We had a great breakfast among Afghan and Pakistani expats in a little restaurant near our hotel. Fresh bread, good coffee and tea all for 7 dirham (less than $3 NZ). Nina wisely ordered a second helping of flat bread to help us through the day should things not go to plan.

The Iranian embassy was a breeze – half an hour wait and we got our passports with the long desired visas back. We also met another overlander waiting there with us. He actually came from Iran with his family in a big truck but was now in the process of organizing to go back. His story was heartbreaking and another reminder that you just can’t plan for all that can happen on the road.

By the time we dropped off our rental car back at the airport, we had gotten an email status update on the bike. Unfortunately, it was a bit nondescript. Last night we were told it would take at least until noon to get it ready for pick up. Not sure what to do we decided on the half way solution of chilling for another hour and then getting over there to pick it up (which later turned out to have been a bad idea).

We knew that the bike needed to be picked up from cargo village further towards the inner city from the passenger terminal but we had no idea how far it would be. In the end, we decided on public transport because of our bags. After waiting 20 minutes on the right bus, we found out that it was only 5 minutes away. In the bus, I also landed my first cultural faux-pas by plonking down in the women and family section of the bus without realizing it. Another expat in the bus was kind enough to explain and I moved to the back of the bus before collecting a fine.

After wandering a bit in the massive area, we found ourselves in the equally massive customer service area of Emirates SkyCargo. We did not know whether or how much additional fees we would need to pay. 250 dirham was painful but still ok. After that we wandered conveniently over just across the corridor to the Emerati customs office to complete the import formalities.

This is where things went wrong for us. I knew that the U.A.E. is a carnet country and had all our documents ready. What I had not found out in time was that for us to be able to clear customs, I had to have insurance for the bike. The customs officer kindly directed us to a place in the next building where we could browse the internet to try and get Rocinante insured. It was made harder by the fact that we chose not to buy a SIM card for the two days in Dubai (we will sure never make that mistake again). We spent an hour but no insurance I found was willing to insure a non-resident. Defeated, we therefore went back to the customs officer. He was able to help us out and got us in contact with an insurance broker that would sell us one month worth of insurance.

From there, unfortunately, it took us almost two hours to get to the place where we could buy the insurance. In a series of follies we walked with all our luggage back to the terminal, did not find free WiFi, bought a SIM but realized that activation would take three hours, spent even more money on WiFi and finally hopped into a taxi to what we hoped would be the insurer’s office, with 40 minutes to go before they would close at 4 pm. Luckily, it was close to the airport and we got there in time.

Staff was lovely there and when one of the assistants heard about what we were doing, we got interviewed in-depth to the entertainment of all reception staff. This, together with the insurance certificate really lifted our spirits when we hopped into a taxi back to the Cargo Village.

This time we had all the required documents, but it was getting late. There had been a shift change in the meantime and the new customs officer got right to work. As often on our trip, we realized soon that we were the big exception in the way we travel. Having to deal with carnets does not seem to happen often. After the initial paperwork and payment of another 35 dirham, we were directed to the warehouse for a final inspection and to collect the stamps in the carnet.

After all was said and done, the warehouse foreman looked at me and asked where my pick-up transport would be to get the bike delivered to. When I pointed at the bike he was confused, but soon I could get across that I was indeed intend on assembling the bike and riding it out. They dropped the pallet with the bike on an empty space outside and I got to work.

Nina’s worries that we would not be able to put the bike together were quickly dispersed. A bunch of warehouse workers were eager and helpful in uncrating and assembling the bike. By the time we finished, it was quarter to seven and the sun was about to set. What should we do?

I was keen on getting on the road. After putting Lina and Michael’s address into the GPS, I even thought we should stick with our initial plan and ride there all the way. After all, it was only 230 km. The only uncertainty was if the border would be open all night. Riding in the dark was far less of an issue. We saw from the plane that all major highways are lit at night.

We rode out of the Cargo Village and stopped at the next petrol station to fill up. The attached Pizza Hut provided the long overdue dinner and a chance to check with Lina regarding the border. By now, our phone was activated and we had 3G – wohoo! The border turned out to be open 24/7, so by 7.15 pm we were finally on our way (we planned to leave at 2 pm).

Just as we were finally cruising on the motorway, another issue came up. The ABS light was on and I suddenly realised why: The front sensor was not working … because I put the front wheel in the wrong way. So we pulled over in front of some car wash places and with the help of some volunteered Indian expats flipped the front wheel around in record time.

The road was smooth, in perfect condition and well lit.

We made it to the U.A.E. border in a little bit more than an hour. Leaving took a bit of time since we only found out after getting our passport stamped that the customs check point was actually before the immigration one.

Next up was Oman. The visa on arrival was straight forward – if a little painful for our strained wallets at this point. We decided to play it safe and went for the 30 day visa instead of the 10 day one. One last check of our bike insurance and we finally made it through at 11.45 pm.

Knackered but happy we arrived at our friends’ place. With just a hint of terror, we pushed the door bell of the flat we thought would be the right one. Luckily, regarding that it was 12.30 am, it was the right one. We got a warm welcome and collapsed soon after into an incredibly comfortable bed …