These days will be etched into our collective memory as some of the most tedious and uncomfortable and uncertain days of the journey, and this is with three weeks remaining (written 5th August).
As we had boarded the ferry and around 5am had set ourselves up in the seating area, the only tourists to have done so since everyone else had cabins or stowed themselves in other parts of the ship, we tried with varying success to sleep. Hoping that, as with the last ferry we would set off whilst asleep, stirring groggily a few hours later to the view of a port meant just one of two things. Either we had made the twelve hour crossing in record time, starting as soon as unconsciousness took hold, or most likely that we were still in Baku. You might be able to guess which one it was.
We hadn’t explored the ship much yet so every so often one of us would wander off and report back with our findings. At one point the we followed some of the cabin dwellers to the “restaurant” for breakfast. What we were given was quite a DIY affair, consisting of some dry bread, a hard boiled egg, one or two cheeses, a tough mini hotdog, some slices of cucumber and a cup with a choice of instant coffee or tea. Hot water was to be found separately in the bar. While breakfast was being finished a rumbling could be felt under our feet as the tielines holding the ferry to the port were being wound in. No cheer went up but we were all glad to finally be on our way towards Turkmenistan!
The engine slowly chugged and the boat pushed away from Baku and started turning around the headland on its course across the sea. After a few hours it became apparent that the land we had just set off from wasn’t shrinking into the distance, and the shops on either side of us were likewise not making any headway. It seems that the weather that had prevented the ferry from even bothering to dock at Baku was still stopping us from leaving the protection of the headland.
The passenger cabin had to TVs that could receive a range of channels from various countries and sometimes we were mesmerised by strange comedy/crime/drama shows in Russian or some other regional language. Other than a photo of the ship to show how shiny and new it is (compared to those run by the Azerbaijan ferry company they were very modern) there wasn’t much to look at.
With our trip to breakfast being so late in the day it wasn’t long until lunch was served. This at least to the form of a complete meal, comprising mainly of warm buckwheat, bread, and chicken. There may have been a salad but as we headed further east the types of salad we received became sad, pale imitations of fresh vegetables. With this meal came the rumours that, since we hadn’t set off for Turkmenbashi yet, that food might have to be rationed since only two meals per passenger will have been budgeted for a 12 hour crossing. We took stock of the snacks and water we had brought aboard and hoped we wouldn’t have to rely on them too much.
As well as providing basic food and drinks for passengers, the ship seemed to boast plenty of toilet facilities for the 200 foot passengers on board, the cabin dwellers having their own en suite. The number of working toilets however was a mere fraction of the total installed. Essentially there was one working toilet for the men, one for the women and no toilet roll to be seen. In addition the floors were constantly wet, hopefully from water splashing out of the sinks, but it’s best not to dwell on that.
As our situation became more a case of survival than a simple sea crossing, Marcel and Elias, the Swiss team we had met in Baku took pity on us and offered first the use of their showers, then floor space in their cabins as it became obvious that we wouldn’t be arriving by the morning and should make ourselves comfortable.
Before bed though, the Swiss had a mission that they needed to complete. Their vehicle, a converted Volkswagen T5 ambulance, had a 12v fridge/freezer that would run down the vehicle battery if not plugged into the mains. The lower vehicle deck of the boat, being intended just for storage of vehicles for the crossing and not for people to visit, had no electrical outlets available. This meant that the fridge needed to be rescued and taken up two levels to the cabins so it could use the power there. A small team made their way to the front of the ship, down a series of steep steps, past a makeshift crew gym and onto the lower deck. The vehicles were packed in so tightly that most of the walk from the front of the ship to the back where the rally vehicles were parked was made sideways, walking like a crab between wing mirrors. It was hot down there and we were glad to be back up in the air conditioned passenger area with fridge in tow. The future of their food having been secured for the moment, our two teams went to sleep.
That was day one aboard the ferry.
Day two was pretty much more of the same. More boredom, more waiting, more Azeri satellite TV. Speculation on when we might finally move became a regular topic as the teams got to know each other better during our third day of trying to get to Turkmenistan. With the sea air a mix of salty and sandy, sitting out on deck even in the shade became a stuffy pastime, and trips were made back to the air-conditioned passenger cabin, whose air was cooler but seemed a lot less fresh. And so it went, going between hot fresh air and cool stale air.
Most teams were on the Mongol Rally rather than the GoHelp rally and as such had very lean provisions. After breakfast didn’t appear on the second day, come lunchtime there was a ravenous look on their faces and the Portuguese, already agitated at the delay as one of their group needed to fly home very soon after, became very animated in their corner of the restaurant, packets of instant noodles strewn across the table. We shared some snacks with the team of two Brits, the team of four Brits seeming to have disappeared into the bowels of the boat.
The exact moment we weighed anchor is lost to memory, but while the sun was still fairly high in the sky, the boat’s engines started up again and we swung eastwards and we were on our way. To Turkmenistan!
Later in the day we spotted that some kind of meal service was going on in the restaurant. People were sat at tables and a single staff member was coming out with bread and plates of food, occasionally taking money from the locals. There was an Afghan businessman who had been at the port and proudly talked of being a millionaire and how big the engine on his car was, he had been dispensing useful information throughout the trip as well as asking various people if they were married. At this point we asked him what was going on with the food. He said that you needed to take a table, send one person up to hover by the kitchen entrance and catch the single waiter to relay how many meals you wanted. It seemed he didn’t take US Dollars, and Turkmenistan currency not being exchanged outside of the country we would need to swap money with one of the staff or passengers. Having swapped $20 for 100 Manat and given hand signals to the waiter we sat down to see what happened next.
First two plates of some kind of bolognaise arrived, followed by a long wait as the waiter then took one or two plates of various dishes to different tables. Thinking he had misunderstood or forgotten the other four people sat at the table we gestured at him and eventually more mixed plates were brought out, but strangely he didn’t take any of our freshly exchanged Turkmen Manat.
Satisfied with our various mystery meals, and fairly certain that the boat would make land at some unearthly hour the next morning, we took advantage of the Swiss team’s cabins and bedded down for a few hours rest.
Team Yes We Khan 