Turkmenistan Tales

We were leaving the Middle East and ahead of us loomed the ‘Stans, more formally known as Central Asia, however first we had another border crossing to deal with. Having learnt by now to be prepared, our group was well armed not only with drinks and snacks but also books and laptops, though an impromptu team “push-ups” competition also livened the proceedings a bit. Finally Iranian bureaucracy was finished with us, a small bonus was that we were so late getting out of Iran that the Turkmenistan Customs officials rushed us through as they were due to finish and head home.

This meant we were through more quickly than expected and soon found ourselves riding down a beautiful mountain road as the sun was going down. Minutes later we found ourselves staring in awe as a cluster of white marble buildings seemed to rise from the floor of the desert. We had reached Ashgabat, the capital and a despot’s dream. The President who had been in charge since the end of the Soviet regime had insisted that every building in his capital be covered with white marble to make them more pleasing to look at. For most of us however, our eyes were drawn to the nearest bar which happened to be a British pub complete with a league football match showing on the TV. It was our first alcohol since leaving Eastern Turkey and the cold beers went down well, for some a little too well, particularly when they saw their bar bills.

We had two days of rest in the city and ventured out onto the streets for a walking tour with Oleg the guide. Wonderfully informative and an eye-opener into just how far a megalomaniac can take his ego in one city. Whichever way we looked there were statues and portraits of the Presidents with the current one rapidly replacing those of the old one with flattering images of himself. There were soldiers everywhere, ensuring that no pictures were taken of sensitive subjects, as it seemed a bit random just what was considered sensitive, many of us fell foul of them, at one point for just taking a snapshot of the stainless steel traffic lights. Our Swiss rider JB seemed to perfect the art of international espionage and was to be seen trotting away from angry militia at almost every corner – never once breaking into a sweat as they ran after him in hot pursuit.

After the chador clad women of Iran, here the females looked particularly graceful, the majority of them wearing long gowns that are brightly coloured and embroidered, and sporting long plaits and bejewelled skull caps. Whilst the men appear to favour huge fleecy and shaggy hats.
The heat of the desert meant we spent some time by the hotel pool where some riders provided us with a demonstration of yoga alongside one of Aussie yoga which makes good use of a cold can of beer to get that extra stretch.

Tiring of pool and city life we headed north, the roads after Ashgabat were to be straight ones as they cross the desert. In keeping with the police state policies of Turkmenistan, we had to travel in convoy at all times. The smooth tarmac of the city was quickly replaced by broken up slabs that we weaved our way around. We spotted our first camels and stopped to take pictures and marvel at the way they just wander out into the road oblivious to the traffic, which admittedly in the Kara Kum desert is few and far between.

The only garage in the area was out of petrol; luckily we were carrying some spare fuel. Our destination for the night was in the desert itself where after negotiating our way cautiously through some deep sand, we unloaded the tents and quickly set them up – some more quickly than others as the pop-up tent once more proved its worth. Kebabs were cooked over an open fire and a delicious meal was produced and eaten accompanied by cold beers as the sun went down. Once it was completely dark, we headed further into the desert to see the famous Flaming Gas Crater of Darvaza, a huge crater which lights up the night sky as the natural gas is burning where it seeps out through the cracks in the rocks. Some say it’s been burning for 60 years, but no-one seems to know exactly why it’s ablaze, rumours abound of Russian mining incompetence but the locals disagree. We watched it awestruck and took photos but none will do it justice. All agreed it was worth a night in a tent to witness such a spectacle.

The next morning back onto the desert road, which deteriorated as we ventured further north. The villages are polar opposites to Ashgabat, life is crowded, chaotic and often dirty, but we were greeted warmly at every settlement we rode through. It was a long day and when the border post was finally in sight we breathed a sigh of relief but we were in for a shock as the Uzbek border guards were almost sadistic in their attitude towards us. Forcing us to stand out in the desert sun for many hours while they very slowly processed the vehicles one at a time, searching through everything. Hours later we were finally through and as the sun set we turned south east to the fabled Silk Road City of Khiva.