The Caspian Ferry

Taking a ferry across the Caspian Sea turned out to be one oft the greatest headaches so far – ’cause this is not an ordinary one. Actually it is not even a ferry – it’s a cargo vessel for big trucks and train carriages with some more or less unofficial passenger facilities where basically the staff is sharing their cabins for a little mite, usually 10 USD. To successfully catch the boat several tasks have to be mastered. First, one has to find the ticket office. Second, one has to find out when it is open. Third, and now it’s becomes more interesting, one has to find out about the schedules of the boat. Fourth, one has to manage to buy a ticket and fifth, one has to actually manage to board the vessel. Task 1 and 2 are a bit annoying but comparatively easy. As for task 3, one will be told that no schedules exist and that the boat will arrive when there’s cargo to be shipped, and will leave as soon as it is loaded. To cut a long story short, in the end it took me about two weeks waiting and massive support of my local friends to buy a ticket and get board.

On arrival in Kazakhstan I caught a glimpse of why no one was motivated selling me a ticket: after the boat was docked, everybody had to take a seat and remain calm. Then, grim looking immigration police officers came on board, checked the passenger’s papers which had been collected by the 1st officer beforehand, and interviewed everybody about there motivation to come here. Later on I heard that the oil business is booming in Kazakhstan along with the caviar industry attracting illegal immigrants. In contrast, Azerbaijan seemed to have had it’s best time already. After the checks had been done, everybody had to leave the vessel and was forced to proceed to the immigration office. I was protesting as my bike was tied to a metal pipe inside the ships belly and I wanted to collect it first. Furthermore most of my luggage had still been locked inside Sergej’s and Parchat’s Volvo truck. On boarding the ship I had asked my Kazakh friends if they would lock my stuff inside their truck as I didn’t trust the vessel’s personnel that much as that I wanted to leave the panniers attached to my bike nor was there a staircase leading to the passenger area from inside the hull. Protesting didn’t help much, I first had to go through immigration, afterwards I was free to collect my belongings.

The whole bunch of us was led into a room, made to put the luggage in the middle and step back. Then another uniformed guy with a big German shepherd came in and had the dog snoop around. It was dead silent. Then, single persons where called to a room for interrogation. Others where asked to go to another room, where the immigration formalities were processed. Everybody was photographed, asked a set of questions and the accompanying luggage was x-rayed. Finally I was done, stepped outside and: no sign of any of my friends! I went back to the gate and explained to the personnel that my bike was still on board inside the restricted customs area. Surprisinglynobody seemed to be concerned about that or felt a need to accompany me – what a contrat to the just experienced immigration procedure! Back outside I was waiting for either Sergej or Parchat, when after half an hour Sergej finally showed up. “I was looking for you, where have you been?” did he ask. I explained to him what happened, then we went inside the restricted customs area once again to get my luggage form their truck. After we were back outside he asked me where I was planning to stay. I told him that I wouldn’t have a clue, but would consider to cycle to Aktau and find a cheap hotel. He told me that they would stay at a Kyrgyz friend’s place a little bit down the road, that they would expect some female friends to come over, and that I would be very welcome to stay. I accepted and delayed Aktau for the next morning…