Set off mid-morning to cover the c.30km to the Uzbek border. Lorries tailed back in an 8km queue.
Sohbet saw me through the Turkmen side of the frontier. Then would-be crossers were motioned into a mini-bus, our luggage (and my bike & panniers) heaved into the towed trailer for a ride of a few hundred metres.
Arriving at the Uzbek immigration & customs, a 90 minute wait as (so I gathered) their computer system was down. Fellow travellers, seemingly all Turkmen, took the opportunity to take selfies with the bicycling Brit.
Finally we were all motioned along. As I waited in the queue for passport checks, a woman rushed up proferring my saddle-bag. It had evidently been knocked off during trailer transport. I hadn't noticed - and was profusely grateful to the woman who'd got it back to me (containing as it does all I need for en route running repairs and puncture patches.
Uzbek roads pretty rutted and pot-holed. But how good to get to the first town. A bustle of chaotic activity and variety; people dressed any old way, lots of more-or-less scrappy roadside businesses and shops. So good after the repressed uniformity of Turkmenistan.
Even with the wind mostly on my side - tough to complete the journey. A sort of gradually increasing fatigue suffused my body as I neared Bukhara, the end of this year's bike ride.