Khiva to Bukhara; (5/5); 27/06
Monday 27th May
Didn’t have a great night’s sleep — we only adjusted one of the sidewalls with the additional loop, and the other side unstaked during the night and kept noisily flapping against the tent.
In the morning there was sand all over the tent floor and it seemed to have worked its way inside the bags too. My stomach was not feeling well either — I’d had a somsa from a roadside cafe the previous day — the somsa’s I’d had previously had come directly from the tandoor oven, but this one had been in the fridge and then microwaved. I suspect it had been in the fridge a little too long, and this is what caused me to run to the other side of the large mound in the morning, with a mild sense of panic as to whether I would make it in time.
I was feeling pretty miserable packing up, with the bad tummy, sand in our belongings, a bad night’s sleep, and with a strong headwind forecast for the next two days and 120km to Bukhara, another two day’s of difficult cycling before the luxury of a bed and shower.
I asked the group, in a jokey way, if someone stopped to give us a lift to Bukhara, if we would accept given the conditions. It was a pretty unanimous yes. However, given we are a group of 5 with three single bikes and a tandem, I did not think anyone would stop, and if they did, that there’d be space for all 4 bikes.
About 5 km into the day, an articulated lorry stopped in front of Pierre. He asked if we wanted a lift, as I think he’d seen us struggle with the wind. To be honest I was pretty flabbergasted this was happening. The truck was filled with bags which in the UK usually carry cement, but there was space up top to put the bikes.
After about 0.25 seconds of thinking, we told the driver we’d like to accept his offer and go to Bukhara. We bundled the bikes atop the cargo and all five of us crammed into his cabin at the front — three of us in the seats next to him and MayLyn and Pierre in the sleeping space behind the driver.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
We attempted to make small talk through translation apps. On the outskirts of Bukhara the driver stopped for petrol, and we bought him a 2L bottle of coke and a few packs of cigarettes he’d been smoking as a display of thanks.
He dropped us of on the interchange, so he could continue his journey to Samarkand, and we cycled the remaining 10km or so to the bed and breakfast in central Bukhara.
I was glad to have a shower and relax in a bed.
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |