Ramblin Scot

This all began one fateful day when my Azeri friend Cavansir invited me to what sounded like a beachside festival. He forwarded me a WhatsApp message about the event: somewhere on the Caspian shore, tents provided, karaoke, music, games, and even “special guests!” It sounded like a laugh, and all for the poxy sum of 25 manat, or about ten quid.

-Me and Cavansir near the Russian border

When border guards flagged our ramshackle car down, the dawn breaking over the Caspian sea, I was a sleepless wreck, jolted awake by the unexpected encounter. They laughed at my dreary state as they went through my passport, and let us pass. I couldn’t communicate with the Azeris who had driven me to this place, and I had no idea where I was. I was seriously beginning to question my life decisions.

Cavansir is an interesting guy, a touch eccentric. He is also a little aloof, I feel often I am talking to myself when we chat. So when it came to the day of the ‘event,’ it was a little difficult to shake details out of him. I had no real idea where it was, how we were supposed to get there, or when to leave. He drip-fed me these details as we got closer and closer to the time when we should actually be there, and in his characteristic fashion, began calling me frantically after almost no communication all day.

He instructed me and the English guy I’d invited, called ‘Oli,’ to make our way to a metro stop some half an hour away. We took the metro and emerged onto the crowded street after passing through long, winding corridors. There we were immediately hounded by screeching Taxi drivers and pushed around by impatient commuters, it felt a very distinct deviation from the slick city centre, this place was grubby and crowded.

I had no internet in Azerbaijan, so I called Cavansir through my UK sim, he was again frantic, ‘Why did you leave the platform! I was waiting there!’ I told him, ‘we had thought we’d meet on the street since we were taking a lift to the event. Come to us we’re at this doner place.’ I hoped he would come to us. But after some time, it was becoming apparent that Cavansir was not going to appear, so we made our way back down to the platform. I called him again, and he sounded even more frantic, me and Oli rolled our eyes at each-other.

We tried another exit. We were getting pretty frustrated at this point, searching about for Wifi, to no avail, it seemed like he was talking about some kind of market but we had no real idea. Just as we were beginning to lose our minds, then he appeared, ‘Jack! Bro where were you? Why did you leave the platform?’

‘We didn’t know where you were going to be, and thought you’d be at the street level.’

‘No, no I said I would meet you at the platform.’

After a very short back and forth we let it all go, glad to be finally done with the ordeal. He was there with another Azeri, who spoke no English, he would be our driver this fateful day. We got in the man’s Peugeot, which slanted on one side, had various exposed wires under the steering wheel, and a taped on wingmirror. We made our way in this worthy chariot towards the beach, picking up some supplies, which consisted mostly of alcohol.

Cavansir protested, telling us they had everything. But it seemed like they would charge us for anything we used of theirs, so me and Oli bought our own stuff, and it turned out they didn’t bring any booze anyway. We got there and then the state of affairs became quite apparent. It was not any kind of festival, or organised event, there would be no karaoke or special guests, if anything we were the special guests. It seemed like a group of friends or acquaintances meeting up to camp and party, although without booze which perplexed us.

And as we rocked up on the incredibly windy Caspian shore it seemed to be that there might not even be enough tents. Regardless, we began setting up shop, parking our car and then taking wood from the back of one man’s car to the side of a massive wall which ran down along the beach onto the sea. It was fiercely windy, there was pretty significant swell on the Caspian. So, a few of the other ‘attendees’ pulled their cars round to create something of a windshield. We began building a fire, which they lit using gasoline and tissue paper, in classic Eastern fashion. I covered my face to avoid getting cancer.

Music began to blast from a JBL speaker, old 50’s classics, Cavansir’s favourite. It definitely matched his image, the man simply did not do casual wear, he was wearing a blazer and smart pants even to the beach. Me and Oli chatted some guff and laughed about the situation, as the gang of Azeris sat around and stoked the bonfire, huge numbers of cars were doing similar sorts of things along the beach it seemed.

But our interests were heavily drawn to the wall, it was stupendously high and solid, and there was a large and high pier shooting out onto the sea on the other side of it. We decided to investigate further, first walking following it to the road, where it lead to very secure looking gate, it almost seemed like a miltary compound.

Infiltration

I was undeterred though, following it back down to the beach, passing over some weak fence at the edge between the water and the wall. On the other side was the rest of the beach, and there were some shorter walls protecting some huge mansions high up on another level. The pier was on huge columns, it was inaccessible without climbing said shorter wall, still a good 2.5 meters high, running along it and climbing the pier.

I went along the beach for a while, taking in the power of the Caspian as the waves rolled along the rocks. I then decided to give the pier a look, Oli decided to join me. We climbed the wall, on the other side of it was an alleyway fit with doors every few meters, all a level below the mansions. We ambled along the wall and climbed up to the pier, running to its edge and feeling quite accomplished. It was an incredible view, the Caspian rolling in at all sides.

After some time we decided to leave, but I, ever the risktaker, decided the mission wouldn’t be complete without exploring the space a little. It was quite strange, I was confused as to why it was so secure, they seemed like holiday mansions, but for who? We started walking around the mansions, where there was a small paved street that lead through various gardens and greenery, with small parissiene street lamps. We risked a look at the other side of the gate, it seemed like there was no one, so we pressed on a bit deeper down the walkway.

Eventually I bottled it, and turned round, the anxiety of getting caught building. On my walk back, I snuck another look at the gate, suddenly noticing a man on a chair. And with that we began sprinting back to the pier like naughty schoolboys, jumping down onto the wall from the pier and dropping back onto the beach, nearly breaking our ankles in the process. But I was quite satisfied with my adventure, and got some good footage. After which we arrived back to the ‘camp.’

‘Bro! Where did you go!’ Asked Cavansir.

‘We went round the other side of the wall and had a look at the pier, and the houses as well, it’s a whole compound, it’s crazy.’

‘Maybe we can go.’

‘Haha I don’t know maybe, I think there was some security or something.’

It never ceased to amaze me how game he always was, at a glance you might think he’s uptight since he’s always suited up, but as he says ‘Azerbaijanis we always have energy.’

The night went on, and so did the wind, completely unrelenting. It was decided that we would not camp here, which I thought meant we were going home. Me and Oli got back in the Peugeot, a different Azeri got in for some reason, and so we were without Cavansir as we pulled away from the beach. We began driving back to Baku, to our initial relief, but then we continued driving as if to leave it. I asked them in my limited Turkish where we were going, they replied ‘Quba.’ This was news to me, I told Oli to get out, he had a hostel stay and no tent, it didn’t seem like they really had any tents to spare. I got them to stop before they fully left Baku. He managed to make his way back but it took him several hours.

And so we missioned North, I was reassured that Cavansir was coming as well, we ran into him after a long wait at a petrol stop. He said that this was going to be even better than the original plan, we would see the North and spend another evening, I accepted the situation, and we drove on. This whole time I’ve been waiting for information on the Caspian Sea ferry, all information online indicates its schedule is quite sporadic, and I had been waiting a long time for it at this point. So it was concerning to be going now so far away from Baku.

I was again alone with the Azeris as they attempted to navigate to some camp spot, we drove for miles and miles, far further than I thought we’d be going, eventually we came to a ‘border control point.’ Men with rifles flagged us down, checking our IDs and sending us on our way. I was now very concerned as to where I’d been taken, their answers were not satisfying, it sounded like ‘Qarabakh.’ Which I wasn’t supposed to go near according to my visa. Still it didn’t make sense considering the direction.

Festival gone wrong

we pulled into the entrance of a forest, meeting up with rest of the Azeris, they were laughing and joking as we began walking and looking for a campsite. My consciousness was fading, and I had started to really dislike these people. We found a spot, I pitched my tent as fast as I could, and tried to go to sleep, they continued to talk, so I put my earphones in and tried to sleep. This didn’t really work, and I didn’t get much sleep. Then, I was awoken to a JBL speaker blasting right next to my tent. I stuck my head out of the tent, incredulous to what I was seeing and hearing.

‘Hey! Hey I’m trying to sleep!’ I was ignored,

‘Could you turn it down please?’ I asked, gesturing with my hand

A lady looked at me and motioned for me to get up and dance. I now truly hated these people. I asked Cavansir to reason with them, he was also trying to sleep, they told him they hadn’t slept either. I got out of my tent, livid, ready to pack away all my stuff and camp somewhere else to sleep. My phone was dead, so I asked Cavansir where we were, he said we were on the border with Russia. I couldn’t believe it.

‘Man what the hell is going on I can’t go near Russia.’

‘I know I said the same.’

I brought myself out of my angry, tired state. I realised that as I was in such a remote location, effectively the no man’s land between borders, that I would struggle to hitch back. These people were my only way back. I went back to my tent, trying to sleep, powering my phone a little, even my earphones could not stifle the roaring bass of the speaker. Eventually I just got up, they offered me food and I refused it, out of anger really.

Eventually, they left to go see the Caspian Sea. I finally had some time away from them, I jumped in an ice cold river, refreshing myself a little. And explored around the forest, it was actually a lovely little spot, and it lifted my mood a little. But then they came back, speaker in hand, so I went to the sea. Passing the border guards in flip flops.

It was also a great place, the beach was all black volcanic sand and the Caspian sea is very mild. I came back and after a while we began to get ready to leave, but it took hours. I was beginning to really lose the love for this place, especially when, as I was disassembling my tent, Cavansir decided to start tossing an axe at a tree right behind me. I got out of the way, and didn’t really know what to say to him. I was angry and only he could understand me, and the rest of them looked on like it was normal. It was at this point I began to really curse the place and the people.

When we eventually got to the car, disaster struck, the Peugeot wouldn’t start. We spent a long time trying to get it running, they analysed some tiny part over and over again. Attempting to reengineer it, which didn’t work. Eventually they called a mechanic who drove for an hour, only to call it quits after ten minutes. The chariot had died. And I had received a text from Stephano, a man I knew from my hostel who had been ringing the ferry port every day. The ferry was tomorrow, I needed to be there at 8AM. The situation was now dire, I had very little time and was very far away.

Me and Cavansir and another got into the mechanics Lada, it bounced around those same backroads until we got to a town, where we left the mechanics car and jumped a shared taxi to Quba. The Azeri man leaned his head on my shoulder, which I just accepted. But he was starting to get way too familiar with me, luckily we got out after a few hours, and hopped another one straight to Cavansir’s house. It was around 4 or 5AM, I needed to get up in three hours, to go to the port which I thought was in Baku.

I got up a few hours later, feeling like hell, I poked a ragged Cavansir awake. We rose groggily, soon finding out the port was actually in Alat, an hour away, it didnt seem like I was going to make it. We had no internet, so me and Cavansir left the house to find some, I didn’t know what we were doing, he just said ‘trust me.’ We walked through the back streets of Baku, the rain coming down and sogging Cavansirs suit. His mood was bleak but I tried to be optimistic. ‘Three days without sleep bro, this is terrible.’

‘Ah well, can’t get worse mate!’

It didn’t seem to work. We came to a big store where we found some terminal. They seem to have a lot if these terminals from the caucasus onwards, you can pay insurance and many other things, and can top up your phone.

He topped up his sim with some cash from me, called the port, and told them to wait. He then got a bolt who explained the situation, I paid him upfront and waved a fond farewell to ol’ Cavansir. We drove off, arriving at the port with moments to spare, only to find the boat was actually at 6pm. With that ridiculous news I eased up, I had made it, and would be on my way out of Azerbaijan tonight.

It was a strange experience, some distinct cultural differences were laid bare to me. Travelling like this isn’t always comfortable, but the world isn’t a totally organised place, you can’t plan on what’ll happen next. Breaking into a compound, getting dumped at the Russian border, your car breaking down. But its all a part of life, if you’re determined, you’ll get where you’re going.

Also those reprobates demanded we paid for the mechanic, my full stay though I used my own stuff and my own tent, and for Oli even though he had to ditch. So to hell with them.

-Jack