Today: Tailwind

Last night I played with the children for a long time, especially the youngest one who kept coming back to me. We didn’t understand each other verbally, but we could still fool around together. In the end, everyone lay down side by side on carpets or futons in the middle of the house and fell asleep in a neat row on the floor.

At first they kept calling me “Turist,” but eventually they learned my name. I, on the other hand, couldn’t remember theirs, since they weren’t actually named Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, and Si (Do, the oldest, was in Aktau). They did tell me their names, but they were long and unfamiliar, and remembering six at once was impossible for me.

In the morning I took it easy, since I hadn’t slept very well the night before and needed to catch up. Besides, today’s plan was “only” about 90 flat kilometers.

A little after noon I said goodbye, took a few selfies, and went to the only small shop in the village. I wanted to buy water, but there wasn’t any, so I bought strawberry iced tea and another sweet drink with pear flavor instead.

After 5 km against the wind, I reached the familiar A-33 highway again. Soon the road curved, and the wind must have shifted slightly as well, so from then on I enjoyed a strong tailwind almost all the way to Beineu.

The landscape still looked the same as in the past days, except for a small river where children were playing—probably a Sunday family outing—and a bridge over the railway that offered a great long-distance view.

With all the sugar from the iced tea, I didn’t feel like eating at all—and since the tailwind made riding fast and easy, I went straight to Beineu. Less than three and a half hours of riding made it probably the shortest day so far.

I couldn’t find the train station where it was marked on the maps. But after I had clearly passed it, I came across a large supermarket—perfect timing to stock up for the night train.

On the way back along the same road, I noticed an inconspicuous sign at the supposed station location. It said “temporary station” in Kazakh and pointed the way. Thanks to Google Translate, I understood it and finally found the station.

But why am I taking the train at all? Because the border to Uzbekistan is closed—the only road is under construction, and the border crossing has been shut down as well. The only option is the train, which most cyclists take. I heard that it can be difficult to get off at the first station after the border—Karakalpakia—because train staff don’t like letting people off in the middle of nowhere. So I decided to buy my ticket to Kungrad. There is another station in between, even more remote, but since I’m taking the train anyway, I might as well skip the most boring section.

Before my trip, a colleague with a lot of cycling experience advised me to skip boring sections, saying that wanting to ride everything is a beginner’s mistake. At first, I really wanted to cycle the entire route—that’s when I was still a beginner. Now, after nearly two months on the road, especially the past few days, I’ve realized how monotonous some stretches can be. And since I’ve already taken a flight and this border can only be crossed by train, the idea of “riding everything” isn’t realistic anymore anyway.

Many people told me they would stay on the train all the way to Nukus, but I decided to cycle the last 100 km instead.

Interestingly, long after I had bought my ticket to Kungrad, I found out that two other long-distance cyclists would also arrive there tomorrow. We agreed to meet, which gave me another reason to get off there. They managed to get off at Karakalpakia without issues and cycled through the most desolate section. I’m looking forward to hearing their stories.