We awoke late from a mountain air-induced heavy slumber to find that the soft morning light had significant warming power. Sitting in a lush garden, feasting on home-made sourcherry jam and local honey, washed down by delicious spring water, we felt like kings.

Scrubbed and brushed, we set out for the village once again, hoping to catch the artisan shops open. Again, we were taken in by the beauty of the simple stone & wood construction and were astounded to learn that these construction materials were held together by a local mortar made of eggyolk and fine gravel!

Interestingly, the wooden inlays are protection against earthquakes: the supple fibres of the planks allow for enough movement to protect the stone structures. Ingenious AND effective: given the intense seismic activity of the region, the fact that all houses are still standing holds witness to the marvel of ancient construction methods. In the face of some of these surviving techniques, pne can’t help but contemplate the vast quantity of knowledge and skill that we have lost over the years. This should also be a lesson in humility for modern man: we often think we are so much more advanced than the generations of our grandparents,  great-grandparents, ancestors. Not so! With the development of consumerism, we have succeeded at producing more goods, faster and cheaper (These goods. however, are often times of less good quality than they used to be) but we certainly have not succeeded in inventing BETTER production/construction methods: they are simply different, with other strenghts and shortcomings, catering to a fundamentally different societal and economic system.

The clock struck one and time had come to bid farewell to picturesque Lahic. We set off down the “road”, slaloming around earthen ruts and gravel pits and 19 hard-earned kilometers later, we were once again on the beautiful tarmac of the main road to Ismaylli, which was flanked by vast rolling hills of wheat:

Fields eventually morphed into thick forrest (photo at top), which provided very welcome shelter from the afternoon rays. A beautiful piece of the world, the locals obviously enjoy picknicking in their woodlands as the forrest was interspersed with little restaurants, kebab houses, Cayxonas (teahouses). These are actually laid out quite nicely and blend in tastefully with the surroundings: we were impressed!

The afternoon wore on, and despite the short distance planned for the day, we were more than relieved to pull into Seki, where we settled into the delightfully restored Caravanserai, providing the nicest room we have stayed in in recent memory.

We rested for a few minutes, but soon set out to see the Khanserai. Expecting the “usual” stone forteress with bare rooms and some gruesome history, we were astounded indeed with what we found! Far from being a military construct, this tiny palace was the central administration building for the local khans. Beautifully decorated with detailed paintings and beautiful stained-glass windows, this construction is truly wonderous.

The construction techniques are perhaps even more amazing than the building itsself: not a single nail, nor glue was used to put it together, despite the beautiful stained-glass windows and wood-panelled ceilings.

The rest of Seki old-town was but a quick stroll amidst pretty stone houses. For our last dinner in this intriguing land, we polished off our first doener Kebabs of the journey, sweetened by delicious slices of melon. With 110km to the border, we’ll be sure to make it to country number 6 tomorrow!

After leaving the hotel around 7:30am, we drove through Baku along the coast heading towards Qobustan. While the bay of Baku itself is far from being ugly and has even some scenic spots, the coast line after Baku is infested by oil plants and related industries. In other words, the landscape to Qobustan (ca. 60km from Baku) was pretty dull and ugly. At least, the road was fine, although the rumor that azeri drive like crazy is clearly an understatement! We arrived in Qobustan shortly before 9 am and found the petroglyph site without too much trouble. There, we walked around the site looking for the few petroglyphs (mainly men, bulls and horses) left on the rocks and estimated to be over 12,000 years old. At that time, the petroglyph site (which is now situated on a hill behind the village of Qobustan, west of the sea coast) was next to the sea, which now starts a few km further east and especially 80 m lower.  The manager of the site was a fluent English speaking gentle man, who kindly arranged for a taxi to lead us to the Mud Volcanoes (the other attraction of Qobustan), situated about 20km from the Petroglyphs. So, we followed the Taxi with the bikes (by the way, there is just NO chance to find the volcanoes without a guide!). At first, the road was fine, but then became a dust and mud road, and as we climed up the last mud hill, Mark and me were wondering how we’d make it back down there…  The mud volcanoes were quite impressive:

Although not big (like you would expect a lava Volcano to be), but numerous, you could hear and watch those little craters spit out a nicely liquid and clear mud. I would have loved to emerge my entire body into one of the craters; I am sure the mud is worth the most expensive spa treatments and creams… Unfortunately, there was no water around with which I could have washed the mud off my skin, so I satisfied myself with digging my hand in one of them, and so far, my skin looks fine.

After the mud volcanoes (ie after managing to ride/slide down the mud hill), we headed off towards Kuerdemir, where we stopped for lunch (… chicken Sashlik…!) We then continued our way trying to find the road to Agsu, which we (ie I) missed due to the useless russian map we were following. Consequently, we had to make a small detour and ride through Ismaili, which happened to be a lovely promenade among the country side. As soon as we left the main road, the scenery started to change and the rather dull landscape gave the floor to pretty, even bucolic country side villages, with their fruit trees along the road, their animals ON the road, and a variety of colorful vegetation. The scenery could have been drawn from a chlidren’s fairy tale book, where people live happily ever after.

We reached Ismaili around 3 pm and looked forward to our final destination, Lahic, another 50km away. We reached the intersection for Lahic and turned left lading up the mountains. The next 20km to the village of Lahic were pretty challenging. At first, the road had a smooth tarmac pavement, which then suddenly disappeared, and the remaining pavement did not last long either. As we climbed up, little rivers kept invading the road, so that what was left of gravel and stones kept being displaced making the path uneven and slippery. What regularly lifted my spritis was the handful of Ladas we saw driving up and downs the mountain pass. I thought “Man, if they can drive on this road with their fully packed 30 year old Lada, it must be doable with my brand new BMW 650 GS!”. And so it was. I gess these roads use more Mark’s and my nerves than our bikes… So, after almost one hour of mountain road climbing, there we were: Lahic. Seeing the multicolored roofs from far away, I was afraid to find another dull and modern village with the particularity of being located in beautiful surroundings. Well, I was WRONG. Not only the surrounding scenery was gorgeous, but so was the village, made of stone and wood houses, home to a very famous copper craftmenship. At the tourist information center, we noticed that the tourism center of Lahic is actually supported by the Swiss Agency for Development… We found a nice home stay, left our bikes and bags there, and headed out for a guided hike around the surrounding mountains (it was already 5pm at that time).

The deal was: 3h hike to an ancient castle.
This is what we got: A 20 year old local walking in Flip Flops (ie plastic sandals) at a speed of approx. 5km/h up a very steep ground (not even a path), smoking cigarette after cigarette and not even starting to sweat or feel the effort… I could feel how my face turned red (it always does when I do cardio training), sweat drops kept falling down my chin, and my heart beat as it hadn’t beaten for the last 2 months (driving a motorbike is tiring, but not really a cardio exercise…). Mark was also suffering, but substantially less than me. My legs also felt like the weighted twice their usual weight… Nevermind, I wasn’t going to capitulate and tried hard to follow sticking though to my own pace. After not even one hour, we reached the castle. Actually, it was more like the left over ruined wall of a castle. The castle was thus disappointing, but the hike had been challenging and the scenery like in a fairy tale (see photos), so Mark and me joyfully headed down again as my heart beats regularized. Since not even 2 hours had passed since we had left the hotel, our guide decidd to take us to another place: water falls. Another hour of hiking followed, but this time following a reiver and not a steep mountain path. The water fall was lovely, yet not impressive (see photos), but the hike again very nice. We headed back to the hotel, and since the sun had not set yet (although it was by then 8pm) we opted for a short walk around the village. Before going to bed, we tried out the 320 years old hammam of our host family. Since some local people (men) were occupying the hammam, I had to wait for my turn… and so wrote this blog in the meantime. Ciao!

We had long planned to have the bikes serviced in Baku. After all, we have clocked over 12,0000 kilometers with only summary ajustments and fixes. Not that they needed any more attention (we do feel somewhat vindicated to have spent what we did on the bikes), still, just the same as a yearly health checkup, it would be good to have a mechanic do a oneover in addition  to our mandatory 10,000km service.

Having decided to ride through the country in the little time the stubborn customs offficials allowed us to, we headed back to the ferry dock to complete the paperwork and take our babies to the quack. 2 hours went by at the customs post, waiting for “insert expletive here” officials to do their work. It seems these people have a faculty for doing everything at slower than snail’s pace… I am dumbfounded with the ability (or lack thereof) of certain folks to eat up hours doing the simplest of tasks. That said, these snails are surprisingly agile and quick as lizzards when it comes to buggering off home or to lunch! I promise  myself, if I ever stand for public office (phat chance…), I will do what I can do introduce some competitive base into officialdom, get rid of slow and obstructive people and import result-driven compensation into some jobs.

Anyway, after 2 hours of frustration and total absorbtion into the dumbest game I could find on my telephone, we were out of there. As ever, one nightmare replaces the other: now that we  no longer faced the bureaucraty, we were let lose amongst the wilderness of Baku traffic. 2 months ago, I would have hardly bet that there were worse drivers than the Chinese… Mr. Hu rest assured, your nation’s competency behind the wheel is leagues beyond Azerbaijan. There is no rule the ladas, mercedes, BMW or Toyotas respect, and this in spite of the tightest concentration of police we have come across anywhere: There is literally a police car on every 2nd corner (police cars here by the way are ALL brand spanking new BMW 5 series). Clarisse did a tremendous job naviguating us through the one-way streets, up and down hills until finally we got to the garage.

We immediately felt at home at the workshop, as the mechanics were wearing iXS overalls. iXS is a swiss motorcycle fashion company and one of our sponsors! We were happy to leave the bikes in what we felt were extremely competent hands.

Thank god, as it became apparent to me on the way to the garage that this pitstop was badly needed: In Ashkabad I had already noticed that Clarisse’s panier frame seemed bent. Now I saw why: 2 important welding points on the frame had broken apart! As it turns out one of mine had too! Moreover, as we left Nokhur, I found one of the screws holding my subframe and panier frame in place had fallen out! This service was happening JUST IN TIME.

We wondered around town, treated ourselves to a pizza for lunch and cake and coffee too, before heading back up the hill to pick the bikes up. The maestros had welded the frames together again, performed all sorts of other minor magic (fortunately there were no major problems with either vehicle) and given our best friends a lot of TLC (Tender Loving Care) that will, we hope, last us until Istanbul.

And so, BRING ON the 29 remaining days / 7000 km!

After spending the night a few kilometers off shore of Baku, waiting for the permission to moore and disembark, the moment finally seemed to approach. At 7am, we heard the anchor being pulled out of the water and the ship finally headed towards the coast. We disembarked around 8:30am. At first, everything seemed as usual: many border officials, all asking the same questions and giving us instructions. After passing immigration, it was the turn of our bikes to be inspected. As one official walked up to us and informed us that we had to pay 110 USD per bike for the boat fare (Grrrr….we already paid 92 USD per person on the boat…), another official wanted 5 USD for port service fee, and another wanted us to buy an insurance for 8 USD, etc… Considering the number of payments we made already before embarking in Turkmenbashi, and the number of corresponding receipts we got, we were quite annoyed by these new surprise surprise fees… We complained, refused, smiled, shouted, …. Nothing helped. But our despair reached its climax when yet another official walked up to us, apparently the boss around, to inform us that we could only stay in Azerbaijan 3 days with the bikes, and that if we wanted to stay longer we would need to go to the head customs pay an uncertain amount of deposit, which we would then with even more uncertainty recover when exiting the country through a little country side border post in the mountains… Noone ever told us that our bikes are under a different regime than ourselves… By that time, it was almost 10am, and we already aspired to leave the country.

At least, we could leave the bikes at the custom until we took a decision on the 3 days / 5 days issue and the deadline would not start to run as long as the bikes were there. So one thing at a time,the next priority was to make it on time to Baku’s Foreign Language University to meet up with a group of students at 12pm to talk about our trip and Climate Change. So, decided to leave our bikes at the customs for now and find a hotel. We uncharged our bikes, hailed a taxi, drove to one hotel mentioned on our guide book, where the male receptionists were even less friendly than the border officials, so that we decided NOT to stay there. We drove to another hotel, much better, although also totally overpriced (50 EUR per night for a very simple room…). We showered, changed, and made our way to the university.

Chantal, the intern from the Swiss Embassy in Baku who helped arrange the meeting, was there to meet us. We were welcomed by several professors of French and English and a dozen of their students amid to practice their French/English and talk about Climate Change. The discussion started with an introduction of each and everyone. Most of the students present were studying international relationships, and therefore had to study at least 2 foreign languages (Russian not counting officially as foreign language). We started with an introduction of our trip. The students were very curious about what we had seen, what we liked, we disliked, what shocked us, etc. We then talked more specifically about climatic change or other environmental problems we saw along the road, the most acute one being probable the increasing dryness and the water management. We talked about our discussion with various people on the road, the Chinese laughing at us looking for a trash bin, the Kirghiz and their pristine nature, the Uzbek and their dead Aral Sea, Marble Ashgabat and the Karakoram Canal, etc. And we also talked about the role of industrialized nations compared to poorer, developing countries.  Our message, as mentioned on our website, was that EVERYONE has a responsibility, whether poor or rich. Of course, the measures one can expect from a poor person are not the same than what a rich person should/could do, but our message is not that much about the specific measures to be taken, but rather about one’s attitude. Respecting the environment is first of all an attitude, which does not depend on one’s budget. Taking Nokhur as an example: This village made of mud houses hidden at around 1000m in the Turkmen mountains was one of the cleanest villages we had ever seen, and it was not linked to the richness of the people there (our guide estimated the average monthly income of the villagers lower than 100 USD). It is just that they cared about their village and their mountains, and although they did leave the gaz on 24 hours a day, they did not throw garbage in the nature, but had organized a truck coming twice a week from the city in the valley and picking up the garbage! Compare this to the many Chinese laughing at us because we would insist on putting our garbage in a bin and not on the street. The difference does not lie in the social welfare of these local people, but rather on their general attitude towards their environment.

Obviously, some of the students were more interested in the adventure aspect of the trip than in its environmental aspects, but others did have a pretty high awareness of climate change and seemed very much concerned also for Azerbaijan. It was a very lively and interesting discussion and exchange. The students, although not in detail, were aware of the challenges that major oil production and consumption create and they were not at all indifferent to it. It was also interesting to note, that although it is common knowledge that most of the environmental damage existing today have been caused by the “rich” countries, they all shared the opinion that environmental issues had become so important that nobody could go on ignoring them, rich or poor.

After a short photo session following our discussion, the students kindly invited us for lunch at the teacher’s cafeteria (inviting meaning that they paid for our lunch, but did not sit with us unfortunately …).

A French Teacher – Ulfet – who assisted the discussion kindly then suggested to show us the old city of Baku, which is UNESCO protected. And so we spend the afternoon wandering around the old streets of Baku, together with our spontaneous guide. We shared dinner (not shashlik this time, but HAMBURGERS in a Hard Rock Café like Stylish Café of the Pedestrian Area of Baku), and headed back to our hotel.

After a difficult start, the people of Baku seemed to be much nicer than the Azeri state officials, and so we went to bed feeling that Azerbaijan could – after all – become a nice experience. Ciao!