After a very poor day yesterday, today was a blast. At reveille and after a good night's sleep my Garmin body battery level was at 74%, that's good enough for me, I'm good to go!
Breakfast, in the company of a man from York (where Chris lives), was taken overlooking the now faster flowing river, which has also changed colour (eggs and sausages were also harmed in the making of this blog entry). A quick refuel and the group is also good to go!
We turn off the main road and start negotiating gravel. Apparently we've been on the Pamir Highway since leaving Dushanbe, but now with the asphalt behind us, it seems more believable. The upper part of the Pamir Highway is spoken of with the same reverence as the Patagonian Altiplano or the high Tibetan Plateau, both of which our group have ridden in the past, so we are looking forward to being moved by the scenery and atmosphere as well as our bikes. The scenery is already looking amazing, but this snap shows the terrible dichotomy of many beautiful places, particularly in Asia.
At one point I stop for a photo, but my retardation was not so elegant and I end up in a heap by the side of the road next to a pile of sand. Tactical dismount one; photos ensued.
We're still following the Panj river and the Taliban on the other side. Suddenly we see a 'Taliwagon' convoy across the river, white flagged Hilux vehicles complete with heavy machine guns (my smartphone picture isn't particularly clear). But the weird thing is that we're sure we can hear them playing music! Hasn't this been forbidden? The only thing between them and the rest of Afghanistan is a very, very high cliff, so we speculate that they've let their turbans down where no one in their hierarchy can see them - party time!.. But, Tactical dismount 2 - in my haste to grab a photo, having stopped, and fumbling for my camera, I topple. Danny was behind me, but he was also distracted by the Taliban, so no pictures - haha!
Later I photograph a group of dodgy looking bike riders apparently heading from the direction of Afghanistan. But they're waving so it must be OK.
As we've started to move into higher altitudes from the baked lower valley, the river begins to gain character becoming wild in places and you can see large rocks that have been tossed aside in past times by its power.
It's mostly relatively narrow, maybe 30-50m wide, but in places it slows down and gains significant width. At these points agriculture becomes feasible and we see orchards and other farmed plots often attached to villages. Chris says it reminds him of Alpine scenery in Switzerland.
Lunch was soup and sourdough bread! Another Biker Dom passion.
Our group has become loose of late, Andre giving us free rein to ride ahead without him leading. We take full advantage, stopping occasionally for photos or drinks. We spot a nifty drinks cooler at a particular stop.
After one break we set off and at some point Mark takes the lead having overtaken the leading rider at the time. Later on I arrive at a checkpoint but there's no sign of Mark. The guards don't speak English, so we can't determine whether Mark has gone through, but as it's a checkpoint the obvious decision would have been to stop, especially as we've had to show our documents at most checkpoints so far. We had seen a road sign a few km back with a road heading away from the river, but surely he wouldn't have taken that?
Have you seen this man?
Charlie arrives and decides to chase Mark in case he has gone that way, as surely he would not have gone through a checkpoint. Andre follows too when he finally arrives with the Hilux support vehicle. Chris has the bright idea to show the guards a picture of Mark to ask if he's gone through - they nod their heads, and we slap ours! 🤦♂️ Anton in the Hilux manages to contact Andre and 20 minutes later we go through the checkpoint ourselves.
We head off in pursuit of Mark but there's still no sign of him after what feels like 20km or more, is he in a ditch, or fallen in the river? There's no sign of him. Andre and I, now leading at pace, make good progress, slowing down in villages; but through one, a small child hearing the bikes runs out from behind a group of people and a cow. Andre has already stopped, but not before the mother has fallen over holding back the child, and the cow spooked by the commotion, has pulled its handler into the road. The kid will surely have been reprimanded with a slap and the look on the mother's face was as good as as a slap to Andre's. Soon afterwards we stop for one of Andre's ciggy breaks. Children playing football next to the road gather and they confirm that Mark has passed them.
We finally arrive at our destination town, Khorog, and reclined waiting on his bike's saddle is Mark. So he's not in the river or in a ditch, that's a relief. There will be words at dinner... His excuse: the guards waved me through.
The hotel has lovely marble floors and seems very elegant. But the rooms we are led to have multiple beds and no en-suite bathrooms; accommodation for the workers. Mutiny brews and Steve is already on Booking.com looking for alternate lodgings (such a primadonna). But Charlie says he'll sort it and he does, our en-suite rooms are a floor above; but not before Christopher and Mark have redecorated the inside of the bowls in the communal toilets. Luckily there appear to be no other guests.
Tomorrow is a rest day, gift shopping and R&R. Expect plenty of saffron* and healthy glowing skin.
Completely opposite to yesterday, today was definitely a day I'd rather not forget.
*other gifts are available, but nobody cares.
