I write this in a small café in the small town of Shetpe, sheltering from the heat of the day. It is 5pm and still blazingly hot outside, and although I knew that this next section would be tough, it is quite another thing to experience the baking heat for hours on end, to feel my skin crusted with salt and my mouth dry within a minute of sipping water. This area is a mostly-flat dusty brown, with hardy spidery shrubs and the occasional group of camels, which adds a certain intrigue otherwise lacking in the landscape. It is sparsely populated; yesterday I cycled for 80km before hitting my first settlement after Aktau; today, it was 70km before I arrived at Shetpe. With the heat, extra water and food and cross- and head-winds, this will be the physically toughest leg of the journey so far.

Whilst the physical environment has been tough, the social surroundings have been much kinder. On my first day in Kazakhstan, a Kazakh man around my age greeted me in the supermarket, asking if I needed anything and insisting on paying for my bananas, water and bread; “you are a guest in our country”, he smiled.  Yesterday, I pulled in at a bus shelter for some shade as I was eating my lunch and was slightly disappointed to see two men there – after some tough miles on the road I didn’t fancy much chitchat. They only spoke Kazakh and the conversation was limited, though they clearly had a humble lifestyle. Before they left, one of the men gave me a cucumber, a tomato, and an apple. It was a simple and powerful gesture, and an important reminder that generosity is always possible, and does not need to be extravagant to be meaningful. I gratefully ate the fresh food before heading on.

There has also been much support and interest from the road. Lots of truck and lorry drivers have been beeping and waving and quite often when I am stopped a car will pull over and the man will get out and ask me where I’m going, where I’m coming from and part with the exhortation in Russian “Happy journey!” The favourite sequence of questions has been: “How old are you?; “Do you have a family?” followed by “Why not?” I am in a part of the world that values family very highly and ones identity is more closely linked to your children than career.

I definitely feel Europe has been left far behind, though much feels similar from my time spent in Kyrgyzstan and Russia – the utilitarian buildings, the sleepy feel to the villages, and children playing on dusty streets. I’m excited to discover more of what makes Kazakhstan special and see how the country changes as I move through it. I’m also a little unsure of the challenges the next few days will bring. But right now I need to get back on Chris and head into the evening heat.