Distance: 81km
Elevation: 326m
Alat: https://maps.app.goo.gl/FEJBvhXE62MthenDA?g_st=ic
During my office day, I managed to get out for a walk. The Old City of Baku — officially called Icheri Sheher, which means “Inner City” — is surrounded by a well-preserved medieval city wall. It sits right in the middle of Baku. You can walk there in minutes from the modern city centre.
On this tour, I got fascinated by caravanserais and there crucial role for the Silk Road. There were several of them in Baku and you can still see them. Some are used as carpet shops or craft shops today. They are beautiful old buildings, fully integrated into the architecture of the Old City.
A caravanserai was a roadside inn. Merchants travelling the Silk Road could stop there to sleep, eat, water their animals, and store their goods. They were spaced roughly 30 to 40 kilometres apart — about one day’s travel by camel. That was not an accident. Someone planned that.
This is what struck me: in order to build and maintain that network, rulers from different countries, with different languages and different interests, had to cooperate. The caravanserais did not stop at borders. The network crossed them. That level of coordination, across such vast distances, is remarkable for any era. For the medieval period, it is extraordinary.
The Silk Road was not a single road. It was a network of routes connecting China to the Mediterranean. Some people who travelled it were adventurers. But most were traders. They were people who wanted a better life. They moved goods — silk, spices, glassware, horses — and in return they made money. That was the engine. On one side: access to exotic goods. On the other: access to profit.
The leaders who made that network possible understood something important. Trade creates wealth for everyone. That insight allowed them to set aside rivalry and build something larger than any one of them could build alone.
For me, the Silk Road is one of the earliest signs of what we would now call globalisation. It connected cultures. It moved not just goods but ideas, religions, and technologies across the known world.
I asked ChatGPT to create a visual representation of the Silk Road network.
Claude Overview: The Silk Road
The Silk Road was not one road. It was a network of routes used by traders for more than 1,500 years, from when the Han dynasty of China opened trade around 130 BCE until 1453 CE, when the Ottoman Empire closed off trade with the West. The overland routes stretched roughly 6,400 kilometres, originating in Chang’an — modern Xi’an — in central China, running west along the Great Wall, through Afghanistan, and on to the Levant and Anatolia. From there, goods were shipped across the Mediterranean.
The name “Silk Road” was coined by German geographer Ferdinand von Richthofen in 1877. The goods that moved along it were not only silk. From China went silk westward; from Rome went wools, gold, and silver eastward. China also received Christianity and Buddhism via these routes. Ideas, religions, and technologies crossed continents alongside the merchandise.
Caravanserais played a crucial role in keeping this network alive. These large inns were designed to accommodate travelling merchants — offering food, rest, and safety for the next stage of the journey, while also allowing traders to exchange goods and meet other travellers. They were generally located about a day’s journey apart, to prevent merchants and their valuable cargoes from spending nights exposed on the road. The network of caravanserais stretched from China to the Indian subcontinent, the Iranian Plateau, the Caucasus, Turkey, and as far as North Africa, Russia, and Eastern Europe. Many still stand today.
Some caravanserais were state-funded, reflecting the interest of rulers in facilitating trade and collecting taxes. Others were established through private patronage or religious foundations. Either way, maintaining the network required cooperation between rulers across vast distances and different political systems. That cooperation was not idealistic. It was pragmatic. Trade generated revenue. Everyone along the route had an interest in keeping it safe.
The Silk Road played a central role in facilitating economic, cultural, political, and religious interactions between the Eastern and Western worlds. It was, in that sense, an early form of globalisation — driven not by governments or ideals, but by merchants who simply wanted to make a living.
On the next day, I got up early. I had some leftover office work to finish. I usually need two nights of sleep before my brain is fully back in detail mode. That mode is needed for financial transactions and tasks that require close attention. By 8:30, I had finished everything. Breakfast done. Rosinante packed. We were on the road.
The guesthouse was run by a group of guys. It was a former flat of a wealthy Doctors family in a pre-Soviet building, over 100 years old. The stairs and the floor featured inlays (Intarsien). Beautiful, in that faded, worn way.
The place had no female touch whatsoever. A proper „Männer-WG“. In the morning, the kitchen smelled of cigarettes. Empty glasses of chai and raki were still standing on the table. When I left, the host was still asleep in the kitchen.
Azerbaijan has on average only 30 rainy days per year. Today was one of them. But it was warm which made it less of an issue.
For an unknown reason Komoot was not properly working here so I switched to Maps. I navigated away from the big coastal highway and avoided the worst sections. Cycling was relaxed. The road was flat. The shoulders were manageable.
In my way, I passed by several oil drilling operations of different size. It is the backbone of Azerbaijan‘s prosperity.
My biggest fear was simple: what if the freight ship had just left? According to reports in my Silk Road WA group, I could be waiting for up to three days for the next one.
I pushed on and reminded myself not to overdo it. At lunch, I stopped for a döner.
A young boy serving the food came and sat at my table. We had a short conversation in basic English. He was very outgoing and friendly. Firm handshake for a small guy.
While I was eating, a small accident happened outside. Two cars had bumped into each other. A group of men gathered around, discussing what happened.
On the last kilometers, out of nowhere a large barking dog was chasing me. I probably had spooked him and he was now spooking me. The shoulder was slim and trucks were going by fast. I screamed as loud as I could to get rid of the tension inside me and continue to cycle in a straight line. Eventually the dog stopped the pursuit.
Then I had finally arrived at the port.
Around the port area — the Alat Port of Baku — all my bags were searched. After some waiting time I could buy my ticket and was brought into a waiting hall.
My ship, Mercury 1, would depart today I was told. Yeah! While I waited, I used one of the bunk beds in the hall to have a nap. I was the only passenger.
Later I ventured out to find a market hidden somewhere within the large port area. After some searching, I found it. A man approached me in Russian and asked if I was the German cyclist. He turned out to be a truck driver living in Astana, the capital of Kazakhstan. His name was Igor. He was a cyclist too and had a cycling tattoo on his arm. He had friends in Germany. Among other places, in Wiesloch — the town where my wife comes from. Very cool.
Around seven in the evening, I was on a video call with Carolin. I had started planning my journey back home and we were discussing options.
A security officer appeared. He said „dawai“ in Russian. Something like “let’s go.” I was escorted by car, past a long line of trucks, cargo and freight wagons, through two passport control points. The officers checked my documents carefully. Every bag went through an X-ray machine. Everyone was friendly. We communicated with hands, feet, and Google Translate. There was always at least one person who spoke a little English.
One crew member on the ship asked for my Instagram account so he could follow me. We wheeled Rosinante into the large cargo bay. The bay was still mostly empty. I wondered how long it would take to fill. And when exactly the ship would leave.
A customs official collected my passport. He wanted to see all documents and looked very serious. Then he lightened up and asked if he could do a test drive on Rosinante. It was fun to watch.
I carried my bags up a very steep staircase to the passenger deck. People on the ship gave me hand signals to show where to go. I followed a hallway to what served as the reception. Two Kazakhstani women were sitting there. They mumbled between themselves about what to do with the one tourist. Then one of them led me down another corridor.
She offered me to give me a cabin just for myself. In exchange she wanted some money. I tried different bills. She gestured“more, more.” Eventually we settled on 30 Manat. That is roughly 15 euros. The overall passage was 70€.
I would have accepted sharing a cabin with others. But I did not hate the idea of being alone. It was warm. I was dripping with sweat. I went for a shower.
Afterwards, the ladies at reception told me to hurry for dinner. Dinner was a soup, chicken with potatoes in gravy, fermented vegetables, a pear lemonade, and coffee. It didn’t look great but it wasn’t bad.
Truck drivers were eating with me in the dining room. Some sat together. Others sat alone. I wondered where everyone else was. But then again, there were not many trucks in the cargo bay yet. I counted around 30 to 40 people on the ship in total. Unfortunately, Igor was not among them. He must have been on a different ship.
After dinner, I walked around the deck to get a sense of the ship. It is a working cargo ship. No Wi-Fi. No bar. No shop. There is a cafeteria where you can get tea and take a cookie. Everything else is either cabins for crew and passengers or it is locked up.
Upon arrival at the ship, I had been told the ship would not depart for another twelve hours. There was bad weather ahead. So we stayed in port through the night. Probably it was also so that more trucks could still roll onboard. The bed was not the most comfortable one but it was a bed in a cabin which I had all to myself. And there were showers with warm water. And there was electricity. I was truly thankful that I did not have to spent the night in the waiting hall at the port.
Learnings of the day:
You can’t push a river. The vessel did not leave port. My journey home was still too uncertain to plan. I noticed the old tendency creeping in — the urge to take control, to fix the timeline, to make something happen. I had learned meanwhile that this only creates unnecessary effort, trouble and cost. I resisted my craving for control and refrained from booking anything.