Pamiri Passage

Well, there it is, right across the river.

Afghanistan.

The so-called rogue state is just a stone's throw from us, and we drove along it for the whole day today.

The view from my tent this morning.

And behind me.

We reached Qolaikhum this morning, did a little shopping, and then headed northeast, back onto the main Pamir "Highway," which runs right alongside the Panj River here, the river that separates Tajikistan from Afghanistan.

This smaller river leads to the Panj. See the grey water in the distance?

Stocking up

It feels weird to be so close to what some people regard as one of the most dangerous countries in the world, and one which has featured heavily in the world's media for decades.

And for good reason I guess. Media companies make more money telling bad news than good news, and there's been so much bad news coming out of Afghanistan for decades now that it provides endless clickbait.

There was a heavy military presence on our side of the border all day. Tajik soldiers regularly patrol on foot, machine guns strapped to their backs, walking in the hot sun in groups of three or four. It'd be a really tough job.

There's loads of well-fortified army barracks in many places along the road, and for good reason, as the border region has seen conflict for decades.

Civil War

In 1991, in the first Presidential elections since independence from the Soviet Union, Rahmon Nabiyev of the Communist Party of Tajikistan was voted in, winning about 60% of the vote. Like most Central Asian countries after independence, the first Tajik president was Moscow's man, the same guy who'd ruled the country before independence.

Protesters came onto the streets after the election results were declared, and violence erupted. In response, the new government gave weapons to private militiamen to attack the protestors, and the opposition sought military aid from the mujahideen in Afghanistan.

And so began a civil war which lasted for five years, and resulted in up to 100,000 deaths, and the dislocation of around 1.2 million people.

The pro-Russian side, the old guard, was supported by Russia and Uzbekistan, who both provided finance, weapons amd troops. The opposition side mainly consisted of people from an area called Gharm, and by ethnic Pamiris, as well as members of an Islamist Renaissance Party, which was supported by Afghanistan.

The current Tajik President, Emomali Rahmon, came to power at this time, as he was a pro-Soviet militia leader. Due to overwhelming foreign support his troops initially routed the opposition, and engaged in what Human Rights Watch have called an ethnic cleansing of Pamiris and Garnis. The crimes they committed were horrific, and included the burning of villages, mass killings, and the expulsion of tens of thousands of Garnis and Pamiris into Afghanistan.

Eventually the opposition organised itself into what was called the United Tajik Opposition, and they had some military successes. By 1996 the UTO were fighting Russian troops for control of Dushanbe, the capital.

The UN stepped in, and a peace deal was finally negotiated in 1997, which involved some opposition members being included in government.

But the legacy of war is clearly evident in the country. The economy was completely devastated by the conflict, infrastructure was destroyed, and many regions are yet to recover.

Politically, the Tajik President has been one of the most critical opponents of Islam in Central Asia, and has introduced many decrees to restrict Islamic religious practices in Tajikistan, including the banning of beards (except for old men), the banning of the call to prayer from the mosques, and the requirement for all mosques and clerics to register with the government. The Tajik government has also been the fiercest critic in the whole region of the return of the Taliban in Afghanistan, and, as a result, tensions between the two countries remain.

Hence the troops everywhere down here.

Afghani Calm

As we drove along the border, some of the villages on the Afghan side looked absolutely idyllic.

But of course, there's much more to a place than the first impression. Who knows what life is like for women in these small villages, and how much influence the Taliban actually has in these remote communities. It's over 600km from here to Kabul, the Afghani capital.

While the media focuses on the Taliban's unapologetic misogyny and gender apartheid, other aspects of their return to power have actually been positive in the country, believe it or not. Safety and security has been massively improved, and as a result local economies have grown considerably.

But of course, there's been a huge cost to women. Afghanistan is the only country in the world where secondary and higher education is now specifically banned for girls. Of course, education for girls is problematic and very low in many countries around the world, but nowhere else is it illegal.

Since the Taliban returned to power in 2021, they've issued more than 80 edicts restricting the lives of women and girls. Women are banned from nearly all forms of paid employment, from accessing the justice system, or even for walking in public parks.

Women must remain completely covered at all times outside the house, and their voices must not be heard in public. Really. Women can be stoned, but unfortunately not the good stoned. They can officially actually be stoned to death for crimes such as adultery.

What planet are these men on? Ours?

Unfortunately Lisa wasn't well today, she woke with a fever and was feeling crap. We left our campsite late, and she chilled in the back for most of the day, with clear instructions from us men leaders not to go out in public or speak to anyone, or she might get stoned later on.

For a large chunk of the day the road was basically a huge dusty dodgy construction site. They're upgrading the road around here, and so for much of the day we were driving through a rocky, potholey sandy mess, and the going was super slow.

The views were spectacular though, as they've been for the whole trip so far.

Sometimes we passed through really dangerous sections, one-lane tracks with flimsy sandy rocky cliff edges towering above the river far below. One fast truck coming the other way, coupled with a momentary loss of concentration, and you're basically history.

Really.

It's a long way down.

This is one of the most precarious roads I've ever had the heart-pumping (mis)fortune to travel on, and sparked vivid memories of hitching to Ladakh from Manali in India decades ago. That Manali-Leh road is now a two lane paved highway, unlike this one.

King Gizzard and the Blizzard Wizard

I wanna tell ya a bit about that journey.

Israeli Yoav and I met in Vashisht, a small town near Manali, in the foothills of the Himalaya, in the Indian province of Himachal Pradesh. It was the mid 1990s. Yoav had just finished his army service in Israel, had been involved in combat operations in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank (history repeats), and was still in recovery mode, getting into yoga and meditation in India to try to extract himself from the psychological trauma that had tortured him ever since.

We decided to try our luck by hitching all the way to Leh, in Ladakh, a large town which sits on a plateau way up in the Himalayas, at over 3,600m, and which, in those days, had a completely traditional culture and way of life.

Me in Varanasi, around that time, during a Booodhist phase

Trippy pants on my hippies.

Although it was only about 450kms to Leh, it was a long trip, because the roads were so incredibly bad.

We headed off from Manali, got a couple of lifts, and immediately climbed way up over the Rohtang Pass, on a skinny and very dodgy road. We eventually made our way to the larger town of Keylong, which hosts a large community of Tibetan Buddhists.

We knew that the Tibetan monasteries (gompas) in the area would host travellers, so we climbed way way up the side of a steep valley to a random gompa, where the beautiful monks invited us in and offered us tea.

Pretty soon an old monk invited us to stay in his tiny room with him. He cooked for us, made us tea, and talked with us (as best he could) about the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. It was so precious, and we stayed with him for an extra day.

At night the monk would make a point of not preparing his breakfast fire, because he said that we never know when we will die, and that if he woke in the morning it was a blessing, and was just as nature had intended.

Yep, we never know when we'll die. Every day is a blessing, just as nature intended.

Eventually Yoav and I headed further up into the mountains. We travelled for a couple of days, and one late afternoon, as we were walking up a steep mountain road, we noticed that there was no traffic passing us at all.

We didn't know what was going on, and felt a little unsure as to what to do, as we were already high in altitude, and, as the sun passed into the shade of the tall mountains, we began to get super cold.

Up ahead in the distance, we saw a shimmering light.

And it wasn't the Hotel California.

It was an old brightly painted Indian truck with the front bonnet up, and two local drivers engaged in some complicated bush mechanics. They told us that the road was closed, as there'd been a blizzard up ahead, and no one could get through.

But they invited us to join them, and when their motor was repaired, we squeezed in their cabin, and chugged up the mountain in the chill and the fading light.

It wasn't long before an Indian army jeep stopped us, and the driver told us the road was blocked ahead. He then invited us, well, sort of ordered us, to stay in the Indian army barracks nearby. He accompanied us up the hill.

It was snowing heavily by the time we arrived.

The truck drivers slept rugged up in the cabin of their freezing vehicle. Lucky them. Not. We were given a small tin shed with two tiny beds in it. It was also freezing, but at least we had our sleeping bags.

We were stuck there for 4 days.

Every late morning an army guy would kindly bring us a bucket half full with lukewarm water, for washing. Twice a day they would bring us a plate of rice each, swimming in a spoonful of very thin runny dahl.

It was physically tough. It was freezing, and we were hungry most of the time.

And for Yoav it was also psychologically tough, because being in an army barracks triggered his combat trauma, and he went through a living hell in that little tin shed.

We talked a lot, and played cards for much of the time. The shed was too small to really exercise in, and it was snowing almost the whole time, so we hardly went outside.

Eventually the snow stopped, and after another day or so we could leave. We joined a small convoy of army vehicles that headed up to clear the road ahead, knowing there'd be rock falls and snow and landslides that had been triggered by the storms.

Our truckie friends joined us, and eventually a small minibus also tagged along, as the road was now open from below, although still blocked ahead. The minibus was carrying, of all things, about a dozen middle aged Belgian tourists, on the second day of an organised tour of India.

Every few metres up the road there'd be rocks, or gravel, or snow/ice, that we'd need to clear, and after each section was cleared the army guys would jump in their trucks and Yoav and I would just jump on whatever vehicle was next to us, either an army vehicle, the truck, or the little minibus.

Eventually we got to a spot where there'd been a landslide, and so we cleared much of it to make the road passable, but it needed to be driven at a slow pace, because there was still a lot of scree on the side of the precariously dangerous road, and the scree was at a quite sharp angle in places.

And then it happened.

The obviously inexperienced local Indian driver of the tourist minibus, who looked about 16, drove over the landslide way too quickly. The minibus couldn't handle the angle of the slope, and began to tip towards the cliff edge. Everyone inside screamed.

The bus couldn't right itself, and continued to fall, and then slammed onto its side, and slid along the road sideways towards the cliff edge.

But, for the grace of Shiva, it didn't slide right off the edge, but stopped on the precipice, the back edge of it perched precariously over the cliff.

If it had gone over everyone onboard would have died. No question. The cliff was steep, and it was hundreds of metres down to the river below. It would've been total carnage.

Nevertheless, it was still incredibly intense. Most of the windows had smashed, and the people inside had smashed as well, being slammed out of their seats onto hard metal or onto each other, as the bus crashed onto the rocky road and slid sideways.

The army guys carefully helped the passengers and young driver climb and crawl out. Some were crying, some silent, but pretty much all of them were injured in some way or other.

It was horrific.

The army guys eventually pushed the minibus back onto its damaged wheels, and transported its passengers back down the hill. Their India tour, which had just commenced, was over.

Yoav and I carried on clearing the road, and eventually got a lift over the pass, and finally made our way to Leh.

But the road was absolutely precarious for almost all of the way - a one lane dirt track skirting along hugely steep cliff edges, where, if you encountered another vehicle, you had to reverse blind around a sharp corner, praying profusely that another vehicle wouldn't ram you from behind and push you to your death.

It was so scary.

It reminds me of the Pamir Highway.

Dodgy Roadworks

Back on the road along the Afghan border, Beni Lisa and I eventually got to a spot where the road was blocked for construction. We'd heard that that may happen. We needed to wait for four whole hours at this spot. I sat in a chair outside and slept for two of them.

It was actually fine, because Lisa also got to sleep and try and recover from her sickness, without being tossed around like a yoyo in the back.

By the time we got going again it was 6pm and getting dark. By that time there were loads of cars and trucks chomping at the bit to get through, and they all wanted to be first.

It was really nuts. The dust was so intense that visibility was almost completely nonexistent, and Beni had a huge task trying to concentrate on driving in the fading light, on a completely dodgy road, with Lisa sick in the back, desperately wanting to stop somewhere. But there was nowhere to stop.

There were a few road blockages as well, as the road was basically only wide enough for one vehicle for long stretches, so lines of traffic would bank up waiting for vehicles to pass the opposite way. Or sometimes vehicles would play chicken as they headed towards each other, speeding up to get through first.

Dodgy as.

Beni's an animal whisperer

The dusty mess. The road was so bumpy that a lot of my pics were blurry, sorry.

Eventually we headed towards a roadside campsite we'd found on iOverlander, but it didn't exist anymore, it'd been swallowed up by the roadworks. Then we stopped at a random little family home, and the beautiful mum said we could stay in their orchard. Lisa went to bed, and Beni and I went inside to chat with the family - the mum and her five kids.

Of course they plied us with tea, non (bread), dried apricots, dried white mulberries, more tea, and thick fresh lavash, another type of bread. We stayed chatting for awhile, they were so lovely.

The mum's bringing up her kids all on her own, her husband's working in Moscow, and she was the most curious, chatty and friendly person ever.

You're probably tired of hearing it, but the hospitality here is just so amazing.

When we went to go to sleep in the van however, we were shocked to see a bunch of men around it.

It was the military. They'd gone to the van a little while earlier while Lisa was asleep in there on her own and banged on it to see if anyone was inside. Of course they'd scared the living goatshit out of Lisa, considering it was pitch black and she was alone inside, and parked in a very sensitive military zone.

When we approached the van they told us very clearly we couldn't stay there, as the van was visible from across the border in Afghanistan, and so a potential target.

While we understood they were just doing their job, all we really wanted to do was trest,  and we didn't care where we were by that stage.

But we had no option, and were forced to continue in the dark.

A little further up the road we were stopped at another military checkpoint, and they told us we needed to stay at a spot nearby. We basically parked up in another family home, but well hidden amongst the trees.

Of course our hosts were beautifully welcoming as well, despite the late hour.

Beni and I stayed up chatting in the starlight, while Lisa, in her feverish sickness, could finally crash.

Into The Bartang

Every day is an adventure. Wherever you are. But around here it seems the adventures are so beautifully unpredictable.

I woke to a guard dog lying right next to my tent opening, protecting me.

Even the dogs around here look after you.

When we emerged from our beds, all the kids from the farmhouse turned up, and basically did what their parents do - plied us with delicious homegrown apples, strawberries, berries and tomatoes, which they all went off to pick and then generously offered.

It's a beautiful thing.

This place is a little paradise, despite the military presence. Green fields, loads of fruit trees, animals, and a super laid back culture. It makes these little settlements appear so idyllic.

We headed off, but were still inside the road construction zone, so had to wait here and there whilst blockages were cleared. Luckily, unlike yesterday, we didn't need to wait too long.

At times we could see that the road along the river on the Afghan side of the river was incredibly precarious. In one area the road there had been blocked by landslides, and small machines were chipping into the cliff face to try to cut a new road right through the completely overhanging rock.

It's incredibly dangerous work, as the cliffs can collapse at any moment, and it's hard to imagine that the engineering or geological skills the local village roadbuilders have would be suitable for this type of work.

At one point a group of Afghan workers across the river frantically motioned for us to drive fast and get the hell out of there, and then suddenly there was a huge explosion, and part of the cliff came down on the Afghan side. They were blasting, and the vibrations can lead to landslides or flying rocks on our side of the river as well.

Trippy.

We eventually made it to the little town of Rushon, and had a little supply shop. Some of the kids came and chatted with us, to practice their English. They were so sweet, asking the usual questions.

Not far out of town we turned off the main road, and headed into the Bartang Valley, a beautiful valley that heads east, and eventually rejoins the Pamir Highway at Murghab, as the road heads north towards Kyrgyzstan.

But we knew we couldn't take the road all the way to there, as it's too rough and dangerous for our vehicle, and we want to explore the region further south before we swing up to Murghab anyway.

Our idea was to find a nice spot in the valley for a couple of nights, and to do some hiking. And of course we did.

Beni made a beautiful stone sculpture, but the strong gusty wind had other ideas, and blew it down.

A new moon

Later it became still, and Beni and I had an amazing night around the campfire together again, while Lisa slept. We've been chatting for hours, and getting to know each other so well. He really is a beautiful man, so warm, open and enthusiastic. And so full of wisdom.

An old soul in a 28 year old body.

Walking Through Paradise

Poor Lisa.

She's been feeling crap for days now, with regular fevers, vomiting, diarrhoea, and no energy. Despite both being nurses, Beni and Lisa are unsure as to what exactly is going on.

So Lisa decided to rest for a day, while Beni and I went off for an all day hike, into what turned out to be the most beautiful isolated wonderland you could ever imagine.

This morning's sunrise. Superb.

But of course I went back to bed.

Beni and I crossed the river on this wonky swingbridge, and headed into a side valley, the Jizev Valley.

It was quite hot in the sun, but there were some amazing little shady spots to hang out alongside the small but wild white water river.

Fresh wild apples

Look at the root system of this tree. It ain't letting go, no way.

As we were hiking up the valley I honestly felt like I was walking through a painting, everything looked so perfect. A bright blue sky, sheer and magnificent mountains, stunning lakes, and beautiful cliffs and scree slopes greeted us at every turn.

Eventually the valley opened out into the most exquisitely picturesque and fertile  cultivated plain.

A woman invited us for chai, sat us on carpets in a beautiful little shelter, and, as usual, gave us the treatment.

Another woman, her mother, was very old, and couldn't stop smiling. She'd randomly come over to give us things - another cushion, some more sweets, or just to pour us more chai.

Unbelievable.

We wandered through the village, and headed further upstream.

Eventually we reached a beautiful lake.

Beni thought about swimming, but it was too cold. We splashed around, and our feet hurt like hell after a few seconds in the freezing water.

Looking back at the village.

More stringy smoked cheese

We spent the day up there, and eventually had to head back, although we wanted to hike on.

We needed to collect firewood for the night, we carried it for about 3 clicks at least, it was a full workout.

Pretty precarious track innit? We're getting used to these around here.

We had another night of a sick Lisa and a long and deep campfire conversation.

The Wakhan Valley

Well, here I am, in yet another Paradise.

I'm sitting on a patch of green grass, it's warm but not hot, there's a small creek flowing beside me, and I've got time to just be here.

Yesterday we took off from our Bartang Valley campsite and headed back to the dodgy yet stunningly beautiful Pamir Highway.

These small stone walls have been built pretty much along the whole border, on the Tajik side, to protect local soldiers from random sniper fire.

The kids are even uniformed up way out here.

We drove south along the border, eventually reaching the town of Khorug, the biggest town in the whole of the Pamir region.

Airstrip

Khorug's not really that big though. One long main street and a few side streets, a population of maybe 30,000, a bazaar, a few supermarkets, a couple of fuel stations, a few government buildings, and lots of little shops. That's the whole town.

Lisa was feeling crap, but still accompanied us on our little re-stocking expeditions.

The local bazaar

Electric shavers, adorned with the psychopathic mug of a young Vladimir Putin.

Vlad the Genocider.

There was a young crazy called Vlad

Whom history will show was real bad

His bombs kept a-droppin'

'Cos the world didn't stop 'im

And now millions are sadder than sad

Having been in the Russian sphere of influence for many months now, I've had a million conversations about the brazen ambitions and the brutal expansionism of Putin's Russia. I've spoken to many many Russians who've had to flee their homeland, and to many of Putin's Ukrainian victims.

The topic of Russia is always only a few minutes away around here, and most of the time the discussions are fraught with anger and pain.

We left Khorug and, instead of following the Pamir Highway, headed south, to continue along the Afghan border, into the isolated Wakhan Valley.

Afghanistan's much closer now.

It's super quiet in here, with only a few tiny settlements so far, and we headed up another small side valley to find a spot to camp, because it's difficult to wild camp right on the border - the Tajik military moves you on if they find you.

Amazingly, we bumped into a group of 6 Europeans, all off-roaders, who've driven here from the other direction. We decided to camp with them, and had a beautiful night chatting around the campfire.

It was cold at night, the coldest I've been for ages, and a real taste of things to come, as we get higher into the mountains, and as autumn begins to bite.

Into The High Mountains

We're not sure exactly what to do now, as it all depends on how Lisa feels.

If she recovers, our plan is to head to the town of Ishkashim, where there's an Afghani market every Saturday.

Then we'll eventually make our way north, drive over the very cold and high mountain passes, and finally reach the Kyrgyz border.

But at this stage we really don't know.

And so the wise words that the old Tibetan monk spoke to Yoav and I have come back to me now.

Of course, they always ring true.

Every day will be just as nature intended❤️

http://buymeacoffee.com/krolesh9