Bartang Valley

Soloing the Bartang Valley might be the dumbest thing I did on this trip - except that it was worth it. I knew relatively little about the track, other than that it would be stunning, punishing, and desolate. It would take the better part of two days to reach the first town, and with my detour to Karakol, I was knowingly heading in with insufficient fuel. That Strom was in poor health with leaky forks, a sticky rear brake, and a concerning tendency to spontaneously lose power was also not ideal. I wasn't in great shape either: weary and disheartened, nose bleeding out one nostril, sinus infection raging out the other. But I never gave it a second thought. Once an audacious, absurd, or simply stupid idea has entered your mind, you must do the thing… because. Because it’s there. Because you can - even better if you can't. Because someone warned you not to. Because it's tautological to say that you should do something for the lulz. Basically because fuck it, why not?

Besides, to take the same road twice would be unconscionable.

The entrance to the valley and first 20 kilometers are nearly indiscernible but for faint disturbances in the ground, compelling one to wonder if they are even on the right track. How could such a venerated route be so lightly tread? It seems that travelers in Tajikistan form quite the echo chamber, and in reality few people actually do it. Locals certainly don’t - there's nothing there.

The savage washboard eventually gave way to a more defined path, and the valley began to reveal its true form. Distracted by the jagged, snow-capped mountains punching through the alluvium, I looked back to find my top case (containing my camera, drone, documents, shoes, and food) missing. Backtracking several miles, I found it cracked and lashed it back on.

At one point the road simply terminated in front of a stone hut. A hermit emerged, offering tea and asking if I had any news of the fighting. I gesticulated “3 day ceasefire” which I’m sure was super clear. He indicated that the road proceeded on the other side of his hut, and I continued on anxiously, for my fuel gauge was already reading 40%, far ahead of whatever schedule I could claim to be following.