Pamir Highway (3)

The third and final leg of our Pamir experience took us downhill to the more breathable altitude of Khorugh (2,200m, so still not exactly sea level). After the dusty tumbleweed towns of the high mountain passes, Khorugh (population 30k) feels like Paris. A little souvenir shop! A couple of statues! People wearing Adidas! Phone signal strong enough to buffer a modest JPEG!

Back in Langar we met a young translator who claimed to be the son of the Chief of the Secret Service, and an international footballer, and that he had 15 girlfriends. Talking to him was like playing two truths and a lie. This bullshit artist insisted we stay with his family once we arrived in Khorugh, saying his father would be too busy to notice (pulling out dissidents’ fingernails no doubt). We casually failed to get his number, and stayed above an Indian restaurant instead.

This was extremely exciting because, as any vegetarians will know, an Indian restaurant is one of the safest havens for meat-free menu options. Even their basic, underspiced dal came as a huge relief, although they did also offer us 'salty yoghurt lassi', which feels like a local hybrid only Central Asians could dream up.

There's a reason Central Asian cuisine hasn't caught on as a global culinary sensation. Most dishes consist of tough, unidentified meat chunks in water, and dry, week-old bread. Sometimes the chef finds a single carrot and shares it between all the guests over a whole week. There is also lots of jam, inexplicably, even with the meat. So we've had to compromise our dietary morals a fair bit, and are looking forward to more variety in weeks to come.

After Khorugh we trekked into the Bartang Valley, to spend a night in Jizev village, a remote mountain community only accessible on foot. Here we had a blissful, relaxing day by the river, reading and skimming stones, before a surprisingly delicious dinner of pilaf rice (called 'plov' in this region) with a fresh tomato salsa. They apologised for the lack of meat, although we were obviously delighted.

We're now on our way down to the capital, Dushanbe, the terminus of our Pamir tour. The roads on this final stretch are well tarmacked, so we got to see how fast driver Salih can go when he's unleashed. Turns out, pretty fast, and he's very happy to take the racing line across either side of the road around blind corners 🥲 We've both seen him take surreptitious gulps of something from a small, unlabeled plastic bottle while he's driving—we've decided not to ask any questions.

The last day of the Pamirs was also our last day on the Afghan border. For six days we’ve been able to look across the Panj river at small holdings, hovels and hamlets on the riverbanks in Afghanistan. Heading for the border crossing at the bazaar town of Ishkeshim, we spied across the river a motorbiker with a woman in full burkha riding pillion, and a cage of chickens on the back. Chickens ain’t going to sell themselves.

We are shattered after over 1,700km through the Pamir mountains, Wakhan Corridor, along the Afghan border, three high altitude hikes, and many nights of shared dorms and snoring roommates. Time for a little R&R.Baca lagi