Vobkent's minaret is a tall brick finger rising out of a small Uzbek town on the edge of the Bukhara oasis. It was built in the late twelfth century, in the same tradition as the more famous Kalyan minaret in Bukhara, which it predates in style by a few years and rivals in elegance. Standing nearly forty metres high, it is made entirely of fired brick laid in bands of geometric patterns, with a tapering shaft and a lantern top. Up close, the craftsmanship is startling: no two courses seem quite the same.
The town of Vobkent itself, with about seventeen thousand people, is ordinary and busy in the best way, with a bazaar, tea houses and workshops. The district is known for ceramics, and in the local markets you can find bowls and plates glazed in cobalt and turquoise. There is fuel here, and food is the dependable Uzbek menu: plov, shashlik, flatbread from a clay oven, and endless green tea poured by whoever is nearest. Bukhara is about thirty kilometres away and makes a good base.
Riding in this part of Uzbekistan is flat and fast. The roads run straight through cotton fields, mulberry trees and irrigation canals, with the Kyzylkum desert never far off. Surfaces vary, so watch for patched sections and the odd bump where the earth has settled. Drivers can be unpredictable, overtaking where they should not. Further along the oasis the Varakhsha settlement, an ancient pre-Islamic site with a ruined palace, and the shrine of Bahouddin Naqshband, a major Sufi holy place, lie within easy reach.
Spring and autumn are the seasons to ride; summer afternoons can climb past forty degrees, when only the foolhardy are out. The best light on the minaret is just after sunrise or in the last hour before dusk, when the brick shifts from honey to rose. Dress modestly if you enter the mosque or mausoleum complexes nearby, and carry water. Locals will be curious about your bike and likely to offer tea, which is worth accepting.