Blog de Kaz V

Havng spent the past seven days pedalling through the Kazakh equivalent of Norfolk, complete with rain and carrot-munchers, the call of nature was ringing in my ears by the time I mounted the Duchess on Monday morning. I had looked at the route and narrowly decided against trying to take in a lake or two on the way to the next town. Even in a slightly frivolous mood the prospect of migrating Damatian pelicans was just not quite enough to ask my legs to put in another 250km.

So instead, I set of with a spring in my pedal stroke and a song in my heart as the sun once again shone on the tour de kaz on the road to Koshtau. I had deliberately given myself three days of gentle cycling to complete the recovery and like Vinokourov after a visit from the doctor, I got off to a surprisingly good start. After 50km of the most enjoyable cycling since day one I thought I should take five and check co-ordinates. As I was about to find out, similarities with day one did not end there,

I had gone the wrong way. Not just a bit the wrong way, but completely the wrong direction. The options were st out clearly - I could either turn back and start again, ortake the "B road" to cut the corner. I was still feeling good and hated the thought of throwing away my good work but to head off into the unknown was surely madness and the sensible call was to U turn. I could not make my mind up, BOB looked on with indifference as always and so I looked to my trusty stead for gudance. After all it was her tyres who would take the hits. As I glanced across te bus stop a ray of morning sunlight seemed to flash across her brake levers. It had to be a knowing wink. "You turn if you want to" she was saying, "the Duchess is not for turning". I could have hit her with my man-bag.

And so we headed off along one of the roads on the map marked as a solid red line. My first encounter with a local was not promising. "I don't know if that's the way to Koshtau" she said. "Well what is down there then?" I asked pointing to the road which spun out for a whole 50 yards to a bend. "I've no idea" she said. " Well how long have you lived here?" I asked hoping this might shed light on her ignorance. "53 years" she said. We were in trouble.

Indeed I will not dwell on the couple of hours that followed as they go into the "painful but informative" file of memories of this tour. Suffice to say this B road was to Kazakh highways what Sara Cox is to Rado 1 - rough, northern and rambling on for hours in no particular direction.

So I went on into the woods and got (what will not be a big surprise to most people) lost. However the sad part of the story is that when I did find my way out at 6 o clock the mummies and daddies weren't there to take me home to bed, 100km was waiting to be completed. A gentle 150km day had become a 200km slog and all down to careless map-reading first thing. As my old head master Mr Lewis might say "you have been a very foolish boy Alex, let's all laugh at Alex". I was laughing all the way to super noodles and a vodka sessin with the local firemen.

Despite the set back I managed to snatch the kilometres required to make it to my next stopping point Borabay. This place is billed as "Little Switzerland" though presumably not by anyone who has been to Switzerland. Ernst would not be impressed.

Still, after a long term strike Mother Nature has got back up to her easel and started producing some master pieces. Now a lake, now a forest, now some wading birds and the occasional cloven hooved beast. It's like a feast after the scenic famine of the steppe. I can't say I've gone all out on the hiking but my call of nature has been answered by a sighting of an ibex an two squirels and I have spent the rest of the time chilling on the lake. Bliss.

I have turned the page of the map and I now start the big slog south. All anyone seems to be able to say about it is "hot". Luckily the Duchess' air con is fully operational.

CONGRATULATIONS MUM ON RETIREMENT!!