The Day Started. . .

Like any other day. Bacon and eggs for breakfast, along with a bowl of delicious fresh fruit. I loaded the bike and found the road to Baku without trouble. Some pretty countryside along the way, a little road construction, but nothing bad. Even traffic was reasonable. 

I got to the border when expected and the line was short. I thought I'd spend maybe 45 minutes to an hour getting through and into Azerbaijan. 

Getting out of Georgia was about as expected. The vanity plate threw them again, and I will never ride in a non-English speaking country with vanity plates again. But I cleared passport control and customs, and was out of Georhia. Since I was ahead of schedule, I thought I would stop at the duty free shop and use the WC. The bike stuttered and quit before I got there. I thumbed the starter, nothing. I looked at the instrument panel (the collection of idiot lights) and there was nothing there. Nor was there an odometer reading. This looked bad. 

A significant issue was I was between countries. I had left one, but not been admitted to the other. Another significant issue was the heat/sun. The language barrier came into play, as did the distance and the fact the last 100 meters was uphill. Finally, I've been dealing with diarrhea for the last 4 days, and hadn't realized the toll it has taken on my hydration level. 

Without getting into all the details, the Azerbaijan customs people finally got involved and started helping when I couldn't push any further and the bike fell over. They took care of me for a few hours until I recovered, and then I cleared passport control and customs, and bought my liability insurance. 

Then I had to push the bike again to a place to try and fix it. I took seat and cowling off, etc., checked wiring, fuses, connections. I tried all I could do without a multimeter. Nothing. I'm thinking now that the heat just killed the battery. I'll know more tomorrow. 

I buttoned it back up and started relapsing. The push now was downhill, so I coasted. The guard at the gate wouldn't let me go because customs forgot to give me a slip of paper. I parked the bike, walked up the hill, got the paper, and was finally released. It was 4:00. I got to the border around 11:30. 

Once out, I duck-walked the bike to the end of the parked taxis. Using pictograms and google translate, I was able to explain that I needed a truck and the moto was dead. One called a truck for me, and then they put me in the shade and gave me water and apples. 

It was pretty rough again for awhile, but eventually the truck showed up, we got it loaded (a story in itself) and headed for Ganja, 135 km, three hours, and $120 away. 

I arrived at the Vego Hotel, and was greeted by the manager, who had come out to meet me and to help unload the bike. With the truck driver, me, the manager, and 4 bell boys, it was off the truck and unloaded in no time. 

So here I am in Ganja, where I will stay two nights to recover and get the moto running. I have to improve my hydration plan.