Day 179 (Tajikistan): Khermanjo - Shirgovad (Janus-face of roads)

daily distance: 92km
total distance: 10,740km
riding time: 8h

Another one of those days where you curse being on the bike. And then you love it and you can’t make up your mind. But in the end you’re glad you made the trip.

I left the teacher’s house with him at 7:30am and took off on a bad road, followed by a part that was paved. I thought to myself that this is grandiose riding. I still had this smirk on my face (again rather) when I looked across the river and saw Afghanistan and thought to myself that I biked all the way here. Did I want to go over to see what things are like in this part? Sure. Will I go? Hell no!!! Although curious I am, I must admit.

So, after the initial section of asphalt the rest of the next 50km (30 miles) were nothing but … well, what was it? Rocks, stones - something that may have been a road once. But it was bad. No fun to ride. Very rough going and needless to say I didn’t make a whole lot of mileage. But the landscape was grandiose. The Pyanj river cut a valley that is incredibly beautiful, deep and … dangerous. Well, human beings add to the danger quite a bit - needless to say, venturing off the road didn’t seem like a good idea.

I followed the river for a long while … all day and will do so for the next 4 or 5 as a matter of fact. All the while Afghanistan to my right. And the TV station that I saw was great. Burka-clad women on donkeys, traditional clothing, kids playing in the water, mud houses and what I thought was a Westerner with an umbrella shielding him from the sun.

The difference to my side was also stark. Yes, some satellite dishes, but no road - only trails hewn into the rockface with people walking on them and the occasional donkey. And … no powerlines. Plenty on my side (only transmitting power half the year though), none on the other.

During the rocky part of the day I also came through an Iranian construction site - just one example of the considerable influence that Iran has and has had historically. People speak the same language and - again - I get all the Aryan relationship between the Tajiks and the Iranians, and the Germans of course. I keep holding the same line as in Iran. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

Just after the Iranian construction site, things went from bad to worse. The road was unrideable, climbs up to 28%. Good pushing … I was absolutely glad to be out of this mess. I was bounced around like hardly ever before, the temperatures hovered over 40C and I was wasted.

Then the miracle happened at Zigar. The beginning of a super silky smooth 40km stretch of asphalt. Turkish construction. They had done a great job. This was a masterpiece. All the thoughts from earlier in the day were wiped clean, everything was good again. I took breaks and watched the other side of the river, had some apples here and there and just enjoyed what I had. Then I rounded a corner and saw … the road steeply climbing up. This was not what I wanted for the day. I was done. Small climbs OK, but nothing like this. It turned out not to the road I was to take.

I hunkered down in a small village after being invited by a family. Cooked my own food and slept soon enough though.