Tashkent

We arrived into Tashkent around 9:30PM that evening and went straight out with friends of Alex's to a traditional Uzbek restaurant. Alex has been to Uzbekistan several times already and has many friends in Tashkent.

We spent hours eating and making toasts to friendship, travelling, marriage, children, The Uzbek People, friends who were in London but with us in spirit (K, we drank for you several times) and many other worthy causes. Before we knew it, it was 3AM and time to head home. Stumbling out of a taxi, we went to bed. The following morning, we met Timur from Dolores Travel, one of our sponsors. They also handled all of our travel arrangements in Uzbekistan and were very helpful and flexible with our delays and hiccups.

Mike struggling to stay awake...

We took some photos of the three of us and the car in front of the Shodlik Palace Hotel. Funnily enough, before Dolores agreed to sponsor us we had chosen this as our hotel of choice in Tashkent. 

As the check engine light was still on, we had to take the car to a Toyota garage to have it looked at. Unable to find a garage we knew would have the diagnostics, we drove to the Toyota dealer and asked. They pointed us in the right direction, and we dropped the car off.

The main Tashkent train station

While the car was being looked at, some family friends took us to a nice restaurant by a river, where we tried to order plov, Uzbekistan's national dish. Being the national dish and extremely popular, they had sold out of it. Instead we had Lagman, which are a type of hand-stretched noodles and Honim. Honim are thin noodles with thinly-sliced meat, served with broth on the side.

Some delicious Honim

After lunch we drove back to the garage to pick up the car. It turns out all the issues were caused by a loose detonation sensor wire. The mechanics simply made sure it was tight and gave the car a once over. We wanted to be sure the car was functioning perfectly before crossing the Pamirs in Tajikistan.

We bade a fond farewell to Tashkent wishing we could have stayed longer with our friends.

Mike tightening the tyre before we left.  

Some filterleas Uzbek cigarettes that Alex found to everybody else's shock and horror. 

Samarkand

On our way to Samarkand, we passed a tiny Daihatsu van doing the Mongol Rally and gave them a wave.  

Simon and Sarah in their little van.

When we got to the hotel, Alex wanted to take the car to get it washed and fill it up with fuel. The hotel manager's nephew Amir, was designated to help him find his way around Samarkand. Having emptied the car of everything, Alex had foolishly left his driving licence in the hotel. As luck would have it, the police were stopping all vehicles at an impromptu check-point. The police officer explained that the car could not go any further and he was obliged to impound it. However, as Alex was a tourist he was happy to wait for the licence to be sent by taxi from the hotel, rather than impound the car. Furthermore, he graciously waived the fine as a contribution to our charitable fundraising efforts. Wishing Alex Godspeed and plenty of luck he bade him welcome to Samarkand.

Upon returning to the hotel, we saw the Daihatsu van. It turned out that not only were they staying at the same hotel, but Mike had also run into them in Shiraz, Iran! Simon and Sarah, a couple from Wales, had been convoying with another rally team staying at our hotel, so that evening, the three teams went to the only restaurant near our hotel that was open late. After plenty of beers and some good shashlik, we walked back to the hotel and agreed to all meet for breakfast the next morning.  

All the cars had developed mechanical issues. Our check engine light was on, the Daihatsu was having head gasket issues, and another team's brake light switch on their Polo had broken. The hotel found us a garage to take our cars to.  

Alex stayed to write some blog posts and Mike followed a guy to the garage, but when he got there, he discovered it was only a Chevrolet and Daewoo garage! (Daewoos and Chevrolets are the most popular cars in Uzbekistan, as they are built there). The mechanics were able to fix the Polo, but no such luck for our car or the Daihatsu, so Mike headed back to the hotel. As it was getting late in the day, we packed up and started heading to Tashkent, with the car still having issues and the check engine light still on.

On the way to get something to eat, we stopped off at a church. Much to Alex's surprise and amazement, it turned out to be the church of St Alexei! 

The nameplate of the Church of Saint Alexei

The church of Saint Alexei, which Alex discovered by happenstance.  

We stopped at an Oshona (eating establishment) next to the market. All they had left was Shorpa (lamb soup) and Dolma (stuffed peppers). We were glad that they had anything as were positively ravenous. We realised we'd struck gold when the food came out. The Shorpa was served with a liquid yoghurt and herb accompaniment and was full of flavour. We drank both bowls with lots of slurping noises. The Dolma were tender and succulent and we polished them off with gusto. All of this was washed down with a deliciously refreshing fruit Kompot - we purchased a litre and a half to take on our travels.

Our amazing lunch

Just before we left town, we stopped at Registan hoping to get a picture. Alex being the guy who can convince anyone of anything, jumped out and found the director and asked if we could take some pictures of our car in front of it Registan.

Our car in front in front of Registan

The director was extremely helpful. He agreed that instead of paying for an hour, we would only need to pay for fifteen minutes. First, we took some at the entrance to the complex, overlooking the palace. The local police were slightly nervous about our car in close proximity to so many people and gently asked us to take our shots as quickly as possible. As we finished, people began crowding around our car and taking pictures, many having wondered where we came from. 

Afterwards we drove down to do one right in front of the palace. We spent a few minutes there taking pictures and then thanked the officials and left. 

Who did we run into but Simon and Sarah and the other team. We were all very surprised to see each other after we'd already said goodbye. We once again bid each other farewell and made our way to Tashkent.

A van with its gas tanks secured "well"  we saw on the way

Khiva And Bukhara

We arrived in Khiva late at night (again)  and checked into our hotel. The following morning, Alex took the car to a local garage as the check engine light was on. The owner of the Old Khiva Hotel, Dilshod, very kindly accompanied Alex. The garage was closed, but they were more than happy to come in on their day off to help us. Unfortunately, they didn't have a diagnostics kit for our car. But as the car was also idling at very, very low RPMs, they checked the fuel pump.

The placement of the fuel pump is different in every car. Some are simply right under the car, others like ours, are inside the fuel tank. First, they unbolted the tank from underneath the car. Once that was done, they removed the fuel pump and checked it. All was ok, so they drained the tank to make it easier to put back on and then refilled it.

The mechanics working on the fuel pump.

Once all that was finished, we walked around the old city, which was just a minute's walk from the hotel. We explored the music museum and climbed up to the top of one of the minarets. The stairway up to the minaret was incredibly steep and the ceiling very low, so it was very easy to hit your head. We couldn't imagine having to climb it five times per day to call people to prayer! Once at the top, however we were rewarded with an amazing view of the old city.

The stunning view from the top of the minaret. Well worth the climb.

After a few minutes taking in the view, we climbed down to take photos of the car and left for Bukhara.

We arrived in Bukhara late that evening. (Another late arrival) The next morning we explored the old city and visited one of the oldest madrassas in Uzbekistan. We asked if we could drive into the area in front to take a photo of the car. Unfortunately, the director of the madrassa was away on business in Samarkand, so we had to settle for a photo of the car with the madrassa and minaret in the background. Once we got our pictures, we left for Samarkand. 

Parked in front of the madrassa in Bukhara.

Our car in front of the minaret in Bukhara

Nukus And The Aral Sea

After Mike spent two days in Almaty, Kazakhstan waiting for his Uzbek visa to start, he hopped on a flight to Tashkent and spent the night.  

The next morning, he boarded an Uzbek Airways flight to Nukus to meet Alex. The flight was sold out, but thanks to a big favour from the airline, he was able to make the flight!

Mike landed around 9:45 and got his bag. And then he waited, and waited and waited. Alex wasn't coming from that far away, but he had a border to cross and was driving in a road with so many potholes it was impossible to swerve and avoid them! 

Once Alex showed up around 2pm, the Albion Globetrotters were reunited once again! 

We tried to buy a SIM card, but discovered that since we had not yet checked into a hotel, they couldn't process it. So off to the hotel we went!

We arrived, unpacked our stuff, and settled in. We ended up eating dinner at the hotel that night as we both had work to do, so we worked over dinner and then went to bed so we could get up early the next morning to explore.  

We had two important things to see the next day. First was to see the Savitsky Collection, and the second was the ship graveyard in Muynak. 

The museum was just down the street, so we bought two tickets, and for just a bit more, a giuded tour as well. The main draw for the museum is the expansive collection of banned Soviet art, which was collected and hidden away by the museum's founder I.V Savistky. It also has a floor dedicated to the history of the region, the Republic of Karakalpakstan, an autonomous region within Uzbekistan. 

After an hour and a half wandering around seeing art you can see no where else, we walked back to the hotel and left for the 200km drive to Mynak, a town on the Aral Sea, or it used to be at least. 

Some delicious lunch we enjoyed along the way.

Raw cotton for sale in the market.

The Aral Sea once covered 68,000 square kilometres, but due to climate change and irrigation, it is today less than 10% of its original size. 

Our car on what used to be the seabed of the Aral Sea.

A line of abandoned ships.

Many ships were stranded as the sea level fell, and eight ships are still sitting on the sand outside Muynak, all once covered by water.  

Mike had thought there would be many more, but unfortunately when we arrived, we discovered most had been cut up for scrap. The eight still there are the only ones left. After exploring the ships, we headed to the abandoned fish canning factory to explore that. 

Our car next to one of the abandoned ships.

As we were walking through the grounds, we discovered a group of men doing demolition work. Inside one of the buildings, we came across a set of well preserved soviet health and safety posters. We asked if we could have them, and to our excitement, the team's boss said yes! They took them down for us and we packed them in our car. After some photos with the team, we left, and drove through the night to Bukhara.

On the way, we stopped off at a roadside restaurant. The basic rule of thumb is to only stop at ones that are busy, as they will have the freshest food. And fresh it was....As we were standing there to order fish, a fisherman walked up with a sack of fresh fish from the river a km or so behind the restaurant. They were all still very much alive, so we picked out a fish and the man went out back to gut it and fry it.

While we were waiting for our food, a man named Avaz and Alex got talking. After a bit, he brought his family over and introduced them, and then asked if we'd like to join them for dinner. Of course we would! So we took our food and walked over to their table, spending about an hour talking, joking and laughing. We took some photos of the group and then we said goodbye and were on our way.

A barbecue and the Karakum Desert

The following day while loading the car to leave, I came across the British Ambassador, Sanjay Wadvani OBE, checking out the car. We had a very pleasant conversation and it transpired that we were neighbours in London! After an obligatory photograph he wished me well and I picked up Misha and Artik to go for a barbecue. We drove to a lake near Ashgabat airport in a former sports complex and proceeded to prepare lunch. Lamb shashlik, Shurpa, salads and mixed roasted aubergines and tomatoes. Shurpa is a soup that is cooked on a wood fire with lamb and vegetables. While preparing the food we had a few vodkas and Chal, which is fermented camel's milk. This sparkling drink is delicious and very healthy.

Alex with Sanjay Wadvani OBE, the British Ambassador

Following a delicious lunch we went swimming in the lake. Lots of diving and horseplay followed. There was a rowboat that we commandeered and took it in turns to row or push the boat from behind. We also took turns in teaching the security guard's five year old son to swim. Thoroughly refreshed following the swim, we turned up the speakers on the car and proceeded to dance around the car, creating our own impromptu disco. Some slices of melon later and amidst exhortations to stay, I bid everyone farewell with a heavy heart. I would have gladly stayed for many more days.

A beautiful sunset over the lake

The three of us at the barbecue

Lunch

While driving to the gas crater at Darvaza, I stopped in Erbent to get some fuel and have a quick bite to eat. I ended up sharing a blanket with a lorry driver and a meteorologist, Arslan and Rashid. We had several kebabs and lots of tea. Enormous dung beetles and darkling beetles crawled a few feet away from us near the lights and the odd locust would jump around. Up above us was the most beautiful starry sky with the Milky Way gently glowing. On the road, lorries trundled through the night, young boys on motorcycles with no lights and cars from Dashoguz racing through the night to avoid the sunshine during the day. We sat for a couple of hours - when I tried to leave they would not allow me to pay the bill and insisted that they pay. No amount of arguing would make them change their mind; I gave them a tin of English tea as a thank you.

Once on the way to the gas crater at Darvaza, I was unable to find it. It is not signposted and at 3am it is not an easy thing to find. There was a slight glow on the horizon which led me to believe that I was in the right place. But there being no road I was unable to find it. I asked some lorry drivers for directions but everyone's directions were different and varied wildly. This resulted in my driving on various roads, down to train tracks, gas plants and everything possible under the sun except a gas crater. After an hour of looking around I was throughly fed-up.

The gas crater from afar

Meanwhile on the horizon the glow mocked me gently, like a Fata Morgana singing its siren-call. I made up my mind to try the off road route. At that point a local chap who'd been sleeping in a jeep came up to me. Through a mixture of Russian, sign language and Turkmen he indicated that I could follow him to the gas crater. After negotiating a price he got into his car and we bombed it up like lunatics over sand dunes and lots of fine, slippery sand. I realised that there was no way on God's Earth that I would be able to find the crater on my own and understood why I'd been unable to find it. After flying 9km at speeds over 40mph on the sand we arrived at the Gas Crater. What was unusual was that it was not one continuous fire but rather a series of smaller fires which combined together to give a fierce glow. When the wind blew the heat towards me it was unbearable.

On the way down, the Beast got stuck. This wasn't very surprising as I hadn't lowered the tyre pressures or engaged the diff-lock. If anything it was a wonder that the car had managed to do so well on the sand in ordinary drive mode. After engaging the diff-lock and putting the car into a lower gear and some judicious driving backwards and forwards I got out of the sand. While driving back to the road I noticed a campsite full of Mongol Rally participants and momentarily debated whether to pitch a tent and get some sleep. I decided that the Karakum during the day after three hours sleep was perhaps not the wisest choice in the world. So it was back onto the road and I started bombing it up to Konye-Urgench. Surrounding me was the most beautiful wall of stars ever seen.

The gas crater  

The road from Darvaza to Konye-Urgench is an interesting road. It is easily the worse road that I have driven on so far. This was a series of potholes interspersed with road. Next to the road was a sand road that had been levelled out. One of the locals had recommended driving on this rather than the main road. I gladly took their advice and belted it up this road making my own sandstorm behind me. Every so often I would have to drive on the main road, at which point I would have to swerve constantly to avoid the potholes like a demented Olympic slalom skier!

Potholes on potholes on potholes  

Sunrise and sunset in the desert are both incredibly beautiful. Whereas sunset is welcomed as the preface to cooler temperatures, sunrise is feared as it is the onset of fierce temperatures and punishing heat. While it was a beautiful sight, it merely led me to exhort the car to greater efforts, punishing my back and the cars suspension. In the meantime the sand of the Karakum Desert was drifting into the car. I resorted to driving in a Chaffiyeh that I'd purchased in Iran. While the prevented sand getting into my nostrils, the rest of the car was caked in dust and I had become blond!

The only way to drive and keep all the dust out.  

Highlights of the drive included a bridge that was perfectly surfaced - however in a sublime twist of irony both approaches to the bridge were mud road. There was a lot of off-road driving, where it was easier to drive next to the road than on it. Villagers stared at the spectacle of a car covered in stickers belting it across stretches of road like a Dashoguz racing driver (Dashoguz drivers are renown for driving with a metaphoric brick tied to their feet). After four hours of this horrible, challenging, pockmarked road I arrived in Konye-Urgench.

A quick tour of the historic ruins of the town dating back to the times of Khwarezm, spending my last manat on fuel and some Turkmen Gok-Chai (Green tea) and it was off to the border for me. Meanwhile, the 37 degree heat at 0900 in the morning confirmed that it had been a good idea to drive through the night through the inhospitable Karakum.

Some beautiful scenery along the way.  

Alex in Ashgabat

When I woke up the next day I realised I was exhausted and needed a rest day. I proceeded to use the time to get some errands done, including changing the antifreeze, registering with the migrational authorities and trying to change my route in Turkmenistan. When I arrived at the Migration Authorities, I was told that as I was on a transit visa, I didn't need to register. I was slightly unsure as everyone had told me that you have to register - I was given short shrift by the lady and told to go on my way. After this a one hour drive around Ashgabat followed looking for the offices of the Auto-Transport ministry. No-one knew where it was. I was first sent to the Transport Police building near the train station, then the roads ministry and then the road tolls ministry. At this point it was lunch and I realised that I could easily spend a day doing this. So I gave up the ghost and went to have lunch.

A wide boulevard in Ashgabat.  

A rocket shaped thermometer.  

In 35 degree heat I walked up five flights of stairs to a restaurant next to the Teke Bazaar. When I walked in, there was no daylight. It was like walking into a nightclub, with booths and curtained off VIP areas; only this was a restaurant serving lunch, full of young Turkmens on their lunch break! The owner came over to greet me warmly and told me what a great honour it was for them to have me for lunch. Lunch was indeed delicious. I had Kakmaç which is thinly sliced mutton that is then beaten, fried in mutton fat with onions and served with french fries. The meat was delicious and feeling fortified I ventured into the sunshine to get some fruit and then get the antifreeze on the car changed.

Kakmac.

Later that evening, while driving to a restaurant for dinner, a car pulled up at the traffic lights and one of the occupants greeted me warmly. It turned out it was Misha, the chap I'd met at the cafe the previous evening. I asked him for directions and he got of his gypsy cab (a car that is driving in the same direction as you and is dropping you off for a small sum, far cheaper than an ordinary taxi) and jumped into my car with his friend Artik. I invited them for a beer and we stopped off at a restaurant called Merdem.

A gold statue of Turkmenbashi, the first leader of Turkmenistan.  

This is a traditional Turkmen restaurant where you sit in yurts and no alcohol is served. I had a quick bowl of Dograma and then we went to a bar to get a beer. Dograma is a traditional Turkmen dish. Mutton is boiled until it is tender enough to fall of the bone. Then baked flatbreads are torn into small pieces and mixed with meat and onions. This is then put in a bowl and covered with hot broth. Very delicious.

The inside of the yurt.  

In Ashgabat most places close at 2200. Therefore after this we went to Misha's house we had some beers in the garden outside his house. We agreed that the next day we would go for a barbecue. 

The circus in Ashgabat.  

The Turkmen Border and Ashgabat

After 3 hours of sleep it was time to leave Iran for Turkmenistan. We belted it as fast as possible to Bajgiran passing through some beautiful mountains. All of a sudden we came upon rows of trees that looked completely out of place. Passing them and women washing their clothes in a stream we arrived at the border town of Bajgiran. Colourfully dressed Turkmen women were doing their shopping here, interspersed with soldiers armed with Kalashnikovs keeping a look-out. At one point we almost crashed the car as we were taken aback by the sight of a soldier armed with a bazooka!

 On the Iranian side there was the obligatory paperwork that needed to be processed. In the customs processing office. I had a 15 minute conversation with a former volleyball player, in which we both tried to outdo each other in bestowing compliments upon each other. While it drags things out, it is also incredibly useful. 

“Mr Alex. They have made several mistakes on writing the chassis number of your car in Nordooz. But you are an internationally sophisticated man with whom it is a pleasure to converse. We will accept that this is a mistake by the other border post and will make sure this does not result in any repercussions and that you are still able to leave Iran. But of course we want you to come back and experience our hospitality!”

 Once I left Iran it was time to enter the Howdan border crossing on the Turkmen side. A few years ago this crossing had 150 lorries daily transiting. However, due to a weight restriction on the roads, no lorries over 20 tons can pass. Therefore this border crossing sees about 20 vehicles a day crossing it, which means it has a sleepy air to it. Upon entering the migration hall there were a couple of teams from the other rally. Lunch was from 1200 to 1300 and so everyone had to wait. Unfortunately one of the teams had arrived just before 1200, so they had to wait for over an hour for someone to issue them a visa. To make it worse, there was a slight issue with the computers to issue the visa. At 1300 when the lunch hour was over, they were given the worse news that they would have to wait at least another hour. The external technical support office took their lunch between 1300 and 1400! The border guards were most apologetic and asked me to translate for them.

 When the visa was stamped it was off to fill in all the forms for the car. First up was a road map, which showed which route I was allowed to take. Deviation from this route would result in a fine of $1,000. I then had a fuel tax to pay; as fuel is heavily subsidised in Turkmenistan, foreigners have to pay a compensatory tax for the fuel they use. There was then a visit to the veterinary office and to the quarantine office. However, both the officials were playing dominos in the same office, slamming down tiles with large amounts of aggression! After this it was time to go through customs, pay the requisite fees and have the car searched. Drones are illegal in Turkmenistan; however rather than confiscate our drone, they put a customs seal on it so that it could transit the country without being used. Behind me there were 3 other Mongol Rally teams. Once again I was asked to translate. I suggested that they bring me a piece of paper and a pen. Within two minutes I was sitting behind the desk of the Turkmen customs office writing out questions in English for future tourists! I asked if they could take a picture of me doing this, but as it’s a border they were unable to oblige.

The border official writing out the road map.  

The map showing the allowed route. 

Leaving Howdan I came across the most stunning mountain scenery I had seen in ages. I drove at about 10km per hour stopping to take plenty of pictures of the surroundings, including a snake that had decided to take a languorous rest in the middle of the road! Passing by a soldier at one point I stopped to share a cigarette with him – he asked me if I had any water and I gave him a couple of bottles. At the entrance to Ashgabat was an army checkpoint. They asked me politely if I had taken any pictures, as the whole 35km to Ashgabat is a militarised border zone. I confirmed I had and was asked to show him the pictures I had taken. I obliged and he realised I was a tourist with a passion for beautiful mountains rather than a spy – I was wished a good day and a safe trip.

A snake relaxing in the middle of the road

Some of the amazing scenery

 Ashgabat is like no other city. Wide four lane boulevards, imposing white marble buildings everywhere, a sense of cleanliness and order and a general pervasive quiet. Driving through the centre of town there was none of the mad intensity of Iranian traffic. Motorbikes, tinted windows, loud music, permanent import of right hand drive cars and xenon headlights are not allowed. Cars have to be kept clean at all times so I asked a police officer which way to the hotel and to the nearest car wash. There are also a lot of police officers everywhere - one on almost every street corner.

The Beast getting a bath

Turkmen are also very friendly. The car was very unusual – being right hand drive, covered in stickers and having tinted windows. This meant it drew a lot of attention from the locals who would drive alongside grinning inanely, waving at me and hooting their horns. While waiting at a petrol station a lady in the car next to me rolled down her window and started addressing me in flawless English. It turned out she lived in Edmonton and was visiting her parents. Her mother promptly leaned over and invited me for dinner and to stay with them while I was in Turkmenistan! I politely declined, explaining that I'd already booked a hotel. When I asked them where the local market was they insisted that I follow them there, rather than giving me directions.

While having a quick dinner at a cafe near the hotel, I met a local chap called Misha. We had a quick chat about Ashgabat and Turkmenistan. Afterwards I went to sleep, full of Turkmen food, images of Ashgabat and the stunning Kopet Dag / Turkmen-Khorasan mountains.

Alex in Tehran

While Mike and Hamid were flying to the South of Iran, someone had to stay in Tehran and wait for the car to be repaired. As I had a lot of work to do it felt an opportune moment to volunteer to stay. We elected to send our guide, Hamid with Mike to Shiraz as he was a citizen of America and so needed the guide more than I did.

Traffic chaos in Tehran

Day one passed uneventfully. On day two I received a phone call from the tour agency asking where I was.

"At the barbers getting a haircut"                                                                                               

 "You must go back to the hotel immediately. You have no guide and the police are very angry"

"What are you talking about?"

"Mike went to extend his visa. The police want to know why you are in Tehran with no guide."

An hour later I was back in the hotel and another guide, Pejman arrived. We went to collect the car which cost us 16 million Riyals (yes 16 million!). The mechanics in the garage had changed the viscous coupling, put new seals in the master cylinder and bled the brakes. 

The team of mechanics that fixed our car

The Palace of  Golestan, which Alex explored

The following day at 11am I received a phone call on the hotel phone.

"Alex good morning. This is Pejman. I am downstairs in reception. We need to go the Police"

"Why?"

"They want to talk to you. I don't know why, but they want to talk to you"

Following the phone call of the previous day I had a slightly grim sense of foreboding - I had visions of angry policemen shouting at me for not having a guide. We jumped in the car and drove to building in the middle of town. After the obligatory metal detector and search I was greeted on the 5th floor by two police officers, one male and one female. They had big smiles on their faces and greeted me very warmly. 

"How are you? How is your stay in Tehran? Are you enjoying yourself? How are the English Police? What is your opinion of the Iranian Police? What food have you tried here in Iran?"

Having answered their questions and slightly confused by now I asked why I was there. It turned out that our Tour Agency had informed the MFA (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) of our trip but not the police. They were therefore very surprised when our hotel registered us and Mike walked into the police station in Shiraz. They wanted to see who I was and to give me a police registration code. They were very concerned as to the fact that I had seen so little of Iran and offered to extend my visa. I explained that I was leaving the next day for Turkmenistan and so was unable to stay.

The lady then disappeared and came back after a couple of minutes with a plate of food. She said she'd noticed me smelling the air and had realised that I had smelt lunch and wanted me to try their food. It was a mixture of potatoes, egg, tomato and fresh herbs. Very delicious too!  We parted very warmly, with my ears full of their entreaties to come back and visit Iran again. They also added that if God forbid, I had any problems with getting into Turkmenistan, that despite my visa finishing that day I should call them and they would happily extend it immediately for me, even if I had already exited the country. So much for their being angry!

The main bazaar in Tehran.  

From there Pejman and I went back to the hotel, got our bags and drove for 8.5 hours to Mashhad, passing through equal measures of dusty desert and beautiful hills and scenery. A special mention must go to the Mountains of Mars (Merrikhi)near Chabahar. They were very beautiful and looked like the scene of a science fiction film.

Driving through beautiful scenery on the way to the Turkmen border

Mike In Shiraz

The woman from the agency recommended Mike try and extend his visa, so the next morning, Mike and Hamid went the next morning to the visa office, and after some back and forth, handed over his passport, and Hamid handed over his guide license, and were told to come back that afternoon.

They returned later, but the office had unexpectedly closed early! Left with no choice, they had to stay another night in Shiraz. Trying to make the best out of the situation, they hired a taxi to take them to Persepolis, an ancient city that was the site of an epic battle with Alexander the Great.

Persepolis

Persepolis from a nearby hill.

After walking around for a few hours, and taking lots of pictures, they went back to the hotel and got ready for a very late dinner. Afterwards, they went to bed, gearing up to deal with the visa office yet again.

They arrived at the visa office around 9:30 the next morning. And they waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally around 12:30, they were ready to extend it. But they got confused over Mike's visa. He has a journalist visa, but is in Iran as a tourist, which has confused almost every border guard and policeman who's looked at his visa! After more calls to Tehran, they were told to keep waiting. 

After a few more hours, they wanted to look at Mike's camera, to make sure he really was here as a tourist and not a journalist, so they asked Hamid to get it from the hotel. Once he came back with it, they waited another 45 minutes for them to have a look, and of course all was OK. They still wanted to extend my visa, but told us they would need another day because of the visa type confusion. Not having another day to wait, Mike didn't have a choice except to withdraw his application and leave Iran the next day.

That evening before leaving, Hamid took Mike to the Shāh Chérāgh, a holy shrine and the only one in Iran non Muslims are allowed to go inside.

Inside the shrine. 

The tour agency recommended Mike and Hamid fly back to Tehran rather than meet Alex in Mashhad, as he was driving from Tehran. Taking their advice, they got the last flight back at 11PM. The plane was an ancient MD-83, one that hasn't been made for almost 20 years! The air conditioning on planes is run off one of the engines, and it was so bad it only worked then the pilots throttled up for takeoff! Because of this, they spent the boarding process and taxi sweating in horrible heat and humidity. Finally, after the creaking plane lumbered into the air, it cooled down in the cabin, and they relaxed for the flight back to Tehran. 

The flight was delayed about a half an hour and arrived into a manic Tehran airport. The signs for baggage reclaim were off, so there was no way to know which carousel to claim your bag! Hamid and Mike split up, each taking a carousel, hoping one of them was the right one. After about 20 minutes, Hamid found Mike and had his bag. They made their way to the hotel and another 2AM arrival. 

Mike and Hamid walked around the main bazaar in Tehran on the morning of the second, the last day of Mike's visa. Afterwards, they got in a taxi to the airport, where Mike said goodbye to Hamid and checked in for his flight to Almaty. The queue for passport control took quite a while, and while waiting in line, he had a flashback to the end of the movie Argo, where they are detained before being let go. Of course none of this happened, and Mike was let through without any issues.

Tehran, Day Two

The next morning, Alex had a bunch of work to do, so Mike and Hamid took the car to try and find a part. On the way, Mike had a look under the car and discovered a set of vice grips still attached to the front left brakes! This left the brake system valve open, so every time we stepped on the brakes, we lost more brake fluid!

The vice grips the mechanic left on the brakes! 

We stopped off at a parts dealer who didn’t have what we needed, but was very helpful and made some calls for us. After lots of calling, he found a place that said they had it. However, as it was the Friday of a national holiday weekend, they were closed, but said if the security guard was still around, he could let us in so we could buy the part. Ten minutes later they called back, saying they were sorry but he had left for the day! So much for getting our hopes up!

After a bit more calling, he found another shop that said they had it, but it was the same story. Mike even offered to pay the guard to come back and let us in, but they said no. Luckily there was another mechanic behind the parts shop, so we took the car there to get it looked at. He bled the brakes and had another look at the coupling. The previous mechanic has caused all kinds of trouble though. Because he shrunk it while welding it, the new mechanic had to pry it off with a hammer and chisel, and then replace the four bolts holding it because they got destroyed trying to take it off.

It was a Friday, but because we were foreigners he wanted to be super helpful and stayed late to work on the car. Eventually, it got too late, and it was time for him to go home. Having no choice but to leave the car overnight, Mike and Hamid had to skip Isfahan and spend another night in Tehran.

The next morning, with the mechanic unable to find the part, Mike and Hamid went door to door at the parts shops trying to find the part. After hours of searching, they had to give up. As Alex had work to do, we decided Mike and Hamid would fly to Shiraz to visit Persepolis, while Alex would continue working in Tehran and wait for the car to be finished.

No Land Cruiser parts here... 

Later that evening, Mike and Hamid went to the airport and boarded an ancient 737 for the one and a half hour flight. The flight even included a tasty in flight chicken sandwich, and was only $45/person. Good luck finding that in England or the US! They arrived late that night, and Mike met with a woman from the tour agency. 

The ancient 737 Mike and Hamid flew on.  

The quite tasty inflight meal.  

In the meantime we got further news from London. Mike’s visa application for Turkmenistan had been rejected, so he either had to try and extend his Iranian visa by two days until his Uzbekistan visa started, or fly to Almaty and wait there for two days. It had been a bad Friday.

Tehran, Day One

After leaving for Tehran, we made it about 100km, before the car started overheating again. We had to stop every 30 or 40km to let the car cool down, and at one point we took out ratchet straps and tied the bonnet open to help with air flow. We also had to switch the heating on while driving - combined with 35 degree heat outside Hamid and Alex were boiled to within an inch of their lives! Combining this with driving at 70km/hr or less, we barely made it to the outskirts of Tehran. 

We went to another mechanic Hamid knew, but he didn’t have the time to work on our car. So, we drove on down the road, stopping at the next mechanic we saw. Unbeknownst to us at the time, this would turn out to be a disaster!

The mechanics working on our car.

We told him about the overheating, and he confirmed it was the viscous coupling, which is essentially a clutch that controls the radiator fan speed. We had suspected this earlier on our drive but weren’t sure. Not to worry he said, he made a few calls and came back saying he could get a new one for around $100 including installation. This is very cheap, so we were happy to not have to spend a fortune.

The so called "Toyota Expert at the garage, looking at our car.

However, about 10 minutes later, we saw him trying to fit the old one back! Hamid asked what was going on and it turned out the parts shop thought they had the correct one in stock, but it was actually for a Nissan! He thought he could weld it, so the fan would simply turn as fast as the revs. This would make the car very loud, and increase our fuel consumption from an already abysmal 19L/100km, but at least the car wouldn’t overheat.

After about an hour of tinkering, he installed the old coupling with two steel rods welded on it to keep it locked. However, because welding causes metal to shrink slightly, he had to force it on. We also mentioned we needed the brakes bled, so he went about doing that. Once that was done, we paid him, in dollars because we had no rials and the exchanges were closed by this point.

The mechanic modifying our viscous coupling.

Happy to have what we thought was a working car, we drove off to the hotel. Alex asked how long the repair would last. The mechanic said to us “It will get you all the way back to London!” Alex looked at Mike and said “This will either last 15 minutes or will be good repair.” We made it less than 5km down the road, and while sitting in traffic, heard a clunk. We pulled over and investigated and discovered both rods holding the coupling had fallen off and were sitting in the road! Now back to square one with the coupling, we had no choice but to soldier on to the hotel. While driving Alex noticed that our brakes were getting progressively weaker.

They had been much better when we left the mechanic’s workshop but after the coupling broke again, got progressively worse. We arrived at the hotel with brakes so inadequate that when you put the car from neutral into drive, it inched forward. Happy to have made it in one piece though, we checked in and went to bed.

Tabriz, Day Two

The next morning we woke up, ate breakfast, and called the mechanic to see what the problem was. He explained our brake master cylinder had gone, but he would look for a new one.

In the mean time, we walked around the Tabriz Bazaar, another UNESCO World Heritage Site and the largest covered bazaar in the world. The bazaar is extremely busy, with people walking in every which way. This, complete with porters delivering goods, and men on motorbikes riding through, makes it quite dangerous to walk around, and if you don’t pay attention, you could easily get run over by a motorbike or a cart wheel.

The gold and silver section of the bazaar.  

Carpets in the bazaar

While doing plenty of window shopping, the mechanic called. He was able to find a master cylinder. But finding it didn’t simply involve going to the local parts shop and buying it. 80-Series Land Cruisers are quite unique in Iran. Only two types of people drive them. Tour companies and smugglers. He therefore sourced our part from some smugglers who operated on the Iran-Iraq border. We didn’t care where it had come from, we just needed it ASAP. So he had it put on a bus to Tabriz, and it arrived late that afternoon.

We also went to purchase a local SIM card. To do this you had to bring your passport and register. While filling the forms out Mike had to put his fingerprint as well as his signature!

Mike signing the paperwork

....And after.  

Hamid took us to an excellent restaurant for lunch were we ordered more kebabs and Dizi. Dizi is a mutton stew thickened with chick peas, that is cooked in a traditional pot. The broth is fairly liquid and is consumed separately. Once the broth has been eaten, the meat and chick peas are mashed together and then the remaining puree is eaten with bread. Iranian bread is delicious especially Sangak! 

A massive piece of Sanjak! 

Iran Traffic Police's newest recruit! 

We planned to go to Tehran that night, but the part for the car was talking longer to arrive than expected due to traffic. So at the recommendation of the tour agency, we changed our hotel and decided to spend the night in Zanjan, a city which is about half way.

Some delicious cookies we had before we left Tabriz

Finally that evening, the car was ready. The mechanic had fixed the rally headlights, reattached the light bar which had been knocked off the first Land Cruiser in the accident, and changed the master cylinder. He also adjusted the cooling and idle point, hoping it would fix our overheating issue and the stalling which happens when we slow down from high speeds. However, because we were pressed for time, he didn’t bleed the brakes. Since they were much improved from having basically none, we figured we would get them bled in Tehran.

A bus with some "extra" cooling

Late that night, around 10PM, we were off to Zanjan, arriving around 2AM. Early the next morning we left for Tehran, and what an “adventure” that would become.

Tabriz, Day One

After crossing the border, we stopped at a restaurant for a quick bite to eat. It was quite cheap, about $5/person for a decent meal. Afterwards we drove to the ancient St. Stephanos Armenian Monastery near the border to check it out. 

St. Stephanos Monestaru

While driving up a long hill to get there, Hamid noticed the car was overheating. We managed to get to the top and let the car rest while we walked around the monastery, which was built in the 7th century and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. After wandering around, we went back to the car to make sure everything was ok. Opening up the bonnet, we checked the water pump and coolant levels, but all appeared to be working.

Not knowing quite what the problem was, we took it slow back to Jolfa to get fuel, driving in low gears down hills because our brakes weren’t working too well.

After filling up with fuel, we drove to Tabriz, the first stop on our eight day tour. Mike was driving and promptly got pulled over for speeding! Apparently he was going 140km/hr in a 100km/hr zone! In his defense, the speedo in the car is broken! 

Just like in the bazaars, when you get pulled over for speeding, you negotiate! Hamid did this expertly. First the policeman wanted to confiscate Mike’s license for six days, but Hamid explained we had an itinerary and couldn’t come back to pick it up. So he knocked it down to three days. Hamid continued negotiating and got it down to six hours. Of course we still didn't want to sit and wait for six hours, so we said we’d pay whatever the fine was on the spot to avoid waiting. This is officially offering to pay the fine, but really everyone knows you’re offering to pay now because you know the policeman will keep the money as a bribe. Fed up with negotiating, the officer gave up, handed Mike’s license back and said we were free to go, paying neither the fine, or getting the license confiscated! 

Of course, after this experience, Mike was very careful to obey the speed limit, using an iPhoneas a speedometer! We drove straight to a garage, arriving at 9:30PM, where a mechanic Hamid knew was waiting for us. We explained what was wrong, the additional work we wanted done and he then kindly drove us to our hotel.

After dropping our stuff off at the hotel, we walked down the street to a traditional tea house. It was in an ancient bath house and was full of historic pictures of Iranian heroes including Bagher Khan. Tabriz was the an important part of the Persian Constitutional Revolution of 1907. After dining on the excellent kebabs we returned to our hotel.

The tea house. 

Entering Iran

After months spent getting our visas, we were finally at the border to use them. But first we had to deal with exiting Armenia.

Mike stayed in the car while Alex went to organise the paperwork for exporting the car from Armenia. Thick fugs of smoke from Iranian lorry drivers enveloped the waiting hall, while of course all the Armenian border guards smoked in their offices. He had to go to four different windows to get various forms stamped. When entering Armenia, Alex and Vova had been told that they would receive a rebate on the import duty. Here it turned out that actually we had to pay to get the car exported! After a blistering argument between Alex and one of the customs officers, the money was paid to the local branch of Araratbank. 

Once that was done, we crossed the bridge over the river to the Iranian side. We pulled up to a little hut and stopped in front of the gate. We got out for a quick paperwork check, but first the border guard wanted us to move our car. He not speaking English, and neither of us knowing any Farsi, it was a bit of an adventure. 

First, we thought he was motioning to back up to let a lorry through, but that wasn't it. Then we thought he meant for us to park in front of the other gate, so we did that. But nope, that wasn't correct either. Finally we figured out what he wanted, which was to park facing the kerb splitting the two lanes. Once that was done, he made a drinking motion: i.e asking if we had any alcohol. We were very careful to search the car beforehand to make sure we didn't make a mistake.

It was a pretty quick search and once he was done, we proceed through the gate and to the immigration hall. This is where the real fun began.

We waited briefly for an English speaking boarder guard and presented our passports. They asked us what we did for a living, our father's name, and some other basic information. We realised he had the application form in front of him and wanted us to answer exactly as we had put on the form. Like most of the staff he was dressed in civilian clothing. He also had a very bushy moustache and each time he tapped the computer keyboard, he would lift his fingers up with a flourish akin to a concert pianist.

This was all well and good, except there was a problem with Mike's visa. Well two, actually. Iran and the US do not have diplomatic relations, so Pakistan carries out Iran's interests in the US along with issuing visas. The first mistake was they had put the visa issue date the same as the visa start date. As the issue date was written in the Iranian calendar and the start date in the western calendar, Mike had no way of knowing this beforehand. 

The second mistake was he had been issued a journalist visa. Mike had come as a tourist, but as he is a photographer, they'd asked him to apply as a journalist. So, with two errors on the visa, we were told to wait.

And so we waited, and waited, and waited... A few hours ticked by and an official with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs came out and asked us a few questions. We wrote down our itinerary for him and he apologized profusely for the length of time it was taking. Alex thought the only country where he didn't speak the language would be Iran, but he was wrong! Amir, the MFA official used to be a consular officer in a number of embassies in Europe and had been the Iranian consul in the former Yugoslavia for 5 years, so of course Alex and Amir could speak in Serbo-Croat!

We enjoyed talking with him while he did the paperwork and made copies of our visas and passports. Once this was done, Alex went to get the carnet completed for the car and Amir took Mike for tea.

The agent who was organising the carnet and the paperwork was a cross between Speedy Gonzales and Roadrunner. He ran from office to office, brandishing sheaves of paperwork and marshalling the Iranian customs officers with impressive determination. Nothing was going to put him off getting our paperwork pushed through. It was hard to imagine anyone putting up any resistance to this force of nature that had found its niche in the border crossing of Nordooz. Sure enough in a short period of time the carnet was issued and we could legally drive in Iran!

Our car under a giant Iranian flag at the border

Meanwhile, Mike followed Amir through the hall and to a little structure out back, which was basically a restaurant for border guards and other employees. There, Mike sat and talked with them while waiting for Alex. After tea, Amir kept Mike company until Alex arrived, recommending a few restaurants down the road and providing a map.

Finally, after almost 40 minutes of paperwork, Alex arrived with the car and Hamid, our guide. Finally it was time to say goodbye and thank Amir for his hospitality, but not before a few obligatory photos. Once these were taken, we were on our way into Iran!

Amir, center, who was super helpful, and gave a great welcome!

Armenia

After driving for many hours to Tbilisi we then headed south to Yerevan. We got to the border around 2200. Leaving Georgia was a quick process. The Armenian border was slightly more complex. Our passports were scrutinised closely as we had been to Azerbaijan. They wanted to know why. In the meantime we noticed that one of the customs officers was playing Candy Crush on his computer!

Once our passports were returned we tried to leave but were turned back as we had not paid the entry tax and the ecological tax. Alex and Vova walked into an office where everyone was smoking and there were lots of wires all over the place. Somehow Vova had accumulated a stash of 500 Dram coins and proceeded to pay the taxes with these much to the amusement of the bank clerk. The cashier's office had been knocked up out of plasterboard and had a window which had no security features although the staff at the Custom's Broker Office did say that it took the most money out of all the branches of Araratbank. They then took the forms to a man who was chain smoking and playing Spider Solitaire. He proceed to stamp the forms with six different stamps and sat down to continue his game. They asked how long it would take to drive to Yerevan. We were told three and a half hours. We asked if it could be done quicker and everyone laughed at us. Slightly puzzled we commenced our drive to Yerevan.

At this point we understood why everyone had laughed at us. To say the road was bad would be the understatement of the century. There were no lights and the potholes were such that we had to constantly slalom to avoid them. Tunnels had no lights and the roads were like freshly ploughed fields. We latched onto the back of some locals and proceeded to follow them as they seemed to know where the potholes were. What made it worse was that we realised that the scenery was stunning and we were really annoyed that we couldn't see it as it was pitch black outside. Armenia is beautiful and very mountainous. At one point we climbed to 2,200 metres above sea level. It was however easily the most challenging drive of all. 

Four hours later we arrived in Yerevan. A friend of ours, Gegham had arranged for us to stay with his parents. We were very embarrassed to turn up at 0230 in the morning but they were very magnanimous. We woke up in the morning at 0800 to the smells of a wonderful breakfast being cooked for us. Gegham's mother was cooking Kjavar Kufte. I quote Gegham's father:

"It is a special dish. It is made from beef and it must be from meat that is still warm from the carcass. It is then beaten on a stone with a wooden mallet. Only an Armenian has the patience to beat the meat until each single strand has become detached from the other and there are no tendons or sinews left. To prepare a couple of kilos takes 40 minutes of non-stop beating. Once you have the meat you then add onions, some hand ground wheat flour and a drop of cognac. You shape it into balls and then boil them for 40 minutes"

It was heavenly. Some home made sausages and home made Bastirma, home made white wine and we were in love with Armenia already. Add in their wonderful company and we wanted to stay for ever. This was before we had even left the house!

After running a couple of errands in town we drove to Geghard Monastery. This was a monastery that was cleft out of rock and on the side of a mountain.

As we pulled into the parking lot for the monastery, we noticed two land cruisers with Dutch plates. Intrigued, and of course very supportive of their car choice, we stopped to say hello. They desperately needed a water pump and we told them where they could get one in London and have it FedExed over. Thankful, we talked briefly about our journeys and took the obligatory photo. Turns out they were on an expedition to Singapore!

Our car with one of the Dutch Land Cruisers

After seeing the beautiful monastery, it was time to head back to Yerevan. On the way back from the monastery, we stopped at the Temple of Garni, a Hellenistic temple from the first century. Like everything in Armenia, it is set among a stunning mountain backdrop. After exploring for a bit, we continued on to Yerevan to drop Vova off and for Mike and Alex to head to continue to Goris, about halfway to the border. After an excellent dinner made by Gegham's mother we made our way on the winding mountain roads.

The view from the Temple of Gori.

Our car against a beautiful Armenian landscape.

A BMW missing a few parts....

This was not a simple winding mountain road drive however. First, we had to get to a round about and avoid going straight on. If you do that, and not go left, you enter the exclave of Azerbaijan and risk getting shot, as Armenia and Azerbaijan are still technically at war.

Avoiding the first potential deadly issue, we still had one more to deal with. Part way through our drive, we encountered fog so dense, we could see only 2-3 meters in front of our car. After 15 or 20 minutes of white knuckle 10km/hr driving, we were through, and arrived at our hotel around 2:30AM

Getting almost no sleep, we left for the border the next day at 6am sharp. It was through another set of equally challenging mountain roads. There was some fog, but luckily it was during the day. On this leg we set our altitude record - 2535m! It was all downhill from there, both literally and figuratively.

Mehgri Pass - Our altitude record!

We had to descend to the border, which was around 800m above sea level. Normally not a problem, unless towards the end your brake master cylinder decides it doesn't want to work properly any more. After giving it a bit of a rest, and driving cautiously, we limped to the Armenia-Iran border.

Georgia

We arrived in Tbilisi and promptly went to bed. Our hotel was directly in front of Sameba which is the Holy Trinity Cathedral of Tbilisi. We spent the early throes of the afternoon exploring it. It is a beautiful cathedral and has a stunning mountainous backdrop. We got our laundry done, bought presents for friends we were meeting in Batumi and Yerevan and picked up our tracking unit from the local Fedex office. In the meantime we had a quick lunch of some delicious Georgian pies. Getting a late start (as always) we left for Batumi, a city on the Black Sea. 

A quick word about Georgian policemen. They all look like they have been transplanted from New York to Georgia. They drive Ford Interceptors and their uniform is exactly the same as NYPD uniforms. Mike felt right at home.

Along the way we stopped in Gori, the birthplace of Josef Stalin. Unfortunately the museum was shut by the time we arrived, but we did get to see one of the last remaining statues of Stalin along with the house he was born in, which is preserved in a square in the town.

One of the last remaining statues of Stalin.

After exploring and checking out a very poor souvenir shop, we continued to Batumi. The roads through the mountains were narrow and tight but the scenery was stunning. Unfortunately there were a lot of cows ambling across the road which we thought was quite dangerous. Our worst fears were confirmed when we came across a cow that had been run over by a minibus. When we got to Batumi, Mike again used his points for a free stay and got given a room with a balcony, which we made plenty of use of. Mike and Vova promptly crashed while Alex got picked up by Beka's father in law and got back to the hotel room at 4am (Beka is a good friend of ours who manages the World's End Market where we had our leaving party). The next morning we all took an executive decision to stay another day in Batumi and swim in the sea.

The view from our hotel.

After dealing with the hotel, we went to the beach, and Alex and Mike decided to go jetskiing. Hilarity ensued. After negotiating over the price for 20 minutes of riding time, we got on - Alex driving and Mike on the back. We made it all of 10 meters from the beach before Alex managed to overturn it! The staff started shouting and swearing and swam out to tow it back. A Georgian Coastguard cutter turned up to add to the fun and proceeded to give a massive telling-off to the guys who supplied the jetski. We traipsed back to the shore where the staff were fairly glum; because they had forgotten to make us sign a contract, they couldn't fine us and had to return our money

Oops!

Earlier on in the morning, Alex had explored the main market in town, and discovered a woman cooking in a small shop. There was one table and a stove and an oven. Trying some of her food, and finding the food amazing, Alex brought Vova and Mike back, where we had one of the most amazing meals of the trip so far. We were given Salad Olivier, Alapsanjani (cooked peppers and aubergines) and stuffing for Dolma. Easily the most delicious meal of the whole trip and it only cost $15 including drinks and bread. Pati, who was the elderly lady who owned the shop was delighted that we loved her food and kept asking us to come back and try more things the next day. We regretted that we weren't staying for longer.

Inside the market.

The delicious meal we had at the market.

Later in the evening we went out with Beka's father in law and his friends. This was a Bacchanalian feast with plenty of singing, toasting, drinking and dancing. Toast after toast followed to the friendship of the Serbian and Georgian people, The friendship of the Moldovan and Georgian people, the success of our journey and the cause we were raising money for, the wonderful climate of Georgia, Georgian wine, Georgian home made brandy, Georgian food, friendships and every other possible toast. This carried onto until 4am! Mike felt horrifically hung over the next day while Vova and Alex were bouncing around like Energizer bunnies. We left for the long drive to Yerevan at midday.

Azerbaijan and Baku

Transiting the Russian border into Azerbaijan took almost three hours. The first 20 minutes was spent waiting for the Russian border guards to complete their shift change. Once that was done, Alex took the car and dealt with that while Vova and Mike went through the foot crossing side, but not before taking every bag that contained clothes or electronics out to be x-rayed by customs. We realised that this border was a fairly sensitive one based on the stacks of riot shields in the passport office, the enormous gates and the general state of alertness of the border guards.

Once we crossed onto the Azeri side of the border Vova and Mike were sent to the passenger terminal and Alex took the car and carried on. While registering the car, Alex was asked how many days we wanted to stay in Azerbaijan. If we wanted to stay for more than 3 days we would have to pay a deposit. He asked the border guard the size of the deposit: $10,000! It was then that the necessity of the safe stacked with sums of money became apparent.

Once insurance had been bought and the import tax and road duty paid it was off to get the car searched. At that point several bags had to be x-rayed. In the meantime the chap operating the x-ray scanner disappeared. Twenty minutes later he came back. Once the bags were x-rayed he decided to x-ray another two bags. When asked why it, he said was for form's sake! One of the bags was a sleeping bag! Finally after re-loading the car, Alex needed to go and get his passport stamped. The passport officer came up with a big smile and said - No need to ask you any questions as we already know everything about you! While getting the requisite entry stamps a couple of Ukrainian lorry drivers put the whole thing into perspective by having a massive bitch about the fact that they had spent four days waiting to cross the border!

In the meantime Vova and Mike were drinking tea on the other side - although the consolation for Alex was that Mike was providing a varied diet to the local mosquitoes! 3 hours later we then drove to Baku and arrived at around 4am.

Baku has a ridiculous amount of money compared to the rest of the towns we passed through. Almost everything is modern, there is tons of construction, and the word in a lot of the hotels and apartments: Luxury. We got to experience this first hand when Mike used his Hilton points for a free stay at the Baku Hilton, and they gave us an upgrade to an amazing suite.

A modern street in Baku

We had planned to do some sightseeing, but the car had some issues we had to sort out first, so we took it to a garage. There, for 130 manat, we had the seal on the rear differential replaced, and the fluid topped up. For most of the drive, we noticed the car was leaking oil, but we couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It was the diff, and good thing we had it looked at as almost all the fluid had drained away.

Our car on the lift....again

Losing our time for sightseeing, we drove to a high point in Baku to take some landscape photos and photos of the car.

A word about driving in Azerbaijan - it is not for the faint-hearted. Everyone drives during the night with their headlights on full-beam and driving down the wrong side of the motorway on the hard shoulder is de rigueur. In the meantime people happily walk across the motorway during the middle of the night dressed in dark clothing - we lost count of the number of times we had to swerve to avoid someone. Mike received a crash course in Russian swearing from Alex and Vova. Add to this a number of trucks that would have one rear light working in the best of circumstances but often none and random potholes. 

On our way we passed a roadside house and decided to stop. It was a proper old school stand. There were plastic tables and chairs next to a small canal, and the only source of cooking was an open charcoal grill and a samovar producing tea. It was one of the best meals we’ve had so far. A bit of grilled lamb, salad, and tea, and it only cost the equivalent of $15. 

The epic meal we had at the roadside rest stop

Very full, and slightly less tired, we soldiered on to the border. Luckily it didn’t take anything like entering Azerbaijan. In half an hour we were through, complete with a singing Azeri border guard, who sung in between each passport check.

Finally, after another long drive and a 4am arrival, we got to our hotel.

Chechnya And Dagestan

We left Tula at 9PM and arrived in Grozny around 6PM the following day, having driven almost non stop except to stop for fuel.

Tired, we found our hotel and checked in. Talking to the man at reception, we were hoping to see some history from the Chechen War for Independence in 2000. However, we were told that 1) pretty much no one comes to Chechnya as tourists, and 2) everything has been rebuilt and almost of the evidence scrubbed away.

There is a huge amount of building going on in Chechnya, and in particular, Grozny, the capital. Most of the buildings are new, as they replaced the ones damaged in the war. But, if you look, there is still plenty of tradition around. You’ll still hear the calls to prayer and there are plenty of open markets.

A woman selling fruit at a market in Grozny, Chechnya. 

Alex cutting a bottle so we can add oil.

After eating breakfast and exploring one of the markets, we left for the Russian-Armenian border via Dagestan. Chechnya has good roads, modern buildings, and you see plenty of expensive cars. Dagestan by comparison, is ridiculously poor. 

Vova and Mike trying some traditional fur clothing at a roadside stand selling furs.

This quickly became apparent when we got to our first traffic jam in a city. Kids were walking along the rows of cars and begging for money. The buildings are cinderblock and many are falling apart. If the writing wasn't in Russian, I would think I was in a very poor part of rural Egypt or Libya.

On the way we stopped in Derbent, which has an ancient fortress. It lies at the top of a steep hill, with amazing views of the town and the Caspian Sea beyond. After exploring for about 45 minutes, we continued on to the border.

Tula, Russia

Surprisingly, the quickest border crossing so far was the Belarus-Russia border. We had forgotten Belarus and Russia signed a treaty for a customs union, so it was very easy to get through.

The Russian Border...with no booths for passport control.

We got waved down by an official and it went like this:

"Passports, please. All good. Ok, go!"

We were unsure whether we would have problems later so Alex ran to the border guards to ask them whether we needed entry stamps in our passport. Apparently they had no stamps and if we wanted a stamp we could get one in Moscow. Like usual, they were very intrigued by our car and by our trip. We then needed to get insurance as always. The lady was struggling to understand the logbook so in the end Alex sat down and typed out the insurance certificate himself. As we left the hut there were a group of money changers sitting in their cars. One of the border guards asked if we needed help exchanging money. We politely declined and left.

Filling out the insurance paperwork after we crossed the border.

Following in the footsteps of Napoleon, we drove like the clappers towards Moscow along a good quality motorway. However when we turned off towards Vyazma the road rapidly deteriorated. Potholes were everywhere and you had to swerve to avoid them. After a number of hours driving along crappy roads, we arrived at the hotel around 4AM.

The next morning, we met up with Sergei, one of Vova's friends who is a sword maker. He showed us his workshop and swords that he had made, along with some antique coins. Afterwards, he showed us around Tula while our car got a check up in a local garage. 

Part of the interior of the fort we explored

A statue of Dimitry Donskoy, a Russian Prince in the 14th century. 

The interior of an ancient church in the fort, which was undergoing refurbishment.

We drove a local fort and walked around the grounds, buying some souvenirs in the shops. Afterwards, we went to the Tula arms museum, which was great and has arms from various countries all the way from early flintlocks to modern day. Tula is famous for its weapons manufacturing, and some guns are still manufactured in Tula today. Following our trip to the museum, we went out for traditional Russian food, and enjoyed a long, relaxing dinner. This was important as we had a non stop 18 hour drive to Grozny, Chechnya ahead of us.

An arms museum.

Archways in the fort.

Russian Military hardware outside the Arms Museum.

The main government offices for Tula.

Getting our car ready for the 18 hour drive to Grozny.

Minsk

Once we were done with the "fun" of completing Belarussian paperwork, we belted it to Minsk. Arriving at 3:30am, we crashed. The next morning it was time to walk around and explore, before heading to Tula in Russia.

The view of the train station and city centre from our hotel.

We drove from the hotel to the city centre, and as we were parking, we noticed a motorcyclist come around the corner with a bunch of country stickers on the saddle bags. We waved him down and began talking.

Meet Peter from Sweden, who is doing a European bike tour and visiting friends along the way. We traded stories about our trip so far, took some photos, and were each on our way. As an American growing up, I was taught that Belarus "is the last dictatorship in Europe" and is sort-of stuck in Soviet times. I found it very clean and quite modern. The roads were excellent, Minsk was spotlessly clean, and there was good public transport. There were some things that gave you pause, however.

Peter, center, with Alex, left, and Mike, right.

For example, we were walking through the main train station looking for postcards, and an announcement came over the PA: "It is forbidden to smoke here, if you see someone smoking, report them to the nearest police officer." It brings back the Soviet mentality of everyone informing on their neighbours. 

Empty shelves in a store underneath the train station.

A monument outside a Belarussian Army Office

A main street in Minsk next to the train station

Olivier salat. This is a traditional Russian salad which is compulsory at New Year's and on Birthdays. 

People buy train tickets beneath an old school departure board.

Buying 3kg of blueberries from a fruit seller on the side of the motorway on the way to the border.

It poured and we discovered our car leaks. Our solution: gaffer tape fixes anything!

After lunch and mailing post cards, we left for the Tula and the Russian border.