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.

Pamir Highway: Part Two

View of the Wakhan Valley in Afghanistan

Day Four - Alichur to Langar

Giant hole in the road from Alichur to Langar.

This year Tajikistan has had an unusually high amount of rain, resulting in land slides, erosion and the closure of the road between Khorog and Murgab. Driving in heavy rain can be hazardous but thankfully the weather was clear for us.

After much swerving and avoiding of crevices, we eventually came to the serene Lake Bulunkul. There was no one else was there so we took the opportunity to soak in the beautiful scene and listen to the birds. The lake was very still and reflected the white clouds and blue sky like a mirror.

Although I wouldn't recommend camping here as the place is swarming with mosquiotes, hence why I'm wearing my puffy jacket.

We backtracked to the highway and kept our eyes open for cairns signalling the start of the walk up 'Panorama Ridge'. This is a steep, two hour ascent with mountain views of China, Afghanistan, Pakistan and, of course, Tajikistan.

The hike was not easy as we were up pretty high (maybe around 5,000m) so I was severely short of breath before the walk even got steep. Towards the top, I had to stop every ten metres just to slow my heart rate down. Any secret fantasies I had of one day being a mountaineer were severely dashed along with my ego. I was sorely tempted to turn around on multiple occasions but my pride wouldn't let me. My perseverance eventually paid off when, after two hours of hard climbing, I reached the top and was rewarded with stunning views.

Kevin sitting by a cairn enjoying the panorama.

The descent was significantly faster than the ascent, and after spending some time at the top we were back in the car within 20 minutes.

Before long we called a stop again so we could take photos of the stunning Wakhan Valley. 

The Wakhan River provides a natural border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. It's exciting to be so close to a country that's so inaccessible at the moment. It's also incredibly beautiful. Not only is Afghanistan visible, but the snow-capped Hindu Kush mountain range in Pakistan also be seen beyond the Afghan mountains, as in the above photo.

These views were my favourite section of our journey and I had to stop myself from constantly asking Danier to keep pulling over for photos.

After driving across bare and rocky landscape all day it was a startling change to drive into the very green town of Langar.

The town is really beautiful and you will be tempted to stay more than one night. Unfortunately, the locals are very used to tourists and they will make every effort to relieve you of your money. We had a somewhat bad experience with Nigina Homestay and soon learned we were not the only ones. Another traveller had found the host stealing money from their luggage, and others commented that they just generally felt unwelcome.

However not everyone is looking to take your money and some locals just want to have their photo taken. Like these lovely ladies.

Day Five - Langar to Yumchun Fort

Before leaving town we took a short walk to the cemetery. It's on the side of a hill and you can keep walking up to a bunch of petroglyphs in the caves above. Apparently it is difficult to tell the originals from the more recent graffiti left by vandals.

Our first stop was at a Buddhist stupa (pyramid looking thing) in Vrang. Only a short walk from the road, it was well worth the side trip.

After admiring the view of town and taking lots of photos we headed back to the car. Only to find it less one tyre and Danier with spanner in hand.

'No problem, no problem', he reassured us.

Thirty minutes later the tyre was back on and we were back on the road.

There are many ruins and old forts along the Pamir Highway but Yamchun Fort is supposed to be the most scenic and, I must admit, I was pretty impressed.

To get there it's 6km of very steep switchbacks all the way up. But once you get to the top the lookout is remarkable.

If you keep driving past the fort you reach Bibi Fatima Hot Springs. This is the best hot springs I've ever been to. Even though it's enclosed it still feels really wild and natural. There are several rooms to bathe in (men and women separate, and private or public) but the quality of the spring you get is just a matter of luck. The room I went to was a public one and was built into the side of a waterfall. The hot water cascades down the side of a rocky mossy wall into the pool below where there were many naked women. Women come here to boost their fertility, maybe because many of the calcite rocks in the hot springs look like parts of the female anatomy. I tried to take a photo but because of all the steam and naked people it was rather difficult.

We stayed the night at Charshanbe homestay, the main room of which was set up in typical Pamiri style. It had a lot of character and many carpets on the floors and walls.

Day Six - Yamchun Fort to Khaakha Fort.

We had planned to spend the following night in the town of Ishkashim, but had been recommended a cool homestay that prior to Ishkashim, right next to the historic Khaakha Fort.

We had been told the place was called Intizor, but we didn't quite know what to expect. As we pulled up at the entrance we were a little wary, as it looked a little old and run down. But looks can be deceiving, as it turned out to be the best homestay of the whole trip.

We were greeted by our crazy host, a middle aged man and his young family. Soon after we arrived the son changed into traditional Afghan dress...

And then our host insisted we dress up! How could we refuse...

Kevin, me and Claire.

Our host was so animated and full of life, he loved shaking our hands and slapping us on the back. His poor wife was often shaking her head at his antics and secretly smiling once he turned his back.

Our host family

They were so hospitable they insisted on killing a goat in our honour. I felt bad that the family would make such a sacrifice for us until I witnessed the killing of the goat. Then I felt bad for the goat.

Host after slaughtering the goat. With a trail of blood on the ground.

After our delicious dinner the party really started. As soon as it got dark, out came the boom box and the disco lights. I don't know where they got this equipment from but it felt like we were at a blue light disco from the 90's instead of in the remote Pamirs. Our host hit the dance floor showing us some Afghan dance moves. He tried in vain to get us up dancing too, but we were too stuffed full of goat to contemplate movement.

Day seven - Khaakha Fort to Khorog.

Sadly today was our last day on the Pamir trip. We woke to the sound of rain on our tents. It wasn't much of a sight seeing day as it was cold and wet, so we drove directly to Khorog which was relatively short journey.

Khorog is the gateway to the Pamirs, as most tourists start from here and head east, instead of what we did. There is an organisation in town called PECTA, which has a range of resources to help those heading out to the Pamir.

Danier took us to the Pamir Lodge where there were more cyclists than the Tour de France. It is a busy place full of lots of adventurous types. Lots of tents on the lawn and people sleeping on the balcony. It was a bit hectic for Kevin so he decided to stay somewhere a bit quieter, and closer to town and food.

This was the official end of our journey together. It was a sad goodbye, especially to our driver Danier who was fantastic.

Three pieces of advice when going to the toilet

Outdoor squat toilet

A travel blog isn't complete without at least one post on toilet etiquette in your newly- travelled country. In Kyrgyzstan, nine times out of ten you will be using a squat toilet, unless you're in a restaurant catering to foreigners.

The problem with the squat toilet is that aim is soooo essential, and us chicks from the west have just never needed to acquire that skill. Never again will I judge a guy for missing his target. It ain't easy! 

The polite thing is, of course, to clean up if you miss your mark, which brings me to my next point. Never, ever, ever touch the floor or place anything on the floor of a squat toilet. In fact, I wouldn't even touch the walls. Who knows how bad some people aim?

This isn't restricted to number ones only. Some people miss with number twos as well! So when in that cubicle just keep your hands to yourself and away from the walls and floor.

Second piece of advice: that little bin next to the toilet roll (in the unlikely case there is toilet paper) is for your used toilet paper. Don't throw it down the toilet! The number of times I've gone to use the toilet only to find it blocked with toilet paper is aggravating. Putting your toilet paper in a bin is not as disgusting as I'd imagined it was going to be. Most people dispose the dirty side face down. Thank goodness!

Third piece of advice: make sure you always carry toilet paper, for three reasons. First reason: public toilets in Kyrgyzstan are  virtually nonexistent and you never know when you are going to need to ask a taxi or mashrutka driver to pull over so you can utilise the bushes. Second reason: even in restaurants or hotels, there is no guarantee the toilet will be stocked. Fifty per cent of the time there will be no toilet paper. It's like a government conspiracy. Or maybe aliens come and take it when you're not looking. I don't know,  but it's never there when you need it. And the third reason: when there is toilet paper, it's usually of the sandpaper variety.

Notice the toilet paper on the right compared to my purchased roll on the left. When you get the runs (which is frequent in Kyrgyzstan) I know which type I want to be using. It's still not great, but to get western toilet paper you have to buy eight rolls and it's expensive.

There are all types of toilet paper, but the best we've seen so far is the evil bunny roll.

I'm not sure what a rabbit or the numbers 666 have to do with toilet paper but I've stopped trying to make sense of a lot of what I see here. 

Walnut hunting in Arslanbob

This is an under-ripe walnut. The Arslanbob locals make jam out of the juvenile pod before the harvest season in September. But I'm getting ahead of myself....

After two overpriced taxi rides culminating in a ten hour journey from Bishkek, we finally made it to Arslanbob. The road was pretty sketchy, but the views were amazing. Especially alongside the river that runs into the Toktogul Reservoir. It's a beautiful turquoise colour with jaggered mountains popping out of the wide river.

Arslanbob is close to the Uzbek border and the majority of the town residents are Uzbek, and more conservative than the rest of Kyrgyzstan. Many of the men wear a skull cap made from felt, and the women wear headscarfs and long pants and a loose dress. I arrived in town wearing shorts, which caused some stares and yelling from slow moving vehicles such as 'Hello, where you from?' 

There are many homestays in Arslanbob and many with beautiful gardens.

And great food.

The only down side is getting woken up at 4am each morning by the azan, the call to prayer. Having it boom through our tent several times a day gets old pretty quick.

We were keen to organise a hike in the area and at first were looking at heading to the four Kol Mazar or 'holy' mountain lakes. After reading some blogs and talking to some tourists (who were hard to find, due to there being no hostel or central tourist hang-out in town) we realised a guide was a necessity, as the track was not well-travelled or marked.

The holy lakes were an intense four-day walk and a guide cost $40 AUS a day. We looked for other tourists who wanted to do the same walk to cut down on costs, but had no luck in finding potential hiking buddies.

While we were hanging our in the CBT office, in walked an Israeli couple we had previously met on the mashrutka from Kochkor to Bishkek. They were keen to do a three day walk through the walnut forest. 

Arslanbob is home to the largest walnut forest in the world. Walnut forests also have the bonus of being significantly flatter than hikes to certain holy lakes, which require the summiting of mountain passes, so we decided to go with the forest option and explore it with the Israelis. 

Unfortunately, disaster struck that evening when we received a call from CBT at our homestay, advising us that the Israelis were sick (they suspected it was the soft serve ice cream in town - stay away, people!)

The food sickness culprit!

Claire and I were left on our own. We decided to do the walk anyway but cut it down to two days instead of three to reduce costs.

Day One

We met out guide at 9am at CBT and took off on our adventure. As we meandered through town we bumped into the locals.

And headed up until we had a panoramic view of Arslanbob. 

Walnut trees are not the only thing that grow extensively in Arslanbob, but also apples, berries, pistachios and cherry plums. And they are different breeds to what we get in Australia. For example, this tinybapple had large, bright red pips, not the typical small, dark brown ours have.

After walking for two or three hours we stopped for lunch at a beautiful shaded spot with running water and a little shack.

I was expecting the forest to be set into neat rows like our orchards, but it's just like any other forest. Large beautiful trees all over the place in no particular order, all of different shapes and sizes. The roads wind and curve around different sections of land owned by different families.

We weaved our way around the trees before coming to rest for the night by a stream and a flat piece of land. Our guide grew up in Arslanbob and was very knowledgable about all the different fruits and trees. He also kept feeding us food from his picnic blanket, to which we didn't object.

Our guide showing us a juvenile walnut he picked from a tree and cracked open. 

Day Two

Disaster struck again, but this time on home soil. Claire woke up feeling unwell and began vomiting. She assured us that she felt better after packing the tent and so we went on our way. She is a tough cookie, but after about 45 minutes of trekking, her dinner once again made a reappearance. She had broken out in a fever and, despite the heat of the day, rugged herself up in her sleeping bag and passed out by the side of the road, rousing herself occasionally to empty the contents of her stomach.

After two hours, I figured she probably wasn't going to bounce back any time soon, so we organised a car to come and save us. Thank goodness we had a guide and phone reception. Unfortunately, Claire's colour had changed from white to green and so it was straight to bed once we got home. More vomiting and diarrhoea ensued. The next day was much of the same. I took the opportunity to check out the bazaar.

Arslanbob is known for its yoghurt balls and dried fruit leather.

The yoghurt balls were incredibly sour and reminded me of Warhead lollies we ate when we were kids. The fruit leather is like a Uncle Toby's Roll Ups, without all the added sugar.

They also sold the infamous kymys.

It's the white stuff in the coke bottles and is fermented mare's (or cow, or goat) milk. They sell it EVERYWHERE, most commonly in used soft drink bottles. It's on every mashrutka ride in various forms and Claire was unfortunate enough to have a 50 litre jerry can of it explode on her on the ride from Kochkor to Bishkek. The smell was not good! Unfortunately, it instigated a vomiting session from a little girl. Not the best mashrutka ride we've ever been on, but probably the most eventful thus far.

After a stroll through the outdoor market, it was time to visit a chaikhana. Arslanbob doesn't have restaurants as such, just these tea houses dotted around town that sell shazliks, samosas, manty (dumplings) and tea.

On my return to our home stay, Claire was still in a bad way. Our plan was to leave for Osh the following day, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. I'll keep you posted.

Ala-Archa Canyon

Bishkek is fortunate enough to have a world class mountaineering playground only 30kms from its city centre. Ala-Archa National Park contains more than 20 glaciers and over 50 jaggered peaks.

With the number of the correct marshrutka in mind, and our overnight packs decked out with supplies for the next few days, we swung by the Kazakhstan Embassy to collect our visas, before intending to jump on the marshrutka and head for the hills.

We had submitted our applications over two weeks ago and were told our visas would be ready the following Thursday. So it should be ready, right? 

Wrong.

It appears that while we were enjoying ourselves in Karakol, Kazakhstan's visa policy had changed and Australian passport holders no longer need a visa if their stay is less than 15 days. 

Even though we had applied for a 30 day visa, and already paid, the embassy decided to hold off on processing our visa! What the...?!?

I explained to the man behind the counter that we would be in the country for more than 15 days and so would require the 30 day visa for which we had originally applied and paid.

'Okay. It will be ready at 6pm tonight.'

What!?! We had our bags packed and were ready to hit the road for Ala-Archa. We couldn't hang around till 6pm.

I leaned over the counter towards the official and said with determination, 'We were told our visas would be ready last Thursday at 6pm. We are leaving Bishkek today. Can you process them before you close at 12pm?' 

It was 11am already, so I knew it was a big ask. The expressionless man behind the counter told us to wait one moment before going to speak to his colleague. Upon coming back he said, 'Alright, they will be ready at 12pm'. 

I smiled inside. We took our packs and waited outside. I had my doubts whether it would be ready on time and thought maybe he was just trying to placate us. At 11:45am Claire went back to the counter. 'Not ready' was the response as soon as she stepped in the door. 

At 11:55am, I sat in the foyer. I wasn't going to give them the opportunity to lock us out. Then exactly at 12pm I saw the man I spoke to exit through a back door. Noooo!  My hopes were dashed. It was supposed to be one of the easy visas and now we would have to miss out on Ala-Archa while we sat around in Bishkek another day. 

Just as I had lost hope a man came to the counter and said 'Australia?' He had our passports with a newly inserted Kazakh visa. Hooray! We stepped outside with much glee, double checked the visa dates were correct and headed for the 265 marshrutka which stopped virtually outside the embassy.

It was now early afternoom and the temperature was soaring above thirty degrees. The marshrutka ride was hot, cramped and full of oldies who I dont think appreciated us foreigners taking up their marshrutka space. Our packs were blocking the door and one old grandma, as she disembarked, picked up my pack with superhuman strength and threw it away from the door. I would have been pissed off, but I was too impressed by her ability to lift my pack one handed. 

The 265 marshrutka only goes all the way to the park entrance on weekends,  but we managed to convince the driver to take us all the way for 150 som each. Once at the gate, we bumped into an Indian guy who was also heading to the Alplager and managed to bargain a taxi for 300 som for the three of us. It seemed too cheap to me and the taxi driver displayed his dissatisfaction by speeding around the corners at full pelt. It took me a good 15 minutes for my stomach to find itself once I got out of the car. 

The Alplager is a tiny village with a hotel that looks like it belongs in the Swiss Alps...

After admiring the surroundings, which included a few necessary tourist yurts, we pulled out our trekking poles and began our ascent. When the Lonely Planet said it was a strenuous climb it wasn't kidding. Up and up and up. Very steep. At several points the track split and momentarily Claire and I lost one another but eventually met back up. I waited on a rock in the shade to avoid the stinking heat and took photos of the view.

Finally, after three hours of excruciating pain, we made it to a forrested area which had a few flat spots to pitch a tent.

It was just below the base of the waterfall which is half way to Ak-Sai Glacier, so we decided to leave all our gear here and do a day walk to Ratsek hut the following day, hoping no one would steal our stuff.

We woke up early to start our climb in ordsr to avoid the heat. It only took two hours to get to Ratsek hut and the glacier, thanks to not having our 15kg packs. It was steeper today than yesterday, but thankfully a lot of it was in shade due to the rocky outcrops.

Finally, we reached the quaint valley in which Ratsek hut sits. There was a trickling stream with half dozen tents near by.

There were no people around as it was a perfect day for climbing and hiking and most people were off exploring the glacier and summiting Mt Korona. Above the Ratsek hut is a narrow ridge which is accessible via a scree slope. Once on top, the glacier is in full view and looks a little something like this. 

We could hear voices echoing around the rocky crags above us and soon spotted five rock climbers on a precarious-looking piece of rock up very high. We saw another couple walking down from the glacier but besides that it was pretty deserted and not nearly as busy as we were expecting. 

After chilling on the ridge for about an hour...

... we made our way back down the incredibly steep and slippery slope.

Upon our return it was nice to see nothing had been stolen from our tent. In fact, we gained an addition to our campsite.

I'm guessing he's some kind of Kyrgyzstan squirrel?? Bye bye little friend. Back to Bishkek tomorrow for us.