The Tajik border post over the summit of the Kyzlart-pass was deserted like it’s Krgyz counterpart. I wheeled my bike around the locked barrier to get in. The area appears to be a random collection of huts in a mud bath. The first hut I came to had someone in and they checked and stamped my visa. I ride on to the the exit gate. Just as I am weaving around the barrier someone comes running out shouting from a nearby hut. I have to go back and they check my passport again. I think I missed customs, but they did not bother to check any of my bags. Up on the high mountains the scenery is a barren moonscape. Little dust devils where whipping up along the side of the track. The state of the road prevents a fast descent but the road improves as you descend from the exposed high pass. There is a second much shorter climb before dropping down to Lake Karakul. It seemed to take forever to get around lake Karakul to Karakul village. I met a group of cyclist going in the other direction. They were heading for a place to camp, but recommended Sadat Homestay, so this is where I headed. I was sure glad to have arrived. The homestay were very welcoming and provided lots of tea and sugar and several bowls of the local soup and the crusty round loaves of bread. The homestay even had a hot shower. A small stove in a little outhouse heated a tank of water mounted on bars above head level. A tap at the side led directly to a shower head. There was even mobile phone coverage. Each village has a small solar and battery powered GSM mast that supports voice and text messages. Between Karakul and Murghab lies the Akbajtal Pass, the highest on my trip at 4655 m. There was the option of a yurt stay at the start of the climb. As I had a cross-wind rather than the headwind I was expecting and it was still early I continued up and over. I got over the climb in good time but the last few miles into Murghab where a real drag. Although slightly downhill I was now pedalling into a strong headwind. With hindsight I should have stopped, broken out the stove a cooked up some pasta and a soup mix for a boost of carbohydrate. When I eventually arrived at the Murgarb hotel I dumped my bags in the room and went straight for something to eat. I was offered mutton. This was what you might call rustic style, large chunks of sheep on the bone. There were many cyclists and travellers in the hotel, but all going in the other direction.
I couldn’t decide whether to go straight along the Pamir highway or drop down to the Wakhan corridor. I met cyclist that had come both ways. In the end, as I was a bit worried I still seemed to have a long way to go, I took the more direct route sticking to the Pamir highway. After dropping down off the high ground I stayed at Jelondy. This is known locally for its hot springs. There are a number of hotels and guest houses all with hot pools fed from the natural springs which are supposed to be good for your health. I realised I had not followed the directions correctly to the hotel I was recommended as I could see the landmark of the big transformer down the way out of my window from the guest house. I should have taken the track that stayed down close to the river. Never the less, my hosts were friendly, although language was a bit of a problem. There was one slight flaw. They were also using the hot spring water to feed the central heating. However, they did not seem to have installed a shut off valve, so the radiators were full-on despite it being summer which was somewhat hot.
I liked the irrigation systems. These were especially noticeable dropping down to Korog. Clean water from a mountain stream is fed along above the houses. I used these a few times to fill up my bottles. Toilets are positioned below the houses.
In Khorog I stayed at the Pamir Lodge. This was said to be the only place in town with Wi-Fi and I wanted to back up my pictures from the preceding week. Probably for this reason it was full of Europeans, a couple of cyclists and many trekkers. From Khorog I followed the Afghan border north for a couple of days. At this point I suffered a technical failure. The bearings in my right hand pedal completely failed and the pedal came off the spindle. I tried just packing the pedal with grease, however, the spindle is tapered and any slight push on the pedal would cause it to slide straight of the end. As the road was quite undulating and ruff I needed the support and power of two pedals. I had to procure a ride from one of the local taxi-bus drivers into Dashanbe as I did not think that I would be able to get any kind of pedals, even flat plastic ones locally. Base-camp sent out the pedals off my other bicycle that was parked at their house. A brand new set of pedals was then ordered and sent ahead for me to catch up with at Bukhara in Uzbeckistan. DHL to the rescue again.
I carried camping equipment on my trip until I reached Europe. For the Osh - Khorog leg I also carried food and a days worth of water. In the mountains you can never be sure what the weather will do so it is essential to go prepared to spend a night out even if the intention is to go light and fast between villages. As it happened, I was lucky and managed Sary Tash – Karakul; Karakul – Murgarb; Murgarb – Alichar; Alichar – Jelondy; Jelondy – Khorog without having to camp at the base of the passes. As a solo traveller it is nice to have the company that comes with staying in a homestay and you get a better night sleep. Having said that I passed people going in the other direction most days with the intention of camping at the base of the passes in order to tackle the climb first thing in the morning, so if you picked a good spot with a bit of shelter and water others may well turn up.
I had 10 days in Dushanbe. Mostly this was sitting around waiting for visas. The organisation of the Uzbeck Embassy was truly bonkers. Uzbeck and Tajik nationals have to find who has “the list” and get their name down for an appointment. The system doesn’t work at all and there is this huge crowd pushing and shoving around the doors. Foreigners don’t need an appointment. The trick is to catch the eye of the guard and wave your passport in the air which is a different colour to everyone else’s. You can then shove your way to the front and get inside. It helps when you are taller than the locals.
Quite a lot of money has been spent on Dushanbe. Rather more than in the rest of the country where the infrastructure is decidedly poor. Plenty of money seemed to have been found for statement projects around the National palace.
When I tried to leave the country I was asked to produce a stamped entry permit. I had not been issued with this at the Kyrgyzstan border. On checking my visa notes, it seemed this should not be necessary for stays less than 30 days. However, the guard was insistent. Normally I would stand my ground and just make a nuisance of myself until the end of their shift. In this case, I still had many miles to go and my other pedal had just broken, so I was going to lose more time whilst I put the plastic pedal I had obtained in Duschanbe back on. I carry a few $10 dollar notes in my day wallet to cope with such situations. I initially offered $10, but the guard clocked the other $10 bill in the wallet so I ended up giving a $20 bribe. For exactly this reason I keep the bulk of cash hidden away in the panniers.