Day 11. Back to Dushanbe

The room was too hot to sleep last night, but all the best sleeping places over the river had been taken. Fortunately it cooled overnight so I did get some sleep by the time morning came.

Breakfast was set and the table was buzzing with anticipation for the day ahead - literally as bees had taken over one end of the table where the jams were placed. Honey production is a local industry and a good source of income for the locals, and across the river from the hotel there were scores of hives (which on my first visit here, I thought were houses! It was only until I saw kids playing this morning that the scale of the 'houses' became apparent). The bees had obviously found an easy source of sucrose and were gorging themselves on the various sugars on offer. What was interesting was how we were mostly content to eat breakfast with so many bees buzzing around us competing for the same food source, and when the table was cleared, the host treated the bees very gently like he was dealing with very young children.

The pristine asphalt awaited our chorus of single cylinder engines at full chat, paused only briefly by occasional breaks of gravel. The road is dramatic, sweeping and very fast, but care is needed on the corners with long drops awaiting an over ambitious right hand.

This part of the Panj river is framed on one side by Afghanistan and on the other by Tajikistan in a magnificent gorge that in places allowed the river to become calmer before erupting into full-on raging torrent.

We passed through the GBOA Checkpoint where our passports were once more checked and later stop for coffee and drinks next to a very wide alluvial plane created by a water runoff from our side of the gorge. 

Then more lovely winding and sweeping asphalt until eventually the road flattens out. But by now it's also very hot and like riding into a fan heater and do we need plenty of fluid to stay hydrated.

We stop for lunch at the same place we ate when we came in this direction. I remember it, and I remember not being very hungry because I was still very ill. This time I was on form and therefore enjoyed the soup and mantu (dumplings)placed before me. 

Then the fan heater was turned up to full power for the last blast on the flats. We thread our way past the traffic or at times are almost virtually barged out of the way by enthusiastically driven upmarket 4x4s.

At our last stop before Dushanbe there's a small boy who's obviously broken his leg at some point in the recent past. It's not healed well and his leg is deformed to the extent that he has difficultly walking. He seems happy enough, but you know this will blight his life. It's very sad to see. We are so lucky in the west, in so many ways.

Cary limbers up before jumping back on the bike.

Finally, we hit the outskirts of town and the first change of direction for a while at a roundabout. I notice my bike doesn't respond as I expect and the same again not long after. Looking down I can see the front tyre is very soft. I carry on, being even more cautious when slowing down or in corners. As I continue I can feel it getting worse; do I stop and wait for Anton in the Hilux or do I carry on hoping it stays inflated enough to limp home?

I opt for the latter and shift my weight to the back of the bike. Charlie thinks I'm just larking around. At highway speeds it's not so much of an issue as the tyre is kept virtually inflated by centrifugal momentum, but at low speed it becomes a handful wobbling and vibrating as I stop.

Finally we pull into the hotel but not before I nearly tumble on the last bend to the hotel road, it feels like the tyre nearly came off the rim. I push the bike the final few metres into the courtyard. Apart from the puncture, it has been supremely reliable. 

I forgot to start my watch when we left, so the tracking is 63km short 

Hugs and high fives all around, we've made it back in one piece - always a relief for us and the tour guides.

Before dinner Anton assesses the bike conditions, and the dents in my rims and the broken mirror warrant recompense. Apparently Andre feels bad about asking, but 115 dollars seems fair. Nobody else incurs a charge, but I do tend to ride a little harder than average - a Biker Dom afliction. 

Dinner is at a group favorite, Al Sham, middle eastern. But ice cream is also enjoyed. 

The Tajikistan ride is over, but the journey continues into Uzbekistan without our powered two wheelers, which are going back to Kazakhstan with Andrey and Anton.