I’d ended up here the previous day, arriving in the last remnants of the evening light. The plan had been to stop earlier in a small hostel, largely frequented by itinerant workers. I’d spent a night there during my previous return to Almaty. Typical of those run by ethnic Russian women, it was basic but always clean and welcoming. Or it would have been, had it not been closed for major refurbishment.

There’d been no choice but to press on, assured by a few locals that there was a similar establishment in the next town. In any case, I couldn’t camp where I was. So I’d hastily departed, a little unsure as to exactly how far I’d have to ride. In practice, it hadn’t been that much further, perhaps six or seven miles, but locating the guest house hadn’t been easy. Eventually, stopping at a petrol station at the far end of town to ask if they knew where it might be, a car was summoned to guide me there, a few hundred metres back along the road.

A drive way led up to a house set back quite some way from the road, nothing to indicate that it might be a guest house. In what little remained of the light I could pick out some substantial log built cabins, and a large, immaculate white house. I was greeted, in perfect English, by Benny. The place was a Spa, he explained, owned by one of the large Almaty hotels. He looked after it for them, together with a few others from India and a small local staff. Sensing I feared a night here was quite beyond my budget, he added there were rooms in the house for just two thousand Tenge – about ten pounds. I accepted at once, relieved to be off the road at last.

Back on the road again, pushing east once more towards the Chinese border. Ten weeks to Hong Kong. Familiar sights, innocuous things like petrol stations, evoking memories of my unexpected return to Almaty a month or so earlier. A maelstrom of emotion. De facto no from the Chinese Consulate, the subsequent return to the UK, to a seemingly perfect world, time with family, then back to the fray. Jet-lagged.

Found myself suddenly feeling very lonely. Reminiscing about time spent with my parents in their small Cambridgeshire village. The gently flowing brook, well-signed, neatly kept Public Footpaths. Nearby churches that offered walkers afternoon tea on Sundays. A few miles away a small town, its Public School at the very heart of the community. I’d taken the bus there one Saturday. Neatly laid out market stalls in the Square. Smart bookshop. A few cafes. Quieter perhaps than during term time, but even what hustle and bustle there was seemed nicely ordered.

Told myself this was just a natural part of the process of re-adjusting to being back on the road, compounded by tiredness, an unavoidable consequence of the five hour time difference with the UK. For, however disciplined I’d been about treating the UK as a "Nation of Convenience", the transition back was probably never going to be that easy. Something I’d suspected when I’d got back to Almaty. A familiar Western influence amongst its wide streets and pleasant parks. China. The unknown. Uncertain.

The wandering mind. Jolted occasionally by the need to check the map, as much for progress as for direction. Then back into deeper thought, the path ahead. Push for Yining, the first substantive town, a leafy outpost a day’s ride from the border. A few nights there, adjusting to the unfamiliar, then on through the mountains towards the city of Urumqi.

A further eight weeks and I’d reach Hong Kong. Imagined it to be, in a sense, similar to Malta I’d visited earlier in the year. Very different to the UK, and yet pleasingly intuitive. The Colonial influence, eroded little, from what I could glean, by the Chinese in the years since the lowering of the flag. Then on to Australia, New Zealand and North America. Two more continents. No language barriers to frustrate things.

Frequent stops for water. Cooler than it had been, but still around thirty degrees with little shade, especially in the afternoon as the sun moved towards its zenith.

Back in thought. South America. I’d yet to resolve how exactly I’d get there, some parts of Mexico south to Colombia fraught with danger, or just plain difficult to traverse. Then the plunge south, the crossing to South Africa. The final Continent. Had to be the most challenging, risky part of the journey, but by then I’d have a great deal of experience to draw on. And I’d be heading home.

New Zealand’s fine, no visa required, just need to make sure I arrive with tickets for onward travel, and have evidence to show I am able to support myself whilst there. Similar story for Australia, but my online application for a six month visa faltered a bit when required to list countries I’d visited, and there’s a limit of ten. So – if you’re counting – got stuck at the Azerbaijan border.

I thought Canada a bit like New Zealand, with the addition of needing to show ties with the UK. Better find my driving licence. And have to show I’ll leave at the end of my visit. Hopeful a passport full of used visas will be convincing.

I’ve been to the US quite a few times on their Visa Waiver Programme, but that limits me to three months for all of North America, which isn’t enough, and I’d need to show a ticket for onward travel. Which I won’t have. Not until deepest South America. So proper visa required. And whilst all the rules and regulations, the application forms, are rather more extensive than those for Central Asia, shades of the UK’s own onerous requirements, they are at least very explicit about it. Which I like.

Might be making a few Consular calls in Hong Kong. Making sure I get a decent haircut first.

Kazakhstan was the Stan the others secretly wanted to be. Probably. Relatively prosperous, stable, none of the endemic corruption and nepotism I’d encountered elsewhere. The generosity of the people I’d met, their kindness to strangers, quite humbling.

There’d been fresh challenges. The Kazakh Steppe, fearsome heat to contend with. Alone. Learning how best to adapt to such an unforgiving environment. More than physical, part mental, part intellectual. Border crossings in and out of Kyrgyzstan a test of robustness, self-confidence. And an element of brinkmanship.

My point of entry, the large oil town of Atyrau, had been a gentle introduction. An English pub, catering for the influx of Western petroleum workers. But most memorable had been my time in the smaller places, the night spent sleeping on the floor of a roadside cafe, inside a petrol station. Or wild camping in the rolling hills north of Bishkek, pitching my tent as the sun set. Splashing icy cold water on your face in the morning.

I’d also been fortunate to be able to spend a little time with a Kazakh family in the suburbs of Almaty, the former Capital but still the country’s cultural and financial centre. Sophisticated, vibrant, but not claustrophobic. Lots of well kept parks, and a splendid mountain backdrop.

If I’d one regret, it was that I’d not had enough time to be able to cycle the whole way across, entry constraints of my first Chinese visa precluding this. Ironic really, as I’d had ample time on my Kazakhstan visa, and I’d ended up having to return to my “Nation of Convenience” for a fresh Chinese one. Filling in the gaps really wasn’t a practical proposition, for now at least. Besides, it gives me an excuse to return one day and explore some more, not that I really need a pretext to visit. I’d loved my time here.

Using the last vestiges for broadband for a while, James the webmaster and I have made a few subtle changes to the site, and we’ve got quite a bit more planned to help keep things fresh and interesting. Some of our ideas may have to wait until my arrival in Hong Kong in early October, but I’d like to think it’ll be worth the wait!

But, for now, we’ve added a "Press Cuttings" section, and a new map showing my intended route across China. I’m particularly fond of the dragon, and the scale at the top – visit the route section of the website to take a look.

Inspired by the very positive feedback to "Nation of Convenience", a further mini-documentary is beginning to take shape. And, particularly for those of you who find accessing the videos tricky, James and I are exploring the world of podcasts. Of course, all the usual blog posts, video clips – with the obligatory shades, interviews with the team at Somerset’s 10Radio, and photos will be popping up along the way. Internet access permitting.

In the dull but necessary department, we’ve added Terms & Conditions at the bottom of each page, a prelude to us adding a lot more downloadable content for both the avid expeditioner and armchair enthusiast alike.

We’ve already assembled lots of useful information on the Central Asian visa game, common scams, as well as more technical stuff like comprehensive equipment and medical kit lists, and Emma’s vital statistics. Hoping to upload all this shortly, the Great Chinese internet firewall permitting. Ok, here’s a couple of quick samples – "What you need to know – scams" and "Emma’s vital statistics" (shown with a more reputable title) – just click on the relevant links at the end of this post. And we’ve lots more ideas for further content than there are nights in the tent to write it….

If you’ve not already done so, you can sign up for automatic blog updates, delivered straight to your e-mail account – click on blog, enter your e-mail address and press ’Subscribe’ – simple. Or join me on Facebook – link on my home page – lots of fresh content there as well. And to find out more about the UK charity, The Outward Bound Trust, I’m raising funds for, either follow the links on my own site, or just click here.

Attached Files:

• what_you_need_to_know_-_scams.pdf (228 KB)


• across_continents_thorn_exp_expedition_tourer_specification.pdf (887 KB)