Although the Turkish visa was a five minute online application process, Azerbaijan’s was the tour’s first country needing an embassy-issued visa, having obtained this in Georgia’s Batumi when we arrive at the border the security guard asks of us all to wait.  Offering him a sweat to keep him sweet, ten minutes later we’re at the booths, having our passport stamped and along with a photo taken we’re officially registered as being in the country…or so we think.

Balaken was the first main town we arrive at, all appeared to be rather normal, followed here-n-there by inquisitive kids and the normal looks from locals as six cycle tourers cruise by. 

Crossing eastward into Azerbaijan the clocks advance an hour, this was unexpected as from Turkey to Georgia it changed and what with Georgia being such a small country another change so soon wasn’t expected, all the same loosing an hour it was now mid afternoon and day’s intense heat was strong as ever, uncertain as to whether we’d find water springs further down we stop at the first one to refill, but to no avail as it was bone dry.  Fortunately some construction workers erecting a new warehouse across the road call us over to use their hose, some of the others take full advantage and step right under it for a soaking!  I just fill my bottle’s, hoping we’ll camp by a stream or river where I can take a more relaxed wash. 

An hour or so later, passing under this district boundary marker we spot an area to camp, just down from the road, next to a wide river so decide to camp there, unfortunately the river was like the spring we’d tried to use earlier, bone dry, so no bathing for me that night!

 The road we’d been on so far was the M5, a good condition main road but was indirect to the direction we wanted, so upon reaching the town of Zaqatala we take the R16.  With a great downhill section for several kilometres we’re all smiling like Cheshire cats…up until the village of Qakh that is.  The tarmac petered out with patches of gravel and stone until eventually complete gravel and stone.  The route continued like this for maybe ten kilometres or so, Dave apologised as, using his phone’s map application, had initially suggested this route but I said it was all part of the package, if it was all a ribbon-of-tarmac to our final destination there’d be no story to tell or memories to recall.


Several kilometres along we stop at a small spring for a break and water fill, with a few of us taking a clean water rub down…my feet certainly felt better for it!  A nearby fruit seller gives us a water melon – the bad route frowns and moans are soon replaced with smiles and happiness.  Just shy of the town of Sheki the road became good, so we celebrate with an ice cream each - through Georgia we’d found any reason a good enough reason to have an ice cream, relatively cheap and most certainly delicious it would keep us quiet for a few minutes “ooh look, we’ve arrived at a town with a small shop, let’s celebrate with an ice cream”

Azerbaijan is situated in the Caucasus region of Eurasia with three dominant physical features: the Caspian Sea; the Greater Caucasus mountain range to the north; and the extensive flat-lands at the country's centre.  About the size of Portugal, Azerbaijan’s total land area is less than 1% of the area of the former Soviet Union.  Some of the smaller mountains that make up the mighty Caucasus range:

One of the many wide rivers…come winter time.

Due to the high temperatures we decided to start riding as early as possible then early afternoon take a few hours break in the shade.  By 2pm on the second day we arrive at the city of Gabala, finding a fair sized park area with tree-shaded grass lawns and a fountain we take full use of the offerings, with even a few of the group jumping in the fountain.  With intentions to continue around 6ish we had several hours to relax, walk around the town, stock up on food and drinks - basically each to our own.  Nearing 6 o’clock Russell returns from the shops and says that we need to register ourselves as being in the country - we were aware of this requirement with forthcoming countries but not so in Azerbaijan.  In an age of [networked] computers the need for registering seems like a waste of time and paperwork.  The process varies from country to country but basically involves going to either a police station, a post office, the immigration police or booking in at specific hotels and obtaining the authorised paperwork stamp - again the rules vary from country to country but the need to do it in the modern age seems ridiculous - having been entry passport stamped into the country at the border, along with our photograph being taken should surely be proof enough that we’ve entered?? The fact that neither the consular in Batumi or the border police had not mentioned it annoyed us as trying to exit the country without the registration stamp (that had to be done within three days of entering) comes with a hefty penalty, so it’s basically a money trap and can only be viewed as Azerbaijan’s rather nasty way of scamming its visitors for cash.  Would I return here?..read on, but note, to avoid induced manic depression I’d advise readers to skip the next few paragraphs!

Finding we could simply register at the post office we shoot across the road to do so, previously being told that Azerbaijan was 20 years ahead of its neighbouring country Georgia we new it would be a pain-free process….
Firstly finding an assistant that actually wanted to help us proved a task in itself.  Eventually we’re pointed to ‘photocopy man’ who leads us to the locked photocopy room who starts - correct! - photocopying our passports and the master registration document we need to complete - a somewhat more painful task than the first as the only language written on said document was Azerbaijani! Uh?!  Where is the sense in having paperwork that foreign visitors have to fill-in that is only written in the country's native language?  Eventually through sign language, pigeon English and perseverance, copying each other in a monkey-see-monkey-do fashion we pass under the finish line, arriving at the last box of the document. 
Handing over the completed paperwork the assistant now starts copying all the details onto a computer, repeating the very information we had just painfully written.  Observing her computer screen she closes the software package she’d been using, then reopens it, then - placing her face into her hands - as though she’s about to start crying...at that point I felt we both had something in common and that we could - through the slot in the glass divider - share a tissue.  Next the computer is logged out, then logged back in, <repeat>, <repeat> software package restarted, <repeat>, <repeat>, then she walks to another room, then back, then another lady comes along.  Obviously with the huge amount of computer processing power required (!!) to fulfill this epic task their computer system could not stay abreast and had stalled at the first subroutine.  The post-office adventure continued much the same for a good (?) while longer with the group of us looking in bewilderment at what we had been told was a country being 20 years ahead…..of whom, Barney bloody Rubble and Fred Flintstone?  After move faffing around in true Laurel and Hardy style the documents were folded and placed into separate envelopes to be posted of to some paperwork recycling plant in paperworkville.  Finally, after almost an hour we’re handed a receipt as proof of registration!!  Jumping back on the bike and riding out of the city certainly recharged the depleted batteries on my patienceometer.

A roadside display of food goods for sale.

Of the 11 global climatic types Azerbaijan has 9 of them, highlighting just how varied the landscapes varies, quite a feat for a relatively small country.  Heading eastward toward Baku the scenery slowly changed from the green sided mountains to open, desert scrubland with no villages or towns for tens of kilometres, it seemed quite strange as normally when heading toward capital cities periphery towns and villages are in abundance.  


The night before Baku we camped just off the road behind some large hills that proved an excellent choice.  The five of us all chipped in for a group-effort dinner, surrounded by desert under the dusk sky as the stars began to appear.  

The advantage of finding your own unique place to camp can be some excellent sunrises.

Cycling the final 80km to Baku proved the fastest average-speed the group had made so far.  With next to nothing to stop for it was basically a case of headphones on, head down and ride, stopping to re-group every twenty kilometres or so.

Riding in a group is interesting as you get to see other’s cycling preferences.  The Manchester lads, Holly+Dave when going downhill prefer to cycle like billy-o to maximise the descent’s speed (Dave claims to have reached 140km/h (!!!) on a descent in Europe, needless to say that he received jovial banter from the Manchester lads on that figure!).  Myself, having invested the extra energy in climbing a mountain pass always retrieve said energy and let gravity do the work by freewheeling down, the furthest I ever freewheeled was in the Pyrenees, achieving 8 miles (12.8 km), as Newton said “what goes up, must come down”. 

Talking of mountains, with gradients up to 8% I‘ll cycle, with anything steeper my speed drops off and proves more efficient - and less strain on the bike’s running gear - to walk.  Most others in the group persevere and cycle it regardless of the gradient.  On the way in to Baku I found it interesting when Russell highlighted my preference / style of riding in that with a gradient of up to 5% or so I do tend to ride it quite fast, normally being upfront.  I do prefer a reasonable mountain climb, like a dog with a bone it’s something “to get my teeth into”, but if the bones too big I put it down!  I’ve noticed when climbing, everyone else in the group stands on their pedals, using their body mass for extra power, that’s something I never do, I believe that staying perched on the saddle ensures your calf muscles have to do the work, making them stronger.

From its periphery, Baku appeared just like another big city with nothing more to offer than manic traffic-swamped streets with typical care-free approach to cyclists, irrelevant to the fact that the Azerbaijan Cycling Federation website said the government was investing millions into the cycling infrastructure.

The groggy little dive of a hostel we stayed on the first night was, at €14 the cheapest place available.  In Europe prices for a good hostel are typically €10, reiterating the high prices.  With the inability for the hostel manager (old bag!) to mathematically understand the word ‘deposit’ we found ourselves being kicked out the following morning, but soon found ourselves another place, at the higher price of €20 / night.  Unfortunately we’d be in Baku a while, applying for Uzbekistan and Tajikistan visas, fortunately recent changes in Kazakhstan meant citizens of Britain, and nine other countries, could enter for 15 days without a visa, so one less to apply for.  Arriving Friday afternoon meant we had to wait until Monday for the fun-&-games process to commence so really needed to find a cheap alternative.  Holly was soon on the Couchsurfing.com website seeing who would host three of us for a few days.

The Manchester lads had obtained their visas back in Istanbul so just needed to find out about tickets for the [freight] ferries across the Caspian sea, luckily for them there was [apparently] a boat departing at 3am on the Monday morning.  On Sunday mid-day Holly received an offer of a couch from a recently joined member, so with bags packed we head off across the city for our third night in our third location.  Riding through the city for the10 kilometres to Amir’s flat revealed even more of the amazing buildings.  This is the impressive 'Heydar Aliyev' Centre - a cultural centre with walls that rise seamlessly from the surface of the surrounding plaza and contains an acoustically-perfect auditorium, a gallery and a museum.




Another tower in progress.

The governments parliamentary building, apparently inside its ceilings are all falling down due to its shoddy workmanship, reiterating how fake the city is, but at least it impresses those that don’t ask questions.

The Hilton hotel.

Some of the greenery along the waterside promenade, walking / sitting / picnicking on the grass is not permitted, again as it’s all for ‘show’. 


A 450 year old ‘Europa Olive’ tree, imported from Italy..Kching $

A carpet museum on the promenade.

The awesome ‘Flame Towers’ 



Night time reveals the towers in their true glory, revealing a stunning light show, the light is not projected onto the towers but actually contained within the building itself by an embedded full-colour L.E.D. strip surrounding each of the floors.

In the evening our CouchSurfing host Amir and two of his friends took us on a tour around the city.

The city certainly proved a huge contrast to the country that I’d rode through, looking more like London.  It turned out to be a capital city decorated with some of the most expensive buildings I've ever seen, the most expensive (grubby little) hostels, streets lined with every designer label on the planet, from Gucci, D&G, Guess, Lamborghini, Ferrari.  An impressive waterfront promenade - imagine Monte Carlo Vs Central London.  To a fly-by tourist I'm sure it's impressive, but as someone who has seen the 'real' side to Azerbaijan know it's about a false as it gets.  There’s even a Donald Trump tower here, but he doesn’t own it, the city simply paid him two million dollars to use him name, the quickest buck he’s ever made?  The city stinks of wealth, rich from its oil resources and the latest investor-hungry project will be an island built in the Caspian sea, boasting the worlds tallest tower, standing at 1,050m, yes, just over a kilometre high! that alone will cost $2 billion, and be the centre-piece to a city of 41 artificial islands, housing 1 million residents.  Think Dubai's palm island, but BIGGER!!  The estimated cost is $100 billion, or 1 tenth of a trillion dollars! ($1 billion is a million dollars, a thousand times over).  Needles to say the Islands residents won’t come from the towns and villages of the country.
In the centre of one of the city’s roundabouts was a clock on a year-long countdown to the 2015 European Games, in Baku?  Although not officially a member of the E.U. it is part of the European Neighborhood Policy and the Council of Europe, receiving a large amount of aid and infrastructure.  Cycling in to Baku we'd been on single lane roads that were being dualled, and in the city centre a road resurfacing project was underway.  Even London taxi’s are used here, except they’re dark mauve.

Baku’s old town was at least more down-to-earth, an array of maze-like cobbled alleyways with café’s, shops and hotels tucked away here and there, souvenir shops and the usual.