June 9, 2023 to June 17, 2023
The Pamir Highway Pt 1. Gazing into Afghanistan and Questionable Camping
Dushanbe to Khorog
The heat was brutal at the lower altitudes out of Dushanbe and we dreamed about the cooler mountains we were so close to now. On the first day, stupidly I lost my litre bottle of olive oil which I was hoping to use for the entire journey, probably won't find any more of that in the mountains.
We stopped to wait out the mid day heat in a teahouse where kids crowded around us, trying to sell buckets of mulberries after a huge meal. Reluctantly we caved and bought some but that didn't stop them trying to give us more. I helped them out after by giving them some extra height to reach the trees, one of the kids wasn't too grateful though as he enthusiastically tried to steal my sleeping pad (jokes on him though as I got his bucket).
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Cycling on after the heat died down, I joined some more kids on the stunning road into the Pamirs and gave one a lift a few kilometres on the back of my bike, racing against the others. I think the long walk back home was less enjoyable but he had a good time.
Further down the road to Kalaikhum, a boy on a horse appears out of nowhere and joins along for the ride, taking me back to join his family for tea. We sat around a small fire and talked a little. I love the simplicity of life here, they spend the summer here occasionally moving their flock of sheep to greener pastures, the rest of the time they enjoy drinking tea with the peaceful scenery.
At one point I got excited seeing a cyclist heading towards us, it wasn't until he got closer that I realise one of the kids had snuck off with my bike whilst my back was turned. I contemplated doing the same with his horse.
The long dusty track leading to Khalikum was a delight. Progress was slow over rocky road and the long climb up the Tavildara pass, but the mountains concealed in the haze made for a magical experience (if I ignore the 3 punctures on the way up and 2 more on the way down).
Reaching the top of the pass in the late afternoon we decided to make camp here, wanting to acclimatise to the much higher altitudes further down the road. Here we met a group of shepherds, moving their flock of 2000 sheep from the Afgan border north into the mountains. It seemed there was a storm on the way but they were confident it wouldn't reach us. We admired them as they sat around on the pass, exposed to the cold wind without shelter. Nathan was also confident about the storm and camped outside whilst Seb and I cleared some rubble and sheep shit aside and pitched up in the ruins. Come midnight, the storm we feared about arrived, but even with the lightning overhead we felt ok and tried to get some sleep. Not long after, the shepherd walks in, soaking wet from the rain and with panic in his face. He wanted to urgently bring his sheep into the building we were sleeping in until the storm passed. Anticipating the pandemonium that was about to happen, I moved into Seb's room and we barricaded the entrances with our bikes. The sound of 1000+ frightened sheep and thunder outside wasn't ideal for a good sleep but they thankfully never ended up coming inside. Instead, they gathered around Nathans tent, tripping over his guy lines whilst the shepherd was chasing and screaming at the other sheep who had run off. We didn't see Nathan the next morning and couldn't find out his side of the story until we met in Khalikum, the carnage occurred for most the night and he got away as soon as the sun came up. Lesson learnt though, don't camp on the top of a pass in a thunderstorm, it isn't fun...
Agreeing with Nathan that we will hitchike this section due to all the horror stories we heard and the fact we might have to also come back the same way, we split up. He found a Van with a traveller from Austria very soon after trying and we found nothing for the rest of the day. We soon realised that the road was not as bad as people made out and we decided to instead cycle for the next few hundred kilometres to Khorog where we would re-join.
The first night we camped on the shore of the river, something we were hesitant to do but there were few alternatives. I took a bottle wash naked behind a bush and moments later we were approached by the military who had been watching us though binoculars. Obviously they weren't happy with us staying there, telling us that "a war could break out at any moment" and asked us to move into the village. They were nice for letting us finish cooking and lead us to a spot to camp in the village. We felt extremely happy to be sheltered when a huge storm broke out in the night which would have probably blown our tents into the Panj.
Cycling along this section of the Pamir Highway, only the Panj river sepperated us from the Wakhan corridor, Afganistan. It was fascinating peering over to the other side during the long days in the saddle and wondering how life is over there. The landscape looked incredibly beautiful with small isolated villages in the valleys below the towering snow-capped mountains. Life looked very simple there with little access to other villages without crossing huge passes, they seemed peaceful though and it was fun waving back to the kids as they shouted from the other side. I did feel a little uneasy seeing rows of Taliban flags along border crossings and groups of men stood near.
The next section was torn between heaven and hell. On the rare occasions the road was asphalted, we could appreciate the paradise we were in with so much greenery surrounded by the mountains to either side. For the majority of the ride though, we were faced with the worst corrugation we'd seen yet, making the uphills slow and the downhills unbearable. We were at least happy to be out of the construction area which plagued the first section with dust, in addition to the traffic and 3 hour road blocks.
Within the first couple of days here we met and joined with Adam and Masha from Canada, an fun couple on a long adventure towards Europe. We camped together on our first night on the roof of a café after the kind owner suggested we stay. The next night, a similar situation with the perfect camp ground, and same again after.
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Arriving in Khorog we rested a couple of days, eating lots of cake and catching up with Nathan who had already been here three days whilst we caught up. I also found another litre of olive oil to replace my lost bottle and the best second hand shop selling old hiking gear. Here I replaced my torn and faded shirt I've worn all year, took a ripped pair of trousers which I converted into shorts and also bought a genuine cannon camera bag for £1.
Next post, The Wakhan corridor and Murghob
Today's ride: 560 km (348 miles)
Total: 1,060 km (658 miles)
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