From Finland to Japan: Driving deep into Central Asia – crossing the Stans
Over the past two months, our campervan journey from Finland to Japan has taken us deep into Central Asia – through deserts, mountain passes, and ancient Silk Road cities, along some of the most surreal roads we’ve ever driven. It’s now been over 200 days, 25 countries, and 30,000 kilometers on the road.
For anyone dreaming of following in our tracks: most of the Stans are visa-free for Finns – Kazakhstan (30 days), Uzbekistan (30 days), Tajikistan (30 days), and Kyrgyzstan (60 days). Only Turkmenistan requires a visa and a government-approved guide if you’re traveling with your own vehicle.
With that out of the way, let’s go back to where we left off – the Mangystau region of Kazakhstan.
Kazakhstan
Kazakhstan – where the ocean turned to desert
Our Central Asian chapter began in western Kazakhstan, in the Mangystau region – once the bottom of an ancient sea. Today it’s a vast desert of cliffs, canyons, and rock formations sculpted by wind and time. And the camels… there were more than we could ever count.
We spent our last days in Kazakhstan in Aktau preparing for the next border. We scrubbed our van spotless after hearing cars must be clean when entering Turkmenistan. But the road there tested both patience and suspension – what should have been a two-hour drive turned into eight, with potholes deep enough to swallow a wheel. And no, the van did not stay clean.
Turkmenistan
Turkmenistan – welcome to another planet
Turkmenistan greeted us with heat, Soviet-era roads, and plenty of rules. Traveling here means joining an organized tour – you can’t move freely, at least not with your own car. Our four-day trip (including guide, permits, hotels, meals, and, well… a few “extra fees”) came to around €2,000. Expensive, yes, but truly once in a lifetime.
We had originally planned to visit Uzbekistan first, but the western border with Kazakhstan was closed, so Turkmenistan became our only way forward.
Ashgabat, the capital, holds the Guinness World Record for the most white-marble buildings. Every car must also be white, so our light-grey van wasn’t allowed inside. The city looked surreal – gold-trimmed towers, spotless facades, eight-lane roads, perfectly aligned LED lights, and hospitals shaped like what they treat: a tooth for dentistry, a mirror for plastic surgery. Ashgabat was magnificent, spotless, and strangely calm – almost staged. People were friendly and proud, and the city radiated safety.
Heading east, the roads quickly crumbled again. Twice we had to detour because the road simply didn’t exist anymore, and twice locals stopped to pull us out of sand dunes. Help is never far away here. Roads can be painfully slow, but at least fuel is incredibly cheap. A full tank costs less than €8.
Deciding whether to linger or move on quickly became part of the rhythm. At first, weighing every option felt draining, especially in places we knew nothing about. But over time, we learned to trust a mix of planning and gut feeling.
The highlight of Turkmenistan was the Darvaza gas crater, the “Door to Hell” – a man-made fiery pit that’s been burning since 1971. Standing at its edge under a starry sky, with flames lighting up the desert, was unforgettable.
After four surreal days, it was time to cross into Uzbekistan.
Uzbekistan
Uzbekistan – Silk Road magic
After the strict rules of Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan felt like freedom. The border took barely an hour, and we were suddenly surrounded by endless cotton fields – one of the country’s biggest industries.
We followed the Silk Road through Khiva, Bukhara, Samarkand, and finally Tashkent. Each city had its own rhythm. Khiva’s walled old town was our favorite – small enough to wander by foot. Bukhara buzzed with madrassas and bazaars, its streets alive with history. Samarkand felt grand and regal, and its famous Registan Square left us speechless – especially at night during the light and music show. Tashkent, a modern capital of millions, offered vibrant cafés and restaurants where we indulged in endless plates of plov (Uzbek rice dish) and shashlik (grilled meat skewers).
In Bukhara, our van also joined the adventure. After Turkmenistan, we noticed the right front tire leaking oil – turns out the shock absorber was broken. There are no Fiat parts in the country, but the local mechanics rebuilt it from scratch. In Finland, they’d replace it. In Uzbekistan, they fix it, with a smile.
Our final night was spent at the Uzumfermer Vineyard – the only official camper spot in all of Central Asia. There we reunited with old friends and met new ones, and together decided to tackle the legendary Pamir Highway in Tajikistan, one of the highest drivable roads in the world.
tajikistan
Tajikistan – high roads, higher peaks, and almost Afghanistan
The legendary Pamir Highway climbs to 4,660 meters, hugging the Afghan border through deep valleys and remote mountain villages. To drive it, you need a special permit – easy and inexpensive to get (around €8). Mainly so authorities can keep track of travelers on these extreme roads.
Together with our small convoy – two 4x4s, one motorhome, and us – we tackled the wild mountain tracks, camped under the stars, cooked by the fire, got stuck in sheep herd traffic jams, visited a snow leopard sanctuary, and even went ice-water swimming (no one else dared, so we became “the crazy Finns”).
We fixed each other’s cars, too. One day we broke our water tank (our friends repaired it), another day we helped clean a couple’s diesel filter at 4,000 meters. The altitude really takes its toll on vehicles – some simply can’t go on. Despite the remoteness, it always felt safe. Not only because of our Pamir family, but also thanks to the Pamiri people, who were warm, curious, and kind.
The Pamirs reminded us that the hardest roads often lead to the most beautiful places. By the end, we reached the border of Kyrgyzstan – another climb to 3,500 meters and another new country.
Fun fact: Tajikistan often ranks among the safest countries in the world – and it truly felt that way.
kyrgyztan
Kyrgyzstan – a bucket-list month
Descending from the Pamirs into Kyrgyzstan felt like exhaling – breathing came easier again at lower altitudes.
Our first stop was Sary-Tash, where we said goodbye to a travel friend continuing to China – a popular crossing point – while the rest of us drove to Osh, Kyrgyzstan’s second-largest city. There we finally took a break: cleaning and fixing the van, washing clothes, and enjoying the same €3 hotel breakfast every morning.
After a few days, we hit the road again. This time with new Dutch friends we’d met in Osh. We drove along the Naryn Valley and ended up at Toktogul Lake, where it felt like summer. Its turquoise, lukewarm water and soft mountain air were pure magic. Some say the lake is warmed by hot springs – it sure felt like it.
Next came Bishkek, the capital. Time for a dose of city life. We swapped mountain dust for lively markets, good restaurants, and even squeezed in a round of golf at Kyrgyzstan’s only golf course.
Then came one of our favorite moments – true bucket-list stuff: a 2-day horse trek to Son-Kul Lake. Riding through 3,500-meter mountain passes, sleeping in yurts, and waking up to sunrise over alpine peaks was a dream come true. It was just how we like it – authentic and unpolished. No one spoke English, and no one told us how to ride the horses. Perfect.
After the trek, we reunited with our Dutch friends and continued around Issyk-Kul Lake, visiting surreal places like Mars Canyon, Fairytale Canyon, and even an old Soviet uranium mine. Finally, craving colder air and snow, we climbed to the Arabel Pass at 3,800 meters and camped by Arabel Lake, where Pete got his first ski turns of the season.
Kazakhstan
Looping back to Kazakhstan
Then it was time to say goodbye to Kyrgyzstan and head back to Kazakhstan. This time, we crossed the border in the east to explore turquoise lakes and deep canyons. We visited Kaindy Lake and even rented a Soviet-era Buhanka van for the rough roads. A highlight, especially for the boys behind the wheel.
Then came the canyons: Charyn, Black, and River Canyon, and now we’re spending our last days in Kazakhstan discovering Almaty, the vibrant mountain city, before crossing into China.
Finding home on the road
Two months across the Stans have changed us. What once felt surreal now feels normal. Our “road family” has grown, and whenever we meet another camper out here – which doesn’t happen often – it feels natural to say hello. Instantly, you’re connected, comparing routes and planning the next stretch together. Sharing the highs, lows, and breakdowns makes everything better. It feels safe. Like home.
The biggest surprise? How safe it has felt. Many travelers agree – being a vanlifer in Central Asia often feels safer than in Europe. No worries about theft, no fear of break-ins.
One thing is certain: the Stans won’t stay this quiet for long. In a few years, this region will be buzzing with travelers, and we feel lucky to have seen it now, before the crowds.
Now, as we prepare for one of the most challenging parts of our trip, the China border crossing, we’re ready. It’s not a regular crossing… It means guides, permits, translated licenses, and layers of bureaucracy. But that’s all part of the adventure. China, here we come – a new chapter ahead!
Let's Get Social
Follow their journey to see where they're headed and what they’re up to:
@muoniovaara & @pete_pattis