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
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