Back to overview...

Central Asia

back to Travelogues

last story

At the foot of the Pamir

next story

29.03.2004 from Dushanbe, Tajikistan - 12'021km

Asalaam dear friends!

On the day I decided to leave Samarkand, it was pouring down heavily… as bad things come seldomly alone… I also realised that my rear tyre was loosing pressure. So, I had to hurry to find a dry spot to replace the punctured chamber. Then I could finally make my way towards the first mountain pass, south of Samarkand. I was cycling through an endless village that was stretching all the way up to the top at 1790m. It was getting dark and I happily accepted the offer of a young man to stay at his family’s home. I got invited to stay in a huge house and was treated like a king: a very nice experience! Isomidin, the young man, was an excellent host and I enjoyed the yet another night under a roof. Outside the rain still didn’t stop… On the following day, I quickly reached the pass. Thick fog was pushed up from the other side and it started raining even more. I felt like under a heavy shower, there was just water everywhere. The road turned into a river. With almost zero visibility, I reached the plains after the pass. By then, I knew what the ‘heavy rainfalls’ mean in this region in spring. A short hour of sunshine reminded me how pleasant cycling can be… then it started raining even more Towards the evening, I pushed my bicycling over a swampy field to reach an abandoned mud brick hut. The soil was just too wet to put up the tent. Finally, again at a dry spot. It cold colder and after nightfall it started snowing. While the rain couldn’t reach the inside of the hut, the snow was blown in by the wind in huge masses. My sleeping bag started getting wet… so no other possibility than to get up again and to put up the tent inside the hut The dimensions were just perfect, the tent fit in diagonally by centimeters. Finally, some sleep.

The third day after Samarkand was then finally full of sunshine. Allowing my shoes to get dry again. On the road, I made some amazing enounter. A man with his son got out of a car and wanted to take some pictures with my bicycle. His 12-year-old son then proudly presented his medals… he was some sort of karate junior master and had just come back from the U.S. In this in the middle of nowhere of Uzbekistan. The father invited me to stay at his brother’s home, just a day-ride towards Tajikistan. The road left again the plains and started climbing up over many small hills towards the last mountain range before Tajikistan. At one campspot, I was exactly below the flight route for the U.S. cargo planes delivering Afghanistan from the Uzbek military airport. There were really a lot of planes flying back and forth! The region was very beautiful, many lonely grass plaines with the occasional shepherds. People were deeply astonished at my arrival… only a handful of cyclists ever past over these roads. Before the main pass, a brand new minibus stopped in front of me and a French couple got out. They were looking for another cyclist who should be somewhere in Uzbekistan.

I haven’t met a touring cyclist since Romania back in September last year… The couple works for the European Union in Dushanbe, Tajikistan, so they gave me their address and phone number. Very nice to have some contacts. After two consecutive ‘registration’ hassles with the Uzbek police (‘what is your bicycle name and plate number?’, I could continue towards the village where the family of the ‘karate master’ lives. I had to pass for 8km over a really bad dirt road, full of mud and water continously asking where the family ‘Turajev’ would live? It was already completely dark, when I finally arrived at the right house. I was greeted like a member of the family. Yildish, the uncle of the karate master, ran towards as soon as he spotted me and hugged me like his own son. I spent an excellent evening with wonderful Uzbek food (Pillaw, rice with vegetables), lots of talking, witnessing the preparation for the Now Ruz (the Muslim New Year on March 21), watching ‘Sputnik TV’ (satellite receiver… and of course emptying the obligate cups of vodka (even the women were drinking here).
On the following morning, the weather was still wonderful. But soon the problems started elsewhere. First of all, I had to fix the bent rear rim (due to bumpy Uzbek road combined with a too fast downhill ). Then, my speedometer quit its service… no way to get it work again. I tried to eliminate one potential cause after the other (replacing the battery, cable torn apart, too much distance between the magnet and the sensor, different positions of the latter). I got it to work erratically, but nothing stable. It was a mystery. I assumed that the magnet lost its strength and that it would be too weak for the sensor, but somehow it didn’t seem reasonable, as I had a spare magnet and also that one didn’t work. The speedometer is really an essential part of the bicyle. Of course, you can still cycle, but you have loads of trouble getting an idea how far it is to the next town, border, to get water, etc…
I camped somewhere on a grass plain. The weather got worse during the night and it was raining continously. I put the magnet and sensor back somehow in place, just to not loose them… miraculously it worked flawlessly! I just couldn’t grasp why… The only difference to yesterday was the rain – so what’s the cause, Sherlock Holmes ? Magnetism shouldn’t be influence by humidity. A long downhill through some amazing eroded landscapes brought me down into the broad valley. The main river starts in Dushanbe/Tajikistan, makes a short way through Uzbekistan and the flows towards Afghanistan (just 100km to the South). In the villages, I attracted massive crowds. At one point, I had almost 50 people forming a huge circle around my bicycle. Some people hired a photographer to ‘immortalise’ the encounter. Some other quickly gather their friends with a camera, jumped into their car and chased me to take yet another picture.

Only 40km before the border to Tajikistan, I made a final camping. But just when I was putting up my tent under heavy rainfall. A farmer spotted me and ‘forced’ me to come one of his relatives home. He was horrified at the idea of sleeping outside The man who finally brought me to his home, was a very kind family father. He was excellent at communicating through body language. So I felt very much at ease, although I could not say really anything in Uzbek or Russian. After two cups of vodka, he asked me to play chess. The alcool has quite some impact on my brain after a full day of cycling, so I was hopefully lost. But I almost won the third game, as my mind started getting more logical again On the following day, I raced towards the Tajik border. It was still raining heavily. Big surprises, when I showed up with my bicycle. On the Uzbek side, some nice small-talk but no problems. Then on the Tajik side, I was greeted even more nicely. After the obligatory stamp into my passport, I had some chats with the officers. Then they took a look at my bicycle and saw how dirty it was (I had to push it several times through lots of mud to get to a good campspot). Some border guards and personnel then started cleaning my bicycle… I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. In the end the customs chief came out again, looked at the bike and still saw some dirt… he ordered his men to clean better In the end, I could take a picture with the people in front the customs building. I just had to take care, that the writings on the building would not be visible, as it is highly prohibited to take pictures of military buildings here The chief then invited to eat lunch with the border guards down in the cellar of the building. What a welcome to Tajikistan!

I continued to race towards Dushanbe, as it was getting late. A TV crew wanted to interview me, but my Tajik was not good enough, so they abandoned it Arrived in Dushanbe, I got quickly pointed to the cheapest hotel (not really cheap actually! – 10 USD). A man, who introduced himself as one of the bodyguards of the President, negiotated the price at the reception for me, as foreigners normally aren’t allowed to stay in the cheaper rooms. Full of positive impressions of Tajikistan, I slept in on the first night in the new country. All those horror stories that are circulating seem to be largely wrong or out-of-date. There are still some regions where it’s bloody dangerous to go to, but most of the country is relatively safe. The nervousness of some people can probably be explained by the fact that the last cyclist who was in the country (2002) got shot dead by some bandits/drug smugglers. But that happened in the most unstable region of the country. No need to go there…

Thanks to Albert and Nathalie, the French couple I met in Uzbekistan, I got in touch with Fernand, a Swiss who is the local head of the European Bank for reconstruction and development. Fernand has some powerful friends who helped me to extend very quickly my 2-week visa (technically only a 1-week) for another month and to get the permit for the Gorno-Badakhshan Region. Very smooth processing! Otherwise, I would have to wait for a long time to get these things done…
Last weekend I checked out of the hotel to cycle up the Anzob pass, as I was getting bored of the city. Technically the pass at 3250m is still closed, so the military blocked the access already at 1600m. A quarter of an hour of negiotations got me the special permission to pass the road block (no, I’m not scared of wolves; no, it’s not the first time that I’m camping alone somewhere; no, I’ve spent already seven months cycling alone, so there won’t be a problem; … ). I made some wonderful camping in a completely abandoned valley (the road was not used as the pass was still closed) at 1830m. Then on the following day, I cycled up to 2300m, but there were some huge mudslides that had swept away large parts of the road and I started to encounter serious amounts of snow. I left my bicycle behind and walked up to 2500m. I felt very happy! An awesome view on the 4000m peaks around me, perfect weather and wonderfully fresh air! I got completely covered with mud, when I was cycling down through the streams over water and dirt that covered the destroyed road. I loved it! The couple of people who lived nearby just couldn’t grasp what I was doing… first cycling up towards a closed pass, then coming back again extremely dirty!

During the following weeks, I will try to cycle through the high and wild Tajik Pamir region called the ‘roof of the world’ by the locals. I’m definitely looking forward to that!!!

See you soon & all the best,
Daniel

PS: The bicycle computer didn’t work again when I left the city for the weekend tour… I tried again all different positions. Somehow I also moved the cable and then I saw that the plastic cover was ripped off by a fixation ring… the rainy weather allowed some electric contact, while during dry weather the cable was not functional. Problem solved, Watson!

last story

next story