Weeks 9, 10 & 11: Beautiful Kyrgyzstan & Return to Kazakhstan & Russia– 3rd to 24th June 20146/24/2014 ![]() Salam! Over the past three weeks we have been travelling around Kyrgyzstan and crossed the border into Kazakhstan on Saturday 14th June and into Russia on Friday 20th June. Kyrgyzstan is a remarkable and beautiful country and truly has to be seen to be believed, with almost every type of landscape you could imagine, (except for sand dunes and desert). There are gorges with gushing rivers, sandstone canyons and flat humid pastures full of rice paddies. We have also seen stunning alpine scenery with wild flower meadows and glittering blue lakes, ancient walnut forests with pretty waterfalls, and the second largest alpine lake in the world (Issyk-kul). Kyrgyzstan could possibly be one of the most varied and beautiful countries we have ever seen, and perhaps in 20 years time, it will be one of the most popular active holiday destinations in the world. All we know is that we want to come back to this country one day. Albeit police corruption is rife. So, what have we been up to? We were in Osh nearly three weeks ago now and we enjoyed the Kyrgyz Capital of the south immensely, albeit a fellow Brit (James) we later heard, had some serious issues, being nearly mugged by the police! James and a friend had withdrawn dollars from a cash machine and then two police officers tried to bundle them into their car and demand the dollars from them. Luckily, we didn’t have any trouble there but it worried us a little to read his blog (121degrees.co.uk). Best of luck traversing China James. We are thinking of you! :p In Osh, the air was muggy and warm and had a sub-tropical feel that Ed thought akin perhaps to India. In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of China (Tian Chen) provided a wonderful backdrop for a leafy green city, with tree-lined avenues and bizarre sandstone rock features thrown into the mix. It couldn’t have been more different to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. From Osh, we travelled north and then west, alongside the border with Uzbekistan’s Fergana valley. The scenery remained pleasant with rolling hills and cultivated fields. Occasionally we would pass slightly elevated areas of golden and grey-green sandstone mountains covered in spring shrubs, and we also passed a beautiful blue lake (where the locals were swimming and fishing) before driving further west into Jalalabad Province. One of the places we wanted to visit was a small rural village called Arslanbob, which contained three ancient walnut forests, stunning craggy mountain scenery and a couple of lovely waterfalls. We arrived on the outskirts of the village on Wednesday 4th June and bumped into a group of Dragoman tourists outside their homestay. They were a varied bunch of Brits, Dutch, American and Austrian, mostly travelling as individuals in a heowge orange Mercedes Truck and they invited us into the homestay for a beer and a chat. The two Dragoman drivers (Ricky and Emma) were legends and we ended up parking our truck next to theirs and spending the night there, sharing dinner with the Dragomans. It was great fun hearing about their stories so far. They were touring the Silk Road from Istanbul to Beijing and told us more amusing stories about Turkmenistan that corroborated other news we had heard of the country…. Lol. That night I had an awful fever, and so missed breakfast with the Dragomans. Ed joined them and made excuses for me. I think the (what I call vodka incident) of the previous week had weakened my immune system and I ended up with the worst sinus-cold of my life (still snivelling and coughing two weeks later). Subsequently, the next morning (me pale-faced) we walked a couple of miles up into Arslanbob and enjoyed the small Bazaar and then the pretty waterfall above the village. Randomly it turned out to be a ‘touristy’ spot with stalls all the way up to the waterfall selling yoghurt balls, ice-cream, raspberry sheets and horrendous Chinese plastic stuff that is too horrid to mention. Two ice-creams and a can of coke-cola helped me make it up the hill! The waterfall was very pretty and the view down into the valley below us was definitely worth the climb. On the way back to the truck, we purchased some beef from the local butcher (the first proper meat we had had for weeks) and then drove south from Arslanbob on route to our next destination (a Bio-Reserve with a beautiful lake, called Sary-Chelek). We didn’t really know where we were going, but the road to Sary Chelek was as dramatic as it was beautiful. We initially passed through some former coal mining towns, which included huge concrete Soviet block style flats which were a bit grim, before rising into desert-like sandstone mountains. Sometimes the sandstone would turn white and calcareous, forming wonderful knobbly features (including one such structure that looked like a male appendage). That night we parked up near the sandstone features in a peculiar valley covered in leafy plants, huge yellow flowering plants and wild herbs. It looked like a miniature jungle, or something from the land that time forgot. On Friday 6th June we arrived at the gates to the Bio-Reserve at Sary-Chelek. That morning we had driven through a wonderful collection of valleys following a gushing blue river in the direction of the National Park. Ed paid the equivalent of about £12 for us and the truck to enter the reserve and stay there for two nights. Upon entering the gates, we passed into a glorious green verdant valley of walnut trees, ash, pistachio and long grass full of wild flowers. It took us quick by surprise. The path wound up and up following a beautiful blue stream and we marvelled at the views and the beauty of the place. We saw pink pom pom alliums everywhere, bright wild yellow fennel, dark cerise orchids, and beautiful dainty pink geraniums. I also spotted some dianthus and wild geums (almost identical to the ones we left in our cottage garden at lower deans). It was delightful. Eventually we rose to the top of the valley, just over 1700mASL and we parked alongside a small blue lake. Unfortunately, the rapid rise in altitude provoked my sinus cold, and I had to lie down (pathetically) for an hour or so, nursing a horrendous migraine… Not ideal. Later on in the day, I felt much better and so we went for a walk (in a cloud of mosquitos) around the small, stunning turquoise blue lake we had parked alongside and really had a chance to soak up the views, scents of the flowers, and for Ed, to spot fish in the lake. The following morning it rained, so we hid in the truck a little while relaxing, before setting off on foot further up the valley to the largest lake; Sary Chelek. The sun came out to greet us and it wasn’t long before we were alongside the magnificent turquoise blue lake we had read about in our Bradt Guide. It made us chuckle a bit, because we had seen a lot of locals driving past all evening the previous day and all morning. It seems that Sary-Chelek is a local tourist hotspot. They come here to enjoy the lake (swim in it) and have BBQs and vodka with the family. It was lovely and made us even more relaxed whilst we watched the locals having fun too. We followed a track alongside the lake which was just about wide enough for two feet. It was a steep climb through wonderful tall grass and more pink and yellow wild flowers with butterflies dancing around everywhere like leaves in the wind. We found a nice big rock to sit on and admired the wonderful view of the lake beneath us. Steep green carpeted mountains rose from every corner of the lake with the exception of a small forested area where the locals were jumping in the cool blue waters. The area was a designated Bio-Reserve to protect endangered species such as the infamous snow leopard, lynx and ibex. I got the binoculars out of my bag and raised my eyes to the peaks in the hope of spotting something. No such luck. Even in the warm sunshine, there was still ice at the very tops of the triangular mountains. After enjoying the lake, we followed the track back to the truck and beyond, walking down the path we had driven up the previous morning. Black thunder clouds rolled in behind us, but the air was mild. We didn’t mind a spot of rain and instead sat at a view point looking down at the green valley below us. On the ascent back to the truck we passed a mini-bus which had spilled its human contents on the side of the road! They were a lovely Kyrgyz family enjoying the scenery as well. It was hilarious, because within minutes, they had beckoned us over, whipped out vodka (which they insisted on us drinking) and soon they were piling Ed’s arms with bread, home-made dough-balls and green peppers. What made me giggle the most was that when Ed’s hands were no longer free (piled with food), the father of the group slipped a half drunk bottle of vodka into Ed’s pocket so he couldn’t refuse. It was hilarious! We chatted for a while and told them how much we loved Kyrgyzstan and the people were so kind. The whole family were tipsy and the replies were ‘yes, Kyrgyzstan is the friendliest country and we don’t care about the Government, we just want to have fun!’ It was an interesting comment – and they were definitely having fun. They all piled back in the mini-bus. It turned out one of the family had dropped his camera further up the mountain and when he returned (camera in hand) they set off again down the hill. We waved them off cheerily, again our hearts warmed by the generosity of strangers (and by the shot of vodka they had made us knock back!). Hehe. We spent a second night parked alongside the small lake, before descending the mountain the following morning and re-tracing the charismatic scenery on route back to the main road. Once we had made it back to civilisation, we pulled over for lunch and (luckily had a full mobile signal) and so managed to Skype the Crocker House. Joanne and Ed were home, and the entire thing (with a 3 second delay) was hilarious and it was nice to see everyone’s faces, albeit very blurry ones. Later that afternoon (Sunday 8th June 2014) we drove a most wonderful road following the turquoise Naryn River north through a stunning rocky gorge. The tight meandering hairpins and perfect tarmac would have to make it a road worth visiting by the likes of Top Gear or James Bond (we mused). Eventually we dropped down from the highest point of the gorge to the Toktogul Reservoir, a massive blue expanse of water that looked like a sea. Moody black, blue and purple clouds rolled above the mountains over the reservoir as we descended down to it. This coincided with a wonderful sunset of golden yellows and the scene was majestically atmospheric…. Very, very memorable. We stared in awe of the colours. I have never seen so many shades of blue in the sky, the water and the mountains. Just as the rain started spattering on the roof of the truck, Ed spotted an off road track that would conceal us from the road, but give us an amazing view of the reservoir, and so we managed another fantastic camp spot. The following morning, we were also lucky enough to the see the reservoir in the sunshine before heading further north through more of the wondrous scenery Kyrgyzstan had to offer. Within the space of one day, we passed though lowland rocky grasslands, another stunning grey rocky gorge with a beautiful gushing river alongside, the highest pass in Kyrgyzstan (>3600mASL) and suddenly we arrived on an alpine grass plateau filled to the brim with yurts and beautiful horses, grazing wild with their young flighty foals. Cows, sheep and goats also ran wild (including onto the road ahead of us!). It was a mesmerising scene with wild pink and yellow alpine flowers carpeting the plateau and a beautiful silver ribbon of a stream glimmering in the centre of it all. Ed was convinced there were trout in it. We must have come at the perfect time, as we were witnessing new families assembling their yurts, the high plateau being their summer grazing pastures. Locals sold milk and dried yoghurt balls alongside the road and every now and then there was a small BBQ cooking shashlik. There was a relaxed party-like atmosphere in the air as it seemed the local Kyrgyz were welcoming the summer sun and the bright green grass with open arms. Beautiful. After around an hour or so of enjoying the plateau, the road diverged, and we took a dirt track to the east, waving goodbye to the near-perfect tarmac road which continued north to Bishkek (Capital of Kyrgyzstan). The sun was fading and we managed to find a very lovely night-spot by a gentle bubbling stream, hiding just off the road in the trees and bushes. The following morning (Tuesday 10th June), Ed got his pump out and filled the water tank with the fresh mountain water from the stream and then we set off in the direction of Lake Issykul. Another long day of driving ahead of us, we passed through more wonderful scenery which included a red sandstone gorge and another beautiful river. Pretty leafy Kyrgyz villages and more rolling wild meadow pastures passed us by, always with stunning mountains in the distance, which in their twisted awesomeness, somehow they managed to look more like they belonged in an oil painting rather than actual reality. At the end of a very long day, with the sun beating down, we arrived at a small bustling village called Korchor in the evening sunlight. Fresh bread was being cooked in huge Tandoor ovens and fruit and veg stalls lined the road in an exciting bazaar. We were running low on fresh food including bread, veg and eggs, so we decided to pull over and get stuck in. After frequenting nearly all the stalls and some small shops, we returned to the truck to find a yellow van parked tightly alongside the truck, with a young lad hunched underneath the winch-plate. He was very cheekily eyeing up a huge metal shackle that Ed had used to connect the winch hook to the truck. Even as we approached the truck from the opposite side, the lad didn’t flinch. Ed wanted to walk up to him and shout ‘Oi’ as loudly as humanly possible, leading the lad to likely bang his head under the truck. Ed however, did not shout, but approached him quietly. The lad must have seen the shadow of his legs, and he jumped out of his skin and then scurried off, as did the yellow van alongside us. Cheeky buggers. After that, we thought best to drive on that evening and after a further 40km we reached the western (and very salty) edge of Lake Issykul. We spotted a dirt-track that took us almost down to the salt encrusted shore-line and we managed to find a couple of trees to hide behind and provide must needed cover, and shade. Lake Isskykul is the second largest alpine lake in the world at over 1700mASL with its blue depths reached more than 400m deep. It is partially saline and geothermally heated, and although winter temperatures in Kyrgyzstan plummet well into minus figures in winter, the lake never freezes. The following morning we explored the western salty end on foot, spotting curious red plants poking through the salt encrusted sand. They looked like the top of a ‘reed’, but they were red…. Very strange (see photos). Returning to the truck we continued back to the main road and then travelled due east along the banks of the lake. The lakes northern shore was lined with beautiful snow-capped mountains and the shore-line opposite us (the southern shore) soon began to reveal stunning red sandy beaches with a back drop of young leafy trees (possibly poplars). At times the scenery looked like Greece (my favourite Island; Skiathos). It was tranquil and truly stunning. The sun shone warmly and after passing several stunning ‘beachy’ spots, we finally decided to get the truck down to the beach. We found a small little cove of our own, got the towels, sun-cream and ice cold cola out of the fridge and then did something we never expected to do on this trip in these land-locked countries…. We lazed on the beach. Lush. We also dipped our tootsey toes into what I can only describe as the ‘fluffy’ waters of the lake. The temperature was cool but not bitter by any means, and within seconds our skin was used to the water. In hindsight, we should have got our swims stuff on, but we just lazed on the beach instead enjoying the slopping sound of the waves on the shore (the only true give away that we weren’t by the sea). Behind us, pretty gnarled red sandstone formations and miniature gorges added further drama and majesty to the lake-side scenery. If Kyrgyzstan was selling land, we were musing about a wooden shack on our very own stretch of beach. Lol! They do flights straight to the Capital (Bishkek) from London by the way! That evening, we drove further alongside the lake and up into a valley (Jeti Oguz) which housed the most dramatic red sandstone rock formations of the region. These comprised a series of seven large square-shape pinnacles of sandstone which were a dark red ochre and weathered into wonderful horizontal striations, making them look textured and even more dramatic. We spent the night over-looking the rocks in the car park of a ‘Sanatorium’ built just beneath the formations (during Soviet times) and to our surprise, providing a Butlins-like holiday resort for the locals (minus the entertainment). A beautiful call to prayer (while we tucked into Ed’s yummy potatoe curry) reminded us that we were still in a Muslim country, as did some of the holiday makers walking around in traditional dress. There were an equal amount of western dressed locals as well however. Every seemed relaxed and happy to be on their holidays. We met one such lady the following morning as we were exiting the Sanatorium gates to get a closer look at the sandstone formations. Her name was Gulnara and she stopped us at the gate with a kind hello, asking where we were from. We still obviously stood out like sore thumbs even in a Kyrgyz touristy spot. We chatted for a little while and then she introduced her family to us and insisted we join her for tea. As we were all packed ready for a hike in the hills (into the Valley of the Flowers), we explained to her where our truck was parked and that we would return later in the evening, and is possible try and catch up with her. It was another blue sky, warm sunny day as we ascended into the Valley of the Flowers. The guide book promised wild tulips, poppies and even mushrooms, but (not disappointed) we spotted pretty pale yellow clematis, wild geraniums and dainty cerise pink flowers that we couldn’t name. The path followed the twists and turns of a shining aquamarine gushing stream, with sturdy thick wooden bridges occasionally crossing over it flanked by steep sided green clad grey rocky walls covered in spruce trees (growing at impossible angles). After a couple of miles, the valley opened up into wonderful grass pasture dotted with yurts and beautiful glossy horses with their sweet wobbly foals grazing wild and enjoying the cool waters of the stream. Golden rocks littered the landscape making a picturesque alpine scene (except it was hot, hot, hot in the sun). (Doc Ems, you would absolutely love Kyrgyzstan. There are horses everywhere grazing freely and they are so, so beautiful!). We found a quiet lunch spot along an adjacent tributary of the stream before descending back down the valley towards the truck. On route down the valley, a large MAN overlander was tackling one of the sturdy wooden bridges and driving towards us. It was the Dutch contingent we had met weeks back in Kazakhstan the morning of our Kazakh-Uzbek crossing; Jeroen, Virginia and Angelien. Sadly Jeroen’s wife had been taken ill with thrombosis and had to return to Holland for treatment. We said a quick hello (Jeroen didn’t initially recognise Ed due to his ‘now’ wild bushy beard) and promised to drive the truck up the valley so we could catch up properly later in the evening. We continued to the truck and had a nice cup of tea and some biscuits, leaving the back door open just incase Gulnara came by. An hour later, we thought it best to continue up the mountain to meet the Dutch, and just as we were about to drive away, Gulnara and her family appeared around the corner making a beeline straight for us. Soon we had been invited into the old Soviet hotel block of the Sanatorium, which looked much nicer inside than out. A table set for tea awaited us, with home-made cakes, biscuits, cold meats, traditional Kyrgyz dough balls. It was lovely actually. Gulnara’s daughter made us tea, and her mother sat at the table, so there were three generations of the family, all eager to talk to us, including Gulnara’s nephew. Gulnara’s English was fantastic, which she had learned from having American neighbours (now returned back to the states). She wanted to hear about our families, the UK and our trip and we all chatted away merrily for over an hour. We then wished Gulnara and her family goodbye leaving her our details and inviting her to stay with us if she was ever in the UK. It was a lovely experience and we won’t forget it. Late in the evening, we then set off up the dirt track back into the Valley of the Flowers and found the two Dutch vehicles at the top amidst the lush grass, horses and yurts. Soon we had been invited into Jeroen’s MAN truck and we were being treated to Jeroen’s edited videos of the Mangistau region of Kazakhstan and their adventures in Tajikistan. We also shared our pictures of the Pamir, which Jeroen had missed due to the violence in Khorog. The following morning (Friday 13th June) we waved goodbye to the Dutch and headed into Karakol for supplies which included a roast chicken! (I was so excited), before bumping into the Dutch again. Jeroen kindly offered us his Garmin GPS software, so we jumped at the chance to download and subsequently spent the remainder of the afternoon doing just that, parked in the Karakol Valley. A Russian couple also came to join us and we shared beer and food (the Russians brought dried fish and dried fish eggs in strips which I had never tried before. They were very salty! On Saturday 14th June we had to make our way to the Kyrgyz-Kazakh border passed an annoying checkpoint where the border guard took Ed into a back office and cornered him for a bribe. Ed however, bravely shrugged his shoulders and sauntered off snatching back our paperwork in disgust (I blame the beard)…. See pictures. About 2km before the border, we bumped into a couple who had hitch-hiked to Almaty and were now cycling through Kyrgyzstan! Their names were Wesley and Aurelie (English and French) and they were so sweet and lovely, we jumped out of the truck to chat to them. Ed filled their water bottles, bestowed them with our left over Kyrgyz Som and gave them a bungee cord to help fix their bags to their bikes which they had purchased in Almaty. They had decided against hitch-hiking in the Stans and we completely understood, because locals would expect money for hitch-hiking. If you are a tourist (especially) you will be expected to pay for the ride. Subsequently the couple had purchased bikes and fair play to them! As we swapped details, Wesley told us that they had bought a house with land in Bulgaria and he gave us the address and insisted we go and stay there, even though Aurelie and himself were travelling for nearly two years and would not be home. When they finally did get home, they wanted to try and be self-sufficient as much as possible. We thought they were a remarkable couple and we definitely would like to visit their small holding in Bulgaria on our return journey home! Ed and I mused; maybe we would buy a house and land there too and become Wesley and Aurelie’s neighbours! The dream of a beautiful home with land is still a reality in Bulgaria as they had purchased theirs for only £6K. Ed and I found them inspirational and definitely had lots to think about after meeting them. The border crossing was very easy and took just under 2hrs. As usual the truck was a hit with the border guards and they all wanted to get in (the cab and the back) to look at it. On the Kazakh side, one particular border guard insisted that his friends take photo’s of him as he posed in front of the truck (much to mine and Ed’s amusement). We then followed him into his office and he pointed to a brand new Toyota Land Cruiser which was parked out of the window, insisting he had paid $40,000 for it. He then began to coax Ed to swap it for the truck as he liked it so much! It was hilarious really and he wouldn’t back down until Ed made a joke saying ‘it’s a great vehicle but how will my girlfriend wash her hair?!’ Hehe. And then we were in Kazakhstan again. We spent 6 days driving north-east through the country to the Russian border, which we crossed on Friday 20th June (before my Kazakh visa expired on 22nd June). Our previous visit to Kazakhstan surprised me, challenging my pre-conceived ides of this remarkable country and our second visit was no different. On our first afternoon we followed the Charyn River, a beautiful silver ribbon flowing from the Tian Chen mountains beyond the Chinese border into a beautiful valley of long grassy undulating wild meadows. Ed thought it one of the most beautiful off-road drives so far and (albeit we didn’t go down it) we spotted the steepest off-road track we have ever seen in our lives. It was possibly more than 60 degrees and dropped steeply down to a small farmstead. We spent that night in a pretty flower meadow tucked away from the road enjoying the sunset over the green rolling hills. Delightful. The following day (Sunday 15th June) we enjoyed the Charyn Canyon and the ‘Valley of the Castles’ which comprised a stunning red sandstone gorge with a footpath down the middle and striated pinnacles of rock balanced in awesome shapes and positions either-side. The walls of the canyon were about 20m high and we walked the few miles down into the charismatic valley towards the Charyn River and sat along its pebbly banks for a few hours dipping our feet in the cool water. It was a hot day. Unfortunately we had to share the canyon and river bank with many other tourists, but it was still wonderful. On returning to the truck (which un-sensibly we had parked at the top of the canyon on a precipice) an almighty wind had built up and Ed was truly worried that the truck was going to be blown over. It was quick scary walking up to the vehicle actually. It was rocking horribly in the wind, so we quickly climbed in and very carefully Ed drove us to a place of safety! It was hair-raising for about 5 minutes and we wondered if the locals had been thinking ‘what a silly place to park’. We got some fantastic photos of the truck over-looking the canyon though! ;p That evening we went off-road again down a track from the north side of the Charyn Nature Reserve, and we think it was probably a dis-used track. Likely others had been put off by the huge ‘STOP’ sign as we drove onto the track, which naughtily we ignored…. We ended up in craggy dark red rocky hills covered in grey-green worm wood shrubs and we caught several glimpses of the gouge in the red earth below that was the Charyn Canyon, lined with leafy green vegetation. That night we slept in a spooky spot in the middle of nowhere in our very own mini red rocky valley as the wind and rain came in. There wasn’t a soul for miles and miles. The following morning (Monday 16th June) we returned to the main road (after spotting some old military bunkers alongside the steep banks of the Charyn) and then it clicked why the road was dis-used. Luckily the military bunker was dis-used as well…. The remainder of the day comprised a wonderful pretty drive through a variety of landscapes from sandy desert-steppe, to craggy rocky valleys, French-like arable land lined with mature trees and wonderful rolling wild flower meadows. The sun shone brilliantly and our hearts felt light and happy. That evening we parked alongside a lush beautiful stream surrounded by knee high grass, wild orchids and dancing with butterflies and dragonflies. It was divine and so un-like anything we were expecting to see in Kazakhstan. On Tuesday 17th June we continued north. Generally the roads had been very good until beyond Taldy Korgan where we stopped to register ourselves at a hotel that morning (tourists have to do this every 5 days). Prior to Taldy-Korgan we had attempted to off-road to some Petroglyphs (Eshkiholmes; as mentioned in our Bradt Guide) but sadly the bridge over the river (as described in the guide) was blocked by a huge blue gate, so mental note to inform Bradt (the Kazakh Guide is out of date, now published some 5 years ago). Disappointed, we continued north on terribly pot holed roads alongside more arable land lined with wild flowers, alternating with desert-steppe. At times the landscape was so flat, there was no horizon. For the most part however, mountains remained to the east, and when we finally parked up for the night alongside a most beautiful stream, the snow on the Tian Shen peaks shone pink in a wonderful sunset. It was a special spot and we got our deck chairs out and really soaked up the view and the atmosphere that evening. Ed had practically parked in the river, and the following morning he rose early and collected up his fishing gear. I watched him (at 6am) through the window casting joyously into the water. He was very happy and it was heart warming to watch. Unfortunately there weren’t fishes biting, although a gull had been swooping around and it had managed to catch a few tiddlers. We spent the entire morning (Wednesday 18th June) enjoying the river and the views, breakfasting in the sun and catching up with washing. It was lovely. We managed to put a good few hours of driving in later in the day and found a parking spot for the night (off road again) in a hollow of desert-steppe overlooked by a red craggy outcrop of weathered rock. The road had been exhausting and the Kazakh heat made it all the more uncomfortable. We mused that the road builder should be condemned. The tarmac at times looked good, but every few metres a ridge would appear in it and our bums would leave our seats. Also it was riddled with potholes. We must have been averaging 30mph since Taldy-Korgan. It was tiresome. On Thursday 19th June we pressed on towards Semipalatinsk (renamed ‘Semey’ in Kazakh and the Russian border. The roads remained awful until we reached a cross-roads near where we diverted north-west to Semey. From this point onwards the tarmac was as fresh as a daisy and we made good progress, eventually camping out in the desert-steppe some 30km south of Semey. The Bradt guide had informed us that Semipalantisnsk was associated with forty years of Nuclear testing completed by the Soviets from 1949. An area known as the ‘Polygon, located some 150km south-west of Semey is where more than 400 nuclear tests were carried out, with an additional 300+ in underground tunnels. They even used a nuclear weapon in an attempt to dam part of the River Chargan. The resultant crater in-filled with water and is now known as the atomic lake. Ed and I desperately wanted to visit it, but looking on the maps, it was within the ‘Polygon’ – The Restricted Area, so we thought best to leave it be, albeit a minor road did traverse the south-eastern side of the area on our maps….. On Friday 20th June we woke to more sunshine and soon arrived at Semey, hoping to stop and explore the town. It turned out however to be a very large place, bustling with traffic and we spotted very few places we would be happy parking the truck. Consequently we continued to the Russian border one day early. Our final 80km through Kazakhstan comprised spruce and ash forest lining the road which didn’t make any sense after the desert-steppe we had witnessed only one hour previously. We stopped for a rest and then arrived at the border around 2pm. It took around 3 hours to cross and this was mainly because it was a very busy border and we had to queue. Also the Kazakh border guards detained us for about 15 minutes because they had miss-read our visas and thought we only had a 5 day transit visa, confusing themselves (and us) with the migration card we carried from entering Kazakhstan, which stated that we had to register (as tourists) every 5 days…. Nothing to do with our visas…. We were a bit worried at first as we thought there was something wrong with our registration documents that we had obtained in Taldy-Korgan, but eventually it clicked for them (and us) that they hadn’t read the dates on our visas properly which stated we had a double entry and 60 days. They finally realised it was they’re mistake and without acknowledging it, or even indicating that we could proceed, they both literally ran away from us….. Ed shouted goodbye to them (slightly sarcastically) and then we made a sharp exit as well. Before the detainment, they had already stamped our passports anyway, so if Ed and I wanted to, we could have made a run for it! lol. Luckily we didn’t have too (mental note to learn Russian if we ever come to these countries again….. ). The Russian border guards were much more professional and faster and once again we found ourselves in Mother Russia. It was a glorious evening and the scenery changed to arable rolling fields lined with trees as soon as we crossed the border. It was bizarre after the desolate desert-steppe we had not long departed, and it made us wonder how clever the Russians were if they had knowingly chosen the magical line where desert-steppe became rich agricultural land. We enjoyed watching the long grasses and wild flowers bobbing in the mild breeze and every time we passed a river or lake (and they were plentiful too) the banks were covered in Russians tanning themselves and swimming in the cool waters. It was Friday night and the locals definitely knew how to enjoy themselves. We didn’t blame them one bit, and it made us look back on the Stans. No one there had time to kick back and enjoy the weekend. We were even more cheered when we happened upon our first big supermarket in nigh on two months! I was so excited, we jumped out of the truck and grabbed a trolly, filling it with ‘EVERYTHING’ including lots of meat, wine and cold fruit yoghurts. Both of us had been craving a healthy dose of meat, as the past few weeks we have mainly been living off potatoes, eggs and pasta. We have made amazing meals with these stable ingredients however. Gwen would be proud of our omelettes and some of our potatoe curries have literally been ‘immense’ (in the words of Nessa). That evening we found our own special spot alongside a stunningly beautiful river and parked the truck in a hollow situated within a pretty meander. The banks of the river were covered in lush grass, wild flowers, blue and white butterflies, turquoise damsel flies and some of the biggest dragon flies Ed and I had ever seen! Also as the sun faded, we were even luckier to see a small otter-like mammal swimming back and fore the river right in front of us carrying reeds. Ed thought perhaps it was ‘ratty’ a water vole, but it looked too big. Ed also thought it too small to be an otter or mink, so we are not entirely sure what it was, but it was delightful to watch. The following morning we got the deck chairs out and lazed by the river in the sun (after filling our bellies with a fry up now that we had some proper sausages!). We had also purchased Heinz Beans, but the label was in Cyrillic which amused us greatly. Earlier in the morning however, a local farmer had actually come to cut the long grass for hay. Firstly Ed asked him if it was ok for us to be in his hay field by the river and he nodded kindly, and (in Russian) Ed thinks he said ‘you are welcome’. Which was lovely. Secondly, a few minutes later a big red tractor appeared to cut the hay and within five minutes it had broken down! Subsequently we were left to enjoy the pretty flowers and butterflies before all was chopped down. The farmer later returned around 2.30pm and by then Ed had managed to sunburn his chest and the pair of us were in very relaxed happy moods and ready to push on. We drove a few hours through more rolling hills and arable fields akin to Wiltshire (near Stone Henge) and in some places even Kent. It was a revelation to see such a tiny corner of Russia, which is deemed in the minds of many to be a stark place; and cold. This area of Russia was none of these things. It was hitting around 35 degrees in the heat of the day and Ed and I were roasting. On Saturday evening (21st June) we found another fantastic camp spot at the corner of another hay field, but this time it contained mature trees, Again we parked in a hollow of the field, out of site of the road and shielded by some mature ash trees. Again as dusk approached, we heard squarking noises out of the window. Gazing out, we were treated to the sight of an owl hunting stealthily just out of our window and the squarking noise was her chicks from a tree not 10 metres from where we were parked. We watched in silence until the sun went down enjoying the spectacle. On Sunday 22nd June we arrived at Barnaul, a large Russian town where we were able to buy a dongle for more internet access (if we had a good signal). It was another very hot day and we wandered (very relaxed) about the town in the sunshine. I was especially happy as I could don some shorts and a T-shirt now that we had exited the Stans. Barnaul was pleasant and had a town square which included a large fountain, filling a shallow rectangular area with water. Amusingly the locals and their children were cooling off in the fountain and treating it like the local Lido! We joined in too and sat on the wall of the structure, dipping our feet into the water. It was lovely. We also found another supermarket and bought more food, aware that we needed to stock up before entering Mongolia on 25th June. That afternoon we drove south-east from Barnaul and spotted more and more locals sunbathing and swimming in the river which flowed south from Barnaul. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves, relaxed and happy, and we couldn’t help feeling the same way too. Before Barnaul the scenery comprised more arable rolling fields and meadows, and we also spotted large allotment-like areas, filled to the brim with very quaint and beautiful ‘small’ houses. They were two stories and generally about the size of a large garden shed. Ed thought they were summer houses for the locals. It all reminded us of the ‘Good Life’ again. Everyone was tending to their vegetables and it was all so pristine and well cared for. The Russians in these towns were obviously a proud and hardworking bunch. On Sunday night we settled in a spot within a spruce wood during a muggy lightening storm. We had struggled to find anywhere suitable as every inch of the land either side of the road comprised private farmland. Eventually we happened upon a track and it wound into the woodland. There were bright orange flowers dotted about and (sadly) mosquitos in their hundreds, so we jumped in the truck sharpish and only a couple of the beasties got in. We woke to more sunshine and continued our journey south-east, now in the Altai region of Russia. We were informed that Vladimir Putin has a summer villa in this region, so we kept our eyes peeled for it! Very soon the rolling hills of the past previous days were replaced by mountains. We passed dense spruce forests, and craggy granite hills. At one point the road unexpectedly rose sharply to over 1600mASL, which amused us greatly considering only the previous morning (at Barnaul) we had been at 99mASL… one of our lowest elevations on the trip. By late afternoon the Altai mountains began to rise in the distance and the sloping green fields either side of the road were filled with beautiful orange flowers in their thousands. These were accompanied by bright pink wild peonies and an array of purple and blue flowers including grandmothers bonnet. We drank in the colours. They were glorious and they seemed to go on and on either side of the road. That evening we found a spot next to another stream after driving through a dramatic granite gorge. Amusingly, as well as grazed grass underfoot, the truck was also parked in a patch of Marijuama growing wild! It’s not the first time we have spotted a load either. It is now Wednesday 24th June and our Mongolian visa begins tomorrow so we intend to be at the border early in the morning. We can’t quick believe that the truck has made it this far and we are so pleased to be here. It truly has been a remarkable experience so far. We have had some hairy moments, but for the most part we have been enjoying ourselves and taking each day more and more in our stride. Ed has dreamed of Mongolia for so long, and I am so very happy to be the person who will be sharing his first glimpses of it. We are aiming to spend 6 weeks in this special country and we are not entirely sure if we will get any phone or internet access. Hopefully we will! You will know about it if we do. One thing is for sure, Ed is likely to get use of his winch! You should see him by the way. He has the biggest beard growth of his life and he has shaved his hair off…. He looks like a young Walter White from Breaking Bad and even the Russians are frightened of him…. I am thinking of buying him a black hat….. lol. I’ll put a picture of his current growth online. You be the judge! With much love. (Hairy-Ed) and Ros.
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Ed and the Truck on the Koitezek Pass (4271m ASL) on the Pamir Highway, known as the 'Roof of the World', Tajikistan. ![]() Hello! Sorry it has been such a while since we updated the blog. Since Bukhara we have not been able to find WiFi and our phones have had virtually no signal. During our entire time in Tajikistan we didn’t receive one text message! We are now in Kyrgyzstan and have been able to buy an internet dongle, so for the first time, I am writing the blog in the comfort of the truck! It’s been up and down a lot in the last few weeks and the adventure has been a little too adventurous at times... From the 12th to 18th May we enjoyed the sites of Bukhara, Gijduvan (where we purchased some traditional Uzbek Pottery) and Samarkand. The weather stayed hot for our entire duration in Uzbekistan. Bukhara was fantastic and hilariously became a bottle neck for fellow overlanders. We met so many lovely people. In Bukhara, we loved most the 45m Minaret which was built in 1127 and avoided destruction by Genghis Khan because he liked it so much himself. Apparently during his march to Bukhara (early 13th Century), he could see the tower from afar, and thankfully (for us), it still stands today, because it too impressed him so much. It is made out of intricately carved sandstone with very few ceramics. When we were admiring it, lots of local school children linked hands around its base. It took a few of them to match its circumference! From Bukhara, we travelled to Samarkand via Gijduvan. That evening we were embroiled in another black market diesel escapade. Ed paid $100 for 120 litres from some men who had practically forced us into the purchase. It was a good deal and because the diesel was already in canisters in the back of their Russian Lada, Ed agreed reluctantly to buy some. That night we learned the signal for diesel. Its thumb and pinky pointing out, with the waggle of the hand from side to side. After completing the transaction and handing over a crisp $100 note to the annoying diesel pests, they started shouting that they wanted $200! Double the agreed price. Well at that point Ed had already hopped sharpish back into the truck because we had heard a ‘buzz buzz’ of a police car and didn’t want to be caught buying black market diesel from the side of the road. Ed told them where they could shove it and we drove off. It was that night (we think) that our diesel was stolen. All 260 litres (plus) of it. We were oblivious of the theft however, until several days later when we were driving south from Samarkand to the Tajik border near Denau. Samarkand was remarkable, but more modern and much larger than both Khiva and Bukhara. We enjoyed all it had to offer as best we could, as unfortunately for us, our visit coincided with the Uzbek Presidential visit, and the most amazing buildings in the city (the Ragistan) were closed, and on our second day (attempting to see it), all the roads into Samarkand were blocked by police! In the end, we caught several taxi’s (squashed in with the locals) through the winding bumpy streets from the south side of the city. It was a hilarious and exhilarating experience, and although we never managed to see the Ragistan, we still enjoyed the impressive Bazaar and the remaining monuments Samarkand had to offer. The most beautiful of these being the Gur-i Amir, the final resting place of Amir Timur, the man responsible for many of the remarkable structures in and around the city. Inside his Mausoleum, the room containing his tomb was the most beautiful vision my eyes had so far witnessed along the Silk Road. There was a dim light, but the room glowed with a royal blue hue faceted with intricate gold designs. Every inch of the walls and ceiling were decorated and beautiful slabs of pale green onyx lined the lower parts of the walls. It was truly stunning. Ed and I had it all to ourselves. It was breath taking. Because we didn’t make it into the Ragistan, I was more determined than ever to come back again soon with Mam and Dad. Now I knew my way around and had an excuse to return! Later that evening, we drove south out of Samarkand and Ed decided to pull over to transfer some diesel from the large tank to the main tank. It was then we realised that nearly every drop of our diesel had been stolen…. We felt sick. The lock was broken on the main tank and they even stole Ed’s 20 litre metal canisters, one storing our emergency diesel and the other oil…. Our fate now, was to return towards Samarkand and begin the arduous task of finding more black market diesel…. It took 2.5hrs before we were on the road south again…. To top our day off, we found a rural village in the mountains south of Samarkand and Ed pulled over to enquire with some locals (selling rhubarb on the side of the road) whether we could park up for the night outside their house. The husband put his arm around Ed and then showed him his drive around the side of the house which was gated. It was ideal. We were tired and it was time to stop. Unfortunately, they wanted some money (which was acceptable), but the wife asked for 100,000 Som (£20)! Ed scoffed at her. Then the husband asked for $100!... When Ed refused them both, they agreed finally to 10,000 Som and the wife gave Ed the evilest look of death achievable. If it hadn’t been so late in the day we would have carried on looking, but given it was getting dark and we were ascending a hill into the mountains, this was the only even spot we had seen. Because we didn’t feel very welcome, we made sure we got up early the next day to continue our ascent up the mountain. We woke to another glorious day and the views were spectacular. The road looked like something from a James Bond film, except instead of racing around the hair pins in a sports car, we had a cheery birds eye view and our maximum speed was probably about 10 miles per hour! The truck doesn’t have exhaust breaks, so engine breaking (with the gears) is our only way of stopping. It was better for Ed anyway, as he could enjoy the view. Even more spectacular than the craggy rocky edifies covered in spring green was the sight of a peculiar bird flying past the windscreen! It was azure blue with an orange back. Such a colourful, beautiful thing. We checked in the trusty bird book and it is called a ‘Roller’ (we are turning into right twitchers). We thought it was a lucky spot, but as the days rolled on, ‘Rollers’ were as common as magpies in this part of Central Asia. Fantastic. So our penultimate day in Uzbekistan was spent admiring the mountains, which quickly gave way to a flat sandy plateau where men could be spotted in every village making mud bricks out of the clayey sandy soils. Also on that day, we met two Brit Cyclists (Gayle and John), a lovely couple from the Merseyside area of the UK. They had been on the road for two years! And like us, they were heading to Tajikistan and the border town of Denau for the crossing. We made them a cup of Yorkshire tea and they told us all about their cycling adventures. They were in their forties (we are assuming) and they were truly inspirational characters. They knew exactly what made them happy and they were sticking to that thought and continuing to live the life they wanted. It gave us a lot to think about. We bade them farewell and continued through the sandy plateau for the remainder of the day, which eventually became a more undulating landscape culminating in miniature sandy gorges. Wonderful. Some 50km from Denau, we spent the night in our very own mini sandy gorge. The Sandstone cliffs either side were about 10m high, and the miniature valley in between was filled with short hay like grass, poppies and hundreds of beautiful green and yellow grass hoppers. Just as we were about to explore the little valley, a herdsmen on a donkey appeared on the hill above us and he slowly funnelled his flock of sheep and goats towards us. We guessed it was his land. We waited patiently for him to descend and then respectfully Ed approached him and asked if we could spend the night in the valley. He nodded genially and went on his way. I caught his eye and thanked him with the Uzbek gesture of putting your right hand to your heart and then Ed and I settled down for the night. It was a special spot, and the approval of the herdsmen made it more so. The following day (Saturday 17th) we made it to the Uzbek-Tajik border near Denau and had the most irritating crossing so far. On the Uzbek side there was no one. Just us. It still took about 3hrs to get through. The guards were immature and insisted on going through all of our photos and videos on the laptops. They couldn’t care less what was in the truck. They just wanted to be entertained. Even more painful for us, they wanted another $265 for the truck to leave the country. This was on top of the $400 we had paid for it to enter. What a joke. On the Tajik side, it was much faster and friendlier except they wanted $98 from us. Ninety dollars for the truck to enter the country (sigh), three dollars for some ecological tax (?) and a further five dollars for something we didn’t even understand. And then we entered Tajikistan, the country Ed was looking forward to most as it is the land of the Pamir Highway. It was time to test the truck’s metal, and our own bodies at high altitude as we would be scaling to heights of 4665m above sea level. All this was hard to imagine however, after crossing the border. We were transported from desert to a green oasis. Rice paddies lined the road, fields of green wheat and alliums bobbed in the muggy warm air and water was in abundance. Unlike Uzbekistan which was green from irrigation, in Tajikistan the snow-capped mountains in the distance fed a myriad of streams and tributaries from which the verdant landscape drank its fill. It was a sub-tropical paradise and remained so for our first two days in Tajikistan. We spent our first night by a milky green lake, which was in fact a Reservoir (Nurek), off-set by red ochre mountains and fresh spring grass. The following day, we passed rolling flower meadows interspersed with sandy drier sections and constantly goats, sheep, cows and donkeys would fill the road bringing us to a halt. We would watch from the cab as men on horses pushed them along to new pastures and the other locals (in cars around us) would beep their horns impatiently, while Ed and I just loved to watch the hundreds of animals being coerced along. It was fantastic. Even more a delight (for me). We pulled off road down a sandy track looking for a lunch spot and there on the floor was a tortoise! I squealed and jumped out of the truck, picking the poor thing up. Obviously the sudden G-Force of being projected into the air was too much for the little beastie and he kindly did a simultaneous number 1 & 2, just missing my legs and the cab seat by centimetres. I really wanted a photo with him, but as I had scared him so much, I decided to pop him back down. He scurried (quite quickly I thought) under a thistle and sadly for me…. that was that. Later that day we drove through the town on Kulob, before rising again into more mountains. At 1900mASL we found a wonderful spot for the night, off the road and facing the view of the valley from which we had ascended. Again more herdsmen passed us and seemed happy and content for us to be parked up. They smiled and waved and we did the same. It was cold that night and we hadn’t felt cold for a while after the desert sun of Uzbekistan. The following morning (Monday 19th May) we ascended further up the mountain before descending into a world of magnificent red rocks and green spring flowers. It was a fantastic road. It had rained overnight and there had been miniature landslides. We were stopped at one point as a machine was up on high clearing loose rock and stones to prevent a new landslide! We watched in awe as massive boulders were pushed down the cliff, bouncing off the track in front of us before walloping further down into the valley. It was impressive to watch and we laughed at the lack of H&S. hehe The red mountains finally gave way to our first view of Afghanistan and the mighty river Panj. In the drizzle, we looked down in awe at the scale of the valley sides below us. We would spend the next four days and three nights skirting the border of Afghanistan on route to Khorog, the gateway to the Pamir. At first I was daunted. Afghanistan….. As the days went by however, you quickly realised that it was the same as Tajikistan. The road was a giant gorge of grey sheer cliffs with the equally grey Panj gushing below. On our side of the river, was a road, sometimes a single track with ‘just’ enough room alongside a precipice some 10m metres above the river… (on my side of the truck!). On the Afghan side, the same startling cliffs, but no road. A mere track (called an Ovir) followed the river and our road. Sometimes we would spot people walking along it with their donkey’s, and the occasional bicycle. Every 20km or so, the grey sheer rock would open out slightly to reveal a small village clinging to the edge of the precipice. The villages seemed to alternate on the Tajik and Afghan side with the meandering of the river. It was astounding though, because the villages were leafy and green. Mulberry trees and beautifully kept small holdings grew lushly, alongside mud brick buildings and livestock. It was hard to imagine a life along a cliff edge. The locals were truly hemmed in by the sheer cliffs behind them and the mighty Panj opposite. They could only go left or right along the road. Occasionally over those four days along the Panj, the scenery would look stark and oppressive (like the land of Mordor), and then it would change to majestic and other worldly. We were shocked to see pom poms of pink wild alliums growing along small grassy ledges amongst the sheer grey rock. We were also mesmerised by bright yellow spear like flowers which occasionally would fill the rock hewn valley sides where the road widened slightly. The scene looked like something from an alien world and we took lots of photos! Similarly, some of the meanders of the Panj would give way to silvery grey beaches. We walked to one such beach and sat opposite Afghanistan for a while, drinking in the atmosphere of the place. It was brooding, as the weather during our entire four day journey was as grey as the rocks hemming us in. On the beach however, I spotted some dark mahogany red, iron rich rocks where the sun had produced a metallic sheen of colour; blues, greens and purples. Fantastic! I bagged one of them and it is currently sitting in our dirty laundry bag. Hehe. And finally, on Thursday 22nd May we descended into Khorog. Our eyes focused on the road and we thought maybe a landslide had occurred, as the road into the town looked to be full of trees and all sorts. On closer inspection (we got out of the truck for a closer look) we realised it was a blockade. The trees alongside the road had been cut down and pushed onto the tarmac. Dry stone walls had been assembled and there were lumps of metal covered in tarpaulin. There were 5 men in the road guarding the blockade. The atmosphere was casual however. Not threatening. People were standing around talking and very small vehicles were using the pavement to by-pass (undeterred) through the blockade. The truck would never fit. We decided not to linger. Ed turned the truck around and we drove back the way we came. A couple of miles down the road we spotted a guest house (Serena) on the left and in the car park was the Land Rover belonging to Dagmar and Klaus, the wonderful German couple we had shared the Kazakh-Uzbek border crossing with some weeks previous. They had passed us the previous morning on route to Khorog. Obviously they hadn’t made it through either…… We were invited to park the truck next to the Land Rover by the gardener who had spotted us outside, and as Ed was parking up, I hopped out as Klaus appeared at the steps at the front of the guest house. Soon we knew the reason behind the blockade. The previous morning two people had been shot by the police. It was fuelled (apparently) by the brother of a local War Lord being arrested. Government buildings had be burnt down by the locals and subsequently the police had opened fire killing two people. Seven had been injured. The locals had built the blockade to prevent the army marching into the town and killing more people. Apparently a similar incident had occurred two years previous and the blockade had been in place for 7 weeks. It was bad news. Dreams of the Pamir Highway began to drift away. We couldn't really believe it. It was something you never expected to be so close to. We sat in the lounge of the guest house and poured over maps with Dagmar and Klaus thinking of alternative routes. It was more than 5 days back along the Panj to Dushanbe and none of us wanted to entertain the thought of retracing the exhausting road along the Panj. I contacted the British Embassy and soon after, they called Ed’s phone, but didn’t have any information. The UK GOV website had reported the incident of the 21st May and advised everyone to stay in-doors, but we knew more of what was happening than the embassy. Dagmar and Klaus hadn’t even seen the blockade the previous day. They had stopped in the guest house to rest – the same morning as the incident, and some local German charity workers living in Khorog had come to explain to them the news before getting out of town.To put an even more sour note on events, the guest house was charging $125 per night – disgustingly taking advantage of Dagmar and Klaus.The place was empty. The hostess however, gave us tea and told us that the Mayor was coming to the guest house for lunch and for a meeting regarding the blockade. She told us he would talk to us and maybe we would get through. We couldn’t believe it! We thought we would be meeting the Mayor of Khorog and suddenly everything seemed more positive. After waiting for over half an hour, the Mayor never made it to the guest house. Unsurprisingly he couldn’t get through the blockade. It was then, that we decided to drive away from Khorog and stay in convoy with the Dagmar and Klaus that night. On the way back up the road, we enquired with locals about another route to the Pamir Highway, avoiding Khorog. The only other road was through the Bartang valley, and after some enquires, we learned that it was currently impassable. Slightly defeated, we settled at a lovely spot by the Panj overlooking the mountains with the hopes to return to Khorog the next morning to check out the situation. The sun finally came out and we allowed mother nature and the glorious views of the mountains to uplift our depressed moods, as we whiled away the remainder of the day sat in our deck chairs, drinking tea and eating biscuits in the sun with Dagmar and Klaus. We couldn’t think of a nicer couple to go through this experience with. The remaining hours of the day turned into a roller coaster…… The same German charity workers that had given Dagmar and Klaus the news suddenly arrived, along with a British couple, also working in Khorog and for the same charity (Johnny and Beth). They were a fantastic, inspirational bunch of people and we chatted to them for a while, explaining how sad we were about the whole situation. Just before the sun began to set, we waved goodbye to them, pondering our fate for thte next day. Forty five minutes after we had waved goodbye however, Johannes and Johnny appeared again. Johannes was in touch with a local in Khorog and he informed us that the blockade had been temporarily cleared. If we wanted to get through we had to go ‘now’ before the blockade was re-instated. We couldn’t believe it. We packed the truck and anxiously Dagmar and Klaus did the same just as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Anxiously we drove back towards Khorog not entirely sure what awaited us. After ten minutes we had caught up with three Chinese HGVs. They were going like the clappers. Obviously they had heard the news too and were thundering towards Khorog with hopes to make it through the blockade. From that point on, we relaxed. Surely the blockade had gone. At 8.30pm in the dark, we approached the blockade. It had been cleared! Immense relief followed and we couldn’t believe our luck and the small miracle of the local charity workers spotting us eating biscuits by the Panj! As we passed through, I caught the eye of the men clearing the road and nodded to them, thanking them. They smiled and waved back. The blockade was nothing to do with tourists which was reassuring. We passed through town as fast as we could. The truck had never been driven so meanly by Ed. Dagmar and Klaus remained behind us the whole way and we finally found a place to sleep alongside the road some 15km from Khorog. We got out of the vehicles in the pitch black Pamiran night and excitedly laughed and wooped wooped by the side of the road, neither one of us believing our luck. After all the anxious hours wondering what would happen, we had made it finally onto the Pamir Highway. From Friday 23rd May, for an entire week, we transited the infamous road. The landscape grew and grew as the days progressed. Snow-capped peaks (initially in the distance), shrank, until we were at the snow line (around 3500mASL). We saw our first Yaks around this height. They are funny things. They have the square body shape of a rhino, but are shaggy and have the head of a cow. They also run really fast! (every time I tried to take a photo!). As well as Yaks, the Pamir also became known to us as the land of the Marmots. They were everywhere! Such cuties. The Pamir Marmots were much bigger than the ones we had seen in Kazakhstan. They had honey-golden hair and were proper fatties. I would describe them as beaver like, with large flat black tails and they were such characters. When they spotted you, they would freeze in funny positions, and as you drove away they would bounce away to their burrows ‘boing boing boing’. Ed and I couldn’t get enough of them. It seems neither can the locals, as they get through the harsh winter months munching on Marmot…. (sob sob). By our second day in the Pamir, we had climbed to the first high pass, around 4721mASL. There was snow all around and the views were spectacular. Altitude is odd. On route to Khorog and beyond we had climbed steadily. On the first day, both of us became a bit light headed around 3000mASL, so we decided to stop for the night and allow our bodies to adjust. At over 4000mASL your nose is really dry and you can sense the air is thin. Also the sun is so potent. There is not enough atmosphere to shield you from the UV rays, and it feels like the sun is literally penetrating your skin. Subsequently, we covered up and wore hats. The wind however rips right through you. It’s an odd experience. On Saturday 24th May, we went off-road from the Pamir Highway and spent the night by an isolated blue lake, with our own beach and miniature icebergs. It was a lovely spot – but freezing once the sun went down! The following day (still off-road), Ed was in his element. We passed through the village of Bulunkal (the most remote and coldest village in the Pamir) and soaked up the magnificent view of the valley in-which the village was contained. A beautiful lake mirrored colourful melting multi-coloured mountains of red, green, grey and blue hues. The scene literally looked like an oil painting and neither Ed and I had seen anything like it. Alongside the lake was verdant green grass, which was being grazed by hundreds of Yak. From a distance they looked like little black specs. The scale of the landscape would continue to stop us dead in our tracks. Your brain could hardly take it all in. There was so much detail, so much vastness. I can only describe the Pamir as epic. That day, we also happened upon a geyser and more marmots, before spending the night alongside a ‘salt lake’ which had an eerie white crust along its banks, highlighted by yellow dried out plants and grey green rocks. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance, and again we had the feeling of being on another planet. On Monday 26th May we made our way to Murghab, the last major town in the Pamir, and in Tajikistan. And what a place…. When we arrived, it looked inhospitable, unfriendly and alien. The buildings were mainly mud bricks and the young locals walked around in hoodies. We had to stop and stock up on food and diesel, but after our initial view of the town, we drove straight through it, not stopping and found an isolated valley to park up for the night about 10km out of town. The following day however, we did explore Murghab. The sun was out, and actually, our initial judgemental impressions turned out to be totally off the mark. We found the bazaar and finally got to buy some fresh fruit and veg, eggs and biscuits. The locals were really approachable and we enjoyed going in and out of the shops, which comprised metal 'storage' boxes that reminded me of site cabins at work. In one of the shops, we spotted a Canadian couple which we had passed the previous day on route to Murghab. They had enquired about an excursion to visit some petroglyphs in a cave (Shakhty) some 20km south of Murghab. They needed to fill a 4x4 with four people however, to make the cost worthwhile, so kindly they asked us to come too! We said yes and arranged to meet them at noon the following day. On Wednesday 28th May we found the Canadian couple (Audrey and Jaleck) at their guest house, and after lunch we met our driver and were whisked off-road towards the caves. The ride was ridiculous. The guide drove as fast as he could without destroying the vehicle and subsequently Audrey felt car-sick. We arrived at the caves after witnessing more of the desolate sandy Pamiran Valleys, with impenetrable red twisted red metamorphic sandstone cliffs that defined the Pamir Highway from Alichur to Murghab. The world Pamir, describes the large expansive plateau area, (I am assuming) which are formed from glaciers filling and eroding out the valleys. The driver indicated that we had arrived at the cave. He pointed up a really steep slope, and didn't joined us as we scrabbled up (which is quite hard to do at 4200mASL). On the wall of a slight overhang of rock (not really a cave) were several petroglyphs painted with red ochre. We could make out a bear and an ostrich and possibly a Yak. It was fantastic, and the valley was so isolated and desolate. No person was around for miles, and nothing grew except a few dried out shrubs, waiting for the summer sunshine. After the cave, we were whisked further down the valley in hopes to see some rare Marco Polo Sheep, which were in the area. Unfortunately we didn't spot any, but the driver did take us to a meteorite crater which was a large hole in the sandy ground, about 15m across. There was no meteorite at the base, so I enquired with the driver if it was in a museum, but he didn't know. Some of the locals were cynical that the hole was formed by a meteorite and suggested it was a sink-hole instead! Then it was time to go back to Murghab via more extreme driving.... It was not for the faint hearted. The following morning we departed from Murghab and continued north to a huge lake (Karakul) which was apparently (this time) formed from a meteor crater. The lake was blue and huge, but the weather that day was freezing and windy. We spent the night on the north-west side of the lake, some distance from the road, watching the snow capped mountains ahead of us disappear in a white fog, which inevitably turned out to be snow. It was the highest altitude we had slept (4100mASL) and we froze! On Friday 30th May we would cross the Tajik border into Kyrgyzstan. That morning however, we spotted a man in a yellow coat walking along the most horrendous bumpy road ahead of us, on route to the border. He put his arm out to hitch hike. We stopped to give him a lift. He told us that his wife was ahead on her bike looking for their tent which had blown away in the wind... The valley was massive, and we spent all morning helping them to find their tent. I sat with Gulnara for a little while, while Ed and Dimitri continued to look. She was a lovely lady. A Tartar from Russia, who was joining her husband on part of his round the world trip, cycling from Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan) to Dushanbe. Sadly the tent (which was bright yellow) was never recovered and we wished Dimitri and Gulnara good luck on their trip. They didn't have too far to get to Karakul (a small village with homestays) and possibly in Murghab or Khorog they could buy a new tent. So on we went to the border, and this time, it was a relatively easy and quick crossing, except the Tajik border guards wanted Ed to pay them some money (apparently for not having a receipt for the vehicle being brought into the country). This was rubbish however, as Ed did have the receipt.... they were just being dodgy and corrupt, but Ed held steadfast and refused to give them anything. Finally they gave up and we passed into about 20km of no-mans land between the Tajik and Kygyz borders. And for one of the first times on the trip, the landscape changed as soon as we crossed the Tajik border, from desolate high altitude desert to red and green striped mountains covered in fresh grass. Grass! we hadn't seen grass for nigh on two weeks! It was actually a relief to descend into the warm green valleys of Kyrgyzstan. The Kygyz border guards were very friendly, and a little girl called Irana (the daughter of one of the Customs Officers) made it equally lovely. She was 7yrs old and taught me a couple of Kyrgyz words while Ed sorted the 'official' stuff out. I gave her a one pound coin that I had in my pocket and she seemed pleased with her little treasure. On the down-side, the border guard told us that there was a problem on the road we were taking..... the only road north through Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan. That night we parked up in a beautiful red sandstone gorge which was lush with green shrubs, grass and butterflies. The following morning we arrived at the village of Sopu-Korgan to find yet another political road blockade. The 'only' road we could drive on was filled with yurts, cars and people. We couldn't believe it! It had happened to us again! We got the binoculars out and tried to get a closer look..... We were put off from walking into the mingling crowd, but Ed asked a passing local and he said the blockade would stay for 3 days. 'sigh'. We decided to turn around and explore another route west of Sary-Tash, a village we had already driven through the previous day. On the descent back to Sary-Tash the truck began coughing and spitting out white smoke..... Ed pushed it further down the hill to Sary-Tash and then we broke down..... Ed was anxious. It looked serious and possibly a damaged injector pump. I made tea while the tool kit came out, and to add insult to injury, the temperature dropped dramatically and it started to snow. We both had to contemplate the end of the trip, because Ed went through all the vehicle checks and assumed the worst.... Potentially we would have to abandon the vehicle and get a taxi to Osh to find a garage, or worse, to fly home. The concept was upsetting and we sat in mournful silence for a little while drinking tea. Ed had two final checks to complete, which comprised draining all the fuel from the injector pump, filter and sedimenter, and re-filling with fresh diesel. About ten minutes later, Ed opened the back door of the truck and seemed more encouraged. The truck was still running terribly, but it worked, so we decided to return the way we came, complete with a white smokescreen ejecting from the exhaust. After about 10 minutes of thrashing, the smoke cleared. We both breathed a huge sigh of relief as the problem seemed to have righted itself. Bad diesel (with water and dirt) was likely to blame from the dodgy diesel sellers of Uzbekistan. Pesky as they are.... The old man at the Sary-Tash check-point confirmed to us, that there was no other road to Osh. We had to return to Sopu-Korgan and sit out the blockade..... We decided on a very nice camp spot alongside the River Gulcha some 15km south of the road block and the following morning (1st June), I caught up on some washing and worked on the truck (draining the fuel tank, repairing a fuel leak and changing the gear oil and hub oil). All the while, we wondered if the German couple, Dagmar and Klaus had made it through the blockade, as we knew they had crossed the border on 29th May. Suddenly our musings were answered. We looked up from our washing and (Ed) diesel covered clothes, and zee Germans were walking towards us! They hadn't made it through either, but had spent a couple of days exploring the area around Peak Lenin. We caught up on each other's news and then decided to give the blockade another go. Together; like Khorog again! We quickly packed up the truck and once more, the Land Rover and our (now healthier truck) were in convoy again, making a beeline towards the protesters! Once we got there, Ed, myself and Klaus hopped out. In the rain, there were less people mingling about than the previous day and the atmosphere seemed more settled (i.e. less drunkenness). All three of us walked into the blockade to find out if we could cross, leaving Dagmar with the vehicles. A man with one leg, approached us and led us along a path beside the blockade, which skirted alongside the River Gulcha, which appeared to be a passable off-road option for avoiding the road block. Annoyingly however, the locals had a low-lying white electricity cable running above our potential escape route, and the truck would never fit under it. Soon we were surrounded by protesters wondering what we were up too.... One of their henchmen dramatically approached us and crossed his arms in the shape of an 'X' indicating that we could not pass through.... In the rain, I decided to return to the vehicles and Dagmar, leaving Ed and Klaus to negotiate further. They stood there in the rain (trying to look as bedraggled as possible) and finally the wife of the protest 'leader' came over to them and explained the situation (in perfect English). Apparently their local government candidate had been arrested and imprisoned, and so unable to partake in a forthcoming election campaign. She explained that the blockade would last one week, and she wanted to know if we would publicise their campaign. We were tourists however, and could not get involved. The husband (protest leader) then told Ed and Klaus to return in one hour, and we would be allowed to pass through the blockade (via the off-road path alongside the river).... We ate lunch and an hour passed us by. Klaus took the lead in the Land Rover in-case we blocked up the route with the truck, and soon we were in the middle of the blockade. The Land Rover made it down onto the river bank with ease. The truck however, slowly squeezed through a gap between the Yurts in the road and other HGV's. Just as it looked like we were going to make it, the fierce henchman (who had made an 'X' gesture to us), stood in the middle of the road, blocking our way, punching his fists together at Ed, giving him the most intimidating evil stare.... He did not want us to pass through. This was contrary to what the protest leader wanted, and we were beckoned forward by many other friendly protestors, who calmly ignored the scary man who didn't want us to pass through. Seizing the chance, Ed edged forward, ignoring the man waving his fists about, and Klaus appeared, jumping on the roof to lift the white cable above the height of the truck box. Soon we were cab window facing the mud, sliding down a steep muddy slope to the river. It was touch and go, but by some miracle the truck made it and stayed up-right! Dagmar took photos the entire time, and we celebrated quickly alongside the River bank, before driving off as quickly as possible. Staying in convoy we found a lovely camp spot by the river some 35km north of the blockade. In the river valley there were several men loading up a blue truck with the river gravels, and after we parked up, they came over to say hello and watch Ed and Klaus straightening up the winch cable on the truck. They helped with the cable, and then disappeared. Twenty minutes later, they returned with vodka and a local mildly alcoholic fermented milk drink. The remainder of evening was spent getting wasted on vodka, singing and trying to communicate. Payment for the vodka comprised Ed and Klaus helping to load up the truck with gravels (5 to 6 tonne) with shovels. It was hilarious. We have a video... to follow. The next day we made it to Osh (I was ill). We couldn't believe we had successfully passed through two road blocks with Dagmar and Klaus and the four of us celebrated with lunch in the truck cooked by Dagmar. We also shared some of our photos of the trip so far. They are an amazing couple, and we couldn't have done it without them. They are the perfect balance of good humour and courage in the face of an overlanding drama. When we said goodbye, jokingly we all hoped that we would not meet at another blockade again, but next time near the Black Forest, (on our route home), where Dagmar had invited us to their home for some 'real' Schwartzvolderkirschetorte. And now, we are in Osh. Its warm, there are no road blocks, we have just frequented the Bazaar and re-stocked our fridge and we couldn't be happier. If anyone has Skype, we now have internet access for the next 7 days (signal permitting), so if you want to see our bedraggled smiley faces, then give us a Skype! Apologies for this verbose blog and spelling mistakes, because I can't be bothered this time to read through and check. Much love to all at home. Roslyn & Ed. |
AuthorRos: Both Ed and I will be updating the diary blog as much as possible! WTS. Archives
September 2014
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