The Fann Mountains: Death Notes and Warm coats

By the end of our two weeks in Uzbekistan we felt like we had had our fill. We’d seen plenty of blue things and been incredibly sweaty while seeing them. So, now as the endless mountains of Tajikistan beckoned, we felt ready for a bit more of a challenge. 

The Fann mountains rose from nowhere to mark the beginning of the Sughd province at the border of Tajikistan. Using Panjikent as our base, we prepared ourselves for an adventure in the central Fann mountains, an area that we were told was the most beautiful but least accessible, especially this early in the season. So, with half a day to prepare, we had to prioritise the most important things: 

1. I had to prepare my body and soul for a tash even if I couldn’t prepare the world. As I shaved, I aligned myself with the most accomplished British explorers, feeling that with this upper lip thicket I would be able to peer behind the curtain and be privy to secrets only the most moustached ones know. While there is undoubtedly power in those sub-nasal hairs, moustachemanship does require bravery. It’s tiptoeing the dangerous line between the manly outdoorsman and creepy guy whose cargo shorts go up to his chest as he stands uncomfortably close to children’s playgrounds. (Please feel free to rate the tash in the comments. All reactions from aggressive bouts of nausea to uncontrollable love and adoration are welcome)
2. Also, we got a tent.

Our Ascent into Mordor 

The day started off auspicious enough. We waited for our marshrutka to fill up (super cheap shared minibuses found all over Central Asia) and set off for Artuch. After a cramped journey (11 people shoved onto 6 seats), we arrived at 1pm and the drizzle began. 

From Artuch we headed along the valley, passing small houses by the river and moving steadily uphill along the narrow gravel road. Brendan noted that as we got further and further into the mountains, the more the moustache came into its own. It belonged. We stopped for some lunch after about 7.5km walked and 350m climbed. As we sat there, a banana occupying at least 90% of Brendan’s attention, I realised we had walked just under half way but still had over 900m of elevation to climb. So, we lugged our heavy bags onto our backs, left the gravel road and started our ascent.

We followed zigzagging donkey tracks when we were lucky, narrow runnels of dirty mountain run off when we were unlucky, and scree slopes full of sharp unstable rock with nothing but my rapidly fading hope leading the way for most of the time. Our legs were barely working from the constant upwards exertion, our pins of death felt like actual death and the rain got ever heavier. We knew that the more stops we took the harder it would be, stopping the pistons would not rejuvenate them anymore. There were plenty of moments on these slopes of dark rock, along this seemingly never-ending valley, where we stopped in pain and thought, “maybe we are pretty stupid”. There was a brief satisfaction at the top of each ridge but then you just saw the next looming in the distance. On the last ridge climb (which was the steepest and when we were most tired), I stopped under a lone tree on the vague indentation on the mountain we called a path and waited for Brendan to reach that brief respite from the elements. We exchanged a pained glance and a nod then continued upwards. No words were needed. Once we had reached the top, the rain eased off but continued. I was getting very cold very quickly and we made it to our chosen patch of ground for the night. Time to put up this rental tent for the first time. 

We got that tent up in no time. This was ever more impressive due to the fact that the poles didn’t have any way to connect to the ground sheet and therefore keep themselves curved and upright. Not wanting our tent collapsing on us and without many other options I just shoved all the ends of the poles straight into the soil. Too cold and tired to care, we got in and got warm. 

I Finally Believe Belinda Carlisle   

We awoke early with our tent still intact. This miracle was compounded by the fact I got some sleep despite the severe lack of sleeping mat. Once we made it outside we realised the true beauty that we had toiled to see the day before. We were camping next to the stunning turquoise lake of Kulikalon in a beautiful grassy meadow. Surrounding the lake on every side were towering snow-capped mountains. And the best bit? No mosquitos. 

We decided to get out for a day hike and try to get back before the afternoon rain that we had experienced every day in Tajikistan so far. Dushakha lake was our target and the walk there was very pleasant indeed. Firstly, we walked along the relatively flat boulder-strewn area between the mountains. We picked our way between the boulders and gnarled pine trees which suffused their sweet perfume into the fresh mountain air. Soon, however, we turned and headed steadily uphill towards a large ice wall at the end of the valley, and with every step of added elevation the number of pine trees reduced. Dushakha was at the base of these jagged ice-clad mountains and its blue colour was even more vibrant than Kulikalon. We relaxed among vibrant mountain flowers by the lake for a while, had an awful amount of rock based fun (throwing rocks at other rocks) then began the walk back. 

We detoured around our lake and got back to our tent as the dark clouds began rolling in. We obviously knew not to take the incoming storm lightly but we did think it would be a crying shame if we didn’t go to the beach. It wasn’t quite Kavos but the water was blue and our beach bodies were (no I will not take any contradictory notes on this statement) absolutely flawless. We had a quick dip and a wash, then scurried back into the tent. Almost on cue the hail began. We were in for the long haul. 

Fearful Fann

As I previously mentioned, the state of affairs with our tent was not ideal and once the elements decided to give us a good kicking, our tent related anxiety grew and grew. The torrential rain and hail were our first issue. They made the ill-fitting, vaguely waterproof outer of the tent stick to the inner resulting in minor leaks. If the wind had been stronger I’m certain the tent would’ve been all but useless, but as-it-was the most annoying thing was waking up for a wee one morning to find my walking boot completely full of water. Not ideal. As the elements battered the tent, the thunder and lightning began. The thunder claps were very loud and rumbled on for a long time, echoing around the bowl of mountains we were sat in the middle of. The flashes of lightning highlighted both the fear on each other’s faces but also how helpless we were in the middle of nowhere, not a settlement for miles. So, to calm ourselves we stuck on some tunes and wrote our death notes for when a miscellaneous goat herder found our remains. Here they are:

My Note

Dear reader, 

If you’re reading this I/we are dead (“we” being Brendan). Firstly, you’re a nosey ****, this is a closed tent, get a life you pervert. Secondly, I apologise for whatever song is playing, when you tell the story please say it was “Fancy” by Iggy Azalea ft Charlie XCX, because… well, just because. 

Cheers xx 

Brendan’s Note

Dear reader, 

Hello.

If you are reading this, I/ we (“we” being James, the moustachioed one) are dead. If you have already read James’ note, I want it on record that all of his wishes are also mine. 

Our charred bodies may be broken beyond repair. However, I would still like my lifeless corpse sent back to my family in England. It’s probably best to warn them of this. 

Regarding the funeral, if you happened upon two bodies, James and I would appreciate a joint ceremony. It’s going to be lit. Big tunes, big vibes, big tears. Of course, you are welcome to attend, if you can afford the air ticket. 

Regards, 

Brendan 

***

Writing those made us feel much better and, truth be told, when we didn’t end up dying (spoilers), it was somewhat of a disappointment. 

Other than existential fear, the nights in the Fann mountains also had incredible beauty. Usually by the early evening the horrible weather had passed and the stars had come out. The altitude and the clear mountain air all contributed to some incredible star gazing.

Final Thoughts

This is without a doubt one of the most remote and beautiful places I’ve been to in my life. The serenity in the mountains is akin to Sweden but the mountains themselves are more spectacular. The lush green meadows lacking in biting insects, the sweet smell of the pine trees and the turquoise blue lakes made this a true mountain paradise. 

While the scenery was incredible, so were the people. The people of this area are the kindest and most genuinely friendly I’ve ever met. We were offered sweets by two little boys and every man with his donkey said hello or tried to ask us where we are from. Then, as we finished our descent back to civilisation, we were picked up (within 5 minutes) by some old men in a rusty blue truck who took us to a local bus which was doing the rounds in tiny villages, so we could get back to our hostel.