Finally, Mongolia

Both Paul and I felt the need to write about our experience and how Mongolia left us, so instead of writing one piece, here are both our views. And as usual, we are in agreement. Paul kicks off with his bit, and then I follow.


Paul

Finally, Mongolia.

Ok, so we have ‘done’ Mongolia. We can scratch it off the map, we can brag about it on Facebook and we can participate in cool conversations with other Overlanders.
But was it everything I hoped for, or everything I feared? Well, I am not sure if I may say so, but no, actually not.

It is a weird feeling, having left Mongolia now. And the weird feeling already started when we went from Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan, before even being in Mongolia.  I mean, we did not just dipped our toe in the country: we came in from the west, did part of the southern route, crossed over to the northern route, spent some days in Ulan Bator and left the country via the north border to Russia.
But can we say we ‘did’ it? Did we get all of the Mongolian experiences? Did we do the difficult river crossings and we’re we blocked in deep sand in the Gobi desert?
Well, the correct question is: did we want to do it? Did we look for these challenges? Were we hoping to get blocked at a river that was impossible to pass?  The answer is no.

A few months before we left, Erik and I discussed the choice of our motorbikes. What bike should we take for this trip. The good old BMW 1200GSA, the enduro bike for grannies like someone I know called it, or some lightweight bike that could easily take all obstacles?
We chose the first. Instead of choosing the bike based on the most difficult stretch, we chose to take a bike that would be best for the longest part of our trip. And the BMW is perfect for almost everything. Tarmac, gravel, stones, you name it. It is just not really made for deep sand, slippery mud and tricky river crossings. So before we left Holland we decided to plan our trip along a doable route, not too much tarmac, not to much risk of sand; just enough unpaved and off road to get the real experience, but not so much that we would regret it.

My folder on my computer about the trip is called Mongolia, when I talked about this adventure I called it my Mongolia trip, yes, for me, in the beginning, Mongolia was THE highlight of the whole journey.
Then when I started to research more, I was really looking forward to Georgia, was very curious about Uzbekistan, excited about the Pamir, and I thought Kazakhstan and the Altai mountains would be amazing. And you know what, it all was exactly like that. I have absolute loved all the different aspects of these places and when we were riding through Kazakhstan on our way to Mongolia, I felt like we had already done a great trip. For me the trip could have ended there and then, and it would have been perfect. Maybe a 3 month journey was just a bit too much. Maybe Mongolia was a bridge too far.
It felt like we had to do it, whether we liked it or not.

And then there was the fact that it made us nervous. If Mongolia had been a magnificent country with great roads and many highlights and things to see, it might have been different. But actually there is not much to see or do there. It is all about the journey itself. And we had read so many reports and seen so many videos that showed us all these challenges, that we were quite nervous about it. We were more dreading it than looking forward to it.
We had already done quite some challenging roads in Tajikistan, mostly unpaved and now, riding in Kazakhstan, I was just getting used to nice and smooth tarmac again. I was not really in the mood for even worse stretches of sand and impassable rivers.

But we did it! We got through!
And frankly, it was easier than we expected. Maybe even easier than we hoped for. Only one day was a bit challenging, and that was the most fun day! In the end, I liked Mongolia and I am happy that we did it, but if I would do it again, I would hire a lighter bike in the area, I would not listen to well ment advice and go a little more off the beaten track.


Erik

Finally, Mongolia. The country that filled me with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Anticipation of the vast landscapes and the beautiful emptiness that would await us, and apprehension caused by the question if we could travel on the tracks (you can’t really call it roads) on our heavy motorcycles.

But let’s start at the beginning. We were rushing towards Mongolia because we learned, thanks to Tom and Matt, that the border would close for 6 days as of the 11th of July for the Naadam festival. We already had a deadline of the 13th of July, that was the last date on which we could enter the country, after that our visa would be expired. So sitting out the border closure was not an option. We had to speed up. But like Paul already wrote, we made it to the border in time. We arrived on Sunday the 8th of July, after 2 days enjoying smooth asphalt in a stunning scenery in the Russian Altai Republic, at the border. The border between Russia and Mongolia is always closed on Sundays. I still find that a weird concept, just closing a country, no one could get in our out.

When we arrived in the afternoon, there was already a queue of 10 cars. We decided to join the queue, just to be sure. For motorcycles it’s usually easier than for cars at the border, we almost always just drive past the queue and get preferential treatment, but we did not want to take that chance with the Russian border guards. So just line up.

We found a hotel close by, dumped our bags and locked the motorcycles in the queue. Paul had already made contact with 3 Russian friends – Alex, Nicola and Надежда, (Nadeshda) who where just before us in the queue and had put up their tent next to the line of cars. He asked them if they could keep an eye on our bikes. Sure, they said but only if you eat with us and drink our vodka. This was our first introduction to Russian hospitality, and it is so much more fun if you replace Google translate by vodka and beer. Robin and Kim from the UK joined, added even more vodka, we donated our rations and we were one big family.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

The next morning the queue had grown overnight to more than 50 cars, but we still had secured our spot in the front. At 9 there was finally movement at the border, and then a group of motorcycles drove past and jumped the queue. We decided to join them, sine nice guys finish last. It was a mixed group, with riders from Romania, Spain and Turkey, together with Benjamin and Edouard from France and Tom and Matt from the UK, whom we’ve met before. They agreed Paul and I should go first, since we’d been at the border since the day before. The Russian border guard was a bit p*d off at all of us motorcycles, but let us through before the cars.

I will try to be brief about the border crossing itself. I am always impressed by people who will not be wavered by the amount of work there is or the amount of people who are waiting for them. I found another fine specimen. The Russian customs border guard who had to sign me out of the country took his time. And I mean really took his time. He had to check a couple of documents, and the process went like this: 1. Look at document. 2. Look at computer screen. 3. Touch a key 4. Look puzzled. 5. Pauze for 1 minute. 6. Goto step 1.

After what seemed an eternity, I did get my stamp, got my passport and visa checked and could progress out of Russia. Between Russia and Mongolia there is 20km of no man’s land. The Russian side is still asphalt, the Mongolian side is a dirt track until you reach the border post. First you pay 1 US dollar for disinfectant that’s not there, and then the fun starts. The Mongolian entry process is completely randomized. None of us who went through the border went through the same steps. I was refused entry twice because I was missing stamps, I just got random officials to stamp my passport, Paul was let through but then called back and refused entry the second time because he did not have a piece of paper that they took from him the first time he was let through. Kafka was here.

But in the end we managed to enter Mongolia. And yet again the landscape had changed. It’s empty, barren mountains, desert, nothingness. We drove the first 120km in Mongolia over a washboard dirt track, marvelling at the landscape.

We were finally in Mongolia.

Because we had been rushing to the border we decided to spend a few days in the first big town, a place called Ölgii. I’ve heard also people calling it Ugly. Which is a fitting description. But we did not care, we stayed a few days and went to see the Nadaam festivities. These usually consist of three parts: archery, wrestling and horseracing.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New video by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

We met other overlanders at the Nadaam festival, there was Martin who travelled around Mongolia on his rented Chinese motorcycle, and Tom and Wafa from Belgium in their Suzuki Vitara. And of course Harry, whom we met already on the Pamir Highway on his bicycle. He had been able to catch up with us – very impressive.

We tried to gather information about the state of the roads, especially areas with deep sand and deep river crossings. We decided to follow a mix of the southern and central route to Ulaanbaatar. Tom and Matt, whom we met in Kazachstan went the same route and were a few days ahead of us. From Ölgii (B) we would drive to Khovd (C), then to Altai (D) at the edge of the Gobi desert. From Altai the route goes north to Uliastai (E)  and then to the villages of Tosontsengel and Tsertserleg, and finally Ulaanbaatar (H).

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

While we were in Ölgii we heard about an eagle hunter in a village nearby. So we went to Sagtai to see if we could find him. The information we had was that the hunter was called Arman and lived next to the river. Not much to go on, but we went off. 30 kilometers of dusty washboard road through the mountains. Once we arrived in the village we asked a random guy at a gas station. He made some calls and he pointed us in a direction. We drove through the field towards a yurt, and I don’t know how we did it, but there was an eagle. A little girl came from  the yurt and spoke surprisingly good English. She told us that this was the family of the brother of Arman and that Arman was away himself, but his brother was also an eagle hunter.

We were invited into the yurt for tea, and after that the hunter showed his eagle. He had a 5 year old bird, and his daughter explained that eagles hunt in winter only, and in summer they are shown to tourists.

It was an impressive bird weighing 15 kilograms, and we could hold it on our arms.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

The next day we set off for Ulaanbaatar. From Ölgii to Khovd it was all unpaved, a gravel track through desert mountains with some sandy patches. It took us the better part of the day to reach Khovd, the landscape was stunning. Western Mongolia is full of barren mountains, which change color all the time. There are no real roads, there are tracks heading in a certain direction and as long as you keep the general direction you will end up at the right spot. But driving these tracks takes a lot of focus, so there is not a lot of time to look at the landscape while driving. So we stopped many times.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

From Khovd to Altai was all asphalt. 400k of brand new tarmac. I had been looking forward to asphalt – asphalt means no sand – but I found it really boring really quickly. On the way we met a few guys from Australia who had come from the southern route, and told us horror stories about deep sand in the southern route. Fortunately our route would take us north before we would hit the sand.

We had heard from other travellers on the route we were taking that the next section was really hard, so we both were quite nervous. We have big and heavy motorcycles. They are great for long distance, they handle really well in rough roads, especially gravel and dirt, we’d conquered the Pamir Highway with them but Mongolia was different, we thought. So in the morning we went off from Altai. It was about 250km to Uliastai. The first few hours were great. A green plateau with tracks running in many directions, and the tracks would come together many kilometers further ahead.The tracks were wide and straight, and we could easily get our speed up to 70 kph on these tracks, we were completely alone in the landscape. After a while the scenery changed. The tracks became less wide, more curves, more rocks and more sand. But we had come into the swing of the landscape, and had a great time. At first my heart rate would go in overdrive when I would reach a sandy bit, but after a while I got the hang of it. Eyes up, open gas, get the speed up and let the bike find its way. You have to ignore your instincts to slow down, when your front wheel threatens to go off track  you need to accelerate, so it lifts up and finds the right direction again. Scary at first, but after a while it becomes easy. It is such an amazing feeling, riding through these remote areas with nobody in sight.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

We were still wondering when the hard parts would start by the time we reached Uliastai. We thought we would take all day to reach Uliastai, but were there early afternoon already.  After a lunch we decided to go on to Tosontsengel. We had some unpaved piste, and then 75km of asphalt. Mongolia weather is 4 seasons in a day. We started the day off with a cloudy sky, had some sun, saw thunder and lightning at the horizon and now it was pouring rain. When the asphalt stopped we had still about 1 hour to go to Tosontsengel, through muddy tracks up the hill. We were not alone anymore, there were many cars heading in the same direction. It is a funny sight, seeing all these cars just driving out in the field, each finding their own way. It was the added bonus challenge, driving through the rain on muddy tracks while dusk was setting in. But we managed just fine, and I had a lot of fun.

Sometimes too much information is not good. We had been looking for information, and we found it, but it is really hard to make it objective. What is hard for one person is easy for another. And vice versa. And this was not the first time we had been warned about a road, and we had wondered what we missed by the time we completed the road. Our running gag is “a long descent with a sandy patch”, that someone warned us about on the Pamir Highway. He had driven it many times and each time he struggled, he told us. To this date, we still don’t know where that was.

And I had the same feeling about Mongolia. Maybe we’d listened too much to others and took the easy way, or we are better riders than we think we are. I feel we barely scratched the surface of Mongolia. And we did not have a whole lot of time to go exploring in Mongolia, and I feel that’s the way this country needs to be approached.  Just head into a direction, see where you end up, put up your tent when you feel like it, and experience the emptiness. 

It is definitely a country to come back to. Probably not on my own bike – it’s a bleeping long drive, and a lighter bike will be easier in any case. And more camping, which we did not do at all in Mongolia.

The rest of the days to Ulaanbaatar were uneventful. A bit of piste and mostly asphalt. I would have loved more of the day we had before. We stopped in Karakorum, the old capital of the Mongol Empire of Ghinggis Khan in the 13th century, and visited his statue (it is officially the biggest equestrian statue in the world). About Ulaanbaatar I can be brief. It’s the opposite of the countryside – chaotic, messy and busy. Not a very special place, but we stayed a few days anyway.

To finish off my post I will leave you with pictures from Mongolia and Ulaanbaatar.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

 

 

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

 

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

 

 

The perfect storm for the ultimate wild camping experience

” THE CHAIRS! ”

Suddenly I was wide awake. The wind was blowing hard, beating with all its force against my cheap Decathlon tent.

Before turning in I had put our small camping chairs between our bikes so that they would not blow away if there was a little wind. But this was not a little wind. This was a real storm!

I quickly got out of my tent, put my bare feet in my motor boots and ran in my underwear to the bikes. The chairs were still there and I grabbed them. But one of our pans, also next to the bikes, blew away at that moment. I was standing with two chairs in my hand between the bikes and the tents, figuring our what to do. I started folding one chair, while holding on to the other, preventing it to fly away and fighting at the same time to stay standing myself. I finally managed to shove them into my tent, when Erik came out of his, also in his underwear and motor boots. We must have looked very sexy.

He was afraid that the tents might blow away. I hadn’t even thought of that, but looking at them now, I understood this was becoming a real danger.

The evening before had begun idyllically. From Almaty we had done a nice ride to the Kolsai Lakes and arrived in Charyn Canyon in the late afternoon looking for a suitable camp spot.

Kolsai Lake nr 1:

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

In the beginning we did not find anything nice, just a parking lot on top of the canyon ridge. We were not allowed to ride down into the gorge itself with our bikes. That was only allowed for 4×4 cars, and later we heard that even some of them had a hard time making it.

We rode a bit around and at the end, past a no entry sign, we found the perfect spot to set up out tents. Our tents and bikes were at the edge of the ridge, looking out over the canyon.  The view was absolutely stunning. While the sun was setting, some people came by, talked to us, wanted to take a selfie with us, and gave us some beer. Everybody is amazed when we tell them how far we have come on our bikes and where we are still going.

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New video by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

After all the pictures were taken, we sat down and had a Vodka Coke, using the last Vodka that had not yet leaked into my top case. Luckily we had gotten that beer! We cooked our pasta with fish and peas in tomato sauce and ate our dinner. It was actually a great evening.

New video by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

And now,  4 hours later, we were fighting against the wind.

While I held Erik’s tent, he emptied it, and put his stuff in a small stone shelter that was not far from our bikes. Then we folded his tent and did the same with mine. When we walked to the shelter to sit out the storm, a Polish girl and her Bulgarian boyfriend joined us in the shelter. They had been camping a bit further down, and had been blown away too.

The wind was so strong that it even blew over our bikes. Both of them were laying on the ground. It was a very sorry sight.

New video by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New video by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

The rest of the night we tried to sleep all four in this small structure and were waken up by a beautiful sunrise, as if nothing had happened. Some Koreans came and made pictures of our fallen bikes and our bivouac of fortune. We packed up, drank some coffee and decided to walk down into the canyon.

Here we met 2 couples from Kazachstan who wanted to practice their English, so we invited them for a coffee. it was difficult for them to accept, so we explained that we had already receive so much from everybody we meet, that it is nice for us to do something in return.

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

When we finally wanted to drive off in the direction of Russia, I noticed that my back tire was flat. I filled it again, but I was losing pressure so we stopped at a tire workshop. Here we found 6 tiny punctures within a 10cm area. My tire was porous, and I still needed to get to Barnaul, roughly 1000km away, where new tires were waiting for us. My windscreen fixings had broken too by the fall during the storm and it was very uncomfortable riding like this. We decided to ride back to Almaty, a small detour, to the only BMW Motorrad dealership in Central Asia, to fix the windscreen and hope to buy a second-hand tire.

BMW could not help us, but sent us to Free Riders, a bikers workshop and guesthouse around the corner. Here they repaired my windscreen and sold me a perfect second-hand tire, all for about 40 dollars. Free Riders, by the way, can also ship bikes from and to Europe, so next time we could even do a 3 weeks ride in the area!

at the BMW dealership in Almaty:

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

at Free Riders:

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

The next day we left in the direction of Barnaul. We met Matt and Tom, 2 British guys on their BMW’s and they told us that the Mongolian border would close during the Nadaam Festival. We had planned to enter the first day of that festival, but now we understood that it would be better to be 2 days early to avoid long queues and border closures. We needed to speed up. We decided to get to Barnaul in only 2 more days.

The first day we rode together with Zahn, a Kazach who looked like he stepped right out of the BMW catalog. Everything was BMW, even his cap, and he cleaned his bike at every stop. We communicated with hands and feet and using 3 words of English. But Zahn was very hospitable and invited us for lunch and even diner.

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

The next day was our longest riding day so far, 14 hours plus a border crossing. At the border we met Edouard and Benjamin, two nice French guys riding their Tenere’s to Mongolia and back. We would meet them again at the Mongolian border and spent 2 more evenings together in Ulgii.

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

We managed to get to Barnaul where we booked a nice hotel for 2 nights.

The next morning, Friday, we relaxed and, in the afternoon, went to Sergei’s workshop where Andrew changed our tires. Andrew is the go-to-guy in Barnaul, if you need anything fixed for your bike. It was done quickly and efficiently. On Saturday morning Andrew also arranged our oil change and we were off. We rode 2 days through the beautiful Altai mountains direction Mongolia. A great road with nice scenery and on Sunday afternoon we finally arrived at the border. And there started a whole new adventure…..

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

Lenin statue in Barnaul:

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

Entering the Altai Republic

New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos
New photo by Paul Schim van der Loeff / Google Photos

 

 

 

 

 

 

Countries with a K

It’s been too long since I’ve posted an update on our journey. A lot has happened. Since we’ve completed the Pamir Highway, we have crossed the countries with a K. These are Kyrgystan and Kazachstan. Yes, we are fully in the “Stans”. We have travelled through countries that I could not point out on a map half a year ago. Well, except maybe Kazachstan because it’s so large it is hard to miss, even when I try. It’s the 9th largest country on earth, and about 5 times the size of France. But with only 17 million people in it.

Lake Kara-Kul, on our way to the Kyrgystan border

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

What strikes me every time again is when we cross a border, everything changes. Landscapes, faces, people, roads, money. We crossed from Uzbekistan into Tadjikistan and suddenly there were mountains. It is as if the Uzbeks said to the Tajiks: “We don’t want no stinkin’ mountains, you can have them”. Tajikistan has nothing but mountains, and very little green. In the valleys along the river there are oasis-like places, and that’s where the villages are. The rest is mountains, dry, barren, rock, sand, dust. But stunningly beautiful.

Road to the border crossing

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

Tadjikistan has the most amazing border crossing I have ever seen. At 4200m altitude, on the top of the Kizil-Art pass there is a shack where 3 border officials live. Two are on duty while you can see the third one lying in his bunk bed behind a curtain. When we were there (at the end of June)  it was about 6 degrees Celcius, there was light snow and a very strong, cold wind. But the border officials were very friendly and were making jokes with us. They signed us out of the country without any issues, and we had left Tajikistan. Then a 20 km long descent through no mans land towards Kyrgystan began, and the road continued to be very bad. We were happy it had not rained for a while, because we could tell it had been very muddy before. And mud is not our favourite road surface. We like it about as much as sand.

Once we reached the Kyrgyzstan border control posts, the landscape had changed again. Suddenly it was green, there were still mountains but not as dry and barren as in Tajikistan. Kyrgystan is called the Switzerland of Central Asia. It has green mountains, beautiful forests, lakes, good roads (both paved and gravel) and is about twice the size of Switzerland. It has two major cities, Bishkek (the capital) and Osh. We spent a few days in Osh, relaxing after the Pamir Highway, doing some motorcycle maintenance and overdue laundry, and enjoying walking instead of riding.

The Switzerland of  Central Asia

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

Sunday pastimes in Osh, Kyrgystan

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

From Osh we went in a north-east direction, through Jalal-Abad to Kazarman, where we crossed the Kaldamo pass. On our way up we met fellow bikers from Russia, one of who had a flat tire and could not get the tire back on the rim. Fortunately I had tools with me and we could help him. On a side note, I do have a lot of tools with me, I have everything I need to disassemble the bike and put it back together. And some more. But it pleases me to say that by now I have been able to help others with them more than I needed the tools myself so far (except for the tire change). Even the jumpstart cables have seen some use, I have helped a biker from France to start his bike.

Russian bikers with a flat tire. 

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

On the way up to the Kaldamo pass we were invited by a Kyrgyz shepherd and his son for lunch. He offered his pan of lagman – pasta with potatoes and onions to us, and we shared his meal. We do not speak Kyrgyz and he does not speak English, so we sat comfortably in silence. It was a great experience.

Shepherd and his son in Kyrgystan

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

The Kaldamo pass was very beautiful, and at the summit there was still a large snow wall. But fortunately the snowmelt water and the resulting mud had largely dried up, except for a few  patches on the north side. Did I mention that we don’t like mud?

The Kaldamo pass summit

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

After spending the night in Kazarman we left for Son-Kul, a lake at 3200m altitude on a plateau in Kyrgystan. We arrived there in the afternoon, and found a yurt camp where we could stay the night. A yurt is a round tent, made from felt and looks like this:

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

And since it was my 50th birthday, Paul had arranged a special birthday meal for me. I got a special Kyrgyz hat, which I had to wear of course. They even baked a cake, and there was vodka and beer and the ladies of the camp joined us for dinner. It was a very special night at a magical place. I wish my family and my friends could have been there to share it with me.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

From Son-Kul we decided to head into Kazachstan, and spend a few nights in Almaty. Remembering our first Kazachstan border crossing experience, where we spent about 6 hours in customs to get everything arranged before we would be let into the country, we prepared for the worst. How different was it now – crossing from Kyrgystan into Kazachstan took mere 15 minutes. Fill in a form, the border official enters stuff into a computer and you’re done. Go figure….

And again, crossing from Kyrgystan to Kazachstan completely changed everything. Kazachstan is hot, mostly flat, and endless steppe and desert. As soon as you cross the border, you are immersed and the nothingness surrounds you. Until you reach Almaty, or Alma Ata as it used to be called.

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos
New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

Almaty is a city with a square street plan, almost like an American city. It consists of wide, rectangular streets, lots of cars and green, and it is hard to make out a real city center. We went out on Friday night and had a great time. Kazach people are incredibly generous, and we were immediately invited at the table of a birthday party, and food and drinks were shared with us. This is something we noticed all the time while travelling in Kazachstan – Kazach people are very open and forthcoming, want to know everything about you, want to take selfies with you, invite you for drinks, dinner, and they do not take no for an answer easily. 

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos

After Almaty, we headed up north, but not before we visited Charyn Canyon. 

Paul will tell you about that.

Time to leave Kazachstan – we found out suddenly we had to hurry to make it into Mongolia in time, which ment crossing Kazachstan, getting into Russia, getting our tires changed and head for the Mongolian border. But this is for another post.

 

New photo by Erik Dooper / Google Photos