Khiva, and back to Fergana Valley

The friendly marshrutka driver drops me off on the main road into Khiva a kilometre or so from my slightly out of town hostel. Using Google Maps I set off in the right direction, but soon find myself going along a pretty rough dirt road.

The darkness of another night is painting deep inky brushstrokes across the sky and this dark alleyway is becoming just a smudge. I had bought a folding trolley in Tashkent and lashed my backpack to it, to allow me to be a tourist - carrying anything heavy is a big no-no for still tender herniated discs. Unfortunately the dirt road spells disaster for my trolley and a wheel comes off. It's far enough to the hostel, and my pack is heavy enough that it would almost certainly lead to ruin for my back. In the darkness I try to assess the situation. The spindle has a small hole in it, and I'm able put the wheel back on, and by forcing a paperclip through the hole in the spindle and bending it so that it stays in place, I'm able to keep the wheel in place just long enough to get to the hostel!

Khiva whose name, according to Lonely Planet is "redolent of slave caravans, barbaric cruelty, terrible desert journeys and steppes infested with raiding Turkmen tribesmen, struck fear into all but the boldest 19th-century hearts", managed to beat the older and arguably more historically important cities of Samarkand and Bukhara to be the first Uzbekistan city to gain World Heritage status, and is undoubtedly one of the great Silk Road cities.

The hostel I stay in is another very international scene. Hayley, the English cyclist I met in Nukus a few days ago has made it here. She tells me that she has been struggling to buy a winter sleeping bag. It's starting to get cold now and soon it will be hitting freezing and the temperature will start to plummet even further at night - especially where she is heading. I'm a little concerned for her - but she doesn't seem too bothered!

Next day, as Hayley leaves, Sam from the US and Nina from Germany arrive. We decide to share a driver to go out and visit some of the ancient desert forts in the surrounding area. These remote, mighty fortifications are an impressive sight overlooking sandy desolate outcrops, particularly the first one - Ayaz Kala.

On the way back Sam and Nina come up with a plan for a Halloween Party - it's very impromptu, so costumes are a case of making do with what's available. I end up as a loo-roll mummy.

A final look round the old town on All-Saints day, and it's time to go again.

I've now visited all of the most important tourist sites in Uzbekistan. The time is getting close to go to the Trail Running World Champs in Hawaii (if you haven't been following my posts - I finished first in the 2017 Thailand Trail Running Series which won me a place at the World Champs; I booked my flights before damaging my back, so have decided to still go, as I have never been to Hawaii, never competed at a World Champs before, and the chances of me winning any national senior title again are so low, that I feel I have to go, even if I'm not fit to run, and have to walk it).

So I've booked a flight out of Osh, which lies on the Kyrgyzstan side of the Uzbek-Kyrgysz border, in the east of the country. As the cold Central Asian winter is already beginning to bite, and will get significantly worse from here, I will stay back in Europe after the World Champs for a bit, to work on more physio, so I can complete my rtw cycle, and hopefully (as the International School recruitment rounds will begin early next year), I'll also be able to secure a teaching job for next academic year. The journey to Osh will take me back through Tashkent, then onwards through the Fergana valley, through Margilan where I left my bike and much of my gear, when my back failed.

Sam and Nina are both going that way, so we catch the train together. Sam and I stay at a hostel (my usual place - Topchan is full), whilst Nina stays with her local friend Dora. Next day Dora offers to show us all round Tashkent. It's nice to get another local perspective on a city I feel I know quite well after my extended injury stay here.

So, it's back to Margilan and my bike. It has been locked to a tree in a courtyard protected by high walls at Ikathouse in Margilan. But that has not been enough to protect it from dust and dirt, and it's pretty filthy when I arrive. A good clean sorts it out though. I sort through my gear (I'm going to take the opportunity whilst I'm back in Europe to replace any equipment that is beginning to wear out).

I also arrange to send my sleeping bag to Samarkand where Hayley has just reached. She has still not managed to find a sleeping bag, and has a very wintry mountain crossing through Tajikistan just a few days away. My winter bag is unused, and will be a little on the excessive side when I come back in late winter/early spring, so it suits me to get rid of it too (I bought it in a hurry when my pannier went missing in China, expecting to be riding through the winter and need a heavy sleeping bag).

Whilst in the Ferghana valley, I'm able to do something I almost never do while on bike tour - tourist shopping. There is absolutely no case for buying anything other than essential equipment and supplies when you need to carry every last gram over mountains and through deserts. Now however, I'm on my way back to UK, and Christmas is close. Not only that, but I'm in the handcraft epicentre of Central Asia. In particular I'm keen on visiting Rishtan - the home of Central Asian ceramics, Margilan Silk Factory, and the knife makers of Chust.

The master ceramicist of Rishtan is Alisher Nazirov. He has been hand-throwing and hand-painting beautiful ceramics for most of his life, and has a fantastic cottage industry going. The beautiful pieces are all individual and whilst a lot more expensive than the Chinese mass produced pottery now available in Central Asian designs, are extremely good value for what are essentially works of art. I am able to make a significant hole in my Christmas shopping list here!

Next up is the Yodgorlik Silk Factory in Margilan, not far from Ikathouse Guesthouse where my bike has been all this time. They produce silk and cotton on hand operated looms. It is like taking a step back in time to Dickensian England. The noise of shuttles and motors whirring fills the air and women busily operate the machines - each making a different design. The most important cloth here is called Ikat, and just like the ceramics - mass made variants abound, but it is so nice to be able to buy original handmade items for Christmas gifts. The material here is so interesting and beautiful that it has been recently used in the Paris Fashion Week Show, and they have produced material for several top fashion designers. Mum - your Ikat tablecloth is much more trendy than anyone else's in the village - it's been worn in the Paris Fashion Show!

Getting to Chust proved a little difficult, and I was going to have to do quite a big backtrack to get there, but I discover that one of the finest Uzbek knifemakers has lived for most of his long life over the border in Osh, Kyrgyzstan (where my flight back to Europe flies from) and has been creating beautiful kitchen knives from recycled materials for several decades.

Zakir Jon, also known as the blademaster of Osh is hidden away in a residential area, with no signboard or markings to advertise his presence, so it's only after asking house to house that I find him and his workshop. The blades are beautiful, enscribed with stars and crescents (cosmonauts were apparently all the rage in these parts when he was a young man perfecting his art) and they also feel nicely weighted in the hand - I'm sure they will make chopping and slicing less of a chore. So I buy one for my brother and one for me.

And so I leave Central Asia. My rtw cycle tour is on hold for now - not exactly in the way I would have liked, but hopefully I will be back in March to pick up from where I have left off.