The “Pamir Highway” is a stretch of road between Osh in Kyrgyzstan and Khorog in Tajikistan. It was built by the Russian military in the 1930’s and cuts through the majestic Pamir mountain range, with some peaks well over 7,000m. It’s a ‘highway’ only by name, with many sections nothing more than one lane dirt tracks cut into steep cliifs. Majority of the trip is made at above 3,000m, with the highest point being the Ak-Baital (White Horse) Pass at 4,655m.

The Kyrgyz-Tajik border crossing was again a relatively painless formality. Personal details were recorded, passports stamped and a dubious US$5 ‘road tax’ collected. The biggest challenge at the border was the altitude. The Tajikistan checkpost sits at 4,282m a.s.l, which left us a little light headed and cold. Although the border guards insisted it was at least 15 degrees celcius. Maybe they meant ferenheit

The eastern part of the Pamirs is essentially a 4,000m plateau. The scenery is desert like, with bare mountains, sandy plains and zero vegetation. It’s hard to believe that people would inhabit such a place (especially in winter), but they do… 

The first village we came upon was Karakul, by the lake of the same name. The lake was created by a meteor about a million years ago and has an eerie atmosphere about it. Like it doesn’t belong there. We camped not far from the lakes edge and tried to make dinner, but at this altitude fire struggles to burn and our cooker would not light up. We had to settle for some chai and ‘longhan’ (noodles with meat and vegetables) at a nearby homestay. The altitude also affected our motorcycle which had trouble starting the next morning and only a good dose of ‘choke’ (never previously required) coaxed it into life.

That same day we rode into Murgab. The last thing that could be classified as a ‘town for the next 400km. We did the obligatory registration (US$22 per person), changed some dollards into the local somani and fuelled up the bike. The only fuel we found was sold out of a shed and poured out of big plastic conatiners. We didn’t even bother guessing what actane it might have been, we were just glad we got any at all.

Another 200km past Murgab we turned off the Pamir Highway and headed towards Tajikistan’s border with Afghanistan. This is considered a sensitive area, so special (GBAO) permissions must be acquired beforehand. Along with our passports, these permissions were checked regularly along the road. We came upon our first checkpoint as we neared the Pamir river (a natural border between Tjikistan and Afghanistan). The young Tajik soldiers checked our documents and then asked for a litre of petrol so that they could cook their dinner that night. We gave them some from our tank and they were happy to pose for some commemorative pics…

As we tracked west along the Tajik side of the river the road became more and more desolate with many long sandy patches. We only saw trees or any kind of vegetation when riding through tiny villages peppered throughout the valley. At times, the road would rise above the now raging river and cling to steep cliffs, offering nothing more than a narrow rocky track with a sheer drop-off on one side.

This however, would still be considered a ‘highway’ when compared to what the Afghans had on offer. On their side of the river, led a meter wide path that was literally carved out of the granite like mountain side. This however did not slow down the Afghans and the traffic in the opposite direction was steady. How much of this was down to Wakan valleys notorious reputation for being a major drug trade route to China, we’re not sure. Although we suspect that more than one of those little donkeys being pushed along by its master, was loaded with opium…

The next major village was Ljadgar. Here we again topped up on some fuel, were invited to a traditional lunch of chai (tea) and lipioshka (bread), and almost had our motorcycle gloves stolen by the local youth. All in all it was a nice place

As we continued towards the next major village of Ishkashim, we couldn’t help but feel that time had stopped here a few centuries ago. Men worked the fields with their cykles, women washed clothes on the rocks of the riverbed and kids rode on donkeys laden with hay. Riding through on our motorbike, we of coarse became the centre of attention. Kids would rush to the roadside just see us, then wave and shout like crazy.

Tajikistan is the poorest of the Central Asian countries. However, as is often the case, it has some of the warmest people in the region. We were constantly invited to houses for tea and offered free food. On one occasion we accepted an invitation from a family to spend the night at their house. The owner of the house was an older lady that used to be the director of the local school, at which she earned US$50 per month!! After feeding us with assorted dried fruits from their ochards, they insisted that we slept in the main living area, while they took their place on the verendah. Apparently this way they could better watch over our bike….

Just before Kulyab, we finally turned away from the river (that had accompanied us for the last 600km)… and Afghanistan. This final section before ‘civilisation’, has constant reminders of Tajikistan’s recent civil war…

We are now in the Tajik capital of Dushanbe. After we get our Uzbek visa we plan to ride to Samarkand and then on to Tashkent.