The week off the bike--

Give me my bike anyday in preference to busses - especially on Turkish or Azerbaijani roads!
I apologise for the rather long delay in news but we have survived a trying and exhausting week and have just traversed Azerbaijan and are in the steamy, rather grubby city of Baku on the Caspian sea.
After hoping anxiously that we may have the chance to bike across Georgia - it became obvious that it was not to be. The entire party complete with bikes and huge bags were bundled onto a small, rickety bus- and we headed south to Ankara. It was a 20 hour journey and to say that it was uncomfortable is a massive euphemism. The only good part was that it was like seeing the country again on' fast forward' and thereby make a more lasting impression.
We arrived exhausted and filthy at 1.00 am and fell into bed in a rather comfortable Ankara Hotel.
A days respite - and then the dismantling and re- packing of bikes into boxes and the chucking out of anything vaguely redundant, as we were then to board a plane and fly- via Istanbul to Baku. Shuttling of goods and people in a small van followed , and then lots of waiting to catch the 'red eye' to Baku.
Our arrival in Baku was unpleasant and unceremonious. We arrived at 4.30am/
A mob of drunken Georgians made immigration and customs more unpleasant than usual and for reasons quite beyond me - my visa was not recognised. So out with the cash and the docile attitude and I finally emerged a legal visitor.
The sun was just rising as we boarded yet another bus and as we drove through a sleepy Baku - the first impression was of a smelly garbage strewn, grey disorderly city cloaked in a grey mist of pollution. And all around, the small oil pumps moving in apparant perpetual motion.
In a semi coma - we were driven to the most westerly town in Azerbaijan - Saki- where we were to resume riding, and so get back on track.
Anything to just get off the bumpy bus struggling through road constructions and battling up steep inclines.
But there was a point of wonder. I was shaken awake at one point and under my nose was stuck a small basin of freshly picked, glistening blackberries. Our kind local contact had taken pity on his load of exhausted, hot hungry Westeners and stopped aloing the side of the road and purchased the blackberries form locals who earn a bit of extra cash picking the berries which grow in profusion along the side of the road. I enjoyed every juicy mpothful- andmomentarily forgave the fact that on my Harmony in Knysan - blacxkberries are noxious weeds which I spend time and money sparaying with herbicide!