Hitchhiking is a quintessential hallmark of any Central Asian adventure. Here's how my first experience went... and how we can all learn from it. Enjoy!
In the summer of 2019, in my infinite optimism, I launched out on a solo Silk Road mission. Until then I'd never hitchhiked before, truth be told, so that alone should set the scene for this monstrous tale. Just three weeks prior I found myself perusing Skyscanner with fervor and - oops - before I knew it I’d booked a flight to Kazakhstan. Clumsy.
Half calculated, half haphazardly with “what could possibly go wrong?” running through my little mind I watched Skyscanner work its magic and felt my little devil horns poking through my scalp. Well, it turns out that quite a lot could possibly go wrong but that is exactly what you’re all hoping for with a post like this. I wasted no time on introductions or dress rehearsals on the day I’m about to regale to you so in true Wilderliv style I’m going to dive right in. Hoik your sleeves up and grease those palms with engine oil, here’s the tale of 'That time I hitched across the Kazakh steppe'.
After spending a couple of days in Almaty savouring the delights of mystery meat and smashing my phone screen like someone who really wants to get the most out of their travel insurance it was time to up the ante. A dose of free-range Liv time was long overdue and according to my calculations, eastern Kazakhstan had the perfect backdrop for my solo mystery tour. Day one of this chaos bender dawned with the promise of dust in all crevices and steady thirty-four-degree heat. Perfect. I’d done my homework and knew that there was a convenient tour available that could take me across the vast Kazakh wilderness to some ideally remote lakes and mountains. It would hand-deliver me to these sites, fill my belly with hearty meals, and get me back into the city in three days time. The catch? £450 *Maniacal laughter from my internal monologue* “I think not”.
I resolved to ham-fistedly hack away at that itinerary and see what I could carve out on my budget. This is where you may wish to take notes if you’re plotting a similar foray into eastern Kazakhstan, notes on what not to do included. The end destination for the day: Saty, a small but not entirely forgotten town close to the Kolsai Lakes where I’d managed to bag myself a bed in the only guesthouse I could find online. A direct bus just wasn’t going to happen and I was perfectly okay with this. I made use of my reasonably well-honed "no-nonsense please I'm on official Wilderliv duties" aura at the bus depot when all of Almaty’s taxi touts tried to pitch their ideal route ideas to me, unsurprisingly they were all asking for around £100 to take me just halfway. It always amuses me how the colour of my hair can treble public transport rates when I travel. Their claims that the last bus to Saty had already left fell woefully in my wake - blissfully ignored. There was no direct bus to Saty, I knew that as well as they did! Instead, I managed to fumble around in broken Russian in the ticket office and just 500 Tenge later (approximately £1) I clambered onto a Chillik bound bus and left within twenty minutes - don’t worry I gave those drivers a nice smile and wave as we pulled away triumphantly.
My fellow passengers were suitably bemused by the foreign woman who sat ogling the scenery alone but for her diary, I soon learned why - there was absolutely no chance of me writing anything on those bumpy roads. I’m a glutton for this though and with the road starting to crumble away underneath the wheels, I let the adventure vibes kick in. Eventually after a few hours watching the city turn to towns and those towns turn to villages the driver hurled some bemused turned concerned Kazakh at me as we pulled up outside what looked like the last newsagents in the world. He and I were the last still on the bus. Chillik is an end-of-the-road sort of town, an emerging theme. I bought some crisps that looked like they could have been my brother Luke’s age, he's just about to celebrate his 16th birthday. With the first of many installments of trepidation, I examined the neverending expanse of the steppe ahead of me before wading through the heat to a group of men crowded around their cars.
Mum and Dad, this is where you might want to put this down and read literally anything else. Even the phone book.
It was hard to tell if the looks on their faces were hunger or horror when I told them where I was heading. Fierce negotiation followed. Things got very tense very quickly among the drivers. Some were either intimidatingly close to my face, others trying to scam me. I had somewhat expected this so I didn’t let it phase me and I made sure I explained exactly where I wanted to go. I didn’t expect to have to resort to using my teacher's voice so soon into my trip but lo and behold it wound down the commotion and we finally started getting somewhere. Here's a tip for any solo travellers: just keep your cool and stand your ground, show that you're taking them seriously and people will follow suit. Don't let anyone take you for granted, I found that by insisting I knew where I wanted to end up I managed to avoid having to resculpt my plans and stay in someone's brother's dog's mystery guesthouse. This is the sort of talk you become accustomed to in Central Asia and it's all part of the adventure.
I looked at the vehicle that came with the lowest price tag for the entire journey, it looked back at me with a tired rusty smile that if human would have been missing several teeth. I reassured myself that the scratches and crumples on the flanks were mere cosmetic damages. As for the crack in the windscreen, well we’re not all perfect. The driver looked as weary and battered as the car but my alternative came with a smug smile and greasy hair. I couldn't get Doritoes out there but hair gel was clearly in plentiful supply. Mr. Grease’s car was shiny and new, the tires looked like they’d survive the journey and he might even have had AC but remember... this isn’t a fairytale story. I’ll always remember the look on his face when the little decaying red number pulled away with me in the back - clinging for dear life on the passenger seat in front but most importantly, significantly less money relieved from my purse. Low standards? Lower prices. Interpret this however you see fit but remember, there’s nobody to back you up if things don’t go to plan (this can be avoided by not having a plan in the first place if you ask me) and in my case, I had only myself to lean on when things got wonky. Yes, trust your instincts but also - don’t be afraid to ask to take a look under the hood if you want to do a spot of troubleshooting. Past tense Liv would have appreciated this advice even if she wouldn’t have had a clue what to look for.
After what felt like an age we were on the open road and my intrepid alter ego, who isn’t as concerned about a lack of seatbelts, had taken over. Sweeping not exactly elegantly but at least purposefully along the road, a false sense of security cajoled me to relax. “Well, now I can just sit back and enjoy the scenery”, she convinced me. Wrong. The first time we ground to a halt I figured this was something the elderly gentleman driving was used to. He seemed to know the drill: lift open the bonnet, make some dramatic clanging noises, offer the car some curse words of encouragement, and then drive on. After the fourth breakdown, I was getting concerned - we both knew there wouldn’t be a garage within a hundred-mile radius and that there were only so many times we could attempt to cool the radiator (I’m guessing here) with dwindling river water. On round five of this rigmarole, the crack in the windscreen resembled fork lightening… Not recommended.
There was only one thing for it at this stage, I was going to have to get out and push every time the car made its alarming heaving sound. We had both learned the hard way that this was its way of warning us things were about to go wrong - think of the suspense when a baby creases its face and nobody knows whether it is about to scream or pass wind. In this case, the car was going to do both if I didn’t give it some TLC. I have to say, I did surprise myself with my physical strength that day but I think the promise of stodgy Kazakhstani bread and biscuits stepped in as my primary motivation - there wasn’t an alternative route after all! It wasn’t all bad though as the scenery was simply jaw-dropping and would transform every 20 minutes or so - when we were making a decent pace that is. I’m talking rolling hills, unending horizons, blooming meadows, and jagged Tolkien-esque peaks all within the space of three hours at one point in the journey.
The driver and I sat and toasted two plastic cups of warm Coca-Cola and mystery meat rolls at the side of the road once the end of the journey was in sight. We’d both earned that meaty high five once we pulled up to Saty. I had also managed to slash the costs of the journey by approaching it my own way, all in all, with food for my driver. I ended up paying the driver some extra since the journey took a whopping ten hours and I was conscious of him needing to make the return journey home.
Tips for a Smoother Journey
Let someone know where you're going - even if you're not travelling alone. I gave my previous hostel the address of where I was heading and let them know when I'd made it there.
Do some research and have a price expectation for what is a fair price. Asking at your hostel/ guesthouse is a good place to start.
Know exactly where you want to go and be able to show an address on a map ideally. If you just have a screenshot then make sure it can be zoomed in on.
Keep your cool and try not to let scammers or impatient salespeople overwhelm you.
Agree on a price and location before getting into the vehicle.
Sit in the back if you can, especially if you're travelling alone.
Is the boot secure? What’s going on under the hood? Check before you put your belongings in there - but respectfully, this is someone’s property.
Carry cash in a variety of denominations as not everyone will have change - and you can't rely on there being an ATM wherever you go.
Remember, this is someone’s livelihood. Getting a good deal is only actually good if it's fair for both parties so be reasonable when negotiating a bespoke journey like this.
Conventional toilet stops may be sparse, just so you know.
Take snacks, those crisps turned out to be very disappointing.
You'll get bonus adventure points for being able to suggest routes or offer assistance with the potential mechanical interruptions. As always, keep your sense of humour handy - I thoroughly enjoyed this journey on the whole!
Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this then take a look at these:
댓글