We had followed this river, from it's very beginnings as a tiny trickle at the top of the Khaburabot Pass. We had watched it grow into a raging torrent that had carved out a deep gorge. And at Kalaikhum we saw it join the massive Pyanj river, that marks the border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan.
Looking into Afghanistan
For the next 200km, Afghanistan would be, ever present, just across the Pyanj river. The communities on the Tajik side were pretty poor, but at least they had a road and electricity (sometimes). The villages on the Afghanside looked like something out of the middle ages. They had no road, only a very precipitous looking donkey track, and no electricty.
The Wedding
The Doctor and his son
About 20km on from Kalaikhum were sitting disconsolately under the only shade tree for miles. It was really hot and we hadn't made much progress for all our efforts. Suddenly a car pulled up and this guy jumped out (he turned out to be the local Doctor) and started talking to us in Russian. After alot of effort with our tiny phrase book, we got the message: there was a wedding in the next village and he was inviting us to join the celebrations.
The Bride
Bride and Groom
The Doctor was a great character and obviously much loved by all the villagers. Once he had announced to all and sundry he had invited us to the wedding, we were treated like guests of honour. Seated on a big eating platform, we were plied with large amounts of food and vodka all evening. The singing and dancing carried on into the night under a magnificent canopy if stars. At some point, when we had had rather too much vodka, the Doctor inisited we make a speech (translated by the local teacher) and do an "english" dance for the villagers. We stayed the night in the Doctors house and were really sad to leave in the morning. Friendships are made very quickly in Tajikistan.
Bride and groom at the top table
The bride had a rough deal. She wasn't allowed to lift her veil, so didn't get any of the food or drink.
The Pyanj Valley
As we pedalled down the Pyanj valley we passed through a number of minefields left over form the civil war. The signs were pretty clear, but it was the ones that weren't signed we were worried about. We were very choosey about where we went off road for a pee.
As the Pyanj valley is a major drug smuggling route there were alot of check points and army patrols on this road.
On the road in the Pyanj Valley
Tajik no camping sign
OK! We admit it. We did cheat (just once). After three really hard days in the Pyanj valley we'd had enough. So we hired a minibus to take us to Khorog. We had to wait a bit, drinking tea with the family of the driver, while they put the engine back together. Having finally set off, we ran out of petrol a few kilometers down the road. We emptied the one litre of petrol we were carry for our stove into the tank and this was just enough to get us to the next tanker (they don't have petrol stations, just tankers parked by the side of the road).
Out taxi to Khorog
Taxi driver's family
Khorog was a reasonably sized town, strung out along the banks of the Gunt river. We stayed with a family in an appartment on the 4th floor of a crumbling appartment block. The town had by far the best bazaar we saw in Tajikistan.
We had to register with the foreigners office OVIR here. This involved going to visit an (initially) very fierce looking lady security officer. But while we were waiting for somebody to photocopy our papers she turned on the TV in her office and we all watched a russian soap together.
