It's been quite a while since my last update. Lots of things have happened, but I just couldn't spare any time for writing you all any sooner. As there has been such a tremendous lot of events in the last couple of weeks, I have decided to split it all up into two postings; in some two weeks from now I will finish the story that I will start right here.
In the last update I concluded with being faced with deciding on how to continue my route. The answer is the end I decided to go for exploring Tajikistan. Riding along one of the highest roads in the world, extreme altitudes and snow. The Attic of the World, otherwise known as the Pamir Highway. But I'll get to that later.
After a great stay with Monbinjon in Bukhara, I set aim for Samarqand. Along boring flat roads, that interestingly enough exactly resemble the way I thought Uzbekistan would look like. Endless fields, green, flat and fertile, a strong contrast to the Turmen desert. Of course I also got some chance to enjoy a wonderful headwind, as that's just part of the game. Police officers can be annoying at times (demanding a search through my unguilty luggage), but extremely nice just moments after (pouring countless cups of tea and handing out free tomatoes).
Via Sharkrisabiz, birthplace of Tamerlane, and built up with some interesting ruins, across wonderful mountains, a present on my father's birthday, going downhill with muddy rims and bouncing water bottles, down to Samarqand.
Samarqand is magic, just like a fairy tale. Right in the centre of town stuffed with imposing constructions, madrassas and other religious buildings, all in a similar azure-blue motive, decorated with jumping tigers and golden domes. Amazing tombs and Bibi Miriam's palace, who once seduced the chief engineer, which made here furious husband decide all muslim women should wear a scarf.
In Samarqand I met French cyclist Jean Francois and Danish Leo. Besides that, also Karin, the motorbike-girl I previously met in Iran, turned up. The crazy people always meet, is what I was thought in Shahrishabz, so once I arrived in Tashkent to arrange some visas for onward travel, I also bumped into Stefaan and Tara again.
My final visas before entering a half-year period of relative freedom, didn't cause me too much trouble, once I figured out the way the not too friendly Chinese consul was working. Within two days, my passport contains a couple of new stickers that allow me to visit Tajikistan, Kyrgistan and China.
In the meanwhile I am taken great care off by the employees of a pharmaceutical company in the Uzbek capital. On their expenses I am transferred into a four star hotel, which serves the most extensive breakfast I have had in quite a while. All day long I am kept company. In the hospital I bare witness of a heart surgery (conducted with Dutch medical devices they tell me proudly), I am guided through the city on my quest for buying some warmer clothes, and every night again a superb culinary experience. Unfortunately the concept 'restaurant' is seen a bit differently in these countries; music or entertainment always go on full volume, so starting a conversation is close to impossible. The icing on the cake comes upon my departure: fearing I might get cold in Tajikistan I am given an enormous traditional Uzbek coat, one of the coolest gifts I have ever been given.
Finally in possession of the necessary documents, it's time to pack and go. Together with Leo I head for Tajikistan. Wow, what a great country! Rough roads, pure scenery and beautiful people. The Seven Lakes, Iskanderkul and the Anzob pas, the first couple of days I spend riding with a wide open mouth, cause by both amazement and extreme exercise. Spectacular, and along the melting glacier rivers which are finding their muddy ways down over the road and gasping for breath climbing over a over three thousand meters high mountain pas to Dushanbe.
Leo and I need some time to get used to each other, and due to a difference in riding speed we loose each other after a couple of days. Too bad, let's ride alone again in that case. The people I see along the road don't look very healthy, it seems like they suffer some kind of malnutrition or maybe even some sort of poisoning. However, the water tastes just fine to me, and it is still relatively easy to get hold of enough vitamins down here. I enjoy of everything I see around me, and camp in a deserted field on the other side of a river that has been bridged by means of a rusted door.
In Dushanbe I go looking for Sussie, who invited me to visit her. An American girl working for an NGO, two years younger than me, but already in command of several projects in Afganistan and Tajikstan. Finding her causes some trouble, since I arrive on a sunday night and quite some time after sunset. Her neighbours happen to be just as hospitable as Sussie herself though, so I end up staying with them for a night as well.
After a couple of days of wonderful relaxation in Dushanbe (and of course an other meet up with Stefaan and Tara, who are getting more and more serious in changing their backpacks for a couple of bikes sometime soon), it's time to head off again. Following the advise everyone has been giving me, I will ride along the 'new road' to Khorog, that is supposed to be a lot better than the normal road east.
To save some time I decide to take a taxi to Kulyab. Organising the ride takes quite some effort, but eventually I find the owner of an old Volga, that manages to stuff my bike in his trunk. Progress is slow; getting there takes us over two times longer than the ride would normally take, and the bouncy roads cause quite some damage to the paint on my frame.
Up along the beautiful Nurek lake, and slowly down through an area planted with fruit trees. From Kulyab onwards I mount my saddle again. Slow progress, false flat uphill, spending the night in a field with some snakes.
The road slowly flows uphill, and I start hearing rumours about another cyclist that is riding along not too far ahead of me. As I am not really capable of speeding up for just that reason, I just let it be. Fried mushrooms for power food, an across another pass and into GBAO. The military are nice and correct as always, but the cops are messy once more, demanding a little 'tip' before letting me through. Forget about that, instead I just push my pedals and ride off.
The downhill starts out nice and slow, but gets quite rough soon after. Big loose rocks on the road and down through a narrow gorge. Time to close my brake pads and enjoy. Then, the scenery opens up, and I get a view upon Afganistan. So close, yet so far away. Beautiful and the same, but not quite, and kept away from me and my bike by just a 20 meter wide wild river.
It is said that at some point along the road there might be landmines along the road, so the thought of camping out frightens me a bit. When I arrive to a small eatery after crossing a couple of bridge-less rivers, I find myself looking into a familiar face.. Leo! We end up camping on a wonderful spot, next to the local toilet (never mind the smell), and Leo announces me he would like to ride on together. Something I wasn't expecting!
So, once more together, we head off for the Pamirs. A lot more harmonious this time, and full of awe and enjoyment for the things we see around us. Spectacular roads, rough peaks, beautiful Afganistan on the other side of the river, wide smiling soldiers carrying big Kalasnikovs, wading through knee-deep rivers, first with my bike on my back, but later on just riding through anyway, thundering waterfalls raging straight onto the middle of the road, climbs of 'eight percent', and monotonous meals of noodles and soup.
In Kaleikhum some local kid unfortunately decides to steal my sun-glasses, while some elders are drawing us a map of the mined areas along the road. All this causes explosive situations in the village, as its honour has been damaged. Police and angry parents, but even they cannot recover my glasses (which, by then, quite likely, have been offered a free swimming lesson in the local river anyway). There's no progress, and the whole thing seems to be about to escalate. Time to leave. It does suck pretty much to loose my glasses just now, while approaching the high altitude Pamirs, but nothing I can do about that.
We ride from one great camping spot to the other one, along dreadful roads and more rivers, and an odd sand dune including its own sandstorm. And then, with a painfully bouncing stomach, the river slows down and widens up as we approach Khorog. This is where it will all start.
From an approximate two thousand meter, we slowly head up. The quickest checkpoint ever, with a cab-driver bribing the cops, being accompanied by a couple of English speaking students riding bicycles, and meals of fat fish and bread. Acclimatising slowly, so a relax ride. That's the way I like it.
Within two days and riding without any trouble along smooth roads we are close to reaching 4000 meters, and we keep on going. The first pas comes at a price, the last couple of kilometers steep and unpaved, my body has to go to its most extreme limits to get up, but it pays off; the view over the permafrost area, a beautiful lake mirroring along he road and singing giant marmots around us.
The road bounces on. Painfully pushing the limit. Only loose rocks divide us from the green rolling surroundings. As night falls we reach the edge of the Pamir Plateau. Camping above four thousand meters, shivering in out tents after seven, and not being able to sleep. Feeling nauseous and upcoming diarea, but the cold causes me such an extreme and almost spastic way of shivering that ducking down to use the toilet is close to impossible.
In my lowest gear I head off again the next day; staying around here is not really an option. At our lunch stop we meet up with Stefan and Melinda, a Swiss couple that decided to spend the winter touring around in Siberia. Unfortunately we both head in different directions, and we spend the night in a traditional yurt after being invited by a Kyrgyz wearing a woolen Bianchi cap. An interesting look into the live of the people living out here, a heard of yak and goat in their 'backyard', spending summer in their tent, but in winter they prefer their warm and cosy real house.
Riding to Murgab is trouble free from now on. A slow descent, so we get there in a flash, and our surrounding start to feel normal. High that actually doesn't look too high, snowy peaks and green-brown grass growing on a salty underground. Of course I meet up with my usual group of friends again, and after of days without fruits or vegetables, we manage to find half a kilo of apricots on the market.. Yummie!!
The road climbs on to the highest point I will travel to during this trip. A nice, but not too challenging pas at 4655m. Going slowly up, and a couple of nasty hairpin turns at the top. The last couple of kilometers come unpaved, that's no problem, however there is a real tempest waiting on the other side. Strong winds, fog, and a threatening snowstorm. The road stays as bad as the last couple of kilometers up, and cursing like mad we try to transverse the miserable washboard road as quickly as possible, as camping above 4000 meters is way too cold in these conditions.
However hard we try, luck is not on our side. The road keeps on bouncing, the wind blows like mad, and it hurts everywhere. In a blowing storm and with snow beginning to fall, we manage to built our shelters, and fearing I would get cold once more in my not too good sleepingbag, Leo borrows me a nice pair of woolen jumpers.
The next morning our tents are covered in a nice layer of snow, but this comes with a perfect blue sky and the most amazing panoramas you can imagine. Wow! Maybe we came to Tajikistan just a couple of weeks to early?
The road gets quite a lot better just a couple of kilometers later, and we decide to take it easy and enjoy they company of Stefaan and Tara and the Kara Kul lake for a day. Unfortunately I also diagnose quite some play in my back hub at just this time. Nothing I can do about that now (don't have the tools), but hope to get it fixed in Kashgar, China in a couple of days.
After a for now definite goodbye to my Belgian/American friends, it is time to prepare for the final battle. The mountains that separate Tajikstan and Kyrgistan have to be crossed, and that is not an easy task. The road goes massing at times, checkpoints are closed, a strong headwind, never ending climbs and several snowstorms. Completely exhausted we finally arrive to the Tajik border post. Time to regain strength with tea, bread and sparkling water, collecting a stamp surrounded by Playboy centerfolds, clearing some snow of our bikes, and off we go.
Kyrgistan is even more fun. A rough and muddy downhill goes through a terrain that ahead of us it times more greener then with the neighbours, and behind us times whiter. Stumbling along massive rocks in a river, some more descending, followed by a magic valley at the confluence of two rivers. Steep peaks, dots of snow and a mysterious fog complete the scene.
The Kyrgyz border doesn't seem to get any closer though, and it slowly starts snowing, then some more, and yet some more. We can't see a thing, are surrounded by a couple of centimeters of fresh white pluche on our bags, and we start to get soaked. That's we the road stops and disappears in an invisible track going straight through a river. This is getting nuts.
Eventually we manage to get to the border, at times risking our live due to the fact stones on and holes in the road have gone invisible. We are allowed to warm ourselves at their stoves, but staying for the night is unfortunately not an option. So, in heavy dusk, we finally manage to make it to Sary Tash. Nice guesthouse, but a little disappointing the only thing they can cook a couple of exhausted cyclists is a simple fried egg..
From Sary Tash there is a direct road to the Chinese border. My Kyrgyz visa allowes me a couple of weeks in the country, but I'll save those for a next time. Leo is heading north for Osh, so this is where our roads divide again. Impressions on Kyrgistan: beautiful country, interesting people, come back sometime soon to explore more of the country.
Via the Irkestam pas (which I have been unable to identify), I head off to China. Awful road that is getting close to being impassable, but some ten kilometers before the border is suddenly covered with a nice black top. Costums are easy, and then, then I arrive into China!
