Crossing the Caspian Sea is not a straightforward task. There is no passenger ferry, so we need to get on a cargo ferry that runs on an unpredictable schedule that is dependent on how much cargo they have. It leaves whenever and as frequently (or infrequently) as it wants. Ferrying passengers and cars across the sea is only a side business.


We were able to secure the service of a local fixer, Ishmael, to help us sort out Pam’s Turkmenistan visa problem, as well as getting us onto the boat.


We meet a fellow rallier, Lachlan, a Canadian from Yellow Knife traveling alone. He managed to piss off Ishmael and was blocked from purchasing a ticket or having any hopes of getting on the boat with us. At this moment, Ishmael is the big man in town and he has all the ticket officers and customs officials in his pocket.
Welcome to the way of the world.


Seeing a fellow rallier in distress, I managed to sweet talk Ishmael into putting his prejudice aside and helping Lachlan, under the logic that he would have to eventually deal with Lachlan, if not on that day, then the next.
We started the day at the Turkmenistanian embassy at nine in the morning, went straight to the port from the embassy at noon, and it was not until nine that night that we finally managed to load ourselves and our car onto the cargo ferry.


There was a palatable sense of relief in the air from all the ralliers who were on the boat that day, even though we were still docked, even though we didn’t know when we would set sail. We were a step closer to Mongolia.