I have never given much thought to the Caspian Sea. As far as I was concerned, it was a big patch of blue on a map of Central Asia. On this trip, we were to cross the sea by ferry and I was hoping the sailing would be nothing more than a brief encounter. However, after a longer than expected personal experience, I decided it was time to hone in on a few brief details about this splotch of blue.
Why was it a sea? It is an enclosed area of water, in fact the largest enclosed area in the world, so surely it should rate as a lake. Evidently, the ancient people who lived there called it a sea because it was boundless and salty. It is salty but its salinity is only about one third of that of most seawater and it is 27 meters below sea level. Today it is a source of rich revenue to the countries fortunate enough to claim some of its shoreline. Black gold. It is rich in oil deposits. There are hundreds of oilrigs on the sea and still many deposits remain untapped.
To by-pass Iran, we were to sail the Caspian on ferry from Baku to Turkmenbashi.
Before Baku, we had a small mishap to the truck as we were leaving Sheiki. When backing the truck along what looked like a normal Georgian Street, complete with a crumpled surface of seal and shingle, there was a sudden wild lurch to one side followed by a gentle slithering slide as the truck came to a halt on a decidedly strange angle. Everyone gingerly stepped out to find that the road had collapsed beneath one of the back wheels leaving the truck on a most precarious angle. One back wheel was buried to its axle and it was going to need some manpower to help move the truck from its predicament.
It was a good chance for the young fellows on our trip, to give a practical demonstration on using spades and shovels, and show the muscle power about which they were always bragging. Under the tyre, the road surface proved to be a thin layer of shingle on top of wet clay. Digging the hole bigger and part filling with big rocks and stones, plus the aid of a tractor saw our big yellow truck back on firm ground within an hour.
When we reached Baku, I was pleasantly surprised to find a big modern town of almost two million people. It is a mixture of old and new with massive construction sites all over the town. Instead of unsightly barrier fences surrounding most sites, they used the barriers as a showcase for photographic art. Replacing the usual plain corrugated iron or similar, with big sheets of some kind of plastic cladding, they decorated them with beautiful photographs of the town and surrounding countryside. Some construction sites had restricted the pictures to those of the proposed building but most gave a wonderful promotional display of what Azerbaijan has to offer.
Because of the oil, Baku is a wealthy town with the waterfront a central feature. There is a wide promenade, almost three kilometres in length, together with trees and paths in a park-like setting making a spacious area for entertainment and stalls. It is a central focus for the town socialising. Every night there is entertainment provided by a varied selection of all kinds of fun and games for the old and young alike.
I was amazed at the people who strolled along the promenade every day and particularly in the evening. Most of my amazement was centred on the fact that everyone was dressed in his or her best. I was probably the scruffiest person walking the promenade! Men wore business suits often complete with ties, while the women were dressed in glitzy dresses and high heels. Young guys were spruce in clean jeans and trendy shirts and the girls showed off in the latest Azerbaijani fashions. Perhaps not a lot of privacy, but it was the fashionable place for couples to wander or sit on one of the seats under the trees and whisper sweet nothings to each other. Because children go to bed later in some warm countries, families strolled along together. When I was there the sound of fun and chatter filled the air. No one hurried. It was the end of the day. Everyone was enjoying the pleasant surroundings and the balmy weather.
In the early morning walking along the almost deserted waterfront, I saw anglers out in force. Two long jetties plus beachfront berths made it an ideal place for hoards of the fishermen. The main fish they were catching seemed to be a small mackerel about four or five inches long.
A lovely port town, modern, with great parks and sparkling clean!
A big percentage of the people in Baku are Russian and very friendly especially if you make the effort to greet them in their own language. It does not matter if your pronunciation lacks a little in the guttural sounds, their quick response and ready smile give you top marks for trying.
On our truck, I had one big problem that did not improve with time. I found the truck jiggled too much for me to read or write. It did not bother the young ones but even with glasses, I have limited vision. I have found that Sudoku is a great time-filler but there is a limit to how many games of Sudoku you can play in one day. Some of the girls had taken up knitting and I thought that was a great idea and something I could manage.
However, I still had a problem. I do not think they knit in Azerbaijan. I could not find a shop that sold knitting needles, let alone wool!
In one shop, which looked a faintly likely place, where they had a bit of everything, when they did not understand what I was saying I tried giving a demo of knitting. Eager to please, one of the men disappeared when he realised I was speaking English. On returning, he presented me with a great flourish of achievement, a beautiful leather bound copy of a thick book. I opened it I saw it was a copy of the Koran in English! I smiled at his gesture of helpfulness and I guess there was some similarity in that both knitting needles and Koran start with a 'k'.
We were booked to leave Baku on the ferry on a certain day but were aware that booking meant very little. We waited three days, the last two with several possible departures each day. I was not particularly looking forward to the crossing so I was happy to accept a delay in sailing time. Baku was a pleasant place to linger but continual delays stretch your patience to its limit.
On the night of the third day, it looked hopeful. We were at the port at 5.30pm and eventually able to board the boat at 11.30pm.
Boarding and visa formalities are a time consuming exercise in some countries.
We had one small hi-cup with the visa formalities on the truck papers. Some official had written permission for the truck to be in Azerbaijan for three days instead of seven. George did not realise that, because like us, he cannot read Azerbaijian. Our visas were okay but they would not let the truck on the ferry. For overstaying with the truck, it would require George to wait in Baku until the morning, pay a fine, and then get on the next ferry, which, experience had showed could be three more days!
The entire group went on leaving George behind. We at least we would get across in the specified period.
Oh, yes, officialdom and paperwork can be a long process! I guess it keeps life from being monotonous.
The crossing was perfect. Not even the slightest whiff of a breeze. The sea was calm and the ship's engines were so quiet you could hardly tell we were moving. Perfect conditions for someone that prefers 'terra firma'. In the morning as I looked around there was endless sea, the only indication that our boat was not the sole object on this planet was the faint misty shapes of oilrigs on the horizon.
I noticed that we did have one non-fare paying passenger, a little bird that looked like a robin. I watched him flit around happily, and wondered did he go to sleep on the boat when it was in port and wake up to find himself in the middle of the big blue sea? Perhaps he was not smart enough to get himself back to shore! He did look very fat and healthy so I rather think he lived on the ship and enjoyed the crossing and a territory all to himself!
The day was hot and sunny with hardly any swell on the sea.
I asked a sailor about the lack of waves,
"Is it always this calm?" I asked.
His single syllable reply "no" said a lot. To emphasis his point he used some wide arm gestures.
"Sea, big waves, six, seven feet!" and then shaking his head sideways, "no problem, no problem".
Maybe not for him but it would have been for me!
The crossing took 15 hours, a fast passage but our patience limits were to have a further test. We had to anchor off shore because we were not able to be unloaded at port.
Three days later, we were still off shore!
I heard a number of reasons why we could not go into port but all were different and none of them seemed to stack up. Most people would be happy having a few more days on a cruise ship. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and almost cloudless, and we had all day to lie around and do nothing constructive.
There was one slight difference about the cruise standards. Ours was a freight ship. The services and condition of the boat were excellent but one thing let down the otherwise good quality of the boat. The loo!
Most of the toilets in our block did not work so they solved the problem by simply locking the doors leaving us with one functioning toilet - well kind of! It took a while to work out the foot flushing system. You had to balance on one foot and lift the other over to the back of the loo. Balancing skills were further needed while practicing the necessary precise and accurate navigation from body to bowl! Here men have definite advantage over women. Plus, it was helpful if you could develop further skills in holding your breathe for long periods.
Eventually we made landing at Turkmenbashi. George had fared better than we fared arriving in Turkmeinbashi later on the same day.
Getting into berth was still a complicated process. We were wakened the night before, and sailed into port to find we had to turn back to sea, and anchor offshore again. We went back to bed only to get up a couple of hours later at 4 am. This time we actually made it!
I will not bore you with details, but the process of leaving one country and arriving in Turkmenistan took a further ten hours! I think I have mentioned somewhere the need to cultivate patience. A sense of humour also helps flavour the tone of acceptance.
I could add more about sailing, but the Caspian, even under perfect conditions, has failed to change my somewhat negative view of sailing as a relaxing and pleasant experience. I would much rather keep my feet on solid ground.
I am sure a holiday cruise will not be my next adventure.
