Tearing it up in Tajikistan!

Jammed into the trusty Mitsubishi Pajero with our three fellow travellers, we ascended to over 4,000m above sea level to the Kyrgyzstan/Tajikistan border. The border crossing was fairly pain-free as our driver kindly took care of the numerous bribes we were required to pay. Paying bribes is such a given around here that our bribe money was included in the price of our car hire fee.

The only incident occurred as we were driving through no mans land between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan we were flagged down by a couple of hapless Mongol Rally drivers needing a tow over the final pass. The Mongol Rally was dreamed up by couple of blokes in England, and participants have to get from London to Mongolia in cars with engines smaller than 1.4 litres. It seems like a great adventure - there's plenty of balls ups and mechanical repairs required but all for charity so we reckon it's worthwhile!

We were almost across no mans land into Tajikistan when a border guard popped his head into our car and cheerfully asked Tom is he was 'Australian Taliban' - not sure whether to laugh or poo ourselves, we assured him that we were not affiliated.

The border crossing from Kyrgyzstan to Tajikistan.

They drove this bad boy from London to Tajikistan and we don't think it will go much further...

Our first stop along the spectacular Pamir Highway in Tajikistan was Karakul, an incredible aqua blue lake at 3,900m above sea level. It's a pretty desolate place that almost makes you feel like you're on the moon - there's not a tree in sight and surrounded by rocky, barren mountains. 

Tom & KG at Karakul, it was brutally cold!

Karakul again, the town looks like a set from Mad Max.

Sleek, rugged, sexy and great on fuel, oh and a Mitsubishi Pajero.

After a big feed and a good night's sleep we were off to Murgab, a regional hub which is home to (allegedly) 15,000 people. We're pretty sure 12,000 of them were out of town (or more likely, the Lonely Planet guy didn't extend his population research beyond a dodgy Wikipedia page). From Murgab we embarked on a day hike through the Pshart Valley (yes, pronounced Shart). We sorted out a guide from a local yurt camp who was about 10 years old. He was great value, even helping Alessandro take a few portrait shots along the way. He was skipping up the mountain while us unfit, pathetic tourists dragged ourselves up the mountain puffing like fat kids in PE class. 

A local kid gawking at a bunch of tourists.

KG at the start of the trek up the Pshart Valley.

Alessandro getting our 10-year old guide to take his new Facebook profile picture.

It was bloody windy at the top!

The view down the other side of the pass.

Alessandro - the World's most photogenic man.

The crew decided that the river needed a dam.

Next we were off to Bulunkul, the coldest place in Tajikistan. This place apparently gets down to -60 degrees in winter, but thankfully we were there in summer so it was pretty pleasant. The town consisted of a few mud huts and broken down cars, with a handful of goats, cows and howling dogs. I think 'post-apocalyptic' would be the best way to describe it. Heading outside to the drop dunny at 2am was a pretty nerve-wracking experience!

We then descended into the famous Wakhan Valley, which felt like an oasis after being at high altitude for nearly a week. It was much warmer, with plenty of trees, oxygen and wheat crops (still harvested by hand). At times we were a stones throw away from Afghanistan, and we drove along the border for about a week, with only a river between us. It was fascinating to get a glimpse into their lives, even if it was from a distance. From what we saw, Afghanistan looked incredibly poor with very little infrastructure. If roads exist, there are more people and donkeys walking along them than driving. Farming seemed even more basic than in Tajikistan, and work conditions quite dangerous. It looked absolutely stunning however, with huge peaks stretching the length of the border.

Full group shot - including our driver and Tom holding Gianliugi the Melon.

Just across the river, some Afghans butchering an animal and offering to sell us some, we declined.

Tom above the Wakhan Valley.

Olga & KG checking out the view in to Afghanistan.

The high peaks of Afghanistan that eventually lead in to Pakistan.

KG taking a rest/getting in to position for a photo.

Almost there...

There we go.

We noticed the people and language changing quite dramatically as we drove around, but wherever we were the people were incredibly friendly and welcoming. We eventually left the Afghan border and headed north up to Dushanbe. The roads were absolutely cactus so the 522km drive took THREE DAYS! We only had a day in Dushanbe, and like many post-Soviet cities it wasn't particularly spectacular but it was great to have a beer, a nice meal and a hot shower. One notable attraction however was the World's Largest Flagpole, although we were informed by some flog from our hostel that apparently, "I've seen a bigger one in Jordan!" Good on ya champ!

The National Museum of Tajikistan.

The world's tallest flagpole, supposedly.

KG with a rose given to her by a local suitor, Tom was too busy smashing a magnum to realise what was going on.

Big thanks to our trip buddies Olga, Fraser and Alessandro who made our Pamir Highway trip such a great experience. They tolerated our god-awful accents and incessant swearing, Katherine's constant odour, watched an entire series of Summer Heights High without complaint and were always good for a laugh. Looking forward to catching up in the near future!