After leaving Murgab, I had a couple more days of high-altitude goodness (at this point I’d been above 3000m/10,000ft for more than a week) before descending into the Wakhan Valley.
Below: Goats are so hard to photograph. This cute kid spent about 5 minutes trying to jump over this absolutely tiny stream before he finally drummed up the gumption to go for it. It was quite possibly the cutest thing ever.
All of the goats looked like they were of completely different breeds. Some had curly hair, some straight. They came in all different colors, and the adults had horns of all lengths and curvatures.
Alichur is the last little blip of civilization, and then it’s up and over the Kargoush Pass at 4300m. It looks like this for the next two or three days:
I called this Lake Stinky. It smelled of salted rotten eggs.
Once over the pass, you roll slowly downhill dodging boulders and trying not to fall off your bike, and come out into the Wakhan Valley! This is it! That’s Afghanistan you see in the background, and the river in front of those mountains forms almost the entire border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan, and I will follow it for the next 10 days or so.
Below: When I flew to Bishkek from Delhi, at one point I looked out the window and noticed this dramatic valley between the snow-capped mountains below. Checking my GPS, it turned out we were flying right over the end of the Wakhan Valley! Below you can see most of it, although where I entered I am probably somewhere far off in the top left corner of the frame. I’ll follow that river you see all the way off to the bottom left and beyond. Pretty exciting!
I met a bunch of Russian motorcyclists along the way. Apparently it’s a thing to do a loop from Moscow or St. Petersburg, down and around the former SSRs, and back up to mother Russia. I asked every one of them if they would switch rides with me, and always got refused.
(Oh but these guys are Germans)
(Russians)
Above: A closer look at the Panj River and Afghanistan on the other side.
Below:This gigantic engine part (cam shaft?) marks the descent back to a habitable altitude, and the village of Langar.
And these shepherdlets, hanging out on the road while sort of watching their sheep.
Langar, pictured below, felt like a veritable metropolis after so long on the Pamir plateau. Look, it has trees.
Above and below: Some scenes from my homestay in Langar. Mirbowshom and his mom, the village’s babbling brook, and the local supermarket. Mirbowshom’s family has a tablet, and so we took turns showing each other family photos and stuff, and when we couldn’t seem to communicate a certain point, his mom would use her Tajik-English translation app to help.
I have to admit, the Wakhan Valley is really hyped up as this super remote, hard to access place where nobody lives, and so I was expecting it to be completely devoid of people, flora and fauna the entire way. But of course other travelers, and especially the Lonely Planet, exaggerates to make it seem cooler to go there. In fact, the Wakhan is full of healthy and hospitable people who have access to clean water, electricity, and the internet. The sudden lack of remoteness didn’t detract from how amazing it was though, thankfully…
Shepherdess showing off her goat (sheep? What’s the difference?) She dragged this thing out from the herd and basically demanded I take a photo.
Terrorists. (not)
A gang of little punks. Even these guys were the ones to ask to have their photos taken.
The ceilings of Pamiri houses look like this. It’s Ishmaili Muslim architecture with religious significance. Each layer signifies a prophet, and the skylight represents heaven.
At some point along the way, Beth and Justin caught back up with me. Here’s Beth putting away her camera with some epic scenery in the background. Most of the time it was super windy, and since there is so much sand everywhere, we were continuously pelted in the face with it, making it really hard to ride.
The Ishmailis use ram racks to denote especially spiritual places. I am probably being really irreverent right here. Also, note the 42-tooth cog on Justin’s bike. If only…
Justin and Beth, riding off into the sunset.
It seems like there wouldn’t be enough grass to feed so many animals up here…
Love at first sight. It was really interesting to see younger people bridging the gap between traditional and modern lifestyles. This young woman still works hard as a shepherdess, but look at her iphone earbuds. What’s she listening to? And the cheetah print headscarf is not traditional. I wonder if her mother approves.
Elderly fashionistas.
Do these children know they live in the most amazing place in the world? I was going to buy that kid’s Pamir trucker hat for $2, but unfortunately it was too small for my huge melon. I think these kids were mostly just coming from school. What’s in store for them? Will they all leave the Wakhan Valley for jobs in bigger cities?
Now the ground is flatter, the road better, and there are TRACTORS!
And locals with their own bicycles, not just crazy foreigners.
Towns with beautiful tree-lined avenues, and more children demanding to have their photos taken.
Camping behind a rock outcropping to shield ourselves from the wind.
And the Panj River turning golden in the sunset.
Camping, day and night. Actually, the morning I took this photo was the one time something semi-dangerous happened on this whole journey along the Afghan border. We had pitched camp right next to the river (border), and as I was packing up, two Tajik army guys with machine guns came up to me in a rush and briefly inspected my stuff and asked what i was doing. When they were satisfied that I wasn’t a threat, and made aware that I don’t speak Tajik or Russian, they began gesticulating across the river, making binoculars with their hands, and miming machine gun fire. Then they told me to hurry up and get a move on. I found out later that something had happened on the Afghan side of the border and so security was being tightened for the time being. For a few days the Tajik government also stopped issuing permits to the Gorno-Badakshan region (which contains most of the Pamir Highway) due to that incident, but I never found out what exactly happened.
More camping, this time in some kind of wind shelter.
By this time I’d separated from J&B again to detour up to Garm Chasma Hot Spring. I highly recommend it. not only did I have a nice dip, but the next morning these guys, fellow Tajik guests at my hotel, fed me a breakfast of meat and vodka, prayed for my journey (first drunken Muslim prayer I’ve ever seen), and sent me on my way. Below: Although I couldn’t take photos inside the hot spring (everyone was naked and I didn’t think they’d appreciate it), here you can see the mineral-rich overflow from the hot spring pools being shunted into the river nearby.
Annnnnnnd finally I reach Khorog, a surprisingly populous hamlet full of cute young English-speaking college girls. YES! Oh and the first fresh fruits and veggies in quite a while.
Husnich with Marks and Engels?
Above: RC Cola is the only game in town in rural Tajikistan. Below: Cool Pamiri woolen socks! You bet your socks I got a pair!
After a few rest days in Khorog, I embarked on the last leg of the Pamir Highway, the last 5 days to Dushanbe…
Above and below: I was finally able to stay in a yurt! I stayed in a few of these during my 2006 trip to Kyrgyzstan, but this time around I had yet to have the opportunity. In Kyrgyzstan, it was still a bit to early for the shepherds to have set up their high camps for the summer, and the only yurts I saw were bars where one could go for a cold glass of fermented mare’s milk. But finally, here in Alichur, a local family had set up their yurt outside their house and let me stay. Beautiful, inside and out. You can’t really see so well in the photo below, but the pattern of the bracing in the opening of the top of the yurt’s dome is the same design that is featured on the Kyrgyz national flag. Inside and out, the yurt is covered with handmade carpets to keep it wind and waterproof. It is sort of like a tent or teepee, but more substantial in that it has a really elaborate frame, as well as a wooden door frame and furniture, as well as a stove inside. Oh and even though I’m in Tajikistan now, a lot of the people are still ethnically Kyrgyz, so their lifestyles are more similar to semi-nomadic Kyrgyzstan than the rest of Tajikistan.
Below: But most families still choose to hang out in their more permanent mudbrick abodes for most of the year. It’s funny that this house is constructed almost totally from mud chopped out of the hillside nearby, except for the windows, which are prefab double-pane dealies imported from somewhere far off in China.
Below: Goats are so hard to photograph. This cute kid spent about 5 minutes trying to jump over this absolutely tiny stream before he finally drummed up the gumption to go for it. It was quite possibly the cutest thing ever.
All of the goats looked like they were of completely different breeds. Some had curly hair, some straight. They came in all different colors, and the adults had horns of all lengths and curvatures.
Alichur is the last little blip of civilization, and then it’s up and over the Kargoush Pass at 4300m. It looks like this for the next two or three days:
I called this Lake Stinky. It smelled of salted rotten eggs.
Once over the pass, you roll slowly downhill dodging boulders and trying not to fall off your bike, and come out into the Wakhan Valley! This is it! That’s Afghanistan you see in the background, and the river in front of those mountains forms almost the entire border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan, and I will follow it for the next 10 days or so.
Below: When I flew to Bishkek from Delhi, at one point I looked out the window and noticed this dramatic valley between the snow-capped mountains below. Checking my GPS, it turned out we were flying right over the end of the Wakhan Valley! Below you can see most of it, although where I entered I am probably somewhere far off in the top left corner of the frame. I’ll follow that river you see all the way off to the bottom left and beyond. Pretty exciting!
I met a bunch of Russian motorcyclists along the way. Apparently it’s a thing to do a loop from Moscow or St. Petersburg, down and around the former SSRs, and back up to mother Russia. I asked every one of them if they would switch rides with me, and always got refused.
(Oh but these guys are Germans)
(Russians)
Above: A closer look at the Panj River and Afghanistan on the other side.
Below:This gigantic engine part (cam shaft?) marks the descent back to a habitable altitude, and the village of Langar.
And these shepherdlets, hanging out on the road while sort of watching their sheep.
Langar, pictured below, felt like a veritable metropolis after so long on the Pamir plateau. Look, it has trees.
Above and below: Some scenes from my homestay in Langar. Mirbowshom and his mom, the village’s babbling brook, and the local supermarket. Mirbowshom’s family has a tablet, and so we took turns showing each other family photos and stuff, and when we couldn’t seem to communicate a certain point, his mom would use her Tajik-English translation app to help.
I have to admit, the Wakhan Valley is really hyped up as this super remote, hard to access place where nobody lives, and so I was expecting it to be completely devoid of people, flora and fauna the entire way. But of course other travelers, and especially the Lonely Planet, exaggerates to make it seem cooler to go there. In fact, the Wakhan is full of healthy and hospitable people who have access to clean water, electricity, and the internet. The sudden lack of remoteness didn’t detract from how amazing it was though, thankfully…
Shepherdess showing off her goat (sheep? What’s the difference?) She dragged this thing out from the herd and basically demanded I take a photo.
Terrorists. (not)
A gang of little punks. Even these guys were the ones to ask to have their photos taken.
The ceilings of Pamiri houses look like this. It’s Ishmaili Muslim architecture with religious significance. Each layer signifies a prophet, and the skylight represents heaven.
At some point along the way, Beth and Justin caught back up with me. Here’s Beth putting away her camera with some epic scenery in the background. Most of the time it was super windy, and since there is so much sand everywhere, we were continuously pelted in the face with it, making it really hard to ride.
The Ishmailis use ram racks to denote especially spiritual places. I am probably being really irreverent right here. Also, note the 42-tooth cog on Justin’s bike. If only…
Justin and Beth, riding off into the sunset.
It seems like there wouldn’t be enough grass to feed so many animals up here…
Love at first sight. It was really interesting to see younger people bridging the gap between traditional and modern lifestyles. This young woman still works hard as a shepherdess, but look at her iphone earbuds. What’s she listening to? And the cheetah print headscarf is not traditional. I wonder if her mother approves.
Elderly fashionistas.
Do these children know they live in the most amazing place in the world? I was going to buy that kid’s Pamir trucker hat for $2, but unfortunately it was too small for my huge melon. I think these kids were mostly just coming from school. What’s in store for them? Will they all leave the Wakhan Valley for jobs in bigger cities?
Now the ground is flatter, the road better, and there are TRACTORS!
And locals with their own bicycles, not just crazy foreigners.
Towns with beautiful tree-lined avenues, and more children demanding to have their photos taken.
Camping behind a rock outcropping to shield ourselves from the wind.
And the Panj River turning golden in the sunset.
Camping, day and night. Actually, the morning I took this photo was the one time something semi-dangerous happened on this whole journey along the Afghan border. We had pitched camp right next to the river (border), and as I was packing up, two Tajik army guys with machine guns came up to me in a rush and briefly inspected my stuff and asked what i was doing. When they were satisfied that I wasn’t a threat, and made aware that I don’t speak Tajik or Russian, they began gesticulating across the river, making binoculars with their hands, and miming machine gun fire. Then they told me to hurry up and get a move on. I found out later that something had happened on the Afghan side of the border and so security was being tightened for the time being. For a few days the Tajik government also stopped issuing permits to the Gorno-Badakshan region (which contains most of the Pamir Highway) due to that incident, but I never found out what exactly happened.
More camping, this time in some kind of wind shelter.
By this time I’d separated from J&B again to detour up to Garm Chasma Hot Spring. I highly recommend it. not only did I have a nice dip, but the next morning these guys, fellow Tajik guests at my hotel, fed me a breakfast of meat and vodka, prayed for my journey (first drunken Muslim prayer I’ve ever seen), and sent me on my way. Below: Although I couldn’t take photos inside the hot spring (everyone was naked and I didn’t think they’d appreciate it), here you can see the mineral-rich overflow from the hot spring pools being shunted into the river nearby.
Annnnnnnd finally I reach Khorog, a surprisingly populous hamlet full of cute young English-speaking college girls. YES! Oh and the first fresh fruits and veggies in quite a while.
Lalmo, my guesthouse owner. While sewing my Tajik flag patch on my backpack for me, she told me all about life in Tajikistan under the communist regime; how it had been simple and politically restrictive, but everyone had had enough to eat and there had been virtually no crime. Then after the fall of the USSR, things had gotten quite unstable for a few years, but now that the economy and political system have recovered, life is again pretty good.
Those bananas are almost $1 each.
Husnich struck up a conversation with me while I was fixing a flat on the side of the road. We agreed to meet up for lunch in Khorog, and then she took me to the city’s museum. It was pretty lame, but fun because I got to take incongruous photos of her with all the exhibits. Including this one of Husnich with all the great men in Tajik history.
Husnich and wildlife.
Above: RC Cola is the only game in town in rural Tajikistan. Below: Cool Pamiri woolen socks! You bet your socks I got a pair!
After a few rest days in Khorog, I embarked on the last leg of the Pamir Highway, the last 5 days to Dushanbe…
