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Detailed map of rest stops between Beyneu and Nukus here. Just kidding. This isolated town in a forgotten, far-flung corner of Kazakhstan, in the Kyzylkum desert, is where phase two of the desert crossing begins part 1 here. We expect to see nothing—there are hardly even any settlements. Nothing but hot and dry land in between. A long straight line piercing right across the desert. The only road. I always wondered what it would be like. I never thought I would actually be on it one day, on a bicycle.

And here I am. Though we barely spent 24 hours in Beyneu, we learnt a lot. A menu with at least 20 items was placed in front of us, and as we gleefully pointed at each little picture, the waitress sternly shook her head. Actually, the only thing you are guaranteed to get anywhere around here is soup. And sometimes even that is just boiled water with a potato floating in it. We left in the evening, passing all the grand features of the city like the dusty train station and the trees near the market.

Bye bye trees! We made our preparations. Mainly buying a couple of bottles of water. Full of washboard bumps, strewn with potholes, stones, boulders, dips, mounds [insert obstacle here].

At least we took comfort passing several broken down vehicles along the way. Mercifully, after about 35km a new road was being built adjacent, and we could sneak on for the few parts that had been completed. It felt a bit like cheating—a whole road to ourselves.

But we continually had to switch between the roads, a task in itself as we dragged our bikes through mounds of sand. A post shared by Nick Raybould nick. The new road should be finished in Shame, as the abominable old road makes this part of amateur nudist beach girls nackt journey quite something.

I guess it will still be there. More worse. Camp was amidst a fine cloud of dust, our torches penetrating the airborne sand like light-sabres. You can feel it when you lick your teeth. Our throats are coarse yet full of goop. Our eyes all red. But still functioning enough to spot a scorpion next to my shoe before bedtime. The next day the dusty road continued to the border until every crevice of our bikes and skin and hair were thoroughly caked.

We were fortunate enough to come across a small cafe-like place where a very kind man gave us some tea, bread and vegetables and asked nothing for it. People are women for fucking in beyneu generous around here. The border was, as yaoi shota jungen papa sohn, seriously disorganised.

People and soldiers wandering everywhere. We skipped ahead the long queue of dust-covered vehicles and lorries women for fucking in beyneu had thus far survived the road, and were led back and forth a few times with our bikes before hitting the main gate. Ian and Nick barely got their bags checked; mine not at all. No women for fucking in beyneu stuff, no checking the meds, no hassle.

The only thing the guards forced us to do was skip the long queue before the main passport check, based on the women for fucking in beyneu that we were foreign. After another couple of passport checks, we were in. We had to each fill out a customs declaration form women for fucking in beyneu Russian whilst standing awkwardly outside a booth in the baking heat.

Fortunately a Russian happened to be passing by. But I doubt anybody cares. It was a good rate. The touts loitering around a few hundred metres away would only have given usSo this is Uzbekistan. Dusty, barren nothingness. We ate in a busy canteen next to the border, which was probably full of everybody else that had passed through that day. There were a few other tourists some cars from the Mongol rallybut most people were Uzbek.

Tables were busy with chatter and spilt noodles and huge wads of cash. We ate plov rice, veg, meat and lagman women for fucking in beyneu, veg, meat each, two traditional meals of Central Asia, and with a drink it came in at women for fucking in beyneu 2. Stuff is cheap here. We cycled on, now about 5pm to the first village in Uzbekistan, Karakalpakia. We were most disappointed, having taken a little detour to the town on yet another terrible road, that there was in fact no hotel.

We had been counting on staying in one and getting a shower. Essentially, we need to leave the following evening and be in the next place before the afternoon, otherwise boil to death. This gave us a lot of time to get to know this tiny, remote village and its women for fucking in beyneu. Straight off the bat, we learnt this region, the Republic of Karakalpakstan wiki linkis actually autonomous within Uzbekistan.

Not much to it right enough, these days; just desert. Plentiful fields of irrigated crops have vanished thanks to climate change and the Soviet mismanagement of the river which flowed into the now-disappeared Aral sea.

But there was some magic in this place for me. It women for fucking in beyneu full of people on bicycles! No wifi; 1-bar phone signal; a small, rarely visited train station and one place to eat out—but plenty of smiling locals. The people live here without a lot. No place to nip for a pint. There are a couple of places to get tea, a few small food shops and a school. Two women are baking their own bread at the side of the street in a stone oven. Men come over and together we eat watermelon atop an old well.

We camped just outside the town. Supposedly the nearby Chaihana tea house will let you stay, but they are normally hotter than just camping. Dust kicked up from a herd of goats made an interesting sunset. It was a hot morning the following day, making us a bit nervous about the journey ahead. We hung around the town and got some tea and pastry at the cafe the only thing on the menu and stocked up. All the cars and trucks here run on methane gas.

We bought some water for the journey. No fewer than 26 bottles of water between us. A lot of plastic. It contains high concentrations of Uranium and other chemicals like pesticides that are blown across the desert from the dry bed of the Aral sea. Consequently this is one of the most environmentally hazardous places on Earth.

Time to cycle through women for fucking in beyneu We were joined at the last minute by a German cyclist, Jan, who had just come around the northern shore of the Caspian Sea he said it women for fucking in beyneu boring. The road got worse before it got mein schwanz mein sack lied. Only about 30km after the village there was a notable improvement. A few lorries past us here facesitting cum essen cuckolds beschriftungen there but the traffic infrequent.

We passed a few more broken down cars and camped up next to the road. People can see us but nobody cares. Why would they? We got up in the morning while it was still dark. A hot night. I have to leave my camping mat to dry in the morning because of the sweat. But the nights are still, and insanely quiet.

There is a lot of peace to be found here. As we headed off there was a thin layer of high cloud to keep us cooler and it sure made a difference to our day. But it was tough. Staying positive involved either thinking about food or eating it. The day got increasingly hard as the wind picked up and blasted us in the face, sand in all.


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