Wakhan nine to five

After receiving a wealth of feedback on my moustache (from “80s pornstar” to “0/10 – Ringo Starr on a bad day”) we continue our trip through Central Asia. I mean… I’m in Taiwan now, but in a spiritual sense we are together for this.

From the Fann mountains we went through even more jagged Tajik peaks, tackling tunnels left, right and centre. The biggest tunnel by far was the ‘Tunnel of Death’ which unfortunately was as bad as it sounds. It was 5km long, unpaved, unventilated, with no lights and, as was the standard in Tajikistan, no rules of the road. This, the five metre visibility and the tendency of Tajik drivers to be mentally unhinged, all contributed to an unnerving journey under a mountain. After somehow surviving, our shared taxi driver thought a roadside snack might be a nice way to bring our heart rates back to normal. This was also just the tasty respite Brendan needed to distract him from the nagging pain in his knees. We didn’t buy anything but the driver offered us something from a bag of what looked like round white sweet treats. CHEESE. It was bloody cheese. Now, some of you may be thinking, oh lucky you, someone has slipped you a tasty dairy product. No. Imagine the powdered parmesan you can buy in your supermarket of choice. Then add half a kilo of salt, some roughly chopped chalk and 10 fluid ounces of pure bitterness and spite. Then mix well with sweaty unwashed hands and form into balls that could resemble something tasty like a marshmallow. Then serve in a clear plastic bag and laugh maniacally. By the time we got to Dushanbe hours later the cloying salty taste was still there. I still taste it in my nightmares.

Monday

Dushanbe (it means Monday in Tajik) was a worthwhile stopping point despite the lack of things to see or do. We ate good food, drank mediocre beer and most importantly, by pure chance, re-met Drazen and Jeroen who we had previously seen in Samarkand. We knew they also wanted to do the Pamir highway via the Wakhan Valley and thus we began rolling as this ragtag group of problematic bachelors. As we all know, one can’t parade around in such a group without a name, so it quickly came to be that ‘The Pamir Chaps’ would ride out into the mountains together, forging a legacy that would echo through the ages. They would sing songs of Brendan’s smelly feet. Children would read tales of Drazen’s penchant for eating onions like apples. And ladies would swoon over mere whispers of Jeroen’s flowing golden locks. And so with one final farewell (and then ten minutes waiting for Jeroen to get out the shower) we set forth, never once looking back, for there was so much adventure ahead.  

To Khorog

To get to the Wakhan corridor our driver Amari would have to negotiate the road to Khorog which was 13 hours of driving on terrible roads. Despite everyone’s advice to split it into two days, we decided to pretty much completely ignore them. What do they know? 

At first the road was awful, going through the arid rolling hills of southern Tajikistan. Then as we reached the Afghan border, and started to trace our way along it, the road became a track and that track quickly became something that more closely resembled a battlefield. It was raining and the holes in the “road” threatened to break every component of our car leaving us to fend for ourselves in Tajikistan’s interpretation of Mordor. Due to the glaring lack of seat belts and Amari’s apparent desire to be a rally driver, we were holding on for dear life. The only thing that distracted us from what seemed like imminent death (by drowning in the raging Panj river or being catapulted through the windscreen) was Amari’s playlist. He threw us countless Tajik bangers, then out of no where smashed us with the likes of Stefflon Don, then some Russian rap. Amari if you’re reading this, it’s time to start your DJ career, you’ve got real talent. The tunes had to stop for a few hours while Amari fixed our rattled electronics. The situation was bad enough to bring the car to a halt but we made it into the mountain town of Khorog by dusk.

Just Stay Positive 

We awoke to a breakfast fit for kings, or in this case Chaps. The hostel owner had been incredibly friendly and helpful, so as we left her we were happy and excited to finally get into the Wakhan Valley. As we stepped out of the door that morning, her final words to us were simply, “Just stay positive.” Um excuse me, what? What did she know that we didn’t? Had we completely underestimated this trip? Her words were to become a haunting motto for us over the next week in the mountains. 

The Wakhan corridor is a narrow, extremely mountainous area of Afghanistan that extends to the north east of the country. It was originally created as a buffer zone between the Russian Empire in today’s Tajikistan, and the British Empire in today’s Pakistan. We closely followed the Panj river for two days from Khorog which acts as the border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. At points we were no more than 20 feet away from the Afghan side. It felt extremely special to even view life in Afghanistan, a country which has seen non-stop conflict since 1978 and has been linked heavily with terrorism both in the region and across the world. 

But with Afghanistan as our backdrop for two days we saw nothing but the daily lives of the farmers and their families. Young children ran to school or played in the river while older children herded goats. It mirrored our side of the river almost perfectly. 

While the remoteness of these people’s lives was fascinating and being welcomed so genuinely into their villages and homes was an honour, the spectacle of the landscape can not be overlooked. The Fann mountains displayed a green paradise filled with flowers with a backdrop of towering mountains, however the Wakhan was something completely new. The mountains were rugged, jagged and imposing. The valley was expansive in areas allowing for views across the windswept, high-altitude, fluvial landscape but in other areas the valley was narrow with dark rock towering above us on both sides of the churning Panj river.

Among this constantly fascinating terrain we visited ancient fortresses that were established thousands of years ago then restored and expanded in the 10th to 12th centuries. They provided some of the best views of the trip, when we could open our eyes wide enough to see them, due to the sand being whipped up from the river bank below. Wandering around the surprisingly intact walls and having already experienced the changeability of the weather at this altitude, it really reiterated how important this area was for trading on the Silk Road but also how awful it would’ve been to be stationed at one of the fortresses. Even today, driving along the Wakhan Valley, you regularly see groups of military personnel patrolling the border and moving from one freezing outpost to the next.

Note: Don’t trust your driver if he tells you a “greeting” to say to the armed guards at one of the checkpoints. The only other person we met along the way had been told to say a phrase by his mischievous driver which turned out to be the worst swear word in Pamiri (the local language). His driver found it hilarious, Ian (the innocent British guy), didn’t find it so funny when all he got in return was the steely unamused stare of guard accompanied by the glint of his bayonet.

How to Get to Know Your Car Mates 101

Get your genitals out.

No no, not just in the car. That would be a little strange. Wait until you reach Bibi Fatma hot springs and from there it’s only for the unclothed, so drop your tighty whities and jump in.

The hot springs were up an unassuming valley after the treacherous drive on a steep mountainside. The solitary building was wedged between the valley walls and perched above the stream. Once we had de-robed, we descended to a narrow space between the outer wall of the house and the green rock face. The rock was past vertical and closed in on the house as we looked up, giving only a narrow crack of sky to gaze upon as we lowered ourselves into the cauldron. It was very hot, very steamy and there was an awful lot of penis on show but the supposedly medicinal waters were very pleasant to sit in for a while. I particularly enjoyed gazing up at the moss and ferns trembling in the rising steam above. Getting out, we all felt very light-headed but that was nothing that the cool mountain air and some more Tajik bangers didn’t solve. 

Final Thoughts

This optional extra of the Pamir highway is absolutely unmissable. Enough said.