Ed and the Truck on the Koitezek Pass (4271m ASL) on the Pamir Highway, known as the 'Roof of the World', Tajikistan. Hello! Sorry it has been such a while since we updated the blog. Since Bukhara we have not been able to find WiFi and our phones have had virtually no signal. During our entire time in Tajikistan we didn’t receive one text message! We are now in Kyrgyzstan and have been able to buy an internet dongle, so for the first time, I am writing the blog in the comfort of the truck! It’s been up and down a lot in the last few weeks and the adventure has been a little too adventurous at times... From the 12th to 18th May we enjoyed the sites of Bukhara, Gijduvan (where we purchased some traditional Uzbek Pottery) and Samarkand. The weather stayed hot for our entire duration in Uzbekistan. Bukhara was fantastic and hilariously became a bottle neck for fellow overlanders. We met so many lovely people. In Bukhara, we loved most the 45m Minaret which was built in 1127 and avoided destruction by Genghis Khan because he liked it so much himself. Apparently during his march to Bukhara (early 13th Century), he could see the tower from afar, and thankfully (for us), it still stands today, because it too impressed him so much. It is made out of intricately carved sandstone with very few ceramics. When we were admiring it, lots of local school children linked hands around its base. It took a few of them to match its circumference! From Bukhara, we travelled to Samarkand via Gijduvan. That evening we were embroiled in another black market diesel escapade. Ed paid $100 for 120 litres from some men who had practically forced us into the purchase. It was a good deal and because the diesel was already in canisters in the back of their Russian Lada, Ed agreed reluctantly to buy some. That night we learned the signal for diesel. Its thumb and pinky pointing out, with the waggle of the hand from side to side. After completing the transaction and handing over a crisp $100 note to the annoying diesel pests, they started shouting that they wanted $200! Double the agreed price. Well at that point Ed had already hopped sharpish back into the truck because we had heard a ‘buzz buzz’ of a police car and didn’t want to be caught buying black market diesel from the side of the road. Ed told them where they could shove it and we drove off. It was that night (we think) that our diesel was stolen. All 260 litres (plus) of it. We were oblivious of the theft however, until several days later when we were driving south from Samarkand to the Tajik border near Denau. Samarkand was remarkable, but more modern and much larger than both Khiva and Bukhara. We enjoyed all it had to offer as best we could, as unfortunately for us, our visit coincided with the Uzbek Presidential visit, and the most amazing buildings in the city (the Ragistan) were closed, and on our second day (attempting to see it), all the roads into Samarkand were blocked by police! In the end, we caught several taxi’s (squashed in with the locals) through the winding bumpy streets from the south side of the city. It was a hilarious and exhilarating experience, and although we never managed to see the Ragistan, we still enjoyed the impressive Bazaar and the remaining monuments Samarkand had to offer. The most beautiful of these being the Gur-i Amir, the final resting place of Amir Timur, the man responsible for many of the remarkable structures in and around the city. Inside his Mausoleum, the room containing his tomb was the most beautiful vision my eyes had so far witnessed along the Silk Road. There was a dim light, but the room glowed with a royal blue hue faceted with intricate gold designs. Every inch of the walls and ceiling were decorated and beautiful slabs of pale green onyx lined the lower parts of the walls. It was truly stunning. Ed and I had it all to ourselves. It was breath taking. Because we didn’t make it into the Ragistan, I was more determined than ever to come back again soon with Mam and Dad. Now I knew my way around and had an excuse to return! Later that evening, we drove south out of Samarkand and Ed decided to pull over to transfer some diesel from the large tank to the main tank. It was then we realised that nearly every drop of our diesel had been stolen…. We felt sick. The lock was broken on the main tank and they even stole Ed’s 20 litre metal canisters, one storing our emergency diesel and the other oil…. Our fate now, was to return towards Samarkand and begin the arduous task of finding more black market diesel…. It took 2.5hrs before we were on the road south again…. To top our day off, we found a rural village in the mountains south of Samarkand and Ed pulled over to enquire with some locals (selling rhubarb on the side of the road) whether we could park up for the night outside their house. The husband put his arm around Ed and then showed him his drive around the side of the house which was gated. It was ideal. We were tired and it was time to stop. Unfortunately, they wanted some money (which was acceptable), but the wife asked for 100,000 Som (£20)! Ed scoffed at her. Then the husband asked for $100!... When Ed refused them both, they agreed finally to 10,000 Som and the wife gave Ed the evilest look of death achievable. If it hadn’t been so late in the day we would have carried on looking, but given it was getting dark and we were ascending a hill into the mountains, this was the only even spot we had seen. Because we didn’t feel very welcome, we made sure we got up early the next day to continue our ascent up the mountain. We woke to another glorious day and the views were spectacular. The road looked like something from a James Bond film, except instead of racing around the hair pins in a sports car, we had a cheery birds eye view and our maximum speed was probably about 10 miles per hour! The truck doesn’t have exhaust breaks, so engine breaking (with the gears) is our only way of stopping. It was better for Ed anyway, as he could enjoy the view. Even more spectacular than the craggy rocky edifies covered in spring green was the sight of a peculiar bird flying past the windscreen! It was azure blue with an orange back. Such a colourful, beautiful thing. We checked in the trusty bird book and it is called a ‘Roller’ (we are turning into right twitchers). We thought it was a lucky spot, but as the days rolled on, ‘Rollers’ were as common as magpies in this part of Central Asia. Fantastic. So our penultimate day in Uzbekistan was spent admiring the mountains, which quickly gave way to a flat sandy plateau where men could be spotted in every village making mud bricks out of the clayey sandy soils. Also on that day, we met two Brit Cyclists (Gayle and John), a lovely couple from the Merseyside area of the UK. They had been on the road for two years! And like us, they were heading to Tajikistan and the border town of Denau for the crossing. We made them a cup of Yorkshire tea and they told us all about their cycling adventures. They were in their forties (we are assuming) and they were truly inspirational characters. They knew exactly what made them happy and they were sticking to that thought and continuing to live the life they wanted. It gave us a lot to think about. We bade them farewell and continued through the sandy plateau for the remainder of the day, which eventually became a more undulating landscape culminating in miniature sandy gorges. Wonderful. Some 50km from Denau, we spent the night in our very own mini sandy gorge. The Sandstone cliffs either side were about 10m high, and the miniature valley in between was filled with short hay like grass, poppies and hundreds of beautiful green and yellow grass hoppers. Just as we were about to explore the little valley, a herdsmen on a donkey appeared on the hill above us and he slowly funnelled his flock of sheep and goats towards us. We guessed it was his land. We waited patiently for him to descend and then respectfully Ed approached him and asked if we could spend the night in the valley. He nodded genially and went on his way. I caught his eye and thanked him with the Uzbek gesture of putting your right hand to your heart and then Ed and I settled down for the night. It was a special spot, and the approval of the herdsmen made it more so. The following day (Saturday 17th) we made it to the Uzbek-Tajik border near Denau and had the most irritating crossing so far. On the Uzbek side there was no one. Just us. It still took about 3hrs to get through. The guards were immature and insisted on going through all of our photos and videos on the laptops. They couldn’t care less what was in the truck. They just wanted to be entertained. Even more painful for us, they wanted another $265 for the truck to leave the country. This was on top of the $400 we had paid for it to enter. What a joke. On the Tajik side, it was much faster and friendlier except they wanted $98 from us. Ninety dollars for the truck to enter the country (sigh), three dollars for some ecological tax (?) and a further five dollars for something we didn’t even understand. And then we entered Tajikistan, the country Ed was looking forward to most as it is the land of the Pamir Highway. It was time to test the truck’s metal, and our own bodies at high altitude as we would be scaling to heights of 4665m above sea level. All this was hard to imagine however, after crossing the border. We were transported from desert to a green oasis. Rice paddies lined the road, fields of green wheat and alliums bobbed in the muggy warm air and water was in abundance. Unlike Uzbekistan which was green from irrigation, in Tajikistan the snow-capped mountains in the distance fed a myriad of streams and tributaries from which the verdant landscape drank its fill. It was a sub-tropical paradise and remained so for our first two days in Tajikistan. We spent our first night by a milky green lake, which was in fact a Reservoir (Nurek), off-set by red ochre mountains and fresh spring grass. The following day, we passed rolling flower meadows interspersed with sandy drier sections and constantly goats, sheep, cows and donkeys would fill the road bringing us to a halt. We would watch from the cab as men on horses pushed them along to new pastures and the other locals (in cars around us) would beep their horns impatiently, while Ed and I just loved to watch the hundreds of animals being coerced along. It was fantastic. Even more a delight (for me). We pulled off road down a sandy track looking for a lunch spot and there on the floor was a tortoise! I squealed and jumped out of the truck, picking the poor thing up. Obviously the sudden G-Force of being projected into the air was too much for the little beastie and he kindly did a simultaneous number 1 & 2, just missing my legs and the cab seat by centimetres. I really wanted a photo with him, but as I had scared him so much, I decided to pop him back down. He scurried (quite quickly I thought) under a thistle and sadly for me…. that was that. Later that day we drove through the town on Kulob, before rising again into more mountains. At 1900mASL we found a wonderful spot for the night, off the road and facing the view of the valley from which we had ascended. Again more herdsmen passed us and seemed happy and content for us to be parked up. They smiled and waved and we did the same. It was cold that night and we hadn’t felt cold for a while after the desert sun of Uzbekistan. The following morning (Monday 19th May) we ascended further up the mountain before descending into a world of magnificent red rocks and green spring flowers. It was a fantastic road. It had rained overnight and there had been miniature landslides. We were stopped at one point as a machine was up on high clearing loose rock and stones to prevent a new landslide! We watched in awe as massive boulders were pushed down the cliff, bouncing off the track in front of us before walloping further down into the valley. It was impressive to watch and we laughed at the lack of H&S. hehe The red mountains finally gave way to our first view of Afghanistan and the mighty river Panj. In the drizzle, we looked down in awe at the scale of the valley sides below us. We would spend the next four days and three nights skirting the border of Afghanistan on route to Khorog, the gateway to the Pamir. At first I was daunted. Afghanistan….. As the days went by however, you quickly realised that it was the same as Tajikistan. The road was a giant gorge of grey sheer cliffs with the equally grey Panj gushing below. On our side of the river, was a road, sometimes a single track with ‘just’ enough room alongside a precipice some 10m metres above the river… (on my side of the truck!). On the Afghan side, the same startling cliffs, but no road. A mere track (called an Ovir) followed the river and our road. Sometimes we would spot people walking along it with their donkey’s, and the occasional bicycle. Every 20km or so, the grey sheer rock would open out slightly to reveal a small village clinging to the edge of the precipice. The villages seemed to alternate on the Tajik and Afghan side with the meandering of the river. It was astounding though, because the villages were leafy and green. Mulberry trees and beautifully kept small holdings grew lushly, alongside mud brick buildings and livestock. It was hard to imagine a life along a cliff edge. The locals were truly hemmed in by the sheer cliffs behind them and the mighty Panj opposite. They could only go left or right along the road. Occasionally over those four days along the Panj, the scenery would look stark and oppressive (like the land of Mordor), and then it would change to majestic and other worldly. We were shocked to see pom poms of pink wild alliums growing along small grassy ledges amongst the sheer grey rock. We were also mesmerised by bright yellow spear like flowers which occasionally would fill the rock hewn valley sides where the road widened slightly. The scene looked like something from an alien world and we took lots of photos! Similarly, some of the meanders of the Panj would give way to silvery grey beaches. We walked to one such beach and sat opposite Afghanistan for a while, drinking in the atmosphere of the place. It was brooding, as the weather during our entire four day journey was as grey as the rocks hemming us in. On the beach however, I spotted some dark mahogany red, iron rich rocks where the sun had produced a metallic sheen of colour; blues, greens and purples. Fantastic! I bagged one of them and it is currently sitting in our dirty laundry bag. Hehe. And finally, on Thursday 22nd May we descended into Khorog. Our eyes focused on the road and we thought maybe a landslide had occurred, as the road into the town looked to be full of trees and all sorts. On closer inspection (we got out of the truck for a closer look) we realised it was a blockade. The trees alongside the road had been cut down and pushed onto the tarmac. Dry stone walls had been assembled and there were lumps of metal covered in tarpaulin. There were 5 men in the road guarding the blockade. The atmosphere was casual however. Not threatening. People were standing around talking and very small vehicles were using the pavement to by-pass (undeterred) through the blockade. The truck would never fit. We decided not to linger. Ed turned the truck around and we drove back the way we came. A couple of miles down the road we spotted a guest house (Serena) on the left and in the car park was the Land Rover belonging to Dagmar and Klaus, the wonderful German couple we had shared the Kazakh-Uzbek border crossing with some weeks previous. They had passed us the previous morning on route to Khorog. Obviously they hadn’t made it through either…… We were invited to park the truck next to the Land Rover by the gardener who had spotted us outside, and as Ed was parking up, I hopped out as Klaus appeared at the steps at the front of the guest house. Soon we knew the reason behind the blockade. The previous morning two people had been shot by the police. It was fuelled (apparently) by the brother of a local War Lord being arrested. Government buildings had be burnt down by the locals and subsequently the police had opened fire killing two people. Seven had been injured. The locals had built the blockade to prevent the army marching into the town and killing more people. Apparently a similar incident had occurred two years previous and the blockade had been in place for 7 weeks. It was bad news. Dreams of the Pamir Highway began to drift away. We couldn't really believe it. It was something you never expected to be so close to. We sat in the lounge of the guest house and poured over maps with Dagmar and Klaus thinking of alternative routes. It was more than 5 days back along the Panj to Dushanbe and none of us wanted to entertain the thought of retracing the exhausting road along the Panj. I contacted the British Embassy and soon after, they called Ed’s phone, but didn’t have any information. The UK GOV website had reported the incident of the 21st May and advised everyone to stay in-doors, but we knew more of what was happening than the embassy. Dagmar and Klaus hadn’t even seen the blockade the previous day. They had stopped in the guest house to rest – the same morning as the incident, and some local German charity workers living in Khorog had come to explain to them the news before getting out of town.To put an even more sour note on events, the guest house was charging $125 per night – disgustingly taking advantage of Dagmar and Klaus.The place was empty. The hostess however, gave us tea and told us that the Mayor was coming to the guest house for lunch and for a meeting regarding the blockade. She told us he would talk to us and maybe we would get through. We couldn’t believe it! We thought we would be meeting the Mayor of Khorog and suddenly everything seemed more positive. After waiting for over half an hour, the Mayor never made it to the guest house. Unsurprisingly he couldn’t get through the blockade. It was then, that we decided to drive away from Khorog and stay in convoy with the Dagmar and Klaus that night. On the way back up the road, we enquired with locals about another route to the Pamir Highway, avoiding Khorog. The only other road was through the Bartang valley, and after some enquires, we learned that it was currently impassable. Slightly defeated, we settled at a lovely spot by the Panj overlooking the mountains with the hopes to return to Khorog the next morning to check out the situation. The sun finally came out and we allowed mother nature and the glorious views of the mountains to uplift our depressed moods, as we whiled away the remainder of the day sat in our deck chairs, drinking tea and eating biscuits in the sun with Dagmar and Klaus. We couldn’t think of a nicer couple to go through this experience with. The remaining hours of the day turned into a roller coaster…… The same German charity workers that had given Dagmar and Klaus the news suddenly arrived, along with a British couple, also working in Khorog and for the same charity (Johnny and Beth). They were a fantastic, inspirational bunch of people and we chatted to them for a while, explaining how sad we were about the whole situation. Just before the sun began to set, we waved goodbye to them, pondering our fate for thte next day. Forty five minutes after we had waved goodbye however, Johannes and Johnny appeared again. Johannes was in touch with a local in Khorog and he informed us that the blockade had been temporarily cleared. If we wanted to get through we had to go ‘now’ before the blockade was re-instated. We couldn’t believe it. We packed the truck and anxiously Dagmar and Klaus did the same just as the sun was setting behind the mountains. Anxiously we drove back towards Khorog not entirely sure what awaited us. After ten minutes we had caught up with three Chinese HGVs. They were going like the clappers. Obviously they had heard the news too and were thundering towards Khorog with hopes to make it through the blockade. From that point on, we relaxed. Surely the blockade had gone. At 8.30pm in the dark, we approached the blockade. It had been cleared! Immense relief followed and we couldn’t believe our luck and the small miracle of the local charity workers spotting us eating biscuits by the Panj! As we passed through, I caught the eye of the men clearing the road and nodded to them, thanking them. They smiled and waved back. The blockade was nothing to do with tourists which was reassuring. We passed through town as fast as we could. The truck had never been driven so meanly by Ed. Dagmar and Klaus remained behind us the whole way and we finally found a place to sleep alongside the road some 15km from Khorog. We got out of the vehicles in the pitch black Pamiran night and excitedly laughed and wooped wooped by the side of the road, neither one of us believing our luck. After all the anxious hours wondering what would happen, we had made it finally onto the Pamir Highway. From Friday 23rd May, for an entire week, we transited the infamous road. The landscape grew and grew as the days progressed. Snow-capped peaks (initially in the distance), shrank, until we were at the snow line (around 3500mASL). We saw our first Yaks around this height. They are funny things. They have the square body shape of a rhino, but are shaggy and have the head of a cow. They also run really fast! (every time I tried to take a photo!). As well as Yaks, the Pamir also became known to us as the land of the Marmots. They were everywhere! Such cuties. The Pamir Marmots were much bigger than the ones we had seen in Kazakhstan. They had honey-golden hair and were proper fatties. I would describe them as beaver like, with large flat black tails and they were such characters. When they spotted you, they would freeze in funny positions, and as you drove away they would bounce away to their burrows ‘boing boing boing’. Ed and I couldn’t get enough of them. It seems neither can the locals, as they get through the harsh winter months munching on Marmot…. (sob sob). By our second day in the Pamir, we had climbed to the first high pass, around 4721mASL. There was snow all around and the views were spectacular. Altitude is odd. On route to Khorog and beyond we had climbed steadily. On the first day, both of us became a bit light headed around 3000mASL, so we decided to stop for the night and allow our bodies to adjust. At over 4000mASL your nose is really dry and you can sense the air is thin. Also the sun is so potent. There is not enough atmosphere to shield you from the UV rays, and it feels like the sun is literally penetrating your skin. Subsequently, we covered up and wore hats. The wind however rips right through you. It’s an odd experience. On Saturday 24th May, we went off-road from the Pamir Highway and spent the night by an isolated blue lake, with our own beach and miniature icebergs. It was a lovely spot – but freezing once the sun went down! The following day (still off-road), Ed was in his element. We passed through the village of Bulunkal (the most remote and coldest village in the Pamir) and soaked up the magnificent view of the valley in-which the village was contained. A beautiful lake mirrored colourful melting multi-coloured mountains of red, green, grey and blue hues. The scene literally looked like an oil painting and neither Ed and I had seen anything like it. Alongside the lake was verdant green grass, which was being grazed by hundreds of Yak. From a distance they looked like little black specs. The scale of the landscape would continue to stop us dead in our tracks. Your brain could hardly take it all in. There was so much detail, so much vastness. I can only describe the Pamir as epic. That day, we also happened upon a geyser and more marmots, before spending the night alongside a ‘salt lake’ which had an eerie white crust along its banks, highlighted by yellow dried out plants and grey green rocks. Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance, and again we had the feeling of being on another planet. On Monday 26th May we made our way to Murghab, the last major town in the Pamir, and in Tajikistan. And what a place…. When we arrived, it looked inhospitable, unfriendly and alien. The buildings were mainly mud bricks and the young locals walked around in hoodies. We had to stop and stock up on food and diesel, but after our initial view of the town, we drove straight through it, not stopping and found an isolated valley to park up for the night about 10km out of town. The following day however, we did explore Murghab. The sun was out, and actually, our initial judgemental impressions turned out to be totally off the mark. We found the bazaar and finally got to buy some fresh fruit and veg, eggs and biscuits. The locals were really approachable and we enjoyed going in and out of the shops, which comprised metal 'storage' boxes that reminded me of site cabins at work. In one of the shops, we spotted a Canadian couple which we had passed the previous day on route to Murghab. They had enquired about an excursion to visit some petroglyphs in a cave (Shakhty) some 20km south of Murghab. They needed to fill a 4x4 with four people however, to make the cost worthwhile, so kindly they asked us to come too! We said yes and arranged to meet them at noon the following day. On Wednesday 28th May we found the Canadian couple (Audrey and Jaleck) at their guest house, and after lunch we met our driver and were whisked off-road towards the caves. The ride was ridiculous. The guide drove as fast as he could without destroying the vehicle and subsequently Audrey felt car-sick. We arrived at the caves after witnessing more of the desolate sandy Pamiran Valleys, with impenetrable red twisted red metamorphic sandstone cliffs that defined the Pamir Highway from Alichur to Murghab. The world Pamir, describes the large expansive plateau area, (I am assuming) which are formed from glaciers filling and eroding out the valleys. The driver indicated that we had arrived at the cave. He pointed up a really steep slope, and didn't joined us as we scrabbled up (which is quite hard to do at 4200mASL). On the wall of a slight overhang of rock (not really a cave) were several petroglyphs painted with red ochre. We could make out a bear and an ostrich and possibly a Yak. It was fantastic, and the valley was so isolated and desolate. No person was around for miles, and nothing grew except a few dried out shrubs, waiting for the summer sunshine. After the cave, we were whisked further down the valley in hopes to see some rare Marco Polo Sheep, which were in the area. Unfortunately we didn't spot any, but the driver did take us to a meteorite crater which was a large hole in the sandy ground, about 15m across. There was no meteorite at the base, so I enquired with the driver if it was in a museum, but he didn't know. Some of the locals were cynical that the hole was formed by a meteorite and suggested it was a sink-hole instead! Then it was time to go back to Murghab via more extreme driving.... It was not for the faint hearted. The following morning we departed from Murghab and continued north to a huge lake (Karakul) which was apparently (this time) formed from a meteor crater. The lake was blue and huge, but the weather that day was freezing and windy. We spent the night on the north-west side of the lake, some distance from the road, watching the snow capped mountains ahead of us disappear in a white fog, which inevitably turned out to be snow. It was the highest altitude we had slept (4100mASL) and we froze! On Friday 30th May we would cross the Tajik border into Kyrgyzstan. That morning however, we spotted a man in a yellow coat walking along the most horrendous bumpy road ahead of us, on route to the border. He put his arm out to hitch hike. We stopped to give him a lift. He told us that his wife was ahead on her bike looking for their tent which had blown away in the wind... The valley was massive, and we spent all morning helping them to find their tent. I sat with Gulnara for a little while, while Ed and Dimitri continued to look. She was a lovely lady. A Tartar from Russia, who was joining her husband on part of his round the world trip, cycling from Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan) to Dushanbe. Sadly the tent (which was bright yellow) was never recovered and we wished Dimitri and Gulnara good luck on their trip. They didn't have too far to get to Karakul (a small village with homestays) and possibly in Murghab or Khorog they could buy a new tent. So on we went to the border, and this time, it was a relatively easy and quick crossing, except the Tajik border guards wanted Ed to pay them some money (apparently for not having a receipt for the vehicle being brought into the country). This was rubbish however, as Ed did have the receipt.... they were just being dodgy and corrupt, but Ed held steadfast and refused to give them anything. Finally they gave up and we passed into about 20km of no-mans land between the Tajik and Kygyz borders. And for one of the first times on the trip, the landscape changed as soon as we crossed the Tajik border, from desolate high altitude desert to red and green striped mountains covered in fresh grass. Grass! we hadn't seen grass for nigh on two weeks! It was actually a relief to descend into the warm green valleys of Kyrgyzstan. The Kygyz border guards were very friendly, and a little girl called Irana (the daughter of one of the Customs Officers) made it equally lovely. She was 7yrs old and taught me a couple of Kyrgyz words while Ed sorted the 'official' stuff out. I gave her a one pound coin that I had in my pocket and she seemed pleased with her little treasure. On the down-side, the border guard told us that there was a problem on the road we were taking..... the only road north through Kyrgyzstan to Kazakhstan. That night we parked up in a beautiful red sandstone gorge which was lush with green shrubs, grass and butterflies. The following morning we arrived at the village of Sopu-Korgan to find yet another political road blockade. The 'only' road we could drive on was filled with yurts, cars and people. We couldn't believe it! It had happened to us again! We got the binoculars out and tried to get a closer look..... We were put off from walking into the mingling crowd, but Ed asked a passing local and he said the blockade would stay for 3 days. 'sigh'. We decided to turn around and explore another route west of Sary-Tash, a village we had already driven through the previous day. On the descent back to Sary-Tash the truck began coughing and spitting out white smoke..... Ed pushed it further down the hill to Sary-Tash and then we broke down..... Ed was anxious. It looked serious and possibly a damaged injector pump. I made tea while the tool kit came out, and to add insult to injury, the temperature dropped dramatically and it started to snow. We both had to contemplate the end of the trip, because Ed went through all the vehicle checks and assumed the worst.... Potentially we would have to abandon the vehicle and get a taxi to Osh to find a garage, or worse, to fly home. The concept was upsetting and we sat in mournful silence for a little while drinking tea. Ed had two final checks to complete, which comprised draining all the fuel from the injector pump, filter and sedimenter, and re-filling with fresh diesel. About ten minutes later, Ed opened the back door of the truck and seemed more encouraged. The truck was still running terribly, but it worked, so we decided to return the way we came, complete with a white smokescreen ejecting from the exhaust. After about 10 minutes of thrashing, the smoke cleared. We both breathed a huge sigh of relief as the problem seemed to have righted itself. Bad diesel (with water and dirt) was likely to blame from the dodgy diesel sellers of Uzbekistan. Pesky as they are.... The old man at the Sary-Tash check-point confirmed to us, that there was no other road to Osh. We had to return to Sopu-Korgan and sit out the blockade..... We decided on a very nice camp spot alongside the River Gulcha some 15km south of the road block and the following morning (1st June), I caught up on some washing and worked on the truck (draining the fuel tank, repairing a fuel leak and changing the gear oil and hub oil). All the while, we wondered if the German couple, Dagmar and Klaus had made it through the blockade, as we knew they had crossed the border on 29th May. Suddenly our musings were answered. We looked up from our washing and (Ed) diesel covered clothes, and zee Germans were walking towards us! They hadn't made it through either, but had spent a couple of days exploring the area around Peak Lenin. We caught up on each other's news and then decided to give the blockade another go. Together; like Khorog again! We quickly packed up the truck and once more, the Land Rover and our (now healthier truck) were in convoy again, making a beeline towards the protesters! Once we got there, Ed, myself and Klaus hopped out. In the rain, there were less people mingling about than the previous day and the atmosphere seemed more settled (i.e. less drunkenness). All three of us walked into the blockade to find out if we could cross, leaving Dagmar with the vehicles. A man with one leg, approached us and led us along a path beside the blockade, which skirted alongside the River Gulcha, which appeared to be a passable off-road option for avoiding the road block. Annoyingly however, the locals had a low-lying white electricity cable running above our potential escape route, and the truck would never fit under it. Soon we were surrounded by protesters wondering what we were up too.... One of their henchmen dramatically approached us and crossed his arms in the shape of an 'X' indicating that we could not pass through.... In the rain, I decided to return to the vehicles and Dagmar, leaving Ed and Klaus to negotiate further. They stood there in the rain (trying to look as bedraggled as possible) and finally the wife of the protest 'leader' came over to them and explained the situation (in perfect English). Apparently their local government candidate had been arrested and imprisoned, and so unable to partake in a forthcoming election campaign. She explained that the blockade would last one week, and she wanted to know if we would publicise their campaign. We were tourists however, and could not get involved. The husband (protest leader) then told Ed and Klaus to return in one hour, and we would be allowed to pass through the blockade (via the off-road path alongside the river).... We ate lunch and an hour passed us by. Klaus took the lead in the Land Rover in-case we blocked up the route with the truck, and soon we were in the middle of the blockade. The Land Rover made it down onto the river bank with ease. The truck however, slowly squeezed through a gap between the Yurts in the road and other HGV's. Just as it looked like we were going to make it, the fierce henchman (who had made an 'X' gesture to us), stood in the middle of the road, blocking our way, punching his fists together at Ed, giving him the most intimidating evil stare.... He did not want us to pass through. This was contrary to what the protest leader wanted, and we were beckoned forward by many other friendly protestors, who calmly ignored the scary man who didn't want us to pass through. Seizing the chance, Ed edged forward, ignoring the man waving his fists about, and Klaus appeared, jumping on the roof to lift the white cable above the height of the truck box. Soon we were cab window facing the mud, sliding down a steep muddy slope to the river. It was touch and go, but by some miracle the truck made it and stayed up-right! Dagmar took photos the entire time, and we celebrated quickly alongside the River bank, before driving off as quickly as possible. Staying in convoy we found a lovely camp spot by the river some 35km north of the blockade. In the river valley there were several men loading up a blue truck with the river gravels, and after we parked up, they came over to say hello and watch Ed and Klaus straightening up the winch cable on the truck. They helped with the cable, and then disappeared. Twenty minutes later, they returned with vodka and a local mildly alcoholic fermented milk drink. The remainder of evening was spent getting wasted on vodka, singing and trying to communicate. Payment for the vodka comprised Ed and Klaus helping to load up the truck with gravels (5 to 6 tonne) with shovels. It was hilarious. We have a video... to follow. The next day we made it to Osh (I was ill). We couldn't believe we had successfully passed through two road blocks with Dagmar and Klaus and the four of us celebrated with lunch in the truck cooked by Dagmar. We also shared some of our photos of the trip so far. They are an amazing couple, and we couldn't have done it without them. They are the perfect balance of good humour and courage in the face of an overlanding drama. When we said goodbye, jokingly we all hoped that we would not meet at another blockade again, but next time near the Black Forest, (on our route home), where Dagmar had invited us to their home for some 'real' Schwartzvolderkirschetorte. And now, we are in Osh. Its warm, there are no road blocks, we have just frequented the Bazaar and re-stocked our fridge and we couldn't be happier. If anyone has Skype, we now have internet access for the next 7 days (signal permitting), so if you want to see our bedraggled smiley faces, then give us a Skype! Apologies for this verbose blog and spelling mistakes, because I can't be bothered this time to read through and check. Much love to all at home. Roslyn & Ed.
5 Comments
Jo
6/6/2014 04:15:44 am
God rotter an interesting couple of weeks! Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow on Skype xx
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sue canney
6/8/2014 07:43:02 am
Keep safe and keep the blog going Ros./ much lovexx
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Nick at RAW
6/13/2014 02:04:33 am
Hi to both
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Lucy
6/17/2014 10:15:06 pm
So enjoying your amazing blog Ros. How brave you both are. Incredible.
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herna
6/18/2014 12:43:45 am
Good luck ! I love your blog!!
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AuthorRos: Both Ed and I will be updating the diary blog as much as possible! WTS. Archives
September 2014
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