We’re currently three days into an infinite wait for our Caspian Sea cargo ship across to Kazakhstan. We spent 24 hours driving from Georgia to reach Baku in time for a ferry that was supposed to be leaving on Friday. It’s now Sunday, and we still don’t have tickets or any idea when the ferry will leave. We’ve paid some random guy called “The Fixer” US$100 and gave him all of our documents to sort out the crossing, and yet still there’s nothing. The hardest thing about being stuck in Baku is the fact that it’s 45 degrees, we’re surrounded by unswimmable sea-water, and the only shops and restaurants around are Gucci and Ralph Lauren. But that hasn’t stopped us from having fun. We sleep in the customs/port carpark, we shower in the local fountains and we eat $1.80 doner kebabs for dinner. Life in Baku is not all bad, but since Bulgaria things have certainly started to slow down and get more and more complicated.
Istanbul was our first stop in Turkey. After surviving the chaotic weaving of cars and trucks through the traffic, we made it to Downtown – a labyrinth of cobble-stone streets at an incline of about 75%. We were searching for our hostel “Stray Cats”, which proved surprisingly easy due to the five stray cats lying on the front stoop. We had good intentions of being touristy and visiting the Grand Bazaar, but alas, it was a Sunday and thus closed. Cue several beers and the biggest Turkish meal you can imagine.
The next day we were to cover about 700km up to Samsun on the Black Sea coast. After an hour or two of admin faffing in the morning, we set off into thick Turkish traffic where we immediately lost the Drop Bears after about five minutes. Zipping along at 130kmph for the majority of the drive, the roads covered some epic mountainous scenery. Townsend and I had our voices back to about 90% at this stage, so it was time to whip out the “Across The Universe” soundtrack and belt it out. We stumbled across another member of the convoy on the way – Team Nomad – they flit in and out of the convoy as they please. So together with them and the Fast Lane Loners, we pulled into Samsun at close to 9:30 and tried to find somewhere to camp.
Now in our heads, the idea of beach camping on the Black Sea with a nice bonfire and a few night tipples sounded very appealing. Little did we know that Samsun was actually quite a big city, and it was the equivalent of trying to camp on Frankston Beach… if Frankston Beach was a rubbish dump. It was getting later and later as we circled trying to find the best/least-littered spot to set up camp. Eventually, after Team Nomad’s car got stuck in the sand, we decided that we should probably just set up camp there. There was pushing, pulling, towing, levering and nothing would make the car budge. The wheels were spinning deeper and deeper, and the smell of the clutch was not promising. Thankfully a Hilux drove past and offered us a hand. With their help, Team Nomad was free!
I took myself off to bed shortly afterwards, and by bed I mean the drivers seat in our Nissan Micra. I awoke a couple of hours later to a knock-knock-knock on the car window. Bleary-eyed and without my glasses, I struggled to see through the blinding light of a mobile phone shining into the car. Thinking it was one of the boys, I fumbled around to try and find the door to unlock it. Unsuccessfully, I decided to reach for my glasses instead. Then a face of a random Turkish man came into focus. I instantly froze and stared back at him. He tried to open the door, and then came around the passenger side to try that door. Thankfully I was completely locked in the car. The boys camp-site was about 50 metres away, and completed pitch-black – they’d all gone to bed. I tried the horn, naively forgetting that it had completely conked it earlier that morning. Thankfully I saw Russ and Sam emerging from the darkness of the camp-site and walking towards the car. The Turkish man took that as his cue to jump in his car and leave. Terrified and shaking, we decided that we should all pack-up camp and get the remaining few hours of sleep in a well-lit service station car park. The idea of beach camping very quickly lost it’s appeal.
The next day we were making our way over the border into Georgia. We had a stunning coastal road to zip along at high speeds, luckily my manual driving skills had improved dramatically and I could now handle the sudden breaking, weaving and 130kmph. We stopped at a supermarket from breakfast only to find the Drop Bears buying important things like inflatable pool-lilo’s. We convoyed to the border, where we were stopped, ushered to the back of a 2km long line-up of cars and told to wait. Well, what better way to kill the time than to whip out a goon bag of merlot, a bottle of gin and the ukulele. We rolled the cars forward when they needed to be moved, the boys cascaded the cliffs to go swimming in the Black Sea and we happily hung out with some tunes until 2-3 hours passed and we were able to pass through in Georgia.
Batumi was only 20km from the border, but with the instant change of traffic conditions, we lost the convoy immediately. Dodging cows and pigs, and trying to comprehend how three cars can actually physically fit across one lane, we took a wrong turn and decided to pull over to a service station to get WiFi to contact the others. No WiFi. So we wandered around for a bit. Still no WiFi. We eventually asked the service station manager where there was a hotel so we can use their WiFi. He informed us that he’d only been in Batumi for a short period of time, and therefore didn’t know directions very well. We offered us to drive to his house where his wife and kids were home and we could use his internet, or he offered to pimp out one of his employees who spoke zero English to jump in the car with us and direct us to a hotel, so long as we dropped him back to work afterwards. Deal!
By the time we caught up with the convoy again, they were well-and-truly settled in the hotel bar of our 4-star hotel for the night. Batumi is like “Vegas of the East”. It’s a complete contrast to the cows-on-the-road about 10km’s away. We knew we were in for a big night, but one particular member of the Centipede had peaked a little early. Without going into too much detail, we’ll just say there was a lot of nudity, fire-extinguishers and broken toilet seats. As the boys said… “We completely ‘rockstarred’ that room! Let’s go out!”. Oh dear.
We woke in the morning with the intention of another day’s rest and a possible booze-cruise. I know, I know, I honestly didn’t think the Mongol Rally would be like this either, but who’s complaining?! But then word from the Mongol Rally Facebook Page came through that there was a ferry leaving for Kazakhstan the following evening. The Drop Bears were on a tighter schedule that us, but we had to reach Baku by then anyway to collect Dale from the airport. It was a 24hour drive ahead of us to get from Batumi in Georgia to Baku in Azerbaijan. So Don’t Be Russian Us, Team Nomad and the Drop Bears all set off around midday.
The drive through Georgia was absolutely stunning. The roads weaved through thick green mountains and valleys as we smashed out the km’s. We bee-lined for Tbilisi in Georgia before we needed to stop and get more information about the ferry. It looked promising so we decided to push on through the border before we stop for an hour or two rest. Now, we thought the Turkey-Georgia border was bad. This was like nothing I’d seen before. Knowing that we had a full night’s drive ahead of us, we decided that a repeat border-party was probably not appropriate. Instead, we pulled out the deck chairs, set up the laptop and starting watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas to pass the time. About two and a half hours passed before we were able to exit Georgia. It was about 2am by now, and we’d still not slept. Another three hours would pass before we were officially in Azerbaijan. It was 5am.
The Drop Bears had to push through, they had to catch this ferry. There was still 600km’s of corrupt Azerbaijan driving ahead of them. Team Nomad and us decided to stop for an hour or two to rest our eyes at the first service station we saw. The next day was the hardest day of driving yet. Temperatures had soared upwards of 40 degrees by 7am and we were running on almost zero sleep. Within the first hour of driving, we had been called to pull over by the cops three times. We’d heard the warnings from other Ralliers, so we knew to stick to speed limits and not draw any unwanted attention to ourselves – difficult when you’re driving Rally cars. We had been pulled over for overtaking on a solid line. We were overtaking a tractor going at 20kmph and there was no oncoming traffic. The fine… US$300. Nope. Nope nope… and nope. We spent a while arguing back and forth. Them asking how much money we had, us asking them to complete official documents. Eventually Team Nomad settled a deal of US$50 and we drove off. We had still be ripped off, most teams get away with a couple of cigarettes and a can of Red Bull. The Fast Lane Loners gave them 6 cans of beans and were able to be on their way. It was a slow and painful drive to Baku, the heat was taking it’s toll, as was the lack of sleep, and it was the first time in the Rally we actually had to be conscious of road rules and speed limit
We arrived into Baku at about 6pm completely and utterly shattered. The Drop Bears had already met up with “The Fixer” to arrange their Caspian Sea crossing and were lucky enough to squeeze on as the last team on that ferry. They were celebrating with cocktails on top of the Hilton Baku with panoramic views of the Caspian… an offer too hard to refuse, despite how tired I was. We bid them farewell, knowing that it would probably be the last time the Centipede was together.
We’re meeting up with “The Fixer” again in a couple of hours. We’re hoping to get on a ferry tonight, maybe tomorrow morning, but that’s been the story for the last three days. The ferry is due to take 16 hours, but maybe 30 hours, but more likely 48 hours. We can’t cook on board, and there’s no food or water on board either. We’re in for a fun few days… but its okay, because we have 55 degrees and 400kms worth of Kazakhstani desert waiting for us on the other side.
allama withabackpack 