Posts Tagged ‘Tajikistan’


Cycling through a haze in my brain, I plodded along the valley towards Khorog. I was not really present, just feeling weak after emptying my stomach at 1am last night. The kids tried to pull me back into the now – ‘Hello hello!’. ‘What is your name?’. ‘Otkyda?’ I retired for the afternoon in Rushan and slept for 4 hours between 1600 and 2000.

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

Our military hosts came this morning bearing more gifts – milk. Just what I felt like having. Reece needed to move on quickly today, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that, so we parted ways. As it turned out, we met repeatedly throughout the day. I was (very) slow, but steady. Reece was fast with lots of technical problems with his bike. Tomorrow on to Khorog.


‘Are you OK?’ asked Reece.
‘No.’
‘Are you outside of the tent?’
‘Yes.’
Behind me was the dark mountainside in Tajikistan, opposite the looming black wall in Afghanistan, and above me the clear starry night. In front of me, one metre in front of the tent, I heaved out the vomit, wave after wave.

My little helpers

My little helpers

Our camping spot this morning was a short walk from a mine field. I discovered this on my sunrise walk, and promptly backtracked the way I had come. This is a serious border – between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. Minefields, constant police checks, military patrolling up and down the roads, and sitting under trees, rifle in hand.

Mine field

Mine field

An early morning rise resulted in a late start after I replaced my tyre which had worn out, and Reece readjusted his gears. By departure it was already hot, and I felt it the whole day, getting weaker and weaker as time went by. I still felt quite good in the morning, and both Reece and I repeatedly cried out for joy as each new view unfolded. This is an amazing valley!

Afghanistan

Afghanistan

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

My little helpers

My little helpers


The valley is one of walls. Walls of rock. We ply the road perched on the valley edge, watch the water gush past below, and the people walk along the impossible road etched into the side of the cliff-face opposite in Afghanistan.

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

The road is beautiful, undulating along this amazing valley. Compared to the last few days, the road surface is good (but still pretty dreadful), and so we could spend some mental energy gazing at the mountains of rock around us.

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

We have an amazing camp spot on a rocky peak overlooking Afghanistan. My first beat-bush to a camping spot. A lot of fun!


The road was steep. And rocky. The sun was shining, and the air was clear. And, man, it was beautiful. We bumped down along a stunning valley with sheer vertical walls. Little white ribbons of water slipping down the grass faces from the snow patches above. We made it all the way down to the vertical wall of rock – the Afghanistan border.

On the way down

On the way down

I have always been afraid of technical things. Getting your hands dirty. Fixing things that break. I see this bike trip as kind of like being in a relationship. Sometimes one is confronted with one’s fears. (Being single, you can just avoid the fears.) My fear is fixing the bike. Working out how devices I am carrying work. Adjusting everything properly. What if I do it wrongly and everything goes pear-shaped?
I am now proud to say that I have readjusted my panniers, tightened all the screws, and swapped my front and back tyre. I have also been frustrated and embarrassed at the eons I take to filter water. Something is wrong, and I need to work out what it is.

Tightening the screws

Tightening the screws

Today every screw was tested on the bike for tightness. It was a ragged old road. Rocks. Sand. Mud. Big holes. And, it was really fun, jiggling down the mountain in the warm sun. Every turn brought a new cry of joy. What an amazing view.

Pamir Highway 2015

Pamir Highway 2015

Ribbon of water

Ribbon of water

Switch-backs

Switch-backs


‘It’s a big switchback – just skirting around a stream – probably not very steep.’ We chuckled later as we gazed towards the heavens, admiring the switchback from below. We climbed very high, and are in awe at the beauty of this valley.

Looking down at our climb

Looking down at our climb

I am the pupil and this terrain is my teacher. I have not cycled along such roads – my bike and myself are rattled to the bones. I lost a pannier screw, and had to use a less crucial screw from another pannier as a replacement. The muddy sludge wedged its way between the tyre and the mud-guards and break pads. I had to regularly squirt them down to keep the wheel turning. Stream crossings also helped in dislodging the mud.
I have not cycled past such remote villages where the shops are bare – the people grow and make their own food. My food stocks are dwindling as the shops only have lollies and biscuits (and soap, fluffy teddy bears and Barbie dolls). Lucky we bought pasta earlier.
People don’t drink bottled water (which is good). I feel bad about having used bottled water up to now. So many plastic bottles (even if I always disposed of them correctly). I now filter the stream water – with my very very slow filter. You realise the importance of water when you have to squeeze every drop you drink through a ceramic filter. And scaling mountains is thirsty work.

On the way

On the way

Outside the shop

Outside the shop

We are staying in an abandoned hut high above the valley. What a spectacular place to have dinner and sleep. We are truly blessed.

Our dinner view

Our dinner view


It is not going to rain. I think we are near the top. It should be an easy day. We can go for an early morning swim in the lake, and then amble on into the town. Even with the bad road surface, we should be able to manage 70-80km. Famous last words. But it was an amazing day.

The road to the Pamirs

The road to the Pamirs

I had an exciting night holding my tent into position against the strong winds. A slow morning of breakfasting and then fixing a flat tyre protected from the rain by a tree meant that today was never going to be a kilometre rich day. But we didn’t want it to be one. With such a beautiful valley unfolding before us, what better way to enjoy it than to meander slowly.

The road to Khorog

The road to Khorog

We were invited in for tea by some kids. A game of zombies was a big hit.

The kids that invited us in for chai

The kids that invited us in for chai

Zombies

Zombies

After having cycled a whole 16km, we stopped for lunch and a swim at a lake. The thunder roared as we splashed around in the lake, and it pissed down as we curled up on a bed inside the restaurant, and decided to sleep a bit.

Thunderstorm sleep

Thunderstorm sleep

Tonight we find ourselves in an unfinished shop in a little village. Outside the rain is pattering on the roof, and we lie warm in our sleeping bags, fed with some bread and yoghurt. Life is good.


Today. A toilet audience. A wheel jammed in the gutter. A presidential 12000km from Eindhoven celebration. A belly of berries. A wind in all directions. Scree-slope roads. Climbs and drops. The mountains are getting bigger. I liked today.

Berries

Berries

He was sitting on the ridge – the little shepherd boy. From his perch he could see everything. Every possible toilet spot. And I needed to go. We often get audiences. Often kids. They just stand there and watch.

Our camping spot

Our camping spot

We only needed to go 4km today for me to reach 12000km from Eindhoven. At the 11999km mark I was greeted twice by a billboard of the Tajikistan president – one standing in a field of tulips, and one 500m further on holding some equipment while inspecting some engineering project. I was disappointed that he waited until 12001km before congratulating me with another billboard. Still, it had all the bells and whistles – and flags.

12001km

12001km

The president

The president

Reece got stuck in the gutter while getting back from the presidential address.

Reece in the gutter

Reece in the gutter

Today was a day of climbing (and even more often, descending) in the scree. It made for some slow going, but gave me a sense of achievement for getting through it.

A hot climb

A hot climb

Lovely view

Lovely view

Sunset

Sunset

And today was a day of mountains of berries – we bought some from some little girls at our lunch stop.

Eating berries

Eating berries


The third farewell and best wishes were made. The group of cyclists gathered at Vero’s had reached 12. We joked about my tent being eaten by the turtle and took more photos. Finally, after 3 nights in Dushanbe I find myself on my way to the Pamir Mountains with a new cycling partner – Reece.

The cycling gang at Vero's

The cycling gang at Vero’s

We had all heard of each other.
‘Ah – you are the Australian who got held up at the Iranian border.’
They had heard of me through Monique – a French cyclist they had met, and who I had met twice – in Bukhara and in Samarqand. I met ‘the’ Swiss couple and the Belgian couple. Each had already heard the other’s stories from this closed group of Pamir cyclists.

Reece and I set off, not realising that the road climbed and climbed and climbed. We thought that happened 100km later. The mountains are just starting now, and we have an amazing camping spot next to a bendy river. Fed and cleaned (by the water fight we had in the river), we are ready for bed.

On the road

On the road


Why plan in such detail? And so far ahead? Well, that’s my ordered side. Things need to be arranged. Leave nothing to chance. And that is exactly what a trip like this can never be like.. That also makes it exciting. Still, planning can help make broad global decisions that will affect the whole trip. And it is also a lot of fun!

In September 2014 I will be leaving Eindhoven, the Netherlands, to cycle to Adelaide, Australia, where I was born. After cycling through Europe in 2014, the second stage of my trip starts in Istanbul in Turkey around March 2015, and sees me end somewhere in South-East Asia. There are lots of options, and lots of decisions to make. Here is the current planned route.

World Cycle Trip 2015: Route Through Asia

World Cycle Trip 2015: Route Through Asia

At first I was a bit irritated when I discovered that, perhaps, my timing was a bit skew. I have planned too much time. Leaving Istanbul in February/March to get to Tajikistan on June 1 where I would meet up with my cycling friend Chris. But, hey, this is a cycle trip of a lifetime. No stress. No hectic agenda. I am going to take my time and see places not many people have the privilege to see. I am going to take detours. This route is the basis. I am now collecting ideas for detours – interesting places to see and things to do!

Here are the countries I will be cycling through with some thoughts on my route through them.

In Turkey I might stick to the Black Sea coast and enter into Georgia, Armenia, and possibly Azerbijan. But in the correct order. The relationships between the countries in the Caucus are complex, and in researching the trip I am discovering things I never knew existed – self proclaimed countries recognised by no-one except themselves – Abkhazia and Nagorna-Karabagh.

In Iran I may head south through Isfahan and Shiraz as recommended by Bernadette Speet. The major decisions that affect the global route take place in China. Strict laws in the Tibetan Autonomous Region (TAR), expensive (compulsory) tours that need to be taken there, roads blocked for tourists, length of Chinese visas, timing of wet and hot season in Bangladesh, lack of roads leading to massive detours on the Tibetan Plateau, the impossibility of crossing Myanmar. All these affect my route through China, and, inevitably, what the whole trip looks like. I would like to have a connected route entirely covered by bike – and I would like to see Bangladesh. The only option is to fly.

My planning continues – fine tuning the European and Asian route, and also putting together the third and final stage of the trip – the ‘South-East Asian’ leg.. 🙂


It has been a long road to arrive at this point, but actually, the road is just starting. Its exciting beyond belief, and bloody scary too. In September I will be leaving my job of 16 years and cycling from Eindhoven, the Netherlands – where I now live, to Adelaide, Australia – my birthplace. There is a lot of preparation to be done. I need to shed all my worldly possessions, learn a bit more about bike maintenance, arrange all sorts of paperwork, and plan the route.

You guys all helped me with my cycle trip in 2013 to the North Cape in Norway. You gave me great tips on my planned route, and I was able to meet up with some of you. I would like to do that here again with this more ambitious trip.

Here is a rough idea of how I want to get to Adelaide.
Bildschirmfoto 2014-01-07 um 20.26.05

In the coming weeks I will be putting together a planned route through Europe. It would be great to get some feedback on the route – roads I should take, places I should go.

This dream I had always thought would remain just a dream. It is too risky, too scary, too thrilling. My life situation is such that I can do this now. I am fit enough. I don’t want to look back on my life when on my death bed and think – I had the chance, and I let it go. A good friend of mine summed it up perfectly: Life is not a dressed rehearsal. I am going to do this!

To be continued!