At another camp we all have our first wash for several days in the river.
Almaty gets closer and for Baz that means the possiblity of getting his bike back on the road.
With the tents pitched right next to the river we're a target for viscious biting insects and a sleepless night as hundreds of very loud frogs croak their way to dawn
A family come to the river at dawn to wash their car and picnic.
One man, part Cherokee, is a writer and gives Pete a copy of his book.
Despite our protestations they insist on giving us the food from their picnic even though we've already had breakfast.
In brilliant sunshine Pete and I ride a great road south eventually to the outskirts of Almaty and wait for the Landrover.
In the city we get lost, probably through watching the hoards of beautiful women instead of the road, then get lost again.
It's very hot, the bikes are overheating and we're getting pissed off.
A bus scrapes my pannier, Pete's outraged and kicks the bus,
it swerves into him, he topples and falls. The driver, also outraged jumps out of the bus ready to lay into Pete.
Now Pete's a great guy but when he's pissed off it's best keep out the way, luckily the driver saw this as Pete ran towards him so beat a hasty retreat to his cab and sped off.
Almaty's road network is a grid system with few obvious landmarks in the city to orientate yourself. Just about every car tooted and waved as we negotiated our first heavy traffic for a very long time.
We eventually find a hotel where we can sort the bikes out, sort this and sort that before heading to Kyrgystan and Tajikistan where the Pamir mountains await us.
The staff are just like grumpy Russians at first but after a couple of days they were almost human. So it's up to our room a cold beer and view[the backdrop of the Zailiyshy Alatau mountains over the rooftops of this leafy city.
Liv.
