Update: Sun 11:30

Friday, 19 August

Yesterday's toilet debarcle was popping the cork and this morning two great floods were released. That's not the state of body you want to be in when heading off into the boonies. However the sheer volume gave me the hope that there wouldn't be any more of that, at least for a while.

I end up setting off quite late as I do some TLC on the bike and repair the tank bag zipper for the umpteenth time.

The road from Khorog to Khalai-khum follows the Afghan border in pretty much the same way as the Vakhan but not quite so charmingly. The communities still perch precariously and the odd Afghan is seen plodding along the cliff-side tracks that quite often you'd expect a goat to look rather nervously at.

There's something about the scale here that I can't quite figure out. The river is so wide, 50-100m, say, and the sides are quite steep, so not adding much and yet everything on the Afghan side is tiny, people, trees, houses. Maybe everything in Afghanistan really is very small and they send their giants out to meet foreign people.

The road isn't great but it's a lazy day taking photos so that's not so much bother. A DE Land Cruiser passes me and the guy waves as I'm packing the camera up. It's odd to see a guy driving a car on his own.

When I eventually catch him up at a police check point, where they're not checking anything, I see another head appear. We criss-cross each other several times over the next few hours.

I've decided to stop at a place called Joged where the LP mentioned a couple of homestays. I've run through the backstreet once looking for the signposted homestay before there either is no homestay or there is a homestay back the way or something when the DE car turns up. They both speak Russian and manage to get even more conflicting information whilst I manage to snap the Y part of the tank bag zipper in half whilst attempting a running repair -- that'll be that then. We finally decide to head back to the big house at the start of the village.

Here there's even more debate before we're invited in during which a motorbike is ridden along one of the goat tracks on the Afghan side. I've seen five motorbikes (small, obviously) on the Afghan side and not one here in TJ.

Not that everything is rosy at the homestay. The DE-RU couple have some food to eat themselves but when the homestay people say they only have potatoes to give to me little do I realise they really only do have potatoes. Supplemented by bread, fruits and chai it turns out to be OK. Plenty of chit-chat with the DE-RU couple heading back to DE after working in KZ for a couple of years.

Oh, there's no toilet. Despite having a big house that looks relatively new, there's no loo. Priorities, we decide. If you've had a fast flowing river over the road to use then why would you rush to build a toilet? A good job I cleared myself out this morning!

Stayed at lat/long: n38 21.002 e70 36.994

A Homestay, Joged

A perfect mobile signal from Beeline-T with whom O2 have no business dealings. It should be noted that Beeline are the biggest advertising mobile phone company in Central Asia so far and even sponsor the entry and departure cards that the TJ immigration people issue. Clearly not appropriate for O2.

The family gather round to find out more when the other couple head off to bed and through some poor English and Russian I think I managed to establish that none of them are particularly happy in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere (the only Ismaili village surrounded by Sunni and Shi'ite villages). The one wants to go and work in Moscow where she'll get twenty times the money as a house cleaner than she does as a teacher(?) here leaving her 12 year old son behind with his grandparents.

The president has a dacha just up the road which explains the very good bit of tarmac here and perhaps the tiny garrison in the middle of town who all waved when I went past the first time and must have been wondering what was going on when I went past the second and third times. He's only been to the dacha once.

Saturday, 20 August

I'm up quite early as there's a fair way to travel on this route and quite surprised that there's eggs on the menu for breakfast. The local wasps gorge themselves on the honey that is produced to the extent they get covered in honey and can't then take off. In one case the one wasp was pressed into the honey and to its death by the others.

I find a way to bungee the tank bag in situ so at least the camera and map are accessible even if it's going to be something of a pain the remove to fill the tank.

After 35km the good tarmac runs out -- presumably enough to get the president to a helipad from his dacha should he every turn up again -- and it's back to bumpy gravel roads again.

Yet more communities clinging to the mountain sides. I pass the DE-RU couple setting up their camera for them to drive past. They capture me riding past instead!

For what is supposed to be an all weather road there is a section where the bridge has been washed out and you are required to drive through the dry river bed. Not in the spring, I imagine.

On the run into Kulyab tarmac magically appears and it becomes an ordinary run into Dushanbe with the temperature rising into the high 30s. It's been a while since I was this hot.

I make an effort to find the Kazakh and Russian embassies. The Russian one in particular is a bit off the map and requires the intervention of some of the dozens of police officers lining the roads, almost every other block. As I have to ride up the driveway to check the building I'm looking at really is the Russian embassy -- which it isn't easy to tell as the sign is in Russian -- a voice boomed out on some PA giving me the impression I shouldn't be there. A guard comes running over and as the voice booms out again he's trying to calm it down whilst explaining there's no parking here. OK, OK.

The LP map is a little inaccurate as regards finding the chosen accommodation and I end up with some boys showing me the way over a footbridge which I decline and run around the road instead. The place is full but I can pitch my tent alongside the four others for $5 per day. There's already a good vibe from some Icelanders taking part in the Mongol Rally so I'm in.

There's an Aussie biker couple who drag me out with a few others (mostly cyclists!) for some nosh over the road. Beer and ice-cream from the local shop on the way back. I'm helping the Icelanders do some repairs by providing some tools they haven't got with them and as we're tinkering with oil filers and looking for fuel filters in the bowels of a Peugeot at midnight we realise that there are three people sleeping in the open behind us in the car/bike parking area. The place has people sleeping everywhere!

I finally check my mails etc. (and see that LFC snuck a cheeky away win against the Gunners) by about 2am. The delightful A has rustled up a Russian tourist voucher/booking confirmation/LOI in only a day. She's far too good to me! All I have to do here is manage to convince the Russians to give me a visa.

The Aussie biker couple have added some facts to the mix. They received a Russian visa in Tashkent in two days only two weeks ago with a 30-day Uzbek visa. They have subsequently been given the run around here in Dushanbe by the Kazakhs. Other people here to get visas have also had problems.

Sometime after I climb into my tent there's the sound of a bicycle outside then some clambouring about and the sound of someone coming over the wall by the gate next to my tent. I'm um'ing and ah'ing about seeing what is up when it becomes clear that the burglar is bringing his bike into the compound. A late arrival.

Stayed at lat/long: n38 36.967 e68 46.706

Adventurer's Inn, Dushanbe