We changed the settings so it should be easier to leave a comment if you feel inspired to do so.
-Our wak of mayhem widens and lengthens. You should have seen the post office after we finished with them.-
Take care and have fun-
Tyler and Adrianne
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Monday, August 5, 2013
"Sweet Dreams"....ZZZZZ
Greetings, Friends-
They let us in.
As two young Americans raised in the "Red Dawn" era, it is quite thrilling to be infiltrating the enemy's stronghold and spreading Sherman-esque disarray in our path across the motherland.
It began on our first day in country. Our Kazakh send-off was made after riding one of the most awful stretches of road we have yet encountered in our trip. The motor vehicles using the same road would often show us their full side-view while presumably making progress in our direction. The holes and mud pits in the road were so daunting that westbound cars were frequently south, south, north, south, north, north, west, south bound. Although it had rained plenty before our arrival, we were fortunate to not be riding that bit of road in the rain.
We were welcomed to Russia under sunny skies, and found much smoother pavement on the other side of the border. After exchanging some money, lunching in the park-while airing out sleeping bags and looking appropriately gypsy- we headed out of Gornyak, and on towards Barnaul.
After all the excitement of the challenging road, the big border crossing, and the gifts received at the grocery store, we were pretty tired, and decided it was not necessary to cover 100km that day.
There was a spot on our map where it appeared that a few kilometers up a side road there was a river crossing. Alongside rivers one can sometimes find nice flat camping sites, so we turned of the main route and pedaled a little ways up a dirt road. Hmmm. There was a river, and there was flatness, but the flatness was separated from the river by impenetrable vegetation...except for right under the bridge.
Deciding not to sleep under the bridge where the local youth undoubtedly party, we pushed our bikes a good distance from the road and the bridge and access to the river, and found a good flat spot on the floodplain where we would be bothered by nobody but the mosquitoes.
And boy howdy the bugs showed up. We set up the tent/mosquito refuge, and cooked and ate dinner in our full rain gear because despite the lack of rain, there certainly was no lack of straw-mouthed flying things looking for human flesh to suck.
Quickly, quickly, we dove into the tent, zipped it up and did our best to rid the sanctuary of invaders.
Phew. Well, at least we will sleep well on this pleasant evening on this flat ground far from anywhere that normal people would wish to venture....
"Do you hear something?"
"You mean something other than the drone of billions of mosquitos trying to get into the tent?
"Voices. Human voices."
And wouldn\t you know it, through the tall grass, out of the darkening (sunset and clouds of mosquito caused) evening, came four Russian teen-aged boys who were quite as surprised to stumble upon our campsite as we were by their stumbling.
"Preevyet?"
"Preevyet."
Then followed one of the more strange exchanges we have had so far on the trip.
The tee-shirt clad lads who had come down to the floodplain after sunset to drink with their friends must have been made of different material, because certainly no humans made of flesh and blood could have withstood the punishment they endured while they chatted with us for the next forty minutes.
We were very bad hosts, or guests- difficult to know who was which- because we did not leave the tent to greet them. We did not leave the tent to assist them in their attempts to start a fire a few feet from the vestibule, -a brief mission quickly abondened, thankfully- we did not leave the tent at all. We pretty much kept the force-field intact and chatted with the lads until they grew tired of our inability to understand Russian.
"Sweet dreams!" zzzzzzz
We have continued to spread mayhem in our path, and the Russians (most of them-not the people working in a field to whom we offered half a watermelon-but that is a whole other story) have continued to treat us with kindness.
This evening, we are on our way to Yadveega's apartment, where we will be spending the night. We first made her aquaintence at the pharmacy where she was working when we decided to restock our contact lens solution and soap and such.
Take care and have fun-
Tyler and Adrianne
They let us in.
As two young Americans raised in the "Red Dawn" era, it is quite thrilling to be infiltrating the enemy's stronghold and spreading Sherman-esque disarray in our path across the motherland.
It began on our first day in country. Our Kazakh send-off was made after riding one of the most awful stretches of road we have yet encountered in our trip. The motor vehicles using the same road would often show us their full side-view while presumably making progress in our direction. The holes and mud pits in the road were so daunting that westbound cars were frequently south, south, north, south, north, north, west, south bound. Although it had rained plenty before our arrival, we were fortunate to not be riding that bit of road in the rain.
We were welcomed to Russia under sunny skies, and found much smoother pavement on the other side of the border. After exchanging some money, lunching in the park-while airing out sleeping bags and looking appropriately gypsy- we headed out of Gornyak, and on towards Barnaul.
After all the excitement of the challenging road, the big border crossing, and the gifts received at the grocery store, we were pretty tired, and decided it was not necessary to cover 100km that day.
There was a spot on our map where it appeared that a few kilometers up a side road there was a river crossing. Alongside rivers one can sometimes find nice flat camping sites, so we turned of the main route and pedaled a little ways up a dirt road. Hmmm. There was a river, and there was flatness, but the flatness was separated from the river by impenetrable vegetation...except for right under the bridge.
Deciding not to sleep under the bridge where the local youth undoubtedly party, we pushed our bikes a good distance from the road and the bridge and access to the river, and found a good flat spot on the floodplain where we would be bothered by nobody but the mosquitoes.
And boy howdy the bugs showed up. We set up the tent/mosquito refuge, and cooked and ate dinner in our full rain gear because despite the lack of rain, there certainly was no lack of straw-mouthed flying things looking for human flesh to suck.
Quickly, quickly, we dove into the tent, zipped it up and did our best to rid the sanctuary of invaders.
Phew. Well, at least we will sleep well on this pleasant evening on this flat ground far from anywhere that normal people would wish to venture....
"Do you hear something?"
"You mean something other than the drone of billions of mosquitos trying to get into the tent?
"Voices. Human voices."
And wouldn\t you know it, through the tall grass, out of the darkening (sunset and clouds of mosquito caused) evening, came four Russian teen-aged boys who were quite as surprised to stumble upon our campsite as we were by their stumbling.
"Preevyet?"
"Preevyet."
Then followed one of the more strange exchanges we have had so far on the trip.
The tee-shirt clad lads who had come down to the floodplain after sunset to drink with their friends must have been made of different material, because certainly no humans made of flesh and blood could have withstood the punishment they endured while they chatted with us for the next forty minutes.
We were very bad hosts, or guests- difficult to know who was which- because we did not leave the tent to greet them. We did not leave the tent to assist them in their attempts to start a fire a few feet from the vestibule, -a brief mission quickly abondened, thankfully- we did not leave the tent at all. We pretty much kept the force-field intact and chatted with the lads until they grew tired of our inability to understand Russian.
"Sweet dreams!" zzzzzzz
We have continued to spread mayhem in our path, and the Russians (most of them-not the people working in a field to whom we offered half a watermelon-but that is a whole other story) have continued to treat us with kindness.
This evening, we are on our way to Yadveega's apartment, where we will be spending the night. We first made her aquaintence at the pharmacy where she was working when we decided to restock our contact lens solution and soap and such.
Take care and have fun-
Tyler and Adrianne
The Society
Ziplocks. Specifically: blue quart size freezer bags with the "yellow and blue make green seal"- my favorite. Nalgene containers: 4 oz, 8 oz, 16 oz- love them.
I don't know when it happened, but I somehow developed this neurosis for plastic containers. I am definitely a member of 'The Society of People who put Bags inside of Bags inside of Bags'. If you've never backpacked, or bicycled toured, or done any number of other outdoor pursuits, then perhaps you've never heard of it. This term was first coined in my mind by Daniel 'the Cormorant', a thru-hiker I met while on the Continental Divide Trail in 2000. It cracked me up, and yet was utterly perfect. Let's say I buy a box of noodles. I can't carry a box into the woods- for one, it weighs more, it also takes up more space, and then I have to carry the box around for days, until I find a trash. So, i put the noodles in a ziplock bag and throw the box away before i leave town. Now, they are smaller, weigh less, and i can still reuse the ziplock. Brilliant. Then, the ziplock of noodles goes in the food bag which goes in the BOB trailer bag! Bag in a bag in a bag. It gets kind of ridiculous.
Being in Central Asia is not helping my condition, it is only strengthening the container demon because... there are no ziplocks! Worse yet, there are no plastic containers with resealable lids! Now, i get to add hoarding to the neurosis. There are drinks and sodas with lids that are resealable, but somehow this technology has not transferred to wide mouth plastic containers. This is a problem for people who care about weight, size, breakability, and compactibility when empty. Think about honey and butter; two things I love, but which do not travel well in a bag.
Now, as I bike along, past the honey sellers on the road, i stare intently on their wares and try to see what their containers look like. Have they figured it out? I thought maybe the Kazakhs would be more advanced than the Kyrgyz and would possess this new age technology. Maybe the Russians have it dialed? The jury is still out.
Enter the nalgene container with a wide mouth screw top lid. Perfect. This has become one of my essential travel items. Forget about the whistle as one of the Top 10 necessary pieces of survival gear. The nalgene functions as smash-proof water-tight storage, a bowl, re-hydrator, cutting board, and measuring cup. I don't know what I would do without it. I had to buy one for Tyler before we left, as he was not yet a believer.
So, next time you close your jar of peanut butter, do so with a little gratitude, and thank god you live in such a great country, that not only has peanut butter, but has such an array of plastic containers.
I don't know when it happened, but I somehow developed this neurosis for plastic containers. I am definitely a member of 'The Society of People who put Bags inside of Bags inside of Bags'. If you've never backpacked, or bicycled toured, or done any number of other outdoor pursuits, then perhaps you've never heard of it. This term was first coined in my mind by Daniel 'the Cormorant', a thru-hiker I met while on the Continental Divide Trail in 2000. It cracked me up, and yet was utterly perfect. Let's say I buy a box of noodles. I can't carry a box into the woods- for one, it weighs more, it also takes up more space, and then I have to carry the box around for days, until I find a trash. So, i put the noodles in a ziplock bag and throw the box away before i leave town. Now, they are smaller, weigh less, and i can still reuse the ziplock. Brilliant. Then, the ziplock of noodles goes in the food bag which goes in the BOB trailer bag! Bag in a bag in a bag. It gets kind of ridiculous.
Being in Central Asia is not helping my condition, it is only strengthening the container demon because... there are no ziplocks! Worse yet, there are no plastic containers with resealable lids! Now, i get to add hoarding to the neurosis. There are drinks and sodas with lids that are resealable, but somehow this technology has not transferred to wide mouth plastic containers. This is a problem for people who care about weight, size, breakability, and compactibility when empty. Think about honey and butter; two things I love, but which do not travel well in a bag.
Now, as I bike along, past the honey sellers on the road, i stare intently on their wares and try to see what their containers look like. Have they figured it out? I thought maybe the Kazakhs would be more advanced than the Kyrgyz and would possess this new age technology. Maybe the Russians have it dialed? The jury is still out.
Enter the nalgene container with a wide mouth screw top lid. Perfect. This has become one of my essential travel items. Forget about the whistle as one of the Top 10 necessary pieces of survival gear. The nalgene functions as smash-proof water-tight storage, a bowl, re-hydrator, cutting board, and measuring cup. I don't know what I would do without it. I had to buy one for Tyler before we left, as he was not yet a believer.
So, next time you close your jar of peanut butter, do so with a little gratitude, and thank god you live in such a great country, that not only has peanut butter, but has such an array of plastic containers.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
A Few Thousand Words
Greetings, Friends-
Here are a few images that say way more than we could with pages of words.
What you can't see in the pictures is the conversation that took place with the young security guard at this hostel on this computer using google translate in order to figure out how to get the photos from the camera to your eyes. It is often really fun to be on the road in other countries, but it is pretty much never easy.
The view from one of our first campsites at a small ski area outside Bishkek.
Yurts are everywhere.
If you tell someone you visited Kyrgyzstan, they will probably ask if you have been to Issyk Kol. It was quite nice.
Not sure if we will be able to post any Kazakh or Russian photos, but there are some pretty good ones. And rest assured, even the boring ones have a good story.
Take care, and have fun-
Tyler and Adrianne.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
2992
That's right, 2992km. Just arrived in Oskamen, or Ust-Kamenogorsk, depending on which map you look at, and if it uses the Kazakh names or Soviet names. On the approach to the city, the houses somehow started looking different. They are small wooden houses with steep pitched roofs and shutters of varying colors. There are still potatoes growing in the yard and cows roaming about, but it just looks very different than the earth and mud houses we have been seeing throughout the rest of our trip. It definitely feels much more Russian.
Ok- so that posting failed because all six of the staff at the internet cafe had to go on break for half an hour and none of them could give us more time on the computer. Really.
Now, we are in Shaminaikha, a town only 23 km from the Russian border! Foreigners are not allowed to use this crossing though, so we have to go down the road another 150 km or so to enter at a different border point. It feels pretty wild that we are about to enter a new country, and even more incredible that a whole month has gone by and we are now half way through our trip! Kazakhstan has gone by even faster than Kyrgyzstan.
Similarly to Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan has sort of divided itself in two parts, in terms of our trip. Steppe/desert and taiga/rainforest. Since writing from the "apple people's" house, we got into a stretch of country that is "The Vast and Endless Steppe". On the map this area had a bunch of funny little symbols, that I now realize mean desert! A Czech couple had warned us about this area of "nothing". No people, no water, not even a tree for shade. I have walked and biked across a few stretches of desert, and we were sort of girding up for some harsh conditions. Perhaps because of this, it wasn't that bad. It did look vast and endless, with far away hills shimmering in the distance, hovering above the horizon, and only the train rumbling by to separate time and space.
We got ourselves into a program of waking up at five, so we could bike when it was still cool, and carrying four gallons of water at a time. There did end up being a few shrubs to hide under for shade, and there were enough towns or random cafes to get water at, that it was tolerable. I adopted a new mantra during this stretch, 'tailwinds', only focusing on what I want.
This was the program up until the town of Georgievka, which we reached ten days ago. From that day until today, there have been thunderstorms and it has poured rain, at least once a day. It has gotten greener, lusher, and more Russian feeling the farther north we go. We are now in the land of mushrooms and strawberries! There are people everywhere harvesting these coveted items. More than once, while setting up the tent by the side of some field, a rough looking man has wandered through the woods by the tent. At first it was a bit unnerving. Are these the drunks people warned us about?
The rain has put us on its program. Sleep later if it pours first thing in the morning, take a long lunch and hide until it stops, make camp before it storms again. So, this morning when we awoke to red skies, I took warning. The rain held off long enough to pack up, but then it kept on till noon, when we reached town and a gazebo to eat our lunch under. I think we fit right in at the park, amongst the kids driving mini-cars around the playground with blaring music, and the girls learning to rollerblade.
This town is pretty much blessed in my book. It is always the towns you expect nothing in that are the best. Our bikes got a shower, we got a hot shower, and the kind manager of the hotel is letting us use her computer.
I like to think that by biking we are making everyone happy. When they see us out their car windows in the pouring rain they think, 'at least that's not me'.
Hope you are all feeling blessed as well. Peace out, Adrianne and Tyler
Ok- so that posting failed because all six of the staff at the internet cafe had to go on break for half an hour and none of them could give us more time on the computer. Really.
Now, we are in Shaminaikha, a town only 23 km from the Russian border! Foreigners are not allowed to use this crossing though, so we have to go down the road another 150 km or so to enter at a different border point. It feels pretty wild that we are about to enter a new country, and even more incredible that a whole month has gone by and we are now half way through our trip! Kazakhstan has gone by even faster than Kyrgyzstan.
Similarly to Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan has sort of divided itself in two parts, in terms of our trip. Steppe/desert and taiga/rainforest. Since writing from the "apple people's" house, we got into a stretch of country that is "The Vast and Endless Steppe". On the map this area had a bunch of funny little symbols, that I now realize mean desert! A Czech couple had warned us about this area of "nothing". No people, no water, not even a tree for shade. I have walked and biked across a few stretches of desert, and we were sort of girding up for some harsh conditions. Perhaps because of this, it wasn't that bad. It did look vast and endless, with far away hills shimmering in the distance, hovering above the horizon, and only the train rumbling by to separate time and space.
We got ourselves into a program of waking up at five, so we could bike when it was still cool, and carrying four gallons of water at a time. There did end up being a few shrubs to hide under for shade, and there were enough towns or random cafes to get water at, that it was tolerable. I adopted a new mantra during this stretch, 'tailwinds', only focusing on what I want.
This was the program up until the town of Georgievka, which we reached ten days ago. From that day until today, there have been thunderstorms and it has poured rain, at least once a day. It has gotten greener, lusher, and more Russian feeling the farther north we go. We are now in the land of mushrooms and strawberries! There are people everywhere harvesting these coveted items. More than once, while setting up the tent by the side of some field, a rough looking man has wandered through the woods by the tent. At first it was a bit unnerving. Are these the drunks people warned us about?
The rain has put us on its program. Sleep later if it pours first thing in the morning, take a long lunch and hide until it stops, make camp before it storms again. So, this morning when we awoke to red skies, I took warning. The rain held off long enough to pack up, but then it kept on till noon, when we reached town and a gazebo to eat our lunch under. I think we fit right in at the park, amongst the kids driving mini-cars around the playground with blaring music, and the girls learning to rollerblade.
This town is pretty much blessed in my book. It is always the towns you expect nothing in that are the best. Our bikes got a shower, we got a hot shower, and the kind manager of the hotel is letting us use her computer.
I like to think that by biking we are making everyone happy. When they see us out their car windows in the pouring rain they think, 'at least that's not me'.
Hope you are all feeling blessed as well. Peace out, Adrianne and Tyler
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Sir, They Are As Dumb As We Thought
While riding past a firing range for large armored vehicles, we spotted a fine campsite, but we decided to keep pedaling. The hunt for good camping occupies a large part of our time, from examining maps looking for rivers, to scanning horizons searching for clumps of trees far enough from the road to discourage curious folks from visiting our campsite in the middle of the night.
Here in Kazakhstan, finding a good spot is easier in some ways and more challenging in others than it was in Kyrgyzstan. There are fewer people here, and a whole lot more space. But much of that space is peopleless for good reason, as it is also free of flowing water or trees. It was the presence of a few trees that made the firing range spot so desirable. It was fun to imagine some Kazakh soldiers discovering a journal filled with a string of very bizarre Russian words. "Today, gas station woman give melon and chocolate and almonds. She very nice. We very tired. We smile big." Here is the evidence, sir. The tourists are absolute morons.
The little bit of Russian we do know is proving very useful and is leading to some amazing interactions here in Kazakhstan. Almost every day, we have been given gifts by the very kind folks who live here. After they get a handle on their disbelief that we are from the US and that we are riding our bikes to Mongolia, we are presented with treasures.
Just the other day, we were making a pretty standard resupply stop in Taldikorghan, a small city in eastern Kazakhstan. The plan was to purchase; bread, cheese, almonds, meat stick, cucumbers, snacks and a few other treats to fill up our food bags. By the time we were following the very friendly man on the motor scooter guiding us out of the city in our mini parade, we had been given pounds of treats; 1 plastic comb, 3 cans of beef and barley, 2 cans of mackerel, 2 cans of sprats, 1 pound of raisins, 1 pound of dried apricots, 1 package of wafer treats, 1 large box of assorted cookies, 2 green t-shirts, and 1 five ruble note from 1909.
We are having a pretty wonderful time, and look forward to telling the stories in person.
This post is being written from the home of some very friendly folks who were selling apples on the side of the road. We did not have a chance to buy any apples before we had been invited in for tea, and dinner and showers and a place to spend the night. Amazing.
Thank you for the continued good thoughts and prayers. They are working.
Take care-
Tyler and Adrianne
Here in Kazakhstan, finding a good spot is easier in some ways and more challenging in others than it was in Kyrgyzstan. There are fewer people here, and a whole lot more space. But much of that space is peopleless for good reason, as it is also free of flowing water or trees. It was the presence of a few trees that made the firing range spot so desirable. It was fun to imagine some Kazakh soldiers discovering a journal filled with a string of very bizarre Russian words. "Today, gas station woman give melon and chocolate and almonds. She very nice. We very tired. We smile big." Here is the evidence, sir. The tourists are absolute morons.
The little bit of Russian we do know is proving very useful and is leading to some amazing interactions here in Kazakhstan. Almost every day, we have been given gifts by the very kind folks who live here. After they get a handle on their disbelief that we are from the US and that we are riding our bikes to Mongolia, we are presented with treasures.
Just the other day, we were making a pretty standard resupply stop in Taldikorghan, a small city in eastern Kazakhstan. The plan was to purchase; bread, cheese, almonds, meat stick, cucumbers, snacks and a few other treats to fill up our food bags. By the time we were following the very friendly man on the motor scooter guiding us out of the city in our mini parade, we had been given pounds of treats; 1 plastic comb, 3 cans of beef and barley, 2 cans of mackerel, 2 cans of sprats, 1 pound of raisins, 1 pound of dried apricots, 1 package of wafer treats, 1 large box of assorted cookies, 2 green t-shirts, and 1 five ruble note from 1909.
We are having a pretty wonderful time, and look forward to telling the stories in person.
This post is being written from the home of some very friendly folks who were selling apples on the side of the road. We did not have a chance to buy any apples before we had been invited in for tea, and dinner and showers and a place to spend the night. Amazing.
Thank you for the continued good thoughts and prayers. They are working.
Take care-
Tyler and Adrianne
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Stop, Please Stop
"Akyuda!"
All throughout Kyrgyzstan, whenever we were spotted by the locals, this question often preceded hello. It made little difference whether we were spotted by folks in the same tiny store, or by people on very distant hillsides. "Where are you from?" is the question everyone was asking. Sometimes we would hear the question shouted by people from impossible distances. We have grown quite accustomed to yelling back to unknown interrogators, "Amyerika!"
It was therefore quite startling to be riding along a smooth Kazakh road in the middle of a very hot day and hear a small voice from the other side implore in English, "Stop. Please, Stop."
What else could we possibly do, the voice had said, "please". We stopped, and the young man who had made the request made his way across the narrow highway. In what way is this person hoping we can help him? We were wondering if he needed medical attention or help moving something, but it was not quite like that.
"I have a lake. It is very hot. You are cycling. Would you like to swim? Please come swim."
What else could we possibly do, he had said, "please", and also at that precise moment, there really was nothing that we would rather have been doing, than swimming in his lake. He might as well have descended on a cloud, But we are pretty sure he wasn't an angel, because angels could probably understand our funny accents. "I am sorry, your American accent is very difficult to understand. Could you please speak with a British accent?" We were making things difficult for him by saying things like, "thirdy four", instead of "thirtea four".
After we had sufficiently cooled ourselves in the lake, he asked, "What else can I do for you?"
We thanked him, and continued on our way to Almaty.
That has pretty much been the way of things with people in Kazakhstan. Machines are a different story for another time.
Be well-
Tyler and Adrianne
All throughout Kyrgyzstan, whenever we were spotted by the locals, this question often preceded hello. It made little difference whether we were spotted by folks in the same tiny store, or by people on very distant hillsides. "Where are you from?" is the question everyone was asking. Sometimes we would hear the question shouted by people from impossible distances. We have grown quite accustomed to yelling back to unknown interrogators, "Amyerika!"
It was therefore quite startling to be riding along a smooth Kazakh road in the middle of a very hot day and hear a small voice from the other side implore in English, "Stop. Please, Stop."
What else could we possibly do, the voice had said, "please". We stopped, and the young man who had made the request made his way across the narrow highway. In what way is this person hoping we can help him? We were wondering if he needed medical attention or help moving something, but it was not quite like that.
"I have a lake. It is very hot. You are cycling. Would you like to swim? Please come swim."
What else could we possibly do, he had said, "please", and also at that precise moment, there really was nothing that we would rather have been doing, than swimming in his lake. He might as well have descended on a cloud, But we are pretty sure he wasn't an angel, because angels could probably understand our funny accents. "I am sorry, your American accent is very difficult to understand. Could you please speak with a British accent?" We were making things difficult for him by saying things like, "thirdy four", instead of "thirtea four".
After we had sufficiently cooled ourselves in the lake, he asked, "What else can I do for you?"
We thanked him, and continued on our way to Almaty.
That has pretty much been the way of things with people in Kazakhstan. Machines are a different story for another time.
Be well-
Tyler and Adrianne
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