I had to tear myself away from Khiva in the end.
I allowed the lady who ran the guest house to persuade me that I should stay one more day. She’d read the tea leaves, or something, and was convinced that if I left on Wednesday, I’d just get soaked again, and probably freeze to death. It would be much better to leave on Thursday.
Plus, she’d get an extra day’s money, of course…
I’d checked the more scientific weather forecast, and, while it didn’t suggest much rain at all, another day in Khiva felt like a good idea (I’m not sure I’d fully recovered from that marathon 200-plus kms a few days before).
So I stayed. I had another poke around the old town, sampled some more coffee and kebabs in various hostelries, and gave the bike a good clean, which it much appreciated.
Needless to say, it was sunny all day. And when I awoke to get moving northwards on Thursday, I was greeted with a heavy shower, black clouds, and gusty winds that would be at least half in my face all day.
Still, if I’d stayed in Khiva any longer, I’d have started growing roots. So I resigned myself to a longish, slowish slog for a couple of days. I donned the cold weather gear and the rain jacket again, and set sail for the last chunk of Uzbekistan that stood between me and the border; Karakalpakstan.
Or ‘Karakalpakistan’, as people took to calling it the closer I’ve got to it. By the time I crossed the (frankly over-ornamented) border, above, the spelling had shifted all the way to ‘Qaraqalpogiston’. It’s no wonder that it’s a bit tricky to search for stuff on the internet over here; there are usually at least two possible spellings in Latin script, plus at least one Cyrillic version. It’s amazing you can ever find anything…
My target was Nukus (or ‘Nokis’, etc, etc), which is the capital of Karakalpakstan / Qaraqalpogiston. It was only about 180 km up the road from Khiva / Xiva, but it felt like an awful lot further.
Thursday was essentially spent trying to outrun showers, while dodging potholes. And averaging a colossal 15 kph into the teeth of the wind. Urgh! Progress was not really helped by the awareness that, after Khiva, I was out of charming Silk Road cities to explore. And that all I was really doing was positioning myself for hundreds of kilometres of desert.
Given the lack of ancient historical sights, I thought I’d better concentrate on the more prosaic and everyday aspects of life in a post-Soviet republic.
Thankfully, Karakalpakstan is just the place to do this. Which made the second day to Nukus (Friday) much more bearable. I crossed a fantastically flimsy, improvised pontoon bridge, made it back to the main road, and took a left towards Kazakhstan.
The beautiful new road has not made it this far north yet, and you can see the consequences below; the old road (quite chewed up), the shoulder (dirt, but smoother than the road), and the unfinished new road (behind the camel).
Oh yeah, the camel.
This was something new. Although I’ve had my path obstructed by a number of beasts in the past, this was my first wild camel. But they’re apparently quite common further up the road. I’ll try to get a closer picture next time; this guy actually strolled right up to me, but I’d put the phone away by then, in case I needed to make a run for it.
Turned out he was much more interested in the bins at the nearby petrol station than in me, so I’ll try to be a little braver next time.
The camel is a fairly normal sight over here, but not something I’d usually expect to see. Nukus, on the other hand, is a straight copy from the template of small, ex-Soviet cities. It’s pretty easy to find Nukus clone-towns from the Sea of Japan to the Polish border.
Naturally, I’m once again staying in the most Soviet place I could find:
And this hotel may actually not have changed at all in the last 25 years. Certainly, the plumbing and electrics (as well as the carpet) are of that sort of vintage.
The town itself is a mixture of grandiose public buildings, large concrete blocks of flats, and dirt streets lined with small shops. All carefully planned, and sensibly placed. After all the beautiful mosques and minarets of the Silk Road cities, it’s a little bit of a come-down.
On the other hand, it’s the last city I’ll see for quite a few days (if all goes according to plan), so it’s nice to be able to stock up at the supermarket, get a decent cuppa, and wander the broad, carefully-swept boulevards.
Soviet-style or not, I have a feeling I’m going to miss the benefits of civilisation as I head back into the desert again…