LONG WAY HOME - 27th July 2005 Tiblisi, Georgia Sue: July 27 - and we are late leaving Ashgabat, unwilling to prise ourself away from the 5-star luxury of the Sheraton that has cost us a measly 25 pounds each for bed and breakfast. We keep up a steady 50mph through the desert, most often below sea level. My Garmin has never registered -54ft before, and my bike has certainly never had to work in temperatures of 50+ degrees C.
Mick has a `feeling` and he is unwilling to stop for coffee or food breaks. We go with his hunch and arrive at 7pm at the port of Pharom with a lovely little ship moored and ready for leaving Turkmenistan by 7.30pm. The Gods are siliing at us, and, with an enormous amount of paperwork to get through, we manage to get on board for a cost of 188 dollars, two people two bikes. Turkmenistan does not do anything to encourage tourists, the amount of paperwork is enormous. Even the receipt for the money paid has five copies, each in triplicate, that needs two original signatures on it. The seamen are beginning to scream at us now, hurry hurry hurry.
Getting the bikes on board is slightly more difficult than the Hull-Zebrugge ferry terminal at Hull. These ferries take oil trains, so there are two sets of rail lines to be negotiated, both to be crossed at an angle as we ride up a wet greasy ramp. Despite being hurried on board, the ship does not sail for some reason or another, until 1am. It should be a 14hour crossing but, again, we are outside the harbour at Baku for another 10hours before docking. It is 12.30am before we clear customs and get a taxi driver to lead us to a hotel. What a farce that was. Several hotels wanted 250 dollars for what amounted to 6 hours sleep in a bed. No chance - don`t they know we in Yorkshire are careful with our money? We have no local currency, no petrol, no food or water but we head out of Baku. A petrol station is willing to fill us up for dollars, a small shop lets us buy water, biscuits and changes us some dollars, we are offered a bed in the back of the shop for a few hours but we decide to ride on. We call at a truck stop at 4a.m. and the owner sorts us out 3 chairs each to stretch out on, provides us with a cushion each and we snore for a few hours in his wooden Wendy House. This is when you know you are getting old - my back was killing me for hours after - and Mick was eaten alive by mosquitoes! Despite having a 30day tourist visa for Azerbaijan we were told by the customs men that we had to be out of the country in 72 hours. Bikes and cars are not welcome in Azerbaijan, so at 8am we are up and away to Gobustan to see the petroglyphs in the quarry. The site does not officially open until 10.30 so we had the place to ourselves and had a good look round. Thousands and thousands of stone paintings were found at the site in 1950, some reputed to be 3000 years old. I found it an amazing place, awesome indeed. It was a shame that we had to high tail it out of Azerbaijan, I would have liked to have spent more time there. Crossing into Georgia we also thought we might spend some time exploring, but the powers that be had other ideas. They gave us 7 days. I begin to feel that we are rushing through these countries, not able to see anything. Kevin Cain is a motorcyclist who lives in Georgia and he made us very welcome, meeting us outside Tiblisi and taking us to a hotel where our bikes would be safe. He is a mine of information and we would both like to express our appreciation to him for all his help. He rides an Adventure and knows only too well how the local populace take to bikes - they don`t! Survival skills are what keep you going in Georgia, the drivers are all tarred with the same brush - suicidal maniacs! If anybody is interested in riding through Georgia, Horizons Unlimited can put you in touch with him if you need any advice, and I am sure he will tell you that Georgia is as safe as any other country to ride a bike in. Leaving Tiblisi we were soon high up in the mountains heading for the little-used border crossing at Vale. High tree-covered hills, beautiful valleys and one of the worst roads I have ever ridden on. The usual loose gravel and pot holes but this time coupled with mountain ascents and descents. When we reached Turkey and the border police told us the road was very dangerous for the next 20 kms, I thought how could it be any worse! It was - the road men had re-surfaced the track and the gravel must have been at least three feet thick! These Continental TKC tyres are pretty damn good - not a slide or quivver from the bike's back end - my own told a different story! And so now Turkey - and the friendliness of the people is just amazing. Caught in a severe hail and thunder storm on the mountain road, we had been riding for about an hour when it became apparent we would have to stop - neither of us could see a thing and the road was getting washed away. A van driver pulled alongside us and indicated that we should get in his van and shelter for a while. He didn`t mind one bit about the dripping mess we were making. The mountains here are reputably full of terrorists, hopefully they are all busy hay-making along with the farmers. There is a strong army presence and we are advised to stop immediately if asked to do so by the armed forces - they shoot to kill. I may just leave my ear plugs out until we leave eastern Turkey! We have clawed back another hour, and are now only two hours in front of the UK, I think I want to carry on riding - a longer way home!
Mick: We left the Sheratan Five Star at Ashgabat amid smiles, waves and handshakes. It was a real pleasure for two sweaty and dusty motorcyclists to have been made so welcome. It was hot, over 40 degrees, and the frequent police checks didn`t help to keep our cool! As regular as clockwork, every 20 to 30 kilometres, the details from our passports, visas, and transit papers would be written down in longhand in a ledger! There must be rooms full of these ledgers... what do they do with them? I have this vision of some poor soul, probably on jankers, sitting and going through them, page to page, book to book, tracing the movement of someone dutifully going about their business! For three hundred and fifty miles, the road often below sea level, we kept going, heading west towards the ferry at Turkmenbashi... and out of Turkmenistan. An hour from the ferry we stopped, should we have a cuppa? I had a `dull thud` as Bert Tomtwistle often says, and we kept going. There would be a boat waiting for us. There was, and I`ve no doubt Sue will take you through the highs and lows of it all, but suffice to say that after a couple of hours of form-filling and bureaucracy like I`ve never seen before, and with the gates of the customs and ferry terminal clanking solidly behind us, we rode up the greasy ramps and on to the ferry. Now please, motorcyclists of Sheffield, do not complain about the Super Tram tracks, or indeed the ramps on to the P & O ferries, for these ramps had railway lines running up them, raised a couple of inches, and with three to four inch wide gaps at the side of them..... and we had to ride up and across them! The `bikes were tied down alongside the railway tankers carrying oil across the Caspian Sea, and were the only vehicular traffic on board! I`m trusting that Sue will tell you about the crossing, and being anchored up off Baku for some nine hours or so before being allowed to berth, leaving us on board for a total of maybe some twentynine hours.... but hey, we were out of Turkmenistan! We rode down the same ramp, after berthing, into the waiting arms of the friendly and helpful Azerbaijan customs, and disgorged into the city streets of Baku at 12.30am. The hotels wanted 250 US dollars for the remainder of the night, so we told them what they could do with their empty rooms, almost pulling wheelies as we accelarated out of their empty car parks! Calling at a small shop in the early hours for the statutory bottled water, Mars Bar and Snicker, we were greeted with smiles and handshakes. Offered a bed for the remainder of the night, we declined and rode off with a free melon... so very very friendly people. We`re heading south towards Gobuston, where ancient petroglyphs are to be found on the rocks in the mountains so, nearing the town, we pull into a truck stop intending to just get our heads down for an hour or two. The owner makes us welcome (it`s 4am) and we end up having a kip across three chairs the owner has arranged for each of us, but not before having a bier (me) and tea (Sue). Seven am and he cooks us a breakfast of eggs, bread and coffee... and won`t take a penny. We insist and pay him. Soon we`re high in the hills at Gobuston looking at ancient petroglyphs, (carvings into the rock face, of people, animals etc.) The rock face comes alive with the scratchings of ancient man. It`s 9am and the place isn`t open yet. We`ve climbed under the barrier and found the petroglyphs ourselves, marvelled at them, wondered what the people who did them were like. I touched one and thought of the person who did it.... We were on our way before the site was opened for the day's other tourists, heading west again... towards home! An overnight at Kirovabad (Ganga) and again made welcome at the Ganga Hotel. Under renovation but still a warm welcome, with the `bikes looked after by their security. Rough roads led from Azerbaijan to the Georgian border... as ever, the roads leaving one country for another in severe neglect. Again friendly and helpful border officials... but I now have a heavy cold and snivel everywhere. Sue goes off to do some of the paperwork and I`m left with the `bikes. A plain clothes policeman, of few words, gives me some melon, cold water, and then some chocolate. He must feel really sorry for me. I tell Sue on her return and she gets a bigger piece of melon. I give him a `police badge` for services above and beyond the call of duty! To Tbilisi and we meet up with Kevin Cain, a Brit working out there and, having got in touch through 'Horizons Unlimited, he had been most helpful with information, places to stay etc. The hotel that Kevin has taken us to is only five minutes from his house, air-conditioned, and has a lock-up garage for the `bikes. My BMW Rally jacket is washed by the hotel and comes up almost like new, we have a Bar-B-Q with Kevin, and just a few yards from our bike garage is a friendly mechanic who wants to help us. He gets us some oil and we check over both `bikes on the Sunday morning (31st) and change the oil. All is well, the `bikes are running great, although Sue`s F650 is a handful when cold, just cutting out. I guess one of the sensors has maybe called it a day, but once warmed up she goes like a bird! (the `bike silly!)