Turkmenistan Part 4

Avina'larf with the kids in Erbent ...

The road out of Ashgabat ... Is in very good condition. Being concerned about being 'turned-over' by the local Rozzers, for deviating from our planned route (a fellow bike traveller Sheen, was given a hard-time for this misdemeanour only a couple months previously), so tried to make sure we got it right first time. We'd worked out there only one road going north, and that was the one which went past the airport and the big bazaar outside town. So long as we went past those land-marks were safe. Leaving town on the correct road, found it ran for mile after mile, after mile, after ...

Sand is a way of life in the middle of the Turkmen' desert

We travelled past low-level desert vegetation, small dunes and little else apart from the adjacent railway line, which paralleled the road on the left hand-side. Starting out late in the day, we knew it was gonna get warm. It did! Midday gave way to 1, 2 & 3 pm and the temperature rose way, way past 40 degrees. We thought we'd make a cursory attempt at doing something to stave off the expected heat, and so had stored half our water overnight in the freezer at Murat's. Within a couple of hours of leaving Ashgabat this ice had not only melted, but the water inside the bottles was actually hot. The desert had other ways of making it's presence felt. Within a short time after our departure, I encountered the same phenomena of hot-wind forcing me to keep my visor closed for relative coolness. I tried to kid myself I could take the heat, but it was uncomfortable. And was likely going to stay that way for a couple of days. We had a stoppover planned in Darvhaza where we'd heard there might be a yurt or two that we could cadge either accommodation or food. My thinking was at the time, that I'd rather camp on our 'Jack' to catch up and reflect on these experiences. It didn't work out quite that way ...

Me relaxing over a cuppa in Erbent, just before 'doing-in' my ankle!

Camel time!

Young lad on an Ish (Rusky built bike). You can't see it, but the tyres are wired to the rims and there's hardly any air in the tyres (good for riding over soft sand)

Our last refuelling stop was at Erbent, a small gathering of shabby buildings just off of the trunk-road. Sand was a way of life in that barren, forsaken place. As we rolled into town a few people appeared from ramshackle houses, curious to see who these strange looking travellers were. Shortly afterwards I had my first fall ... now I don't want to make too much of this, but will try to give you some idea of what it's like riding through loose sand. The first metre or two is okay, but as you proceed, the front wheel gets disconnected from the rear. It's as if the bike has suddenly had a universal joint inserted into the frame. But it's not a completely free uni'-joint, as there is a spring waiting to return the frame straight again. As this spring does it's job, the inertia then takes it past centre the other way. Normal handlebar movement and centre of gravity no longer works in the same predictable way. My only previous experience on sand was many years back, using my old Honda 250 in some dunes over in Wales. I recall it being great fun. That feeling of being on the edge was quite exciting back then, but here in the middle of the desert, being slowly grilled by the sun and dessicated by a fiery wind it was positively alarming. My first attempt at getting across a sandy drift was not able to relax into the manoeuvre, so lost vertical and dropped the bike to a soft slow motion landing. Bugger! I made a very half-hearted attempt at lifting it, but with all the luggage and lack of purchase on the sand couldn't lift it on my own. The easiest thing was to simply check and make sure I wasn't losing any fuel, or had shed any other load and waited for Bjorn to wander back to lend a hand and get the Dakar upright again. There came a repeat fall that happened after choosing to try and leave town on the slip-road that connects back to the main drag north. Again I was confronted by a good-sized drift and tried to barrel-thro', but no ... same story. Once more I waited for help, which came in the form of one of the local youth's, who helped hump the motorcycle back upright. It seemed as if the tyres were being held back by treacle and found the bike wouldn't roll where it was pushed. With Bjorn's help managed to turn around and attempt to go out on the road we came in on. And, dammit ... it was the same result in one of the deeper drifts. But this time there was a difference. In trying to scoot the bike upright before it went past the point of no return (it'd worked a couple of times on other short sandy drifts), my foot slid off into the soft stuff therefore giving zero purchase. Down I went, with said foot wedged under the left pannier. My body still having some forward inertia needed to lose energy, which meant I kept going. It doesn't take too much imagination to realise that with my foot wedged firmly between the ground and the bike, and my top-half still going, something was going to hurt. And it did! I can feel it now ... it had a wrenching sort of tearing feel to it, that told me all would not be well after this spill. Laying there for a moment zeroed my mind onto the spot where foot connects to leg, to try and determine whether it was serious. A couple of locals helped lift the heaviness off my leg letting me hobble vertical. Thankfully the worst of discomfort in the ankle receded, but was unable to put any weight on it. Another test hobble, told me things weren't too calamitous, but didn't fancy any more falls. This last fall was going to leave its legacy. Sightings of soft sand with no obvious way through, were going to make for some very nervous moments in the days to come.

There is a lot of this stuff in the middle of Turkmenistan!