Yagnob Valley, or thereabouts...

After our hike through the Fan Mountains, we had a few days to kill before entering Uzbekistan. We decided to spend a few nights in what we thought was the Yagnob Valley. It turns out the Yagnob Valley is about 20km further than where we ended up, and we never did learn the name of the valley we were in.

Our map indicated that the road to Yagnob Valley was pretty remote. However, the Anzob tunnel, which is on the main road from Dushanbe to Khojand, was closed for reconstruction, causing all north-south traffic to be re-routed onto another road which went right past the turnoff to the Yagnob Valley. This alternate main road was in a laughably bad state, with many a pot hole, and much of it unsealed. Traffic was slow and followed a thin river through a narrow gorge with high rocky walls. Despite the poor road and slow journey, the scenery was amazing and this has been one of my favourite roads to travel so far.

The village of Margeb.

We got a taxi to Margeb, which was the first town off the busy, re-routed road. It was much more peaceful here. We had thought this village lay in the Yagnob Valley, but learned upon arriving that we were wrong. We asked locals the directions to Yagnob, which they indicated with their hands and arms... a very long way.

Hitting the road.

After walking less than 5km we came upon an apricot orchard. Our plan was just to have lunch here, but after snacking on some (ok lots) of fresh apricots we decided to spend the night. 

We left the apricot orchard early the next day and walked further into the valley, grateful for the fact that the high valley walls meant the road was in shade. After a couple of hours, though, the sun came overhead and the valley started to heat up.

Walking into the valley.

The river swung east and we followed it for a few more kilometres before Claire's sickness revisited. We stopped for break in the shade of an apple tree, where Claire promptly fell asleep. When she awoke the day had become hotter and she was still feeling substandard. We decided to find somewhere close to camp for the night. We walked on a bit further before we found a flat spot next to the river, shaded by a tree and close to a beautiful clear waterfall that fell across the road and joined the river.

Claire at the waterfall as it crosses the road.

We pitched our tent here and happily collapsed in the cool shade. It was a lovely campsite, with a little sandy beach and plenty of river boulders upon which to perch and watch the water as it danced and frolicked over the rocks. 

Claire wasn't feeling any better the next day, so we decided to have a rest day before heading back to Margeb the day after. By this time we were well and truly over eating two minute noodles, and were very eager to return to the apricot field. Much to our dismay, when we finally reached the orchard it was full of local villagers harvesting the trees. We were terribly disappointed and hungry. We continued walking into the village and came upon three women (a grandmother, daughter and grand daughter) on the road who were returning from their harvest with several buckets full of apricots.

While Claire was busy devising a strategy whereby one of us would distract them while stole one of the buckets and made a break for it, the women engaged us in conversation then poured handfuls of apricots into our eager hands. A few minutes later, we were invited back to their house and provided with a small feast.

The lovely mother and daughter who invited us back to their house for chai and food.

After this early lunch we headed back to the road a hitched out of the valley with a couple of locals. They were headed south, and we were going north back to Sarvoda, so they dropped us off at the main road. We waited here for a few minutes before a lovely young truck driver picked us up. Unfortunately, his truck broke down about an hour into the drive, but we were picked up by another car and made it back to Sarvoda that afternoon.

Hitched a ride to Sarvoda in one of these bad boys (before it broke down).

We had another rest day in Sarvoda before getting a taxi back to Dushanbe. In Dushanbe we stayed with a couch surfer for two nights. He was a lovely Afghan guy who worked with a humanitarian aid organisation helping refugees and stateless people in Central Asia. He and another guest he had at the time were very hospitable, taking us out for dinner and showing us the sights of Dushanbe.

Lake Iskander-Kul

After spending one night in the very hot and humid Dushanbe we decided not to waste any time getting to the Fan Mountains. But before slogging it out in the Fans we decided to have some chill time at Lake Iskander-Kul.

We heard the road north of Dushanbe was a bit treacherous. The five kilometre Anzob tunnel en-route was notorious for accidents. Thankfully it was closed as road works were taking place, but that meant we would be heading over Anzob Pass instead, which is also known to be a dangerous stretch of road. With this is mind, we decided to size up the taxi drivers wisely before committing to get in any cars. Upon arriving at the northern taxi stand we were inundated by taxi drivers shouting destinations in our faces, 'Iskander-Kul? Alaudin? Khojand?' It was overwhelming, but at the same time gave us some leverage to bargain. I think they were originally asking 400 somoni. We accepted a ride from an older driver who spoke a little English and wasn't too pushy. We bargained him down to 100 for the two of us for the drive to Sarvoda. Unfortunately, that was a share taxi price so we had to hang around for an hour or so while some other passengers arrived to fill up the car.

I'm glad we were warned about the drive. Not only was the road steep and dangerous but many of the drivers on the road were completely reckless - overtaking on blind corners and going way too fast on gravel roads. Thankfully our driver was sensible and even stopped so we could take photos while going over the pass.

View from Anzob Pass 3,372m 

He dropped us in Sarvoda quite late in the day, so we decided to stay at a home stay in town called Mehmonkhona Yazdon.

Our homestay in Sarvoda 

It was only 10 somoni a night (AUS $2.20) and the host family was lovely. The taxi driver gave us his phone number before dropping us off in case we ended up in Khojand - his home town.

The people in western Tajikistan are very hospitable. They seem less interested in making a profit off you and more interested in getting to know you. For example, the next day our taxi driver to Iskander-Kul invited us into his home for 'tea' as we passed his home town on the way to the lake. 'Tea', we soon discovered, meant a small feast, including bread, yoghurt, biscuits, and fresh apricots (straight from their tree)!

Our taxi driver and his son having us for tea.

He even loaded us up with two bags of dried apricots on our departure.

The drive to Iskander-Kul is stunning. The road follows a river through a deep gorge with corrugated rock formations on either side.

The pastel blue lake is surrounded by high mounds of granite rock overlooking the water.

We hadn't even set up our tents next to the lake before our neighbours invited us over for dinner and vodka, and insisted we join in their target shooting. We passed on the vodka, but weren't going to say no to the rest...

Apparently Iskander-Kul is quite the party lake for local tourists, and where we stayed (Turbaza Iskander-Kul) gets busy and loud on the weekends. Despite this, it was relatively calm and peaceful where we pitched.

Thankfully for us, we were just there for two nights and took off on the Saturday morning. But not before a group of locals insisted we join them for breakfast (and vodka) at their chaikhana, a little platform off the ground with cushions and blankets.

Once again, we took up the offer and made lots of hand gestures in order to communicate our ages and marital status. These are inevitably amongst the first questions we get asked. I got my first marriage proposal, but am still way behind Claire.

After eating way too much food, we decided it was time to hitch back to Sarvoda. It has been pretty easy to hitch hike in western Tajikistan compared to anywhere else we've been in Central Asia. In Kyrgyzstan they always expect payment due to just about every car being a taxi. But here hitching appears common and the locals seem to do it as well as travellers.

After sitting at the boom gate entrance to Iskander-Kul for an hour or so we got a hitch in a truck. Claire and I perched awkwardly in the front bench seat next to the driver and another man crammed against the gear stick. Our legs got pins and needles after the first twenty minutes, but who can complain when a local gives you a lift out of the goodness of their heart. They were kind enough to drop us right to our homestay in Sarvoda. Loving the local generosity in Tajikistan.