The Vagabond Couple with Shehzadi at Kyzyl-Kala in Khorezm, Uzbekistan, where the Silk Road route turned from tiled cities to mud-brick fortress country, desert roads, and the old canal world of the lower Amu Darya. The truck had dust. The fortress had history. We had sunscreen and optimism, both under review.

Uzbekistan began where Kazakhstan ran out of booths, and our overland route crossed from steppe dust into border heat.

The previous leg had carried us from Russia across Kazakhstan to the Keles River bridge near the Shymkent side. After the bridge came the no-man's-land, that strange border zone where countries briefly agree that travelers should belong to nobody. Shehzadi and Chetak rolled forward with Kazakh steppe dust still clinging to them, because dust is the one visa-free traveler on any Central Asia overlanding route.

The dome of the Mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yasawi filled the sky with turquoise ribs, floral tile bands, and carved script across the brick facade below. It is the kind of detail that makes a visitor stop walking, look up, and briefly forgive Timur for being a little extra.

This Kazakhstan episode continues directly from our previous Silk Road overland blog post, Russia Overland: From Georgia to Kazakhstan via Astrakhan and the Volga-Caspian Corridor. That earlier leg brought us through Russia, the lower Volga, Astrakhan, Karauzek, and the Kotyaevka/Kurmangazy border approach before Kazakhstan took over the road, the paperwork, and the livestock department.

Kazakhstan border guards warned us about cattle but undersold the two-humped department currently auditing the A-27 cutting through the Naryn-kum desert near Zaburunye. Living off their fat stores, these Bactrians have humps that aren't quite full and a total lack of concern for our schedule or the concept of right-of-way. We are headed to over 22 meters below sea-level.

This leg follows our Silk Road expedition across western and southern Kazakhstan. A complete map of the Kazakhstan leg of our quad-continental Silk Road expedition is given below for reference.

Shehzadi’s first stop inside Russia, just after Verkhny Lars border control. Russian and American flags in the same frame make for a unique moment in our journey. Behind her, the roadside shops did the essential border-town work: Russian insurance, money exchange, and hot food for travelers whose last meal had become a theory.

This Russia overland leg of our Silk Road route begins where our Turkey road ended: in Batumi, Georgia. The Black Sea run had already carried us from Cappadocia to Tokat and Ordu. From there, we drove through Trabzon and Rize. Hopa and the Sarpi border closed the Turkish side of the road.

Previous leg: Turkey Silk Road overland route to Batumi »

From Batumi, we returned to Tbilisi and took a short break.

A couple of days was enough to reset the bags and check the papers. We breathed like people who had stopped impersonating freight for a moment. Georgia was also home in the practical sense: parking, beds, food, and keys that worked.

Then we turned north.

Georgian Military Road to Verkhny Lars, in Short

From Tbilisi we took the Georgian Military Road toward Stepantsminda, Darial Gorge, and the Verkhny Lars border. We kept this part short because we had already covered the same road in detail on an earlier trip. That drive included Mtskheta, Zhinvali Reservoir, Ananuri Fortress, and Gudauri. It also covered Jvari Pass and Kazbegi. Gergeti Trinity Church and the Russian border came with the package, because the road is efficient that way.

Earlier Georgian Military Road story: Tbilisi to Kazbegi and the Russian border »

For our earlier short Silk Road excursion into Turkmenistan, the Turkmenistan Silk Road series summary is here »

This time the Georgian Military Road was not the destination. It was the approach ramp.

The mountains rose, the trucks climbed, and the Terek took over the gorge. The Darial Gate tightened around the road with cliffs above, river below, and bureaucracy ahead, which is how old mountain gates stay relevant after the invention of gasoline.

The Darial route had been old long before any modern border booth found a power outlet. It was one of the hard north-south valves through the Caucasus, linking Tbilisi and the South Caucasus with the Terek valley, Alania, the North Caucasus, and the plains beyond.

For a Silk Road journey, that mattered.

Our Russia overland route followed this northern Silk Roads fringe through the Darial Gate and the North Caucasus. Farther east, the steppe and the lower Volga-Caspian corridor carried the same logic toward Kazakhstan. This was the old business end of movement. Gates controlled it. Rivers shaped it. Ports fed it, and tolls made money from it.

Different century, same invoice.

Before we crossed, we exchanged enough U.S. dollars for the rubles we expected to need for three days and two nights in Russia. That meant fuel, food, hotels, and the small cash leaks that keep roads moving. We also made sure we carried no extra U.S. cash into Russia.

By then, Russia sat under one of the heaviest sanctions regimes in the world. Visa, Mastercard, and American Express cards issued outside Russia did not work inside the country.

Our rubles were not backup money. They were the money.

That precise little cash envelope would matter more than we knew. The road enjoys foreshadowing. It is annoying like that.

At Verkhny Lars, Russia began.

Cave Hotel in Nar, Nevşehir Merkez, Nevşehir, Cappadocia, Türkiye – Staying Inside Cappadocia’s Rock-Cut Landscape

We woke inside a rock.

After the long run down from Ankara, we had checked into Ennar Cave House in Nevşehir and gone to sleep inside the rock. Morning made the change of landscape impossible to ignore. This chapter continues directly from Turkey Silk Road Overland Part 1, where the road carried us across Thrace, Istanbul, Bursa, the Phrygian Valley, and Ankara before setting us down in Cappadocia for the next phase.

Standing in timeless silence at Gerdekkaya Anıtı, Çukurca / Seyitgazi, Eskişehir. This remarkable Phrygian rock-cut tomb, carved into the mountain centuries ago, tells a story of ancient civilizations in the heart of Turkey.

This chapter of our Silk Road journey, overlanding Turkey (map), continues directly from Sofia, Bulgaria to Turkey – Silk Road Overland, that subtle continental moment where Europe slowly loosens its grip and Anatolia leans in, folds its arms and says, "Fine. Now let's talk Istanbul, Bursa, Koza Han and the greater Anatolia properly."

Türkiye was not new to us. We had visited Istanbul and Pamukkale-Hierapolis by airplane earlier, as well as crossed the Bosporus westwards overland, tracing the Black Sea coast from Georgia and slipping into Greece, a route we documented in Overlanding Asia to Europe – Georgia to Greece. That earlier crossing left us with one of the most durable souvenirs we have ever acquired on the road: a Turkish HGS toll tag, purchased from a PTT (pronounced paa-taa-taa) office in Arhavi, still clinging loyally to Shehzadi's windscreen like a Ottoman visa that refuses to acknowledge time.

This time, however, the intent was different. We were not passing through Turkey as a logistical necessity. We were returning to it deliberately, retracing routes that humanity itself has rehearsed for thousands of years. Anatolia does not appreciate haste. It has waited out empires far more confident than us. The landscape here feels like it's judging your timeline against its own geological clock, where millennia are measured in volcanic eruptions and civilizations are just temporary tenants.

Türkiye is not a country that exists merely as a destination. It exists as a process. Roads here are not shortcuts; they are habits, worn into the land by repetition so persistent that geography itself gave up resisting. Long before borders, passports and laminated vehicle documents, people crossed Anatolia because there was no other sensible option. If you wanted to move between Europe, the Caucasus, the Middle East and Central Asia, this land quietly stood in your way and said, "Through here."

This is the first of two long chapters covering our Turkey overland segment of our quad-continental journey. Like the Silk Road, it unfolds slowly, layering meaning rather than racing for conclusions. Think of it as a conversation with the landscape rather than a checklist of sites - a dialogue conducted in kilometers, tea breaks and the occasional wrong turn that reveals something more interesting than the planned route.

"Drunken People Crossing" warning road sign near the UNESCO Boyana Church in Sofia, Bulgaria. A uniquely Balkan traffic sign that humorously reflects the region's vibrant nightlife and pragmatic approach to road safety near cultural heritage sites. This sign, while modern, stands in stark contrast to the ancient Thracian and Roman roads that once crossed this same land, where travelers might have been warned of mythical creatures like the samodivi (wood nymphs) or the zmey (dragons) of Slavic folklore instead of inebriated pedestrians.

Continuing east from Belgrade → Niš → Sofia | Silk Road Drive, this leg picks up where that one left off: at the Serbian-Bulgarian border, with Sofia and the road to Türkiye still ahead.

Departing Belgrade on our eastward trajectory, we remain firmly planted on the ancient spine of the Silk Road, tracing the historic Niš–Sofia corridor. This isn't merely a scenic detour through the Balkans; it's one of Europe's great historical funnels, a geostrategic trough that has channeled the movement of civilizations, commerce, and conquering armies for over two millennia. Long before Romans laid their sturdy stones, this route was trodden by Thracian tribes—the fierce Getae and Odrysians—who established the first kingdoms in this region and buried their kings in magnificent tumuli filled with gold treasures now displayed in Sofia's museums. The Romans, with their characteristic efficiency, later christened it the Via Militaris, a military highway connecting Singidunum (Belgrade) with Constantinople (Istanbul). Today, modern engineering has laid asphalt over those old Roman stones, and the route is officially designated the E80, but the fundamental purpose remains unchanged: moving people and goods between Central Europe and Anatolia. The journey from Belgrade to Sofia covers approximately 390 kilometers, a distance that once took Roman legions weeks but now unfolds over a single day of driving, passing through the dramatic landscapes of southeastern Serbia and into the heart of Bulgaria.

Belgrade: Where Rivers Decide History

Church of Saint Sava, Belgrade, Serbia: Ayasofya-inspired Byzantine architecture and stunning soaring dome

Having driven Shehzadi from Croatia and Bosnia into Serbia the day before, crossing the Una and visiting the Jasenovac Memorial along the way, we slept well in Belgrade at the Hotel Villa Bulevar, not too far from the Embassy of The State of Palestine Serbia.

That mattered more than it sounds.

Bridge on Una river between Croatia (right) and Bosnia & Herzegovina at Hrvatska Dubica-Kozarska Dubica Border Crossing

We had a comfortable night's sleep at Zagreb, after our long day crossing in from Venice via Slovenia's Lake Bled and Ljubljana. The morning sun rose, golden light slipping between baroque spires and red-tiled rooftops. It was the kind of morning that practically demands a flaky pastry and strong coffee—which is exactly how we started our day, perched in a café off Tkalčićeva Street. Today was another legend, we overlanded three countries on our beloved Shehzadi (meaning "the Princess") and also paid our respects at profoundly somber memorials at a horrible Yugoslav concentration camp site.

Bled Castle overlooking Lake Bled, Slovenia

The day started with a cappuccino in Venice, fresh off our Simplon Tunnel crossing, silk workshop tour and night in Piazza San Marco, our spirits as high as the tide. Shehzadi, our trusty Toyota Tundra, and Chetak, the Odyssean Journey Toyota Hilux, were humming with anticipation. Today we would not just cross one, but two international borders — three countries, a shimmering lake, a wine-soaked sunset and at least six kinds of road trip snacks.

We were headed for Slovenia, then into Croatia, in one of the most charming cross-border days of our Silk Road expedition so far. The route was postcard-perfect: Venice → Valico di Sant'Andrea → Lake Bled → Ljubljana → Maribor → Obrežje border → Zagreb.

Luigi Bevilacqua Silk Weaving Mill, Venice, Italy

We woke up in the alpine calm of our campground near Chandolin, the birds chirping, the air so fresh it could probably be bottled and sold to stressed-out city folks. After a hearty breakfast (which may or may not have included a final farewell fondue), we bid adieu to the legacy of Ella Maillart, slung our packs into Shehzadi, our ever-reliable Toyota Tundra and hit the road with our fellow adventurers Odyssean Journey in Chetak, their Toyota Hilux Invincible-X.

Sierre, Switzerland

Our heading? Italy! But not the usual boring border crossing with passport stamps and yawns. Nope. We decided to ride through the belly of the Alps — literally — on the Autoverlad Brig-Iselle car train, rocketing through the legendary Simplon Tunnel like caffeinated hobbits in pickups.