Interlude

Dear all,

♫ And here I go again on my own

Goin' down the only road I've ever known [not strictly true]

Like a drifter I was born to walk alone

An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time

But here I go again, here I go again,

Here I go again, here I go ♫

Ahem.

Mike and I waved off Claire, Matt, Dan, Lucy, Martin, Jenny, Emma, Amy, Mika, Cathy, Helena and the newbies this morning. They're leaving Bishkek to carry on to Tashkent, Ashgabat, Baku, Tbilisi and Istanbul. Mike is heading home to San Francisco tomorrow (over twenty five hours via Moscow and New York) whilst I will be flying to Delhi via Tashkent this evening. I'm currently sitting on the sofa in Mike and Tim's Yurt (formerly Cathy's) listening to the birds in the garden and watching the welcome sunlight through the open door.

I miss them already. I've made friends on this truck, not just Facebook friends. I'm still marvelling at the immense capability and personal strength it takes Claire and Matt to bring a truck through countless countries, camping out or sleeping on the truck, then driving back west over eighty days with twenty four assorted travellers of varying temperaments and naiveties. There's no time off, no sick days, no plan B. There was no situation they couldn't handle because they have no choice. Fortunately unlike some other Dragoman journeys there were no upsets - no major breakdowns (of passengers or truck), no cancelled visits (apart from Xinjiang camping which I didn't particularly miss because I'd left my one warm sweater behind), no major illness. Everyone got along - more or less - and we were all prepared - more or less - for everything the trip threw at us.

I'm trying to do nothing now because it doesn't feel like the right time to be a tourist. I will get some lunch and leave it at that. My taxi to the airport will pick me up at 4pm. On arrival at Delhi I will make my own way to my B&B at 3am in the morning, collapse then slowly try to get my bearings amid the crowds and 36 degree heat.

Stephen