Hello, it’s the return of the BLOG.


To say the blog has been a bit rubbish lately would be an understatement, but in terms of must, needs and wants the blog has been on the want list for quite some time.

Pete, now very grey on the head from all the stress, has flown to India, We, Tim and Cher, are currently in Ashgabat ...Again.

But what of the intrepid bunch of travellers that have made all this adventure possible? Well, they have soldiered on to India to book themselves into hotel Good Times in Delhi. Flying from Almaty, the new capital of Kazakhstan and the home to everybody’s favourite comedian, Borat (well maybe the Kazaks don’t hold him quite so close to their hearts, but some I hear are still looking for his sister).



















We left off in the Fergana valley in Uzbekistan and the next morning we were heading for Kyrgyzstan and the border town of Osh. A non eventful border crossing introduced us to our new Local guide Aselle. Mad as a box of frogs. That was generally the most approved statement when it came to describing our lovely friendly local guide for Kyrgyzstan. Daughter of two dentists, with a smile to boot, she would prove to be a great help and entertainment for us all over the next 23 days.

Aselle on the left


So off to Osh and a local home stay, nice little house with good clean rooms and a good dinner out in a local café, with Assele to translate the endless menu of which they only stocked about 5 options. But, the beer was cold, the few options were tasty and the mood was high, so all good.

Early the next morning after a breakfast of eggs pancakes and compote, we headed down to Osh’s sizeable local market to stock up for the coming days of bush camping. As we were pushed for time the whole group joined in haggling prices and carrying bags of fresh produce.
The meat market got a few laughs from the locals and us, as the touts slapped their prime cuts of beef and lamb to gain our attention. Meat is a pleasure to buy in this part of the world as it is always fresh and they don’t differentiate between T-bone and brisket, needless to say we left with two huge bags of meat and there was definately no brisket between them.

Stocked up, we were back on our beloved Penelope, heading for one of the trip highlights, Lake Song Kol. As it was a good 900 km drive over some terrible roads, we had to break the journey up with two bush camps.

The first spot was up on the shores of Lake Toktogul, a man made dam built for a massive hydro electric plant. Being fed mostly by glacial water it has a stunning turquoise blue glow and crystal clear water. We BBQ’ed some of the fresh meat we had bought and conversations of treks, hikes and horses filled the air around the camp fire as everybody got ready for bed.

A big day’s drive covering many a bumpy mountain track revealed even more incredible scenery as we drove past massive gorges and towering snowy peaks. Stopping at around five o’clock at another spot Pete had found on his previous travels, we pitched camp a short walk from the river, spectacularly at the foot of a massive bright orange slip face. Nothing lets you know how small you are on the planet than the magnitude of nature and this slip face dwarfed us with ease.

Camped at the bottom of the slip face

Mike got out his fishing hat and rod and we all had Lamb stew for dinner, and toast and corn flakes for breakfast, and no fish for lunch. Take from that what you may.

Mike casting his rod

The next day we headed for Song Kol , referred to by the locals a as a holly lake , and at the centre of a massive plain of green grass, fattening up the herders live stock which they take up to graze every spring. This would also be the first time we would get to see traditional nomads, living in their yurts and the first time we would experience altitude at just over 3000 meters.

The perfect end to a storm and beginnings of a beautiful day

Horses grazing on the plains

We arrived at around four o’clock and the search for the perfect spot was on. When you have a lake shore stretching for miles in both directions, and the biggest, grassiest camp site you have ever seen, finding the right spot can be quite a challenge. Not that any spot would be bad, but there must be a right spot... surely.

Eventually we stopped about half way down the lake, with the crystal clear water a good couple of hundred meters distant, and the hills, then massive mountains, reaching to the sky, towering behind us. We set up camp, most making use of the space and soon the Odyssey village was built.

Ablutions were set off a respectful distance away, with tarp being rigged and a vacant, in use sign, being decided on (a small flag flying from a pole meant the loo was free).

More of the lovely meat was prepared and the fire started, roast was the order of the evening with baked potatoes done on the fire and veggies and salad and for those with a bit more space in their tummy’s, loaves of hot garlic bread. Once more, a happy bunch of travellers, in a truly unspoilt piece of the world.

Setting up camp

Tasty BBQ roast

Our Odyssey camp amidst majestic hills, plains and a great lake

We packed a breakfast and lunch box that night with fruit, chocolate, bread, meat, tomatoes and cucumber for the hikers, as they had planned a truly ambitious walk the next day, to the tallest peak in the distance. NEVER! I heard the less hiker types say. It cannot be done! They all shouted. The look of determination in the hikers eyes flared and their walking boots quaked in terror. Early the next morning we could all hear them saddle their rucksacks and crunch the morning dew under foot, as they left on what would prove to be a hike and a half.
The lesser hiker types eventually arose a few hours later and took up station with several pairs of the truck’s binoculars, sitting in a line of chairs peering at the group soldiering their way up the ridge in the distance. All experts I would say, as the free advice was flowing as easier routes were spotted from the comfort of the Odyssey camp chairs.

In the mean time, a group headed off to a local yurt camp about 150 meters away. We were invited in, and in the traditional manner, were treated to a morning snack of fresh bread, delightful jam and fermented mare’s milk. Now I like to try everything once, but horsey milk is not my cup of tea.

The local yurt camp

A few of the folks were quite keen on ridding and 5 horses were arranged. Soon riders and non riders alike were trotting about on their steeds, heading of in all directions. Some folks seemed to lack the necessary control, but most the horses were fairly relaxed and fitted in with the group well.

The panel of experts were still deciding if the hikers had chosen the best route while lunch was served around midday.

Next the mission to full up the solar showers was on. We have five solar showers on board the truck and each one takes twenty litres of water. As the lake was some distance off, we roped a horse in and demoted it to donkey. Half an hour later we were leading our trusty mule back up from the lake with showers strapped over its saddle, I’m sure I saw it looking from side to side to see if any of its friends had noticed. Once back in the camp, the kitchen tent was quickly reincarnated as a shower block with a make shift divide and the showers put out in the sun to heat.

At around four that afternoon the hikers returned with their tales of woe and photos to back it all up. They had indeed reached their summit, only to find an even bigger valley stretching off in the distance with higher snowy peaks. But their main prize was the truck GPS they had taken along as a navigation aid. It was paraded around the camp with a max altitude reading of 3800 meters. Quite some feet for a day’s walk.

Once more the kitchen group clammed into action and a beef goulash was set into motion. Some folks headed off for the showers as they had warmed nicely in the sun and many a clean smiling face appeared from the tents.
Dinner was served and the fire stoked as we sat around and discussed the plan for the next day.

The happy riders

In Kyrgyzstan they have a national sport of which they are particularly fond. I don’t expect we will see it at the Olympics any time soon, even though the level of sportsmanship is something to wonder. It’s called Goat Polo. No, not Polo played on goats but rather Polo played with a goat. Some folks will find it rather squeamish, but there is no “nice” way to explain it.
A goat is chosen from the flock and bound accordingly, it is then slaughtered in the traditional manner , its throat cut, decapitated, and then its legs amputated at the Knees. This becomes the “ball”. The horsemen are divided up into teams of two and four, and a small carpet is placed some distance off on the massive plains.

Aselle pointing out the goal


The playing field stretches as far as the eye can see and included the tents of our camp, the crowd of onlookers’ and any other place the riders may choose to use to their advantage. A good rule of thumb is, if you ever find yourself watching a game of goat Polo, stand near the locals, if they start to run, try and run a little faster.

The riders invade the camp, while folks take refuge on the roof of the truck

The goat is then taken off some distance from the rug and placed on the ground. The two teams of either four or two stay near the rug and await the signal from a village elder, who is adjudicator.

Once the signal is given, they charge off into the distance to grab the goat, throwing themselves nearly out of the saddle so as to reach down and grab the carcass. Once one of the players has the goat firmly tucked behind his leg, he tries to charge off towards the carpet. His other team mate runs interference, trying to block the impending attack from the opposition.

Going back to the adjudicator, apart from starting the game and deciding when to end it, he plays little part as there are no rules. Grabbing your opponent’s reigns, wiping his horse, pulling of ears, etc. is all quite acceptable. The horse’s melee around and around each other, barging, pushing, kicking and biting. The squabble goes on and on until either the other team manages to grab the goat or somebody breaks away and drops the goat on the carpet, normally at full tilt with three other horses galloping beside them.

The first goal is scored

A game lasts about fifteen minutes as it is very tiring for players and horses. Every time a point is scored a bit off money is placed in a hat for the teams to divvy up afterwards. Though it is a ruff game and the horses ridden hard, they take great care of the steeds as they are prized possessions. I was introduced to the champion pony that has since retired from the demanding game and now exists solely as prize stallion, being pimped out buy its owners for a sizeable fee to pass on the winning genes.
Even though the game is harsh, respect plays a major role. Just before the goat is slaughtered a small prayer of thanks is offered. Once the game was over, we were offered the goat as a gift but declined, and as such it was given to a family that the locals think is deserving, maybe a newlywed couple or somebody who has fallen on hard times. Nothing goes to waste in the harsh lands.

The game was all over by four in the afternoon and most folks retired to bury their nose in a book or sit around in groups and chat. The showers had been refilled and proving popular as everybody got ready for another excellent camp meal.

The next day we would be heading off to Bishkek, a large city where we would be applying for visas for Pakistan and Kazakhstan, to carry on our journey of the amazing Silk Road.

Players in action





















Reaching down to pick up the goat

Turkmenistan is a bit of a crazy place in so many ways, the locals are friendly people, always happy to help where they can, though due to past rule they are always a bit nervous around foreigners. The customs and immigration procedure is long and involved and took us about 4 hours. When we finally got through it was about 5pm and we planned to run all the way to Ashgabat, the capital, that night so as to catch the famous Sunday market. A must for everybody visiting Central Asia, possibly be the best market around. It was an interesting drive, due to government policy most people are banned from driving at night, mainly due to a police force that are too lazy to run all the control points at night. At every check point we had to negotiate our way on. Ata our local guide excelled himself and negotiated our smooth passage allowing us to arrive in Ashgabat at about 2 in the morning, enough time for everybody to get enough sleep and head for the market the next morning. Our discovery the next morning that the local currency had strengthened by 50 % was a bit of a shock, and so Turkmenistan is now officially the most expensive place en route for a bottle of water or beer. Ashgabat is also special for it’s the crazy design, all by local and French architects and built by the French. It’s amazing in so many ways, though an amazing waste of the people’s money. Amazing that one man can build so many monuments to himself!!


Camels at the market

After two nights in a fancy hotel with a great pool, heaps to see and explore and a chance to get all the laundry done, we headed almost directly north for one of Turkmenistan’s really special sights, the burning gas crater of Davassa. Arriving early evening we set up camp in the desert, while Ata the local guide, hiked off to find a monster desert truck to bounce us over the sand dunes to the gas crater. It’s an amazing drive to an even better spectical. Arriving just before dark there is a slight glow from the massive crater and it gets more spectacular as the skies get darker.

Camping just outside the crator

Ata our local guide

The Gas Crator

Our group

The following day was an early starts as we continued to head north for Uzbekistan. Most of the day was spent driving through Karakorum Desert dust storms with temperatures hitting 42 degrees, lucky a dry heat so liveable. Arriving in Uzbekistan and it seems our border luck is back, with hardly any hassles and only a brief search of some of the truck and luggage. Then a short drive to Khiva, our first fantastic silk road city and the home of our local guide Jalol.
We stayed in a great family run guest house which proved the idea venue to celebrate Terry and Lesley’s wedding anniversary. The family lay on an Uzbek feast even with the local port wine and a group of wedding dancers to entertain us for the evening. A fairly early start the next morning to try and see as much of Khiva in the cool and with Jalol as a guide everybody had an amusing look at the history of the town.

City tour with Jalol, speaking with intense passion for his country

Wedding Anniversary celebration dinner at our homestay in Khiva

Khiva



Bukhara was next on the list, with two full days to enjoy it, was a nice relaxed time and the girls decided it was time for a girl’s night out. A big session of pampering and talking rubbish I am sure, followed by dinner out and then off clubbing. Though, the club they got sent to was having a kiddie night and closed at twelve, and no the lads had nothing to do with it. Surprisingly though, the lads seemed a bit lost without the girls, and the Irish definitely lost the ability to drink.

Bukhara

Wood carving

Uzbek Monies

Girls night out - beautiful toes



Next we headed for the Kisikylm Desert for two nights camping on the shores of the desert lake. En route we stopped off in Nurata to view the holy fish before rolling on to the lake. We ended up not rolling, as we searched out a good spot really close to the shore, the truck broke through the hard crust into the muddy layer bellow, with only a small amount of the back wheels showing. We were forced to set camp and start digging and jacking up the truck to get it out of the mud. Jalol disappeared of over the hill to find a truck to pull us out, Cheryl and most of the rest started setting up camp, while Pete and Tim, helped out by a couple of the lads, started getting the truck up on an almost level plane. It was a great sight when a big Soviet build dump truck roared over the hill to give us a pull which would save us hours of jacking and sand matting. We paid the local driver for the pull and soon we were all in the lake having a bit of a cool down. As it got dark the wildlife emerged and decided to put on a bit of a show. All bush camps have some wildlife and it is very seldom we have any hassles, but there did seem to be a fair number of scorpions in this camp and even a small snake.

Holy fish

Poor Penelope stuck

Next stop was Samarkand and its fantastic Registan Square and our hotel was just 2 minutes away. This was our last silk road city for a while and we headed off to explore it with Jalol.

Registan square

Registan square

Tashkent our next stop is seen as the hub of Central Asia. This modern wide streeted capital is so different from what we have seen over the last weeks, big shops and restaurants with western influences. I think everybody enjoyed a bit of a break from the history and a chance to relax and kick back around the pool.
Approaching the end of our stay in Uzbekistan, a jump across the mountain barrier to the Fergana valley, the bread basket of Central Asia, was required. Due to politics and some crazy rules, no passenger carrying vehicle is allowed over the pass if it has more than 5 seats so the truck was forced to transit through Tajikistan, while the group hopped over the hill with taxis. First stop was Kokand and the Khans palace before heading to Fergana city to stay in a luxury hotel for the night. Owned by the presidents family for some crazy reason we get really good rates and so can afford to stay in this crazy place, there was a full on pool party going when we arrived with the locals putting on quite the show.

The Caspian Cruise

Everyone was quite excited and there was no problem getting piled into taxis and screeming off towards port, in a mix of mercedes benz's and a couple of local Lada taxis.

We soon cleared customs and immigration and the wait to board the ferry began. After a long delay that should have worned us of things to come everybody was shown to their cabins. We met up on deck to watch the lights of Baku and the lights of the oil rigs dance in the sea around us. I think it can be said, the first night was fairly festive with a birthday boy on board, well, actually no, it had ended at 12am while we were waiting for the ferry, but this was a good excuse to party the night away and for some to see the sunrise the following morning.

A normal Caspian crossing with all associated port entries and departures usually takes about 20 hours with an actual sailing time of about 12 to 16 hours, depending on the weather. The next day by mid afternoon we sighted the port of Turkmenbashi and all thought we would be back on terra firma that evening. It was slightly alarming when we dropped anchor about 3 miles off shore, and so the wait began, 2 and a bit days. But this is a group up for every challenge and in the end I actually think everybody will look back fondly at our cruise, though stationary on the Caspian.
Deck games were the order of the day with the hammocks coming out and the main lounge area turned into a snoozing area. Food soon became an issue, as when you are only expecting a day and then work out you may be there a bit longer, 20 hungry people can go through a lot of food. The trucks emergency stocks came out and made sure everbody ate well. I think we will be remembered fondly by the Caspian crewe who radioed the other ferries that were waiting, to say, cheer up, its not all bad, our passengers are having a blast.










Fishing from the ferry deck

Pictures from Azerbaijan

Cliff edge going to Lahic


















Bush camp by the river













Mud Volcanoes
Mud Volcanoes
Mud Volcanoes

Roof seats on route to Lahic

Azerbaijan

Its been a while since I could sit and type up the blog, to say the least, it has been interesting times, and I take my hat off to an amazing group who are a pleasure to travel with and are determined to help us make this the trip of a lifetime.

The sad news is that despite all efforts, entry to Tibet has proved impossible, and so an alternative route has had to be added. It's sad that we will not see Tibet, but considering the situation there at the moment, it may be a good thing, as all would have been rather depressing.

The show must go on! Yep, we have had to skip over a special part of the journet, but the new itiniary will take us to some amazing places and these are going to be great to explore and experience. Odyssey Overland will make it to Australia, there is no turning back.

Many expeditions have turned back this season and it has been a terrible year for all overlanders, but with the Olympics, Tibetan riots, a major earthquake and the closure of Tibet, there was not too much that we could do about it. But, everything points to next year being back to normal.

We are all sad to say goodbye to Penelope our faithful truck, the sweetest truck around, with Tim and Cheryl about to head off and drive back to the UK over the next 25 days or so, before flying out to meet us when we arrive in Bangkok. This said, another truck has been arranged and soon the group will be aboard Archie, heading off to explore Northern India and Nepal, and then on to Thailand where we will get back to the original plan. It seems very fitting that we will be visiting the home of the Dali Lhama in exile, but more to come on our routing as we go through.

Some time has passed since we left Georgia to head off into Azerbaijan and a lot has happened since then, we even found time to do an extended cruise of the Caspian Sea, our thanks goes to the crazy twisted people in the port of Turkmenbashi, who decided to let us float outside the port for three days while they awaited a train. Yep, Turkmenistan is a rather strange place, but first Azerbaijan.

Folks were sorry say goodbye to Georgia's amazing scenery and friendly people, not to mention the food and wine. The border crossing was fairly uneventful with the strangest part being that we all had to pay for a medical check at the Azerbaijan frontier, then once the money was paid no doctor showed up to do the check, so we rolled on into Azerbaijan. At first it seemed a lot like Georgia, but as we ran along things slowly changed and soon everyone was well aware that we had entered another strange country with loads of new experiences awaiting us.

We had camped the night before and now headed for another bush camp, so everybody was fairly keen to find a spot where the promise of a river to have a swim was high on the agenda. Temperatures had started to rise and cool refreshing water would go down a treat. After lots of slowing down and speeding up I finally found the right turning to take us to the camp we had used the year before. With a big popular tree for shade and great views to the surrounding hills, it was not long till most people had jumped in for a refreshing swim, and were now ready for a good night enjoying the many gallons of wine we had brought from georgia.

It was an early start the next morning as we made a bee line for Sheki and its famous slik road caravanassari, now a hotel, its still great to wonder and get a feel of what it must have been like in the old days, when caravans plied this route with their spices, silk and other goodies. A visit to the Khan's summer palace was also one of the big attractions with some great woodwork and painting. The entire building was built without the use of nails and relies on elaborate wooden joints to keep it together.

We then headed for the mountain village of lahic, another hidden gem, well off the beaten tourist track. Will another mountain pass road, we soon had a good number of people up on the roof seats as we wound our way up into the hills. Mind blowing scenery and a great hamlet of narrow streets yielded the local copper smiths hammering out amazing designs. We canped for the evening in a local tea garden with our first game of volley frisbee played by a number of very competative people emerging from the group.

The next days plan was to get as close to Baku as possible and then go into bush camp for the night and head for Baku early the next day to get as much time as possible in the crazy oil funded town. At about 4pm a small dirt track was seen meandering up into the hills and so it was decided to check it out as a possible bush camp. Narrow, winding and getting a couple of people a bit on edge it was worth every bit of the adventure for when we crested the hill, we drove onto a high plain dotted with active mud volcanoes. Sort of like a star wars theme gone wrong, but a fantastic setting for another amazing bush camp with poeple just blown away, sure to come a regular stop in future years, a hidden Odyssey exclusive!!

Baku never disappoints with its crazy oil fueled viabrance, though it does empty your pockets rather quickly. This was expected to be our most expensive stop on the trip outside Europe, little did we know what lay ahead for us in Turkmenistan.

The crew headed straight for the docs to find out about trans Caspian ferries, as there is no regular service and it is a matter of going down to the port and begging and bribing your was onto a ferry. As soon as we arrived they informed us that there was a ferry leaving that evening and there was no guarentee when the next one would leave. We declined, as we had only just arrived, and returned to the hotel before heading out to a cool restaurant in the centre for a good meal, and then for the adventurous, out clubbing.

All was good to go by day three of our stay in Baku, with a ferry due to leave at about 1 o'clock in the morning.