Once Upon A Time In Tajikistan-Part 1
"Never even heard of this country"
June-2017 As we drove up to the border, the first thing I noticed was a giant sheep skull with a full set of protruding horns mounted above the entry gate. They are literally called Marco Polo sheep. “This is as close to the legend himself as I’ll ever feel.”, I thought. The post was manned by soldiers operating out of shipping containers. They wore a modified version of the Red Star on their uniforms. No English, all Cyrillic. Just how I like it. The air was thin in these mountains at around 4000 m and I was still getting acclimated, my shortness of breathe mixed into the confusion of trying to answer the guards questions. Even though it was summer, the elevation here presented enough snow and ice to excite any winter sport enthusiast. Our driver, Ahmed, was already waiting for us on the other side, as we could only pass one at a time. My other travel companion, Marieke, was from the Netherlands, and was waiting for me to go. On the other side, a group of guys from Switzerland were handing over paperwork to their motorcycles. They rode all the way here. Impressive. After a scan of the visa paperwork and passport, we were stamped and let through. As I stepped onto Tajik soil my adrenaline surged. With cheers and celebratory embraces we prepared for the drive forward.
Tajikistan is a country in Central Asia, formerly a part of the Soviet Union and sits in the crosshairs of the ancient Silk Road. Its complex history is that of ever changing faces. Some of the cities in the region were founded by Alexander the Great. Even the genetics of the people look like antiquity. There is a route called the Pamir Highway. It will take you on a thorough tour of this breathtaking land. We started in Osh, and planned on taking a detour along the Wakhan Corridor, where I will stay to volunteer with WorkAway, and Marieke finishing in the capital Dushanbe. Most of the road is gravel, so its convenient to rent a 4x4.
A desolate road lays before us. The path disappears into the distance, covered in a haze by the mountains. No traffic, no honking horns, no rush hour. Just silence. An hour goes by without signs of life. Eventually we come across a broken down vehicle. Our driver decides to wait for another car in case we have to help them. No cell phone signal. Later another car arrives and the locals move their belongings to get back on their way.
There is a village that sits on the shores of Lake Karakul where we will take a break. Perhaps only a few hundred people live here. The buildings are mostly constructed from materials that surround us. No Home Depot in these parts. Its been a couple days since a proper wash, so jumping in the icy waters is my best option. Great way to shake up the body after a long drive. We relax for awhile in a guesthouse where I get to try my first Tajik Naan bread. Circular and spiral in shape, fresh from a clay oven, we also we wash it down with some chai to keep us warm. We take a walk around the town and then get ready to move on.
Our first night will be spent in Rangkul, an even smaller village than Karakul, close to the border with China. It fascinates me how massive that country actually is. Most of us are familiar with eastern China: Shanghai, Beijing, the Great Wall, etc. But here we are looking at the western most frontier, and to me, a land of mystery. A lot of empty space, truly remote. The Pamir Mountain Range is a branch off from the Himalaya, and form a formidable demarcation from one sphere of influence to the next. An entirely different culture, language, and beliefs just on the other side of those summit glaciers. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of these back valleys have never seen human footprints. The land here has a reddish mars/moonscape, and due to elevation almost nothing grows. It takes a hardy person to outlast this indomitable environment.
Another hour goes by when we spot a herd of wild Bactrian camels in the distance. We excitedly go off the road to get a closer look at them. Marveling at their distinct shaped humps with a vast scenic background, I envision the baggage trains of history these animals were used for, and now this group of descendants roam free. When we arrive into the village, we check into the guesthouse and I notice the walls and floor are covered in colorful rugs, mats, and pillows. Before we’ve put our bags down, several children curiously come up to say hello. We laugh together through the language barrier, basking in a rare burst of warm sun. A man pulls up driving the notorious Lada. He is wearing a traditional hat called the Kalpak. It is made from wool, several triangular pieces, and sown to become an elongated cap. Usually white with black designs created on the sides. The symbolism typically represents the mountains and unity of the people. He offers us to go on a camel ride. Well why not we say. If you look up Rangkul on Google Maps, you’ll see the dotted line indicating the border with China. Further down the road there’s a more proper set up. We ride the camels into the valley, and I’d like to think we unofficially added to our country notch count. Back in town, we settled into our colorful rug room and after a hearty meal of ramen noodles and naan, it was time to finally sleep after this first day. Tomorrow, we go to Murghab.
Murghab sits on a plateau nestled between high mountains and a river. With a population of several thousand people, its the only significant center of civilization in this part of the country. There’s even a couple miles of paved road! We go through the first checkpoint. Manned by police and or the army, these encounters will only increase as we get nearer to Afghanistan. Walking through the “downtown” of shipping containers, locals give us curious looks, children follow us down the street, and a few men ask in broken English to take us on a tour(for a price). I don’t see any other tourists. There is even a fast food shawarma van, next to a bank that looks like its been closed for years. Take all the cash you think you’ll need while on the Pamir Highway (I’ll talk more about numbers later in this series).
On our walk back, a big dust bowl was quickly blowing in. Its thick red dust is not lung friendly so we hurry back to wait things out. Marieke and I swap travel stories and try to learn what we can about Ahmed. His English was not very good, but he made his living driving tourists like us around and his translations greatly helped smoothed things over with the police. A really good guy. We had met him at the hostel in Osh, Kyrgyzstan. It is easier and I think cheaper to hire a driver. You can do it on your own of course, but we made a good trio. When the dust settled, I took a stroll solo out of town. I noticed a cemetery up on the hill at the foot of the mountain. I sat up there for awhile to reflect on where I was in the world. The adventure was about to become even more surreal, as I was eager to lay my eyes on the country that’s been constantly reported about by US Media and an integral facet of all American lives for a generation. The Wakhan Corridor however was assumed as being safer and relatively untouched by the war. I guess we’ll see.
The next day we head back out and reluctantly say goodbye to comfortable tarmac. Last on our list before going to the border is Yashikul Lake. It sits high in the mountains, and we were told Yaks like to live up there. Sounds good. On our way we pass by some yurts. Incredible to witness “living” history. A style unchanged for thousands of years. At the lake we stop at another guesthouse where we enjoy local fish. We meet a swiss guy here who is a teacher and lived in Tajikistan for many years. He also drives the famed Lada. The people you encounter on the road. He mentions to us there’s a thermal hot springs with a bath tub just above the lake. Its been almost a week now without a hot wash so we might as well take the opportunity. It was beyond refreshing. The air was clean, and the lakes pale blue water was a nice contrast to the snowy mountain summits. It was so quiet all we could hear was the nearby yaks munching on the desert shrub.
The time had come to head south. At the intersection was the M41 that would take us down the final miles. As we inched closer our hearts began to race. Army check point up ahead. After they recorded our information we drove over the final hill and there it was: The Wakhan Corridor of Afghanistan! We made it. Originally created as a buffer zone between the Russian and British Empires. Its a narrow strip of territory where modern times have yet to take hold. The Pamir River forms the border and the mountain peaks on the other side of the valley form the Hindu Kush in Pakistan. I was blown away by being able to look across three Stan’s at the same time. We go down to the river and of course I have to take a selfie haha. Some parts of the river are so narrow and shallow you could walk across. There are no fences, but the military presence is too numerous to try it. Our trio has a few more days together, where I will be dropped off in the village of Eshkashem to do some volunteering with WorkAway.
Stay tuned for “Once Upon A Time In Tajikistan-Part 2!
-AbroadwithBrian
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This story was INCREDIBLE Brian. Wow. Breathtaking vistas, and I'm happy you took a bunch of photos. I've literally never heard of Tajikistan before. Well, maybe I have, but it sounds like a few other countries I know that I probably just got them jumbled in my mind. It makes me want to go there. BEAUTIFUL mountains, people, food, etc. it seems like. WorkAway seems like an awesome company. I kind of want to sell all my stuff here and just go jet off across the world.