The Long Horse Ride Blog

Party, party

2012-01-11T00:25:00.007Z

On arrival home I scarcely had time to draw breath before being plunged into Christmas festivities. There was a slight setback when Gethin announced at 9.30pm on Christmas Eve that the cooking gas had run out, but nothing daunted we all pulled together and produced an almighty spread, as my brother-in-law Russell had under-catered as usual ....the goose, duck, ham and beef could be roasted in the Rayburn and electric oven ..

... while copious dishes of vegetables borne by assorted members of the family appeared at intervals from the garden, as we had suddenly remembered about the electric rings in our outside cabin! I rustled up the bread sauce on my little camping stove.

The amazing Russell (aided by sous chef Gethin) produced another gargantuan meal for 22 people at our annual family dinner and quiz night a few days later, and for the same amount of guests the following evening!

On New Year's Eve the children organised a tremendous 'Second World War' party with Glenn Miller on the record player and the Dambusters showing in the sitting room ....

Here are Jane and Rhiannon the landgirl with their ration books - which entitled the bearer to nine shots of varying alcoholic beverages throughout the evening ... At surprise intervals an air raid siren (hired for the evening) went off and the assembled company trooped down the the cellar - (last one down is dead) but at 11.00pm the 'end of the war' was celebrated with a Victory tea party - sandwiches, sausage rolls, pork pies, cakes, and tea pots filled with something that was perhaps a little bit stronger than tea!

Caradog DJing for Ffrwdfal Radio which was 'broadcast' through the house ...

Na Zdrovya!

All this was followed by a poetry reading in the library (William McGonagle!), fireworks in the front of the house at midnight and swing dancing in the drawing room - a certain couple whose names we shall not mention swung so enthusiastically that it incredibly resulted in a broken ceiling light! Those that were still standing finished up with singing round the grand piano until dawn broke - I gave up and went to bed long before the younger generation.

Thank you siblings for a wonderful start to a year I hope will be less difficult than the last.

Home Sweet Home

2011-12-24T11:24:00.004Z

I am home at last, and just in time for Christmas!

The horses are now legally in Ukraine, at least for the time being. As little Zorbee was having veterinary treatment for an oedema, we submitted an ancillary medical report to Chop customs which I delivered Friday a week ago on the way home. Natalya Radonov emailed me shortly after to say that some military gentlemen had been round to inspect them and all was OK. This should give them about a month's extension, but I still have to be told the the exact date. In the meantime they are having a series of blood tests in the hope that I may still be able to get them into the EU.

While I am away they are in the capable hands of Zhenya, shown below with Hua.

Hua and I set off for home as soon as we had submitted the report, but even our journey home was not stressfree. It took us 15 hours to cross the border into Slovakia, where I was fined 700 euros as I had not realised that one needed to buy a prepaid box to drive on the toll roads, we were stopped by German police for driving too slow on the autobahn, and then Hua was detained in Calais and refused entry to the UK even though he has a Canadian passport. We had to find a hotel for the night (and a restaurant with a large carafe of wine) while we decided our next course of action. Hua has taken the train to Paris, where I hope he will be able to sort things out and come over to Wales after Christmas Day.

We also had to drive through snowstorms on the way home, but Natalya says that this is good luck so perhaps 2012 will be a better year!

Update.

2011-12-13T19:31:00.004Z

On Monday we put in a formal appeal to Chop customs for an extension of stay for the horses. We are now being helped by Igor Parkhomenko, the Managing director in Ukraine for the French freight company http://www.geodiscalbersonge.com/ and he has submitted the same in Kiev.
Today Natalia (and Igor) spent most of the day trying to find out what progress has been made. Eventually Natalia got through to Chop, only to be told that they had no knowledge of the appeal and no record of the case reference number! It was only after talking to them for about an hour that they finally discovered the appeal and have now logged it into their computer system. They also told her it would take about 15 days to process, until she pointed out that in two days time the horses will be illegally in the country. She has now got the name of an official (they declined to provide me with one when I submitted the appeal) and will contact them tomorrow for progress.
All very depressing, and I was only cheered up when Igor burst out laughing when I told him the saga! So it is obviously an expected hazard.

Snow Wish

2011-12-08T12:50:00.011Z

We are back in Ukraine, but not without setbacks, and it is not the end of our problems by a long shot, as I have only been given 10 days (effectively now 8 days) to get the horses out of the country.

Dr Halalzs came to me on Monday to say that Hungarian customs had managed to communicate with one of the chiefs on the Ukrainian side, and I would be allowed into Ukraine so long as I paid a refundable transit deposit for the horses. We packed up rapidly and set off hopefully for the fifth time, but on reaching the other side, were once again refused entry. This time the veterinary certificate was apparently no longer valid again. And they had no knowledge of any communication between the Hungarian customs at Zahony and the Ukrainian customs at Chop.

I had reception on my laptop, and quickly went to email Dr Halazs for the name of the chief who had given permission. In doing so I found an email from someone who has been pulling strings behind the scenes and who had contact details for the chief at Chop. He had apparently been instructed to help. This had a magical effect, and although we had to wait a further 18 hours until the next day, we were driving out of the border post late Tuesday evening.
Waiting at the border.

However, the downside was that I was only given 10 days to get the horses out of Ukraine. As this included the day waiting at the border post, and yesterday driving them out to the stables where they are temporarily staying, this effectively leaves a week. We are trying to get an extension, as this is not enough time to sort out arrangements. I cannot drive them to Russia myself as I do not currently have a visa, and sorting out the logistics of using a transport company, checking the documents are valid, and finding somewhere in Russia to take them will no doubt take longer than a week. The FEI are also looking at another possible option, but I do not yet know the outcome. I think they are annoyed that I jumped the gun in crossing the border, but I had to make a quick decision in a stressful situation.

In the meantime we are holed up at a holiday resort in the Carpathians, courtesy of our Uzhgorod contacts. The horses are in loose boxes and I have room with hot shower, TV (no English!) and this lovely view below over the restaurant to the hills.....

This was the same view this morning!....

Natalia tells me it is an Ukrainian tradition to make a wish when the first snow of winter arrives. I doubt if there is any need to guess what my wish will be!

If you want to stay at a little resort in the Carpathians, Raina-Polyana has large comfortable rooms with en suite facilities, restaurant, billiard room, outdoor swimming pool (summer) sauna, banya, and the attached stables where horses are for hire, and where Bolashak and little Zorbee are staying at present. See http://www.svalyava.ru/fainapolyana.html for photos and rates, even if you cannot understand the Russian text!

Horse Houdini

2011-12-03T11:56:00.008Z

We have now been here exactly three weeks - I could have crossed Hungary in this time!
But everyone is still working very hard to get us out of here, and with the help of the Ukrainian Equestrian Federation we have been looking into the possiblity of hiring an Ukrainian transport company to take the horses to Russia. However, the FEI have also written to the Ukrainian Min of Ag, and we are mainly waiting to see how they respond next week, before taking any other definite action.
So it is another fun-packed weekend in our home sweet home by the muck bins behind the Hungarian border vet buildings. But as you can see there is a nice little garden which will be a plus if we are still here next summer.
Thankfully I have been able to have another shower, so I am not too stinking - apart from my trousers - and my jacket - and my socks. And at least the day temperature has been above freezing today - I know because it has been raining.

The horses are well, if understandably bored. Bolashak keeps managing to unclip his lead rope and dive round into the passage in front of the stalls to polish off the spare hay. Luckily he is very adept at backing up round a very tight corner when we extricate him, although Hua has to pull him by the tail.
Here is the corner below - you have to admit he must be pretty sensible and athletic for a horse over 15 hands!
We have now tied him up with two lead ropes, and here he is looking distinctly miffed - is that evidence hanging from his mouth? Get out of that, Houdini! Just a pity he can't get us out of here.

IMPASSE

2011-12-01T11:09:00.004Z

We have now reached a state of complete impasse.
On Monday Rowena emailed the new certificate of transit application with change of journey plan and authorised by Kiev, and we had it printed out in the Hungarian customs vet service office. We loaded up the horses and crossed the bridge to Ukraine customs for the third time. But it was not to be third time lucky. The veterinary officer told us the photocopied certificate was not valid because it had been issued in Kazakhstan not Ukraine. This was although it was the exact copy of the one we presented last week that we were told was acceptable apart from the journey plan (which we have now corrected). In vain did we tell him that he needed to phone the Kiev office and follow up the case reference number as was required. We were forced to return to the Hungarian side with our tails between our legs.

The following day we had another go. This time, miracle of miracles, there was absolutely no trouble with the certificate. 'Super' cried the veterinary official as he loudly banged official stamps all over my original rejected veterinary certificate. This was no doubt due to the efforts
of Nataliya Radonovskaya on my behalf in Kiev. A big sigh of relief.

But unfortunately not for long. After a lot of hanging around, meetings and discussion, the Chop custom officer decided in his wisdom to reject our entry for a seemingly spurious reason. Apparently individuals cannot transport horses through Ukraine, although I originally entered Ukraine openly and specifically with that intention, and Ukraine customs allowed me to do so. If they had not, I would not be in the Catch 22 situation I am in. As far as I am aware, it was with the full knowledge of the central office in Kiev, though Chop customs now claim that it was a mistake by the border point where I entered. They say the present decision has been made by someone in Kiev.
Interestingly one of the vets on the Hungarian side says he is aware of several individuals who have crossed the border here with horses, so I don't know what the problem is with us. Possibly we were not forthcoming with a 'gesture of friendship'.
At one point in the proceedings they brought up the requirement to pay a refundable deposit of 40 percent of the value of the horses on entry. I was already aware of this requirement which had not been enforced on our initial entry, although I had the money ready. We dug out the paperwork showing the original value of the horses and were willing to pay, but for some reason this option seemed to be withdrawn. We were also told to get a carnet ATA from Hungary, but we have since been told by Hungarian customs that this is not possible in any case as the horses have never officially entered Hungary.
After a lot of haggling the vet officer appeared to give in and give permission, to the extent that I filled in a customs declaration form, but when we drove out, we suddenly found ourselves guided back across the bridge to Hungary. In vain did we go back and plead to the new shift who had just taken over, apparently the decision had been made.

We have now spent nearly three weeks in a freezing (literally!) lorry, but the bottom line is that if I cannot get the horses out to Russia via Hungary, they will have to be put down.

I have been emailing frantically to contact everyone I know who could help to resolve this desperate situation. The Ukrainian Equestrian Federation are now on the case, thanks to the efforts of the International Equestrian Federation, and the British consulate are also helping. But any relevant contacts are most welcome - I am trying to attack from all angles. There should be a press release today.

IONA

2011-11-26T10:57:00.004Z

I had rather hoped the brand new Certificate of Transit would be ready yesterday, but no luck. As no-one works in Astana at the weekend, we now have to hang on until Monday and hope it comes through then. In the meantime it is beginning to look dangerously as if snow is on the way, and the ground was covered with a fine icy drizzle this morning, absolutely lethal to walk on....

......Tamas skates around on it in his shoes with the gay abandon of youth, but ancient crones like me are reduced to a cautious shuffle.

While I am huddled here in the cold I may as well plug my daughter Iona's new website http://www.ionathomas.co.uk/ . She sings to accompaniment of harp or guitar, and is available for gigs and weddings.

One of her new promotional photos in sweet and innocent guise.....

.....and the more sexy version .... what is she not wearing, says her mother in a slightly disapproving tone of voice.......

A run for the Border

2011-11-24T12:52:00.006Z

I have caught up with my emails at least for the moment!
On Monday I asked Dr Halascz to print out and try and decipher the emailed documents that Matt has sent at the weekend. Although they were both issued by the Kazakhstan office, one seemed to have a transit authority on it, although it wrongly specified Vylok rather than Chop, which Rowena was in the process of trying to rectify. Rather than hang around for another couple of days for the corrected document I decided to have a run for the Ukraine border and see what happened, a good decision as it turned out.

Early Tuesday morning we loaded up the horses and said goodbye to the vets, hoping we would NOT see them again - here is Hua with Tamas, one of our young Hungarian vet officer friends - and after negotiating the Hungarian customs, set off across the bridge over the river Tusa to Ukraine.
Almost immediately on arriving an Ukrainian customs official was fussing that the photocopied certificate was ineligible because it was issued in Kazakhstan not Ukraine. Eventually a vet officer appeared who confirmed that it contained the relevant authority in the form of a registration number. Sigh of relief, but not for long.
We seemed to be progressing through the system, albeit at the usual snail's pace, when another bombshell. The vet officer told us the certificate was not valid because the Kazakhs had not changed the journey plan and it still went from east to west. Consternation. But apparently if we can get that changed, all should be well, though no doubt they will find something else next time. It sometimes seems to be a game of trying to guess what is needed and then keep on trying until your guess is correct. Although to be fair, the woman vet official we had this time was prepared to give some advice on the phone to my Mrs Fixit Natalia, so hopefully we will get it right next time.

But after most of the day hanging around outside and inside offices in Chop customs, it was back to Hungary with our tails between our legs. The horses are back in their stalls (no doubt to the pique of the vet staff as they had just been thoroughly cleaned out and disinfected) and we are back on our pitch by the muck bins.
Rowena has been on the case pronto, and another hopefully perfect application with full corrections was winging its way to Astana yesterday morning. I cannot imagine what would have happened without her and Matt working behind the scenes.
Most annoying as I will be missing a few functions at home I was hoping to attend.

All Iced Up and Nowhere to go.

2011-11-24T10:46:00.008Z

Sunday November 20th
We have been stuck here for a week now. Happily the staff at Hungarian border vet service have been incredibly sympathetic and accomodating - I have to thank Dr Bertalan Halascz for looking after us all so well.
The horses have been moved into indoor stalls in their most impressive and well kept equestrian facilities which are totally pristine and hygenic - you could eat off the floors.
Here are Bolashak and little Zorbee in their cosy quarters - I have now removed Bolashak's rug.

The border vet service have also been providing them with excellent hay, so there has been no worries about feed supply, although we do have a couple of bales of hay and some horsehage on the lorry.
Everything is regularly cleaned and disinfected, and we have been provided with disinfectant pans for when we move to and from the lorry or the stables.

As far as paperwork is concerned it has just been a waiting game and I am waiting until office hours tomorrow to see whether our transit authority has been OKed by Kiev. Matt has emailed a certificate from Kazakhstan, but as it is in Russian I cannot understand most of it.

Meanwhile we have been made relatively comfortable in the circumstances. I have been able to have a couple of piping hot showers in the border vet buildings, and they have provided us with an electricty cable to the lorry which means we have light and I can keep my laptop operational 24 hours a day. The Ukraine dongle is not working too badly out here in the lorry, though unfortunately it will not work in the warmth of the vet offices, where we are allowed to sit if they are open.

Home, Sweet Home ....

The weather has been absolutely freezing, apparently unusually so for the time of year, and several mornings I have had to break through the ice on the washing up bowl in the living area.

However I am perfectly cosy at night in the luton with two sleeping bags and a double duvet, although the book I am reading below says it all .......

The other plus is that we can walk out into Hungary to have the occasional meal at a local restaurant, and to food shop. Moral boosting bottles of Hungarian wine seem to feature quite heavily on the shopping list at the moment.

Good News and Bad News

2011-11-24T09:15:00.007Z

Monday morning. November 14th
The good news is that on Saturday November 12th I reached the Ukraine-Hungary border at Vylok. The border guards were very touchy about taking photos so I have only included one of Bolashak and I entering Vylok. I am very happy at this achievement as it was the furthest point I was aiming to get to this year, as I knew it would give me the winter break to sort out arrangements for smooth start in the EU next year, probably in March.

However the problems have already started. When we reached the Vylok border crossing, we discovered it was for cars only, and although the horses could cross the border here, the lorry would have to go round via Chop, probably at least an 8 hour detour, not including time at the border crossing. We decided it was too risky to split up for such a long time and distance, particularly as it was getting on in the day. Vylok fatally and inaccurately told us that there was only a vet check on the Ukrainian side of the border at Chop, so we decided to truck the horses north and cross there.

We crossed through Ukrainian customs without too much hassle apart from a delay while they queried the stamp on the veterinary certificate in lieu of a Certificate of Transit. Luckily I still had the number of the vet office at Dovhzhansky, and they spoke to Vera who confirmed it was OK.

We arrived on the Hungarian side in the dark and were guided into the vet service compound while the resident vet (yes there was a vet check!) went off to get the paperwork checked as there seemed to be a problem. About 2.30am on Sunday morning he called me in. Big problem - the horses absolutely could not be let into Hungary due to EU restrictions on horses originating from Kazakhstan - no matter that they had been out of that country for nearly 3 moonths and the Kazakh vet had assured us that the paperwork would get us all the way through. Tim Cope had somehow managed to get his horses into Hungary at least for a while, but I had been unable to contact either him for advice, or the Hungarian vet contact I had been given.

There was nothing for it but to go back to Ukraine and think again. So in the morning back we went. Even bigger problem - we were now not allowed back into Ukraine as they said the Ukrainian Certificate of Transit had now been used up, although I still had about 4 months to run on it. In vain did I plead that it was impossible for us to go westwards into Hungary.

Frantic phone calls to Natalia, my wonderful Kiev rotarian contact who got in touch with nearby Rotarians in Uzhgorod. But the Chop customs were extremely rude and unhelpful, would not give us advice on the best course of action or let us stay on the Ukraine side overnight while we tried to sort out a solution, and virtually physically ejected us back to the Hungarian side.

So here we are parked round the back of the Hungarian veterinary facilities, which I have to say are superb. We quietly got the horses off the lorry yesterday evening as they had been on the lorry for a day and a half, and tethered them on the lawn - luckily the ground is frozen fairly hard so they will not make too much mess.

Rowena and Matt got on the case immediately yesterday and are organising an application from Kazakhstan for a new Certificate of Transit.

In the meantime we are settling in for a few days wait.

Little Zorbee has a well deserved rest.

I am a National Celebrity

2011-11-24T06:57:00.009Z

Riding out of Soltvino near the border with Romania, I was stopped by an enthusiastic local businessman outside a very bling house with gold trimmings and fountain at the front. He was insistent that I come in for food. Normally I would try and make my excuses and move on - as much as I would like to take up all these kind invitations, if I accepted them all I would still be in China. But it transpired he had seen me on national news, and hey, who am I to disappoint my fans.
So I tied Bolashak to the railings, and here we are in Vassar's house (apologies if I have spelt the name wrong) in front of a wonderful spread conjured up by wife Lena. And of course washed down with a couple of shots of vodka, although Hua had to abstain as Ukraine is extremely strict about drinking and driving.
I also tried their salo, slices of pure lardy pork fat very popular in Ukraine, and which I had previously found rather distasteful - but I enjoyed their offering.

From left to right: Vassar Jnr, Diana, Lena, Hua, Vassar Snr - his friend the local chief of police also paid us a courtesy visit later on.

By the time we set off again it was getting into late afternoon, and we needed to find somewhere to stop for the night. But surbubia seemed to roll on, and the houses seemed to get more and more fantastic, I suppose a combination of being even nearer the EU border and close to Transylvania! - Chernivtsi eat your heart out.

I was amazed to come across this monstrosity (but only one tower) .......

...... and then this Gothic fantasy ........

.........now they are sprouting up like mushrooms or have I got triple vision ... I am sure I only had two very small vodkas with Vassar .......

----this is getting ridiculous .........

.......... No-o-o-o-o-o-.................

..thankfully dusk fell after this and put an end to my imaginings ... or were they?

We reach the Centre of Europe.

2011-11-23T19:42:00.023Z

Wednesday November 9th
Since leaving Lazeshina, we have been following the rushing course of the river Tusa along a lovely forested valley towards the Romanian border.

I had been rather intrigued by some strange empty wooden structures I had seen in the Carpathians, when it suddenly became apparent what they were - expandable hay barns! The roof can be be moved up as more hay is added - see the half empty barn to the right of the one in the foreground.

Do cars grow on trees in the Carpathians? A novel way to advertise the local garage!

But in fact horses as much as cars are a way of life in this region, and I have seen many horses with carts in the last few days.

The school run!

This larger than life character with his face emblazoned on the poster on the barn behind him, runs a horse trekking business.

Most outfits are pulled by a pair of horses attached to a central pole, although in this strange case the pole appears to be dragging along the ground at the back! The red tassels attached to the bridle also seem to be a traditional local feature.

And we even saw this sight - horses put to the plough. Interestingly they are led at the front by a helper who walks backwards.

Just past Rakhiv we came upon this surprise - the Geographical Centre of Europe. Which should mean I am halfway across Europe and about halfway from Atyrau to London.

A Short Cut through the mountains

2011-11-23T18:47:00.009Z

Tuesday November 8th
A welcome change in the Carpathians has been the abundant presence of clean running water and we have hardly had to use the containers of water in the lorry at all.

Just to prove we are in the mountains! A pass on the road from Verkhovina to Vorokhta, which is a Ukrainian skiing resort.
On the road into the Carpathian National Park.

I had expected the Carpathians to be deep in snow at the beginning of November, as they were last year. As a result I had decided to play safe and stick to the main roads rather than look for more scenic tracks over the mountains. However the weather has been cold but excellent, and I have rather regretted not researching some more adventurous routes.
But in my notorious map book I had seen a track marked which not only looked fairly straightforward, but was a considerable short cut from Vorokhta to the small town of Lazeshina.

Locals in Vorokhta expressed doubt, but I have sometimes found that such advice needs to taken with a pinch of salt. As an example, a couple of guys at Kosiv had warned us strenuously against taking the road from Verkhovina to Vorokhta as they indicated it was almost impassable, whereas it turned out to be one of the better roads we have been on in Ukraine. I have to admit I was slightly disappointed as I was all set to get out my horse packing equipment and meet Hua at the other end.h

So although it was getting late in the day, off I set up a good gravel road which soon turned into an earth one - below is the view looking back before I reached the top of the hill ...........

.........where a highly dubious local boy eventually reluctantly pointed me down a grassy track into the forest. His hesitation was soon explained when the track petered out into a frozen and almost impassable gully filled with fallen logs.

Below is a distinctly pissed off Bolashak as I have just made him scramble down the gully and over all the logs in the background.............

.....and more was to come - a tunnel under a railway line .......

........but eventually after scrambling along a stony river bed we reached a logging track as dusk began to fall .......

....although it was still a couple of hours ride to the town of Lazeshina where Hua was waiting in a bit of a panic as by now it was pitch dark, and locals had been regaling him with tales of the wolves that roam the forests here.

At home with the Hutsuls

2011-11-23T13:22:00.019Z

Monday November 7th
Since leaving Chernivtsi I have been heading towards the Carpathians and Count Dracula territory.

This gentleman was overcome with excitement to talk to me and gave me a very exuberant send off with sloppy kiss - I managed to avoid lip contact. Not really husband material, though on the plus side he did have a horse and cart.

In the last few days I have seen quite a lot of gates decorated like this for happy wedding couples with ribbons etc and always a pair of entwined rings.

A storks nest!

Early morning rays of sun catching the gravestones around an Orthodox church. It is common for gravestones to have photos of the deceased as shown here. In the distance the Carpathians are looming into view.

Into the Carpathians

People keep small numbers of sheep in this area, and these colourful hand woven wool rugs were for sale along the side of the road as I gradually rode up into the mountains. Usually they have grey and white traditional patterns, rather than these colourful Carpathian scenes. And they are always for sale with the ubiquitous hand knitted woollen socks that seem to be for sale all over the world in colder climes. So the family can once again greet their Christmas presents with cries of 'Oh how unique'. As I was riding down into the little town of Krivorivnya, I was accosted by a small and friendly group of locals including the two shown above - charming priest Ivan and teacher Mariya who spoke fluent English. Would I be willing to stop at the school in Krivorivnya and talk to the children there? Of course I would. Then it transpired that Australian Tim Cope, who rode unsupported with 3 horses from Mongolia to Hungary, (see http://www.timcopejourneys.com/page/journeys/on-the-trail-of-ghengis-khan/ ) and had passed through Krivorivnya in 2007, had talked to the school and stayed for ten days with Ivan!
So I rode on to the little school, was greeted by the headmaster, presented with
a lovely bunch of flowers, a natty purple to match my jacket, and taken to the school hall to give a question and answer session, conducted by Ivan as shown below ...

This part of the Carpathians is home to the Hutsuls, an Ukrainian mountain shepherding people who are fiercely proud of their unique culture and traditions - look at Tim Cope's website for much more detail of their lifestyle than I can give here. To the right of Ivan is a group of girls who had run off to attire themselves in their traditional Hutsul dress. To my right is Mariya, and on my left is Ivan's bright son Pavlo also in Hutsul costume. The woman on the far right is the English teacher - Pavlo being her star pupil - his command of English was remarkable for a 13 year old who had only been studying English for 4 years.

A school group on the front steps - I am in there somewhere!

After lunch in the school canteen it was off to the next town of Verkhovina, where we were to stay with Mariya. She cleverly managed to negotiate overnight accommodation for the horses in the gardens of the mayoral offices, complete with security guard!

Mariya was truly the hostess with the mostest and treated us to a wonderful tea while we gave some English practice to three gorgeous young girls who were her evening English pupils - if the children I met during the day were representative of Ukrainian youth then Ukraine has a bright future. This was followed by the spread shown below - the meat and potato dish on the left was truly scrumptious, and accompanied by shots of Mariya's golden home made vodka from the decanter in the middle.....
The golden colour is given by a rather spooky looking 'golden root' that is found in the mountains round here, and which Mariya is displaying in the photo below. Any ideas what it is? Something to keep Dracula at bay? The vodka was most fortifying.

Interestingly. Mariya's husband used to be a history teacher, but had to retrain as a psychologist after Ukraine ceased to be part of the Soviet Union. His history knowledge proved useless when the history taught in schools was no longer the exclusively Soviet propaganda they had previously been fed!

Keeping Up with the Yanukovyches

2011-11-21T16:27:00.013Z

One thing that is noticeable about this part of Ukraine is the number of enormous half-built or seemingly empty mansions. Apparently they are a form of status symbol built by Ukrainians who have made a bit of money abroad and want to show it off. Salaries in Ukraine are desperately low, but because the west is nearer the wealthier EU countries, it is easier for people here to get better paying jobs abroad. Natasha told me that it is mainly women as they can get work as nannies, housekeepers, carers etc The money is invested in these white elephants which are usually only ever really used as show homes, while the householders actually live in more modest quarters at the back which are cheaper to heat etc.

It is also apparent that any self respecting nouveau riche Ukrainian is a nobody unless they have at least one tower on their creation. As you can see, the house above is owned by a two tower family.
A very smart final product, complete with adjacent haystack - one can never quite shake off one's rural roots.

In case you are wondering, Yanukovych is the current President who was accused of poisoning his opponent Yuschenko in the lead up to the 2004 elections and subsequent 'Orange Revolution'.

Chernivtsi hospitality

2011-11-21T13:57:00.017Z

Saturday 5th November
Now in Chernivtsi after a few days riding from the river Dneister.

A wet morning

Is my eyesight getting even wonkier or it this a pedestrian crossing for those 'who have partaken of more liquid fuel than is necessary for their accurate propulsion' as I saw being the worse for drink described in an old motor manual.
A clean stream at last! And Bolashak can't wait to get in there.

I now see the occasional pair of horses put to a cart, always hitched like this to either side of a central pole and wearing breastplates rather than collars.

Another relatively common sight throughout Ukraine are these funny little lawnmower tractors chugging along.

This apple-cheeked fruit seller presented me with a delicious apple and pear from her stall.

We initially stayed near Chernivtsi at a very grand leisure complex in the process of construction - as well as a hotel, restaurant, extensive sports facilities, a tiny zoo with lion, and chalets in woodland set around a small lake, it had stables to house the horses used to pull various carriages to transport visitors. So we all had accomodation for the night....

The photo above shows the restaurant with sign post - you may just be able to see the distance 1137kms to Donetsk - though this will be as the crow flies, and we have travelled a much longer route.

We were taken for a superb Ukrainian evening meal with Crimean wine at the restaurant by Georgi, the President of Chernivtsi Rotary Club, a contact via the wonderful Natalia Radonov in Kiev who in turn I was introduced to by Mary Warnicki from Wales.

Left to right. Georgi, the delightful Natasha who manages the equestrian centre where the horses are now, another friendly Rotarian whose name I am ashamed to say I have forgotten, and Hua who appears to have sequestered my jacket.

We are now staying at the very grand equestrian centre mentioned above, which is on the other side of town. My fame is travelling before me, as in fact it turned out to be the same one Victor from Zaporrizhia had lined up for us, so when the Rotarians informed the stable manager, they were a little surprised to be told ' Oh yes, we are expecting them'.

Natasha organised a press conference for today which was attended by 2 TV cameras (one for national news) and about 15 journalists. I had to load Bolashak onto the lorry and ride him around a bit for the cameras but he behaved like a Hollywood film star.

We cross the Dneistr

2011-11-21T10:01:00.014Z

Monday 31st October
Since leaving Uman, we have left the high road and have been following some quieter rural roads and tracks. Not a welcome sight in the morning.......
......little Zorbee slightly the worse for wear after a rollicking night at an Ukrainian fiesta? No - he has been rooting around in the weeds again, and acquired a liberal coating of these pesky burrs, which are a nightmare at this time of year. Hua spent a considerable time ridding him of this little lot, eventually giving up and trimming part of his mane.

A lady driver with a smart set of hooves.

Brrrrr .... icy autumn mornings are setting in.

Ukrainian women delivering pails of milk to a milk tanker. Surprisingly it is often quite difficult to find milk in rural shops, presumably as most people already have their own cow or a neighbour who does.

Riding through the autumn mists. The colours of the trees are often quite spectacular, but my little camera does not do them justice.

Michael, who came with his tractor to put me and little Zorbee on the right cross country track ..........

...over hill and dale....

.....to reach the second great river in Ukraine, the Dneistr .... .....and here are Bolashak and me about to cross the great dam at Novodnistrovsk today - it acts to create electricity from the river. On the left is the road across the top of the dam, and one can just catch a small glint from the reservoir dammed back behind it.

We visit the River Styx ...

2011-11-20T20:20:00.009Z

Thursday 27th October
I was feeling so rotten after my tooth ache and extraction that it was an enormous relief to have the use of Colai's flat to crash out in, and I decided to stay another day in Uman to recuperate. It also meant we could make the obligatory visit to the 'world renowned' Sofiyivka Park which was only 5 minutes stroll from the block of flats, shown below. Notice the amazing graffiti art on the wall.
Sofiyivka Park is laid out in the Romantic style round a series of lakes and waterfalls.
It was designed in the late 18th century by Polish count Pototsky for his new wife Sofia, a noted beauty and socialite who rose from humble origins as a Greek slave girl. This accounts for the Greek theme, with statues of various Greek mythological figures - here is Hua clinging onto a statue of Orpheus ........

...... and by the tunnel entrance to the Styx, as the underground stream in the background is called! Apparently it is sometimes possible to have boat tours through the tunnel to the lake beyond.

No self respecting Ukrainian girl can have their photo taken without some serious posing, but sadly my inexperienced attempts do not really pass muster.

Today we set off again, and it was sad to say goodbye to all our new friends.

On the far left is Hala who interpreted so competently, 3rd from left is Colai who lent us his flat, and in the stripey shirt in the middle is our delightful host Andrei. Many, many thanks!

I become a dental tourist

2011-11-20T17:32:00.041Z

Tuesday 25th October
Now that Rowena has left me, the photos on the road will be mainly of ears again. Here I am riding along one of the amazing cobbled roads that I increasingly seem to encounter. Sometimes they have been tarmaced over, which I am shamefully grateful for as they are incredibly slippery for the horses, and I either have to ride at the side of the road, or get off and lead them.
I am also now encountering the occasional horse and cart, and almost always stop for chat in halting Russian - generally ' What a beautiful horse' which is usually true and makes everyone happy. The horses are always driven in open bridles, in other words without blinkers as horses generally are in Britain. The cart shown here is very typical.
We have continued to have problems with our map book which is only indicative of what to expect - here is Hua asking the way at the edge of a village when a road marked on the map has mysteriously disappeared on the ground.

I had planned to take a more cross country route to Uman, but partly due to these map quirks, and also dire warnings from locals about the state of the road ahead - Kaput!! we were firmly told at one point - we decided to follow the main road via Kirovograd.

In fact this proved to be a good decision, not only because there was a wide verge almost all the way ...

...... but because I developed tooth ache, and was able to go the dentist in Kirovograd, one of the few large towns in the area. It was a little worrying that the dentist just happened to be an old classmate of my taxi driver, particularly when we arrived at a rather unprepossessing block of flats. But the surgery was well equipped, though the skull in the middle of the floor was a bit unnerving, as was the way the dentist leant across my chest to examine my mouth. However he soon had a filling in, and all for a bargain £13!

Then it was off towards Uman, but not without a further delay. This time it was Hua - who managed to get stuck in a village while fetching water. After being towed out by tractor, he was so overexhilerated that he ran straight into a rock and damaged almost the whole of one side of the lorry. Luckily nothing too serious, but it necessitated a detour to a nearby town where the dents were hammered out at a repair shop - the photo below with a shame-faced Hua is taken after some of the hammering ..

...... and they fitted a new accumulator whatever that is and removed the cracked water container for the windscreen washers. But we can no longer open the passenger door. Heigh Ho.

On the road from Kirovograd to Uman

A roadside 'cafe' selling a sort of rural Ukrainian version of pizza slices, and packet coffee - hence the thermos of hot water. Not very enticing, but hey one has to make a living somehow.

I have now arrived at Uman to a warm welcome from Andrei and crew at the showjumping stables. The outfit is very plush as you can see from the photo above of the indoor riding school.

One of the 'team' here, Nicolai, or Colai for short, has very kindly given us the use of his flat. This has been highly appreciated in the circumstances as my toothache problem did not go away, and today I went to the dentist again - this time recommended by our Uman hosts and infinitely more professional. Extraction was advised and efficiently done, again for a ridiculous fee - this time for about £12 including injection, so I am now an official dental tourist.

To Krivvy Rig

2011-11-15T15:06:00.017Z

Monday 17th October
For the last few days we have been riding to Krinichki, just to the north of Krivvy Rig, where our next host Alexander was waiting.

With English teacher Irina who befriended us, and let us fill up all our depleted water containers from her well.

Why would anyone want to put a scarecrow on a dung heap?

These strange metal trap doors we saw outside former Soviet housing blocks in some towns are not the entrances to dungeons, but to root cellars for storing vegetables etc.

Rowena and Bolashak on the road to Kirove

Very small horses or very tall rushes?

A bread kiosk - bread is very important in Ukraine.
-

Nearing Krivvy Rig we came across this seemingly abandoned war memorial in the middle of nowhere.......

What better way to go than in the arms of a singularly well endowed lady soldier.

We had a tremendous welcome from all at the showjumping stables at Krinichki. They managed to clear out a couple of unused loose boxes for the horses, the faulty oil filter on the lorry has been changed, and we have been lavishly fed and watered. Here we are having another delicious meal washed down with Crimean wine. Left to right, Hua, Alexander who owns the stables, Lera, Hermann, Katya who produced the wonderful spread, Rowena who looks as though she has had a few glasses.

A demented looking Hua trying to appear fiercesome in Hermann's Cossack outfit.

Alexander took us home to his comfortable house to shower and sleep. Rowena has now left to return to Kazakhstan and I shall very much miss her company.

All Change in Zaporizhia

2011-11-15T12:34:00.011Z

Wednesday 12th October
We have been taking a few days off in Zaporizhia on the great river Dneiper - the Cossacks had a former headquarters on Khortitsia island in the middle of the river here. Rowena and I rested at a hotel in the centre of town, while the horses have been very well looked after at a private showjumping yard in Malakaterinka to the south. The hospitality has been second to none, and nothing has been too much trouble.
On Sunday night we were treated to a most convivial barbecue at the stables with Victor who owns the outfit, family and friends. erAccompanied by much laughter and toasting. Below left to right - Rowena, Victor's son Andrei, girlfriend Tia, Victor, Alexander who showjumps, the showjumping trainer also called Victor just to be confusing, Igor? the vet, and Dasha, Victor's daughter, who is a mean little rider.

They have been immensely generous, welding the broken lorry ramp and thoughly washing down the outside and the horses area, and providing us with hay and oats. Victor the trainer spent time with us identifying stables across Ukraine where we can stay - he intends to warn them that we are on the way. Many, many thanks for all your help!

It has also been a time for an all change in drivers, as on Saturday Rupert returned home to work in London (thank you for all your hard work Rupert!) and on Tuesday evening we were joined by Hua, my former riding partner in China.

The following afternoon we set off on the next leg to Krivvy Rig, minus the cat who appeared keen to join us.
Dasha, Alexander and trainer Victor rode with us across the fields for the first couple of kilometres - here we all are about to head off.

Left to right, Rowena on Bolashak, me like a little pony club girl on little Zorbee, Dasha, Alexander and Victor on their imposing showjumpers - they mainly keep Irish sport horses and Westphalians.

Today we rode up the river to Zaporizhia, and had a very civilised break for cappuchino at this riverside cafe facing Khortitsia island - you can see the marquee has Khortitsia inscribed at the top.

Rowena and Bolashak crossing the first bridge over the Dneiper to Khortitsia island

Me with the two horses on Khortitsia island. There is a large museum on the island dedicated to its history and Cossack occupation - we made sure we visited it on one of our days off

Snapshots from the road

2011-11-15T12:05:00.007Z

Another days ride through beautiful Ukrainian countryside.

It has been surprisingly difficult to find a convenient water supply for the horses. I had imagined there would be plenty of small streams now we have left the drier areas of Eurasia, but in fact this has not been so. Rupert has been kept busy trying to persuade locals to let him use the precious water from their wells when there is not an alternative supply. Here is an elderly babuschka giving him a lesson on how water should be raised from a well - a public one in this instance.

A typical little Ukrainian house in eastern Ukraine.

.......... and a typical sight outside one! Many people have benches by their front gates where they can sit and chat and watch the world go by.

Supper by the campfire

at it again ....... scrumping for walnuts this time.

Rowena Joins Us

2011-10-24T20:36:00.014+01:00

Thursday 6th October

Rowena has joined us, and it is great to have some company through the superb open riding landscapes we are encountering. We have enjoyed cutting across country on little earth tracks through huge arable fields ...........

.....and through the villages Rowena has been able to indulge in some productive scrumping - here she is in Bacchus mode devouring some grapes which had 'gone wild' over the fence.

Her other favourites are walnuts from the many walnut trees which line the village lanes.

Asking the way from a bemused elderly local - neither he or Rowena were much wiser at the end of the conversation.

A meal at an extraordinary military brigade restaurant we came across.

Who is the dummy? Rupert is apparently held prisoner by one.

Little Zorbee doing his bit for British-Ukrainian relations - Giving pony rides to local infants .........

......and making friends with an Ukrainian goat........

A novel well!

We have seen surprisingly few horses, but many of them are very similar to our own Welsh Cob.

We Set Out Across the Ukraine

2011-10-24T19:51:00.010+01:00

Blog posts in the Ukraine will be out of date, as I have been having difficulty accessing the internet with my Ukrainian dongle, which only seems to work in large towns!

Friday 30th September.

On Monday the 26th September Rupert and I drove the horses back to the border to start off on the crossing of Ukraine. It was quite amusing to see the familiar faces, in particular helpful veterinary officer Andrei, seen below with me as I set out. He had to get special permission to allow the photo to be taken so close to the border as one of the guards objected.

The distant slag heaps remind one that this is in fact an important industrial region.

I bought quite a detailed map book of Ukraine at Stanfords in London, but as Rupert said, it really only suggests what is on the ground - here he is having a baptism of fire on a road that was marked as metalled on the map, but turned out to be a heavily rutted earth track. Thankfully his army HGV driving experience came in handy.

But the countryside I am riding through is delightfully rural, with picturesque little houses set in their own plots among fruit trees.

Water supply is from wells, sometimes public as below, though many people have their own well on their plot.

Everyone keeps poultry, and flocks of geese are a common sight wandering along the lanes.

Some delightful Ukrainian children - they are all very polite and friendly.

In fact everyone bends over backwards to help us. Valeri below went out of his way to show us a short cut route over the hill in his car, and threw in a visit to a memorial to a local war hero as well. And kissed my hand when he left! Is he a dwarf, or is Rupert a giant?

A weekend in Donetsk

2011-10-10T13:03:00.022+01:00

Sunday 25th September
I am free of No Man's Land at last! On Friday morning a determined Ukrainian lady vet official who was on duty for the day marched up to my lorry and ordered me to the office to ply me with tea and snacks, exhorting me with cries of 'kushit, kushit' (Eat, eat). Vera (seen below with me) fussed over me like a mother hen, but more importantly gave me the good news that the documentation was on the way! The horses were loaded up, but I had to go through all the customs process again, which as before took another couple of hours, though at least many of the customs officials now knew me by name! But interestingly no-one asked for the £1000 worth of hrivnas as a deposit which I had ready. Sometimes it seems as if the right hand does not know what the left hand is doing in some of these Eastern European countries. Finally the lorry was waved through in mid afternoon, and off I went, complete with parting gift from Vera - an enormous loaf of bread which should last a week.
It was getting dark by the time I reached Makeevka near Donetsk, where I had been invited to stay with Nadiya, who met me in the car with husband Nikolai. We off loaded the horses at a nearby stables before driving back to their flat overlooking a reservoir.
Nadiya teaches English, and the following day when she discovered I was qualified to teach English, she whisked me off to help with her English classes at Saturday language school, Here we are with one of the older classes. On Friday night, when I was attempting to follow Nicolai through the strange and busy streets of Makeevka in the dark, I nearly ran into a car, which raised a storm of abuse from the woman driver - directed at Nadiya in the passenger seat of the lorry as of course in Ukraine vehicles are left hand drive. Embarrassingly Nadiya recognised the driver as the mother of two of the children in this class, and we had to apologise profusely to her when she turned up to collect them!

Sunday was Donetsk sightseeing day, and my new volunteer driver Rupert arrived just in time to join the fun. Here is Rupert and the girls in front of the huge Shakhtar football stadium. Donetsk is in a fever of excitement as it is hosting the Football Euro 2012, and the area near the stadium has been majorly revamped.

L to R. Masha, Nadiya' daughter Oxana, Nadiya, Rupert, friend Julia.

Donetsk is an iron and steel town, and next port of call was an amazing park full of iron work sculptures, many of them the result of an annual metalwork competition which attracts competitors from all over Europe.

These padlocks are locked onto this ironwork pavilion by newly married couples - what happens when they divorce I do not know - the divorce rate in the Ukraine is high as women marry quite young.

Iron weighing scales. We appear to be evenly balanced but I think Masha is che ating with one foot on the ground.

And of course I had to have a go on the iron horse.

Donetsk was founded by Welshman John Hughes from Merthyr Tydful, and for a Welshwoman like myself, no visit to Donetsk would be complete without a visit to the statue of the great man himself.

If you want to know what John Hughes looks like in Cyrillic, look above.

A meal with the family at home - Nikolai produced some wonderful fried fish.

L to R. daughters Katya and Oxana, Rupert, Nikolai and Nadiya.

Stuck Again ...

2011-10-10T10:18:00.026+01:00

Thursday 22nd
.....this time in No Man's Land on the waste ground between Russia and Ukraine. I arrived at the border on Tuesday morning and managed to get through Russian customs with not too much difficulty although they seemed to be fussing un-necessarily about an absent document. But I knew my Kazakh 'team', including Gadik the vet, had double-checked the border requirements with the Ukraine Border Commission, which was why I had horse passprorts and up to date veterinary documents specifying exactly which border crossings we would be using, not to mention £1000 worth of Ukrainian hrivna stashed away in my bag to pay the deposit we had been told we would need.
But after much toing and froing and sitting around in offices while the Ukrainian vet officer and other assorted officials shook their heads and made copious phone calls, I was told categorically that some documentation was missing. But with my limited Russian it was almost impossible to decipher what it was and how I would go about getting it. They directed me to drive back to Russia until I pointed out that my Russian visa was now defunct as I had officially been stamped out. I can go forward but not back, and the horses can go back but not forward, and of course I cannot abandon them. So I have been sent out onto No Mans Land while we untangle the mess. The vet official would not let me unload the horses, so they had to stay on board on Tuesday night, not unsurprisingly keeping me awake with their stamping. I feel a bit like Tom Hanks in the film 'The Terminal' except with no elderly male version of Catherine Zeta Jones.
I have desperately been phoning Matt and Rowena, the British Consulate, and Nadiya the Ukrainian contact given me by the British Council to see if we can find out , exactly what is required. It appears the horses need some sort of Certificate of Transit to enable them to travel across the Ukraine once they have entered.
Yesterday I temporarily breathed a sigh of relief when a new vet officer told me everything was in hand and he had applied for the certificate. He also gained permission for me to take the horses off the lorry, and they are happily grazing in the long grass at the side of the road, which eases the stress factor as far as I am concerned.

But today yet another vet official Andrei told me that it was not sorted. Eventually after much more phoning around it turned out all we needed to do was for my Kazakh based 'team' to get the Kazakh veterinary officials in Astana to send a request for the certificate, and it should be granted pretty quickly. They are on the case, and there is hope that it will be sorted out tomorrow.

We reach Ukraine

2011-10-10T08:56:00.011+01:00

Monday 12th September
I have arrived at the Russia-Ukraine border!
I made good progress over the last week and had the excitement of crossing over two more major rivers - the quietly flowing Don ......

.........and the Donetsk, on a rather scarily high bridge, at least for me..........

Giving his son a ride on Bolashak is this friendly guy from Zimovniki, who gave us advice on routes and found an excellent cafe to eat and Skype.
John Wayne rides again ...........
We ran into another Catch 22 of bureaucracy on our way across Russia as it transpired that the Russian border police had not given us some necessary form to log our kms travelled as the Mercedes is too old to have a tachograph. But although it was not our fault, we were still required to pay a fine at certain points. However these two amiable officers let us off - apparently a ride on Bolashak goes a long way in these parts.

Bolashak and I arriving at the Russia-Ukraine border...I am now staying overnight at the nearby town of Shakhty as I need to sort out train ticket home for Baurzhan, and around £1000 worth of Ukrainian hrivnas before tackling the border. I have to hand over a deposit of 40% of the value of the horses there, to be reimbursed when leaving the country - something to do with controlling the importation of horses.

I will be very sad to see Baurzhan leave. He has been a trusty and resourceful companion, even though he managed to lose my tethers, run over my saddle, and get the lorry stuck on the steppe - but it all adds to the challenge!

Into Rostov Province.

2011-10-09T08:18:00.015+01:00

Monday 12th September
As I have ridden past Elista and into Rostov province, the scenery has begun to change quite markedly from dry open treeless steppe to a landscape of enormous unfenced arable fields bounded by lines of trees. At this time of year the fields have either been ploughed, or lie fallow with large herds of fat cattle grazing on the stubble, sometimes mere dots on the horizon.

What we British would call proper grass has begun to appear, and the horses are eating their fill with the help of 'Doctor Green' who will hopefully put some more flesh on their bones as they both need more condition.

The further west I ride, the more trees are appearing, and the countryside has a much more European feel to it, particularly as the faces one sees are mainly Caucasian.

Another noticeable feature is the appearance of the rich black chernozem soil (black earth) which makes this part of Russia and much of Ukraine so fertile that it has been called the 'breadbasket of Europe'.

I am still being pursued by rainstorms - will we make it to the truck in time? - in this case yes!

Agricultural produce is often for sale with at the side of the road - potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, and in this case, onions, which is what the little sign announces in Russian.

We meet many friendly Russians.......

Michael from Elista and his entourage - he was an amiable horseracing enthusiast who stopped for a chat - rather limited in view of my poor Russian, but the subsequent photofest translated into any language. He had a lovely thoroughbred stallion and mare in the red van behind him.

Something that took my fancy. Not the toothless herdsman I hasten to add, but the little grey mare.

This elderly character with Baurzhan was a charming Turkish herdsman.

Not a dead horse but little Zorbee rolling at dusk after a long day.

Dog trap.

2011-10-09T07:51:00.007+01:00

Health and safety issues are hardly a priority in many Asian and Eastern European countries, and open manhole covers and similar obstacles are a constant danger.

When riding into Elista I imagined I heard a dog barking, but not a canine was in sight - then I realised it came from a hole in the ground. A stray dog had fallen into one of these traps. Baurzhan investigated .....

.....and managed to dangle my reins into the hole, twist them round the dog's neck, and flip him up to safety.

An somewhat undignified extraction for a rather shamefaced and disorientated mutt, but at least he was saved from a lingering death.

To Elista

2011-09-14T19:52:00.014+01:00

Me on little Zorbee the toad horse by one of the steppe lakes

Apparently belabouring offending motorists on the backside with their stripey batons is recognised practice for traffic police in this part of Russia?

This floating police car is seemingly another effective means of traffic control. It is actually made out of plywood, and is surprisingly realistic from a distance - it fooled me though I was hardly breaking the speed limit on my horse.

Mischa was the first mounted herdsman I have encountered in Russia, compared with Kazakhstan where many herdsman are on horses. He is showing off some form of steppe dressage in response to a request to pose for a photo.

The first real grass that the horses have probably ever encountered as they were both born and bred in Atyrau.

Bolashan arrives at the Elistinka river, which apparently lives up to its name. A local warned us
not to let the horses drink from it as it carries a lot of effluent from the town of Elista where we are currently staying.

Dropping Anchor

2011-09-14T19:20:00.006+01:00

Of all the roadside shrines I have encountered in this part of the world, this must be one of the most unusual. Obviously a nautical chap, and one who liked a tipple, judging by the vodka bottles neatly stacked at the side.

Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink

2011-09-13T17:36:00.011+01:00

Hurray - we have come unstuck, in the best meaning of the phrase. We woke this morning to unwelcome overcast skies, but a welcome drying wind. Salawat turned up as promised, not with a tractor as they apparently do not exist in Khulhuta, but with a spade, and Bauzhan and he set to. Within minutes the lorry was free, but it was not an occasion for rejoicing as it was soon stuck again on the muddy track to the main road. After about 2 hours of digging, and reversing and revving the lorry forwards, it finally heaved itself out of the morass and we were free!

The next problem was water supply as ironically in all the heavy rain, the water containers for the horses had run dangerously low. Bauzhan drove into Khulhurta to replenish the containers but with no success. The village, as with many others in semi-desert areas, has its water delivered in tankers. Bauzhan found he was even unable to buy this precious water supply. So he resorted to filling up the containers from the muddy puddles which abounded after the storm.

A water tanker - and a tractor - why isn't there one around when you need it?

Later in the day even more huge rain clouds appeared and I got soaked.

But what an impressive sunset afterwards.

Stuck on the Steppe!

2011-09-13T16:43:00.014+01:00

Sunday 4th September

Whenever I cross desert and semi-desert areas that have seen no rain for months, I seem to attract precipitation, and Russia has been no exception. After a long day's ride, I approached the village of Khulhuta as a storm cloud loomed over it. The little speck to the far right of the photo below is the lorry. After narrowly escaping being stuck in the mud near Dossor after a thunderstorm in the spring, I was a trifle worried. But little Zorbee was already staked out, the first drops of rain had started, Bauzhan had supper on and did not seem too concerned at my worries, so I relaxed.

Bad mistake. An almighty thunderstorm passed over with impressive thunder and lightning show, and it continued to rain all night. When Bauzhan tried to drive off in the morning, the lorry managed about a metre before plunging into the sodden steppe earth.

Added to this it has been raining on and off all day, so I am beginning to think it will be days before we get out of here. Most annoying as I was making good progress, but one just has to be philosophical about these things.
A sorry sight -

On the bright side it has given us a chance to sort out the lorry and for Bauzhan to show off his pecs scraping the walls of the living area where there was a carpet covering before - I hate carpet covered walls, so intend to then sandpaper and paint them.

It has actually been quite cosy snuggled up in my duvet in the luton with a book while the rain patters down.

And we have a goodly supply of vodka, not to mention Welsh Country Cottage cakes courtesy of Anthony, to survive on until we are extracated.

Early this evening the Kalmickian version of a knight on a white horse turned up - a friendly Kalmyk-Kazakh called Salawat on his motorbike.

He has promised to return tomorrow to help us out - well he has to as his motorbike wouldn't start and he has had to leave it here. Perhaps we should start a small settlement here based on stuck vehicles.

Into Kalmykia

2011-09-10T17:15:00.003+01:00

Heading into the sunset of Kalmikia - Baurzhan leads the way. The lake on the right is one of the last, getting saltier as we head west.

Leaving Astrakhan

2011-09-10T16:29:00.011+01:00

Friday 2nd September. Sergei the driver turned up at our hotel early yesterday morning to guide us through the streets of Astrakhan back to the roundabout where I stopped riding. I saddled up Bolashak and set off through Astrakhan, with Sergei continuing to act as a guide which was most welcome. Below is Bolashak negotiating one of the two long bridges over the Volga river. I only saw one boatman.
Sergei saw us onto the road to Elista before leaving.

The sign for the chaikhana where we stopped for borsch at midday says something along the lines of Welcome to our Rest Stop. Quite what the relevance of the bear is I am uncertain but the proprietoress was certainly not one. She was in fact most excited as she recognised me as a star of Astrakhan TV and we had to pose for photos. What it is to be a celebrity. From here on I came into a beautiful steppe region dotted with stunning blue lakes fringed with waving green rushes and teeming with birdlife.

Lotsa pititsa. If you are a fan of Clockwork Orange, you no doubt know that the slang used is actually Russian - so you should understand what this refers to. I would be slightly wary of using this picnic site.

Reluctant Russian Puppy

2011-09-09T20:59:00.002+01:00

Astrakhan

2011-09-09T18:58:00.036+01:00

Wednesday 31st September
I had been dreading negotiating Astrakhan's warren of streets to reach the Volga river crossing, not to mention finding a suitable hotel to complete our necessary 5 day registration in Russia. So I was delighted when Matt and Rowena's friend Brian, who was moving to a post in Moscow, promised he would sort something out with their office in Astrakhan. Colleague Vladimir proved to be a Mr Fixit supreme, and we were met on the outskirts of Astrakhan by highly efficient interpreter Olga and driver Sergei. As it transpired that the hotel was a long way away on the other side of Astrakhan and the temperature was about 40degreesC, we loaded up both horses into the lorry, and followed Sergei and Olga to a lovely little hotel in a charming location on a quiet tree-lined street overlooking a canal.

We had air-conditioned rooms with spotless shower rooms, though in true ex-Soviet style, no plug for the sink, and the hot water took about a quarter of an hour to come through. And the impressive looking bar in the restaurant had no booze. But the staff could not have been more helpful, and the horses were in heaven in the grassy yard behind.
And all within walking distance of the centre of Astrakhan.
Our street had some beautiful old crumbling houses which reminded one that this has been an established settlement for centuries. My first aim in the morning was to find somewhere to change the SIM cards for my mobile and dongle. I was struggling to communicate with the shop assistant when fortuitously it turned out that the lady beside me was an English teacher. Tamara took me in hand, marched me off to the relevant shop and sorted me out!

Astrakhan is a most attractive city, and I wandered through a neat lawned municipal park full of trees, flowers and statues, to the Kremlin - no, I did not wander as far as Moscow. Kremlin in fact means fort in Russian, and Astrakhan has been a fortified site for centuries. The Astrakhan Kremlin is a most impressive place surrounded by great white walls and seven watch towers. It was apparently built on the orders of Ivan the Terrible in place of an older fortress, with regards to which my guide book graphically stated ' This fortress was constructed in due time as only discrepancy between the Crimean khanate and the Turkish Empire buggered up their joint crusade against Astrakhan'.

Hopefully this resigned class of Russian schoolchildren 'doing' the Kremlin were not being given the same take on Astrakhan history.

Then it was back to the hotel as Vladimir had sorted out an excellent local farrier to shoe the horses ( no-one was available in Atyrau) and also a visit by local Astrakhan TV. Quite an unusual interview even for me, as the young lady journalist spoke no English, so an English speaker in their office asked me the questions over a mobile phone and then I answered them into the camera!

The wedding cake. Baurzhan poses in front of the green, gold and white confection of the Cathedral of the Assumption in the Astrakhan Kremlin. Surprising to come across St George and dragon here, or should I know better?

War and Peace Does this waterless fountain show the Astrakhan version of a headless chicken?

Border Crossing

2011-08-31T18:17:00.010+01:00

Friday was a great night out following the opening of new offices by one of our sponsors Kaztroy - reception and rooftop party with the unexpected sight of the Kazakh staff performing the conga round the open air pool - happily none of them fell in and I managed to resist attempts to include me.

My hopes of setting off on Saturday were once again dashed by delays in Astana with the paperwork for the horses. However yesterday we were able to collect it all, duly stamped and signed thanks to Gadik the vet, who has worked very hard to sort everything out. Below are the movers and shakers who made it all happen - l to r - Gadik the Kazakh vet, Rowena, and our long suffering interpreter Alia, who tramped round all the various offices with us.

Then it was out to the stables to load the horses, and away by about 6pm - Bauyrzhan has the knack of riding the uneven Kazakhstan roads and managed to drive halfway to the border before we stopped for the night.

Today we reached the Kazakstan-Russia border. Bauyrzhan and the horses sailed through with no problems, but unfortunately it transpired I did not have the required 5 day registration which is done automatically at the airport if you arrive by plane. Rowena had thought that if I said I was moving around it would be OK, but apparently not, so I spent over an hour sitting in a stuffy office while various officials perused my documents at length and slowly produced and filled in umpteen pieces of paper which I then had to sign, not to mention the £80 fine. Heigh Ho, that is old Soviet countries for you. However, being Kazakhstan, everyone was very friendly and I was soon on my way and setting out across Russia!

I had a beautiful ride on a hot but breezy afternoon through mowed hay fields and along a river bank - below is my first photo on the back of the little 'zhaba' horse - you can just see that his left ear is ear marked so it looks quite torn.

We have crossed back over the pontoon bridge - I was not allowed to ride over, so the horses went in the lorry, and I walked over. We have stopped overnight only about 30kms from Astrakhan.

Toad Horse

2011-08-31T12:10:00.031+01:00

Friday August 27th

I arrived in Atyrau to the sad news that Zorbee, my horse that I saved from a sausage fate, and who carried me faithfully right across Kazakhstan, died two days earlier from colic. Rowena thinks it may have been something he ate, as another horse he was kept with also died. Very upsetting as he was a character and a good horse well up to the job and I had intended to ride him all the way to London, but these things happen with horses.

At least I still have two horses to carry on with - Big Bolashak the laid back Anglo-Trakener stallion who came with us from Kyzlorda, and also the original Bolashak ('little' Bolashak) who was ill in the spring and unable to come. He is hardly a beauty, but handsome is as handsome does, and he is a tough little Kazakh steppe stallion of the 'Zhaba' breed with an excellent temperament. Rowena could not understand why the Russian translator rolled about laughing when his breed was mentioned - it turns out 'zhaba' means toad in Russian - so apparently we are now the proud possesors of a genuine pure-bred Kazakh toad horse. Hopefully he will not behave like one. Here he is with Anthony.

The rest of the week has been spent sorting out border crossing documents for the horses, ownership documents for me, registration documents for Bauyrzhan to drive the lorry, insurance for the lorry, contacts in Astrakhan and Rostov etc etc. This has involved an inordinate amount of time in lawyers offices getting the necessary important looking official stamps on anything that rustled.

Anthony flew home on Wednesday - I think he had a lovely time enjoying Matt and Rowena's hospitality ...(below having breakfast outside their house on the banks of the Ural river)...

.....riding on the steppe with Rowena, talking to baby camels (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjo_ztXUsMk ) and sampling Atyrau nightlife (do you think he actually got in? - surprisingly yes).

...and of course the obligatory visit to the Atyrau Indoor Hovercraft Club. As you can see, the hovercraft has come on by leaps and bounds over the last year with the help of several containers full of beer, and the fan has been tested successfully. Whether it is a death trap or not remains to be seen - I will not be around to find out.

To Asia by truck

2011-08-30T18:00:00.017+01:00

Saturday August 20th

Rather a jump in time, as I have been in the UK for two months organising the next leg of the ride. One of the main excitements has been the acquisition of a back up lorry with a basic living area, partly sponsored by Gwyn Williams of local company Tristar trucks. It is an old Mercedes, as I need something which is reliable and can be mended easily in the middle of nowhere - there are no electrics to worry about. Gwyn made sure the lorry mechanics were gone over with a fine tooth comb, and has provided assorted spares including 4 spare wheels. It was a bit of a rush getting everything ready for my eventual departure for Kazakhstan on Sunday August 14th, but the basics are sorted, even though I did not have time to paint the walls of the living area.

At the last minute, old friend Anthony Frost decided to come along for the ride and share the driving, which I was most grateful for. We had an great six days drive out, particularly as Anthony is not one for roughing it, and we stayed in hotels all the way including a marvellously bling Ukrainian one - all that was missing was the gold taps - Anthony was in his element.

For Anthony it was all only marred by the night in the lorry outside an all night shop in Russia patronised by local drunks. We managed to cross all the borders without too much hassle, stay 'illegally' in a hotel in Astrakhan, and negotiate the pontoon bridge on the way to the Kazakhstan border.

As you can see below, Anthony enjoys his food, and I made sure we stopped at a roadside chaikhana in Kazakhstan so he could sample the local cuisine before we hit the expat world of Atyrau - here he is tucking in to a bowl of laghman.

And of course it had to happen - although the lorry flew like a bird for 3000 miles across Europe, we ran out of diesel only 12 miles from Atyrau - I blame Anthony.

We phoned Matt and Rowena for help, but in the meantime, a couple of good Samaritan Kazakh truck drivers stopped and sucked some diesel out of their tank to send us on our way!

The Mosquito coast

2011-08-06T19:10:00.009+01:00

Monday May 30th
After a day's rest in Atyrau, on May 23rd Zorbee and I set off for the Kazakhstan - Russia border, which took us a week to reach. I had been dreading this short leg, as it skirted the northern coast of the Caspian Sea and I feared it would be stiflingly hot and we would be plagued by mosquitoes. However no mosquitoes materialised, and the weather was generally very pleasant, as it has been since leaving Kyzlorda.

The main worry was the occasional camel herd, as Zorbee is still very suspicious of them. One night he was completely freaked by the most horrendous strangulated camel groans in the dark - when I asked Baurzhan in the morning what had been going on, I managed to understand with my limited Russian that it involved two camels, but whether they were fighting or mating I am still uncertain. However as a result Zorbee yomped across through the sand dunes for two days. Baurzhan cheerfully suggested if I tied a camel to his tail I would get to London in double quick time.

This morning I reached my aim - the Kazakh/Russian border - and just in time as I fly back to the UK the day after tomorrow! Unfortunately my camera battery ran out as I was riding out of Atyrau, so I was unable to immortalise the moment.

Into Europe!

2011-08-06T14:39:00.013+01:00

Sunday May 22nd
Last night we camped on the outskirts of Atyrau, tethering the horses in what seemed like an ideal grassy dip, but I was woken in the middle of the night by them galloping around on the ends of their tethers. The reason became clear when I got up to investigate, as when I reached the brow of the dip I could hear the roar of millions of mosquitoes - the poor animals were being bitten to death. I quickly moved them to a more breezy and mosquito free spot, sticking their Lansdowne rugs on for good measure, but Zorbee was already covered with little lumps. Thankfully they went down fairly quickly the next day, which was the BIG day when we rode into Europe!
Rowena came out early to ride Bolashak into to Atyrau. Here are Zorbee and I reaching the city limits.

On the Asian side of the river Ural which is the official boundary between Asia and Europe.Rowena and daughter Gwenny ride Bolashak over the bridge. Not sure why Rowena has a golf club growing out of her head. Husband Matt on the right, son John on the left.

Mission accomplished! Rowena and I on the European side with band of small fans.

And then we rode along the Ural to Rowena and Matt's lovely house overlooking the river. Bolashak and Zorbee are tethered on scrubland outside, and we are psyching up for a celebratory barbeque this evening.

Bolashak at Bolashak

2011-08-03T18:52:00.006+01:00

Friday May 20th
I think I have died and gone to heaven.
Bolashak the horse is named for our sponsor Bolashak, a company providing support services to the Kazakhstan oil and gas industry, including the Italian oil company AgipKCO. So en route we have been hosted at the Bolashak- Agip Samal site near Atyrau. Here is Assambek the general manager welcoming a travel weary, louse ridden and distinctly grubby visitor who is severely in need of a thorough clean.

I was treated to tea and a dainty plate of sandwiches in a small spotless air-conditioned suite in their accomodation block. It has a bedroom, living room, and joy of joys a proper shower which was soon put to good use while my honking laundry was whisked away. It may seem odd to include a photo of what would be a perfectly normal bathroom at home, but after 6 weeks in the sticks this was a real highlight of my trip!

In the photo below our quarters are on the left, with the horses happily tethered outside near a large patch of rushes to munch on.
After drinks at the bar with Rowena and Matt who turned up to join us, photo session with Bolashak outside the main building and a good meal in the canteen, it was back to my room for a dose of English language TV and a sound sleep between crisp white sheets.

Drive carefully

2011-08-03T18:02:00.002+01:00

One often sees shrines at the side of the road in memory of the many fatalities of vehicle accidents. This one rather poignantly included the steering wheel of the victim's wrecked car.

Mukier and muckier

2011-08-03T16:49:00.012+01:00

Wednesday May 18th

A dubious alternative spelling for Muqir - I would not have said it was any muckier than any other small Kazakh town on the steppe.

This was the chaikhana where I had a plate of zharkie, a meat and potato dish. An ominous looking gang of Muqir youths in balaclavas - but in fact most friendly and eager to
be photographed. One often sees men in balaclavas - not due to evil intent, but because of the dust.
Is that a chaikhana I see before me? Always a welcome sight when one is plodding across the steppe for hours, and as I am following the A340, we encounter them more regularly than before.

With the little horse on the sign, this one seemed to be prepared for horse travellers - or perhaps it was an indication that the not particularly good pelmeni (small meat dumplings) on the menu contained horse meat.
As you can see from the photo, thunderstormy weather started to close in. This turns the tracks to slippery glutinous mud which is heavy going for the horses. When we camped on a hillside near Makat, we were hit by a tremendous thunderstorm which completely washed out my tent. The following morning Bauzhan only just managed to get the truck down to the main road by taking a run through the mud and then digging his way out for the last few yards.
The horses were not impressed by this statue of a trader with his camels near Makat!

Along the A340

2011-08-02T16:07:00.007+01:00

Monday May 16th 2011

For the last few days I have been following the A340 which is the major artery between Aktobe and Atyrau, over the route that Rowena and I drove last autumn. The grand title belies the real experience, as it must be one of the worst roads I have driven on - see the December 2010 blogpost 'Braving the Potholes'. The photo below shows us on the brow of the same hill shown in the 2010 blogpost - this time with a horse not a Lada.

But the appalling state of the road makes it excellent for horseriders, as the traffic is minimal with about one vehicle an hour, if that! In dry weather most people drive on the earth tracks at the side of the 'metalled' road, which is more potholes than metal, and the tracks make excellent paths for horses as well.

Bolly had been plodding so slowly up to Bayganin that I had been dreading having to ride him and lead Zorbee, that being a better option than riding Zorbee and dragging Bolly. He was genuinely off colour up to Shalkar, but it is evident that recently he was taking advantage of Yolanda's kind nature, as with a firmer attitude he soon picked up the pace and has been striding out confidently.

The main concern has been the frequent small herds of horses guarded by feisty stallions who always come to investigate intruders on their territory. They are not a problem when riding one gelding, but more worrying when one is riding a stallion and trying to lead an occasionally recalcitrant Zorbee. We are easily visible for miles on the treeless steppe, but I usually manage to duck behind the road embankment out of sight, and sometimes Bauzhan waits in the truck to fend off hormonal males. The little grey stallion with his mares in the photo below persisted in hanging around our camp near Zhamansor one evening until we chased him away over the road.

Yolanda Leaves

2011-07-28T16:13:00.010+01:00

Our new motorbiking friend Assam turned up trumps when we reached Bayganin, sorting out accomodation for both us and the horses. Kazakh friends took the horses in to their secure farm yard, and then invited us in for a traditional Kazakh spread washed down with umpteen cups of Chai from a samovar. Yolanda and I are stting on either side of the elderly babushka or grandmother - she was actually only a year older than me!After our repast, Bauzhan got busy refilling all our water containers from the well in the yard. The well is the circular lined hole in the photo down which buckets were lowered. This was the family water supply. Then we drove over to our accomodation at a restaurant on the brow of a hill opposite, on the road out of Bayganin........

It turned out to be a restaurant where Rowena and I had stopped to eat when we drove back to Atyrau in October last year. Amazingly the proprietors remembered me from then - although I suppose they do not get many elderly foreigners in clapped out Ladas dropping by! I must have been immortalised by returning on a horse.

They had a couple of guest rooms in an building next door. From the outside it may not have looked very prepossessing ......

... but on the inside it was sumptuous, with clean and comfortable beds - the reason I am looking rather pleased with myself!

A big treat was going to the Bayganin public banya. This one had a communal steam room which men and women took turns to use. No large cold water container to fill the sploshing bowls, but a cold tap near the floor which took me some time to find. Yolanda and I went in together and I was able to have a good scrub and hairwash which should set me up for the final stretch to Atyrau.

Late that evening Bauzhan and I took Yolanda to catch the train home from the station. Assam warned us about ruffians who hang around there, so we were quite glad he turned up as well to see Yolanda off. And to help her board the train, as there was no platform and we only had a few minutes to dash along the tracks with her bags in the dark to her carriage!

I was sorry to see her go, as she took the rough with the smooth and we had a tremendous laugh together.

Hell's Angels?

2011-07-28T14:51:00.006+01:00

Wednesday May 11th

A Kazakh Hell's Angel and his moll? No - Yolanda and one of two guys who turned up on a motorbike while we were having a rest on the way to Bayganin. This prompted a photo session with the bike.
The owner of the bike, Assam, turned up again at our campsite in the evening, and we were prevailed upon to hand over 5000 tenge so he could fetch provisions from Bayganin. Just when I was beginning to get concerned that it would be the last we saw of him and our money, he roared back laden with essential supplies of vodka and a Kazakh style takeaway of roast chicken and salads. Cue for a highly convivial and vodka fuelled evening with much recourse to the English/Russian dictionary - the photo shows Assam assiduously studying it, while Bauzhan tucks into the chicken.
We even had a late night visitor on a small horse.....

However the evening turned out to be a little too convivial, as in the vodka fuelled jollity, Bauzhan omitted to stake down the horses, and we discovered they had disappeared into the dark - I just hoped they had not been stolen. Assam roared off on his bike and we could see his headlamp in ever increasing circles on the steppe around us, closely followed by Bauzhan in the truck. As there was nothing we could do, Yolanda and I gave up and retired to our tents.

Morning dawned to reveal no horses, but Bauzhan and Assam snoring in the truck.
Bauzhan was none too happy to be prodded awake from his slumbers, but happily with his eagle eyes he almost immediately saw the horses far away on the horizon and tramped off to fetch them.
It was then that I realised to my horror that when he had driven the truck off to find the horses the previous evening in his rather inebriated state, he had managed to run over one of our precious Free and Easy saddles. Although it showed surprisingly little damage on the face of it, it was definitely flatter than before, and thus unusable. What to do? This meant only one of us could ride. However, Yolanda found out that her daughter had taken ill, and decided to return home on the train from Bayganin, which was only about 10 kms away.

So here I am riding Bolashak and leading Zorbee, while Yolanda opted to walk with me rather than travelling in the truck.

More Photos

2011-07-28T13:35:00.006+01:00

Yolanda and me with a friendly Kazakh lady.
Zorbee and Bolashak grazing in the evening.

A herdsman comes to visit.

Friends.

Yolanda and Bolashak

Choices, choices

2011-07-25T19:32:00.017+01:00

Monday May 9th

On a ride of this nature through largely 'uncharted' territory as far as horse travellers are concerned, it is very difficult to anticipate what we will face on a day by day basis, and I am continually changing plans and routes.

I had hoped to follow a road along the Emba valley towards Kulsari, but when we reached Shubarshi, Bauzhan said that it had been reported to him that the road was badly cut up by heavy lorries and essentially impassable for the back up truck. With great disappointment we started heading north for the 'main' road between Aktobe and Atyrau. However, 1 km further on Bauzhan met us to say he had been told there was a good track along an oil pipeline (it turned out to be the same pipeliine we had followed to Shalkar) running straight across the steppe in the right direction for about 80 kms. So yet another change of plan, and after about an hour scouting around to find the start of the track, we set off across the rolling grassy steppe to a gloriously remote camp spot.

The next morning we were accompanied in silence for several kilometres by an enigmatic local Kazakh on his grey horse, until he lost interest and galloped off over the hill.

As before we were welcomed by the friendly pipeline security guards, who kept an eye on us and promised help if we needed it, although they derived a lot of pleasure teasing Yolanda about the many slavering wolves which they told her abound in this part of the steppe. As I have still not seen a wolf I am beginning wonder if they are a Kazakh invention!

We carried on over the endless steppe for another two days ...

..... until we reached a metalled road (but more potholes than metal as usual!) leading north to Bayganin on the Aktobe - Atyrau road.
Here we had another dilemna - whether to continue along the remote and scenic oil track which purportedly led all the way to Atyrau, or play safe and head for Bayganin on the A340 and railway line. In the end we chose the latter option. Although the oil track was by far the most attractive alternative, I was worried about the availibility of water and supplies en route, and also still had a concern about Bolashak, who was progressing very slowly. If we travelled on the 'main' road, it would be easier to truck him back to Atyrau if there was a problem, and Yolanda would soon be heading home and would need to get to a train station.

Mud, Mud, Not So Glorious Mud.

2011-07-25T16:17:00.012+01:00

Sunday May 7th.
I was a bit annoyed on Thursday evening when Bauzhan had seemingly chosen a camp spot right off the road but had not driven down to guide us in - luckily Yolanda spotted him. However the reason become evident when we rode up -- the truck had a puncture and when Bauzhan tried to change the tyre, the jack had sunk into the soft ground so he was completely stuck. But the Kazakhs are nothing if not ingenious, and it was not long before he had constructed a firm base out of sticks ...

...and the new tyre was in place.

In the meantime we set up camp. But unfortunately the truck had chosen to have a puncture by the only tree for miles - slightly worrying when the sky darkened and a huge thunderstorm appeared - very atmospheric, particularly as an eagle had nested in the tree and was swooping around us.

It was not long before we were engulfed by rain, wind, thunder and lightning. Yolanda's tent was swamped and she had to retire to the leaking truck for a sodden night on a camp bed.

The following morning dawned cold and damp and we set off wetly through cloying mud. A cuckoo was optimistically calling in the tree behind us - surely it was not going to try its luck with the eagle's nest?

The frst ten miles clodhopping through clinging mud were very unpleasant and slow going. But at least we could move, unlike a couple of abandoned oil tankers we came across whose drivers had chanced their arm on the earth tracks beside the potholed gravel road we were following at the time. Not a problem in dry weather, but distinctly unwise after heavy rain.

Photo near Embi

2011-07-25T16:11:00.003+01:00

Zorbee and me on the second day out from Embi riding towards Shubarsi.

Yolanda Joins Us

2011-07-25T15:03:00.006+01:00

Wednesday May 4th

I have been joined by South African mother of two Yolanda for the next couple of weeks. She is riding Bolashak, who seems perkier, although hardly raring to go. Here they are crossing the railway line on the way out of Embi ..

..and setting out across the steppe.

The first night we camped at an idyllic spot by a little lake thronged with birds who kept up a beautiful cacaphony of sound as the sun went down. I am not an expert on the birds of Kazakhstan, but I thought I could hear curlews, larks and hoopoe, as well as the first cuckoo of spring. Unlike China, the Kazakhstan steppe teems with birdlife, including eagles and a funny little plump clockwork like bird which hovers and clicks and has a wide repertoire of calls - Rowena swore she heard it imitating a horse whinnying.

Yolanda has a quick snooze.

A Kazakh Kermit eyeballs Zorbee. Frogs are common along the rivers and can make quite a noise croaking both day and night.

Shalkar to Embi

2011-07-24T17:20:00.020+01:00

Monday May 2nd

After seeing Rowena off on the train on Wednesday evening, we set off the following morning for Embi, leaving Bolashak at Bazargul's to rest. Zorbee and I made faster progress over the next five days, following a (relatively) good road across the steppe and over a low ridge of hills to Embi.

Pointless signs!

Now Rowena has gone, Bauzhan has taken over the role of camp cook. Here he is concocting a tasty evening meal on the day of the Royal wedding, with Zorbee grazing happily in the background. We toasted the happy couple in vodka and orange in the middle of the empty steppe as the sun set over the horizon

The next morning I came across this cheerful truckload of children on a school outing. They were very excited to meet up with a foreign traveller on horseback!

Bauzhan trying to emulate the Statue of Liberty? No - trying to get reception on his mobile phoone, no doubt to chat to one of his many girlfriendsRiding down the other side of the hill ridge towards Embi.

Embi is a small railway town with traditional housing centred round an open square surrounded by little shops and a bazaar. I am staying in a government workers hostel which passes for the local hotel, and have a room with two squeaky beds and an electric point so I can charge up my laptop. My eagerly anticipated shower proved to be another interesting experience. The shower room consisted of a compartment with grubby tiles and two taps/showers which gave off little electric shocks - rather disconcerting when one is naked and wet. I was virtually on hands and knees to get full benefit of the meagre trickle of hot water, and my ablutions were regularly interrupted by the lady janitor who kept popping in to check the water temperature!

However, clean and refreshed, Bauzhan and I strolled over to the chaikhana opposite (door on right with propietoresses in photo) where we had an excellent laghman.

If you are ever in Embi, you could no better than to eat at this little eating house .

Tomorrow Bauzhan is driving back to Shalkar to fetch Bolashak, hopefully suitably refreshed after his little holiday.

Come Camp With Me

2011-07-24T17:02:00.003+01:00

Travelling with Rowena and Bauzhan means that instead of the stale nan bread and elderly sausage I survived on in last autumn, life on the road has been a culinary delight. Once we have foraged for dry sticks, Bauzhan has a camp fire going within minutes while Rowena conjures up delicious feasts in a pan from a few cans and jars.

They would be hot contestants for a camping version of 'Come Dine with me', which of course would necessitate riding or yomping 20 miles before producing a meal.

Tiptoe through ...

2011-07-24T16:27:00.014+01:00

..the tulips are changing as I ride further north, with longer stems and a wider variety of colours, though still smaller and more flared (and prettier) than the ones I am used to at home. Of course the excitement of finding different colours in the monotony of the steppe calls for a proliferation of tulip photos!

These lovely blood red tulips appeared to the north of Shalkar.

Rowena and Bolashak praying to Mecca? No - taking yet more photos of tulips.

Steppe camp among the tulips.

Ill in Shalkar - Vidazorb to the Rescue

2011-06-27T15:08:00.018+01:00

Wednesday April 27th

The last couple of days to Shalkar have been increasingly sandy, but for the last twenty kilometres there was a rocky road through the dunes - slow going but better than sand which would have been tough on the horses and impassable for the truck.

Unfortunately Bolashak has been very off colour, seems depressed, and is going slower and slower - we do not know if he is ill, or not coping with the work load. Rowena was reduced to Shank's pony for the last couple of days - leading him to conserve his energy. As she is taking the train home from Shalkar, we have decided to leave him in Shalkar to rest while I ride on to Embi. Baurzhan can then return to fetch him in the truck.

We have been very fortunate to find a place to keep the horses here with Zhanar's sister Bazargul. Here is Bolashak in his quarters for the next few days with bovine companion. Today Bazargul treated us all to a traditional Kazakh beshbarmak. As the local English teacher, she has been most welcoming.

This was a vast improvement on the shashlik I ate last night at a local restaurant, which resulted in my spending the rest of the evening running back and forth emptying my guts in the long drop loo outside our hotel. However before the effects of the shashlik took hold, the evening was considerably enlivened for me at least by a somewhat inebriated aging lothario who repeatedly visited our table to declare his undying passion for Rowena, who seems to hold a fatal attraction for Kazakh men of mature years. No matter that she protested that she had a husband at home that she loved, we were treated to a graphic mime display to indicate that he would hang himself if she did not hand over her mobile phone number pronto.
This morning I was still feeling queasy, so it did not take much to decide to take a day off rather than set out for Embi. Although considering how ill I felt I have made a surprisingly quick recovery, which I can only put down to the Vidazorb probiotics I have been taking.
We have been staying here in a small hotel which has the luxury of a bathroom. However the pathetic trickle which passes for a shower is alternately scalding hot or freezing cold, and my ablutions were disturbed by banging on the door and the light being switched off. At times like this a bowl in a tent seems almost preferable.

Oil Road

2011-06-14T18:41:00.021+01:00

April 24th . After leaving Aralsk on April 20th, we intended to follow the track along the railway line northwards. However we had a concern about sand covering the route which we had been warned about, particularly nearing the town of Shalkar. Deep sand would merely be tough going for the horses, but could result in the truck becoming stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Arriving at the next town of Saksaul in a dust storm on the second day, Baurzhan got talking to a local lad who told us about an oil pipeline running roughly parallel to the railway with a good earth service track alongside.

So that is what we have been following for the last few days. It has taken us across wild rolling steppe with the occasional low line of hills.

The pipeline is buried so there is nothing to spoil the scenery except the occasional kilometre marker with the distance marked in large characters facing skyward, presumably for the benefit of helicopter patrols.

The track is strictly only open to pipeline officials and local traffic, but Baurzhan soon made firm friends with the pipeline security guards in their patrol jeeps - they were all were most intrigued and eager to help.

At regular intervals we encounter small herds of horses guarded by wiry steppe stallions who invariably gallop over to inspect us, but are usually easily shooed away. We put Bolashak behind Zorbee just in case his male ego gets too much for him.

The situation is reversed when we come across camels, when I am glad Zorbee can hide behind Bolashak.

Baby camels with little coats on!

A typical steppe camp with passing visitor.

There are also occasional flocks of multicoloured sheep and goats grazing the steppe, always with attendant herder - here is herder's horse with three legged hobbles.

Graveyard of Ships

2011-06-08T06:27:00.018+01:00

Tuesday April 19th

Aralsk formerly used to lie on the Aral Sea, the dessication of which is recognised to be one of the world's worst ecological tragedies. The inland sea is fed by the Syr Darya and Amu Darya rivers (the ancient Jaxartes and Oxus) which flow from the south, but Soviet irrigation projects to divert water to grow cotton, particularly in what is now Uzbekistan, meant that by 2007 the sea had shrunk to a tenth of its original size and split into several smaller lakes. The ecosystem of the Aral Sea and its river deltas has nearly been destroyed by increased salinity, and the exposure of salt pans has resulted in dust storms and climate change
The shrinkage of the sea has resulted in the abandonement of fishing vessels above the waterline, and one of the main things Rowena and I wanted to do on reaching Aralsk was to visit the famous ship's graveyard at the former fishing port of Zhalanash. We were able to arrange a trip there through a local Aral development NGO Aral Tenizi, and this morning set off in a 4WD jeep for the 75km drive out over the dried up bed of the Aral Sea. Along for the ride was the very congenial Walter Kelle, a visiting German economist spending 3 weeks with the NGO in an advisory capacity.

Very little is left of the ships - there were originally about eleven, but now there are only the rusting remains of about three, as they have been broken up for scrap metal.

Due to the shrinkage and salinisation of the sea, the fishing industry has been decimated, though more recently an attempt to revive it has resulted in the introduction of salt water flounder - not with great success due to local resistance to eating an unfamiliar fish.

In 2005 a dam project was completed which has contained and raised the level of the North Aral Sea, although not to the extent hoped for as Aralsk is still high and dry. However, salinity levels have decreased and freshwater fish are beginning to repopulate the waters. It is expected that the flounder will disappear. Aral Tenizi is working to encourage new fishing cooperatives, and we visited one on the edge of the new sea.

I was absolutely delighted on return to the hotel when Walter kindly offered my the use of the bathroom in his room - a luxurious suite compared to our rather bleak accomodation - where I was able to partake of a proper shower to set me up for the weeks ahead!

STOP PRESS: INTO EUROPE!

2011-06-08T06:21:00.002+01:00

Stop Press. On Sunday May 22nd 2011, I rode across the bridge over the Ural river in Atyrau and into Europe, and on Monday May 30th I reached the Kazakhstan/Russia border. It has been difficult to update my blog from Kazakhstan due to restrictions on Blogger and limited internet access, but I will be attempting to do so over the next couple of weeks, so watch this space!

Arrival in Aralsk

2011-05-03T16:06:00.009+01:00

Monday 18th April

We have lost our outrider come photographer, as John sadly had to leave us last Thursday to catch the train back to commitments in Atyrau. Rowena and I have been plodding on through the sand, although thankfully the weather has turned cooler again. Rowena is constantly spying all sorts of fascinating wildlife which passes by her blind old aunt unseen. Tally so far :
Foxes – Rowena 1, aged blind aunt 0
Hares – Rowena 6, aged blind aunt 0
Though I am ignoring the herds of wildebeest and gazelle sweeping across the steppes she is now claiming to see.
Yesterday we came across an unexpected bonus after a tiring day’s ride – a café!
It did not take much for the delightful lady proprietor Jana and her sidekick Zhena to persuade us to sleepover. Here are Rowena and Bauzhan tucking into a Kazakh version of chicken and chips while Jana pours the milk tea. This room was also our bedroom for the night.
The horses in the meantime were accommodated in a corral next to the camels – a quick dose of camel aversion therapy for Zorbee who is still very suspicious of them. A pleasant morning ride through sand dunes on what would have been the shores of the Aral Sea brought us to Aralsk, a former fishing town now several miles from its source of fish.
Rowena rides in past the old harbour which has no outlet.
We are having a day’s rest here at Aralsk Towers, or rather the Aral Hotel, a bleak Soviet block run by the a couple of fierce and unfriendly sisters Grimm, aided by their kitchen accomplice – a grumbling old crone who feigns severe deafness in the presence of foreigners. I had been particularly looking forward to a shower as the chances of getting one in the next month are slim. So it was rather disappointing to find our shower is in fact a meagre trickle of hot water from the tap in the cramped bath. So it is back to the basin. But at least the water is hot, unlike in the first room we were offered.

Who Dunnit?

2011-04-28T11:59:00.001+01:00

Saturday 16^th April

Riding through the sand dunes, we came across this unusual track, and found the culprit soon after. Who or what dunnit? Answer in June when I am back in the UK.

Bad Hair Day Steppe Style

2011-04-28T11:56:00.003+01:00

Friday 15^th April

We have been struggling through sandy desert riddled with ground squirrel burrows which the horses flounder through. The air is filled with dust, and today we fought against a gritty headwind. With our water reserves being a very precious commodity, basin baths are a norm and hair washing a distant memory, so our hair has achieved a sort of specialised desert lacquering from being stiff with dust. It does not do much for one’s skin either. Roll on Aralsk and a proper shower!

Rowena rides across the desert

A pointless sign.

Tulips from Amsterdam?

2011-04-28T11:54:00.015+01:00

Thursday 14th April

Or Kazakhstan? Which is where In fact tulips originated from. Spring is the season when they dot the steppe for a short time, though here in the desert steppe they are very different from cultivated tulips, being small, close to the ground and predominantly bright yellow with a black centre.They provide a welcome splash of colour and interest in the otherwise featureless, colourless and endless steppe, as do the wild irises which grow in splendid blue bunches.Spotting tulips has sadly become one of the few highlights of our days, and a pastime which seems to engender an inordinate amount of excitement. One of the only other attractions breaking up the endless monotony of the steppe is the very occasional chaikhana or eating house –they are so rare that Baurzhan is under pain of death to stop any time he comes across one, unless it is under 5kms from our camp site! Here are a tired John and I in a typical example with a couple of Shymkent beers while we wait for our laghmans. John is actually following or more often preceding us on his bike, which accounts for the garish outfit in Kazakhstan colours.

Cheers to Gagarin

2011-04-28T11:50:00.005+01:00

Wednesday 13^th April
Yesterday we rode past the Russian space launch station at Baikonur, by amazing coincidence on the 50^th anniversary of Yuri Gagarin’s first manned space flight, which took off from the launch pad there at nine o’clock on the morning of April 12^th 1961! There were official celebrations at Baikonur, but as it costs about $800 to visit the cosmodrome not to mention the 40 days to organise the relevant documentation, they sadly had to miss out on our presence.

The area is now leased by Russia from Kazakhstan, but as the main G3 road artery cuts through between the town and the space launch facilities, it is easy to see from the road. So here we are at nine o’clock on April 12^th 2011, exactly fifty years to the minute after the historic launch, symbolically toasting Yuri in ‘Heaven’ vodka, with the Baikonur cosmodrome behind us! Incredible to think that Vostok 1 was streaking into the sky across the same background fifty years ago, although of course we would never have been allowed within a hundred miles then!

Riding over the brow of a hill today I was rather taken aback to see what appeared to be a group of semi naked men in their underpants milling about on the road beside a battered coach. It was with some trepidation that I continued plodding towards them, sizing up my rather limited chances of a speedy escape on Zorbee as three of these strange creatures approached excitedly. However their intentions proved to be nothing more sinister than a request for a photo.

And it turned out that they were a group of Russian marathon runners from Karaganda running a Super Marathon Relay from Baikonur to Moscow in celebration of the Gagarin launch! The mutual delight when we discovered we were all involved in our own marathons resulted in a general photofest.!

They are expecting to take about three months to reach Moscow, and our best wishes go with this friendly and enthusiastic bunch!

Korkut Ata the Kobyz King

2011-04-28T11:46:00.004+01:00

Sunday 10^th April

Just to the north of Dzhusaly is a monument and museum complex dedicated to Korkut Ata, a legendary figure credited with inventing the kobyz, a traditional bowl-shaped Kazakh stringed musical instrument played with a bow. The complex is sited near the spot on the banks of the Syr Darya where Korkut Ata is said to have been buried – yet another local figure to expire after being bitten by the dreaded Kazakh snake. As it was on our route it necessitated a visit – the photo below shows Rowena and John by the monument which is sculpted in the form of four kobyzes surrounding an aeolian harp (a series of tubes which sound naturally in the wind) at its centre. Behind is the wide valley of the Syr Darya. The little pimple in the distance is a monument to the sole survivor of 40 maidens who tried to cross the desert steppe to hear Korkut Ata play. Rowena rather caustically observed that if you are dull enough to try and tramp across the desert just to hear an old man play on a fiddle, you probably got was what was coming to you. The maiden who made it had shown enough foresight to equip herself with a goat to provide milk en route.

To one side is the Pyramid of Wishes – one must make one’s wish in the central chamber after walking round the pyramid three times. Here is Rowena emerging, claiming she wished for a shower!

The speckled top to the walls is apparently to represent the snake that delivered the fatal bite. As borne out by the apparently high death rate from snake bite among local figures, snakes are quite common in Kazakhstan – below is one which I nearly rode over as it looked just like a twig –

The other creatures one has to watch out for in the desert steppe are scorpions. For two mornings running, Rowena found one under her tent, and John found four of them under his one morning. I am now taking a bit more care about bringing my boots right into my tent at night.

On the Move

2011-04-27T10:57:00.005+01:00

Saturday 9^th April

We have reached Dzusaly on the Syr Darya after four days riding. The horses have chummed up very well, although the downside is that Zorbee is sometimes a little too attached to Bolashak. We had a bit of drama at the start of the second day when I started leading him away from camp - he evidently panicked that he was being removed from his new found friend and managed to break away from me and gallop off across the steppe. However one of our friendly Kazakh hosts soon rounded him up on his horse.

Our first night’s camp with curious Kazakh hosts who let us put the horses in their corral overnight.

Zorbee and I provided yet more entertainment the following day when we had an impromptu ducking in a pond we were watering the horses at – Zorbee misjudged the depth and marched in before I could stop him – any excuse to cool down on a hot day!. Luckily my camera and mobile phone were in the front saddle bags which escaped a soaking.

A word about Bolashak, as he is not the little Kazakh pony Rowena originally bought, but a large lean black (well, dark brown) stallion that she acquired to replace the pony when he become ill. He may sound very dashing, but in fact he is so laid back he is almost horizontal, even carrying on eating in a totally unconcerned fashion when his rug blew off over his head. Rowena describes him as an equine Tim Nice But Dim.

We have heard wolves every night so far!

Crosssing the Kara Uzek river

Rowena and Bolashak near Dzhusaly

Tomorrow is another day.

2011-04-05T19:15:00.012+01:00

As this is Kazakhstan it was almost inevitable that there would be some unforseen delay, and this morning our driver Baurzhan failed to turn up for the planned 9 a.m meeting with Zhanar, a wonderful Kazakh interpreter lent to us by Sandy Moir to help thrash out some last minute hassles re pay and conditions. Together with the farrier Sandy had sourced for us, we were all kept waiting around until he eventually rolled up after a couple of hours to face a firm maternal ticking off from Zhanar. As by now time was running on we decided to leave our departure until tomorrow. Below is Baurzhan's truck which will be carrying hay, feed and water for the horses as well as all our kit. From left to right: the farrier, John, Zhanar, and a rather sheepish Baurzhan. The truck can also transport horses, and Baurzhan drove Bolashak out to Terenozek to meet up with his new travelling companion Zorbee. This was an occasion punctured by much squealing and rearing, but as they are in neighbouring pens overnight, hopefully they will have reached an amicable agreement by morning. The two horses have also had their feet trimmed and shoes put on the front. As I had asked for Zorbee's shoes to be pulled off when I reached Terenozek five months ago , it was slightly to my surprise that he still had them on, but he is in good nick if in desperate need of a thorough grooming.

Clothesless in Kyzlorda

2011-04-04T18:43:00.008+01:00

We are now safely in Kyzlorda but unsurprisingly not without incident. Rowena in fact beat us to it and arrived on Sunday afternoon - but it took her several hours to negotiate getting Bolashak off the train as extra unplanned charges (for carriage cleaning, staying in siding etc) kept appearing out of nowhere. Our driver Baurzhan has sorted out a stable in Kyzlorda for Bolashak until we leave for Terenozek tomorrow. John and I arrived a few hours later in the evening after a pleasant train journey in spite of the tropical heating in the carriage - though this made the consumption of a number of bottles of beer almost a neccessity. However in the scramble to unload all our baggage off the train at Kyzlorda amid a scrum of people and carry it across a dark car park to our waiting truck, somehow the bag containing all my clothes went missing presumed stolen. This left me with just the clothes I was standing up in, and necessitated an emergency shopping campaign today. Kyzlorda is hardly the retail capital of the world, but a trawl around the depths of the Old Bazaar resulted in a somewhat eclectic new wardrobe. So instead of jodphurs and hi tech fleece, I am equipped to saunter across the steppe wearing such items as the glittery little spiderwoman outfit below. At least my riding helmet and boots are still with me, though I was bit miffed to lose the box of chocolates my children had given me for Mother's Day.

Arrival in Atyrau

2011-04-02T13:13:00.012+01:00

I have arrived in Atyrau and am currently staying in Rowena and Matt's lovely house on the European bankside of the river Ural.

Yesterday we loaded Rowena and Bolashak the horse, together with most of our kit, into a cattle truck to make the three day journey by personal train across the frozen steppes to Kyzlorda. Bolashak and and his supply of hay and feed is at one end of the carriage, Rowena is camping at the other end with the baggage. Before anyone asks, she has taken a generous supply of plastic bags. Here are the intrepid rail travellers settling into their rather spartan quarters prior to departure. Rowena phoned in on her mobile this morning to confirm she had survived the first night alone in the wagon (apart from the horse) in sub zero temperatures - but at least she has our entire stock of sleeping bags to fall back on. I am following on this evening in considerably more style in a first class train compartment, accompanied by American photographer John Smallwood who will be joining us for a couple of weeks.

I am hoping we can make a start on Tuesday, but it depends on a number of factors including when Rowena arrives in Kyzlorda. As we have not yet tracked down a reliable farrier, and Rowena has not been able to get hold of horseshoes for Bolashak, we may ride the next leg without horseshoes. In any case last year I found that Zorbee's shoes had minimal if any wear once I was riding across the steppe. But both Bolashak and Zorbee will have a hoof trim before we set off.

Ffrwdfal Country House B&B

2011-03-26T20:35:00.020Z

With the children having flown the nest, and me away riding through Central Asia for months at a time, husband Iestyn has been rattling around in our large house by himself for much of the time. This prompted us to go ahead with the bed and breakfast business I had always planned for the property when we bought it about ten years ago. Unfortunately we have been cursed by recurrent episodes of dry rot which have held matters up. However, last year we (or rather Iestyn) got things off the ground, and we have been open for business since early last summer. There are three guest bedrooms, all with en suite facilities and lovely views over fields or the garden. Although things can be a little 'Fawlty Towers' on occasion (viz the guest who fell through the bed, and the long suffering couple who spent an hour waiting outside on arrival as Iestyn had fallen asleep!) we have been getting excellent reviews. The house is in a very quiet peaceful location at the middle of our 120 acre farm, which runs down to the river Cothi where we have fishing rights. Iestyn produces historic breakfasts using local produce including eggs from our hens and honey from our bees. Here are our three guest rooms:

The Bee room. The bed has been especially hand painted by my very talented friend Sally. The room has superb views down the Cothi valley over the parkland where I usually keep my mares with foals at foot.

The Flower room. The lovely old Victorian bed is the one that collapsed, but you may be glad to hear that this little teething problem has been sorted out with help from our top notch carpenter neighbour Dai!

The Garden Room. The bedspread is an antique Welsh quilt from Jen Jones, http://www.jen-jones.com/ who restores and sells Welsh quilts and lives locally.

We are on our own spring water supply, so although the plumbing can be a little quirky, you will be showering in pure spring water and could drink the from the cistern if you really felt so inclined!

For more details and photos, and bookings if you fancy a stay in the heart of Wild Wales, see our website http://www.ffrwdfal.co.uk/ And here are the very cheerful looking proprietors. Rather strangely, whoever sorted out the 'About Us' page on our website omitted to include a photo of 'Us' but instead featured a large photo of our dog! So today I press-ganged Dai's wife, the marvellous Marina who is also our head housekeeper extraordinaire, to take this photo of myself and Iestyn, the latter resplendent in his pink sorry cerise shirt.

Not Only But Also - video clips

2011-03-21T12:27:00.002Z

In case you are not aware, I have sporadically been posting more video clips of the ride -
Not Only on my Facebook page for The Long Horse Ride Group which you all very welcome to join at http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=100069313746
But Also on my Youtube account at http://www.youtube.com/user/megancwrtycadno

Here is a little taster. If you find it slightly monotonous, consider that I will soon be riding across the steppe like this, eight hours a day for the next two months. Thank goodness Rowena will be with me for the first month to relieve the tedium with her sparkling conversation and rapier wit.

This is all assuming I actually get to Kazakhstan next week as surpise surprise I am having problems getting my visa due to a considerable delay with the letter of invitation I need for a three month visa - I was initially told it would take five days, and it is now three weeks later. On top of this, without website warning, the Kazakhstan consulate is apparently closed for three days. In Kazakhstan nothing is ever straightforward for ordinary mortals - I am certain Goga's royal buddies do not have these hassles. Rowena has e-mailed to say that she is practising her yoga breathing all the time in preparation for the next stage.

Rihanna S&M cover - Iona Thomas

2011-03-21T12:23:00.000Z

The BOLASHAK Pony

2011-03-08T17:27:00.024Z

I am delighted to report that the Kazakhstan based personel company BOLASHAK http://www.bolashak.com/ have generously agreed to sponsor a second horse in Kazakhstan to join Zorbee. We are very much indebted to them for their support, and the horse (or rather pony in this case) will be named Bolashak in honour of the company. Zorbee is of course sponsored by the wonderful probiotics company VIDAZORB. http://www.vidazorb.com/

Rowena has already purchased a suitable candidate for the new Bolashak, already nicknamed Bolly. Perhaps he will merit the cracking open of a bottle of the other type of Bolly when we officially cross into Europe over the Ural river in Atyrau. He is seen above in sub zero training for the rigours ahead with boy groom. He may not be the most beauteous of equines, but handsome is as handsome does, and as long as he is tough, goodnatured and can walk westwards, who cares!

I notice from the photo that he is already sporting one of the saddles provided by our other main sponsors Free and Easy saddles http://www.fnesaddles.com/.

Over the last few months we have experienced a lot of trouble sorting out registration problems with my Lada. This was due to the fact that foreigners are not in fact permitted to own Kazakhstan registered cars, and 'ownership' only involves the legal right to use and sell a vehicle. The registered owners who 'sold' the Lada had unbeknown to me (as my Russian is limited) asked the lawyer to include an extra clause apparently to protect them from any problems arising while I was in possession of the car. However this also seriously effected my legal rights to the vehicle and created considerable problems, particularly as the registered owners were subsequently extremely obstructive about altering the paperwork. Happily, thanks to the sterling efforts of Shaun Weaver and Ed in Atyrau, to whom I am eternally grateful, it has all been sorted at last, and we are now in a position to trade the Lada in for a more suitable 4WD truck to tackle the Hunger steppe of Kazakhstan.

I have booked my flight from Amsterdam to Atyrau for March 30th. I plan to travel round to Kyzlorda in the truck while Rowena accompanies Bolashak on the train - we felt it might be a bit of a strain for him to endure 4-5 days journey by truck over rough roads. We hope to start riding sometime in the the first week of April, all being well!

Ions - the Missing Link

2011-03-03T11:28:00.011Z

Daughter Iona has at last sent us the link to her rendition of Yellow by Coldplay on Youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbjRUtVEqKA

And now also singing Use Somebody

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeGTkAKO5ZE&feature=related

Her Starnow page http://www.starnow.co.uk/ionathomas

STOP PRESS: Iona's Youtube Page

http://www.youtube.com/ionathomas88

Please support her by clicking the Like button!

Schoolchildren for Children - The Video!

2011-02-28T17:19:00.009Z

It must always be remembered that one of the main reasons for the Long Horse Ride is to raise money for disadvantaged children via the charity Schoolchildren for Children.http://www.schoolchildrenforchildren.org/
It is now possible to view a video about the aims and achievements of the charity on Youtube. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtxrUKt1558

If you have enjoyed this blog, and/or been moved by the issues and heartrending stories depicted in the video, please support the ride and this very worthy cause by donating to my page at http://www.justgiving.com/meganlonghorseride

ALL monies raised by the ride go directly to the projects supported as all administration costs are covered by separate sponsorship, so please give generously.

Goodbye Tiger, Hello Rabbit.

2011-02-28T11:28:00.020Z

Chinese New Year has come and gone, as has the end of 2010, and hopefully the Year of the Rabbit 2011 will hop along without too many traumas.

The children celebrated our New Year with a fancy dress party - theme 'Around the World' - which gave me an excuse to dig out various items of clothing I acquired while on the North West Frontier (if you want to see photos of this 2006 trip, see http://www.cwrtycadno.com/mypics.htm towards the bottom of the page)

Iestyn and me in sartorial splendour as Afghan mujahideen and spouse - the latter apparently held at gunpoint in his harem. Fortunately we live in a more enlightened society in Wales, so here we are again in more relaxed mode.

We were all issued with passports which were checked at the door by airline stewardess Gwenny before a fun packed evening of quizzes, tequila shots, bonfires and singing round the piano.

Shay and our sheep dog Dyfi carousing the night away with a couple of bottles of champers - Dyfi looks decidedly the worse for wear.

Guess the country -

There might be a clue here - And of course it all followed a White Christmas

which meant an obigatory sledging session after Christmas dinner -

A novel way for brothers in law to bond - Iestyn and Russell in full? flight Dyfi equipped for the ski slopes, but doubting if dogs are really meant to do this.

Poppy fields in the Land of Oz

2011-02-11T14:58:00.019Z

Still way behind with my blog posts! My latest excuse is that I have been waiting in vain for requested photos of the Supreme Championship at the Victoria All Welsh show. These were taken during my judging trip to Australia at the beginning of December. I had a busy three days at the show judging a wide variety of ponies and cobs both in hand and ridden, before visiting the famous Nawarrah Park and Weston Park studs where I saw some wonderful cobs and ponies - here I am with Janet Evans at Weston Park.
The next few days were spent with friends Chris and Janet Murphy on their Welsh pony stud in lovely country near Canberra. http://keyiwelshponies.com/. They own the young colt Pontsteffan Simwnt, by our stallion Cwrtycadno Cymro - he flew out to Australia in 2009, and has just produced his first foal to everyone's excitement - here is said foal with proud father looking on. The following weekend I flew over to judge at the Tasmania Welsh show. As my co judge Kathy Sheil of the Dukeshill stud had unfortunately fallen ill at the last moment, I ended up judging all the classes which made for a challenging day. I was very taken by Tasmania and a bit sad that I had had to cut short my trip - fortuitously as it turned out, as I just missed the Heathrow closures caused by snow! I had a most enjoyable and relaxing stay with Welsh pony breeder Tina Taylor of the Nattai River stud http://www.nattairiver.com/ and her husband David, who runs a large sheep station near Campbelltown. Tina's grandfather and mother were responsible for early imports of Welsh ponies to Australia. Here are Tina and David in front of their delightful home which is set in the middle of a beautiful garden. Some farmland is given over to the remunerative crop shown below

If you don't recognise it, it is opium, which they produce under licence for medicinal purposes, e.g. for codeine!

I was also delighted to receive my second Australian sponsorship from Welsh cob enthusiast Sabina, who has provided me with an Acu-light http://www.acu-light.com.au/ . This heals injury and relieves pain by applying laser light to acupoints in both humans and horses. I am sure it will be an invaluable resource in the months to come.
Here are Janet (left) and Sabina (right) at Gundegai in front of the monument to the Dog on the Tucker Box which we passed en route to Janet's home.

I was very chuffed to visit it, as the last time I did was when my family spent some time driving round Australia nearly 50 years ago after my father retired from the Malaysian Education Service. In those days it was stuck by itself at the side of the road, whereas now it is surrounded by gardens and merits a visitors centre. If you want to know the story of the Dog click here.

Braving the potholes

2010-12-29T12:17:00.022Z

It is some time since I wrote on my blog, and I will attempt to bring it up to date!
After reaching Kyzlorda at the end of October, and settling Zorbee in his winter home, I drove to Atyrau to catch my flight home. This was about another 1000miles/3 days drive, and I was very glad to have the company of cousin Rowena, who lives in Atyrau but came down on the train to join up with me.
The first part of the drive was along the new M3 to Aktobe, which is part of the planned trans Asia expressway system - as you can see, it is pretty whizzy - but unfortunately stretches like this do not last for long .......

....and it is soon back to the earth tracks running parallel to the road under construction.

It gradually became clear that the jeep was suffering some sort of radiator problem, but we fortuitously came across a water truck which enabled us to replenish the water. The truck driver is evidently most amused by our antics - the Kazakhs are used to expatriot oil men roaring past in brand new BMW or Suzuki 4x4s, and found the concept of two unaccompanied foreign ladies of a certain age tootling across the steppe in a clapped out Lada eccentric to say the least.

We plugged on for another couple of hundred miles to the next small one horse town in the middle of nowhere, where we managed to track down a back street garage. The mechanics below sorted out the problem while we resisted offers of betrothal to the one eyed Romeo on the right - they did not seem too concerned that we already had husbands. But he made an impressive job of personally blowing out the air lock which was causing the trouble.

On the third day we followed the A340 from the bright lights of modern Aktobe to the bustling oil city of Atyrau. One would imagine that there would be a fast and well maintained expressway linking two such major Kazakhstan urban centres, but we were soon to discover otherwise. For over 200 miles we were unable to drive faster than 20mph, the reasons being obvious if you look at the photos below. The potholes could easily swallow a small juggernaut and it was a toss up whether to drive around or through them. You may be wondering why the Lada lights are on - in Kazakhstan it is illegal to drive outside towns without headlights even during the day. Not such a bad idea when you see the speed at which traffic travels along narrow and bumpy roads. Not that there was much traffic here.

The alternative (if it is not during the thaw) is to drive along the maze of earth tracks at the side.

A desolate view looking west along the A340 to Atyrau as dusk starts to fall. With the Lada playing up and the night temperatures below freezing, it was not an occasion when one wanted to break down, but at least we were equipped with tents and sleeping bags if the worst had come to the worst.

1000 miles across Kazakhstan

2010-11-15T01:51:00.016Z

I am woefully behind with my posts due to one thing and another, so the first thing to say is that on Monday October 11th, in spite of all my earlier setbacks, I successfully reached my 2010 aim of Kyzlorda. The following day I rode Zorbee on to his winter quarters at Terenozek, 50 kms further along my route. This not only means I have ridden 1000 miles from the Chinese border, but it puts me about halfway across Kazakhstan and nearly halfway to London!
Being Kazakhstan, I suppose it was inevitable that we would not finish without a parting setback, and so it proved. Bakhram had not realised his registration papers were out of date, and he was detained and served with a deportation order by the immigration police. He spent a miserable night locked up in a detention room with a variety of offenders, and was only let out late the following evening after his court appearance. It was not so much of a problem for me as it was the penultimate day of riding and the wonderful Sandy Moir, who is the British embassy 'warden' for the Kyzlorda area, came to my rescue, sorting out overnight accomodation for Zorbee outside Kyzlorda and fetching me in his car.
However it was not such good news for Bakhram as it means he will not be allowed back into Kazakhstan for 5 years. This is what a Kazakhstan deportation stamp looks like ....

Sandy also provided me with a fantastic flat with all mod cons, although after over a week on the road it was the hot shower which was my priority! Here we are in the kitchen...

The last week's riding across the flat steppe was somewhat monotonous and I went through my whole limited repertoire of songs including nursery rhymes ...

though occasionally there was a subtle change of scenery ....

The big excitement was seeing the great Syr Darya or Jaxartes for the first time. Here is Zorbee perusing it from a bridge over an irrigation watercourse leading off the main river. Pony Club children please note this is a demonstration of how NOT to tie up a horse. Zorbee is wintering with Ahmed Davletpayeva, the parent of one of Sandy's Kazakh interpreters - here I am with Ahmed and his wife outside their typical Kazakh house at Terenozek. You may just be able to see Zorbee in a pen at the back of the yard behind us.

Donkey Work

2010-10-16T11:34:00.007+01:00

I often dismount and lead Zorbee to give both of us a change and a rest. In Asia people can never comprehend why one would possibly want to walk on foot when one has a perfectly good horse to ride, and as a result I often get strange looks - although of course this may be for other reasons!

For my part I can never understand how very large men can possibly be comfortable riding on very small donkeys, when they are in possession of perfectly good legs which nearly reach the ground in any case - and if they have a donkey they will not walk even a step.

Above - herdsman Talgat who invited me to join him for chai near Shayan.

As in many other parts of the world, donkeys are expected to work like, well, donkeys. The photo above gives a new meaning to the phrase 'Ride and Drive' and is a fairly common sight though usually not with such a lump on board.

Surely it would be easier just to pull the cart oneself?

This self possessed little boy was better suited to his mount than some ofthe examples above. He must have only been about 6 years old, but armed with plastic bag on stick, he was in sole charge of a large flock of about 200 sheep and goats.

Seeing Sauran

2010-10-15T14:29:00.007+01:00

Tuesday 5th October

On our day off in Turkestan I was eager to visit the ancient ruined oasis city of Otrar, which lies about 50 miles to the south. In 1217 it was the somewhat ill considered decision of its governor Inalchuk to arrest merchants sent by Genghis Khan on spying charges, the situation being exacerbated when they were subsequently put to death - not good thinking. This suidical action precipitated Genghis Khan's swift conquest of the lands of the Korezmshahs which included this southern area of present day Kazakhstan - Inalchuk was executed and Otrar razed to the ground. Having recovered from this setback, it later achieved notoriety as the place where Timur died of fever.
But unfortunately due to our other activities we did not have time to make the 100 mile round trip there.

So after a day's riding across the flat desert steppe land of the Syr Darya valley it was a great excitement to see the crumbling walls of the old Silk Road city of Sauran rising up in the distance. Sauran escaped the fate of Otrar by wisely surrendering to the forces of Genghis Khan without resistance. At one point it was the largest city in the area that is now Kazakhstan, but with the rising prominence of Turkestan it was virtually abandoned by the 18th century.

It is now crawling with archaeologists excavating and developing the site. Restoration includes the controversial method of using new materials for partial reconstruction, as you can clearly see with these steps up to a madrassah at the centre of the site.

Apart from the madrassah, they are currently working on the remains of a mosque, which can be seen in the middle distance in the photo below. The city walls are on the horizon.

The workforce are a cheerful and friendly bunch and even invited me to join them for lunch. One of them is perusing a copy of my consulate letter on the right - I find it indispensable for quickly explaining who I am and what I am up to!

Turkestan Break

2010-10-14T16:32:00.009+01:00

Sunday 3rd October

We are now following the valley of the Syr Darya, or ancient Jaxartes river, and have reached the Silk Road town of Turkestan. En route I discovered the culprit below skulking behind the treeline bordering the road - cotton!
It was the diversion of water from the Syr Darya and Amu Darya (Oxus river) to irrigate the deserts of Central Asia for cotton production such as this which resulted in the tragic dessication of the Aral Sea, which is fed by these two great rivers. By 2004 the Aral Sea had shrunk to about a quarter of its original size. But more about the Aral Sea when we reach it next year.

An enormous pile of 'white gold'.

This productive irrigated area also grows other crops such as melons and tomatoes - here is a novel use of an old bus as a roadside melon shop.

Having found a local family on the edge of Turkestan to look after Zorbee for a couple of nights, we are staying at the Yassi hotel, which is clean and comfortable, but with the usual Kazakhstan quirks such as hot water only after 8pm. The restaurant served 100 year old cow and there was no milk for the tea. But it is conveniently directly opposite the major Turkestan attraction and important Muslim pilgrimage site of the Timurid Kodja Ahmed Yassuai mausoleum, and we were able to stroll over there after a milkless breakfast tea this morning.

You can get an impression of the size of the mausoleum by the size of the figures - the tiny blue thing to the left of the archway is me. Behind the huge facade is a stunning blue-tiled dome which cannot be seen in the photo.

The mausoleum was commissioned by Timur - sometimes better known to us as Tamerlane - in memory of 12th century Sufi mystic Ahmed Yassuai.

Food Glorious Food

2010-10-03T13:17:00.012+01:00

Wednesday 29th September

As well as pot noodles, our diet while camping has largely consisted of sausage and increasingly stale nan bread. This has occasionally been relieved by a visit to an all too rare roadside eating establishment, and on crossing the Karatau mountains and reaching relative civilisation, we were looking forward to the possibility of a decent meal. Thus it was with a sense of eager anticipation that we arrived at the wild west town of Cheyenne, or Shayan in its Kazakh incarnation, which boasted this imposing gateway as evidence of its supposed status.

In China any self-respecting town of this size would contain at least several dozen well patronised eating places. So Bakhram bounced off happily to scout for one, but returned to report woefully that he had only found one cafe and it had run out of food. That is Kazakhstan for you. Heigh ho. So it was back to the local shop to stock up on sausage and bread again - although at least the bread was fresh.
However after several hours riding across the steppe the following day ......

.......we were rewarded when we reached the main Shymkent-Turkestan road to find this delightful little restaurant, where Zorbee polished off half a bale of hay while we tucked into shashlik and laghman, with a pile of nan and a big pot of milky tea.

My husband enjoys his meals, and is continually pestering me as to what the food is like in Kazakhstan, so for his benefit and yours, here is a very brief pictorial guide to the main elements of Kazakh cuisine.

Laghman is a dish of spicy meat and vegetables served on a bed of noodles. You cannot see the noodles under the topping in the photo above, which also shows the plate of bread and teapot of milky tea which is commonly served with meals.

Shashlik - barbecued meat on skewers.

Manti - steamed dumplings filled with spiced lamb or beef, rather like large ravioli. Pelmeni are a smaller version like Chinese steamed dumplings.

Plov - a rice based dish cooked with meat, carrot and onion. It may also contain raisins.

This is plov being cooked up on a street brazier.

Krossing the Karatau

2010-10-02T15:23:00.008+01:00

Tuesday 28th September

After leaving Taraz on Friday, we worked our way along the northern side of the Karatau range to the small town of Karatau, where we struck westwards across the mountains towards the Syr Darya river valley. Along the road to Karatau it was always possible to ride over the steppe land at the side.

It transpired that the road I had originally planned to take no longer existed, but with the help of local advice, including herdsmen en route, we were able to follow a rough and remote track all the way over the range. The snowy peaks of the Zailisky mountains came into view again, but so far in the distance that they do not show up on the photo below. But I promise they are there! The blackened 'Mordor' like appearance of the hills is due to burning off dry grasses, presumably to promote fresh growth.

The only people we met were a small group of amiable herdspeople tending a large flock of sheep and goats on the high pastures. To my surprise they turned out to be Kurdish. Here are the 'boys' looking immensely pleased with themselves at having persuaded me to immortalise them in pixels, while the missus looks on resignedly.

She had every reason to look a trifle fed up a few minutes later when another member of the clan turned up with one of their sheep slung over the saddle - its throat torn out by a wolf.

An uneasy reminder of the presence of wolves in these parts, though Bakhram assures me they will not attack a horse with a person. And we had a peaceful lupineless night at this secluded spot high in the hills.

Snakebite

2010-09-30T15:42:00.008+01:00

Thursday 23rd September.

I have reached Taraz, having covered five hundred miles across Kazakhstan. We are all enjoying a day off, Zorbee in a cowshed on the edge of town, Bakhram and I at the Taraz hotel where we can avail ourselves of a hot shower and wash all our smelly clothes, though in the tradition of all rundown ex Soviet hotels, the bathroom does not have plug, cistern cover or loo paper.
The riding over the last few days has been quite scenic with the reappearance of the snow-capped Zailisky mountains to the south. We will soon be leaving the Tian Shan and its outlying spurs for good, so here is a final reminder .

A beautiful morning

By the Zailisky mountains
Flying mountain top - it is above the first layer of cloud.

On Tuesday we took the back road to the peaceful and little-visited ruin of Akyrtas, although as the site is being developed with a museum and hotel, that may not hold true for much longer. It is still a mystery exactly what these ancient ruins are - possibly a caravanserai or Nestorian monastery - the archaeologists are still researching and debating. As it appears to have been abandoned before building was complete, it holds few clues to its real purpose. Here I am with one of the retainers who was most surprised to have a visitor on horseback bound for London, and even took a photo of me.
No visit to Taraz is complete without a visit to the Aisha Bibi Mausoleum, which stands as a salutary warning against the dangers of snakebite. This lovely mausoleum set among red rose bushes was erected by Shakhmahmud, Governor of Taraz, for his lover Aisha, who ran away to join him but was tragically bitten by a snake en route and died at this spot.
I have in fact seen three snakes of various sizes since I have been in Kazakhstan, but happily they have all been focused on a rapid exit stage left.

Transiting the Zone.

2010-09-28T11:59:00.010+01:00

Friday 17th September

For 21 kms, the main Almaty to Shymkent road actually runs along the Kazkahstan/Kyrgyzstan border. In the past this has presented no great problem, but since the troubles in Kyrgyzstan this year, the Kazakhstani powers that be have thought fit to erect a huge fence of coiled barbed wire along the boundary. This would be OK except it is on the Kazakhstan side of the road, so that if you are travelling along this section of road you are effectively trapped on the Kyrgyzstan side. And they have designated it a no-stopping ‘transit zone’.

Again OK if you are in a car, but a little more complicated if you are on four legged transport and find yourself in the zone with dark falling.

This situation was partly caused by the fact that I was stopped and interrogated by every eager little Kazakhstan soldier who popped up at regular intervals along the border (are they seriously expecting a Kyrgyz invasion?) and held up for over half an hour at a watch tower. This was while traffic sped past unmolested. But I suppose I have to accept that until the invasion occurs they must lead a rather uneventful life and I am the best entertainment they have had in weeks.
In such circumstances it was inevitable that we ended up camping in the transit zone and ignoring military requests for us to move on. The last time I read by torchlight under the covers it was not to avoid the attentions of the Kazakhstan army!

We are now ensconced in a field of akfalfa near Merke, courtesy of Ukrainian bee keeper Anatoly, who also kept an eye on Zorbee while Bakhram and I went off to purchase much needed victuals and a bottle of vodka to share with our host before he joined us for a bonnet buffet.

Here is one of the big ‘bee wagons’ which can house thousands of bees in the stacked bee boxes which make up the sides. This one was surrounded by a throng of little birds swooping around a making a meal of bees - very pretty pale-coloured things, but not so popular with the beekeepers. I don’t know what they were, but they were called something like ‘schuur’ in Russian. Anyone know?

The beekeepers sell the honey in large pots at the side of the road.

Watching Over Us

2010-09-27T11:40:00.005+01:00

Wednesday 15th September

Someone must be watching over us, as when the Lada broke down on Sunday, it was within a hundred yards of one of the few garages for miles around, and thankfully not negotiating the very rough and isolated track through the rugged mountains.
Added to which it snowed in the mountains only the day after we came down. Broken down and snowed in in the middle of nowhere would have made continuing somewhat difficult if not impossible. So I was surprisingly cheerful about the afternoon delay while the mechanics sorted the problem out.

We have also warranted a police escort for a couple of days, as the Kordai district Tourism office were concerned about ‘bad people‘ along the road. Here is a stout member of our police retinue guarding Zorbee while Bakhram and I take advantage of our new VIP status and stroll off for a spot of lunch and shopping in Kordai. As you can see, officials in Kazakhstan have hats large enough to hold a small police convention on.
And here they are poring over our route maps with Bakhram. The plain clothes policeman guarded us overnight in his car ….
…and also showed us the best roadside restaurant for a shashlik lunch.

The High Road to Kyrgyzstan

2010-09-23T16:02:00.006+01:00

Saturday 11th September To avoid a long boring tramp along the high road, we have taken a short cut over a spur of the Zailisky mountains. This was a beautiful route along a very rough track through some stunning scenery.
An idyllic campsite with plenty of fresh if rather cold water to wash in!

Isolated yurts.

The only downside was that this route brought us inconveniently close to the Kyrgyzstan border, and we had a worrying few moments early on when we reached a Kazakhstan military checkpoint and thought we would be turned back. But our consulate letter seemed to do the trick and thankfully we were waved on.
But the next day we took a wrong turning, and if it had not been for the advice of a local herder, would have found ourselves on the wrong side of the border in Kyrgyzstan. Not such a problem for Bakhram, who is from Kyrgyzstan, but it could have been uncomfortable for me if I had been discovered there without a visa.

Which way to go?
I never knew Sancho Panchez had made it to Kazakhstan.

Crows and Dombras

2010-09-23T13:33:00.008+01:00

Thursday 9th September

I have been riding steadily westwards along the foot of the Zailisky mountains through some unspoilt and quiet countryside, passing the occasional small village. But little hilltop citadels, such as shown in the photo below, invariably turn out to be one of the Moslem graveyards which are scattered throughout the area.

Sometimes we pass herds of sheep, cattle or horses, with or without attendant herdsmen.

Compared with China, Kazakhstan teems with birdlife, but curiously this includes enormous flocks of crows, rather ominously reminiscent of Hitchcock's 'The Birds'. I did not linger through this field, which must have contained several hundreds.

One village we visited en route was Zhambyl, named after the renowned pro-Soviet Kazakh poet/musician Zhambyl Zhabaev, who was apparently able to perform the entire Kyrgyz epic 'Manas' by heart, among other talents. The Soviet authorities gifted him a house here, and the building with its rooms as he lived in them is now open to the public. There is also a surprisingly substantial museum attached, as well as a mausoleum in the grounds.

The museum includes this diorama of a white bearded Zhambyl sporting his ever present fur hat. All the labelling is in Kazakh, so I have no idea who the shifty looking character in the white bedsheet is, but his dombra playing is apparently not up to much, judging by the way Zhambyl is clutching his stomach. In case you have not boned up on Central Asian musical instruments, a dombra is a Kazakh two-stringed guitar, particularly important for accompanying aitys, or Kazakh traditional improvised verse performance.

Kazakhstan is not short of ancient car wrecks, but this Mad Max livestock pen is a novel use for them.

Around Almaty

2010-09-22T16:48:00.011+01:00

Wednesday 8th September
Almaty is tucked right into the mountains to the south, so getting round the city without tramping through town meant scrambling over the hills on little footpaths really meant for hikers - scrambling being the operative word. It was so steep and tricky in places that I had to lead Zorbee for much of the time, as well as negotiate roots and fallen branches. It is highly unlikely I would have got a packhorse over this route!

However the splendid views of Almaty with the steppe extending into the distance beyond made it all worthwhile, though the photo below does not do the view justice by any stretch of the imagination.

And the added bonus of travelling by horse is the interest it sparks - at Medeu I was invited in for a welcome cup of chai by local horse owner Ulaan - not something that is offered to the many hikers that trudge this way! Here is Zorbee giving a pony ride to his little daughter Uljaan.

And at long last I have had the change to christen my new tent. In style, as a nice gentleman let us camp in his apple orchard at Medeu, complete with al fresco dining room.

Wolves and Mosquitoes.

2010-09-22T16:08:00.007+01:00

I have been out of touch for the last three weeks due to the fact that we have been camping and I have been unable to charge my laptop, so the following posts will bring news up to date. I have also just discovered that it appears I can now edit my blog from Kazakhstan. However, in checking my blog it also appears that one of the blogs I emailed home was never published, so here it is, slightly belated.

Monday 23rd August

Here I am having just crossed the Ili river, and the smile says it all - I am on the move again! My hat brim is tied to my saddle due to a stiff wind which preceded a rainy afternoon, but it was pleasantly cool for a change, which was a relief. Alimjan is peeking over the horse.

We stopped a little further on for lunch at the Kazakh house below - the sturdy fencing is to protect their sheep from the ravenous wolves which prowl the area. The ravenous horse is tucking into a feed of maize in the yard, while we were fed and watered, or rather 'chaied' inside.The humble exteriors of these houses invariably belie the sumptuous furnishings inside. Below is the luxurious dining room where we tucked into tasty bowls of laghman (noodles topped with spicy meat and vegetables) before a little siesta on the couches in the living room.

Alimjan pushed me to continue to the next small town of Taramgasu, with dire warnings of the monstrous mosquitoes which apparently prowl the swampy banks of the Ili, his exhortations being echoed by Kanat, who needed little persuasion after his insect ridden night in Koktal.

I ended up driving cattle along the road with a cheerfully talkative Kazakh herdsman who came galloping full tilt up the road to check me out - I managed a surprisingly informative conversation with my few words of Russian.

KaZorbee the Vidazorb Horse

2010-09-07T13:51:00.004+01:00

Saturday September 4th

Now the bay gelding is tried and tested and I hope to ride him across Kazakhstan, he can finally be unveiled as the new Zorbee, or should I say KaZorbee! A worthy representative for our sponsors Vidazorb, as he is calm and steady, but also has a bit of a kick, rather like the marvellous Vidazorb probiotics he is named for! And of course a natural product.
He is the right age and size, and a comfortable ride. Although not as bombproof as Bajiu, he is pretty unflappable. A slight attitude problem leads me to believe he has been getting away with things with someone in the past, but that is hopefully being ironed out. He can be tethered absolutely anywhere without mishap and is easy to lead. He is essentially a friendly chap and good to handle, though can bite and kick if he is unhappy. But that is undoubtedly the result of past handling, and it certainly did not deter Vladimir the wonderful farrier at Sergei Buikevich’s Equestrian Centre, who made an impressively calm and efficient job of reshoeing him without any Asian-style methods of restraint, and with a excellent set of shoes.
He is relaxing in luxury at the centre (at Butakovka near Almaty), which is like a rather grand equestrian health farm equipped with every sort of horsey amenity - he even had a wash in their equestrian shower room on arrival, before his manicure. Quite a rise in the world for a meat horse, as he rubs shoulders (not literally) with some stunning and no doubt extremely expensive horseflesh.
Here is Sergey with his Grand Prix dressage stallion Voltan - to my surprise he is an Akhal Teke, but nothing like the whippet like creatures I am used to. A big strong lad, he is apparently descended from the famous stallion Absent, who was the same type. In the meantime Marat the guide and I have been completing arrangements for my 4WD and driver.
The 4WD is an experienced but serviceable Lada Niva which I have bought from Valentina who is trading up. And to drive it I now have a charming young English speaking Uighur from Karakol in Kyrgyzstan by the name of Bakhram. I seem to be doing a line in Uighur drivers. Here they both are posing together in the mountains behind Almaty when we went for a recce today.

Unlike in China, I will actually be able to drive the Lada myself, and I intend to use it to get to Atyrau when I have finished riding next month.

Keeping Clean

2010-09-06T14:01:00.008+01:00

Monday August 30th

I have arrived in Almaty having covered over 200 miles from the border, though the last few days have essentially been a hot and boring trudge along the main road. However one advantage has been Alimjan’s familiarity with the route - he has been able to find reasonable accommodation in people’s homes, and he knows all the best places to eat. Here is a lunch stop with friends.

One of the continual concerns particularly when one is riding in sweltering hot weather is how to wash at the end of the day, and I have certainly been faced with a variety of solutions over the last fortnight, and that is not counting when we were camping. Here is our water source for three days in Koktal, which we shared with passing livestock ….
…and the bathroom in Kokpek. If you look carefully you can see the bar of soap in the crook of the tree.

The most welcome experience was the ‘banya’ which is essentially a sauna bathroom in an outhouse, with steam produced from an old rusty boiler fired by wood. Containers of cold water are placed inside and having worked up a sweat and soaped, one ladles cold water over oneself - immensely cleansing and refreshing. Alimjan had his own banya, as did Rosa the Russian. In Bayseit Alimjan took me to the small public sauna bathhouse - only room for one at a time, in case you are wondering. In one household we were able to have a cold shower, which involved Kanat climbing up on the roof of an outhouse banya to fill a container with water. A turn of a tap by the shower head in the room below, and hey presto, a shower.

Another variation was the washing facility at a little house we rented for the night. Alimjan heated up water from the pump across the road on the outside stove …….

…. and we carried pails of hot water to the shower cubicle at the bottom of the garden.