Gael warning on the Pamir Highway

We are staying in the Karon Palace,as Richardbd pointed out the finest in town and with possibly the densest receptionist!

We discuss when breakfast is available as Gary fancies a sleep in and I am trying to go with the flow. We discuss 8-10 for breakfast and Gary wants 10. He then heads off to bed as he is knackered.

As befits such a fine hotel we have a copy of the thoughts of the ‘democratically elected leader’ by our beds:


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Rather than read his scintillating thoughts I browse iOverlander and other sites and learn there are major roadworks which close the Pamir Highway for hours (8-11 and 1-6pm each day).

So I message Gary suggesting an earlier start so we can get through in the 11-1 window. However he doesn’t read my message.

When I get up for breakfast I discover we are the only guests and the reception has decided Gary’s10 am breakfast is for both of us.

I swiftly disabuse him if this and ask for breakfast now (0815).

Eventually we are ready for the road and score an interesting refill
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We bump into Frenchman Jean Paul who is hitched hiking around the Stans

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We top up on grub for the trip
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However after a pleasant tea break at 11.30 our progress is soon halted at 1:15…..seems we just missed the window for these roadworks and must wait until 6 pm.

We walk forward convinced there must be a way forward- until we see a massive pile of rocks with more threatening to rain on our heads:
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So we have a 4+ hour wait which we pass agreeably chatting to the roadworks manager, a guy from Dushanbe. There’s no mobile signal here but Gary catches up on little personal admin.
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Eventually at 4.45 the bulldozer starts to clear the rubble and by 5.45 we edge our way through - we have 2+ hours of light left and are keen to have a bed tonight.

Then another obstacle strikes: we round a corner TJ see a long line of trucks all blocked by a massive landslide. It’s 6 pm now and this looks a big job!
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We use the time to chat with locals- this guy did an MBA in the US and is very switched on including representation of JCB so we discuss the intricacies of the Chinese excavator clearing the road and the JCB!
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As the light dwindles the work is almost done so we edge up to the excavator (to the anger of the work’s director) and I manage to squeeze by on the rocks and get free. It’s a good thing we did as the road the other end is blocked on both lanes by cars and trucks and we have to filter in between them . Who knows what chaos ensures when both ends if Trafford to get through a narrow and rocky single lane with a precipice to the side.

Just as dark fell we spotted a shop by the road with soldiers exiting so I asked about lodging and they said ‘this is the place’.

Happy days - basic but what we needed.
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We dined in style on a tin of tuna and a tin of peas from the shop (also owned by this guy) below


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I did a little chatting to some passing soldiers who assured me e road ahead was free of roadworks so I messaged Gary to suggest an 8 am departure (if he felt up to it).

He didn’t read it and instead I was rudely awakened at 5.30 am by an awake Gary (a first on this trip!).

He was keen to ride and I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity so we started off very early with a chance to enjoy the spring flowers
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The views got better and better (Afghanistan on the right)
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After an hour or two breakfast became a necessity (although I had kept my yogurt overnight and enjoyed it for breakfast earlier.

I spotted a small sign and we found a gleaming cafeteria with an immaculate guest house above it run by this lovely lady
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Then back to riding through more fabulous scenery (yawn)
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On arrival at Khorog we had resolved to head to a hotel far from where Marat and his group were staying, and to fill up with petrol as we entered town. As I filled up I heard a loud greeting and who should pop us but Marat. He greeted us warmly but then asked us why we had gone rogue and etc etc. We defused the situation by saying we would take care of ourselves, even to the extent of getting a van to bring the bikes back to Almaty if they broke down and we couldn’t fix them.

With that we parted in reasonable terms, and went to eat a good lunch by a river side restaurant. The dishes below were followed by large quantities of well seasoned beef…so much we took a doggy box away with us
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We went permit hunting and got permits to enter the vast Tajik National Park and (in a separate adjacent building with its own staff) a permit for the remote Zorkul Park - neither of them places Marat would want us to go so hope we make it out!

We also drop by the Afghan consulate because until recently one could cross the bridge and visit Afghanistan with a visa arranged here. However it was closed and when I phoned the given number all I got was ‘Dushanbe! Dushanbe!’. So we concluded that option was closed although we resolved ed to visit the big market at Ishkashim, held in a no man’s land between h to e two countries
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Our history Josep shared supper and some beers with us (we provided beer and crisps and he provided borscht and conversation. His hat is a traditional Pamiri hat whereas mine is Pashtun
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We then took off for the 100 km to the Saturday market in Ishkashim….or rather, Gary did. Never one for looking in his mirror, he failed to note I had stalled at the gate🥲.

Slather bike had started and run 10 metres but now would not ignite. I did the classic ‘wait 10 minutes then try again’ which those of us who date to the era of carburettors know so well.

Nothing doing so I started to check various things and then realised G had buggered off with both the spare plugs!

What to do? I decided to swallow my pride and call Marat’s mechanics in the hope they had not yet left town which they were to do.

By chance I caught them and they went through the usual:

Fuel flow - yes
Spark - yes
Filter - ok

They ended up taking the bike apart and examining choke and carburettor, cleaned the air filter with petrol from the tank and re-oiled it.

Finally they got the bike running and headed off. Meanwhile Gary had been spamming me with messages from down the road. Once he knew the mechanics were coming he was in his way and it felt to me the Ten Commandments (at least the ‘we stick together’ one) were well and truly broken.

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My back up plan was a mechanic friend of my just Josep but seeing the time it took two seasoned dr650 mechanics, I am not sure how that would have turned out.

Anyway I jumped on the bike and, stopping briefly for fuel, set up to cover the 100 kms to the Afghan market.

Here G and I met up with Marat’s group at the market - market scenes below, quite an experience:
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On the ride down to Ishkashim I noticed the bike was running rich again so arranged that the two mechanics would take another look at it at Bibi-Fatima springs that evening. (The plug has been sooty as hell when they fixed it this morning).

So with that arranged it was time to stop for a dish of Plov and a Fanta in a roadside cafe.

Then on to Yamchun Fort and the Springs where we looked forward to a good soaking (for the princely sum of $2).
 
The market looks fascinating, I'd love a wander round. All hardware and clothing, no livestock?

Very different smells and noises between the two!
 
On the ride down to Ishkashim I noticed the bike was running rich again so arranged that the two mechanics would take another look at it at Bibi-Fatima springs that evening. (The plug has been sooty as hell when they fixed it this morning).

So with that arranged it was time to stop for a dish of Plov and a Fanta in a roadside cafe.

Then on to Yamchun Fort and the Springs where we looked forward to a good soaking (for the princely sum of $2).
How were those views from the fortress?
 
No updates as very limited internet but (amazingly, perhaps), Gary and I still travelling as a unit).

Did I say the views were spectacular?
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But to go back a bit:
Gary was very keen to head off to Zorkul National Park, a remote park on the China/Afghan border (with Pakistan just over the hill).

I was anxious and not keen to, given 1. my bike had been running rich and needed to be proved
2. There was nothing on sources like iOverlander about the park of anywhere to stay (and we had no camp gear).

Gary was clearly resolute to go anyway, alone if needs be- and asked me to give him my tyre spoons as I would be on a bigger road so help more available. It got ugly when I reminded him that I had told him in Almaty to accept the tyre levers Marat was offering, in case we went separate ways. G denied this but I stuck to my guns and eventually we agreed to ride together to the turn off at Alisher where, some 100 kms later, this fabulous park would be.

By the time we got to the turn off, and conducted enquiries of where we would find any benzine in a potential 350 kms circuit (Nyet!) it became clear that
1. My bike was now running well after the carb rebuild
2. Gary’s desired escapade was logistically not feasible

The day was getting on (due the usual dilatory start) so we agreed amicably to ride on the Murgsb and replan there.

Not many filling stations in sight

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But passing motorists are often a good source of (overpriced) benzine
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I forgot to mention that Marat’s mechanics working together spent a couple of hours rebuilding the carb and getting it running right so it was good our paths had crossed- way beyond my skill levels!
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We passed this Ural rig, which was emitting a curious bleating which (if you look carefully) is a goat
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We had a rest day in the wind swept town of Murgab at around 3300 metres. Very desolate but good to have a day of doing nothing. During that day we hatched a (Gary-led) plan to get to Zorkul by going due East from Murgab. He has learned there is a hunting lodge where we could stay.

I am reasonably relaxed as we have bought some plastic containers and will be carrying close to 20 litres on top of our big Acerbis tanks. We agree we will review the situation when we get to the lodge.

Here is the area we are headed
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The road rapidly becomes decrepit and we are bouncing all around the place. We stop for tea at the first village, called Toktomush but the first person says ‘no tea in Toktomush!’. However his companion tells us to follow him through the houses. A delightful family visit ensues:

Wooden plough seen on the way
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Lovely family who gave us tea and lunch. They refused payment but finally I managed to slip them some money
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After our tea which morphed into lunch, we set off again along the rough gravel road East, taking the opportunity to top up our benzene from a little hut in Shymat village.

Then about 3 on we were approaching the area where we thought there might be a hunting lodge when our path was blocked by an army checkpoint and barracks.

There we were told that civilians were not allowed here and in any case they had just started a 30 day military exercise so we must turn around.

We had a long discussion (or rather Gary did as he is hard to put off once he has a goal in mind!) with the local commander and area commander, neither of whom would budge.

So about turn we eventually did. They told us we could but stay in the village we had passed through but as we were tired we decided to do so anyway and asked there for lodging.

A kindly villager (who turned out to be a chemistry teacher, with 5 children and 5 yaks and 1 cow) ushered us into his home. He would not discuss payment (but when we left the next day we did manage to slip him a generous amount ).

We were lavishly fed and given a big room with a stove, fuelled by yak patties which were drying in the yard.

A few pictures of a memorable stay include his old Ural
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Our host brushed off our bags before bringing them in to his house
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This was just the precursor to a big dinner
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The welcome stove

Family snap
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As it was a beautiful evening I walked through the village (really a cluster of huts/houses on a plain) and then, returning, walked and talked with this 61 year old goatherd as he walked his charges home. (My Pashtun headgear caused him and others great entertainment).
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The local policeman dropped by to check out documents and we were admonished not to take any photos. But who could resist this fabulous scenery?

Our lodging
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View from front gate
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Yak patties in production
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Beauty all around us
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What are the yak patties used for?

Like the Ural spares in the garden ,


Thats a fetching coat of paint you wouldn't miss that in a car park ;)
 


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