Kazakhstan > 133 km/h on the road

When we wake up, we hear thunder—storm clouds over the lake. It’s still dry, so we quickly get out of the tent to pack it up while it’s still dry. The first drops start falling as we fold the tent. The rain continues during breakfast. Under a stretched tarp, we eat a sandwich, some yogurt, and drink coffee. Because there is no bridge or ferry, we cannot take the route along the top of the lake as planned. We have to return the same way to Usharal and then head north again. In terms of distance, it doesn’t matter, but it’s less fun to retrace the same road. Just past Usharal, there’s a police check. An officer with a laser makes us pull over. According to him, we were driving 133 km/h. We burst out laughing—partly because Brutus has never reached that speed in his life, and partly because the road is full of potholes, and we can barely get above seventy.

Kazakhstan - The perfectly straight roads through Kazakhstan

The officer probably realizes this as well. Without much fuss, we’re allowed to continue. The road is again mixed. Some stretches are reasonable, but just as often, very bad. It seems like a game to avoid the deep potholes in the asphalt. We swerve along the road, but in some places, there are so many holes that we have no choice but to drive through them, resulting in a hard jolt. Hopefully, the tires and suspension hold up. Just after noon, we enter Ayagöz. For today’s endpoint, we had two options: either a very long day to Kalbatau and a relatively shorter day tomorrow, or today to Ayagöz and a longer day tomorrow. Between Ayagöz and Kalbatau, there are no other towns. The only hotel in Ayagöz is disappointing. The rooms are basic, and cockroaches roam the bathrooms. Checking the navigation, we see there should also be a hotel in the village of Atshaly, exactly halfway between the towns. We decide to continue, but first, lunch. Near Ayagöz’s central square, we find a small restaurant. Everyone on the street wants to know where we’re from. We’re starting to recognize the Russian question “Otkuda?” “Gollandiya!” In the restaurant, we eat some samosas—dough filled with meat. After lunch, we drive another ninety kilometers. The advantage is that we won’t need to drive this tomorrow. Arriving at the hotel in Atshaly, it already looks better from the outside. Unfortunately, inside, it’s “hotel njet.” A boy translates with his phone that there are no rooms available. What now? It’s too far to continue to Kalbatau, and there are no other lodging options in this village. We are allowed to pitch our tents in the back yard. For a small fee, we can also use the shower. There is a bar and restaurant. A perfectly fine solution.