I had a plan. It was a good plan. I crafted it through weeks of effort and was satisfied. There would be pleasant summer weather. There would be long days of cycling across the steppe. Glorious sights would appear regularly. Unique cultures would be experienced. The birds and I would be in the same place at the same time. I would traverse the World’s largest landmass. No airplanes would be required. A good plan is worth committing to. That was what I intended to do. Honestly, I probably would have similarly committed to a less-worthy version, as that sort of behavior is a distinct part of my character. Add to that the supposition that, if the future plays out as I have envisioned, it is unlikely that I will have another opportunity to experience the best aspects of the aforementioned plan, and my reluctance to abandon its main goals became steadfast. However, this was the year 2020, when no one’s plans proceeded as expected, and as the last days of summer dribbled away the Corona Curtain resolutely refused to lift, not even just enough for me to surreptitiously ride beneath its folds. Despite holding out as long as possible, one more failed attempt to continue east led me to finally, unceremoniously, dump the plan into the wastebasket.

Of course, given the nationalistic societal structures predominant around the globe in our era, individual countries are free to determine their own policies regarding who can enter their territories, and to change those policies as needed during a global health crisis. It is reasonable, however, for the general population to assume, and require, that, in doing so, two conditions will be met: that those policies will be based on logical principles, with respect to public health, and that they will be communicated to the public in a manner that is clear, precise, and timely. Numerous nations have been lacking with regard to one, or both, of these criteria. Subsequently, many thousands of people have been much more severely impacted than I have been, especially students and seasonal laborers, many of whom were stranded far from home for several months with no means of support.

My failure to enter Russia in August reveals a situation were both of these conditions were notably deficient. In beginning to reopen their borders, the Russian government employed a policy of reciprocity, whereby citizens of a particular country would be allowed into Russia provided that Russian citizens could move in the opposite direction. This was clearly a political tactic, as opposed to an effort to mitigate the pandemic, since the virus does not care in the slightest what type of passport a person holds, but rather where they have spent the preceding weeks. The inadequacy of this action was compounded by the fact that it was not communicated to the public effectively, either by the relevant government agencies, or perhaps by whoever translated their statements into English for the media. Announcing that, passengers coming from country X will be required to take a covid test before entering Russia completely misses the subtle, but important, distinction between the English phrases, Where do you come from? and Where have you come from? Attempting to obtain any sort of official clarification on such an issue in the current climate is a task that could only be described as quixotic.

Most of my most anticipated locations along the World2 Tour route were specific, and generally local, places; top-level historical sites, places where exotic birds might be seen, or regions with excellent cycling conditions. There were only two countries on my planned route that I distinctly wanted to visit simply based on the qualities of the countries themselves. The first, Greenland, I successfully enjoyed during the first year of the Tour, and the second was expected to be the highlight of my crossing of Eurasia, arriving there in late July of this year. However, in March that country closed up tighter than almost any other, and, even now, has not begun to crack open again. Consequently, I needed to try and come up with the Next Best Thing, and in so doing, I decided on Uzbekistan.

I have long felt that a tour through the ‘Stans could be interesting and enjoyable, but also realized that it would not be a straightforward affair. Routing would not be simple, timing to avoid rough weather would be critical, and the region’s often obsequious bureaucracy would likely cause problems. However, since I would be forced to fly in and out anyway, due to land-border closures, doing just one ‘Stan would be a little more reasonable. I quickly became excited about that country as a new destination. The cycling conditions appeared to be good, there were a number of interesting dry-region birds to be seen there, and the country possesses four top-level World Heritage Sites that are located along the most reasonable tour route.

Moving on once my tour of that country was complete still seemed like it would be quite problematic, but that was an issue that could be dealt with later, I assumed. At the time I was more concerned about being allowed to enter in the first place. All the information that I could locate seemed to indicate that it would work this time. Uzbekistan made news earlier in the summer when they announced that they were so anxious to allow tourists to enter the country again that if anyone actually contracted Covid-19 during their visit, the Uzbek government would pay up to three thousand dollars for their medical care. What was ostensibly the official Uzbek government tourism Web site seemed to lay out their policies clearly. International flights would resume on August 15th, with countries of origin being grouped into Red/Yellow/Green categories. This time the coming from issue would be moot, since both of my passports, USA and Canada, as well as the country of departure, Turkey, were all Red Zone countries. Therefore, I would be required to do a fourteen-day quarantine upon arrival, which I was willing, and prepared, to do, at my own expense.

Everything seemed good this time, so I purchased a ticket from Istanbul to Tashkent for early September. The day before departure, however, that flight was canceled. After rebooking for the next available flight, one week later, and killing time until then, the same thing happened again. That should have been a big clue, but since there was another flight the next day, I rebooked for a second time. On that day, things finally appeared to be working out. The flight wasn’t canceled and, even though the covid test center at the airport was much busier than it had been in August, I received my negative results back with a little time to spare. However, in a repeat of my Russia experience, at check-in time only Uzbeks, and maybe Turks, were being allowed to board. The agent from Turkish Airlines even tried messaging the Uzbek State Police to try some sort of workaround for my case, but that was denied as well. No explanation was given, but I suspect that Uzbekistan was not prepared to deal with the number of people entering who needed to be quarantined according to their rules. So that was it. The weather in Asia was already starting to cool, no other countries there were showing signs of opening, and I was getting tired of seeing views like the one shown below. It was time to make a new plan.

Normally, improvising a new tour route on short notice would actually be the type of thing I would enjoy, but, given the current state of global confusion, it has been anything but fun. I have, in fact, worked out some fairly interesting new places to visit, though, of course, I am not sure whether all of those will work out, or not. Looking at the map on the Home page will reveal where this new section began, but I will wait until later to write about that. Suffice it to say that in October of 2020 I expected to be gazing out over the Pacific, fit and strong after a demanding transcontinental tour. Instead, I am looking at the Atlantic, perpetually trying to regain my conditioning after several months containing numerous unplanned periods of inactivity. The troubles of this year have also strained my accounts tremendously. As of now, I probably have enough resources to continue through the end of the year, which could allow me to make it to several worthwhile places, though, unfortunately, for that, too much air travel will likely be required. After that, I might be willing to overspend a little to continue a little longer, especially if it looks like it might be possible to salvage one or two of my original destinations. Whatever happens, I will try to make sure the World2 Tour doesn’t simply end with a whimper. As always, time will tell.