Tuesday, 13 October 2026

 

Start: Aralsk (KZ) 7:15

Arrival: Aktobe (KZ) 16:30

 

Total: 614 km

 

 

Shortly before 7 am, the sun rises in Aralsk in mid October. Lots of travellers seemed to be making an early start. At 7 o'clock, we stepped out into the chilly morning air, grabbed some grub from the service station next door and set off. The water that we had left in the car overnight was icy cold. Nights out in the steppe can be freezing at this time of year, even though the temperature easily climbs above 25 degrees during the day.

 

 

With the pale sun bathing the endless steppe in a milky light, we sped along the M32. Another fun day driving! We spotted a sign for the "Jamanshyn crater". Never heard of it. Google told us later that, one million years ago, a meteorite left a hole almost 14 kilometres wide here. Surely impressive, but then again, a shallow 14-kilometre-wide depression is really just a valley. Convinced that we would not miss much if we skipped it, we drove on.

 

For the first few hours, the road was in good condition. Some bad stretches, but nothing too worrisome. Then, shortly before the fork in the road, where the A26 branches off towards Shalkar, the tarmac deteriorated considerably. Ruts, holes, bulges, waves - whatever bad thing can happen to an asphalted road, it had happened to this poor stretch of highway. For an hour or two, I strained my eyes to anticipate the problems ahead and dodge them. For five minutes, stuff like that is fun. On the long run - not so much.

 

 

We had started out with a full tank in Aralsk, unsure whether the gas stations on our map were actual service stations, long-gone relics, AI artefacts or "opening soon"-places. We need not have worried: at the A26/M32 fork, no less than four or five large service stations vied for customers. We ignored them - if necessary, we could make it to Aktobe and in any case I was convinced that further north there would be many more stations. Spoiler: I was right.

 

AI had warned us not to try and take the "shortcut" via Shalkar. "One has to be braindead to even consider that", Sonia said, shaking her head and pointing to the road branching off to the west. It was almost totally sanded over and clearly impassable. No one had driven there in some time. Maybe Shalkar was a ghost town? In any case, we stayed on our trusty if bumpy M32.

 

 

Around eleven o'clock, the road surface improved again significantly. Yay, pedal to the metal! Traffic was light enough to easily speed past the many trucks before us. I wasn't sure about the speed limit: 100? 120? Invent-your-own? A lot of cars drove real fast. Whenever I had to make way for a particularly reckless viz crazy driver, there was a very big chance it was a white chevy with an Uzbek licence plate. They probably couldn't believe their luck seeing such a great street. I was usually cruising along at 100 or 110. At this rate, we would be in Aktobe before 3 pm, so no need to hurry.

 

Sadly, the fun did not last. Every time we encountered a speed limit of "60 km/h for the next 5 kilometres" I could have cried. The road was bad enough as it was, a low speed limit meant that the ruts were even deeper, potholes and large broken patches could not easily (or at all) be avoided and I would be more likely to be going 20 km/h than 60.

 

Around noon, we arrived at the one-cow-town of Qarabutaq, where we filled our tank at a petrol station. As expected, every slightly larger settlement had at least one big service station.

 

 

All along the way, we had seen major road works a few metres to our left or right. Kazakhstan was busy transforming this country road into a four-lane motorway. The project was supposed to be finished by 2030. The wide construction sites and generous ramps everywhere sure looked promising.

 

Sadly, where there are works, there are dust clouds. GoogleMaps had told us that the direct route between Chromtau and Aktobe was closed for traffic and had proposed a three-hour detour to the north. Actually, the direct route was not closed at all. It was packed with cars and trucks, all trundling along the worst road ever in a huge cloud of dust and sand. Several times, the underside of our car scraped the mid-ridge. Ruts and holes so very deep, and bulges right behind them - it was an interesting ride indeed.

 

"We're on the outskirts of Aktobe, at one point this road has to improve", Sonia sighed. Sadly, when you're going 20 km/h in a convoy of trucks, "at one point" can stretch very far. The last 150 kilometres took us forever. Which is, of course, hyperbole, because in the late afternoon, we arrived in the city centre, checked-in, did the usual hotel-stuff and finally set the alarm clock for 6:30 am, ready to do it all over again tomorrow morning.