Azerbaijan overturned all our preconceptions. Having read several cycle blogs where the cyclists had whizzed through the country as quickly as they could, we were expecting a scorched desert landscape and an uninteresting journey to the Caspian Sea. We couldn’t have been more wrong. Much of the country is made up of beautiful beech and oak forests and hazelnut groves, flanked by majestic mountains; the food is delicious; and most of all, the people we met were incredibly kind, generous and welcoming to us, and made Azerbaijan one of the highlights of our trip so far.
This generosity became apparent to us before we’d even crossed the border. As we were waiting for the gates to open, chatting to the very friendly guard about English football teams, we were approached by an Azerbaijani man who asked us if we had already arranged our money for the country. We hadn’t and, suspecting some sort of scam, were immediately on guard. So we were totally taken aback when he handed us 10 Manat (£7), insisting that we take it so that we could buy water across the border without searching for a bank.
After a few formalities, we crossed over into the forested hills of Azerbaijan. We were immediately struck by how different the driving was from Georgia, as cars waited politely behind us until there was space to overtake, and were astonished to be greeted with cries of ‘Salam’, waves and smiles from virtually every person we saw. The road was shaded with huge trees, and felt just like a French boulevard. Stopping for tea, we again encountered incredible hospitality from the young boy in charge of the café, who presented us with bunches of grapes picked from the vines above us, chocolates from the local shop and delicious tea, before refusing all payment.
That night we camped in among the trees, happy but confused by the country which was already so different to what we had expected.
The next day we awoke to the sound of cows and sheep, and opened the tent to see a bemused shepherd herding them past us. Another beautiful, shady, day of riding, followed by one horrendous sweaty climb, brought us to Sheki. Here we stayed in an original Carvansaray – a central courtyard, surrounded by guest rooms, a tea room, restaurant and garden, all enclosed in fortress-like walls.
This was a resting place where travellers on the Silk Road would once have stayed in safety with their animals and merchandise. It felt very special to stay here, having cycled 7,000 km and living a somewhat nomadic existence ourselves for the last 5 months.
We had a day off in Sheki, experiencing the delights of a traditional Azerbaijan tea ceremony, visiting the Palace of Sheki Khans and being introduced to Azeri cuisine – amazing soups for both vegetarians and meat lovers! Jonathan especially enjoyed piti – a clay pot of chickpeas, mutton and mutton fat, where the liquid fat is first drained off and eaten as soup, before the rest is mashed together and eaten as a stew.
Harriet had yoghurt. We then spent the evening sitting in the courtyard of the Carvansaray, listening to live Azeri music, and imagining the travellers who had rested here in the past.
From Sheki, we continued on a minor road which ran parallel to a beautiful mountain backdrop, through several small villages. Stopping in one of these to buy bread from a local woman, Jonathan found himself surrounded by a band on their way to play at a wedding who were very interested in us and our trip.
As they left, the bread seller beckoned us over and insisted we sit down for tea, bread and cheese provided by her very friendly sons.
Revived, we carried on for what proved to be a rather long and hilly day, which culminated in us wandering round an apocalyptic rubbish dump as the sun was setting, desperately looking for somewhere to put our tent. Eventually we found a spot, but the combination of darkness and low blood sugar meant that our second mat got caught on a bramble and deflated too. That night we slept on all our clothes, feeling a little sorry for ourselves.
Luckily, the next day’s cycle got off to a perfect start, with beautiful beech woods on either side of the road, and another generous family offering us tea on their woodland ranch.
From then on, the road slowly became more and more hilly, until it culminated in a sheer sided valley which we whizzed down and failed utterly to whizz back up again. Instead, we found a camping spot and hunkered down at the bottom of the valley, somewhat dreading the climb to come the next day. This did prove to be a challenge, but we made it, and from there we dropped out of the wooded hills and down into the Azeri desert.
This was a hilly hilly desert scape, with a headwind from hell, and very little to distract us from the barren scenery.
Two days of fairly punishing cycling culminated in our arrival in Baku, where we were disoriented by the streams of traffic and somewhat overwhelmed by the heat. Luckily, a passing hotel owner took advantage of our state and insisted we come to his hotel where a fellow cycle tourer was ensconced. Unable to think for ourselves, we agreed and an hour later were delighted to roll into a lovely cheap hotel where we spent the next few days.
Baku was a lovely place to be. Right on the Caspian Sea, it feels cosmopolitan without being pretentious. The city is a beautiful mix of cutting edge architecture, characterised most notably by the incredible Flame Towers which rise above the rest of the city, and a beautiful old town of narrow cobbled streets and sandstone palaces.
Exhausted from our days in the desert, we explored these at a very leisurely pace, visited the slightly bizarre Museum of Miniature Books, and drank countless coffees. Baku provided us with another opportunity to sample the delicious Azeri cuisine, and we gorged ourselves on sorrel pancakes and herby soups, restocking our vitamin levels that had been severely depleted by countless weeks, if not months, of pasta, tomato sauce and cheese.
And we even uncovered a brilliant bar, The Old School House, which would go down a storm in Peckham – hidden behind an unmarked door were groups of trendy intellectuals, with beards and rolled up jeans, playing chess on tables made from old typewriters and listening to 90s indy. Luckily for us, the prices were not so Peckham and with beer for 50p we settled down happily for a few highly competitive hours of chess playing.
We also tackled what we had anticipated as one of the most difficult tasks of our trip – finding a way onto the cargo ship across the Caspian Sea. With no set schedule or even departure port, the boat is a bit of a challenge. But, after a trip to the docks, and several slightly fraught skype calls to Vika, the woman in charge of allowing us on the boat, we had our tickets to board at 10pm that night.
At 10pm, we duly arrived at the port, where we were greeted by several security guards, a multitude of kittens, but definitely no boat. 7 hours later, we were woken from our sleep on the floor of the waiting room and told that we could finally board. After a slightly surreal passport control in a shipping container, we were led onto the boat alongside Brad and Joel, two Canadian cycle tourers we had met earlier in the day.
Apart from the four of us, the other 30 bunks were taken up by Kazakh, Russian and Turkish truck drivers, who were incredibly sweet to us, bringing us tea and cutlery, and enthusiastically pointing out seals to us as we passed.
We spent the rest of our time on deck watching the sea, or playing cards with Brad and Joel, who taught us a new, and somewhat demeaning, game called ‘Scum’ which we enjoyed thoroughly.
30 hours later, we caught sight of Kazakhstan and were soon docked in Aktau.
Leaving the ship was a bit of a challenge as our passports had been taken by the ship’s captain, much to the displeasure of the Kazakh official who came on board to check our documents. However, after much toing and froing, checks of our bags and double checks of all our visas and passports, we were through the gates and finally in Central Asia!