A Group of Four and Insecurities

So I said goodbye to the family,

it was a stressful morning, i had to go to the bazzar to buy oil and water and find canisters so as not to mix them up and luggage straps, which would have, could, have been fun , i could have spent an afternoon walking around, but no i left it too late and was totallly stressing, as i was running late and then i still had to go the the market for food supplies for the next 2 days of camping.

i was of course chuffed around in a 4x4 by the ever helpful and giving son and as i rushed round filling my basket and failed to keep calm at the confusion at the yogurt counter, he said to me 'i wish i was comming with you' and that was all it took,
'thank you. Thank you, for a minute there i was so tied up in my list and lateness i forgot i was living the dream, i lost site but now i see again thanks for that, i'm ok now.
so with bike packed, photos taken huggs and kisses exchanged and extra chocolate given for my ride, i roed away form yet an other example of the limitless kazakhstan hospitality
it had been a little bit of luxury,but more importantly i just felt like a part of the family rather than a guest in the house,i realized it more after i left, but this goodbye was made much easier by the fact that i knew 12 miles down the road was 3 hellos
i went to the railway station car park to meet the swiss guy i had met via the overland web site, we had already met up the other day to see if our plans could be riden out together and i instantly knew we would get on, he spoke of the 2 austrians who he had met up with.

alarm bells should have gone off when he said they were scared to camp where there was a pot smoking fisherman by the lake, as glenn said 'is there anyone more peacful and less threating than a pot smoking fisherman'

i instantly dubbed them the touratech twins, they were sponsered, had brand new BMW's which were fully loaded with every accessory in the touratech catalogue, on top of that they had sponcsership from Nikon and had a £6000 camera and free orange phones and calls, as well and lap tops, they had everything all given in the name of sponsership.

when i arrived they were banging the hell out of an aliminium pannier with a rubber mallet, they had had a littel accident at the lights, so 1st impresion was ‘oh right they have the touratech but not the touring techinque.' however they were friendly and whne we 4 set off out of town which was another luxury cus i was following them and they were following there sat nav, they can also be followed on google earth and via their website, this was techo riding and on my ebay 2nd hand bike and used and abused everything else i was really once agan the scruff of the crowd. but with so much visual overload it was hard to tell, 4 bikes carrying 8 spare tyres, 4 laps tops 6 phones, web cams helmet cams, moniter screens Sat Navs SLR's compacts we were the flash drivers,
i was finding it very hard to focus my thoughts, as a solo rider i have deep and focused trips into my mind weather i like it or not,. i anerlize reflect and understand, but now i was drowing in a sea of shallow and insipid thoughts, focused on logos, sponsers and equipment i didnt even know existed, i was constantly on camera, from behind and in front, how the hell did i ride into this, i just re realized i was living the dream and now im having it filmed too. and photographed with more megapixles than 20 megaflids and through a lens worth more than my bike and all its contents. it takes me a while to beleive this and glenn (the swiss guy) obviously has the same things going through his helmet too as i see him punch the aiir, we were both one now we are 4.

we were riding to a canyon and at a rest stop 3 Kazak bikers pull up, coming back from a camping and fishing trip , rods like joulsting poles on their bikes, they say they will lead us to a great camping spot on the river inside the canyon and then we are 7.

7 bikes riding the twists and turns of the rocky terrain, how amazing, 15 miles of dirt road all of us with our dusty trails blowing across the bottom of the horrizon. and we are led to the rocky path that leads us down into the canyon, it was so farmilia , on 'the long way round' its where ewan and charley constantly fall off. the austrians will not go down there his tyres one of them says will not do it.

‘not on des wheels not with dis luggage’ ok so thye take us to another place where some vodka drinking watermellon eating kazaks are partying, i walk down the track with one of the Kazak bikers he is so friendly and so open i can see it in his face, he wants us to stay at his place later but we are going the other way, for the first time i am seeing the downside of traveling in a group. decisions are not made easily and compremise can have a high price.i want to camp in the canyon but im a new and lone voice in the group, so we camp in the shade of some rocks on a bit of green under a beautiful sunset , its was perfectly aceptable but knowing there was a big orange canyon 300 feet down that track was a bit frustrating, we cooked and all tryed to outdo each other with what we could produce from out of our paniers, they may have had compressors and super light cooking equipment but i had a chopping board , spactular and cholate ,in fact i may be traveling with out the catalogue of touring accessories but i can function with out a titainum saucepan just as every explorer and adventurer has since the first person thought to him self , 'i wonder whats over there'
i was doing ok on the 'look what i have here' stakes. and whne they say 'man your bike is sooo cool' i think yeah it is isnt it? i made it that way, ride it that way, live with it and love it that way' and im impressed but not envious of what they have and that is a good feeling to go to my sleeping bag with.

Last night lap tops were produced to view the vidios and photos of the days events and first thing in the morning hills are climbed to get reception and texts receive and sent, this is techno camping.
and so next morning me and Glenn (the swiss guy) (you know that now right?) take off our panniers and ride down the path that the people of sponsership seem to have so much trouble with, we are photgraphed as we go down, i just kind of do a controled skid most of the way. and then we ride the bottom of the canyon.

its amazing, steep walls and hanging rocks, and a raging river at our side, yeah we are going to get on just fine, my memeoy card runs out i get the spare one out of my camera case and there in the tiny zipped compartment is my toe ring, i got in india 13 years ago, i took it off a year ago in sweaty california and since then i have looked both sides of the atlantic for it, i knew i put it somewhere safe, and here it is. reunited i cant wait to put it back on.
so glad we came down here and didnt have it denighed us. but in the back of my mind is getting back up again. the are lenses pointing at us and i consentrat, stand on my pegs and i ride up like I’m in totoal control, because i am, my skills have increased quicker than my confidence and my awearness of my abilities. 7 weeks on the bike 7000 miles, of course im going to get better (like my spelling), its called pratice (but its spelt different, probably), i didnt only get out of the canyon but i enjoyed doing it, yeah i want more of this.

loaded up again off we go, video shoots and re takes over various obsticals, its fun but god its slow, another downside of sponsership the obligation to record everything,i dont mind the sitting arround and riding up there and back again and then again in 3's and sitting about in the sun , we only stop for photo and video shoots in sceenic places so even whne im not on camera i can just look around. we meet a couple of french cyclists with smiles as big as the canyon on their 3rd day of a years journey they are fresh, excited and full of anticipation. I feed off there energy, and I don’t even need any extra.
we are heading to the chinnese boarder. see not only do i not have to look at my map i dont have to look in my guidebook either all the research has been done, im just following the camera. we ride through tiny villages that are so uneffected by the progress of modern life, milk churns are pulled on little trolies down the streets, they are pumping there water from communal pumps old men in suits riding donkies and everyone smiles and waves, i want to stop and photgraph and talk and laugh with thme but we ride right through, strange we should be missing such photo oppertunities, but it soon becomes apparent that sceenary is one thing but interaction is not what their trip is about. And in Kazakhstan its what everyone is about, everyone wants to shake ya hand, take ya photo ask where ya from , look at your bike. but oh well i follow.

we reach the bard wire fence which has china the other side of it, up ahead is the last vilage in Kaz but if we want to get to the lakes in the mountains we should turn around to get there before dark. Says touratech twin one who is Rindhard, (and to save me time will be RH from here on out,) oh ok well i guess we will turn around then , but i stay at the back and stop in the village and talk to a boy on a horse and he parks (or what ever ya do with horses when ya not eating them) it next to my bike for photos and brifly i am alone with the locals and the others wait out side the village in the safty of the open space and wait for me. so we head for the mountains and once again we stop and german is spoken and i decide its ok cus i can stay in my thoughts with out distraction . then it is anounced that it looks a bit like rain and we should not go to the lakes and go back to the canyon. what the fuck? its rain thats all and it will pass if it even comes at all. this day is becomming a day of things we nealry saw. i consider going up alone but i want copies of the photos that have been taken today of me riding like a demond out of the canyon.
so i follow again but im not going back to the canyon, i surgest we camp up in the hills. 'you mean off the road?' comes the reply from RH, yes off the road, like your bkes were built to do. and i ride over a few hills as an example incase my surgestion was lost in translation. it is considered and decided to be an ok idea and we then ride away from the hills. im getting a little tired of this. i stay behind, and the others do find a good site , but as i go down the track i have my worst fall so far and am flung off the bike, i'm ok but there is damage to the bike. i get to the palce where they have stoped, too close in my opinion to other inhabitants and while they drink beer i sulkily fix my bike ,its ok but the windscreen had broken a bit and so had the breakleaver protector im also pissed off that riding in a group im still pulling my bike out of a hedge and lifting it up by my self.
whilst im kneelin on the dirt fixing the damage i notice that a little weed plant is growing by my hand. whne i'm done i have a beer lighten up and go to river to wash, there is a field of majauanna , no one had noticed it, ya can smell it as well as see it,
ok this a pretty good spot
i can’t sleep though and spend the night reading my guide book and seeing what we had actually missed today.
the next morning i get up at sunrise and go to the river and wash and shave and enjoy the primative and refreshing way i have started my saturday morning. the current runs strongat knee hight hight and as i wash my hair my pendent falls off my necklace, but i cant betriveit incase i spill my persious Red Ken in the river and waste it. i try a futile attempt to grab at a light coloured shape beheath the water but its just a stone, i grabe for another one and its my pendent , why didnt it drift away down river i dont know, its a little mirical and i totally appriciatge it. then i sit on a rock in the sun and dry off and warm up listen to my ipod and smell the weed plants as the dew evaperates from the pungent leaves . and retie my necklace,

was a great start to the day.
i was worried that i would not be so into my thoughts of the road with so much going on around me, but im finding my self increasingly isolated from the group as german is spoken more and more. this is the worst of both worlds, in a group you dont meeet so many locals but you have company. but in this group im issolated by language and think it could be good that i am not being distracted by needless chatter but infact i am riding with resentment and thats not fun, its pointless, i like all the photos and videos but whats the point if im not smiling,

how the dynamics of the trip have changed. the chalenge has gone, the excitement, the adventure, the interaction wiht the locals,

the austrians seem afraid to intergrate they are abrupt and rude to the constant questions of where are we from. they dont return the waves we get and im wonderfing how badly i need a photgraph of this.
im apointed leaded at we enter the town cus i have a guidebook im supposed to know where the hotle is. i ask a few people but get on a road out of town, but they dont want to turn round there sat nav says theres is another road up ahead, so waht am i leading or not? why continue in the wrong direction lets use some common sence here. we stop for decussion, a guy in a bmw car turns up, perfect english

you have come from almaty eh?

‘er yeah’

I saw you on TV

‘we were on tv?’

Turns out some cameras cought the 4 of us leaving the the town and they made a news item out of it. We are news and not even awear of it.

i ask him where the hotle is and he leads us there, checks us in, insists to the reception we reamin anomious to avoid the authorities getting wind and making a song an dance (litterly) of out arrival. he brings us watermellon and invites us to his house for dinner, but the touratech twins want to write on their website. why write about stuff at the expence of experiancing it? why not go eat with with this welcoming intelgent , happy, inviting man, meet his family, but no we got to a noisy internet cafe and at that point i think fuck it . im done with this group. i tell glen im not going on and to my surpise he is of exactly the same opinion, the challenge has gone and one on the tourtech twins inparticualr is being very irritating .

Its time to say goodbye, ive bought us all beers eariler, i got a little buzz going ,our new friend and tour guide is being so paicent and i’m chatting with him in this enviroment of gamers and bloggers, im hungry and i want another drink i want to see the city and we are sat in virtual hell on a Saturday night. my well practiced now skill of keeping my mouth shut is really paying off. And we are driven to a restraunt which serves big glasses of cold beer and big plates of tasty dead animal.

Perfect

Do we want to go to a night club? Well kind of

do i want to keep drinking? Yes,

do i want to look at women? Yes,

do i want to listen to loud music? Yes

have i got to work tomorrow? No ,

do i need sleep due to insomnia attack last night ? yes. Well i seem to be in favour of it. Ok just one drink, we pay out entry fee, and are unfashinalbly first in, as it opens at 11.30 our man insists it will soon liven up, hes not wrong, he also tell us in this town there are 4 women to every man, yeah alright i was told something like this in brazil that there was 5 women to every man and i only shared a room with 4 and i never did find out who had got my 5^th one.

But the dance floor is full of girls and my body is full of alchole and head is full of rythm and soon enough im ready to get on the floor and boogie, well at least jump around with a smile on my face, i call it dancing, its certainly full of passionate enthuiasium if not rythmic timing. And once ive started i cant stop. I’m a sweaty matted mess but im haveing so much fun especially whne lady ga ga is played.

Its so obviously we are 4 out of towners in a small town with the same girls and same boys at teh same club we are as strange as my dancing technique is. Glenn is obviously more used to this kind of thing he dances with the hot girls and has the moves,

i never really got that bit understood proprerly in my head, my hair just covers my face and i jump around in the directiuon of a smile. But there are lots to choose from. All of a sudden its 3am and time to go, we stand out side and fights break out i seem to have an audiance so i tell them how much i love their country and spout endless bollocks to a crowd of drunk and intreagued locals who have nothing better to do, if they are waiting for words of wisdom they are in for a long night,morning waht ever, my feet are blistered, my calves are swolen my back aches and im in need of IB profine and a big bottle of water, we are driven back to our hotel but we have an entoruge including the really hot – dance like a porn star- girl who glenn was dancing with and whos name i not only cought but actually remembered. It all goes a bit fuzzy and she is in my room, inpulsivley and drunkenly i get anybody who is not the hot girl to leave and its just me and her.

Right , well , um .. so ...wahts a nice girl like you... she had already played her ace and exhausted her english and my counting to 10 and saying the word for potatoe would just confuse her, she wants a cigaratte, i dont smoke and my lundry is drying all over the room, shit where did that sudden pang of practicallity come from , ok you can smoke in my room all over my clean cloths, soon as ya hot and sweaty and all that but she has no cigarettes and want s to go to the shop, oh man, my feet are so sore, i’m not walking to the shop , you go, ill wait here and tidy up a bit. And the next thing i know its 7am and someone is banging on my door a fat weired guy form last night thought he left his phone here. No, no phone, no hot girl, no clue as to waht happened. So i got another night with 2 hours sleep. I gather up my stuff, where are the others? packing up there bike and leaving , oh you were going to tell me?

‘we knocked’ did they? well if they did i didnt hear so may be hot girl did too, if they didnt then they dont want me to tag along, im hung over, sleep deprived , dehydrated and very confused and insecure and very bloody frustrated, what happened to the hot girl, they want to know, i want to know. Dam dam dam. Well at least its going to be an easy ride today. Im so vacant, i follow them and still manage to go through a red light. Im tryin to figure out last night, im so sore so achy, so shit ,and the IB prophine are stuck in my throat due to lack of water to wash them down and its burning like my unansered questions.

Rindhead wants to take the alturnitive route , im too tired to argue, just sit on my bike and turn the handle that makes noise and speed happen.

We are over taken by a hooting car, its happens constantly, i wave instictivly, he drives a bit agressivly, i look, he has a uniform, shall i stop? Now hes getting quite agitatged, i stop, we are near to chinnese boarder again i know we are supposed to have a boarder pass, but thats not the problem, i call a translator,on my phone it rervealed that the road ends ,so we have to turn back the 30 miles we just rode, i dont want to play this game, i want to sleep.

Back to main road, i see a landrover with english plates, its some one i have been in commuication with via the overlander wed site, we stop, chat excitedly, but RH wants to leave ,'ve have a place to be,' im gettign really fucked off with him now. We go take another wrong turn double back and meet the landrover again. Then all head the same way, the road turnd to track the track to mud, the mud to rocks and the rideable to the un ridable, RH shouting in german to stop and turn back, his pussy is hurting . i ignore him. And we come throught puddles and mud to a perfect spot by a river soft and green and trees and even a pic nic table, to good to be true. Too perfect.

The ground it flat and soft the tent pegs slide into the ground like a ... well im sure i dont need to do a perdictable anagly of inuendo,they slid into the ground like a $100 bill slides into the pocket of a currupt cop, well certenly the ground was more perertrble then the nicotine adicted hot girl,

Some people are arseholes when they drink , RH stops being an arsehoe when he has a drink.

next morning we are photographed climbing steep paths going through deep puddles recklessly and generally possing and riding in a way that exagerates the hardships. but not RH he sends someone else to test the water before he dares entre it, may be he is afraid of water the evidence so far would surgest so, he is in a part of the planet furthest aways from any sea, sanwiched between russia ,china and monglia, perhaps it comes from living in a land locked country.

we come to a river there is a potensial to cross it, its not necessary but ti would make a great photo. i volenteer to do it. i learn alot of lessons in a very short time,

1. water in rivres has a strong current that messes with your steering in an unprdictable way.

2 always put your electroinics in plastic bags and take phones out of pockets,

3. never trust a wuss sponserd austrian.

i go in ,i soon loose balance and i go down. right down bike on river bed, me totally submurged. i come up smiling but im not in a good position glenn comes straight in to help me, alex for some reason stops taking photos but doesnt come in the river, and RH reluctantly paddles in, we lift the bike up and push it out,

'quick my feet are getting wet' yells RH . im not quite sure im hearing this, my bike is dead as are my phones, my camers, my voice recorder, and fully clothed im my bike clothing i have been immursed in freezing river water and he is complaning about his feet. i dont think i need anymore comfirmation about his charactor.

the bike starts up, but all electroniccs are dead. we ride out to the main road, boots full of water, the warm wind is doing its best to dry me out, i strip in a cafe and ring more water out of my boots.

that night we spend in an awful town, burning cars as you approach is not a good sign a big milatry town , but im kind of used to that.but even in such an arse end of a beautiful country still some gold toothed smiles and friedly help to find a cheap stinking ugly hotel, it will have to do. the only thing to do here is drink, so we do our best to fit in, have close encounters with a strange kind not so much heavy drinking but a life of serious abuses. not nice and then wehn i deicid dispite the fact that i have avoided several vodka sessions it is time to sample the clear poision, i buy a bottle for 40p. God it is so smooth, what have i been missing. this stuff is good. but as photos are transfured to memeory sticks and harddrives we are told by and angry babooska its time for us to go to bed. down load has still 24 minutes to go, we ignore her, and then 3 bulshy and very authoritive police come and force us out of the 'hotel bar'. it could get very nasty, i know whne its time to submit, i wont hand the passport over as they request, i go to my room lock the door and the situation seems to disapear, but it could have got very nasty in this strange and incestious little town. in the morning in my my not to musty head i thank the hangover police and realize they did me a favoure

i share a room with glenn for 1st time and instread of sleeping we make fun of RH and realize its time for us to split.

in the morning as we pack we have the inevitable on looker and good mornings but followed by begging for money, this is a side in KAz i have not seen it adds to its diversity but i could do with out it.

i spot a bolt comming out of my sub frame, this is serious stuff and it reiterates that i need to slow down and do more mintance , more thinkin more personal ,stuff, more intergration and less tourateching.

I get a txt from the germans i traveled with , they are in mongolia now and really having a hard time. I fret about it as we ride and the day turns dark cold and cloudy like my thoughts, noting is garrennteed and may be i cant reach my destination. I have to put the lining in my jacket it was removed in poland 6 weeks ago. i pack away my fingerless gloves only to find my proper gloves are soaked from the river crossing and i squeeze out the water and put them on along with my heated grips , how can the weather change so quickly?, then that wonderful thing happens when a single headlight is spotted up ahead and as it gets closer the silver of panniers becomes visable, its 2 austrailains in the 50’s easily, just come from Mongolia they mark their route on my map say its hard but not so hard its dangerous, and from a morining of fretting and freezing i go to an afternoon for anticipation and thawing, ive not worn so many cloths since sweden i had consiered sending them back, but i appriciate them now. The road is muddy filthy and fun. Its easy to ride in the cold, no warter stops means no piss stops and millage is acheived

The last nail is hammered into the coffin of this group of 4 when we stop to talk to a german registered 4x4 the driver speaks english for me but RH inturupts our converstaion with german and i know its time to let him wonder the rest of his journey oblivious to peoples feelings and locals offers, to hospality and invertations. im done with this rude and offensive guy. 'english or german, english or german' becomes his chant when people speak to us

last night it was time to say it was time. we had been joined by a finnish guy who was so pelased to be in company after a solo ride from Valdivostock but when me and glenn were forced to tell the touratech twins that we were missing the challenge and a group of 4 was too big, which was met with resentment and anger by alex who has feelings and by indifference by RH who is oblivious to anything, the fin photographs us all simply pleased to be in company despite the atmosphers, it was almost funny, almost but the pressure was unbearable all i wanted to do was go, but we were stuck at the table, poor alex he is stuck , committed to an arsehole because of sponsership, we were his oppertunity to enjoy the trip. we hurt his feelings and his disopointment revealed its self in anger and conflict, hes in touch with him self and as we sit out other day in out room and he heads for the russian boarder i know he has already worked out in his hlemet that it was not aimed at him. he was just the victim of a bad partenership.

We are in Semey at the moment where for 40 years the russians exploded 460 nucular bombs we past the grave yard on the way in, it was big and new, there are ongoing problems with health and births here from the radiation,some travlers wont stop here but i dont care, i i grow another head i'll just buy another lid, once again i find my self in a town where all the women are beautiful and they look healthy enough to me, in fact they glow,

I love this country, its been 3 amazing weeks, i will definatly return, i have resivations of singing its prises too much as we are so special as tourists and motorcyclists its made this trip unforgetable, evey stop at the side of the road a car pulls over to shake my hand, take my photo, share a smile. These people are for real. And i think there future is very bright

when hot chicks disapear monklet smiles

when hes constantly on video monklet smiles

when he is submugged in icy river water he smiles and when the atmosphere is as thick as Kazakhstan friendship some how he manages to smile

and with relife but none of the mega pixel photos or video that was taken of us me and my new travel buddy are drinking red wine and smiling too

love flid

And When the Cloud Bursts Thunder in my Ear...

so translators were found, reports were filled in, days were wasted, fines were paid wrists were slapped, authorities were authoritairian, jobs-worths were unhelpful, bribes were taken and delays were encounted and the embassy were so good to me, i thought embassys were only there when you were found to have 20 kgs of cocaine stuffed up ya bum but my embassy came through for me just for this minor infringment of not registering my visa within 5 days, i even got to ride in an airconditioned 4x4 with diplomatic plates through the city.It was,they said the first time this had happend, and I'm sure as more tourists come, if this stupid rule remains in force a lot of people will be paying a lot of fines and the embaassy will be besiged by tourists. so on the 3rd day I was free to leave and I decide i would just ride my bike around this beautiful city and take a few photos, its all desinged so simetrically and as i roed under an archway towards the pyimid of peace i was flagged down but a police man, he was most excited, but not in a good way, i had ridden to close to the presidantial palace and broken protocul, 'oh come on, i'm just a tourist, please' but no my passport was taken and another plain clothed man got out of the cop car and spouted to me in russian 'like i would understand the same speal if it came for a mouth that was not in a uniform, and then thye both went back to the car and started to fill in forms, i was fuming, fuck this city, its been noting but beauocracy fines and authorites, i was so looking forward to being here and its been shit. now i cant even leave, i just wanted to look at the arcitechture, i was ready to explode at this pig, 'may be you should say on the visa that you dont want tourists cus thats the impression i'm getting and so will everyone i tell.' but i keep my big offensive mouth shut, and thats not an easy thing to do. and i get out a pen and the card of the man from the British embassy wiht the intension of taking the cops number and making sure he knows what i'm going to do with it. the 2 men deliberate over the form in the car and i sit on the bike and wonder if i ride off now without my passport how smart of an escape plan that would be. then th e plain clothed guy gets out the car with the form and into another car, and leaves, the cop comes back with my passport and explanes the way i should go the the pyimid of peace, turns out the from filling was for the other guy who was not a cop at all, and i was free to go. i was so relived, i shook his hand , he almost dropped his presious batton of power. and i left, see my big offensive mouth would have only antagonized the situation, i kept it shut and i won, phew. i shut my gob and, i won so i leave astana, its so good to get out of town and ride through the steppe (as opposed to a step through) (trust me thats a funny play on words) as i ride south the driving deterioates, cars pass so close im not sure if they are just inquitative or just dont give a shit after they pass me they pass the next car with more space, it really pisses me off, if i move over i hav e no where to go if i stay put i feel like i desereve to be cut up. also as i head south the tempreture increses, i feel the delearium of my brain boiling in side my lid, i have experianced this before , i know the signs, like whne i have painted to much gloss paint and i know the thoughts i am having are from a mind in an aultered state. and whne a car jumps out from behind an oncomming truck and i have to tale ivasive action its with space man movements that i avoid a head on colission, i stop at the cafes and eat dead animal tender from being on the boil all day, if some one else is eating i point at their dish in not i just have soup. luckily im easy fed, my diet is as diverse as the last customers oorder. a few days on the road south to almaty. i camped one night by a canyon that had been flooded to make a resiviour. i roed down a slope that was too steep, when i say roed i mean kind of locked up my front wheel and slid down intensionally, the sun was going down and a storm was blowing in, no worries i could see it would pass, i got out my poncho and sat on my bike totally exposed on the side wall of a canyon, to one side the downward path of loose rocks to the other a cliff face and deep water below. humm . along comes the storm thunder rattles round the canyon the wind blows like a demond and i straddle the bike still fully clothed in lid and boots and dont ride the storm out. i'm wet it doesnt matter, thne the wind changes direction 180 degrees and my poncho shelter turns into a sail and it blows me and my bike over. bollocks. so in pissing rain on the edge of the of a cliff and a poncho pulling at my legs i get under my bike once again and from somewhere i find the strength to lift it up just at the point my phone rings, arrggghhh, im out of hands. it does make me laugh though. what the hell am i doing? the Uk '3' network could learn a bit from Kazakhstan phone recption , at home i cant ger recpetion in town, in my house on a train, anywhere, all my conversations end with 'hello? ya still there' but in this country of vast open unpopulated space i always have 5 bars of reception on my phone. so the storm turns into a rainbow, cloths dry and bike is up right again. its hard enough in this place to find a flat spot to put up the tent as for getting tent pegs into the ground, its impossibled so i gather rocks to stop the tent from gusting off , after the poncho experiance i decide not to tie the tent to the bike, i dont want to stand there like a child watching my bike take flight beneath my tent like a heylum balloon ( some words are a dislexic nightmare) so i climb a little to photograph the sunset, and become awear of just how steep this incline i decended in the name of a 'perfect camping area' is. how steep? ever tried to photograph steepness? ya cant capture it can ya? i ve captured it , thats how steep, in the list of gradiants 'vrs' surfaces equaision loose jagged rocks on the side of a steep canyon this rates as 'fuckin steep'. and thats enough to loose sleep over, even a mindnight snack of marmite on stale bread under a black poncho of night peirced by a million points of star light doesnt take away the daunting prospect of the beginning of tomorrows first 500 meters most of them vertical. in the morning i walk the path i have to ride i've done it 3 times now every time it gets steeper, i move some pertictularly sharp pointy rocks which have puncture written all over them. i dont so much pack up and mentally prepare my self to ride back up again out of the canyon, despite the heat i put on all my safty cloths, thick bike pants with padded knees, i think about leavign a message to be found if i cant get it up, something along the lines of, 'awfuly sorry this has never happend before' i warm up the bike i give my self a firm talking too, my motivation is to not hurt my slef, i could take off my pannires and make 3 trips up so the bike is lighter whne i ride it up to meet them, but im my laziness i convince my self i need the weight over the back wheel, i need speed and confience and a little control wouldnt go amiss either, i have my phones stratgicly placed so which ever way i fall, what ever leg the is trapped under the bike i can still reach a phone, . people have done greated things on lesser bikes, im about to push my limits find where my caperbilities end. like evil kanevil i survey my ramp, ok i have to get into 2nd gear by this point i cant let off the throtle till that point, i have to bump up this rock and not take that route cus it will lead me over the edge. waht a prat i was for comming down here in the frst place. ok lets go, hard on the throtle. accelerate up the track, into 2nd faster than seems sencible,hit the loose rocks, stay on the throttle, bump up the ridge, wheels dont collapse, dont throttle back ya wuss stay on it, bang the second part loose balance, i stop, 'why did ya stop, you prat, go on go on,' i go on wheel spins rocks fly, traction is speradice, leap forward, a little bit of control ,yes i am riding this bike , i am negoiating its diirection, and im up ive bloody done it. ive got it up. no apoligies, baby i went up better than i went down . im so pleased with my self and with the bike, i ride past a heards man with is flock of goats and a farocious dog foaming at the mouth chases after me, i have to ride fast down the dusty track to escape his fangs, do i really need this, can i not revel in my accoplishment for a minute? no not if ya dont want ya calves peirced by rabid fangs ya cant. so i ride to the road and have a brife period of self elation and back to the chalenge of the day into almaty and there are no road rules left at all, lanes mean nothing, they swurve , they cut you up, they come staight at you, they pass you and then stop , when in roam... i ride like a twat too and i get along just fine.get in the right lane to best the line of traffic turning left then turn left in front of them, whilst holding up the traffic behind, ok i can do that too, other drivers seem to expect it , expect it or feel the impact. im on my breaks on my throttle and on my guard. im on two wheels and im on a misssion , same one, i dont want to feel pain. now i have i another dilemma, im invited to stay with the parents of the guy i met in northern Kaz, they dont speak english. i spend my first night in Almaty in a soviet styled prison of a hotel , its dingy the receptionist only learnt english so she could be strict and abusive and the misery of commuisnt russia is recreated perfectaly, 'do you want cheap room or not?' can i see cheap room? 'no' can i see expensive room? 'yes' its shite , ill take the cheap one 'you pay' how much? 'i told you know you didnt 'i told you the price' no you didnt you said cheap or expensive you didnt say a price 'bla bla bla' i'm sorry i didnt catch that 'give me money' bitch ya beginning to piss me off, i didn't say i give her money, 'room 435' its the shittiest furtherest from the stairs smelliest, most mozzies, thinniest mattterss, worst view, next to the constriction zone, constant banging and drilling room we have she doesnt say. my guide book says to unplug phone to avoid prostitues calling, 'how much is cheap one? but i dont pay for sex , at least not directly, with the investment of time, emotionally, physically, mentally,and financally in an indirect way , but not money on the dresser kind of way, but just out of interest 'how much?' i un plug the phone. any way she would be all sweat by the time she reached my room. the parking attenedent surgests i take everything off the bike , which is a pain at the best of times but in a hotel where i am on the 4th floor and no lift and at the end of 3 long corridors i dont want to make that trip the 6 times it would take, so i take whats important, and monket is relived of his guarding duties at the insistance of the car park security it would be beyond his capabilites to defend the bike againt the dangers this city has to offer, so as not to make him feel inadiquat i take him off with the intension of washing him. this city is situated in the shadow of a mountain range, its right there big and imposing and snowcapped, no foothills to speak of just vertical wall of rock that looks as inpenitrable as a chasterty belt . ok so i suppose i better meet the parents , next morning the bike is still there and i am given directions i dont understand to meet people i dont know and stay in a place i want to go to, but im obliged, i'm met by yet another big flashy car and follow it out f the city, i have a good idea i'm heading for somewhere nice , with every turn i'm thinking yeah this is looking ok, the side roads have less properties which occupy bigger lots and then we stop and two big iron gates open and reveal a white marble house 3 stories high. everything is marble , tile and hardwood, and the smiles are as welcoming as a key to a chastery belt .first i am led to the shower, showed how the speakers work the mood lighting and the built in fan, but not how to turn on the actually water, i hear my name being called , i open the door in a towel, thats an ice breaker, yes im a tattooed hairy freak and im in your shower, they show me how to turn then water on with koi smiles , like a carp? and i rock out as the sweat and filth wash away, lady ga ga is over this country like paperatize over a discraced politicion, world domination i;m all for it, then im fed large quanties of meat, fruit , chocolate cake, and even some beer. thne im taken to the mountains , mother drives us in a 4x4 she drives so badly, no indicators, swerving , never looking in the mirrors, stopping for me to take photos in the middle of the road, god i hope i never rmeet her when i'm on my bike. people hoot at us, cut us up, she is oblivious, she talks on the phone, she cant even steer the thing whne we get to mountain hairpins the wheel is yanked at the last minure and we are slung to the side of the car she puts it in 1st for the incline and keeps it there reving it to 6000rpm the engine is screaming to be put into 2nd but she wont listen, its apauling , i try to cover my discust at her driving with gratitude but its not easy,i did not come all this way to be killed in a 4x4.luckily it rains ad so we turn back but even down hill its kept in first gear, untill we miss a vista point and then we reverese up hill and the clutch burns like bile in ya throat. in the evening i'm taken to a posh reatraunt where we are given our own personal yert and all kinds of food are bought to our table, finally a use for horses , they taste really good, im told to stay till wednesday when the son comes back from northern Kaz, its akward as hell, last night another beautiful restraunt and lovely meal and i cant pay, they are genuinly offende that i offer, i am a guest and i will be trated like one, it is their honour to have me here, thats what i'm told, if had no coinsious, this would be easy but i do and i cant just freeload, i dont care its Kazakh tradition to give me everything but their daughter, what about english tradition i need to pay my way. i dont want to offend them, being humble is one thing. i just cant describe the generosity and trust of these people. am i lucky or is this normal? if thats not enough a swiss guy has made contact with me, his riding buddy had got ill and had to return hhe wants to get together . i met him this morning and despite the fact he rides a bmw he seems ok, we will ride together to Mongolia and we are both relived and excited we are of the same opinions, budget and destination,and get this, he has a copy of office he can load onto my notebook so spell chack is iminant, wont that be nice? in fact i feel quite proud of my self cus i ordered in the restraunt and comuicated wiht a local about the map where ive come from where i go, i have just a few words but im getting somewhere, its a facinating language, and if i learnt it the right way and could pronounce the backwards '3's' the *'s and the upside down 'N''s i would really make some progress, i can read a few words now , a bit like my english really. its as much an adventure to get off the bike as it is to ride, im so pleased to have the time to experiance this, its hard and embarresing and a constant learning experiance but i cant be impaicent to get to mongolia i have to remember its the journey not the destination that makes the trip such an experiance, its blows me away i roed out of my garage 7 weeks ago, i could have been going to do a food shop its the same bike i take to Asda but instead im in southern Kazakhstan and im sitting on a marble varanda and no one is around to laught and point a finger at my pink laptop. whne he is relived of his duties monklet smiles, when the lightening strikes so close his fur frizzies, he smiles. when cars pass close enough to kick their door in he smiles. when i un plug the phone he smiles and when i have to pretened hes for luck not comfort he smiles in a way that says perhaps hes for both love flid

The Ever Changing Face of Khazakstan

this is the most diverse counrty, expect the unexpected, its a little like india but its been kissed by the west. i have ridden main roads that are noting more than dusty tracks, twice in one day i though this country had beaten me, i had come off my bike, the sign post are non existant, i stop and ask and i am bombarded with advice i can not understand helpful but abrupt directions are thrown at me and i miss every one. roads end , tracks fade away, ruts and grass land become my route heading for a row of telegraph poles that depict a path that tunns into a track and meets some gravel and occasionally that turns into a road and the ache of stress leaves the bottom of my spine and i realize how much the rest of my body is suffering , other times the directions are wrong or my confidence in them is unsurstainable and i have to turn back to a village i hoped i would never visit again. my mood is a volitile as the road conditions ,dusty road - dirty fun, smooth as silk road ,mind accelerates to other places, potholes and gravel and the consentration exhausts me. the day usually has 2 guarenteed high points my favorite being the dusk, my shadow is long and my day is complete, where shall i camp?as i past the endless steepe of parched grassland and infinate horrizions, i shall cammmmmmmmmmmmp here, i pull off the road and ride a little ways and put the bike on the side stand and this will be my home for the night, pull of my boots and my other sweaty clothing and the other night i couldnt stop undressing and ran arround naked the red sun falls and the stars appear a crsent moon balances on the land where it meets the sky, and makes me jump its so big and unexpected, for a second i try to figure out what it is how big how close before i get my space perception. i make something that resembles food and fill my stomch , if there is a desert breeze i dont get bitten and bravly sleep with my tent open. this is why i am here, this is what i came for some people who know this area have said why here? there is nothing there, exactly ,nothing but me, my thoughts and my words so open, so clear, so honest, i could see inside my head , if i dindnt keep my helment on. Kazakh is Turkish for Nomadic, I'm not pretending when i live like this, ok i need my supplies from the villages, but i get my tomatoes from the venders at the side of the road, and my water from the small markets so its still being a huter gatherer in a way. i dont think all the pictures will ever bring back the feeling of this vast expance. the challenge is to cunger it up and reproduce it with words but i think ultimatly i can only live it as i see it, appriciate the old babookas with therir head scarfs selling the fruits of their labour, the pretty girls squashed into tiny busses with a mobile pressed to their ear, the endless goats,geese, camels, horses, cows, turkeys that wonder across my path. they are there for the moment as am i.and that monet has to be lived in and appriciated cus it can never be reproduced , a bit like a blow job. the cattle hurded by men on horse back but somehow the trem cowboy does not apply, these are tribesmen almost scratching a living not living a romantic dream.my dream is quckly becomming a nightmare, i am running out of fuel i divert to a tiny village the heat so intense now i have taken off my bike trousers and replaced them with combats keeping my levi's for best they could do with some new geans here too.i follow yet an other Lada to a dusty area with an old russian tanker its not so much parked as abandoned a black hose comes out of the top i'm told this is my fuel,i think not my friend if i put that im my tank my engine will knock like your father didnt on you sisters door. so i get back on track and stop at a small dewellling which the hand painted sign optomistically calls a cafe inside are bearfoot truckers and a couple of van driving youths they tell me the ony petrol is back the way i came 200 kms or onwards 300kms, i have not enough fuel to do either, i stand in the shade of a truck and wonder what to do, i f i turn back ive quit, no more mass mails,no destination reached,defeated by the road. if i keep on going i simply run out of fuel and then what? stranded in the desert? what to do? what can i possibly do? i have a firm talk to my self, no one to banter my options with, fuck it, ill keep going. when i run out i will take off my tank and hitch, so i keep going, sometimes the road is so bad the veichles have made a better smoother track at the side of the road, i ride on that wondering if the road has improved, back to the road stones and gravel, holes and bumps the dust track is better, i go back. its almost fun , it would be if i wasnt playing russian rulette with a tank that was running dry. always somethign to worry about, always. road improves, then disapears, and then its back again. this continues for miles and miles. ok and what is there up ahead? it s canopy, could it be a petrol station? i get closer, i looks like one or is it just my desparate optomisium,is it open? does it even have petrol? yes , yes yes. all of those, its clean pristeen straight out of my highest hopes is it for real? is my reality in this world? the pump flows life blood into my bike, my trip,my hopes and my survival. and in the squeeze of a triger i have been given an extension on my life. next door the only other building is a hut /cafe and i order soup cus its the same word in russain. all is well again and i stop for the night with full tank and tummy in an empty land. see you just cant beleive what you hear, ok may be the petrol station was not there before , it is new, and everyones opinion of a bad road differs. so i head for the next town, not because i want to visit not because i want to see the sites, but i need wi fi to connect to the world with my new pink reconditioned notebook. i seek and i find and i check the overlanders wedsite for a potensial riding buddy going the same way. but no one is, i only get a message to say the route i had choosen is 180kms of sand and no fuel at all. shit, the feel good factor is a fragile thing out here. i hear english being spoken without a 2nd thought i go to the sauce. an american peace worker and a local student, not only can they tell me which timezone i am in they ahve a friend who would love to help me , they call him he is going to come over, he scans my map showes me which roads i should take, and then i am to follow him to a hotel, the girls get in his lexes too and i follow, out of town , off road, am i being taken to be mugged? i follow surpiciusally , i and end up at some strange holiday getaway, i am more ordered into a room than checking in and there i am left with promise of company later. im so isolated here and its friday night. i feel trapped , captive. but true to his word my lexus driver returns and buys me dinner, gives me adive and phone numbers of 'fixers' on my intended route, is this to keep tabs on me? i even speak to one on his phone, he will sort hotel and tours for me when i arrive at his city, the the daughter and boyfreidn arrive and they have got a Kazakhstan phone card for me, i cant pay for anything, the rest of my travels round Kaz have been arranged and taken care of. I'm so surpicios but am comming to understand that i have found genuine people with hospality that extends beyond my synicisium. i dont really get it, but they fear for my experiance as a lone traveler in their country and want to take care of me, thats all. i have to promise i wil call any time wiht any problem so as they can fix it for me. and then next morning they are there to make sure i get the right road out of town, but they are late, i wonder what car daughter will drive,i think maybe a nice little VW but no up she comes in a big Merc sports car, i dont know the model but its not cheap, she was late cus she got stopped for speeding, whilst i waited 2 bikes went past with the trademark over land sign of big aliminum panniers, they are the equivalent of the dreadlock and peirced eyebrow of the gap year backpacker, im torn, do i wait from my 'fixers; or chase my potensial new ridning buddies. i wait and am met greated and wishe well credit has been bought for my new sim card. who have i stumbeled across here? i ride on, i apply the tourtoise hare stratigy, the 2 bikes that past will stop ,inevitably, and if i dont drink dont piss dont take photos i will catch thne up. and i do a german couple on identical yamaha xt660 with identical riding cloths and identical helmets with helmet cams, and sat nav, and satalite phone, and big SLR' with bigger lens and spare petrol and carrying more water than a prenatal class. i stop in the stinking shit and fly infested shade of a bus shelter where they were resting they give me information i didnt know about the mongolian boarder and after a chat we ride together, i 'm in the middle and in german they can talke about me on their helmet intercoms. well this sucks, i feel like a brick in the berlin wall with germans either side of me. but when we stop so they can swap wires an recharge batteries for electric gadgets we talk and i laught and joke and they frown and indure and we agree to camp together tonight. and again that wonderful point where we just pull off the road and make a base. i cook rice and caned fish with garlic and bread, i think its one of the best meals ive made and they bring out brokworst and other supplies from home,? how long does that stuff keep? we left 6 days ago, they have 5 weeks to get to mongolia, i stay with them for 3 days and nights, they are on a time budget and the milage is high. and i'm moving on, i cant make them laugh, but i learn lots from them, and even indulge in the ease of satalite navagation,, 've have not the time to take zee wrong direction' best i dont lead then. but they are all right and the only thing i dont want is sympathy companionship, tell me if i spoil ya plans , but actually i think i enhance them and we do have some fun we are a spectical , whne ever i look up there is a mobile phone pointing in my direction filming and photographing me, i feel like a scruff wingin it through this trip next to my prepeard and researched german friends, i ride in combats and fingerless gloves, they in matching air flow warm weather bike clothing but im still cooler. i flert with the road side venders and take phots of girls siting on my bike, every one has a smile weather its from behind he window of a lada or a lexus there is always intreagure , always encouragement always good will we stop for a water mellon, the women have been drinking all day, one lady wants me to go to her stand , how can i refuse , when a drunk woman takes me by the arm to go look at her mellons. i have a little russian lanugage now, enought to joke and laugh, a few inopropreate words go down well, and i have my hands full and photos are taken of my fruity purchase. i begine to wonder if things are just manufactured old in this country like the way they manage to bake their bread stale, the trucks and cars and houes and everything are all in a state of disrepair. im beginning to learn to expect the unexpected . a new morning and pack up camp,batterys are put on charge , satalite reading are taken, and documented,bikes are inspecten while i go take a shit in the woods, just an other (ger) manic monday , apparently whilst we camped wild the last night the world cup was being played, we ride out of the trees and onto road and that is always the second best bit of the riding day, fresh and rested, fresh morning and cool engine , the road turns into smooth 3 lane hiway is this the smooth as silk road? its sudden evidence of where the oil money is being pumped. empty pristeen road, you can still see the stensil where the whitel lines have been drawn, the bus shelteters still have the plastic on them, i could be the first person ever to take a shit on one, if only i hadnt eariler..... and we are on the road to Astanta. im so excited, i so want to see this city. but its not so good. the accomdation is so expensive and we have crossed another time zone, its 10pm . 2 nights camping and into this, we were kings of the country side but now we are peasents of this city of extrvagence and wealth, and i have to spend 2 days entire budget just to get a foodless and fueless room. these high milage days have taken their toll on my bike my back and my budget, i cant keep the pace. my budget is based on finance not time, they worry about not meeting their destination, I worry about not paying my bill. freedom verses commitmant, we both have worries inside our helmets, there are no cheap hotles in this city only less expensive ones, its a lovely room how lovely? not only does it come with shampoo and conditioner but its of such good quality i actually put it in my hair. and its looks georgouse. flick swish my problems start when i get off my bike. the next day was awful, i didnt get my visa registered,. i didnt know i had too,now it is too late, i went to police migration, but they insist i have a translator to help with the report with will determin the fine, i go to british embassy,,and i walk till my feet are blistered, and get nowhere, i am staying in a place i cant afford to pay i fine i cant determing, to find a translater i cant precure, and i cant leave untill this stamp is stamped on my passporti'm stumped. i watch my trip being cut shorted with every bill and i cant go anywhere, and when the working day finished and the jobs worths leave there offices to go to there homes and stick a steel rod up there arses.i walk back to my unafforodable accommodation the other side of the river, on the bridge an older woman is standing on tip toes looking over the railings, likea little kid, i say older but she is probably younder than i am , i forget how old i really am sometimes, she says something to me, and points at big fish trapped in the reeds, we both watch it and i wonder how symbolic it is, she insists on walking with me, we both have our hair platted, and her only word of english are 'i love you' i respond by counting to 10 for. and that is the story so far, and monklet? well whne he doesnt understand a single word spoken to him, he smiles, when he cant understand why we cant ride he smiles when i find the embassy and they ask me what i need and i reply 'a hug' he smiles and when i look down from my my airconditoned room at him on the bike he has cool little smile on his fury little face. Love flid