Onwards to Khali-I-Khumb

Day 78-82

After a lazy morning and a delicious lunch of bread, cheese (cheese!), tomato and onion I pack my gear and head into town to meet Barbara. By the time we get out of town it is almost three pm. That's ok. We have allowed ourselves 5 days to cycle 240km.  

We cycle for a couple of hours before finding a spot to camp. We eat dinner together (grechka with beetroot, capsicum and onion - delicious), play some cards and head to bed. 

I wake up in the middle of the night to some rustling around my tent. It's a fox! Barbara is awake as well and discovers that the fox has stolen her shoes. We have a quick look but it's difficult with our headlamps in the dark. We head back to bed but the fox lingers around, it is nipping at Barbara's tent and seems to want to play. 

In the morning I find my cup and spoon a few metres away, as well as my water bag. The hose is a few centimetres shorter but there are no holes in the bag. After 10 minutes of searching we also locate both of Barbara's shoes. 

After this delay and a lazy breakfast it's 10 o'clock by the time we hit the road. We stop at a small roadside stall for lunch, I purchase a small fish and some sort of fried dough with potato and onions inside them.  As we are leaving a share jeep turns up and one the passengers starts talking to Barbara in German. He is a local teacher and invites us to his house 40km up the road. We decide to stay there tonight. 

We have a very cruisey afternoon, there is no wind and the asphalt is pretty good. This is holiday cycling. No need to hunt for a campsite, easy kilometres and good company. We are invited for chai in a village and are fed pasta, peaches, pears and apples. The fruit in the valley here is great. We are given a bag each of apples and pears as we leave. 

Once we get to Nissam's house we are treated like queens. Chai is quickly served, along with bread, jam, grapes, pecans, peaches and dried mulberries. Dinner comes next, mutton, mash potato and tomato salad. Delicious. I don't think it gets much better than this. And then we are offered schnapps.  

An early start in the morning brings more easy kilometres despite the light head wind. The valley continues to be spectacular, with views of Afghan villages and large brown hills/cliffs. A quick stop in a village to buy some more grechka turns out well for us. A lady near the shop invites us to her house and gives us about 3 kg of freshly picked peaches. Barbara also finds a fig tree on the outskirts of town and loads up of fresh figs. 

We find a campsite in the mid afternoon and while away the time drinking tea, reading and having a well needed wash in the (freezing cold) creek. 

The road today turns a little rough. And by a little I mean that we have to push our bikes through patches of bull dust, there are rocks and sections of washboard. The holiday cycling of the last couple of days seems to have ended. Luckily the scenery is still amazing. We gaze at Afghanistan, puzzling over how anyone can walk along the crazy paths that zig zag up the mountains. 

In the evening, while dinner is cooking, Barbara gives me a haircut. Somehow I convinced myself that it would be fun to have a Mohawk. 

It's a windy morning and the road surface is variable. We continue down the road, still marvelling at the scenery, after a week of staring at Afghanistan in the Whakan valley and now another 5 days of it, it doesn't get old. We wave to the children playing on the bank of the river and laugh at the crazy sounds the donkeys make. The occasional motorcycle puts along the road but the traffic in Afghanistan is light. None of those pesky Chinese trucks blowing dust around. 

Lunchtime rolls around and just in time we are invited for chai. Chai comes and so does bread, soup, tomato salad, grapes and watermelon. We are spoilt. There is a cost though. Barbara endures the advances of one of the men, having to make up an Austrian phone number for him and frequently tell him that no, he can't take my bike and cycle the rest of the way to Austria with her. I feel bad for Barbara putting up with this but I am happy I get out of it. After a little while the men ask Barbara if I am a male of female. Ahhh, that is why I don't have to put up with the creepy man! There are benefits to having a Mohawk. 

We finally escape, straight into the clutches of the craziest wind I have experienced so far. Coming head on in huge gusts, sometimes leaving us standing still, turning our backs to the sand that it picks up. It's kind of like being at the beach on a windy day and the sand hitting the back of you legs, except that your trying to ride into the wind and the sand hits your face. 

It settles after a while and we make it to Khali-I-Khumb, after splitting up the fruit we have gathered today (figs and peaches) we part ways. I have found a homestay and Barbara is going to tackle the pass and make her way to Dushanbe slowly. It's been a great week cycling with Barbara, sharing food and stories at mealtimes, not having to worry about being so secluded at every campsite and she gave me a great new haircut.  

15/9: khorog - just before baryanj rode 21km, ODO 2326km

16/9: just before baryanj - Dehrushan rode 61km, ODO 2388km

17/9 Dehrushan - a bit before Vanj turn off rode 67km ODO 2456km

18/9 a bit before Vanj turn off - another village rode 56km, ODO 2512km

19/9 some village - Khali-I-Khumb rode 43km, ODO 2555km

Resting in Khorog

Day 75-77

I have a list of things to do in Khorog, clean my bike, change the tube in the back tyre (it has a slow leak), write and upload my blog, go shopping for food and eat. And eat. 

I take it pretty easy on my second day in town, venturing out in the morning to go to the bazaar, having a nap after lunch, drink some beer in the arvo, eat some more food. On Saturday a few other cyclists and I try to go to the border market - a market that Afghanis and Tajiks and tourists can all go to. We make the trek into town only to be told that the market is closed for renovations. Oh well, a quick shop, searching for jam in a bag, and we return to the guesthouse for another relaxing afternoon. 

On Sunday I cycle to the bazaar (just for something different!) and stumble across Barbara, the Austrian cyclist I spent some time with in Kyrgyzstan. She has arrived from her Pamir/ Whakan adventure and has found a family to stay with in Khorog. We head to my guesthouse for lunch and plan the next few days. 

We decide to leave town tomorrow arvo, I will cycle with her until Khali-I-Khumb, hopefully arrive there on Friday. From there I will catch a share jeep to Dushanbe and she will cycle on. 

With this plan in place I finally get around to doing my bike maintenance, change my rear tube and get the toothbrush out to try and get some of the Whakan sand out of my chain. 

Whakan valley

Day 70-74

I have a pretty terrible sleep, I need to get up and go to the toilet a few times and I have to go through two sets of creaky doors to get outside, get out of the courtyard, stumble past the chook pen and then get to the squat toilet. The first time I go I get back to bed and the owner of the homestay comes into my room wondering what is wrong. I manage to explain that I just went to the toilet. 

After brekky I get an early start to try and beat the head wind. It doesn't work. The road is also terrible. By the afternoon I find my self pushing my bike along some sections of particularly bad washboard. I am pushing my bike and it's not even up hill.  I am tired. 

On the other hand I am really enjoying cycling through the villages, saying Salaam to everyone hanging around in the street or wandering along. To my dissapoinent I somehow manage to cycle past the turn off to the Bibi-Fatima hot springs, supposedly the nicest in the Whakan. Oh well, I am not motivated enough to turn back. 

In Zumodv I find someone's house to stay in. After discussing the best place to put up my tent in their yard they end up insisting I sleep in the house. The hospitality in the Whakan is amazing. That afternoon I bonded with the ladies that lived at the house as we hand washed our clothes next to each other. It's got to be said that the women here really know how to hand wash something properly. I just slosh my dusty cycling clothes in a bucket with some water and soap and rinse them out. The local women really scrub all the clothes. I should probably take lessons. 

I am off early the next day (it's amazing how quick I can pack my stuff when I am not camping) and head uphill. Uphill? I climb the side of a hill as the valley narrows again. The scenery is spectacular. Once I descend back into a village it is lunch time and a teenage boy invites me for chai. I accept. To my surprise I am served salty milk tea. It is the first time I have had salty milk tea since Mongolia. As I am leaving the boy asks me for some somoni. It's only the equivalent of 60 cents but it's very cheeky. I tell him a firm Nyet and make a speedy exit. 

A couple of hours later I am invited for chai again. Slightly wary after my the experience of earlier in the day I decline. These kids ran up a hill to talk me and are very persistent. I accept. One girl runs ahead to get everything ready. This family is lovely. After half an hour or so I decide to ask if I can sleep here.  The girls mother seems very pleased I want to stay. 

I spend the remainder of the afternoon on an outdoor raised platform playing snap with the kids and doing a little bike maintenance. When I ask for a bucket to wash my socks in the 14 yr old girl insits she wash them for me. I try to tell her that they are disgusting and stink and that I will do it but she is stubborn. I relinquish my extremely gross socks to her and she somehow manages to make my stinky cardboard like socks smell and feel like new again. These women and girls, they do know how to do a proper hand wash. 

As the sun starts to set it starts getting a little cool. I ask the mum for a blanket and she asks if I am cold. I nod. She ducks into the house and returns with a blanket and a massive sheep skin vest. She gives me aassive hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. It is the first hug I have had since leaving Babara a couple of weeks ago. I feel so welcomed and accepted despite a massive language barrier. 

Dinner that night is pasta with onions and potatoes served with bread. Carbs anyone? During the day I had been thinking a lot about the next couple of weeks and my timeline. I decided not to keep rushing through this section and just take whatever time it takes to get to Khorog and take transport to dushanbe from there. I am over the hurrying and trying to complete a certain number of kilometres each day. 

After another massive hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek from my new Tajik mum I have a blissful few hours of no wind in the morning. At some stage before Ishkashim the road changes to asphalt. Asphalt, bliss. Sure, it's broken up in places and sometimes gives way to sand or washboard, but asphalt, heavenly asphalt. I think it's too good to be true and keep waiting for it to change back to gravel. It occasionally does and I think oh well, it was too good to be true but the gravel never lasts for long. 

I stock up on more antibiotics and onions in Ishkashim and roll on. More villages, more brown hills and more river. Not a lot to say about today's cycling to be honest. In Kozideh I invite myself into a house for the night. More snap with the kids and then a really good sleep. 

After another early start I beat the head wind for a little while and make some easy kms. I find the turn off to some hot springs I have heard about. I ask two seperate people if this is the way to Snib. It seems it is. I struggle to push my bike up a very steep gravel hill. Halfway up I start to feel dizzy and light headed. I stop frequently. At one stage everything goes black. I quickly drop my bike and sit down before I pass out. I spend 45 minutes eating a bunch of dried fruit and drinking a litre of water. To make sure my blood sugar is high enough I also eat a snickers. I continue up the hill and arrive at a small village and a dead end. I am told that I have to go back down the hill, continue along the road and then turn off. Damn. I think of quite a few expletives but manage to hold them in. I must be the only person to make a wrong turn in the entire Whakan/ pamir route. It's not like there are very many places to actually make a mistake. At least there was a nice view. 

A km or so later there is a very obvious turn off, a paved road and not nearly as steep as the one I just went up. I get to the village Snib and I am invited for chai. I need a little rest and some shade so make my way inside. I get told the hot springs are another 2 km up the road. I still feel a little dizzy and lightheaded and just not very well. 

I buy some delicious apple flavoured soft drink at the shop and then go to the hot springs. Men and women have seperate bathing times and just by chance I arrived at the beginning of the female bathing time. I wasn't really sure what to expect. Would the women wear swimmers or go nude? As I go around the corner to the pool I discover that nude it is.  The pool is a silty blue colour and has a waterfall going into it. I make my way into the warm pool and it's wonderfull. A few of the women make a little small talk with me but I am essentially left alone. 

After a while I feel light headed and decide it is time to get out. I sit on a bench and quickly decide that I should out some clothes on before I properly collapse. I feel terrible. After getting dressed I lie in some shade and put my legs up against a wall.  It makes me feel a little better but not much. 

A few minutes pass and one of the women checks on me. I explain how I feel. She dissapears and comes back with a jug of the hot spring water for me to drink. No thanks. My stomach has been assaulted enough the last few weeks thanks. 

I go back to my bike and roll back down the hill. I have decided to ask to stay at the lady's house in Snib. Once I get there I explain that I don't feel well. I am hustled inside and a bed is quickly made up for me. I am so grateful for these amazing women that are so welcoming and just take in a very grubby looking stranger that they can't even have a conversation with.  

Later in the afternoon I wake up, very hungry. Before I can think about getting something out of my panniers to eat a bowl of noodles is placed in front of me. Perfect. I spend the rest of the arvo reading, resting and feeling better than I did in the morning. The family makes me fried potatoes, fried onion and fried salami/mystery sausage meat for dinner. It is delicious. 

After another early start - it's great not having to pack up a tent and all the associated camping gear - I head back to the main road. I make some more quick kilometres and Khorog arrives much faster than I thought it would. Along the way I wave to someone in Afghanistan. They wave back. It's a little surreal. 

I arrive at the Pamir Lodge before midday. After a few hours of procrastinating I decide to fork out an extra $2 per night for a room instead of putting my tent up in the garden. I relax all arvo, catching up on a few emails and patiently trying to upload my blog. The internet speed here leaves a little to be desired. I do manage to Skype with mum and dad which is lovely. 

All the way along the pamir highway other cyclists had been telling me about the Indian restaurant in khorog. To say I was looking forward to it is a bit of an understatement. I head there in the evening with two other cyclists. It does not disappoint. Meat. With flavour. And spices. Wow. Apart from the small servings it is everything I had imagined when I had been cycling along. What a great way to finish up my Pamir/ Whakan journey with curry, beer and some great company. 

After spending so long reading about this part of the trip, working my way towards it and actually cycling the road I feel a little lost. Everyone keeps asking me what I am doing next and I haven't really planned the next part of my journey very well. I just know that I want to end up in Western Europe/ UK.  I know that I need a rest. I know that I can't apply for my Iran visa until after the 21st. I know that it takes anywhere between 7-10 days to cycle from Khorog to Dushanbe. I know that I don't want to feel like I have to rush. 

I think I have decided to spend a good few days at this lovely guesthouse and recover a little before going anywhere. I think I will cycle to Khal-I-Khumb which will take 3-4 days and then take transport to Dushanbe, hang out there for a week and then fly to Tehran.  At least that is the plan as I type this. It may change.  For now I will concentrate on eating fresh food, drinking beer in the afternoon and not doing much. Laundry and bike maintenance can wait another day. 

7/9 Langar - Zumodv: rode 52km, ODO 2115km

8/9 Zumodv - Namadgut Bolo: rode 45km, ODO 2161km

9/9 Namadgut Bolo - Kozideh: rode 55km, ODO 2217km

10/9 Kozideh - Snib: rode 39km, ODO 2257km

11/9 Snib - Khorog: rode 41km, ODO 2299km

Into the Whakan valley

Day 68-69

I have a lazy start in the morning, making rice pudding for brekky and a couple of cups of tea. I finally head off at about 10, heading down to the Pamir river. I rattle my way down some washboard to another checkpoint. After telling the soldiers that I don't have any cigarettes I make my way down the road. 

I find being able to look over a river at Afghanistan a little surreal. Although I am mostly going downhill it is very hard work. The road surface changes from loose sand to large loose rocks and back again frequently. In order to look at the view I have to stop my bike. A few times in the soft sand my bike washes out from under me.  I question my decision making a few times today. Why am I putting myself through this special sort of torture?

As I descend the vegetation changes. For the first time since before arriving in Sary-Tash I see trees! I set up my tent under some trees next to the river. I have only ridden 32km and most of it was downhill but I am exhausted. I hope the road improves or this valley will take me weeks to get through. 

After a warm night (my camp site was only at 3500m) I get up early to try and beat the head wind. It doesn't work. It is already windy at 7am. Feeling slightly nauseous I make my way up hill. Up hill? I thought I was meant to be going down the Whakan valley? Sure enough the road is going up. I struggle on, my stomach not feeling great and also feeling mentally exhausted. 

I check my distance after an hour and feel dejected. The rough road surface is getting the better of me. Then the eggy burps start. I figure it's giardia and get started on some antibiotics. 

Fortunately after a couple of hours of slog the road goes back down. I actually pick up later in the morning, the view is amazing. The road turns and I can see white capped mountains of the Hindu Kush range that separates Afghanistan and Pakistan. I am riding along the side of a large hill, the pamir river way below me. 

During the day I pass a lot of herders, sheparding their sheep, goats, cows and donkeys to lower pastures. At one point I was pushing my bike up a hill and one the herders decided that he would help. I was very thankful. 

After a shorter day than I thought it would be I end up at a homestay in Langar that a few other cyclists have recommended to me.  The Whakan and Pamir rivers meet here to form the Panj river. I have a relaxing afternoon, having wash (so much dust!), reading my book, writing my blog and of course endless cups of tea.  The house what I assume is a traditional Pamiri house, a sunken floor with raised platforms around it and a sunlight in the middle of the ceiling. 

 I am curious to see what the next few days hold, now that I am in the more populated section of the whakan valley. 

5/9 Past Khargush pass - past Khargush: rode 32km, ODO 2026km

6/9 past Khargush - Langar: rode 36km, ODO 2063km