. The Kazakh border was formidable, with long queues and strict procedures. However, our status as tourists afforded us preferential treatment, to the clear displeasure of fellow travelers. On the Uzbek side, we underwent thorough checks, including X-rays of every item packed on our bikes – a minor inconvenience compared to the motorists forces to remove every bag from their cars before passing them all through the scanner.

In the 4 days spent in Kazakhstan I feel like I didn’t really learn anything about this country. The people were friendly but we didn’t communicate with them any more than “where are you from?” and “where are you going?”. I found the desert to be amazing and was in ore anytime I’d look out to see nothing on the landscape and also amused anytime I’d see a camel. The food has been different and I’ve mostly been eating tinned fish, loads of biscuits and even some horse milk. I’ll hopefully be returning to Eastern Kazakhstan in October if it hasn’t got too cold in the northen hemisphere by then!