Continuous rain and plummeting temperatures

It storms like crazy at night. Tanja has reservations. “Do you think the pegs will hold up?” “I hope,” I reply wearily, hear the rattling of the tent track and turn back to the other side. It is still raining this morning. It is cool. “What are we doing?” asks Tanja quietly. “Let’s get some more sleep,” I reply, yawning. At 7:00 a.m., it is still dripping on our dwelling. I remember the hollows and excavator tracks we pushed our bikes over yesterday. “I think we should get out of here. Who knows, if we wait any longer our bikes will end up sinking into the mud and we won’t get them back on the road,” I muse.

At 8:40 a.m. we work our way east against heavy rain at only 15 degrees. Protected by our rain gear, the wet is unpleasant but bearable. The sky is covered with dark, low-flying clouds that in some places make entire stretches of land disappear. Suddenly the beauty of the steppe, the heat and the lack of water of the past weeks are forgotten. Barely speaking, we drive through a sea of puddles. Trucks rushing past us in large arcs put us and our faithful riese und müller under water. After 35 kilometers we reach the village of Qarabutaq. “See that house back there? That’s where you can get something to eat!” a gas station attendant advises us at the entrance to the village. We say thank you and go to the café, which is what they call the rest stop bars here. Again, it is a dilapidated clay building that gives us the impression of collapsing at any moment. We push our bikes under a canopy. As guests have to take off their shoes at the entrance, I also slip out and then walk through the hut in wet socks. It’s wonderfully warm inside. A woman in the kitchen shows me the way to the guest rooms. There are three nested rooms. One of them has a table that is already occupied by guests. In the next room, there are cushions on the floor and tables only 30 centimetres low where you can comfortably crouch down to dine. Unfortunately, we can’t leave our bikes outside unattended. I order a bortsch, the usual white bread and tea. Then we sit down under the tin roof under which our bikes have also found a place. The landlady fetches a few cushions, which is why we are allowed to lounge at a low table. It is unpleasantly cool and we are freezing in the wet. To avoid getting cold, we both put on a fleece and wait for the food. Rain pours in torrents from the tin roof and falls to the ground not far from us. There is a hole in the roof. It drips heavily next to the table. “So it would be more comfortable inside,” I say, still shivering from the cold. “I believe you, but we don’t have any other choice, do we?” replies Tanja. “Right, although there’s hardly anyone here, we’re not allowed to leave our bikes and luggage unattended. Unless we unload everything?” “A lot of effort for lunch.” “Too much effort,” I confirm. It doesn’t take long for the landlady to serve the hot stew. We gorge ourselves on the delicious soup like starving people. As soon as we have filled our stomachs, a large cloud front seems to have rolled over the house and the entire surrounding area. There is thunder and lightning and you might think the world is coming to an end. “Well, if this continues, we don’t need to drive any further,” I say. “Do you think it will last?” “Who’s to know. But the thunder is a good sign. It looks more like a heavy thunderstorm than a bad weather front,” I think. To further tame our eternal hunger, we order milk tea, dry cake from the packet and chocolate bars. After almost two hours, the sky calms down for a while. We take the opportunity to saddle up our horses and continue our ride. As soon as the hospitable village is behind us, another cloud sucks us in only to wash us through. It doesn’t take long and we are soaked to the skin despite our super rain gear.

Here, for the first time since Samara, the road bends sharply to the north. One reason why the master is once again tugging and shaking us with all his might. We pedal on stoically. Kilometer by kilometer, our tires smack their way forward. Suddenly the rain stops. Ahead of us are more deep and dark rain clouds. They storm from west to east. We wait at one of the few and ugly rest areas, which sometimes have a small canopy made of stone under which you can usually find shelter from the sun. Once the weather has passed us by, we drive on. Again, there are no trees to hide behind in this area. Only large snowdrift fences line the road on the west side. “There’s a possibility!” I shout. Behind the snow cover is a hill whose valley in turn offers us a view of the road. While Tanja looks after the bikes, I search the area for a place to spend the night. Lo and behold. At one point they overlap the two-meter-high bars and a passageway opens up to the steppe side. Behind it is actually a lovely valley which offers us a beautiful place to camp. Using our usual tactics, we disappear behind the snow fence and are delighted to be able to pitch our tent on a small plateau on a hill in the endless expanse of the steppe. Because the storm clouds have passed, the sky is now a fantastic blaze of color. We sit there in the soft evening light and devour one of our ready meals from Travellunch. After a day like today, we enjoy the hot food. Tanja predictably had hot water poured into our thermos flask at the rest stop this lunchtime. This saves us having to fire up the stove and gives us a time advantage to get into the tent before the swarms of mosquitoes increase as dusk falls.

Dear reader of our diary!!!

We are happy to write down our experiences here. We are happy to share our experiences with you. However, our journey also has a meaning for us, a deeper meaning. We no longer expose ourselves to such efforts just for the pleasure of it. We have experienced too much for that. Of course, our motivation is still to experience peoples, cultures, their customs and traditions. We are still exploring the unknown corners of our mother earth with an unquenched thirst for knowledge. It gives us energy and purpose in life. However, despite all the positives, we have also experienced many of the downsides of human civilization. We have seen with our own eyes a tremendous amount of human suffering and environmental destruction. It hurts us as if a knife were penetrating deep into our own skin. Our life project “The Great Journey” has taken on a different dimension for us for years now. During the trip, during our travel life, we also want to do something to balance things out. Giving something back to the troubled planet. Not out of selfishness or gratification or self-aggrandizement, but to really do something sustainable. To do something for us humans. For our children. So that they too can breathe fresh air tomorrow. So that they too can play in the sandpit in the open air and swim in clean rivers. We wish all beings on this wonderful, fantastic planet a future worth living. So we urge you to plant at least one tree a month for the Green Vein. You can find more information on our website. (One tree 5,- Euro) We can’t do it alone. We don’t have the financial means. Not yet. Only together can we make a difference. Our motivation lies not only in knowing that our texts are currently read by between 40,000 and 50,000 (forty thousand and fifty thousand) people a month. Our motivation is to work together to create something sustainable for our human future. Together means together with all of you. That’s why we write, that’s why you can read the texts without any financial investment. So we ask for a donation to the mountain forest project. A project that works without profit. A project we have been looking for years to give our name to. A project we trust. We ask you to donate trees. Trees that give us air to breathe. Habitat for insects and birds. Living space for the earth’s population in future years. The donations do not benefit us financially in the slightest. Everything you give goes to Mother Earth!!! We guarantee this with our life project and our name.

Donations are very welcome at:
Bergwaldprojekt e.V.
Keyword:Green vein
GLS Community Bank
SORT CODE 43060967
Account number 8022916200

Mother Earth is alive!

We look forward to your comments!