A moral flaw and my invincibility
To reach Dushanbe, the capital of Tadjikistan, at Qalai Khumb, the northern route is the most direct and scenic. It is also the one that will come closest to finishing me off.
The army at rest, under the benevolent eye of the president.
After my (literal) crossing of the desert in Uzbekistan, I take a few days off at Dushanbe, a city of almost 800 inhabitants.
Even though I am in the capital and largest city in the country, I am still unable to find material that normally seems so obvious. I searched without success for bungee ropes for two days, before finally resigning myself to buying normal rope at the bazaar.
Moreover, I am always surprised by this omnipresence of bazaars and very small shops, to the detriment of the supermarkets that are so common to us. As in all cities, there should be around ten thousand food "mini-markets" in Dushanbe, all of which sell exactly the same few products. But no bigger grocery store. I can't help but waste time and duplicate employees, and I have in mind that Quebec in the 30s or 40s must look like this. But with fewer soldiers.
Because right now, there seem to be more soldiers in the streets than tulips in May in Ottawa. There are literally hundreds of them parading every night, practicing for the September 9 parade which will celebrate the 25th anniversary of the country's independence from the breakup of the Soviet Union. Crossing an artery and finding myself in the middle of a battalion, I am quickly put back on the sidewalk.
The Pamir route
Because you have to continue to explore the world, I then embark on the mythical road M41. This will lead me to the mountains of Pamir, one of the most remote areas in the world, and on a huge plateau at an altitude of over 4 m in the east of the country. But for now, I'm leaving town and riding quietly.
First stage on the M41: 285 km on the old scenic road, but more than rutted!
A bridge to avoid if you already have chills when crossing to Île d'Orléans.
I am peaceful. Cycling allows you to enjoy both the cities and the countryside. I like the rest and the meetings that cities offer. But each time I take the road again, I am happy to find the serenity and the landscapes of the countryside, in addition to being immersed in even more different cultures due to the remoteness of the centers.
The next day, I meet a Korean cyclist coming down from the mountains. It looks completely destroyed, and tells me the Pamir was harder than anything he has done before, including India and South East Asia. If I weren't invincible, I would worry.
Apparently I'm not invincible
The nice coating of the northern road.
Over the last several countries, I have found that literally every cyclist I meet has eventually found himself ill on the road. Several even had to be hospitalized. The daily physical exertion, combined with the unsanitary conditions of food and water, makes our life a little more complicated.
Having had nothing from the start, I thought I was immune and invincible.
Tajikistan, however, gets the better of my health, and quickly my heart aches and headaches become so unbearable that I have to stretch out by the side of the road. I sleep there for several hours, despite the constant stream of huge freight trucks enveloping me in dust and the sound of horns.
I am woken up by a man claiming to be a doctor. He sits right next to me and yells at me in Russian stories that I understand even less than usual in the state I am in. And it drags on. Finally, he decides to leave, but his car does not start, he asks me to go push him!
I hit the road again. And I stop after two kilometers.
I am far from being top shape. I stay for an hour leaning over the edge of the precipice, my heart in my throat, and so weak that I almost cry. I manage to dilute a sachet of electrolytes in the little water I have left. Completely alone, exhausted, and wondering how I will improve, a new Samaritan stops. And he is more helpful than my doctor.
Seeing my condition, my man leaves his family in his car and comes to bring me bread and watermelon. The melon tastes like heaven and keeps me going long enough to pitch my tent on the edge of the cliff for the night.
Total for the day ... 20 kilometers.
Mechanical breakdown and dinner invitation
After a night at the pace of even bigger trucks and my gagging, I feel a little better the next morning. In any case, enough to repair the surprise that awaits me: a puncture!
The children helping me tidy up my tent.
As I go deeper into the mountains, I face more and more unusual situations. First of all, I get screwed by two young people who run on donkeys and pass me by shouting HELLO! HELLO ! HELLO ! Then, I pass through a herd of horses walking in the opposite direction on the narrow path.
The road is more and more destroyed and it hits hard on the body and the equipment. One of the screws securing my luggage rack breaks in half. Crouching on the side of the path, I try to extract the remaining mognon from the frame when a resident comes to my rescue and invites me to supper.
The invitation soon extends to sleeping indoors in her two-room house. A small kitchen where the women also sleep, and a rectangular room for the men. They all sleep on long cushions on the floor.
As my bacteria have moved to the gut and I can already feel the gurgling sounds in my liquid stomach, I thank my host but tell him I will go for the tent. I then get help from two of her four lovely children to assemble this one.
Other punctures
It is not improving on the inner tube side. I keep getting puncture after puncture, and I'm practically thinking of giving up my bike to go with the donkey that children make me try at a fountain!
The road doesn't help my morale either - it's the worst I've done in my life. It is a third large rocks, a third sand and a third large holes.
Here and there we find shreds of dying asphalt, crumbling memories of the extent of the former greatness of the Soviets who built this path. Drivers try to zigzag from one side of the road to the other in order to cling to these temporary lull surfaces.
Very positive point, however, the higher I go, the more magnificent the view becomes.
A nice setting in context where I climbed the hill three times to go and adjust my tripod!
View of the gorge from my campsite. And I, who thought I had grown up in a rural environment!
The first pass
Satbar and Ziodin. For most people here, a photo is serious business. My young sneers therefore lose all emotion at the time of the official shot.
Un with is the lowest point between two vertices. A bit like the middle of a horse saddle. When a valley ends, you have to go over a pass to continue on the other side of the mountain. I have six passes to do in Tajikistan, and here I am almost at the top of the first one, which rises to just over 3 m.
During the breathtaking climb, I meet Ziodin and his sister Satbar ... who walk to school! I don't think they would be impressed by the stories of your uncle who had to walk to school when he was young.
They do a dozen kilometers every day, under the sun as in the snow, climbing a drop of several hundred meters at an altitude of 3 m, and in non-existent roads.
From one parade to another
On the other side of the pass, I jump down from rock to rock to Qalai Khumb.
My health has recovered, thanks to medication and email advice from my pharmacist, but I'm still spoiling myself with a day off.
The village of 2 inhabitants is literally a prisoner of the rock walls that surround it. And across the tumultuous river is Afghanistan, which I'll follow to the next city. I can hardly believe it: I have a room with a view of Afghanistan.
I take the M41 again on National Day, at the same time as their parade gets under way. And this time, it's not a practice like in Dushanbe, but the real deal. As the village has only one street, and the sidewalks are crowded with spectators, I have no choice but to add myself to the parade if I wish to leave the village.
Walking down the main street with my bicycle, I find myself between the circle of Tajik women farmers and the local judo club. With my head held high, I greet the cameras and the officials.
I can feel it, I'm invincible again.
