"What is Your From??!!" -- Two Wheel Adventures in the Pamirs

This is a three-part blog post about our cycling trip across the Pamir Mountains in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan in July/August 2018. Part 1 is a trip report; part 2 evaluates and grades the gear we used; and part 3 details the logistics, maps, places we stayed, reviews, and tips for anyone planning a similar ride.
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I want to start by addressing the senseless attack on cyclists that coincided with our trip. The tragedy hit close to home as two of the riders were from DC, and even more so because we met and cooked dinner and breakfast with them just a few days prior to the attack before heading in opposite directions. We shared stories of adventure, laughed, and bonded over mutual complaints of tired legs, overbearing heat, and lack of showers. The subsequent news rocked our world and stopped us in our tracks for a couple days. Our own experience with the people of Tajikistan had been nothing but positive and we tried to make sense of it all. While the shock slowly subsided, the sadness remained but we collectively decided not to give into fear and got back on our bikes. Jay, Lauren, Markus, and Rene, may the tailwind always be on your backs wherever you travel next. 
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Yes we were actually there

"Akuda?!!" "Where are you from?!" "What is your name?!" ...and my personal favorite, "What is your from??!!" Every town, every village, every tiny habitation we passed, a steady stream of young kids, teenagers, and even adults greeted us with these questions. Some face-to-face and some screaming from far away. One thing was constant though, everyone was smiling and welcomed us with open arms.

Take, for example, this bubbly man washing his carpet with his wife and daughter on the side of the road in the Wakhan valley, literally a small river crossing away from Afghanistan. He was overcome with joy and delight as we passed him, insisted that we stop and handed us a bucketful of delicious apricots that he and his family had picked earlier. As Natasha recalls on her instafeed, "we chatted for several minutes in a mix of languages and hand signals (he was a musician and had an uncle who lives in 'Broooooklyyyyn'), and he enthusiastically insisted on taking several selfies with us. Being able to interact with the people that you meet on the way is one of the great joys of traveling by bike, and the people of Tajikistan certainly made us feel very welcome as we wound our way through their country." Indeed!

Our trip started in Dushanbe, the capital city, where we landed after what felt like several days on an airplane. Thankfully our bikes made it safely and were expertly strapped on top of a decrepit taxi, which surprisingly could move, and transported to our hostel where we met up with our friends Jerry and Carolyn. J & C are in the middle of their world tour on bikes and had snaked their way to Tajikistan all the way from London over several months. We took the modern route and flew.

J & C in their element. Yes, that is ALL they are carrying for a year of cycling around the world!

The plan was to ride the Pamir highway together for a month, from Dushanbe to Osh in Kyrgyzstan, climbing over several mountain passes as high as 4655 meters (15,300 feet) in the process. And don't let the term "highway" fool you. Yes, we had a bit of tarmac especially towards the end, but for the most part we were riding on babyhead rocks, deep gravel, and sand!

And yes, it was going to be cold up high and indeed it was, but the story of the first week was the heat. Oh man the heat! My garmin read 125 degrees Fahrenheit (52 Celsius!!) at one point on day 2. So, so uncomfortable. Surprisingly, no one had warned us about the heat. No previous blogs, no trip reports, nothing, nada; weather was a non-factor in our minds coming in. Maybe it was the global heatwave that coincided with our trip but I have never experienced that kind of heat before. Ultimately, it was too overbearing and we resorted to waking up before 5AM and taking extended afternoon breaks to escape the harshest part of the day. Note to others who want to do this route: the weather IS a factor, account for it. Dushanbe isn't that high and the altitude gain is gradual so the first week can be brutal in July. Perhaps consider skipping the first week entirely and hitching a ride to Khorog -- the best riding is after that anyway.

Its gettin hot in here... take off all your clothes -- yeah literally thats what we did!

The heat taking its toll...

...and bringing out the crazy!

Now that the complaining is out of they way, lets talk about the journey. We landed in Dushanbe at 3AM or so and awoke mid-day after a nap to assemble bikes and socialize. The Green House hostel was teeming with cyclists, all with different goals and trajectories and it was great to chat with everyone about their riding plans. We marveled at how much stuff most bicycle tourists carry and the wide range of bikes they ride. Most common is a European tank bike, which weighs upwards of 35 lbs and has the aerodynamic efficiency of a cinderblock, but nonetheless is very popular among bike tourists. My bike in comparison is a conventional road/gravel/adventure bike and relatively flyweight but still comfortable and durable as heck.

And then there is the amount of stuff... oh so much stuff. Most of the people we met were carrying four full panniers front and back, rack bags, handlebar bags, all filled to the brim. I'm so curious what exactly it is that they carry because Natasha and I went fairly lightweight (I didn't even carry panniers, only bikepacking bags) and didn't particularly yearn for anything that we didn't have. We even tried to think of what else we'd need on a year-long trip and couldn't come up with much more. Maybe an extra t-shirt? Even more compelling, J & C are touring an entire year with just two front pannier bags each! Go figure.

Our bike setups. Bikepacking bags allow for better handling and more stable latch points especially on rough terrain. Notice the improvised orange straps on Natasha's rear panniers -- these were necessary to avoid her bags from falling off!

We had a carefully plotted route on ridewithgps with daily mileages and stops, but that was immediately revised as J & C discovered an alternative route through the Zorkul Nature Reserve after the Wakhan valley that we had not previously mapped. This meant we'd be leaving Dushanbe the next day instead of having an extra day to get over jet lag. In hindsight perhaps not the best plan as the jet lag was real and it hit us hard over the next two days.

The highlight of the first evening was a bunch of us cyclists trying desperately to watch the Tour de France stage with dodgy internet and limited cell signal. Eventually we rolled into a local bar and convinced them to stream the livefeed for us, but even that managed to cut off at the crucial last few kilometers of the stage. We then resorted to clustering around a small cellphone screen which miraculously was still streaming.

Le grand depart

With Froome's demise all settled, bright and early the next morning a healthy peloton of 8 (4 of us and 4 new friends) hit the Pamir highway heading East out of Dushanbe towards the mountains. The early miles are really nothing to write home about -- mostly you're on a busy paved road leading out of the city with limited views and screaming traffic. The plan was to ride about 45 miles and it took about four and a half hours of ride time to accomplish that. Some of it was the heat but mostly the pace. Yeah, bike touring is pretty darn slow especially when you've committed to riding with a group. At one point Natasha took off on her own up the road so I followed, but soon we were stopped at a convenience store cooling off with a soda and ice cream.

Setting off from Dushanbe. My pushbike was keeping up just fine

Foreshadowing the snickers

The heat and jet lag started getting to me later in the day as we struggled to find a place to wash off the day's dirt and setup camp. We were still in fairly populated areas so finding a quiet campsite wasn't easy. We were carrying full camping gear so the plan was to try and camp as much as we could to get the full bikepack-on-a-dime experience. Eventually we managed to identify a thin stream where we washed and a cow pasture where we camped. Not too shabby, only if it weren't for the dead cow a few meters away from our tents!

Group dinner prep

One of the main challenges of the entire trip was food and getting adequate calories in. Note, we did not eat the aforementioned dead cow! We'd heard that the food wasn't that great in the region and there were reports of many cyclists getting sick. I'm sorry to say that our experience was similar. Everyone in our group including Natasha and I got pretty badly sick within the first week, basically throttling us for an entire day. Not much you can do when you're running to the loo every few minutes and have zero energy. Thankfully for us we'd splurged that one day on a hotel so had a proper toilet to sit on rather than the usual hole in the ground.

Natasha and I were a bit food adventurous the first few days and tried whatever was available in the local restaurants including various forms of meat, but after our sickness -- which we blame on a chicken lunch -- we became vegetarians for the rest of the trip like most of our fellow riders.

Lunch was pretty unglamorous each day, basically two boiled eggs (boiled the night before), some stale bread, and a cucumber and tomato salad if we could find some at a roadside restaurant. And snickers bars -- lots and lots of snickers bars. These were available pretty much anywhere, even in the remotest villages where there wasn't much else but there were snickers bars!

Here's the good stuff or perhaps the only stuff

Breakfast and dinner were self-prepared on the stove at camp. Breakfast was a bucketful of oatmeal with apricot kernels, almonds, raisins, and sugar -- pretty solid ride food. Dinner was different most nights but including some form of pasta, rice, buckwheat, or ramen, cooked in tomato sauce and/or an assortment of veggies (anything we could find in the shops). I was also carrying a few freeze-dried meals from REI that we cooked occasionally throughout the trip. Much to my amusement and Jerry's chagrin, Natasha anointed herself supreme leader of the freeze-dried and prevented us from eating many (err any!) in the early part of the trip. She argued we'd need them later in the more remote areas. Needless to say I carried two unopened packets back home with us!

The trip was roughly divided into three legs, the first week being the boiling trek from Dushanbe to Khorog, the second through the Wakhan valley all the way to Langar, and the third in the high plateaus beyond Langar and into Kyrgyzstan.

The road surface in the first week was pretty terrible. Natasha and I had gravel bikes and ride off-road a lot so enjoyed the terrain, but most others in our group were not so happy. J & C in particular had standard road bikes with slick tires and caliper brakes, so they were struggling both on the uphills and downhills. I don't blame them though because the gravel really wasn't like anything we'd seen before. Its not like the US where the gravel roads are graded and there is some predictability on what you'll get. Here it was a total mashup of everything -- babyhead rocks for a kilometer followed by deep gravel and then some random stretches of heavy sand sprinkled here and there. Overall it was quite the adventure just navigating our lines.

What didn't help at all was the abject and absolute failure of our tubeless sealant. I will have a somewhat detailed review of the new Finish Line "Forever" sealant in part 2 of this blog, but needless to say it gets an F- for quality. I think if we had put milk in our tires we'd have a higher chance of sealing pinhole punctures as perhaps the lactose would be a better sealing agent than this crap. As you can tell I have some strong feelings about this product -- its been a few weeks since we've been back but it still riles me up to no end how unprepared for the market this product really is and how everyone should run (not walk) away from it... more of my rant in part 2.

Puncture number n+1

The repairs continued well after the bikes were put away for the day

Basically, the sealant failure meant that three of our four tires had to take tubes, and then we managed to get pinch flat after pinch flat on the babyheads. Ultimately we had to resort to throwing in 80+ psi in our tires just to avoid more punctures -- imagine how comfortable that was on this terrain! Plus in the stifling heat, even the glue was having a hard time patching the tube punctures so we were in danger of running out of spares.

This resulted in a mad search for spare tubes that involved me stopping at almost every shop and animating a bicycle tube in hand gestures, much to the amusement of the shop owner. Russian is spoken across the land with little to no English (though this is changing with the new generation as English is now taught in schools), and unfortunately none of us speak a lick of Russian! Nevertheless, improvised sign language and offline google translate worked alright most of the time.

We stopped nearby for lunch, only to be invited inside this building, followed by an improvised musical performance, and a tour of a nearby museum. The hospitality of random strangers was heartwarming.

The highlight of the trek to Khorog is the climb up and over Sagirdasht pass. Its a long grind that took us pretty much all day as we went from about 5,000 feet of altitude in Tavildara to over 10,000 feet, on unpaved gravel and loaded bikes. The views though made up for all the physical exertion. We also felt energized in the second half after a sodium filled lunch of ramen and salty chips cooked in a bus shelter. Unfortunately, I forgot my gloves on the side of the road here only to discover they were missing several miles later. I really didn't feel like descending all the way down and climbing back up so just hoped that one of our friends behind would find and pick them up. Miraculously, three days later as Natasha and I were fixing our 7th flat of the day, our good friends Willem and Beat roll up with Willem waving my gloves in his hands. That made all the pain of the punctures go away instantly!

Sagirdasht Pass

Back on Sagirdasht, we all marveled at the landmine warning signs near the summit and wondered if they were just there to discourage tourists from wandering into the grazing fields. But turns out there are still active landmines buried in the area and one was just recently discovered not that far from where we had stopped. Thankfully, none of us had to run to the loo at the top else there may have been exploding poop everywhere, literally! 

Nah I think I'll hold my pee, thank you very much!

Bus shelters are great lunch spots!

The top of the pass. Yes, another bus shelter. 

The descent from Sagirdasht is no joke. It is incredibly steep and the terrain is pretty loose so you cant' really let go of your brakes that much. We were pretty tired at this point but it still took us a couple of hours to descend all the way down to the town of Kalaikhum, where we thankfully bedded down in a hostel bed. Funny experience here was that the town actually has a fancy hotel and we first walked in there to ask for a room. The receptionist sized me up in my dirty bike kit and politely reminded me that this was a "five star" hotel and maybe a bit expensive for us. After seeing the price sheet and visible luxury status (not!) of the place, I agreed! So we ended up in a hostel nearby which worked out just fine.



The town had several good markets so we stocked up on food supplies here. What the town didn't have was any place that sold sunscreen. In her infinite wisdom, Natasha only brought a small tube of sunscreen for the both of us and it was already nearly empty. We'd eventually end up rationing our limited supply for the next few days till we arrived in Khorog where thankfully a beauty shop did have some, albeit expired but we didn't care!

Kalaikhum is the town where the North and South route out of Dushanbe meet up. This is also where you pick up the Panj river on your right and it stays with you for the next several days. Of note, on the other side of the river is Afghanistan! Over the next week and more, we exchanged numerous hellos across the flowing water, and politely declined a few genuine invitations to wade across where the river was narrow and calm. Mostly though the river was a mad gush of sediment and sand filled water and anyone dropping in there would have an express ride for miles and miles downstream!

On the other side of this river is Afghanistan

Peering into Afghanistan

We passed several large tractor trailers and trucks filled to brim with supplies. We can only guess what they were carrying, perhaps food rations or Chinese goods, who knows? We were also treated to a large Russian military convoy, complete with tanks, armored vehicles, jeeps, and a multitude of very serious-looking soldiers. We were ordered off the road and waited for more than 20 minutes in a ditch while they rolled by, ostensibly heading somewhere important.

I think we go thataway

A few days, two upset stomachs, and several tire punctures later, we rolled into Khorog for a well deserved rest day. The highlight for most cyclists here is an Indian restaurant, the Delhi Darbar. We asked several folks at the  hostel whether they served good food and the answer was that it depends on (a) how long since you've had Indian food; and (b) how much do you miss Indian food. With low expectations going in, we had an underwhelming dinner there two nights in a row but at least some of our riding friends who hadn't eaten Indian since leaving Europe thought it was scrumptious! We also treated ourselves to a vegetarian pizza at the hostel restaurant, but peas and corn on pizza didn't particularly fulfill our Italian dreams. We ate it all anyway!

The Khorog market where we did a huge resupply

Packing it all up!

After a full day off and enjoying some live performances at the local music festival that was happening next door, we set off for the Wakhan valley. Basically there are two routes, either you continue on the Pamir Highway (M41) or you turn off that road and onto the Wakhan valley road that continues to hug the river for the next several hundred kilometers. We'd been warned that the road in the Wakhan was pretty bad and that it would take us several days to get across. And once again as with some of the other beta on this trip, this is completely false. The road is actually pretty well paved for 75% of the way to Langar, the last town before the climb back up to the M41. In fact, the road is in much better shape than the Dushanbe to Khorog leg, where we experienced the worst road conditions of this entire trip. I'll provide more details in part 3 of this blog post and correct some glaring errors in the beta out there for the region.

Jerry making new friends

Our first day in the Wakhan region had an interesting start. We were riding on the road and suddenly two pickup trucks full of masked men and large guns went speeding by. Half an hour later, they passed us again going in the opposite direction. We were a bit freaked out, but appeased by the fact that they were wearing uniforms and actually waved at us. It was only several days later that we found out about the attack on the cyclists and surmised that these were likely army commandos in search of other threats in the area. Surprisingly, no one alerted us about the incident even though we passed several checkpoints on the road.

It took us a while to find a suitable camping spot this evening. Eventually we settled on this little shelter right next to a water source.

Another lunch spot

It was only very near Langar three days later that we took half a day to hike up to the ruins of an old fort that we found out what had happened. And that was by chance as well. None of our phones had any signal in the valley but at the top of the hike, Natasha turned on her phone and it started pinging message after message from concerned friends and family. The first bit of news we got was that some cyclists had died in an accident. Minutes later, we discovered it was a terrorist attack, which completely freaked us out. At this point, I whipped out my Garmin Inreach satellite device, which has functionality to post directly on social media, and posted on Facebook that the four of us were fine. We still had no details of the incident as internet wasn't working for any of us. In shock, we walked all the way back to our homestay and only then did we put the pieces together that the victims were actually Jay, Lauren, and the European duo. We'd met them just a few days earlier at a guesthouse where we all spent the night. This was just devastating news and we all just sat there in silence.

At some point we decided to pedal the 5 kilometers to Langar and reassess our plans for the rest of the journey. Personally, I didn't take the news well and just wanted to stop riding. In fact, it took a good two days for me to even consider getting back on the bike. I guess its different for everyone and the other folks we were riding with were on a year-long trek and didn't consider stopping. Natasha and I, on the other hand, were just riding for a month so the decision dynamics were different. But I'm glad we made the decision to keep going rather than to give into fear.

What Natasha and I did decide, however, was to forego the ride into the Zorkul Reserve along the Afghan border and get a taxi further North. Again, a personal call that we made. Everyone's risk tolerances are different and the two of us just felt more comfortable away from the border. Sadly we had to say goodbye to J & C and our other new friends as they all wanted to ride through the reserve. So early the next morning, we loaded our bikes onto the taxi and climbed up and over Khargush pass and into the high altitude town of Alichur at nearly 4,000 meters (13,000 feet). Here, we geared up our bikes again and started riding on the paved M41 highway. Soon, we came across a few "Yurt Hotel"  and "Yurt Fast Food" signs so we decided to give a Yurtstay a try for the night.

Turns out it was one of the best overnights we had on the trip! Our host family was incredible and made us a delicious dinner of pasta and potatoes along with an endless stream of warm tea. The matriarch of the family, the grandma, also fired up the dung-fueled yurt stove so we would stay warm in the cold night and set out several warm quilts for us. The highlight of the night was a visit from a random feline companion who jumped into our bedding in the middle of the night and started purring loudly. Good thing we both love cats, else it might have become a scene! We quite enjoyed the company and the cat obliged with her slutty purrs all night long.

Inside the yurt

Happy kitty

The thin air at this altitude really does play games with you. I've had problems at altitude before but was confident that our gradual climb over the last couple of weeks would serve as good acclimatization, and it did. I didn't feel any symptoms of altitude sickness, but what I did feel was the lack of oxygen! I have a power meter on my bike for kicks and it was incredibly hard just to push normal endurance pace, let alone tempo or threshold. Going into tempo on some steep stuff felt like anaerobic efforts. After a week+ over 4,000 meters, I'm pretty sure my supply of red blood cells is the highest its ever been!

It be very high

The towns at this altitude are quite depressing. There are so many abandoned buildings from the Soviet times and rarely did we see that many people around. I guess folks mind their own business and carry on with their days, its a tough life at this altitude. Whats also tough here, especially if you're traveling by bike, is the nasty headwind that hits you outside of the town of Murghab. This is yet another point of false beta. We'd heard all kinds of things about having a tailwind in our direction of travel and that riding would be a breeze. And once again, absolutely false. What you get outside of Murghab and pretty much all the way to Osh is a block headwind, steady at 20+ mph, and gusting to well above that! It picks up at around 11AM so the early morning riding is fine, but good luck making forward progress after that. There was plenty of cussing and frustration left on the road, though I feel we're not the only ones in that boat.

Murghab is one of the larger towns in the area, a collection of maybe 50-60 buildings and of course a giant portrait of the president (who btw was featured every few kilometers on our journey through the country). Murghab also features a nice lodge, the Pamir hotel, which offers a decent place to sleep though we'd heard not so great things about their food. So we decided to cook our own meals and they were kind enough to let us use their kitchen. Good decision in hindsight because we later discovered that one of our friends got badly sick after eating dinner there. As did 23 out of 28 riders in a group that we'd met earlier!

The incredibly humble president. His posters are only plastered say every 2-3 kilometers

The road out of Murghab also led to the highest point on our journey, the Ak Baitel pass at 4655 meters (over 15,000 feet). We started out fairly early so we could get over the pass in one day and knew it was going to be a big push. I didn't feel that great in the morning and was in a crummy mood, but after another ramen lunch and some salt and vinegar chips, my energy level picked up and so did my riding. The road up to Ak Baitel is not that hard actually considering the altitude, except the last 3 kilometers. This is basically a 3 kilometer wall. Natasha and I were determined to ride up it rather than walk so we'd take maybe 20 pedal strokes and then stop for a good minute to catch our breaths and then go again at about 10 rpm! We made it 2 kilometers and just couldn't go anymore so got off and pushed up the last K.

Ak Baital!

We were delighted to make it to the top and met a polish group here who was taking part in the Mongul car rally. Their car was having a lot of trouble up the climb and needed to cool down at the top with an auxiliary fan powered through a battery in the passenger footbed. The idea of the Mongul rally is a fun one, you're only allowed cars below a certain power threshold (which is low to begin with) and the terrain is challenging, so nearly every participant we encountered had some issue going on with their car.

Once over the Ak Baitel pass, we made a rapid descent and started looking for an appropriate place to camp. Given the heavy wind, we were hoping to find some protection and found this abandoned building right next to a confluence of several streams and called it home for the night. There was all kinds of nastiness inside the walls but we made do and slept soundly after a nice freeze dried dinner.

Campsite for the night. Out of the wind is all that mattered!

Nice and cozy inside the tent

The next morning saw us fighting the wind some more as we made our way to the town of Karakul at the banks of Lake Karakul. There is a good 30 kilometer stretch leading into town that is fairly flat and wide open on both sides so the wind just blasts you nonstop. We'd literally come to a complete stop if we didn't pedal for 5 seconds, it was that bad. Surprisingly, the wind didn't deter the hoards of mosquitoes near the salty lake and they were delighted to have us come through. Thankfully, we made a rapid exit and found a nice homestay with indoor space so we could escape being bitten to death.

The homestay was very comfortable and even had a "tourist" toilet, which got Natasha in a tizzy as she went all conservationist on them and wondered why every toilet wasn't a tourist toilet. Over the years I've learned to listen when she's on a rant. Just listen. And nod.

What was equally rare in Karakol was an open shop. We walked all over town and couldn't find any place that was open so we could buy food for the next few days. After knocking on several unmarked gates, we finally hit the jackpot and were able to stock up on ramen and... you guessed it, snickers bars!

The views in the early morning the next day were just out of this world. We awoke very early so we could make it over the two border passes before the wind kicked up, and the early riding was stunningly beautiful. We stopped a lot to take pictures, perhaps a bit too much because the wind did start to pick up after the first of two 4300 meter passes. In fact, we turned into what was likely a 35mph headwind climbing uphill to the border. It was so bad that I couldn't even breathe properly because the wind was going straight up my nose! And my frame bag acted like a sail so I had to keep wrestling with the bike just to keep it upright. But the higher we went, the more snow-capped mountains came into view and it ended up being worth the effort.

Early morning in Karakul

Tash had the right idea on how to resist the wind blowing out your nostrils

Marco Polo sheep at the top

After running into another cycling couple just before the border, we got our humor fix for the day at the Tajik border. First, we encountered a customs agent who took forever to write our passport details down in a book. He repeatedly called Natasha by her middle name, which she never uses, and asked about five times if we were married. Next, we had to repeat the whole process five buildings down with a border guard who was fast asleep in his bunk as we rolled in. Clearly, he was unhappy about having to work during his work shift and took lengthy breaks to rub his eyes, yawn, and stare uncomfortably at us before resuming his data entry. I wonder what even happens to these log books, surely they don't get centrally recorded. Most likely they get put away in storage or perhaps they have a bonfire every few months to clear up room for more books.

Once past the border, we entered a 20 kilometer stretch of no-man's land, something that we later discovered is common between Central Asian countries. Unfortunately I had another puncture right as we started descending and poor Natasha had to climb back up to me as she was worried something bad had happened. The views in the valley though were mind blowing. You could see all the high peaks, with Lenin peak above 7,000 meters visible from where we stood. We were in absolute awe as we descended down the road.





Here, we rain into a NZ couple and carried out some economics with them by exchanging Tajik Somoni for Kyrgyz Soms. They alerted us to some nice camping spots not far away and sure enough we found an amazing spot off the road and next to a clear running stream where we pitched our tent and cooked a nice meal. It was surreal sleeping in no-man's land, its as if we were not on planet earth and the scenery certainly contributed to that ambiance.



The next day saw us pass through the Kyrgyzstan border where the guards were completely the opposite of the Tajik guards -- super friendly and congenial. One of them said that in the winter it snows up to 8 meters here, yet they still maintain the border even in those conditions!

The descent into Sary Tash was again quite stunning, with scores and scores of wild horses running around the fields and incredibly lush green landscape. This was quite a contrast to the dry and barren moonscape that we'd seen just on the other side of the border. Natasha, of course, was especially pleased to enter this town and claimed I'd have to do everything she said that evening as the town was named after her. Of course the irony is that's how things run pretty much every evening.

Horses roam free in Kyrgyzstan

La jefa

Here's my final piece of false beta for this trip. Everyone we talked to said that its all downhill from Sary Tash to Osh and that we'll fly down on the other side. Needless to say, we first have to climb two big passes right outside of Sary Tash and while the descent off those passes is spectacular, very soon the road grade eases up and the wind hits you head on. So the downhill aint really a downhill if you have to pedal hard to keep moving. Plus these are mountain ranges. The downhill also has several uphills thrown in, so overall this was a hard day. So much that by the time we got to the town of Gulcha after 100 kilometers, I'd had enough. We hitched a ride in a delivery van that just happened to be heading to Osh and rolled into town a few hours later. This was the endpoint of our riding.

The descent

That evening and all of next day was dedicated to calorie replenishment and boy did we go to town on everything edible that we saw. Both of us had lost considerable weight during the trip so it was no holds barred on the eating front! We did however fail miserably in our attempt to find bike boxes in Osh so decided to try our luck in Bishkek. After a long 13 hour car ride to Bishkek, we did find a proper bike shop there and to our delight they sold proper bike boxes. That was a big relief as the alternative was to tape together milk cartons, something I wasn't too keen on doing!

We found bike boxes!

We played tourist for a day in Bishkek and ate some more, though we most certainly did not try the local specialty pictured below.

I would have quite a bit of trepidation ordering this dish!

Finally, we packed up the bikes and caught our flight back to the US. This was one heck of a trip and its going to take a while to recover from. Its now been over two weeks as I'm writing this and despite some of the adversity, I'd go back and do it again. More realistically, I'm eyeing an entry in next year's silk road mountain race, which this year was starting off from Bishkek as we rolled into town. It sounds like just the type of riding I like to do, only in a race format!

Sit down. Take it all in.