I am kicking off a whole new part of the world in a fresh bike touring chapter titled The summer of Stans. Eager to get onto the road again after my escape from Sudan and longest ever backtracking to Dubai. My Central Asian bike tour begins with a ferry ride over the Caspian Sea from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan. I’ll cross the vast arid steppe landscape of the Ustyurt Plateau before I head towards Uzbekistan. It’s going to be days on end cycling on roads in empty landscape with no traces of civilization. It’s going to be amazing.
Recap of week 100 to 102The bicycle survived the airplane to Baku and after three days in Baku I cycled towards the ferry terminal in Alat. Next morning I was sailing towards Kazakhstan and the small port city of Kuryk.
I quickly set off and cycled towards Zhanaozen which would be the last sights of civilization before reaching Beyneu. Ahead of me were several hundred kilometers of vast and empty steppe landscape of the Ustyurt Plateau. On my way I passed the underground Mosque of Beket Ata.
The heat in the beginning of June was crushing and I took great care to plan my water stops which mostly were successful. After arriving in Beyneu I took some well deserved rest days and gathered energy for the next stretch of long distance desert riding in Uzbekistan.
A new touring chapter titled The summer of StansI was very happy to see that my bike box arrived in Baku airport without a scratch. For so long I pursued the goal of overlanding my trip and avoided flying with my bike. However, after being turned around in Sudan I saw no other option than hopping on an airplane from Dubai to Azerbaijan. I figured that I might as well return to plan A, which was cycling east via Central Asia, instead of jumping further down south in Africa. Someday, when that region of Africa has become stable, I will pick up where I left.
The bike box went onto a trolley and muffled into a rather spacious taxi. For the last six months or so, I had been in muslim countries without access to beer. I could think of no better opportunity than building up my bike at the hostel in Baku with tools in one hand and a cold beer in the other.
Bicycle was assembled with great success and I took three days to explore Baku and their interesting architecture before cycling south towards Alat and the ferry terminal. There is no official departure schedule for the ferry. So I had to try my luck. I arrived late in the afternoon and I was jumping with joy when I got a ticket for the next day early in the morning. Weather conditions were perfect so crossing the Caspian Sea would be a breeze. I’ve heard many stories about cyclists pre-covid waiting for days and even a week on their ferry to sail. Sometimes, I said to myself, I was allowed to be a bit lucky.
Dagistan was the name of my ferry and it had all of the Soviet era atmosphere I wanted to experience. From rusty rails to colorless and bleak interior. Bare bone practical features and nothing else. Actually I don’t know what I connect with the Soviet feel. Perhaps it was just the name of the ferry or the Russian speaking truck drivers or the different smelling food in the cantina. Nevertheless all those tiny fragments and elements, on a 27 hours ferry ride across the Caspian Sea, came together as letters forming up words that would be the beginning of a whole new bike touring chapter. For the next several months I will be cycling across Central Asia via Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. All new bike touring chapters need an awesome code name and for this chapter I have the perfect one: The summer of Stans.
Kuryk and the empty road to ZhanaozenThe ferry docked just outside of Kuryk. I was the only tourist on board and the passport control all happened on the ferry. Already before leaving Azerbaijan, I had handed over my passport to the responsible manager of the passengers on board. They asked me to wait in their office as the Kazakh border patrol searched the boat with a drug sniffing dog and while they were processing the documents of the passengers. It all took no more than an hour before I could leave the ferry.
It was late afternoon and I decided to cycle the 25ish km to the sleepy town of Kuryk to spend the night there while I sorted out some Kazakh money from an ATM and set up my phone with a local SIM card. It struck me as strange just how quiet Kuryk was. I’m used to port cities being busy and a bit chaotic. But this one no. Perhaps it was because they recently moved the ferry terminal here from the much bigger city of Aktau and activity just hadn’t picked up yet. The one hotel I could find in town had no receptionist and I sat and waited inside in the entrance for half an hour before someone showed up and asked what I was doing in their building. It must not have crossed their minds that a blonde haired, blue eyed, foreign language speaking European actually wanted a room at their hotel because I had to explain it several times over the course of ten minutes that I had looked up their hotel name on Google Maps and wanted a room for the night. It all ended well. I got my room, I got my SIM card and I got some local Kazakh Tenge money in my wallet. Next day I hit the roads towards Zhanaozen.
What I thought was going to be a nice asphalt road turned out to be a washboard bumpy gravel road for a full day. I moved forward at turtle speed. Not that I minded much because I was surrounded by the steppes of Kazakhstan as soon as Kuryk vanished behind me. Camels and free running horses stood up as clear silhouettes on the very flat steppe. It was a beautiful sight. That night, on my first camping night in this country, I lay in my tent looking out at a flock of horses walking, running, galloping curiously around my tent as the sun was setting far far away.
I reached Zhanaozen on my second day. The gravel road connected with the main highway and I expected to see eateries and gas stations at frequent intervals on my approach to this bigger city. But there was nothing. At the beginning of my day I passed a village with a small mini-market where I had stocked up on snacks and fruits. I was happy that I did because outside of the cities of Kazakhstan there is more or less nothing. Next time I got to a place was when I had reached Zhanaozen. It came as a stark realization. Kazakhstan is really empty. A quick Wikipedia search later, I had learned that Kazakhstan is one the least densely populated countries in the world. Criss cross a square kilometer and you will on average only see 7 people. The empty roads running in straight lines as far as the eye can see over vast and empty landscapes would be the theme of my bike touring of the Kazakh steppes.
Across the Ustyurt Plateau via Beket AtaA second stark realization I quickly made was the weather. It is hot in the South West of Kazakhstan. Daily peak temperatures hover around 40 degrees already at the end of May. Leaving Africa and the Arabian Peninsula also meant leaving the desert - or so I thought. This part of Kazakhstan is actually a desert. But it’s a different kind of desert than the golden and sandy ones in Saudi and Sudan. The desert of Kazakhstan is a clay and stone desert with bushy grassy green stubs. If it’s only a semi-desert with steppe climate or an actual desert by definition is up for debate when you talk to the locals. All I knew was that it was dry, dusty and very hot.
So I figured I had to pack a lot of water in Zhanaozen. I wanted to cycle off the main highway to Beyneu and an excellent route goes via a very important religious place called Beket Ata. When I looked at the map there was nothing for several hundreds of kilometers between Zhanaozen and Beyneu. I already had the recipe for long unsupported stretches from Saudi Arabia. Water bottles got strapped to the front and rear rack. All leftover space in my panniers was filled with small water bottles. Quick noodles for three days were crammed in there as well. I was ready to cross the Ustyurt Plateau.
Cycling out of Zhanaozen was with mixed feelings. There’s a big oil or gas industry connected to the city. I could never figure out which one it was. Perhaps it’s both. I asked locals and they said it was a gas field but what I saw was an endless landscape of what looked like the classic vintage oil pumps. These pumps were piercing the earth at a steady rhythmic pace. I turned my head right and left. I stopped and looked behind me. The pumps were all around me. In between the pumps a mesh net of electrical wires on wooden poles. For several kilometers I saw nothing but a bleak industrial landscape - a piercing reminder of the human energy consumption of the 21st century. It was a stab to my nature loving heart. And then again, a strange fascination of the capacity and ingenuity of the human species that have evolved so fast compared to the 4.5 billion years old earth. My only hope is that we can evolve equally fast and ideally much faster towards a green way of living in balance with nature and the resources of the earth. For my part, I was happily turning the pedals of my green (the color actually is green) loyal bicycle named Tamika, only powered by my curious motivation to explore the world.
With that poetic sensation in mind, I cycled out into the empty steppes of the Mangystau Region again and more precisely the Ustyurt Plateau. There’s not much to say about the next couple of days because I was mainly cycling on long roads all day with only a handful of cars passing me. A few camels kept giving me some curious stares but aside from that, I could have been the last man on earth. I cycled all day and fought my way through heavy winds. Flat landscapes are nice to cycle because you don’t have to struggle with hills and elevation meters. But as my grandfather always taught me, there are no free lunches in this world. When it’s flat, it’s windy. My first day was a battle against the wind. I was determined to reach Shopan Ata which is Beket Ata’s little brother.
Shopan Ata is also an underground mosque but perhaps less visited than Beket Ata. Nevertheless, it’s a place for the pilgrims to rest and recharge energy. To my luck, they also welcome a weary bike tourer. An hour before sunset I cycled the last meters of the day to the saluting and cheering of a sheep herder that was very impressed by my effort. He pointed and showed me to the common room where I was offered tea and snacks. I was gutted, tired and did not hold up long before I silently snuck into one of the many sleeping rooms that is used to accommodate the visitor and pilgrims alike. There are no beds. You simply just take a thin blanket and claim your space on the floor. I didn’t get to rest for long. I was in limbo between waking reality and the land of dreams, when one of the caretakers came and literally dragged me out of bed. He was very concerned that I had biked all day and not had dinner at all. He didn’t take no for an answer. I was invited to join the common dinner together with a bunch of other locals. In Kazakhstan, meals are shared from a big plate. You sit around it on the floor, men and women separated, and grab the food with your fingers (they explained to me it was called five finger food because you eat with your hand). Still after so long in finger food countries, I have not gotten used to eating with my hand. For a brief moment I sat and looked a bit lost before they realized I needed a fork. They all smiled when I had the fork in my hand and suddenly gorged in some big chunks of food. I was more hungry than I thought. They eat fast. It didn’t last long before everyone was done and it was time to say a prayer which I politely joined out of respect. All I had to do was cup my hands, palms facing upwards, while I looked to the ceiling.
That night I slept like a baby and the following day I was on my way to Beket Ata. By now I had gotten the idea that Kazakhstan was nothing but one big giant flat steppe. The Ustyurt Plateau stretches across the Mangystau Region and to my surprise some low lying mountain landscapes started to give some variation to the landscape. They are beautifully white and while I was gazing out on a particularly special formation of rocks a car pulled over and explained to me that they call it the Tiramisu mountains because they look like the dessert. I could not see the resemblance but that didn’t make it less spectacular.
I managed to reach Beket Ata on my second day from Zhanaozen. It was the same setup as Shopan Ata. I visited Beket Ata’s burial place, the underground Oglandy mosque, which has become an important pilgrimage site for Kazakh muslims. At night I sat and watched the sunset from the cliff sides and pondered how great it is to be able to cycle to remote places like this.
More remoteness was ahead of me. The road from Zhanaozen to Beket Ata was a very nice asphalt road. From Beket Ata to the highway connecting Beyneu, a very long gravel road. Some travelers have dubbed this as the most boring place on earth. For me that is a golden reason to go. We all have our different cravings and it is so rare to be out there in something that feels as flat and endless as the ocean. That is the steppe I cycled for 140 km over two days to reach the highway. Just as I started the gravel road I instantly got into a meditative zone and just pedaled while looking at the hundreds of lizards quickly trying to escape from my weird metal monster of a bike. I passed a hissing sound that I first thought was a snake but a few seconds later realized was just a mama turtle watching out for her baby turtle. In fact, there were so many turtles here which embarrassed my animal knowledge because I was under the impression that turtles only lived near water and this was definitely a very dry steppe desert. And if I just looked closely at the ground, I would see small meerkat looking creatures crawling out of their earth caves and standing on two feet sounding like a bird. This place was booming with life. At night, I didn’t have to look long for a camp spot since literally everywhere is a spot to pitch a tent (except for the gravel roads of course). Everything is so quiet here and at night I was sitting in my camping chair and stargazing. Pure magic.
Hitting the highway and a 10 second drinking water panicThe gravel roads of the Ustyurt Plateau are no fun when it rains. It must be a muddy hell. For me it was an all dry and very dusty experience. Both myself and my bike had changed color when I reached the highway. The 40 degrees heat (yeah, temperatures hit 40 even in early June) had demanded a lot of water drinking. My water bottles were all empty. My bodily water reserves were all empty. I felt like a shriveled old raisin. I had dreamt of cold ice during the night and all I could think of was the cafeterias I had marked on my map close to the end of the gravel road. Lesson learned. Don’t count too much on updated map info in these parts. The cafeterias were all closed. For 10 long seconds I panicked.
I flagged down the first car I saw and he stopped. I said the Kazakh word for water and got a donation of one liter of water. Out of respect I waited until the car had driven away but then, almost needless to say, I downed it all in one long greedy gulp. So now what I thought. I pulled out my phone and started looking at the map. A very small railway town, Tolep, was 5 km away. I had to give it a shot.
It didn’t look promising as I passed run down buildings in such a state that I figured no people lived there. No people on the streets. No shops of any kind. No mini-market. At the end of the street I reached the railways. I sat down and contemplated my next move. Guess I just have to start knocking doors and hope someone is home. Around the corner of the first building I came to was some kids cycling around. They saw me knocking the door and as if they were reading my mind they said in plain English the word supermarket. YES YES YES, that is exactly what I’m looking for. I can’t be the first thirsty traveler they see. But the kids ran away into the building. I kept knocking doors. No one answered. After a few minutes the kids were back followed by a teenage couple with a key in their hand. They led me to a building that looked abandoned. There were absolutely no signs telling me that this was a mini-market but as they opened that door it was like a glowing light of heaven almost blinding me. Inside there was indeed a mini-market. They had snickers, chips, crackers and best of all cold ice tea. I went totally bananas on a shopping frenzy and almost bought half the shop. It was a great afternoon in the sleepy ghost town of Tolep. The kids fetched their friends from school and we all sat for a couple of hours and goofed around while I was slowly hydrating and filling up my water reserves.
Beyneu and the last miles before UzbekistanThe day after my water panic day I entered Beyneu.This was actually my first real city in Kazakhstan. Kuryk doesn’t count as a city and I just cycled around Zhanaozen. It felt like a bustling metropolis after all those days in emptiness. I took some rest days here. Actually, I needed to do a long marathon day getting myself to Akau. The rear hub replacement and wheel build I had done at a bike shop in Dubai had turned out to be a poor job to say the least. My wheel was wobbly and I had felt it on the way to Beket Ata on the smooth asphalt. Early that morning, I took a shared taxi to Aktau which was more or less 500 km away from Beyneu. I sat for some hours at the bike shop in Aktau crossing all my fingers for them not giving a death sentence to my wheel. It turned out they had to cut and replace some spokes and they just had enough spokes of the correct length to complete the job. Another shared taxi back to Beyneu the same day. I was back in bed at midnight well pissed at the bike shop in Dubai for doing a half ass job. But you gotta roll with the punches and solve the problems that come your way. No reason to mope or sour up.
The next day the mood was high and still rising. I went to town to stock up on food supplies for my next days of cycling. Going around town I was surprised that I couldn’t find any real super markets. There were markets. They were just not that super. Perhaps I didn’t search the city well enough but all I could find was small mini markets with very little on the shelves. Basics like pasta and rice were available. Very little selection of dairy products from the cooler. I got some weird sweet cream cheese that I ate together with bread for lunch. The canned food selection was limited to tuna fish and horse meat. No beans or lentils on a can which had been the main one pot ingredient together with some canned tomato sauce and fresh veggies for a very long time. They did have dried up ramen noodles aka quick noodles and guess that just had to do the trick.
Buffed up on quick noodles and a fresh wheel build, I cycled towards the border with Uzbekistan. Ahead of me, just another round of steppe desert landscape in blazing heat on bad roads. A whole lot more empty roads for Dani and perhaps some more water panic situations. Nah, I should have planned my water stops very carefully for the first week in Uzbekistan but who knows what surprises awaits me. I almost can’t wait. More of that in my next journal entry.
2023-04-21 | itinerary
Biketouring route for Sudan with interactive map showing points of interest. Covering the roads from the Egyptian border town of Abu Simbel to Wadi Halfa, Abri and Dongola with a final stop in Karima
2023-07-04 | blog
Biketouring journal covering Uzbekistan and the roads from Karakalpakstan to Fergana via a short transit through Tajikistan. On my way I visited the old Silk Road towns of Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand.
Hi, I am Dani Kainoa. Summer of 2021, I set out on a journey to explore the world on a bicycle. Join my world biketour and follow my travel blog for stories, reviews, guides and more. Visit my photo journal on Instagram to keep up with more of my adventures.