TALES OF KAZAKHSTAN ON TWO WHEELS

It’s noon in the blistering heat. I drop the bike again on the sand track over the Taukum Desert. After some cursing, I recall the warning voices of Marat, the owner of the rental bikes, and several others who told us not to come here. “Every time there’s trouble—people get lost, can’t find fuel, get hurt or break the bikes. Further, there are private hunting reserves in the area that can also cause headaches. It’s best not to go.”

- Renato Braz

Wise advice, but we decided to go anyway. After all, I’d prepared for the trip. Ran, swam and even did a few sessions of Pilates. All useless now. The only thing that can prepare you to ride a fully loaded motorcycle in the sand is riding it fully loaded in the sand. That’s it. I even suspect that the human body has some muscles that are exclusive to this and therefore impossible to train in any other way.

For the Taukum crossing we chose a “short” track of about 100 kilometers. That’s sand, mind you. And off to either side of the track were thorn-filled wild bushes. A nightmare.

Some may practice mindfulness a few minutes every day. Well, out here you’d have to practice for hours a day. Your full and complete attention is essential to lead-laden bikes through these sandy tracks. And if you get distracted you’ll taste sand.

Speaking of distractions, during the first day all we saw were wild horses and camels, but while breaking camp the following morning, Tiago almost put his hand on an inquisitive brown scorpion who’d been busy exploring his backpack. Throughout the second day we had several other encounters with snakes, turtles, lizards, deer, spiders, a fox, and several varieties of insects and birds of small and large wingspans. Other than the sand I don’t understand why it’s called the “desert,” because life certainly thrives here.

That day, running on fumes and with water reserves down to the last few drops, we finally made it through the Taukum crossing and back to good old (if potholed) tarmac. We’d fulfilled most of the pessimistic prophecies: we fell, got lost, got a few bruises and hurt ribs, and we had to make repairs— but we made it!