Journeys across the Pamir Highway: Central Asia
I am writing this diary in Rustam’s house, a new friend who saved me on the way to Kara Balta, about 75 km from the capital Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan.
I’ve been in Kyrgyzstan for nearly two weeks now, having spent more than a week in Bishkek preparing documentation and applying for a visa to enter Tajikistan. I intend to ride from here over the high mountains to Osh, the second largest city in the south, before heading on the Pamir Highway M41 across the border into Tajikistan.
I am sure that few people know about this well-known highway, which is an adventurer’s dream and one of the most beautiful places on the planet, but getting there requires a special authorization, the GBAO permit. The term GBAO refers to the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous area, which is located in Tajikistan’s mountainous region and has borders with Kyrgyzstan, China, Pakistan, and Afghanistan.
The journey will be very challenging and hazardous, as winter has arrived in Central Asia, where temperatures in all the mountainous regions can drop to -20C or, worse, -40C.
I cycled out of Bishkek to a beautiful snowy field, took a break, and took some pictures this evening. I was far from the city, and there might not be any guesthouses to stay in for the cold night, so I decided to set up camp on this white field. Two farmers approached me and chatted pleasantly. They begged me not to sleep on the field because of the extreme cold and the existence of their harvest beneath the snow.
I rode out and grabbed some food to eat along the way. Suddenly, a car drove up to me, and this is where I met a very kind friend, Rustam. He claimed he saw me on the road alone and felt sorry for me, so he offered to drive me to his house to stay for the night. He did not speak English, as do most Kyrgyz people. They spoke both Russian and Kyrgyz. He advised me to take care of this location since Kara Balta, unlike anywhere else in Kyrgyzstan, has a high crime rate. And that’s why he had to assist me in locating a secure location to stay tonight; elsewhere, I’d be in danger.
He drove me to his house, which appeared to be a farm, where he grew plenty of sheep. Rustam showed me around his house, including the living room, kitchen, toilets, and yard, and where I could park my bike overnight under the roof. He said that his wife was unwell and recovering in a hospital in Bishkek, so it was just him and me. We spoke in the storage room, where Rustam used all of the wood to fire the stove so we could stay warm all night.
I awoke early and grinned happily as I looked out the window at Rustam’s house, which was covered in gorgeous white snow. I reminded myself that I shouldn’t say farewell to Rustam now. It was a comfortable environment for me; perhaps the weather outside was too frigid. Rustam was pleased when he heard that I was not going to continue my journey today. He told me that he would take me to photograph the surrounding area and especially take me for a horse ride in the foothills. This was after he had done some work at his house and fed his sheep. Rustam took me to his sister’s house, where they seemed to treat me as a special guest and offered me food multiple times.
Rustam told his sisters about the story of how he met me on the street and learned about my cycling charity for Cambodian children. They admired me very much, but they warned me that it was very dangerous to ride a bike in their country in the winter. The temperature was so low that even the Kyrgyz people were finding it difficult to withstand the cold, so how about a cyclist traveling a long distance? They did, however, wish me luck on my trip and encouraged me to return to see them again.
Being a strong-willed person, I find it challenging to heed the advice of others, and I consistently have faith in my abilities. Despite their warnings and prohibitions, I grinned and assured them I could accomplish it since I had prevailed over many challenges on my earlier journeys.
I always train my mind to overcome fear and maintain peace of mind when confronted with such significant obstacles. I have been overjoyed for the last three days because Rustam introduced me to so many wonderful individuals and kids when we rode horses at the foot of the mountain. Rustam is a hairdresser in this village, and one thing I will never forget is that he cut my hair. I had not had a haircut for many months, so I was thrilled when he cut my hair in the barber shop in his house. We had an enjoyable conversation after his haircut, and we had other clients that night who got their haircuts as well, including some kids and some elders.
My time with Rustam has come to an end, and I have to carry on with my adventure. He was quite thoughtful to get me a pair of cold-weather pants so I can wear them even when it’s freezing outside. Without Rustam, who seems like a divine gift, I would likely be in a difficult situation right now. I left behind many memories when I departed. It appears to be a wonderful day. Because the sun is shining so brightly, the landscape I am traveling through is just a phenomenon. Riding across this breathtaking winter landscape is bringing a smile to my face. What a lovely white planet. I will be regretful if I skip this trip. the weather starts to get colder as the sun sets. One thing that makes me less afraid is that on this highway, there are always passenger cars and trucks driving by, and I think to myself that I can continue. If something happens, I will wave to them to help me. I continued cycling up and down the hill until it got dark. Something that Rustam had warned me about came to mind: this road is rife with wolves and snow leopards, so be sure to have appropriate protection.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first rays of the rising moon brightened the desolate landscape. Despite the biting cold, I stopped my bike to capture the landscape sight. My fingertips were numb from the frigid temperature, and with all the gear, holding the camera was a real challenge. I figured this would be a good spot to spend the night. I heard the howl of wolves howling in the distance as I set up camp at the mountain’s base. It was one of the most horrifying and unforgettable experiences of my life.
I nearly died of frostbite that night when the temperature dropped to about -30C — the first time I’d ever slept in a snow-covered tent. Luckily, I had some protective wear, such as the jacket and pants that Rustam had given me as a gift. I am very fit and resilient, and I was able to hold out until dawn by building a fire using dead trees I collected from the mountainside.
Upon waking up, I found the tent coated in snow and ice, which had frozen all of my belongings, including food, water, and drink. I discovered that my sleeping bags and tent were not made to endure this kind of weather when I found snow covering my devices. One of the things I regretted was not purchasing equipment that could withstand this weather, especially considering the high cost of such items. The first thing I had to do now was to leave camp and get some dead wood nearby. Then, I needed to create a fire and get myself and my stuff warm.
The sun caressed my face, signaling the commencement of our journey. I waved to the cars going up the mountains. This is what I did several times before the cars stopped. I wanted to ask them for water because all of my drinks and water were frozen. I always obtained water by licking the snow that adhered to the tree twigs. My strength was low today, and the weather was very dangerous, so I kept riding my bike up the mountain. It was cold, and the lithium batteries in all of my electronics died. It was painful for me to figure out how to leave these mountains.
Some wolves appeared on the road. They sent me a clear message that I should not hang around in this area. Finally, a taxi drove by here; they assisted me in arriving at a town known as Jalal-Abad. Here, I seemed to have a new life, resurrected from the place where my hopes were lowest, and it was one of the most dangerous journeys I had ever made. It seems like the life story of my cycling expedition, and I am thrilled that I was still able to continue safely. I spent two whole days cycling from the town of Jalal-Abad to Osh, the second-largest city in southern Kyrgyzstan. While traveling to Osh, I witnessed a stunning snow-covered landscape and arrived at a water reservoir. By chance, the sun began to set, casting a soft glow. I smiled and remembered a saying: “Sunsets are proof that endings can be beautiful too.” Our difficult life is the same. If you can overcome life’s obstacles, then life is truly meaningful.
My primary objective in Osh was to apply for an e-visa to enter Tajikistan and obtain a permit to cycle along the Central Asian Silk Road, also known as the Pamir Highway M41. Throughout the days spent on the 600 km journey from Bishkek to Osh, I encountered many wonderful individuals and captured some stunning photographs in Kyrgyzstan. I resided at a hostel named Park Hostel located in the heart of Osh. I contacted Rooftop the World, a travel agency in Tajikistan, via WhatsApp to seek help with acquiring a visa and a GBAO permit. The total expense amounted to $160, comprising $30 for the e-visa, $30 for the GBAO permit, and $100 for the travel agency services. The process took three full days, and they completed the task quickly.
Then, I got my visa and GBAO permit, allowing me to cycle across the border into Tajikistan along the Pamir Highway. For my fundraising cycling mission, which I thoroughly prepared for two months before departure, I intended to cycle the Pamir Highway, the primary destination of my journey following the Indian Himalayas. For a long time, it has been my dream to travel to all these places that I have always wanted to visit. What makes the Pamir Highway special?
The name Pamir Highway M41 resonates strongly in the belly of everyone who embraces adventure. Like the Tibetan plateau and the Altiplano, this is a lonely and hostile area populated by kind people. Its relentless terrain exudes calm spirituality. These are houses of the lonely soul.
The M41 is the second-highest highway in the world, after the nearby Karakorum Highway. Running from Osh via Khorog to Dushanbe, the capital city of Tajikistan, it spans the full Pamir region. From this route, you may gaze toward China, catch a glimpse of Pakistan, and wave to Afghanistan. It is one of the world’s highest-altitude roads, reaching over 4,600 meters at its highest point, the Ak-Baital Pass. The highway traverses the Pamir Mountains, often called the “Roof of the World,” offering breathtaking landscapes of snow-capped peaks, deep valleys, high-altitude plateaus, and turquoise lakes.
The Pamirs are remote, a challenging destination for body, mind, and soul. For those ready to go beyond the surface of travel connected to tourism, a captivating, alive culture will show itself. Originally part of the ancient Silk Road, the Pamir Highway has been a vital trade and travel route for centuries. Today, it attracts adventurers and travelers seeking an off-the-beaten-path journey filled with cultural encounters with the local Tajik, Kyrgyz, and Pamiri people.
I traveled to Sary-Tash, a village and major crossroads in the Alay Valley, 190 km from Osh, after spending 27 days in Kyrgyzstan. There are cafes, a gas station, and a few guesthouses here. It is a significant intersection of Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and China. Its name, which means “Yellow-stone,” is of Turkic origin.
The stamp on my passport shows only three days until my Kyrgyzstan stay expires. This town is 50 km from the Tajikistan border, which I must cycle before expiration. I have a feeling that is difficult to describe, because I am already on the Pamir Highway, and I have achieved my dream, but I am arriving here too late. Winter will certainly pose many obstacles for me. The weather here is freezing, which requires me to be prepared and wear protective clothing. There is a two-lane highway to the Tajikistan border, and I took the wrong road and had to turn back and find the right one. I couldn’t find a place to buy a SIM card; there was no internet, and there was no place to exchange Tajik money in the border area. After 20 km from Sary Tash, I started to feel like I was the only one on the highway. It was just me, my bike, the mountains, the snow, and a few wolves looking down at me from the hills, but maybe I wasn’t their meal; I was just an adventurer who always made friends everywhere.
I sat watching the sunset from the mountain, tears streaming down my face, and whispered to myself, “Maybe this is why I risked my life to come here.”
I don’t know how to describe how I feel right now. It’s dangerous, but I feel joyful and at peace; all these sights will speak for themselves. This landscape will remain etched in my memory for eternity. I was setting up my tent at a place halfway to the border. I was getting ready to go walking and look at the view from the top of the mountain because the beautiful sky would change colors soon. Entering the tent would provide me with a more comfortable temperature, as the wind and cold weather were causing my fingers and toes to become frostbite. I put some ice cubes in the kettle to boil water. If I hadn’t done that, my water and drinks would have frozen, leaving me without any to drink right now. I am a traveler who likes to take pictures of the stars at midnight, and taking pictures of the night scenery here is very difficult because the weather is so cold. At around 10 PM, I went outside the tent and looked at the sky.
Oh my God, there were astonishing stars in the sky. I set up the camera tripod to take this rare picture. While setting up the camera, my body, fingers, and toes were freezing, so I left the camera for a timelapse and ran into the tent. It’s fucking cold, and I don’t know how long my camera will be able to withstand this weather, but I set the camera to record the movement of those stars.
If I didn’t pack and rush to the border early in the morning, my time in Kyrgyzstan was over. It was the only adventure bike trip of my life, filled with many bittersweet moments, struggles, and obstacles. Today, the strong wind made it difficult for me to continue, but I forced myself to overcome it to reach the border check post on time, a feat I achieved with considerable difficulty this evening. I met three border controllers here, and it was a tranquil border. No tourists, Kyrgyzs, or Tajiks, were crossing the border; I was the only one. I showed them my GBAO permit and my passport. The border guard asked me if I had a permit to cross the border. I said yes and showed him my GBAO permit. He explained to me that the GBAO permit is a permit in Tajikistan, but it is not a permit in Kyrgyzstan. They are referring to the law and require me to get another permit before I can cross the border. Another border guard, who seems to be the senior person here, called me into his office and checked my passport and E-visa. He told me that you have another problem: your visa has expired. I informed him that my passport stamp was still valid and that today was my last day in Kyrgyzstan. He explained to me that he does not count the days I have arrived in his country, but he counts the days I have received the visa and the expiration date based on the E-visa. So he assumed that my visa had expired, and the law in Kyrgyzstan is that when your visa expires, you have to contact the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of that country to request an exit visa. I took a deep breath and thought of a solution, but it would take a long time to resolve all these unexpected problems, and it was close to New Year’s Eve, and all government officials would have a long holiday. The border officer gave me the contact numbers of two persons: one, a travel agent who could help me apply for a border crossing permit on the Pamir Highway, and the other, an agent who could help me apply for an exit visa to resolve my expired visa issue.
I left my bike and all my belongings at the border and went back to Sary Tash town to find a police station, resolve my expired visa issue, and contact a travel agent to get a border crossing permit out of Kyrgyzstan. These issues left me stranded here for several days, wasting a lot of time and money, having to pay a $60 police report, a $240 exit visa service fee, and a $15 border crossing permit on the Pamir Highway. I stayed at the Akun Hostel, a guesthouse, where the owner was very friendly. His name was Jalyn, a Muslim family, and he invited me to eat with his family for a New Year’s party.
Their family seems to be very happy. Jalyn has three children, two boys and a girl. I spent some time working in his restaurant, and I was pleased to see my journal work come to fruition. As part of my initiative, I plan to compile the stories I have experienced on my bicycle charity trip into an adventure chronicle book. This is a dream I had before I stopped traveling, and it is why I have to travel to Europe and then to Africa.
Two weeks later, I finally got my exit visa and a permit to leave Kyrgyzstan. I met two foreigners, one from Poland and the other from France, Davis. They were stuck at the border, lacking a cross-border permit like me. Davis warned me it would be frigid on the way to Tajikistan and wanted to share some quality gear and gloves with me. We met briefly, but he seemed like a close friend of mine and helped me exchange some Tajikistan somoni. He was very kind and told me that he would go to Phnom Penh, Cambodia, soon after his trip in Central Asia. The gloves Davis gave me were a special gift in this situation. They would protect me from the cold weather and were much better than the ones I was using. On the way, the wind was blowing hard and brought a sharp edge of cold to my face. By chance, I met Allihan and Kuba, a son and father. They invited me to stay at their house for the night to rest and regain strength for tomorrow’s journey.
This is a very remote area; at first, I wondered why they were living here. After drinking tea and chatting about some things, I learned that they were raising cattle and yaks in the mountainous area. They monitor and control these yaks, allowing them to walk anywhere. And he told me that an adult yak can cost from $1,000 and up. Staying at their house for the night was very warm. The next day, I said goodbye to them and continued on my journey. Today was special because it was the first time I had seen a herd of Marco Polo sheep running in the valley. The sight was truly beautiful, but my conditions were still bad; I had to climb the mountain, and the wind was blowing hard. It was a big obstacle that prevented me from reaching the Tajikistan border on time. On the way, I often saw a container house, but unfortunately, there was no one staying there.
This evening, I looked down from a high place and saw a village at the foot of the mountain. I was thrilled because there must be a restaurant and a guesthouse for me. All my food supplies had frozen into ice cubes, leaving me famished for a full day.
The unexpected thing was that when I got there and tried to shout for people, there was no one living there. It was an abandoned place, and some of the rooms had beds, chairs, and firewood for a fire. It was a ghost village with no people living there, but I decided to stay there because it was a better place than outside, where the cold weather could put me in danger.
That night, I brought snow and ice to boil water in a kettle. Doing this helped me survive for a while because apart from this place, I couldn’t find anything to make a fire. It wasn’t a favorable night; I was scared in this place where there were no people. What I usually do to relieve my fear is listen to music and read a book.
Woke up early and prepared my equipment to climb another mountain called Kyzylart Pass, which is on the border with Tajikistan. The situation remained the same, with the wind blowing my way, creating obstacles that prevented me from reaching the top of the mountain. I had to slowly climb the mountain, fighting the strong wind and the high altitude, but I finally reached the top in the afternoon. My fingers and toes were frostbitten and in constant pain, and my lips were stiff and slurred. However, I was thrilled because I knew that about 5 km down the mountain, I would reach the Tajikistan checkpoint.
I stepped onto Tajikistan’s territory, and there was a burst of laughter as the Tajikistani soldiers greeted me. After they checked my passport and visa, I also checked my GBAO permit. I asked to stay at the border for the night before continuing the next day. The border area is over 4,000 m above sea level, so the weather was very cold. Tonight, I shared my reserve food and whiskey with the Tajikistan soldiers. We all ate these foods happily, and I knew that they were hungry. I noticed the joy on their faces as they received my canned food, coffee, and cocoa. It was a freezing night; having a place to sleep with a firetube is nothing better than this.
We bid farewell, and I cycle to Karakul, a town boasting a sizable natural lake. I share my reserve foods with Tajikistan border guards so I can replenish them in Karakul. I expected an effortless day, and the road conditions were good, but everything was different. The road to Karakul was rough and long, and although the border guards had told me it was close, the actual distance was more than 50 km, requiring me to traverse through a mountainous route with numerous steep hills to climb and descend. Until the evening was dark, I still could not leave all these mountains. My strength was diminishing, I was running low on food and water, I was frequently forced to lie down, and the situation had escalated into a state of emergency. The hope of finding a passenger on this road was a disappointment to me today. Despite the sky turning dark, no one appeared in this snowfield, compelling me to continue cycling forward. The moon shines softly and attractively on some mountains.
It is almost 9 pm; I still can’t stand the sight of the mountain peak. I had some tears, maybe because the scenery was so beautiful, but I whispered that my luck would run out some days. I am almost freezing; taking out my phone to take a picture is very challenging. So, I cannot unpack my belongings and make a campsite; I have to move forward to allow my body to warm up. I continue to pedal until I am halfway down the mountain, only to find a way down from the peak to an altitude of over 3,600 m. I can prepare for the tent and wait for dawn so that my fingers and toes can move again. It is a night that will remain in my memory forever. Finally, I arrive at the village of Karakul, where I can find food and a warm place to stay. I stood by myself to witness the sunset, inhaled deeply, and enjoyed the breathtaking scenery of a glacier-covered natural lake. I said to myself that my life was too risky to travel and compete with all these high mountain ranges in the winter. The way from Karakul to another village called Murghob was the most difficult stage on the Pamir Highway M41 because I had to cross the Ak Baital Pass, the highest point on the highway, with an altitude of 4,600 m and a temperature of -49C. It was an extreme mission, riding a bike alone in the heart of nowhere.
I saw a herd of Marco Polo sheep running in the valley and sometimes crossing my path, a rare sight for adventure travelers. There were also beautiful foxes, but everything was too swift for my camera to capture these moments. The road conditions were steep, and I had to be very careful because the snow on the road had turned into ice in some places, and it was as slippery as skiing. The weather was getting colder; my body was starting to adapt to the environment here, and I realized that I could handle this weather.
Today was a wonderful day because I encountered a group of men who were also driving toward Murghob. They stopped their car and engaged in conversation with me. They warned me that in the mountain ahead, called Ak Baital Pass, which is very high and full of wolves, I might be in danger, so they could help me by loading my bike onto their car and driving to Murghob altogether. I couldn’t express how happy I was, but this was truly a rare blessing. I was incredibly thrilled that a car suddenly appeared in this remote place. We drove forward, and I told them about my cycling mission. They were amazed and admired my journey but wondered why I dared to travel here in the winter. It was really dangerous. They were traders who bought and sold yak meat in the town of Khorog in the Gorno Badakshan Autonomous Province of Tajikistan. They drove me through three villages: Murghob, Alichur, and Jelondi.
We arrived in Khorog in the middle of the night, and I found a homestay. I stayed in Khorog for a week to recuperate and carry out significant tasks associated with my cycling mission to raise funds for Cambodian children. I was ready and able to continue my journey from Khorog, cycling along the border of Tajikistan and Afghanistan, which is divided by the Panj River. The river is formed by the confluence of the Pamir River and the Wakhan River near the village of Qalʿa-ye Panja. The river is 921 kilometers long and has a basin area of 114,000 square kilometers, a considerable part of the Afghanistan–Tajikistan border. The people of Tajikistan are very friendly and have beautiful smiles. They always greet travelers like me. It is a place where I feel very special and always safe. The road conditions are very bad, with cycling up and down steep hills and bumps.
There were groups of Tajik soldiers on the road, but I don’t know why; it could be a protective group from the Taliban on the other side of the Panj River. I know it’s not a good idea to fly a drone here, but I’m a content creator who always wants to capture all these amazing views. I secretly flew a drone to capture the unique scenery along the Panj River and the area in Tajikistan and Afghanistan. I posted several times until a group of Tajik soldiers found out about my activity. They came up to see me on a bicycle, holding a drone remote control and using a radio to communicate in the Russian language. They smiled at me, greeted me, and warned me not to fly a drone in this border area anymore because there might be a Taliban on the Afghan side, and I could get into trouble. So, flying a drone on the Panj River along the border of the two countries is not allowed, but I was able to continue. The Tajik people are very tolerant and always friendly to tourists, so this was a benefit for my trip. Upon my arrival in Rushon town, I found a cozy homestay with an incredibly friendly and kind owner. The place was charming and had lots of plants that made you feel positive just walking into the lobby. I paid $10 for a warm room at Guesthouse Rushon Inn, which included breakfast.
Food and other supplies in Tajikistan are very affordable for a traveler like me. Looking at the condition of my bike, it was in awful shape now, with snow and ice covering many of the mechanical parts, making it difficult to continue. I tried to fix and find a way to fix all of these problems, but the road conditions did not allow me to continue, so there was only one option at the moment: locate a taxi to take me and my bike to the capital, Dushanbe. I arrived in the city at night and stayed at a famous hostel called Green House Hostel, where I met many new friends who were adventurers from Kazakhstan, Hungary, the USA, and Korea. They took the time to listen to my cycling stories and were in awe of this charity mission. Many Tajiks paid me homage when they heard about my journey of overcoming all these obstacles by cycling on the Pamir Highway in the winter. It was a difficult journey for all of them and almost impossible for a cyclist like me, but I finally arrived safely in Dushanbe.
I got a visa to enter Uzbekistan, and my next destination was to cycle to the fascinating historical city of Bukhara, Uzbekistan. My next step was to decide whether to travel to Turkmenistan or Afghanistan.
