The 'Stans - Pamir Highway: Khorog to Langar (11 August 2019)

Today's leg is Khorog to Langar which is one the more brutal parts of the journey:



We had breakfast and left early doors to climb the mountains leaving Khorog behind:

We continue to follow the path heading to the Panj river, against straddling the Tajik - Afghan border for the remainder of the day. Again, the views are breathtaking:

We reached one of the shallowest part of the Panj River, just a small stroll across into Afghanistan. As we were travelling in the height of summer, the water levels were particularly low:

After a number of hours we reached Ishkashim, which has a bridge connecting it to the Afghan town of Eshkashim. There is sometimes a border market on the island in the middle of the Panj river, but it was unfortunately closed.

We reached a small town and our driver went in search of food. We would stop by groups of locals asking for the nearest restaurant - and by restaurant I mean a family house that will also sell hot meals. After circling this small village for a substantial amount of time, we ended up in the ground of a large farm, with day beds scattered around.

Eventually an old Tajik man appeared with his grand kids and told us that his wife/daughter would be able to knock up some Plov. This may have been the most tranquil lunch I have ever had, in the remote Tajik countryside and the Plov was outstanding - especially after many hours in a 4x4.

After lunch we continue to Kakaah Fortress which overs a vantage point across the Wakhan Valley in Afghanistan. The fortress is a stone ruin at the top of  a hill, which is a fairly tiring climb due to the altitude.

At the top you get spectacular views, so much so that Tajik border guards still use this fort as a vantage point across the river.

 The Wakhan Valley was definitely one of the best views that I had in the trip around the Stans. Truly awe-inspiring.

At the bottom of the fort there was a for gift show, or at least a selection of goods being sold by an entrepreneurial Tajik family. There was one souvenir that I had been looking for and finally found - a Pakul. An Afghan hat. If you don't know what I'm talking about, google it now and it will be instantly recognisable. I bartered a reasonable price for two Pakuls, for the Belgian and I, and we set off again. Not too long after we stumble across a Tajik volleyball game in a small village:

Our final stop of the day was at the Bibi Fatima Hot Springs - a sulfur spring, which from the outside looked like two porta-cabins perched onto the mountainside. We made our way in and were greeted by a number of bollock naked Tajiks, include our driver getting in money's worth from the spring. I joined for a relaxing dip, but called it a day as the number of bollock naked Tajiks grew by the minute.

We finally make it to our accommodation for the night - although reminiscent of the fort ruins from the Wakhan, it turned out be comfortable enough for the evening:

The 'Stans - Pamir Highway: Kalai Khum to Khorog (10 August 2019)

The second day of the Road Trip was Kalai Khum to Khorog:


The first day was relatively easy - nice roads, only five hours in the car. The second day I had read would be a slog with the deteriation in roads and more like a 6/7 hour journey.

We begin our day still following the River Panj, keeping Afghanistan in touching distance:

This is one of my favourite shots of Afghanistan, for me it shows the country as I imagined it:

As we drove on the views continued to be stunning, and the hours melted by. My fears of surviving 6/7 hour car journeys were put to ease with this amazing scenery on loop.

We came to our first GBAO checkpoint 0 the first of around 10 as we made our way through the Pamir Highway. I had read about bribes having to be paid at certain checkpoints, but we passed this one with ease. At each checkpoint we had to provide our passports, visas, GBAO permits and photocopies to hand over. There were no computers a the check points, instead our details were written down and our photocopies stored away. This creates a considerable amount of admin and paperwork to get prepared before setting off - 10 x passport, 10 x visa and 10 x GBAO permit photocopies!

No matter where in the world you are, you can always find a football pitch:

After a good 6/7 hours we finally arrived in Khorog. As we drove in we went past Khorog Airport which was being guarded by Chinese soldiers. In fact there were large makeshift barracks, full of Chinese soldiers - some playing frisbee, some giving sweets to Tajik children. It was a very odd site to see the Chinese army deployed in Tajikistan.

Our driver took us to a very nice, modern house (well above the standard of home stay expected) and we dropped our bags and went exploring the town. Khorog is fairly big and affluent for a mountainous town in Tajikistan. Khorog is heavily Ismaili and is home to the Ismaili Jamatkhana and Centre.

I bump into the Portuguese chap on my walk and we decide to take a bus out of town to the Tem - Demogan Bridge, the bridge connecting Tajikistan to Afghanistan. There is also an Afghan market that takes places near to the bridge, but unfortunately it was closed. We instead took some photos and got shouted at several times by the Tajik border guard for getting too close - must have provided some excite for what looked like an extremely quiet border.

Surprisingly, right at this point there is a luxury hotel. Perfect for a weekend getaway into Afghanistan.

We then hitchhike back into town. A Tajik man and his small child stop and drive us into Khorog whilst refusing to take any money. We go on the hunt for food and pass some Khorog classics:

On a recommendation we head to Delhi Darbar, an Indian restaurant, but to our dismay it is fully booked all evening. Me and the Belgian instead head to a nearby rooftop restaurant for a burger and a beer.

The 'Stans - Pamir Highway: Dushanbe to Kalai Khum (9 August 2019)

We set out early from the City Hostel to start our five day car journey that would eventually end up in Osh, Kyrgyzstan:

My expectations of the journey were long miserable hours in a car, run down homestay accommodation and a definite case of the runs. How many of these were true will become apparent over the next five posts...

Me, the Belgian and the Portuguese chaps set off in our 4x4. It was less spacy than the Land Cruiser in Turkmenistan - usually 4 people do the tour in these cars, that would be unbelievably cramped for five days. With just the 3 of us it would be far more bearable.

The Portuguese guy started speaking about his trip to Turkmenistan and made it sound like he was an intrepid explorer discovering untouched lands, he was suddenly deflated when both me and the Belgian told him we had done the exact same route through Turkmenistan. I could tell being trapped in a car for five days with this chap would be trying...

We had only been going for an hour before a pit stop at the top of a mountain, looking over Nurak situated on the Vakhsh River:

This toilet break offered incredible views, only an hour or so into the journey. This was a good omen of just how spectacular the views on this road trip would be. We were stopped just long enough to be guilted by this cheeky kids into purchasing some second rate pistachios.

Just a little further down the road (still roads at this point), was the memorial to victims of the terrorist attack on 29 July 2018, in which four cyclists were killed.

As we snaked our way south we started to see our first glimpses of Afghanistan which was just beyond the Panj river - only a few metres in length at some parts. At a particuarly narrows and shallow part of the Panj river our guide told us not to wade across, as we would most likely be shot.

As we drove along the Tajik/Afghan border (and we would for the next 2.5 days), there were a corresponding track on the Afghan side, with the occasional bike or walker as the main means of transport. It was surreal seeing Afghans and exchanging waves across the water - a country that everyone at home knows about for war and suffering, to be so close and to look so tranquil.

Our first view of Afghanistan:

As we descend down, we get closer and closer to Afghanistan:

After around 5 hours of driving for the day, my stomach takes a turn for the worse. I know we're very near to Kalai Khum (thanks to Mapse.me), but I can't take it anymore. I asked the driver to pull over and make a bee-line to a large rock. After a few minutes, everything is back to normal and make the final crawl into Kalai Khum.

Kalai Khum is an odd place. It is a village with reasonable home-stay and local shops, and then a massive five star hotel called Karon Palace, presumably catering for the groups of Chinese tourists that may venture this way. 

I headed out to buy a coca cola to settle the stomach (it actually worked), then sat at our home-stay terrace to eat dinner. The home-stay was located right above the tributary of the River Panj - the water flowing through was crystal blue:

The lights went off at 10 and the drivers started snoring, so I hit the decks for a reasonable sleep.

The 'Stans - Dushanbe (8 August 2019)

Today is my penultimate day in Dushanbe, before departing for the Pamir Highway tomorrow morning. The aim for today is to stock on supplies for the trip, and what better place than Dushanbe's Green Bazaar:

My shopping list consisted of: pistachios, almonds, sweets, dried apricots and other dried fruits. My attempt at haggling was frowned upon, seemed to be a non-haggling market but the prices were pretty reasonable. I was buying by the kilogram/half kilogram at this point so headed back to the hostel to drop my load.

I spent my day meandering the streets of Dushanbe, with not much of a plan.

I did however, manage to tick off something that was on my 'must-see' list:

Yes, that's right. This is currently the second tallest flag pole in the world, and held the record for the tallest between 2011 to 2014. It is 165m tall and it is big.

Overwhelmed by the flag pole, I tracked down a coffee shops called Mazza that was recommended to me by a friend who once worked in Dushanbe. It was one of the better coffees I had in Central Asia:

In the evening I stumbled upon a tourism market, promoting all the tourist interests within Central Asia. Again, a completely unexpected event full of locals and embassy dignitaries.

I then jumped into the trusty dollar Dushanbe cab and headed back to the hostel and a reliable bit of Turkish food from Merve, ready for the five day car journey tomorrow...

The 'Stans - Dushanbe (7 August 2019)

As I had made my choice to take on the Pamir Highway, starting on the 9 August, I had to sort out my Central Asian admin. Today's task was to apply for a permit for the Gorno-Badakshan Autonomous Region (GBAO) - essentially it is an autonomous region that takes over nearly 50% of Tajikistan.

As I speak no Russian or Tajik, and the local government offices would not speak any English, I managed to find some extremely helpful instructions of where to go and what to do, all the way down to the specific colour of doors that I should be using when inside the government building.

I took my trusty dollar Dushanbe cab downtown in the general direction of the OVIR (Department of Visas and Registrations) building. The first instruction was 'when you are standing in front of the building, you want the white door on the far right. It seems to stick, though, so if you can't open it just knock politely until some one opens it.'

Success, I say G-B-A-O, the lady takes my passport and start making copies and hands me a bit of paper and motions me to another window. I pass the Tajik man my form and he asks whether I have paid, I hadn't. My instructions tell me I must go to Amanat Bank, a five minute walk away, to make payment there and then come back to the office with a receipt.

Amanat Bank is again very Soviet - disinterested and slow. I finally get my receipt so head back to the OVIR office and hand over my passport, visa, permit form and receipt for payment. The lady motions for me to come back at 4.

The next few hours I wonder around the leafy city of Dushanbe - the city is pleasant and slow paced, with the occasional G Wagon whizzing passed. For the poorest country in Central Asia, Dushanbe definitely has money.

Steele with the state emblem of Tajikistan:

Rudaki Monument:

Statue of Ismoil Somoni:

After ambling through Dushanbe, the time nears to four and I head back to the OVIR office and pick up my GBAO permit - I had successfully navigated the bureaucratic system of a former soviet republic without speaking a road of Russian. After a couple of weeks of travelling, this felt like the most productive I'd been in a long time:

I headed back to the hostel and bumped into Simon again, who happened to be staying at the same hostel. We caught up on our different journeys from the Uzbek border to Dushanbe, and Simon informed me that he had found a Portuguese chap to share the car journey in the Pamir Highway.

For dinner I met up with a friend of a friend - they both worked in Dushanbe when my friend was working here in the Tajik capital. Nargis, a local Tajik lady met me and took me to one of her favourite local Tajik restaurants slightly out of town. We had a mix of local foods including Mantu, Plov, Shashlik, Manti and a local Tajik beer. In true Central Asian fashion, Nargis offered to pay for the meal and wouldn't accept no for an answer.

The 'Stans - Samarkand to Dushanbe (6 August 2019)

An early(ish) morning start to head to the Tajik border. The Belgian guy trekked to my hotel and we jumped in a cab together to take the 30 minute journey. We arrived at the border which was busy with locals and participants of the Mongol Rally. My previous border crossing into Uzbekistan was delightful, this one...not so much.

Our passports were checked and we were allowed through the gate and down into no man's land until we reached a hut that we needed to pass through to get our passports stamped. There was no queue to get into this hut. Just a gaggle of Tajik local women, a group of Chinese tourists and a few backpacker. The Tajik local women did not concede an inch (big ladies) and we ended up pushing our way through this hut and out of the other end.

Now into Tajikistan, the Belgian and I part ways and agree to meet in Dushanbe before our Pamir trip. Simon finds a car taking him to his destination and I start asking around for a car to Dushanbe. I find a man who offers to take me for around $40, I say no to this and agree to buy one seat in the car. I wait for about 20 minutes and realise that no other solo traveller are coming my way. All the tourists seems to have pre-arranged transport. I buckle and negotiate a price of around $30 to Dushanbe, a journey of around 4/5 hours. A beige Vauxhall Astra is my ride for the journey.

The driver was a nice old Uzbek bloke. We stopped off at his house (I think) en route and he picked up a flash drive with music that he thought I'd like. It was an EDM treasure trove and the driver turned up the volume. At one point we are stopped by the police and the police officer comes to my window and asks me whether I am ok - must have looked like a kidnapping victim. At one point we stop at a makeshift Tajik roadside shop with the drinks being cooled by the water flowing down the rocks - my driver asks me to buy him an energy drink. I wholeheartedly agree. The last thing I need is this guy falling asleep on me:

 Tajikistan then starts to open up before my eyes, such a spectacular journey:

My driver kept insisting on taking photos of me when we had our strategic pit stops. Many gems like this in my phone (pretty tired by this point, but we persevere):

It wouldn't be a Central Asian car journey with at least one crash en route:

We stop at one natural beautiful place, we just happens to be after the 'Tunnel of Death' (or the Anzob Tunnel). The Daily Mail describes it as: 'The pitch black three-mile underground road linking Tajikistan's two main cities which is one of the most terrifying places on earth to drive. With the risk of falling rocks, blind potholes and even carbon monoxide poisoning, it's easy to see where this treacherous road earned its nickname.'

Essentially it is an unlit and un-ventilated tunnel with the odd pothole. If you're driving in a car, then it's not the worst ride. If you're cycling through it, you have a death wish. As we got out the car at the other end I chatted to a couple of cyclists - one put her bike on a van and got driven through, the other chap cycles through and looked grimier for it.

After more hours of driving and descending from the mountains, we finally reach the outskirts of Dushanbe. The driver asks me for a couple more dollar to go into Dushanbe and to my hostel. I agree and he starts making calls to the hostel to find out where it's located. I try telling him many times to just use my GPS, but he refuses and keeps calling. Eventually I win and I direct him to TopChan Hostel, but alas, the hostel does not exist. We both get out the car and walk around where it should be and ask locals for help - no one has heard of it.

The driver tells me to get back into the car and he will drive around some more. He doesn't seem to understand that this hostel does not exist. I take my bags and wish him good day. Luckily Maps.ME has offline hotels and hostels and I choose a highly rated one and hope for the best - City Hostel.

I hail a cab and am prepared for a standard taxi argument. But, this taxi is...air conditioned. And...metered. And the taxi driver actually turns on the meter. I love Dushanbe. (This still bring a smile to face as I write this months later).

I arrive at the City Hostel and it is fine. I find a Turkish restaurant just a few minutes walk away called Merve and head down for a feed. I haven't eaten since breakfast and order a lot of grilled meats. It's delightful. I had back to the hostel and head to bed.

The 'Stans - Samarkand (5 August 2019)

I have a good night sleep at Amir Hostel and head down for the classic Central Asian buffet breakfast. I chat to an English guy who is cycling from London to the Pamir Highway - he's been going for months and is on the final stretch, but still weeks of up hill cycling ahead.

I head out in the early morning to walk back to the Registan to explore further and actually enter the complex. But first of all, I go in search of my morning coffee. As this place is fairly touristy, I was expecting to find a decent cup of coffee. I bump into the Belgian guy at the Bedouin-esque café. We catch up over breakfast and make plans to share a taxi to the Tajik border the following morning. He recommends a book called the Great Game chronicling the British and Russian Empires' foray into Central Asia - I make a note to download it onto my kindle and get hooked.

We part ways and I head to the Registan to once again marvel at the historic beauty.





I'm a big fan of Central Asian mosaics:

As I'm wandering around the Registan trying to take some snaps for the Gram, a police officer approaches me and asks how many people are in my party. I say just the one. He then offers to take me onto the roof of the Registan for a small backhander, around $10. I of course snap up the opportunity and pay the bribe. We walk to a fire escape, and he looks around before ushering me up. We climb to the top and can see the Registan in all its glory. He tells me to keep my head down and to take my photos.

I paid my first (and last) Central Asian bribe for a slightly odd experience on the roof of the Registan in Samarkand...

At this point I decide to grab lunch, but realise my money is running low so have to do the standard Central Asian ATM hunt. You'd think there would be an ATM accepting foreign cards, I try several but no luck. Eventually I find a US Dollar ATM, so I withdraw what I can and then head to a currency exchange to finally get my Uzbek So'm.

Back at the hotel I do some reading and then meet the Belgian guy for dinner. The place we wanted to go to was closed so we end up at an Uzbek/American diner and have buffalo chicken wings! We discuss tomorrow's journey to Tajikistan and I take up his offer of a seat in his 4x4 around the Pamir Highway. I had read about these trips before the trip and thought it sounded terrible being stuck in a car for 5 days, but I put my faith in the Belgian guy...