N39°6.8170′ – E67°51.2396′- Dushanbe

11th August 2014       10-34’C      291km (14hrs)
N39°6.8170′ – E67°51.2396′ – Dushanbe

I was awake at 4:30am, just as it was beginning to become light. It was a cool 10’C, but I decided I would pack up camp and get moving early, with the objective of making it back to Dushanbe for lunch.  As it turned out, that plan was thwarted, and I didn’t even make it back for dinner.

I packed and left the camp by the river at 7am, riding down the steep and slippery scree, past the 6 other lakes and back onto the main road.  A quick stop to pump up the tyres back to road pressure and buy some water.  I noticed that the chain gaurd had become loose again and was rubbing on the chain, so I completely removed it by the side of the road.  I’ll find a better solution, probably in Europe!

I was riding back on the M34, in the canyon, when I saw a car parked right across the road in the distance.  I slowed down to find a guy waving his arms wildly, insisting I stop.   I pulled up beside him and he indicated the road was closed ahead, making a “BOOM!” and gesturing like something was going to blow up.  I parked the bike and tried to figure out how long I’d need to wait.  It seemed he was saying four hours, but I was hoping that I’d misunderstood his Russian.

Soon a number of other cars also stopped behind me, and I answered the many questions, where I was from, where I was going, why, etc.
A couple of the other drivers took up my cause, and started arguing with the two guys blocking the road.  They tried to put a case that they should let the motorbike through. The argument got quite heated, with the Chinese foreman and his local offsider yelling back at the crowd that were supporting me.  They didn’t succeed and the crowd eventually all went back to the shade of their cars.   Not having any shade myself, and with the temperature in the gorge now hitting 35’C, I sat on the road in a small shadow of the foreman’s car.   The Tajik driver took pity on me, and offered me the back seat and a warm bottle of Cola, which were both received gratefully.

I’d been sitting around for almost an hour, when an almighty boom went off, and rocks started raining down from the cliff above.  People scattered everywhere, trying to get back into cars or cover their heads from the geological shrapnel.    Ahead, about 200M away cliff was cascading down to block the road entirely.   Now I understood why they insisted I could not proceed, although an hour ago when I was first stopped, I could have already been far away from here.

I was obvious now I was going nowhere for a long time, until the earthmover had cleared the road.  There was no other route back to Dushanbe, so I decided I’d go and find some food and rest for a few hours.   I rode 6km back to a village I’d seen and stopped at a store to buy some water.   Inside, I asked the shopkeeper where there was a restaurant.  His answer was there wasn’t one anywhere nearby.  I thanked him and went out to the bike, strapping down the bottle of water, when he came over and gestured that I should come to his house, eat and rest there.  With nothing else to do, I accepted his offer and moved my bike into his garage, while he closed up the shop!

Inside, he introduced me to his wife, daughter and son, and soon later his father also arrived.  We all sat down together and ate a melon and drank tea & compot, while his wife was busy in the kitchen.  It wasn’t long until a huge plate of plov was placed down in front of me.  It was truly delicious and we chatted in Russian and gestures about my trip, our respective family, work & business.   True genuine hospitality, of the most kind type, and I committed myself to offer such kindness to complete strangers in the future.

We took some more photos together, and said goodbye, and I headed back into the gorge where I hoped the road was cleared. It wasn’t. Now 2pm, it looked like there was at least another 2hrs before it would be safe enough to ride through. I chatted with so many people, who all asked the same questions, how much did the bike cost? What is your job? How much do you earn? It is terribly uncomfortable having these questions posed constantly. Riding such a large and costly bike brings such attention, and just further exacerbates the wealth disparity in this part of the world. I deflected most of these questions, but I still wonder if there is a better way.

As it approached 4pm, it looked like the road might be nearly clear, and cars started jostling towards the front of now huge line of traffic. I quickly geared up and managed to squeeze right to the front and as the backhoe paused, I powered under the backhoe arm and was now on the other side of the rockfall, working against the cars that wanted to go the opposite way. Everyone was impatient after waiting so long, and there were some tight squeezes between cars on the left and the 100M drop to the right.

Finally through I turned the corner to find a large crowd waiting, who let out a huge cheer for me as the first vehicle through.  I gave them all a fist pump in the air in celebratory response, only to see about 500M ahead, there was another accidental rock fall blocking the road. It had been caused by the explosives also.
I parked again, at least now there was some shade.

After another two hours waiting for this blockage to be cleared, I was finally moving again. I’d been waiting from 11am until after 6pm. Almost 8hrs sitting by the side of the road.
I powered on, hoping to make good distance before it became dark.
Crossing the Anzob pass in the dark wasn’t an option, so I was left with having to ride through the crazy ‘Tunnel of Death’ Anzob tunnel.
There is no exaggeration in describing this as the worst riding experience anywhere. I emerged from the other side of the tunnel after 10 minutes of pounding the bike in the dark, unable to see more than a few metres due to the thick pollution, covered in mud. I cursed and vowed never to ride that tunnel again. Ever.

It was now dark and I was forced to break my self imposed rule of not riding at night. The next two hours were solid concentration, peering into unlit corners. I finally reached the hotel in Dushanbe at 9pm, fourteen hours after I’d set out, tired, absolutely filthy and stinking. I was surprised the hotel welcomed me back in this rotten state.

I showered, looking down to find a black sludge on the floor, running down the drain. Pollution and mud coming off me.