An unexpected detour into Kazakhstan!

From Baku we would be catching the ferry across the Caspian. The Days of the P&O ferry from Dover were long since gone and it took a full two days to organise our ferry crossing but it was done in the end and we were running on schedule.

As the Turkmen border was closed we were heading for a Overlanding first, a few independent travellers may have ventured to Actau but it was last of any interest to tourist in the Soviet days when good communists were sent to its pretty beaches on their yearly summer break, the not so good ones were sent to Siberia for a slightly more extended holiday, but on we go.
Having no information on a town or city is always tricky but Exploration and Adventure is what it says on the side of the can so off we went.

The ferry crossing was an experience on its own, never knowing what to expect we take all our own food on board for three days even if we only expect to be out at sea for one. As it turned out this ferry had a nice galley but we chose to eat the truck food as we had it on board, the cabins were nice and clean too, which made a welcome change from Cher and my previous experience of Caspian “cruising”, so far so good, sunset on the Caspian is a sight to be remembered and folks were treated to a tour of the bridge and engine rooms all rather civilised; but we missed out on dinner with the captain as nobody had packed the fancy clothes.

The fun started on the second morning of the cruise as rumours spread of our arrival time, the most optimistic and laughable was at 4pm. How right they were though, as the city of Actau came into view over the Starboard bow at 3 and sure enough we were in spitting distance of the port by four, people were packing their bags and readying for a night on the town until the ungodly sound of the anchor being weighed rattled across the bout. Unfortunately I had been here before off the port of Turkmenbashi and had a sinking feeling, not in the literal sense, luckily, but they same cold fear, as last time we had looked towards the shore for three long days with no joy.

But in a sense we were luckier this time as at 12 that night there was a bang and a clatter as the cleaning staff arrived at our cabins, some folks with only a few moments of sleep were asked to leave their rooms as the vacuuming began and the anchor was shipped and we steamed into port, by two in the morning we were bussed from the boat to customs which slowly opened .By four we had cleared customs and the tea was on the gas cooker in the parking lot. Not much fun but as we had all expected the worst this was still sort of OK. But the big fun was still to come as I ran around to sort out the truck and found to my horror that even though the customs was open to clear people at 3 in the morning nothing could happen with our vehicle until 9am.

The photos tell the story better than I can.
So with a bounce in our step we headed into Actau to find a hotel as soon as we could and even though the accommodation was not up to our normal standard the promise of a mattress and pillow was all that was needed for people to get a good night’s rest.

So uncharted territory now we headed out for Beyneu. The road left a lot to be desired and we drove for about four hours before finding a bush camp in the wacky desert, the steppes as they are known, are massive expanses of open land with nothing to block your view except for the curve of the earth itself, making a person feel rather insignificant. The crazy rock formations scattered around with massive boulders worn nearly perfectly round by wind erosion are bizarre but the show stopper that evening was the incredible electric storm, photos nor words will ever do it justice as the wind howled and the sky rumbled with such force that the ground literally rattled beneath us; spectacular and scary the full force of nature shook us all.

The next day we returned to the sorry excuse for a road that had now turned into a mud bath, we slipped and skidded our way on to another camp, some amazing ridges turned up where the ground had been forced up in flat slabs but apart from the odd herd of camels it was only the horizon that watched us bounce our way slowly along.

One more camp and a quick look at the truck as we had bought bad diesel along the way and we were in Beyneu, a mud bath in the middle of nowhere. There was a surprisingly nice hotel given where we were, but we had to split the group unfortunately and some folks were in a small B&B, nice in itself but with the fiercest owner ever. Scowling at their dirty feet and yelling and screaming I’m sure everybody ate all their vegetables that night.

From Beyneu to the border the road was only marked as a jeep track and we were all relieved when in fact it turned out to be better than anything we had seen so far in Kazakhstan so we stopped at a local burial ground for a photo stop and the rolled onto the border for lunch. The border did not give us too many hassles though they were a bit shocked to see us. From here we rolled onto Kungard and the disappearing Aral Sea but more in the next Blog entry .