Kate Leeming, Author at overland-europe

Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: A Trek to the True Source of the Oxus / Amu Darya

Kate Leeming — Tue, 07 Oct 2025 15:50:28 +0000

15th – 16th August | Chelab Valley: Aqtashtoq to the source of the Chelab Stream (trek) | Distance: 31km | Total Distance: 9001km

The true source of the Oxus/Amu Darya has been a matter of conjecture for at least 200 years; since the Great Game when imperial Britain and Russia competed for control of Central Asia (as detailed in Blog 28).

Created in the late nineteenth century at the conclusion of the Great Game, the Wakhan Corridor served as a buffer between the territories of the British and Russian empires. The two empires agreed that the true source of the Oxus would mark the border between their territories. Several sources of the river were identified – Lake Zorkul (then named Lake Victoria by Lt Wood, 1858), the ice cave at the head of the Wakhjir River (discovered by Lord Curzon, 1893) and Lake Chakmaktin. However, the true source was never located.

In 2007, Bill Colegrave led an expedition in search of the true source of the Oxus and concluded that it was the head of the Chelab, a stream flowing down from the Nicholas Range (Named after Tzar Nicholas II during the Great Game). Unusually the stream bifurcates; the west-flowing branch enters the Little Pamir (or Bozai) River (which 15km later flows into the Wakhjir to become the Wakhan River and then joins the Pamir River to become the Panj River), the east-flowing rivulet ends up in Lake Chakmaktin (out of which flows the Aksu/Murghab/Bartang tributary that enters the Panj River at Rushan). The point at which the Panj River is joined by the Vakhsh River is the beginning of the Oxus/Amu Darya. This means water from the Chelab flows into the two main tributaries of the Oxus. Therefore, the source of the Chelab should be considered the true source of the mighty Oxus River.

Here’s a hand drawn map to better explain the Oxus River system

However, while Bill had identified the Chelab Stream as being the true source, he had only been as far as where it bifurcates and encouraged me and my team – Rupert, Malang and Adrian – to follow the stream and its tributaries to discover the true source of the Oxus.

The plan was to start the trek from Aqtashtoq, a winter settlement belonging to the Kyrgyz clan who live and graze their animals in the region, including the Chelab Valley. It’s only about four kilometres from where I ended the cycle expedition and near to where the Chelab Stream bifurcates. At 4117m elevation, this is the lowest of their settlements where they live out the bitterly cold winters. Being the end of summer, the camp was empty apart from three men who were cutting and stacking slabs of dung, their essential fuel source, in preparation for winter.

Sharing a tea with the Kyrgyz men on a break from preparing dung, the fuel that keeps them warm in winter. They gave us permission to set up our tents there

Amazingly in this remote region, the community has mobile phone reception, I presume due to the new medical centre built by the Aga Khan Foundation which is 4km from Aqtashtoq

The community members from Aqtashtoq are also protectors of the environment

After a stodgy lunch of 2-minute noodles (again) we ventured across the pamir (high plain) to the main summer camp. We needed to buy bread for the trek and it is always good practice to speak to and learn from the people of the land. Between the two settlements there was a rough track that crossed the smaller west stream (after the Chelab bifurcates) and stayed on higher ground – much of the pamir is swampy due to a network of tiny waterways, making the land surface very boggy.

En route we tried to locate the watershed, a higher point in the landscape where no water flows across it. The watershed determines the direction of the water flowing off it – streams on the west side of the watershed flow west, to the Little Pamir River, and streams on the east side flow to the east, draining into Lake Chakmaktin. It is a particularly important landmark relating to the bifurcation of the Chelab – the land feature that forms a barrier to the Chelab Stream and may have caused it to bifurcate. Due to the complexity of the landscape, including the conundrum of rivulets on the Little Pamir, the watershed is particularly difficult to define. We didn’t locate it exactly at the time but by studying satellite maps later, and with the team’s observations, I think I may have worked it out – if so, we were within 150m of driving over it. This needs further investigation before anything is published.

This image was taken at the end of the expedition but it is the best one I have to show the Chelab Stream as it flows to the Little Pamir (plain) and bifurcates. One stream flows to the west (right), the other stream with several channels flows towards Lake Chakmaktin to the east. (You may need to zoom in on this image.)

The summer village on the south side of the pamir, a mix of yurts and adobe buildings, was a hive of activity. Building materials are scarce here and I noticed most of the yurts were partially made from repurposed UNHCR tents.

We were welcomed and had tea with the chief along with several other men from the community. One was a teacher on a four month stint (school is only in the summer months), who spoke reasonable English. Malang asked whether anyone from the local community had ventured up the Chelab Valley to the source of the stream. The chief said that while they use the valley to graze their yaks, sheep and goats, no one had any need or interest in following it to the source – above where the grass grows.

Back at Aqtashtoq, the donkey handler and his two donkeys had arrived. Malang had hired him in Sarhad. From there the donkey entourage immediately began the 80km trek. They started at 2.30am in order to make it in time the next day (40km a day on foot).

The Donkey handler preparing his very healthy-looking donkeys for the trek from Aqtashtoq. Note the mounds of dung being stockpiled for the winter.

Day 145: Day 1 of the Chelab Trek | 15th August | Distance: 10km

We set off at 7am from Aqtashtoq, the donkey man leading the way up the west side of the Chelab. There was a faint track for the first three kilometres leading to the community’s autumn camp. It is important for the Kyrgyz to keep their stock moving to new pastures so not to overgraze any regions. Judging by the lush grass in many places, the animals were not short of food.

Myself, Rupert and Malang on our way with Lake Chakmaktin in the background. (Photo: A. Dmoch)

With my highly qualified team I was confident we would collectively make the correct decisions in the search for the true source of the Oxus/Amu Darya. Rupert has very considerable geomorphological experience and has surveyed rivers including the Nile, Mississippi and the drainage of Kenya’s Lake Turkana. Malang, the first Afghani to climb Afghanistan’s highest peak, has been coming to the Little Pamir for about 20 years, although he had never been up the Chelab Valley, and watched the glaciers’ considerable decline. Adrian has trekked and climbed some of the world’s highest peaks while filmmaking, including just over the border in north Pakistan. I also have a background in geography.

The incredible Chelab Valley – a couple of kilometres from Aqtashtoq

The Autumn Camp, deserted at the time, with ibex horns on the roof and piles of dung in readiness for the colder weather

The closest we got to Marco Polo sheep were these horns at the Autumn Camp. The large bodied sheep with enormous horns disappear into the altitudes above 5000m to graze in summer and so we did not have a chance to spot them roaming in the Pamirs or the Wakhan Corridor. Marco Polo described them in his 13th Century book, The Travels of Marco Polo, and it is almost certain that he travelled to Lake Zorkul and then through the Wakhan Corridor to reach the Wakhjir Pass on his way to China

After the Autumn Camp there were no tracks whatsoever and the route was often very stony

As we continued up the Chelab, the gradient was pretty gentle

After 6.5km we reached the confluence of the two tributaries that form the Chelab Stream. At this point we had to decide which stream to follow; which was the bigger stream. I had measured the length of both streams on Google Earth and, although things can look a bit different on the ground, I had at least ascertained that they were of a similar length and altitude; the west stream being about 300m longer.

Standing near the confluence, it seemed obvious that the west stream was the more significant waterway. It appeared as though the east stream flowed into the bigger west stream.

This is a view of the east stream – the mouth of the stream appeared to spread like a mini-delta with two more prominent streams (pictured), but the surrounding area was still grass-covered.

The west stream is clearly defined with a visibly larger volume/flow (not measured) that, judging by the stony margins on either side, must swell into a far greater torrent during the snow melt

While I had two experts in Rupert and Malang with me, who have serious credentials in understanding how to determine river sources, any layperson could easily see which was the principal stream here. It was an easy decision. We unanimously agreed that the west stream, due to its apparent size and volume, was the one to explore. We followed the Chelab Stream as it veered left and a kilometre later found an idyllic camp spot near the water.

Malang helps Rupert to mount a memento, written by Bill Colegrave and assisted by Rupert, to mark the discovery of the true source of the Oxus. As I was busy on the cycle expedition over the preceding months, I had asked that they take charge of producing something suitable for the occasion. The words are written in English, Tajik and Dari. If it was not appropriate to leave the sturdy framed memento there, we planned to just display it and carry it back with us

We had planned to head for the source on the first day to give us the possibility of exploring the other tributaries the following day, but as a team we were too slow. Rupert was unwell and could not keep even half of our pace. With the waters rising in the afternoon due to the daily glacial melt, and time not on our side, we made the decision to head back to camp and get a very early start the next day. Before doing so, Adrian (filmmaker), who is a very strong trekker and mountain climber, crossed one of the bigger tributaries and did a recce to check what was ahead, at least for the next section of the valley. We especially wanted to know whether there were any major obstacles to negotiate.

Trekking towards a tributary of the west stream that was fed by the huge glacier in the distance.
(Photo: A. Dmoch)

Day 146 (Day 2 of the Chelab Stream trek) | 16th August | Distance – 21km

Rising at 4am, breakfast, as had been the usual fare since Ishkaskim, included tea, bread (bought from the Kyrgyz community), long lasting cream cheese and jam. We decided to break into two teams; Adrian, Malang and I headed straight towards what we believed would be the source of the Chelab. We needed to focus on the filmmaking aspect too, which takes extra time. Feeling much better, Rupert trekked with the donkey team so he could concentrate on monitoring the many streams and glacier geography.

After 1.5km we reached the tributary where we stopped the previous day. The temperature was still below freezing and the grass and rocks were coated with ice. I didn’t realise the rocks were iced over and slipped crossing the stream. No damage done, just wet feet for a while. Thank goodness for Gore-Tex shoes!

The same tributary as it joins the main west stream. In all, there were 28 streams to cross over the 6.5km from our camp. At this point I calculated there was about 5km to go

Malang covered the stony ground with ease. He is carrying the plaques Rupert and Bill made for the occasion of discovering the true source of the Oxus. The glacier up ahead is at the head of the Chelab Stream and our focal point

(Photo: A. Dmoch)

Note the huge mounds of glacial moraine before the glacier, still about 2.5km away. (Photo: A. Dmoch)

Malang and Adrian take a break before we head over the glacial moraine. The going became slower as we clambered over the rocks. We are about two kilometres from the glacier at this point (even though it looks closer)

Inside the last kilometre we reach huge mounds of glacial moraine. This type of of rock formation is known as recessional moraine meaning that as the glacial ice recedes, the rocks tumble from the surrounding mountains. This aspect is looking downstream from the beginning of the Chelab Valley and stream. As we clambered over the rocks, Adrian heard the water flowing through and under them

This is one of the springs that gives birth to the west branch of the Chelab Stream, emerging from the rocks – the pure glacial water filters through and under the mounds

With my damaged knee, made less compliant after 9000km of cycling, I really struggled over the huge boulders. After crossing the third of these enormous mounds (almost an hour later), it all became very real. Water spills out of the glacial lake to form this small lake. The core of the mound we were on was at least partially ice. It is probably a part of the glacier system, and covered by moraine

Water flows out of the glacier lake where the bank of the lake has been breached

The glacier source of the Chelab Stream – a very exciting moment to be finally standing on the edge of the glacier lake, that we believe is the true source of the Oxus River

We took time to absorb the moment. The scene – the lake, the glacier and the surrounding wall of mountains – was mesmerising. Our silence was broken by the regular cracking of the nearby glaciers as they melted. In the warmth of the day, water literally poured off the Chelab Glacier into the lake. Small rivulets carved in the ice channelled the flow of water into waterfalls. It felt very appropriate that we made this discovery in the International Year of Glaciers’ Preservation.

My emotions were very mixed. On one hand, I was very proud of my achievement, from taking an idea that I dreamed up to actually bringing a team to the finish line here at the true source of the Oxus. On the other hand I felt overwhelmed. I could feel this was a powerful place but this is also such a fragile, threatened environment. The small icebergs in the middle of the lake floated silently, precariously – their days numbered. Every year now, the glacier recedes a little more.

I felt aware that I was standing in a moment of time within the long history of the search for the source of the Oxus. I imagined, in the time of Marco Polo (13th Cent.) or the Great Game (19th Cent.), glaciers would have dominated the valley and the source would be in a vastly different place, further downstream. I dread to think of the days when there will be no more glacier left to melt. What will that do to the river and the lives of millions of people who rely on its waters? Eighty percent of the water in this river, and the Syr Darya, comes from glaciers.

It is well established that the source of a river must be a permanent geographical feature, not subject to change daily, weekly or even annually. This lake certainly ticks that box. Rupert later explained that the geomorphology of the lake means it is going to remain a lake even after the glacier has gone, he estimates in 20-30 years (depending on ice depth and climate change in the region). Thereafter, following the disappearance of the glacier, the lake will remain as a stream-fed lake for the foreseeable future, although the volume may be somewhat reduced. In the absence of a major earthquake or equivalent, the lake might be expected to stay for 10,000 years or more. Had there been no significant lake here, once the glacier disappeared there would be no true source of the Chelab and Oxus. This lake is one precious jewel!

The lake is about 150m x 100m. Altitude: 4951m (on the edge of the lake). The crest of the mountainous ridge behind the glacier is a part of the Afghanistan – Tajikistan border.

The lake is 14km from the point where the Chelab Stream bifurcates, and just over 2500km from the dry mouth of the Amu Darya (where it used to enter the Aral Sea).

We were extremely proud to display the memento to mark the discovery of the true source of the Oxus/Amu Darya.

Of course we could not leave the plaque there – it would have been destroyed with the first snowfall of the next season

Rupert made it to the source a little after us. He took water samples from the lake which are currently being analysed to determine how ancient the glacier is, amongst other information. Rupert also collected samples of the different rock types he identified in the region.

To mark the occasion, Rupert read three poems/quotes about the Oxus followed by the last page of Bill Colegrave’s book, Halfway House to Heaven, one of my inspirations too. Lastly, he formerly asked Malang, who had stayed behind to accompany him, if the lake could be named after him. So it is now officially Lake Malang. (The team and Bill are all in agreement with the naming of the Lake Malang.)

When cycling around the Aral Sea I saw firsthand what happens to the environment when it is blatantly abused, and learned how the toxic dust doesn’t only affect the health and wellbeing of the local population, it has spread around the world, as far as Antarctica. This has become an issue that affects us all.

The source of the Oxus is a special place. The alarming disappearance of this glacier, as with glaciers around the world, is a result of climate change; caused by human activities around the world, not by local and regional actions as with the Aral Sea. Whether it is local actions causing global problems or global actions causing local issues, we are all in it together. And together we must work to solve and manage these issues.

The historical and religious significance of both the Oxus (Amu Darya) and the Jaxartes (Syr Darya) rivers dates back to the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad who mentioned four rivers that are found in the paradise. These rivers, the four most important in the Arab world, are called Saihan (Syr Darya/Jaxartes), Jaihan (Amu Darya/Oxus), Euphrates and Nile. He mentions that each of these rivers have water that is pure and sweet to drink from. It is believed that these rivers will never run dry and will always be full of life-giving water for the people who inhabit paradise. This hadith (words from Muhammad) teaches people to strive for a place in paradise by doing good deeds throughout our lives so we can enjoy its blessings forever.

We did drink from the glacial streams of the Oxus/Jaihan/Amu Darya and the Jaxartes/Saihan/Syr Darya but nowhere else along these rivers is there water I would drink. There is the very real threat that these two rivers, with the accelerated melting of the glaciers (due to climate change) in the Tien Shan, Pamirs and Hindu Kush, with the mismanagement of the water resources, and with the compounding need for water by the growing populations, could run dry, or virtually dry. Doing good deeds to strive for a place in paradise has a very literal meaning in the case of the Aral Sea Basin.

Photo: A. Dmoch

We were aware that the 28 streams we needed to cross on the return trek were rising by the hour as the ice melted in the warm afternoon sun and hurried back to camp before it became too difficult, and then back to Aqtashtoq. It took over four hours to drive the 80km back to Sarhad and nine hours to drive the 192km from there to Ishkashim the following day, such is the state of the tracks and roads that I had endured on a bicycle.

Back in Kunduz we briefly crossed paths with Sophie Ibbotson and her colleague Kamila Erkaboyeva who, by total coincidence, were heading out to explore the Chelab Stream in search of the true source of the Oxus! After Rupert and I shared the details of our exciting discovery of the source of the West stream of the Chelab (the true source of the Oxus), they went on, armed with our information and that of Bill Colegrave’s 2007 findings, to explore the East branch. We hope to collaborate to bring greater knowledge and understanding about this very special and remote region at the roof of the world.

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EDUCATION

An education programme in partnership with Exploring by the Seat of Your Pants, with contributions from The Royal Geographical Society and The Duke of Edinburgh’s International Award Australia. We have created a Story Map resource to anchor the programme where presentations and updates will be added as we go.

The post Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: A Trek to the True Source of the Oxus / Amu Darya appeared first on overland-europe.

Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: Cycling to the Roof of the World

Kate Leeming — Wed, 17 Sep 2025 14:20:27 +0000

13th – 14th August | Sarhad-e-Broghil to Lake Chakmaktin (Little Pamir, Afghanistan) | Distance: 89km |Total Distance: 8970km

Up until 2023, Sarhad was the end of the line, the road stopped there. Accessing the eastern half of the Wakhan Corridor, a region known as the Little Pamir, could only be done on foot, usually with donkeys to carry the load. Two years ago, the Taliban built a gravel road connecting Sarhad to the Chinese border at the eastern extremity of the corridor. It is an ambition of the Taliban and China to eventually reopen the border at the Wakhjir Pass – an ancient trade route that Marco Polo is believed to have travelled on his odyssey to China. My plan was to cycle the route, which traces the course of the Wakhan River, as far as Bozai Gumbaz (69km) and then follow smaller tracks across the high plains of the Little Pamir to Lake Chakmaktin, one of the sources of the Oxus/Amu Darya, where I would finish my cycling expedition. This may only be one and a half days worth of riding, but the section deserves its own blog – it is such a big story.

As there are no permanent settlements east of Sarhad, Malang hired a donkey handler with his two donkeys for the trek I planned along the Chelab Stream to search for the true source of the Oxus/Amu Darya at the conclusion of the cycle expedition. The “donkey man” set off before us at 2.30am in order to reach the start point of our trek, about 82km away, in two days time. By comparison, I started pedalling at the leisurely time of 8.30am. Having not had a day off since being in Afghanistan, I was physically tired but mentally I felt fully prepared for the huge challenge ahead.

I set off ahead of the team, cycling through the sparse Sarhad settlement and grassy plains where locals, mostly women and children, were tending to their flocks. On spotting me, children would run towards me, asking for pens and books – but of course I couldn’t help them.

The view of the new road ascending into the mountains above the Wakhan River from the grassy plains near Sarhad.

Having ascended, steeply at some points, to the highest point on the previous photo, I was afforded a spectacular view of the Wakhan River with Sarhad in the distance.

To the east the broad river valley is constricted into a narrow, steep gorge. The torrent flowing into the broad valley drops some of its silty payload.

Due to the steep-sided gorge, the original walking track at this point heads over Daliz Pass (4267m). Engineering the new gravel road that tracks the river has been a huge feat – there is little room for a road wide enough for a vehicle to pass.

Engineers are still working on the road, building drainage culverts, shoring up the crumbly banks, repairing landslides, re-aligning parts of the route. This is a wild place and maintaining the road will be a continuous job. The guy in the red overalls was a truck driver who had stopped for a photo – and blocked my path.

Glacial streams cascaded down the mountains and into the Wakhan River.

Compared to the road between Ishkashim and Sarhad that was built in the 1960s, the new road was generally a better surface with no major water drainage issues, but still incredibly rough due to rockfalls and water damage. Frequented by heavy road building vehicles, it was becoming corrugated and covered with fine bulldust. Building a road through this region required a high level of engineering to negotiate the rugged terrain. There were three passes where the road diverted from the sheer-walled gorge. This was the first climb – Malang called these the “Little Zigzags” implying it was the smaller of the passes. At the base of this descent, he decided we should have an early lunch to give me enough energy to tackle the “Big Zigzags.”

The Big Zigzags,” Marpech Pass (3700m) were indeed a big challenge. I pedalled nearly all of it except for a couple of seriously steep sections. The corners were particularly sharp hairpins with extra steep pinches. At one point I was forced to stop for a truck that took four attempts to turn on a difficult hairpin as he descended and still nearly edged me over the cliff.

The ruins of adobe huts at Langar, once used as rest stops by shepherds moving their flocks and weary travellers of this ancient Silk Road.

This river had entirely washed away a bridge on the new road and the team had to find an alternative – I guess it was the old track. I nearly missed the team who was waiting for me on the other side of the river. The part causeway, part bridge was a nightmare for me to cross because walking on large round stones with hard soled, cleated MTB shoes gives virtually no traction. It was indeed a shocking track – steep, stony and deep bulldust in places. The main road must have been blocked for a while and vehicles had no alternative but to use this diversion.

Malang tried to reassure me that, after the Marpech Pass, the landscape would be flatter. But the meaning of flat to a Wakhi person is very different to what flat means to an Australian! There was no flat road, it was a rollercoaster but mostly it was up.

As I ascended the valley, the landscape however, did become more open – more like the plains of the Little Pamir. The colours of the mountains were exquisite.

Entering the grass-covered highlands, the glaciers were a fraction of what they were a decade ago, according to Malang.

Semi-nomadic Kyrgyz people have different camps for the seasons – higher camps to graze their flocks of sheep, goats and yaks in summer, lower in winter.

Ascending to Dashti Mirza-Murad Pass (3850m), this was almost the last of the climbs before entering the Little Pamir.

We had to find a stream with fresh water, rather than use the Wakhan River water that is full of silt which meant more climbing for my exhausted body…but what a campsite! I was pleased to get this far, only 8km from Bozai Gumbaz, as it meant I could keep to my schedule to reach Lake Chakmaktin, the finish of my cycling expedition. Just 26km to go!

Here is what the day looked like on my Wahoo cycle computer. Nearly 2000 vertical metres over 61km!

The traditional way to travel to the Little Pamir.

300 year old Kyrgyz tombs, one belonging to a leader named Bozai, at Bozai Gumbaz

Presenting to the camera at Bozai Gumbaz

Bozai Gumbaz lies near the confluence of the Wakhjir and Little Pamir or Bozai rivers that join to form the Wakhan River. The road I had been following turns to the south here and along the Wakhjir Valley, gradually ascending over 50km to the Wakhjir Pass at almost 5000m elevation. The pass, that forms the border with China, has been closed since Mao Tse Tung came to power in 1949. Slightly further up the valley is an ice cave with water flowing out of a glacier. The cave was discovered in 1893 by Lord Curzon, at the time the president of the Royal Geographical Society, who gained much publicity for claiming he had discovered the true source of the Oxus. My original plan was to visit the ice cave before finishing my cycling journey at Lake Chakmaktin and therefore visit another source of the Oxus, but the Taliban has closed the region to travellers. I could see construction vehicles heading up the valley, so maybe the road hasn’t been completed. Security is probably another reason why the region is closed to foreigners.

In 1891, near the Bosai Gumbaz tombs, a famous encounter took place between representatives of the three superpowers at the time: Great Britain, Russia and China. It was the height of the Great Game, when the imperial British and Russian empires competed politically for control over Central Asia. British captain and spy, Sir Francis Younghusband, Russian Cossack, Colonel Mikhail Ionov and the British Consul General in Kashgar, Sir George Macartney shared a lavish meal with plenty of vodka, wine and brandy before sparking the so-called Pamir Incident (the Russians expelled Younghusband from what they perceived as their territory), the repercussions of which almost caused a war. Ultimately though, it led to the creation of the Wakhan Corridor as a buffer zone between the two empires, a peaceful outcome that has remained to this day.

It was great to have Rupert with us for this part of the journey in particular. His passion for the “Roof of the World” and knowledge of the history and geography of the Wakhan Corridor, especially the Little Pamir really helped to heighten a sense of the importance of the region as we travelled through it. To finish my journey at Lake Chakmaktin (another source of the Oxus) and the potential addition of a new chapter in the search for the true source of the Oxus/Amu Darya was very exciting – the whole team was excited.

A team photo to celebrate reaching the Little Pamir

It is a complex network of streams and rivers that cross the Little Pamir. Water gushes down the high mountains but spreads out once it hits the flat, grassy plain. Streams regularly flowed across the track, sometimes creating deep pools. Eventually the waters drain into the Little Pamir/Bozai River. In the image above, the entire track was inundated for about 200m.

On the day coming in to Sarhad, I had to cross a stream of mud and unfortunately the silt worked its way into my sandals and destroyed them. For all of the water crossings in the Little Pamir I had to borrow Malang’s enormous sandals, which were at least 4-5 sizes too big. The oversized sandals were better than bare foot (as I had done a few times on this journey) but I struggled to keep the sandals on each foot and nearly lost a sandal in the streams’ strong current more than once.

At the Ajaktash River crossing we came across a Kyrgyz family trying to traverse the braid of fast-flowing streams. The head of the family had two wives, five children and four goats to fit into his car. He was a trader heading to a Kyrgyz settlement near Lake Chakmaktin.

The eldest son and the older wife.

After a sharp climb away from the river I reached a higher plateau. At this point I had already identified that the Chelab Stream was in next valley (to the left). I had studied the landscape for so long on Google Earth that I found the valley easy to recognise.

Looking up the Chelab valley I could just make out where the stream enters the plain and bifurcates. This is the westerly branch of the Chelab that flows into the Little Pamir River, that is then joined by the Wakhjir River at Bozai Gumbaz to become the Wakhan River. The Wakhan River then joins the Pamir River to become the Panj and ultimately, the Oxus/Amu Darya where the Panj is joined by the Vakhsh River. This stream was just shallow enough for me to cycle across it (where it crosses the track) without having to stop and carry my bike.

A few hundred metres further on was the eastern branch of the Chelab that flows into Lake Chakmaktin. There were several small tributaries, but this was the main waterway. The stream was significantly larger than the west-flowing tributary and I was relieved to find a small handmade bridge because the water was mush deeper where the track crossed the stream. The vehicle could not use this bridge and traversed the fast-flowing deep stream.

About two kilometres on from the larger stream crossing was, to my surprise, a medical clinic recently built by the Aga Khan Foundation to service the nomadic Kyrgyz population. Aga Khan is the spiritual leader of the Ismaili community to which Malang and most Wakhi people belong. Just before the hospital, the Taliban had started to build a mosque. On the lake side of the track was another set of Kyrgyz domed tombs. Here I turned off the track, cycled around the tombs and then cross-country towards the lake. I joined up with the support team about 500 metres later and led them towards the lake and the finish of my 9001km cycle expedition.

All sorts of emotions washed over me as I arrived. The stunning location felt spiritual and a fitting end to the journey that had started on the left bank of the Syr Darya in Khujand 149 days earlier, on 24th March.

As has become tradition since the Breaking the Cycle in Africa expedition, I lifted the bike above my head in celebration, trying to smile while resisting the strong head wind. (photo: A Dmoch)

The team – Abdurahmon, Malang, myself, Rupert and Adrian – was ecstatic too! (photo: A Dmoch)

Stunning Lake Chakmaktin!

While the cycle journey had finished, there was still the finale to go – a trek up the Chelab Stream to determine the true source of the Oxus (Amu Darya). Stay tuned for the last blog.

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Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: Into the Wakhan Corridor

Kate Leeming — Fri, 05 Sep 2025 14:08:55 +0000

10th – 12th August | Ishkashim to Sarhad e Broghil (Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan) | Distance: 194km | Total Distance: 8881km

Ishkashim is the gateway to the Wakhan Corridor and the Afghan Pamir. It has a real “frontier town” atmosphere. The bazaar was buzzing. It is the last place with easy road access to the rest of Afghanistan to the west and a regional centre for those who live further east along the Wakhan Corridor. I hoped to have a rest day in Ishkashim to prepare for the remote journey ahead and catch up on sleep and writing. However, as we lost a day because of the time taken to get permits in Faizabad, I could not afford a day off and expect to finish the expedition and return to Tajikistan on time. As a result, getting supplies for the rest of the journey ended up being a mad shopping spree just after we arrived in Ishkashim where it was difficult to get a handle on what we needed and what was available. Normally I would have a considered plan with lists of what we would need. We ended up buying way too much and missed out on some essentials.

Our guide for the second half of our time in Afghanistan was Malang Darya, one of the most experienced in the region, best known for being the first Afghani to climb Afghanistan’s highest peak, Mount Noshaq (7492m), a feat he did without oxygen.

Malang Darya, a proud Wakhi man, at home with a grandson, a nephew and two other family members

The next section of the journey, about 200km from Ishkashim to Sarhad e Broghil, I’d hoped to cover in two long days. Knowing the conditions I would face, although not knowing so much about what it would be like to cycle it, Malang and Azim thought it would take me three days. I was just going to give it my best shot and see how I went.

Day 140 | 10th August | Ishkashim to Khandud – 83km

Leaving the team shopping for gifts in the bazaar, I set off alone from Marco Polo Guesthouse, along the puddled dirt road for about four kilometres and out of Ishkashim. At this point I descended into the spectacular Panj River valley. Only a couple of kilometres away, on the northern side of the river, was the Tajikistan town of Ishkashim. I had stayed there during my journey along Tajikistan’s Wakhan Valley a few weeks earlier, so I found it interesting to view the same valley from the south side of the river; a different standard of roads, different people and a different perspective. I had originally planned to cross at the border at Ishkashim but the Taliban had closed it when they came to power.

The view as I entered the Panj River valley – Afghanistan on the right, Tajikistan on the left!

The road to Khandud had a bit of everything, except asphalt. There were many irrigation channels, pools and streams to cross. Most of the time I could ride through the pools and across the channels although occasionally, when I could not judge the depth of the water, I had to carry my bike across. There were sandy, dusty patches where heavy vehicles had gouged deep tracks. Most of the time, the surface was very stony and the loose stones played havoc under my wheels, especially on the short, steep climbs.

After 21km we arrived at Malang’s village and were invited into his home to meet his family while he collected some gear for the journey ahead.

The design of Malang’s traditional Wakhi home has the stove and bread oven positioned centrally with a chimney vent that also lets in light in the summer months. This central heating design efficiently keeps the house warm in the bitterly cold winter.

One of the uncles at Malang’s place

An ingenious way to boil water; the mirrors concentrate energy from the sun on to the kettle, boiling water efficiently with no fuel cost and no pollution.

Our driver, Abdiraman became the most efficient assistant I’ve ever had, filling my water bottles the moment I stopped, holding my bike, carrying my bags…whatever was needed. I never expected any of this but it felt as though he would have been offended if I didn’t accept his help. He didn’t speak a word of English but nothing was too much trouble for him once he had worked out what to do.

I was often amazed at the strength and endurance of the local children – they work hard are really tough. These three boys ran with me for more than a kilometre as I struggled up the steep, stony pinches.

A stream of black water cascading towards the Panj River. I could hear large boulders being tossed around like marbles, such is the power of the water.

Black streams are formed by the melting of older glaciers. The older the glacier, the more silt and sand it contains. The oldest glaciers that lie beneath the snow and ice that accumulates annually could be a thousand years old. Each spring and summer, the seasonal snow and ice melts first, but when that is all gone, like this year because of the hotter than usual temperatures, the deeper, older glacier ice melts. This is worrying because when the old glacier ice is gone, it is gone forever. Here, the sand is blown in from the river floodplain.

Towards the end of the day, I rode mostly across the Panj floodplain. I passed several trucks because they would always need to slow down for the sand, water channels and swampy patches whereas I could find a quicker way through.

I had cycled pretty well all day but suddenly, in the later afternoon, I ran out of steam – not enough food and rest I think. Malang decided we should stop at Khandud, one of the larger villages in the region that had a guesthouse.

Men at the bazaar in Khandud

Day 141 | 11th August: Khandud to Kipkut – 58km

I again set off alone from Khandud – Adrian and the driver caught me after 23km but Rupert wanted to make the most of the intermittent internet there and requested that Malang wait with him and find a local car to catch us up. This wasn’t ideal because it prevented Malang from being with the team as our guide. Finding a car suitable for the rugged terrain at short notice in the village was difficult. Due to the terrible road conditions, there just aren’t many cars. They didn’t catch us until the end of the day because the car they hired broke down twice.

Travelling alone I had to keep the Wakhan Corridor permits in my top tube bag to show at the checkpoints. Malang is well known in this area and often when I mentioned his name, the Taliban let me through. There were a lot of villages over the first 10km out of Khandud, meaning almost continuous water crossings. Some faster flowing streams required me to carry the bike. This meant I had to stop to remove my shoes and put them back on again once I had crossed the stream – all very time consuming over the course of the day.

The school children were always polite and interested in me and my bike, but never overpowering as kids in some other countries can be. They mostly learn some English at school. Girls only get to go to primary school here – unfortunately – and women are now being prevented from working.

Next came the open floodplains and sand. Here, a part of the road had been washed away by the flooding Panj River and drivers had to struggle through temporary tracks that were deeply rutted. My three inch (7,5 cm) wide tyres were pretty good in these conditions but some of the path was unrideable. I had to push for about 400m.

The problem has occurred because during winter the valley has been receiving extremely strong winds that push the snow up the mountains. The hotter than usual summers are melting the glaciers faster. This all results in more water coming down from the mountains, causing the Panj to flood. It not only erodes the road, but also the grassy plains where the Wakhi graze their animals, reducing the area of fertile grassland they can use. It is a worrying situation for the Wakhi people who depend on the grassy plains for their livelihoods.

After about 30km I reached the confluence of the Pamir and Wakhan rivers – the start of the Panj River. I had cycled along the entire Pamir River (that flows out of Zorkul Lake) a few weeks earlier but when descending Khargush Gorge to Langar, I didn’t have a great view of the confluence. This image shows the road I descended into Langar and the end of the Pamir River. The faster water in the foreground is from the Wakhan River that I followed from this point.

The Wakhan River was also extremely high and parts of the road were flooded. This was the first inundated section that required me to carry my bike and wade through deeper water. I had to go barefoot for this crossing because the vehicle had gone through first, taking my sandals by mistake. Unable to see where I am treading in the murky water, I moved very cautiously so not to cut my feet or trip on the larger stones.

It was generally much tougher cycling beside the Wakhan River because it was a steep-sided narrower valley. The road was a rollercoaster of sharp ascents and descents, and extremely rough due to the stones and water falling/flowing down the slopes.

After 47km I arrived at what is probably the only roadside restaurant in the Wakhan Corridor. I noticed a broken high-tech bicycle on the roof of a vehicle and three more bikes leaned up against the restaurant. Myself and the German/Belgium cyclists were very surprised to see each other. They were just returning from a ride to the Little Pamir. One bike was broken and the cyclist was travelling in the car. We had both heard of a cyclist riding in the region earlier in the season, but that was it – no one else had cycled in the Wakhan Corridor this year, and cycling here is extremely rare, for good reason. Eggs and chips were on the lunch menu, which went down very well with the standard tea (chai).

The next 11 kilometres was an intense session of terribly stony climbs and water crossings. Black water was roaring down the Wakhan River. When I reached Kipkut, near Sargez village, I was fully expecting to ride for another two hours. That would have got me within 25km of Sarhad and allowed me to have almost a whole rest day. However, in Kipkut I was advised to stop because in the late afternoon the water levels are higher due to the daily melting of the glaciers and there were a couple of deeper water crossings ahead. Malang and Rupert had not yet caught the team due to two breakdowns and the vehicle they were travelling in was ill-equipped to cross the deeper water. The guesthouse was in an idyllic location and had extremely friendly hosts but they weren’t very prepared and would need to make some adaptions if they are looking for regular guests. Rupert and Adrian both fell ill, probably from the chicken that I thankfully avoided because it looked suspect.

Day 142 | 12th August: Kipkut to Sarhad e Broghil – 53km

Two kilometres out of Sargez I faced the biggest water trap. The road was completely submerged, requiring me to carry my bike for about 250m. At the deepest point, water came up to my mid-upper thigh. I had to predict where the road was beneath the murky water and stick to the line of it as this is where the water was shallowest and I was less likely to hit big stones. My shoulder was sore and bruised from balancing the bike on it by the time I reached the other side.

It’s not easy to spot me in this image. Around the corner the road was flooded for at least another 100m.

There were many more significant water crossings on this final section into Sarhad and I regularly found myself cycling through water on the inundated road. Another flooded part required me to carry the bike for four long sections. At the same spot, the team rescued a vehicle that was bogged in the quagmire.

Almost immediately after I traversed the first flooded section of the day, the serious climbing began. The gradients of several steep sections reached 15+ percent. The road I followed is on the left hand side of this valley where there was often little room for a road at all. The road here climbs high above the river, then drops sharply to a flatter bend in the river, then rises steeply around the hill in the distance. This was typical of the road I faced. The difficult gradients lasted for about 15km after which there was some relief, but it was still dreadfully rough.

A village below the incredible Baba Tangi mountain (6513m)

Rupert giving small gifts to Wakhi children.

Everywhere I looked, every corner I turned, there would be a picture postcard view to ease the pain of my lactic acid-filled legs. At altitude the body needs longer to recuperate due to there being less oxygen in the air, but I could not afford any more time to rest if I was to reach my destination.

With about 15km to go to reach Sarhad, the valley opened out into a huge pamir (high grassy plain), perfect for the local Wakhi villagers to graze their animals.

Wakhi girls and women always dress beautifully in bright colours, mostly shades of red. In Wakhi culture, women have a much more equal standing than in other cultures in Afghanistan. Women work, interact socially and pray equally with men.

After Malang acquired some flat bread (nan) from a village, lunch included the unleavened bread, cucumber and cream cheese (that keeps for a long time in its packaging). We soon had a large audience of young women and children. Some were particularly hungry so we shared our bread and cream cheese. I gave out some of my expedition postcards and Rupert provided some pencils that were really appreciated.

Sarhad e Broghil had always been the end of the road until 2023. Prior to 2023, the only way to travel further east, into the Little Pamir and Lake Chakmaktin, was on foot often accompanied by donkeys to carry the load. Two years ago a gravel road was built giving easier access to the region, especially for a cyclist. I was going to include the story of my ride along the road in this blog, but that would make this entry too long – it deserves a seperate post…

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THIS IS THE LAST MONTH OF MY CAMPAIGN FOR WATER.ORG. WE HOPE MORE PEOPLE WILL CONTRIBUTE AND GIVE WATER.ORG A BIG BOOST!

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Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: Across Badakhshan (Shir Khan – Ishkashim)

Kate Leeming — Thu, 28 Aug 2025 17:58:00 +0000

5th – 9th August | Dusti (Tajikistan) to Ishkashim (Afghanistan) | Distance: 484km | Total Distance: 8687km

Apologies for the delay in producing the Afghanistan blogs. Many of you will know that I successfully completed the expedition accompanied by my excellent Afghanistan team. However, the two weeks was very intense and the internet, on the rare occasions it was available, did not have the bandwidth needed to post my blogs. I plan to write three blogs about our experiences. Here is the first one…

There is only one land border crossing open between Tajikistan and Afghanistan – Shir Khan. To continue the unbroken line of my journey, Karim drove Adrian, the filmmaker, and I to the town of Dusti, the nearest point to the Afghanistan border crossing that I cycled through on my way to the Pamirs. In the late afternoon I rode the 21km over a dry, hilly landscape from Dusti to the border to save time the next day. I knew the 6th, with the border crossing and a 75km ride to Kunduz, would be a long day.

Day 136 | 6th August – 75km

Karim dropped us back at the border early the following day as we wanted to be one of the first in line, but the Tajikistan side did not open until 9.30am. From where we were dropped, we hired a taxi for Adrian and our luggage while I cycled about a kilometre to passport control, and then had another short ride to customs. The Tajikistan side done, I again pedalled and Adrian took the bags in a car another kilometre or so, across the Panj River bridge and into Afghanistan. There, Azim with whom I had been organising the Afghanistan part of my expedition, was waiting to meet us.

Obtaining a visa at the border is the best way to get into Afghanistan, but it still takes time, patience and diplomacy. Azim was a master at dealing with border officials and getting through the process. The system involved registration, an interview (where the big boss wanted to show us he was a powerful man), customs scans and checks and lots of waiting. The process took about 4 hours. Adrian and I were through by 1.15pm.

It was surreal to be finally cycling in Afghanistan. For decades all we’ve heard about is war, the regressive treatment of women and poverty. I wanted to immerse myself in the real Afghanistan. As the visa officials were so keen to tell us, their country is completely different to the “misinformation” we hear about in Western countries.

Once out of the dusty border village I was into the fertile and vibrant Shir Khan Oasis. I passed through productive fields and small villages for about 10km. We stopped at a busy bazaar to buy a few supplies. Curious locals followed our every move, crowding around my bike as I was preparing to set off. Azim had to clear the way.

The oasis ended abruptly as I suddenly entered sand dune country. Being summer, the desert was totally barren although I noticed, closer to Kunduz, sheep gazing on the dry grasses. Drivers were obviously surprised to see me cycling along the main road and often slowed to my pace to ask “How are you?”, “Where do you come from?” “What is your name?” Sometimes they filmed or photographed me, other times they just stared and followed (alarmingly for me).

One driver, who seemed very polite and friendly, asked similar questions and filmed me using his phone before requesting that I stop, which I didn’t want to do. He eventually gave up and spoke to Azim in the support vehicle that was following a fair way behind. It turns out he was something to do with the Taliban and warned my team that I should be totally covered on my legs (I had a small amount of my lower legs showing because my below-the-knee cycling baggies didn’t reach that far and I only had short socks. He then warned them not to leave me cycling alone because there were still many people with guns. He also thought I shouldn’t cycle between Kunduz and Faizabad because it was dangerous; there had been much fighting in the region during the war, there was a lot of poverty and uneducated people with guns. I think it worried Azim a bit. I just pulled my socks up and continued to Kunduz. There was no way of telling whether the guy was a serious informant, or whether he was just warning us of what could happen.

A good quality road slices through the barren landscape between Shir Khan and Kunduz.

Adrian (filmmaker) enjoying the open expanses and the way to Kunduz.

I hoped to get to Kunduz before 5pm because we were meant to have our visas stamped there on the same day of issue. Cycling through the centre of Kunduz was chaotic! There were tuk-tuks everywhere along with cars and trucks appearing from all directions. I had to go with the flow and keep alert. In situations like this I am faster than our support vehicle because I can squeeze through small spaces. We made it just in time to the Ministry of the Interior but they said to come back the following day.

My team was also joined by Rupert McCowan, CEO of the Royal Geographical Society in Hong Kong and, amongst many of his qualifications and interests, he is an expert on glaciers and determining river sources. Rupert had difficulties obtaining his Tajikistan visa in time. He had arrived in Dushanbe that morning with the intention of catching us up at the border but finally caught us in the evening at our hotel in Kunduz. It was great to be united and ready to move on.

The team’s first dinner together in Kunduz. To the right of me – Rupert, Azim (guide), Adrian and Abdiraman (driver)

The streets of Kunduz had real energy. Everyone comes out at night because the days are usually so hot – it was 39C on my ride from the border to Kunduz. Barbecuing shashlik on the street for this guy, managing the smoke and heat, was a real performance. With all the building and activities happening in Kunduz, it was evident the economy was on the up.

At dinner Azim explained that I wouldn’t be able to cycle to Faizabad because we had to get there the next day to collect our permits for the Wakhan Corridor, Faizabad being the capital of the Badakhshan Region where we were. I was very disappointed because an important reason for completing this section was to maintain a connected line throughout my journey. Azim also started citing the safety issues, but I felt that was more to put me off rather than there being a serious threat.

Days 137,- 139 | 7th – 9th August | Kunduz to Ishkashim – 252km (+136km from Keshim to Kunduz completed on 18th/19th August)

I reluctantly sat in the vehicle for the drive to Faizabad (about 240km away). We reached a town called Keshim for lunch, having progressed slower than expected. At the restaurant, out of the blue, Azim suggested I start cycling from Keshim – we weren’t going to reach Faizabad in time that day to get our permits and the following day was a Friday when the offices would be closed.

A large crowd of boys and men gathered around me as I got ready. I prepared quickly and set off from Keshim at 2pm with the small trail of young cyclists following through the town on their bikes. The road was excellent quality, with more downhill than uphill. I made it all the way to Faizabad, 102km doing the last hour in the dark. For the 136km I missed cycling, from Kunduz to Keshim, we agreed that if I had time after finishing the expedition in the Wakhan Corridor, I could attempt the distance on the way back to Kunduz. This is effectively what happened and the next four images are from that journey. (I am just including it here rather than at the end of the journey as this is where it should fit in the story.)

Typical scenes of the landscape between Talokhan and Kunduz

Inquisitive boys while I was on a break

This wrecked Soviet tank near Keshim is a reminder that the whole region, particularly between Kunduz and Faizabad, has seen heavy fighting during preceding decades. The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan was from 1979 – 1989.

As I prepared my bike to set off from Keshim, about 40-50 boys and men gathered around me – curious, enthusiastic but well-behaved. It’s not often they get to see a woman on a bicycle – twice because I set off there on my way to Faizabad and again at the end of the journey when I rode the 136km I had missed the first time around (to get our permits).

The road between Keshim and Faizabad

Offices in Faizabad are always closed on Fridays so we had to come up with a plan to not waste a day waiting to apply for our permits. My schedule was very tight – I could not afford to lose another day or I may not get to finish the expedition. We decided I should cycle out of Faizabad as far as I could, mark the spot, and then drive back to the city to get our permits early the next morning.

Once we had our permits, we drove to the point I reached the previous day, 85km (2.5 hours drive) from Faizabad. I then cycled the final 65km, over a 3000m pass to Ishkashim. It may sound a little complicated, but it was the only way I had a chance of keeping to the schedule and completing the distance I had planned.

I didn’t get to see or speak to many women, so when this mother and her family offered slices of honey dew melon as they drove beside me, I stopped to receive her family’s hospitality.

A farmer walks his sheep and goats along the main road, near to where I ended my day’s ride, 85km from Faizabad.

In Faizabad, hotels leave plastic bottles out for others to collect and sell or reuse.

Following the Kokcha River valley; Day 2 of the ride between Faizabad and Ishkashim. The Kokcha River is another tributary of the Amu Darya. It rises in the Hindu Kush, flows through Faizabad and continues north to empty into the Panj River that, not far west of the confluence, becomes the Amu Darya/Oxus.

Hay cutting season, Kokcha valley

These people provided flat bread (nan) and apricots as there were no villages in the vicinity big enough to have a restaurant for lunch. It was enough to get me over 3000m elevation and down to Ishkashim.

From the town of Baharak (42km from Faizabad) to Ishkashim, there were many terrible sections of road – extremely rough, stony, dusty and sometimes muddy. Most of the time it was because the road is being prepared to be asphalted or a bridge was under construction, but whatever the reason, about 40-50 percent of the road was a mess.

A bridge destroyed – unsure of the circumstances. There were several bridges that were part-built by the World Bank who pulled out of Afghanistan when the Taliban took control.

When the USA-NATO mission pulled out of Afghanistan, they left behind tens of thousands of Jeeps and other military vehicles. This was very convenient for the Taliban who now use the vehicles everywhere. The Taliban are very keen to be accepted as a legitimate government worldwide. At just about every checkpoint they would ask what I thought of the Taliban. Trick question! Of course I told them what they wanted to hear – that they had been very friendly towards myself and the team. This was true – they were very friendly. Several times they asked if I wanted to have tea with them.

A grassy plain (pamir) high in the Kokcha valley

Incredible colours in the mountains in Badakhshan. Amazing to think that this water is a tributary of the Oxus/Amu Darya, arising in the Hindu Kush to empty into the Panj River.

Finally, some downhill – a 500m drop to Ishkashim (2500m)

In Ishkashim we had just enough time to shop for our supplies at the bazaar. It was perhaps the most chaotic supplies shop I have ever done because no one had made any lists – no time for that – and we hadn’t determined exactly how much we needed. Somehow it all came together, however we bought too many supplies.

Buying supplies in Ishkashim bazaar that needed to last for the rest of the journey.

FOLLOW THE JOURNEY

Thanks to ZeroeSixZero, you can open this link on your phone and select “add to home screen” and the map will become and app. You can then keep updated in real time.

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The post Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: Across Badakhshan (Shir Khan – Ishkashim) appeared first on overland-europe.

Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: The Fergana Valley

Kate Leeming — Wed, 06 Aug 2025 13:13:17 +0000

30th July – 2nd August | Ken Sai Border Post (Uzbekistan) to Khujand (Tajikistan) | Distance: 402km | Total Distance: 8203km

Surrounded by high mountains (such as those I just crossed in Kyrgyzstan), the Fergana Valley is an extremely fertile, densely populated enclave divided between Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.

Silk Road travellers from east and west converged in the Fergana Valley to trade locally made goods and access its rich array of natural resources. Today, as throughout its history, the 300km x 140km region is home to a diverse blend of ethnic groups.

It is the great rivers – the Naryn River and the Kara Darya, which converge to form the Syr Darya in the Fergana Valley – that are responsible for the region’s fertility. The rich soil is due to silt that has washed down from the mountains over time, and the abundant water sources used for irrigation.

In Soviet times, the production of thirsty crops such as cotton, rice and different fruit was ramped up adding unsustainable pressure on water resources. With the break up of the Soviet Union, national boundaries were drawn along ethnic lines, but these borders were particularly difficult to define in the Fergana Valley. As a result, conflicts over who owns and manages the resources have bubbled up at times – thankfully it is a peaceful place at the moment. The discovery of oil added fuel to the fire.

Days 128, 129; Ken Sai border via Namagan to Margilan – 45km, 118km

I followed the course of the Naryn River across the Ken Sai border post into Uzbekistan where we were met by Ilhom, who has been a guide for the team twice before on the journey, and Djamshid, the driver. Starting pedalling at approximately 5pm, I needed to put a couple of hours of solid cycling in to reduce the distance I had to cover the next day to be able to reach Margilan. I mostly followed the south bank of the Naryn River – the river actually being the borderline in places – and then in between the Naryn and Kara Darya, the Syr Darya’s second biggest tributary. The land was constant villages and green fields of cotton, wheat and many fruit and vegetables. This region doesn’t usually see travellers and tourists and so when we went to find a place to stay, there were no options. We marked the point where I stopped cycling and ventured into Namagan, Uzbekistan’s second largest city, to find accommodation.

I returned to the point where I stopped cycling and continued my journey. About 10km along is the confluence of the Naryn River and the Kara Darya – the point where the Syr Darya begins.

The confluence of the Naryn and Kara Darya – where the Syr Darya begins. Note the more distant, clearer water that is also producing a much stronger current is the bigger Naryn River. The nearer, darker coloured water is from the Kara Darya, or “Black River”. While we were taking in the view, a couple of motorboats carrying groups of women sped down the Kara Darya and did several circuits at the confluence of the two rivers. They were having a great time!

We continued along the north bank of the Syr Darya to the ancient ruins of Aksikent. According to historical data, the city emerged in the 3rd-2nd centuries BCE, around the time of Alexander the Great. It was the capital of the Fergana Valley in the 9th and 10th centuries. Aksikent was destroyed by the Mongols in 1219 and New Aksikent was built 5km-7km west of the former site, between the 14th and 17th centuries. Djamshid led us a back way to the site along a track that was blanketed with bulldust. His car, myself and the bike were subsequently covered in the fine dust. Aksikent is currently a building site. Some of the most important excavations are covered and a new development is under construction to both preserve the ruins and make it an accessible historical park for visitors. We found our way through the back door – a builder let us in – otherwise the site was closed).

Aksikent – At the floor of these excavations is a water channel showing how water was drained from the settlement.

A ceramic container pieced together and held with staples

A few random artefacts lying around – I believe most are being stored for safe keeping until the new museum development is ready for visitors.

Next on the agenda was to try to locate the site of the Mingbulak Oil Spill, the fifth largest oil spill in history and the worst ever oil spill on land when 88 million gallons of oil were released from Well #5 over a two month period. It occurred just after the break up of the Soviet Union in 1992. Dykes were hurriedly built to contain the spread of oil over the surrounding fields however oil did enter the Syr Darya. A fire burned for two months until the oil stopped flowing by itself.

I was interested to find the spot and see any evidence of the spill and its effects. I had not been able to find any details of the exact location on the internet so the team asked locals in a villlage near to where some current exploration is happening. At first, no one was able to give us any information – I wondered whether there was a reluctance to disclose any information. It was just over 30 years ago, so some people should remember. Eventually we managed to get some details and found the site, not very far from the route to Margilan.

There was no oil extraction happening – the security guard at the entrance said they were currently exploring for more oil. He could not allow us to enter the site without the permission from his boss and was unfortunately unable to let us on the site. He pointed to where the accident occurred but said there was nothing to see now. It was amazing top think that where we were standing would have been under the oil slick. However, the area that we could see had been cleaned up long ago.

As close as we could get – the two tanks that mark the spot (below) are at the back of the site.

The site of Well #5, where the accident occurred.

From the Mingbulak site I had to step on the gas myself as I still had 70km to get to Margilan where we planned to stay – I just made it, manoeuvring through busy traffic at last light (7.45pm). Margilan, an historic city of 150,000 people is a religiously conservative city, most famous as the centre of silk production in the Fergana Valley.

Days 130, 131: Margilan to Kokand, Kokand to Beshariq – 78km, 33km

I had diverted there to visit Yodgorlik Silk Factory to see how silk is produced – an important inclusion in the story considering I am featuring the heart of the Silk Roads.

It all starts with a specific type of mulberry tree – silk worms will only eat a certain type of mulberry leaf. Silk worm cocoons which resemble an elongated cotton ball, are harvested and then boiled to soften the silk thread.

The woman on the right, is “catching” the ends of the silk thread and feeding it to the lady who is working the wheel. The threads are twisted together to make a very strong yarn that is used in making carpets and other materials – pure silk and blends.

These two women have been working together on this job for 36 years. The problem is that none of the younger generation want to do the job.

The next phase involved preparing and dyeing the silk threads.

Making silk materials by hand is a laborious, time-consuming job. Each woman can produce about 7 metres a day by hand.

At Yodgorlik they also use machines to make silk and cotton products. The machines can be run more time-effectively, making cheaper products in larger quantities.

After our tour of the silk factory, I set off for Kokand, about 80km away, pedalling across fertile plains and near to an industrial zone. Kokand has been a crossroads for two different Silk Road routes, and one of the most important culturally and economically. Kokand was the seat of a powerful Khanate, one of three in Central Asia, the others being the khanates of Khiva and Bukhara (the most powerful kingdom).

We visited the impressive Palace of Khudayar Khan, the last Khan of the Khanate of Kokland before Imperial Russia conquered the Khanate. Most of the palace’s 119 rooms, including the harem, were destroyed by the Soviets – just 19 rooms remain.

Anna filming at the entrance to the palace. Pomegranate trees grow in the central courtyard behind this door.

The last Khan of Kokand

While I was able to see a few sites in Kokand on a half-day off, I needed to cycle a short distance towards the Tajikistan border to make reaching Khujand the next day possible – it was just 33km, but into a nagging headwind, I had to work much harder than I wanted to.

In Beshariq, Anna helps a very bright young boy who approached us, wanting to show us how he could do wheelies. He learned English at school and spoke really well for someone who doesn’t get to practice it.

Day 132: Beshariq to Khujand – 109km

We crossed back into Tajikistan where Karim was waiting for us, to support the final section of the journey. Getting to Khujand didn’t come easy – I had to push into a strong headwind for 90km, on poor quality roads with busy traffic. It was mostly gentle rolling hills, dry mountains in the distance of both sides and crops of fruit trees, wheat, cotton, maize and sunflowers.

A large reservoir, often called the Tajik Sea beside my (windy) route to Khujand.

Finally, I rounded the reservoir and changed direction, heading north towards Khujand. The last 20km was completed in quicker time, on new roads with a steady flow of traffic. I reached the banks of the Syr Darya, at the point where I started cycling on 24th March, at sunset. It was perfect! It felt incredibly satisfying to have completed the full circuit, following the Naryn River/Syr Darya from its source to the Aral Sea, around the Aral Sea, and back along the Amu Darya and its main tributaries to one of the sources in the Pamirs. We celebrated with a nice meal in an excellent restaurant in the old part of Khujand.

My bike after 8203km, on completion of the Aral Sea Basin circuit

Pleased to complete the Central Asian journey – now, just over 800km to do through Afghanistan to finish the expedition.

All that is left to do is final the two-week phase through Afghanistan to finish the journey at the true source of the Amu Darya (Oxus River).

Karim drove us back to Dushanbe. Anna left for Switzerland last night after crossing paths with Adrian Dmoch, who will film the Afghanistan stage. Tomorrow (5th August) we will be driven down to the village of Dusti, 23km from the Shir Khan border crossing. It’s the nearest point that I reached on my way through to the Pamirs. I will cycle the 23km to the border to connect the line of my journey, and then on 6th we will cross into Afghanistan where we will be met by Azim, our guide for the first part of the journey.

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Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: There’s always a way through/around

Kate Leeming — Mon, 04 Aug 2025 13:15:10 +0000

22nd – 29th July | Naryn to the Ken Sai Border Post (Kyrgyzstan/Uzbekistan) | Distance: 525km | Total Distance: 7801km

Day 121: Naryn to Camp (Ak-Tal + 17km) – 127km

We had been enjoying some cooler temperatures in the altitude of the Tien Shan, but leaving Naryn, at around 2000m altitude, it had warmed to 34C. I enjoyed following some better asphalt roads albeit with some long stretches of road works. For most of the day I rode through a broad valley, several kilometres wide. To the north, towering above the river, a range of high mountains with a lower wall of white, weathering cliffs and badlands. Nearer to the road was another range of rugged mountains. About 40km from Naryn was small gorge where the river had been dammed for a hydroelectricity system that supplies a quarter of the region with power.

A 3km diversion on what was probably the old road out of Naryn. Beside the river, some of the unmaintained track was overgrown and a lot of fun to cycle down while it avoided a steep climb over the mountain on the new road.

The plan was to continue to the village of Ak-Tal (88km) and on to Ugut, keeping to the south side of the river. Google Maps showed a significant road with a 2350m pass on the way to Kazarman. The road however dropped in quality after Ugut. Then, after 111km we were stopped by some workmen in a truck who told us the road stops completely in a few kilometres and there was no way through. It’s not the first time Google has been completely wrong. We had to return 23km to Ak-Tal and take the only other option, a road given the tag “Kyrgyzstan’s most scenic road.” It was actually the road I originally planned to do, but because of the high pass and my digestive tract issues that were sapping my energy, I had opted for ta supposedly easier route. Now I had no choice but take the higher road. In order to keep to my schedule I needed to reach the next town, Kazarman, in two days. From Ak-Tal, I belted out a further 17km along a rough gravel road to get to where the climb started and give myself a chance of reaching Kazarman.

Stunning landscapes near Ugut – the river at the foot of some white badlands

A part of the rough gravel road, heading towards the long climb on “Kyrgyzstan’s most scenic road”. The Naryn River is in the distance.

Ugut village from our camp on the north side of the Naryn

Days 122 and 123: Camp (Ak-Tal + 17km) to Kosh-Bulak, Kosh-Bulak to Kazarman – 70km, 42km

The only way was up from our campsite (at 1620m) – quite steeply for the first 2 km, then after 5 km some respite with 4 km of asphalt through a village, then rough gravel again. After crossing a river, I settled into climbing a long straight with, on average, a 5% gradient heading directly towards the mountains.

An aqueduct containing clean spring water from the mountains cascaded in an above ground channel to farmers in the area.

Soon, the road turned away from the aqueduct and the climb to the pass began. Feeling depleted from the diarrhoea, I just tried to pace myself and keep my gears in the low range.

The first section of switchbacks

And the switchbacks continued, on and on…

I just had to hang in there and stop occasionally to enjoy Kyrgyzstan’s most scenic road! The Naryn River is in the distance.

Over the last few kilometres, I entered high grasslands where Kyrgyz still lead a semi-nomadic life, grazing their animals here in the summer months before returning to the lowlands for winter.

I was pleased, and relieved, to make the summit at 2768m, an ascent of 1200m over 29km! (1800 vertical metres climbed). Not a bad lunch spot!

From the summit was a steep, gravel descent that I had to take carefully for 15km.

My day then got much tougher again. There was no nice valley gradually descending to the Naryn River – the road crossed several 200-300m passes. Into a strong headwind and often loose gravel, this was a particularly difficult section. It was soon evident that I wouldn’t make it to Kazarman in one day – I just tried to get as close as possible. After 70km, I was totally drained and we were running out of light. I made it to a small village, Kosh-Bulak but no one there was offering accomodation, so we drove 5km to the next village where a family, who sometimes offer accommodation, put us up.

Kosh-Bulak village

I had to pass on the dinner offered and requested mashed potatoes – something that I could possibly digest in the hope of having more energy in the morning.

We drove back to where I stopped cycling and I continued to Kazarman. There was just one more 300m climb and then a downhill, through a spectacular gorge to the Naryn River. As we were half a day late, we were just going to replenish our supplies, get some medication for me and move on. However, I had pushed past my limits over the last couple of days and decided to take the afternoon off. I slept for four hours!

While we were having lunch, Sasha found out there had just been a landslide on the route we were about to take, through Naryn Gorge. He and Anna went to investigate while I rested. The road was closed and at this early stage, we didn’t know when it would reopen. There was only one alternative route and it wasn’t following the Naryn River as I had planned.

Days 124 and 125: Kazarman to Jalalabad – 45km, 106km

I was feeling a little better the following morning, but still low on energy. We drove to the entrance of the gorge where the road was closed to find out more information. The mayor was inspecting the landslide. Anna had sent our drone to see what the problem was. The landslide was about 5km from the main bridge. It was a new road and apparently this wasn’t the first landslide – but it was a big one. The mayor and police said the road would remain closed for at least 4 days. We were hoping we could use the old road to pass the problem, but the police were adamant we could not pass. (In fact, the road has now been closed for 10 days, and it will be longer before the area is cleared and the rocks stabilised.)

The new bridge and the old bridge at the head of the gorge from where the road had been blocked.

By then I had devised Plan B, to cross the high pass between Kazarman and Jalalabad (151km route, 3000m pass). Then, as my journey is meant to be following the Naryn River from its source to where it becomes the Syr Darya as much as possible, I would cycle to the border crossing nearest the Naryn River and then we would drive back up the river to see a couple of important sites that I didn’t want to miss entirely, before crossing at the border into Uzbekistan.

Starting in Kazarman in 35°C temperatures, it was basically up from the Naryn River – thirsty work until I got higher. There was only half a day left by the time we got going, so my aim was to do half of the pass, up to 2000m on the first day, and then the final 1000m climb on the second morning before seeing if I could reach Jalalabad.

It was slow going with my low level of energy but I just kept chipping away. The climbing was mostly 5-6% gradients with some steeper pinches on a busy gravel road. The dust was unpleasant and I was constantly having to pull my neck buff over my mouth the nose. After reaching 2100m I descended to a valley and to our surprise, a large Chinese factory with a lot of construction going on. There were trucks and diggers all through the previously pristine valley.

The team chilling out in a stream on the way up.

I continued for a further 5km while we searched for a campsite and then returned to the stream, a little away from the factory to camp.

Two Kyrgyz girls at the point where I reached on the first day

There were a lot of cows and horses grazing the roadside on the climb. Many had unusual coats.

The final stage of the climb was the steepest, the road wriggled its way around the mountain with a series of switchbacks. The steepest gradient I measured was 15%, but mostly it was between 6-8%. The quality of the gravel road was pretty good and I was pleased to reach the summit of Sholunar Pass in under three hours.

About 7km to go on the way up.

Finally made it – 3000m Sholunar Pass. Two Swedish medical students started the final phase of the climb about 3km behind me but never caught me up – they were pleased to make the pass about 30-40 minutes after me.

The descent was not as much fun as I had hoped thanks to the stream of Chinese trucks, some of the drivers quite aggressive, and the thick dust they stirred up every time. 16 km down the pass, the Chinese were building a train tunnel. The whole valley was a mess with construction sites along the way and so much bulldust. The ride remained challenging over rough, dusty roads, and more shorter ascents until I reached the 60 km mark. Suddenly I entered farmland – open fields of harvested wheat and other crops – and a tarmac road.

After 68 km, I didn’t think I was going to make Jalalabad, but once I hit the highway, there was a very gentle downhill and good road most of the way. Entering the city, there was a terrible section of roadworks for about 6 km where I battled with trucks and dust. I made it just after sunset.

Day 126: Jalalabad to Kyzyl Tuu – 90km

Finally an easier day crossing along the eastern rim of the Fergana Valley on good road to the border crossing into Uzbekistan. Back down to 600m above sea level, the temperature was back up to 35°C. I made the distance by 4.30 pm so we had plenty of time to start the drive back up the Naryn River. I was looking forward to a day off the bike to visit the village of Kyzyl Beyit and later, Toktogul Reservoir.

Day 127: Kyzyl Beyit

When the Naryn River was dammed by the Soviets in 1974 to create a massive hydro-electric scheme, Kyzyl Beyit and some other settlements were totally cut off from the main road and all ammenities and 20,000 people were displaced. The village had to fend for itself – no access roads, communications or electricity. Only in the last three years have the Chinese built a track through the mountains so they can access a mining site and extended the track to link Kyzyl Beyit. To reach Kyzyl Beyit, we had to negotiate a ferry trip across the water, on a pontoon boat made by the villagers, then one villager in a Russian Lada car would drive for an hour to meet us and take us to the village.

Our handmade ferry!

Our limousine (Lada) waiting on the beach

Twice on the way to Kyzyl Beyit and twice on the way back, our driver would have to stop and cool the engine down, and refill the leaky radiator.

The route down to the village.

Kyzyl Beyit is a village of about 350 people – each family has 8-10 children and there are about 35 houses strung out over about 3km. We visited one family at the top of the village and another at the bottom. Life here has changed massively since the road was pushed through and the government provided solar power panels for each house. Before then there was no electricity, no means of communication and access was by the boat only. It was an 8km trek, on foot or by horse, to and from the Naryn River. Now the children can leave to go to school, villagers can communicate by mobile phone and they can get medical assistance more easily.

The house for the first family – where they lived until three years ago. Eight children were born in the home! They built their new home once materials for building via the new track.

Solar panels for each house has revolutionised communications and generally made life easier.

Listening to her radio in the beautiful garden she maintains – so much pride.

The villagers in general like their quiet life although now it is slightly more accessible, it gives them a better quality of life too.

Romanov’s wife shows us where visitors can stay if they wanted to come to Kyzyl Beyit. She is pointing to images of her mother, father and grand parents. Tourism is welcomed but up until now, few people know about Kyzyl Beyit and access is still difficult.

Romanov – who seems very proud and content with his lifestyle.

Naryn River – the beach where we landed to go to Kyzyl Beyit

Toktogul Reservoir (after a thunderstorm) – built in 1974-76 – the system now provides virtually all Kyrgyzstan’s hydropower needs. It also provided enough water to irrigate 400,000 hectares of land.

There is a little more to these stories but I am very short on time and need to publish this blog.

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Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: Back to the Source

Kate Leeming — Fri, 25 Jul 2025 11:22:58 +0000

17th – 20th July | Arabel Suu Plateau to Naryn (Kyrgyzstan) | Distance: 201km | Total Distance: 7276km

As those who are following my blog will know, this is an expedition from the SOURCE (of the Syr Darya) to the (Aral) SEA to the SOURCE (of the Amu Darya). There are just two stages to go. One starts in Kyrgyzstan from the source of the Naryn River, the primary tributary of the Syr Darya and the other finishes at the true source of the Amu Darya in the Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan. Given my expedition had to start in March to fit with the seasons, it wasn’t possible to start the expedition at the source of the Naryn River because all passes would be blocked by snow at that time of year.

From Dushanbe, I flew to Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, collected my team – Sasha is back as the driver and Anna has returned to film this section. From Bishkek we drove to Lake Issyk-Kul – the second largest saline lake in the world, lined with extremely high mountains of the Tien Shan. The aim was to stay in Kyzyl Suu village at the eastern end of the lake to meet scientists at the Tien Shan High Mountain Research Centre. As 2025 is the International Year of Glacier Preservation and glaciers account for 80 percent of all water flowing through the Aral Sea Basin (including the Syr Darya and Amu Darya), I wanted to find out more about how the glaciers are fairing in the Naryn River catchment area.

We were fortunate to meet Salamat who is head of water geography and science for the Naryn River catchment.

Determining where the source of the Naryn River is.

His team has been making a longitudinal study measuring the thickness and size of different glaciers throughout their annual cycle, as well as temperatures. Salamat said, over the last decade, the mean temperature had increased by 0.8C!

With the team at the Tien Shan High Mountain Research Centre, Kyzyl Suu. Salamat is on the far left.

I knew roughly where the source of the Naryn River was on the Arabel Suu plateau, but Salamat pinpointed the source as a particular lake, “Green Lake”. From the research centre we headed into the mountains via Barskoon Pass, over 3800m.

As the source of the Naryn/Syr Darya is the real start point of my expedition, we spent two and a half hours filming in the windy, chilly conditions on the Arabel Su plateau.

At Green Lake on the Arabel Suu Plateau, the source of the Naryn River. I began cycling from this point, however we were unable to follow the main Naryn River as it enters a very mountainous region that cars and bikes can’t pass through. Instead I followed what Salamat called the “Little Naryn River” that joins the main river later on my journey. The watershed between the two rivers is on the western side of Arabel Su plateau.

By the time we had finished filming “the start” of the expedition, there was only time to do 11km across the plateau – just far enough away from the main road and Kyrgyz graziers. It was great to make a start.

Day 118: Arabel Su plateau to camp, west side of the river -71km

Sunrise over the beautiful lake we camped beside at 3800m the next morning

There were many glaciers visible at this altitude – the track before it drops to the river valley.

There was a very steep descent to the river valley that I approached cautiously, and then the track followed closely the course of the river.

There were many horses, cows and sheep grazing in the vast valley

Kyrgyz yurts were a common site along the valley

The Tien Shan are quite different to the stark, dry Pamirs. The geology is different and the green grassy high plains and cover on the mountains feel like Switzerland in some ways (but higher).

A feature of taking this route was the amount of water crossings. None of them were very deep, but many required me to slip on my sandals and wade across carrying my bike. I did about 25 crossings (that required me to stop, change footwear and carry my bike.) Many others were shallow enough for me to cycle through.

There were often a lot of different tracks to follow through the grass. The grass was “mown” by all the animals – horses, cows, sheep and occasionally, yaks.

The forecast was for heavy rain at around 6pm. I really wanted to finish this 64km section before the rain muddied the track and filled the rivers that would make crossing them more hazardous.

Being chased by a rain storm. Somehow, through pure luck, we managed to stay ahead of the rain although I had to deal with the short few showers.

The main road! Off the track and onto the main road in the area, I was expecting something a little better quality but often had to ride on the grass bedside the road to avoid mud and stones.

Day 119 Camp – Naryn town 119km

It rained heavily overnight, but fortunately we were warm and dry in our tents. However, the road had been turned into a muddy quagmire in places. The first 30km of the day had a lot of mud but I was able to get through it, albeit myself and the bike were plastered The road followed the river valley with a couple of passes to do on the way. Kyrgyz farmers were working in the grasslands, moving their animals around – cattle, horses, yaks and sheep. In the mid section of the day the road traversed several gorges.

Muddy pools of water after the rain

It was pretty tough work following the hilly roads – here another stream enters the small Naryn.

The tree-line returned at around 2500m. The small Naryn didn’t seem so small anymore as it cut through some spectacular gorges. The roads were incredibly steep making cycling exhausting.

Finally the gorges opened out into a wide valley. Here, the main Naryn River is being met by the small Naryn River, about 45km from Naryn town.

The downhill run to Naryn (over 40km)

I was pleased to get through this brilliant, but challenging section and took a rest day in Naryn. I have been struggling with digestive tract issues for over a week and wanted to give myself a chance to get over it.

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Breaking the Cycle Central Asia: The Wakhan Valley

Kate Leeming — Tue, 22 Jul 2025 09:36:10 +0000

10th – 14th July | Langar to Khorog (and return to Dushanbe) | Distance: 216km | Total Distance: 7075km

My journey through the Wakhan Valley began in Langar, where the Pamir River and the Wakhan River (that flows from the Wakhan Corridor in Afghanistan) meet to become the Panj River. The Wakhan Valley, as opposed to the Wakhan Corridor in Afghanistan, is the Tajikistan part of the Wakhan, a part of the Pamir and Hindu Kush mountains.

For centuries, the Wakhan Valley was an important principate of the famous Kushan, a great empire that extended from southeast Tajikistan to the Ganges Valley in India. The Kushan built several fortresses located on the top of very high hills, some of which I wanted to see. Historically, the region served as a dividing line between west and east Asia, so the valley was also an important Silk Road route. In the 20th century, it also marked a clear border between the Soviet Union and the British Empire.

Day 109: Langar to Yamchun – 41km

View through a gun slot on one of the many small fortifications overlooking the Panj River towards Afghanistan. The biggest issue for Tajikistan is curbing in inflow of refugees

Rolling on from the high Pamirs, this was only a three day section that I hoped wouldn’t be so intense as I was pretty tired. Out of Langar I was only planning a short day to try to let my body catch up a bit. Heading out from the green, protected sanctuary of the village, the weather had other ideas. The majestic high mountainous walls that form the valley served to funnel gale-force winds up the Panj River. The road was terrible, a continuation from the road through Khargush Gorge that I rode the previous day. It was stony (loose and embedded stones), corrugated, sometimes sandy and there were a lot of steep climbs too. I struggled to average 11km-12km an hour.

Rough road, beautiful mountains

A typical climb – this one went on and on…

Just after lunch, I stopped for my 5km break, (I had to break my day into small sections to get through it) went to adjust my seat that had slipped down due to the rough road, and noticed a crack almost right through the middle of my seat tube. Lucky the seat didn’t snap completely while is was cycling! This was very alarming – a structural break in the frame. I could ride no further without it being fixed.

But what to do in the remote Wakhan Valley where there are few amenities. The bike is aluminium which requires specialist skills to weld. Karim asked around – he had a great suggestion to fit a piece of pipe inside the tube to act as a kind of splint. The first metal worker was out but we found another guy in a village 5km away who could help. His yard was full of apparent junk from old cars, air conditioners, pieces of pipe – anything that could be useful one day. He measured the seat tube and scouted around for a suitable piece of pipe which he found inside a hydraulic unit. He cut it out with an angle grinder and went to work.

The pipe was fractionally too large so he slit it with an angle grinder and compressed it in a vice. He did this repeatedly, shaving tiny amounts from the slit each time

Eventually it just fit – it had to be a very tight fit for the pipe to sit in the frame. He welded the ends and then inserted it in into the tube

It required some hefty blows with a hammer to get it in and all the way down to bridge where the crack was

The bike temporarily fixed, enough to get through the Wakhan Valley and back to Dushanbe where it could be welded, I finished off the last 15km of my ride and we took the late afternoon to visit Yamchun Fort and some hot springs. This involved a steep climb away from the valley (we drove this) and gave amazing views over the valley.

Yamchum Fort – built in the 3rd Century BCE – is amazingly well-preserved. I always wonder how they ever built and survived in such an inaccessible place. The fortress was undergoing some restorations and we were unable to enter it

High above the Wakhan Valley, it was a perfect place to fend off invaders (if they could cross the river!)

Day 110: Yamchun to Ishkashim – 72km

The road to Ishakshim was more of the same to start with, but during the day, there were more and more strips of the old Soviet made asphalt. The headwind nearly blew me off the road on the longest climb – back up to 2928m. 72km doesn’t seem much distance, but in these conditions, it was a full day. The last part was mostly old rough tarmac where I could move along pretty well. The valley narrowed into a gorge and then broadened as I neared Ishkashim.

High above the valley was another Kushan fort – Kala Forrtress – slightly older than Yamchun. It didn’t seem that significant from the roadside, but built on a rocky hill overlooking the valley, it must have been imposing to any would-be invader. The hill itself was a part of the design with surveillance turrets built into the rock giving views of all directions.

The view over the valley. Some of the stonework was particularly impressive. Most of the fort is now “melting” into the hillside

Surveillance turrets giving views of all directions

Day 111: Ishkashim to Khorog – 103km

Until the last few years, Ishkashim was a well-used border crossing between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. It is the crossing I had hoped to take until I learned it had been closed by the Taliban. Every Saturday, a market is held where Tajiks and Afghans can meet and trade. Security either side of the bridge is high. Travellers are sometimes allowed to cross, but we didn’t have time to wait another hour as I had to cycle to Khorog – a full day knowing the likely conditions.

People waiting to enter the market at the bridge across the Panj River between Tajikistan and Afghanistan

A large gathering on the Afghanistan side, waiting to do business

Fortunately the wind died down on the third day to Khorog which was just as well as I had over 100km to cover. The road quality improved a little, mostly broken tarmac, especially near Khorog.

A wild gorge on the way to Khorog. The Panj River was very high due to the heat wave melting the glaciers at an unprecedented rate

It was great to finally reach Khorog, the city where I started the big loop through the Pamirs. This was the end of this section of the expedition. Now Karim had a 10 hour drive to get back to Dushanbe, a route he is used to doing. He did a brilliant job. We arrived in Dushanbe a day ahead of my schedule, which was all very well because I needed the extra day to rest and sort out the final two phases of the expedition – through Kyrgyzstan and the Fergana Valley, and then the Wakhan Corridor in Afghanistan.

At the top of the to-do list was getting the bike welded.

The rough weld – stronger than ever – so I am told

The finishing touches – some spray paint

The next blog will be from Kyrgyzstan after my flight to Bishkek.

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