After spending a beautiful day at Iskanderkul, Middy, Jessica, and I hopped in our driver's old Mercedes and headed towards Dushanbe via "the pass," as opposed to the new tunnel. The significance of this distinction is that the pass affords amazing views of the mountains, while the tunnel is faster, but apparently scary, as there are sections that are flooded with water. I was happy the tunnel was closed that day. The views from the pass were amazing.
After a long day of driving, we reached the capital of this little country. Dushanbe is a tiny town, with little to report.
We had a nice dip in the dirty little lake to the north of town, somewhat eery as it was otherwise empty despite numerous abandoned day-beds and swimming/bathing facilities. In addition to just chilling out at Middy and Andrew's house, we made several visits to the local market, where we picked up provisions for our upcoming hiking trip.
It was a blast watching Middy rock his Tajik and swagger around the vast marketplace chatting up his friends and haggling over a handful of apricots here and almonds there.
We left burdened with about six 20 lb. shopping bags, enough to feed us all for a couple weeks. The real key to our getting out of Dushanbe and into the mountains, however, was processing our paperwork. We had to register with the authorities as aliens, and we needed permits to enter the Pamir region, where we intended to go hiking. Once we had registered and obtained our permits, we were free to go.
We loaded up a car with Middy and Andrew's boats and headed off at about 5am.
It was another long day of driving. We bumped and bounced over terrible roads for 14 hours, and were happy to see the Pamir Lodge looming ahead of us when we arrived in Khorog. Having sat in the front for the entire ride, watching the earth fall away from me to the right as our driver skidded around hairpin turns up and down mountainsides for hours, I was happy to be alive. As focused as he was, our driver failed to inspire much confidence in me in light of the several carcasses of rusted-out vehicles I saw lying in the raging river hundreds of feet below us.
The Pamir Lodge was a gem in the mountains. A successful Pakistani doctor built himself a beautiful home (in the middle of NOWHERE) in the Pamirs, and decided to add on a little lodge with five small rooms and a prayer room for the caretakers.
The best part? Each room was only $5 a night, and included morning and evening tea and sweets. At this point in our trip, any comfortable, indoor bed is a big deal.
After a great night at the Pamir Lodge, we headed off into the mountains. It was another long day in the car, but the difference was, this ride was steeply uphill. The elevation climb was noticeable. Our ears were popping and heads started to feel funny. Along the way, we had a fun moment when we stopped for another passenger and a couple of the Tajiks in the car got out to race against the schoolkids in the street. A little later, we stopped again for tea along the way.
Apparently this is an integral part of the typical shared cab ride.
Finally, after a few hours in the van when we were in the middle of a long dusty valley with no side roads, Middy tapped the driver on the shoulder and said, presumably, in Tajik, that we were there. A small sign on the side of the road said something about a UN water project, and a dirt road ran off to the left. We parted ways with the other passengers and headed off.
As was typical in this tiny country, Middy realized that he had taught one of the passenger's daughters in a language program. Of course, the man told Middy that meant he had to come visit the man as a guest.
We headed off up the dirt road. 3 hours later, we were out of the valley and approaching an alpine lake as the sun set. We set up camp in the foundation of an old building to provide a little shelter from the cold wind.
Middy cooked up the most delicious instant noodles I've ever had, and we snuggled up for the night. The next morning we were roused by a herd of cows eating the grass right around our little palace.
That day we spent trekking farther into the mountains, not gaining much elevation, but progressing well into the mountains, in search of a couple hot springs and some archaeological ruins marked on our map.
After a little wandering around, we managed to spot a yurt sitting out in the middle of nowhere, about a mile off. Andrew and I walked over to it while Jessica and Middy relaxed. 20 minutes later, we were chatting with a cute little Kyrgyz woman and her two adorable sons, one of whom was wearing a snoopy sweatshirt, which was so perfectly out of place in the mountains. The nice woman directed to the nearest hot spring and we were off.
The hot spring was more like a luke warm spring in a cinderblock hut, but still welcome considering the absolutely freezing stream we had to ford to get there. The sulfuric smell gave it character, and the dead frogs floating around in the water made it a little more exciting. After bathing for as long as we could stand it, we went to find the Caravan Sari, or ancient roadside inn along the Silk Road. The Caravan Sari, a mud-covered stone hut, was still relatively intact.
It was easy to imagine travellers sitting down on day-beds and enjoying tea just like we still do today.
Alongside the Caravan Sari, we found an ancient burial ground.
Each tomb was a shallow trench covered by flat stones and surrounded by a low mud-covered stone wall. Jessica took the opportunity to poke her head in with a flashlight and see what she could find, Indiana Jones-style. Middy, Andrew, and I had altitude headaches and decided we would try to conserve energy as much as possible.
The next night we spent sleeping next to a huge alpine lake.
The wind was strong enough to make it pretty cool in the afternoon, but it died down that evening, and Middy and Andrew's expert tarp engineering kept us cozier than we would have been otherwise, although with subzero temperatures, it was still pretty cold in our borrowed sleeping bags.
A couple days later, we were on our way back to Dushanbe, but the adventure was just beginning.
We spent another night at the Pamir Lodge and woke up early to get in line at the local airport (they don't take reservations). We got out passports in to hold our places in line first thing when they opened. Unfortunately, 15 people with bigger bribes or better connections got in front of us and we missed the first flight. They told us we would definitely make it on the second flight though, so we breathed easy and turned down a ride in a nice UN-owned Toyota Landcruiser. However, after waiting around the airport for a few hours, we found out that "they couldn't find a pilot" to bring the plane back, so we were back to square one.
After haggling with a few drivers in the local marketplace, Middy got us in an SUV heading back to Dushanbe just in time for our flight to Moscow. Of course, "just in time" doesn't exist in Tajikistan, so needless to say we didn't actually make it back in time for our flight.
Granted, we were driving overnight, but the driver certainly took his liberties. He stopped several times to pray, and several times to nap, and before you knew it, we were several hours late. Thankfully, Middy's friend Marydean met us at home and shepherded us onto the next plane for only $8 in change fees.
