In Osh, I got up nice and early so I could be taken to the rendezvous point for my driver to Murgab, Tajikistan. Initially, the hostel was charing a WHOPPING $215 to get to Murgab (for the vehicle..), but I convinced them that I didn’t need a private tour, and just wanted to go with some locals. They agreed to this, made some phone calls, and said it would cost $49 (USD). Still a whopping amount of money, but mind you, this is an incredible distance, over terrible terrain with expensive (and rare) gasoline, AND most quotes are in the hundreds to get here. So I took it. A cab picked me up and dropped me off with the driver, who was loading stuff/passengers, and off we went. Advice to other travelers- Idk how you find these drivers, but my hostel was pocketing $30- if you pat directly its about $20 to Murgab at the local price.
And off we went. The Pamir mountains are a massive range, extending from Afghanistan into China and across these ‘Stans, and of course, there are micro-ranges within all of them. This section of road climbs up towards the top of those mountains, and skirts alone the ridge lines and plateaus between those ridge-peaks. It’s really something to behold, seeing the jagged top of these famed peaks, and all the while the landscape is something so strange. It truly is taking an arid landscape and placing it 20K feet into the air- desolate bowls, yet snow capped everywhere.
The Eastern Pamirs
Most people stop half way to avoid altitude sickness, since we were climbing up to over 15K feet from a little over 3K feet at Osh. We went straight there, and I just drank water, and prayed to baby Jesus that any ensuing headache wouldn’t be my final moments with cerebral edema.
In the land of Mitsubishi Pajeros and Toyota Landcruisers, these roads were made for SUV commercials. It’s not just large ruts, muddy trails, snow drifts, or rocks, it’s that all of these things somehow are occurring simultaneously. It’s fun to be a passenger sometimes.
Pamir Highway north of Murgab
I was reading in my travel guide places to stay in Murgab. It mints how it’s a hub for truckers to go to China (that pass is closed to foreigners), to get to Khorog, and even journeys into the Wakhan region. I was looking forward to snuggling up in one of the lodge-like guesthouses and swapping travel stories with other weary back-roaders.
Well, Murgab is out there. I mean…really, really out there. The 3 establishments I went to find login were all closed ( 2 just had locks on them, nobody around, no birds chirping, nothing). Stone houses line empty dirt streets as the wind howls through them. The bazaar is a massive collection of old shipping containers (I’ll assume they’re from all the Chinese trucks that decided they weren’t gonna make it). And the mountains were looming over all of this scene. It was a bit eery at first.
Murgab Bazaar
With the aide of the english speaking girl at the not-open-yet hotel, I meandered my way to a guesthouse in town. Very simple lodging, but the price was decent, and I had a roof over my head.
I decided to take a walk and look around. The bazaar was completely shut down, without a soul in sight. The gas station didn’t have anybody there. Save for a few goats, this place was so empty. That was, until, I followed what could have been the sound of the wind crying it’s triumph over this place, but was in fact the distant sounds of some laughing and cheering. As I rounded the bend I found, to my surprise on many levels, a lively game of volleyball going on with what seemed hale (ok maybe all?) of town around to watch. I stood at a distance at first, but I ws soon noticed and instructed to come stand right next to the score keeper and watch front row. It was a blast. It seemed like it was older guys versus a team of younger whisper snappers. Game one went to the young guys. Game two was close, but old guys took it. The third game was the most intense (at first), but the older guys hit their stride and took off. Bumping, setting, spiking (right?), you’d think we were watching the Tajik olympics. With every wayward ball, sniper-lied spike, or obvious blunder, everybody would “ooo”, cheer, and laugh hardily. The score keeper, in the mean time, was teaching me Tajik numbers as we followed along (he served as referee when things got tricky, too).
Set!
I’m really lucky to have found that volleyball game. I know I’ve written about how experience shapes your opinion of a place before, but I could start to feel my opinion forming on Murgab, and it was in a slightly (OK fairly) negative light. But then I found a community that is OK with shutting down the shops, turning the lights off and going out to have some fun as a village. :Opinion changed:, and I’m still learning that lesson.
To the old guys: keep playing like you’re young. Young guys: keep playing like you’ve got something to prove (you do). And the the rest of us, make sure we’re there, and start making community a priority.
-BK