Tajikistan > The exhaust breaks off

The boy from the guesthouse tells us that the road to Khorog is a hundred kilometers of poor quality, with the rest being fine asphalt. Fortunately. As soon as we leave Kalaikum, the potholes and bumps begin. Because asphalt used to be laid here, the potholes are much deeper than on an unpaved road. This is a main route. Trucks also crawl along the road, sending up thick clouds of dust. Everything gets covered in dust. The yellow color of Brutus slowly fades into a dull, grayish yellow. The interior is also coated with a layer of dust. Are the first hundred kilometers the bad part, or does this still count as fine asphalt? We fear it will take quite a while to reach Khorog today as well.

Tajikistan - The Pamir Highway along the Panj River

The view, however, is fabulous. On the other side of the Panj River lies Afghanistan. The mud-brick houses seem glued to the steep mountain slopes. The river forms the border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan. Our road, on the Tajik side, follows the river, winding slowly upward along the fast-flowing water. Suddenly, we hear a noise under the car. It sounds like the exhaust. The exhaust has broken just behind the first silencer. The rear section hangs loosely. Carefully, we remove this section and tie it onto the roof. With a bit more noise than usual, we continue driving. At the top of the mountain pass, my passport details are checked again. This seems to be the border of the Pamir region. A special permit is required for this area. My passport is thoroughly checked. I have a permit and everything is okay. The officer asks where we are going next—or at least I think he does—and mentions our missing license plate. We gesture that our license plate is left on the Khaburabot Pass. Everyone laughs. I do too. The road after the checkpoint is noticeably better. Where we couldn’t use third gear this morning, we can now drive a little faster. But the faster we go, the harder we must brake when a new pothole appears. Along the way, I pass small villages. The people here rely on this main road to Khorog. Behind them, steep mountain slopes rise. Along the side of the road, we stop for a late lunch. Using our little stove, we boil water and prepare instant noodle soup. Afterwards, it is still a hundred kilometers to Khorog. Assuming the road remains reasonably good, that will still take about three hours. We set off quickly. In the villages, children enthusiastically wave at me. Adults raise their hands as well. Whistles sound from the football field. The game pauses briefly so the players can wave at our car. It feels like a kind of triumphant parade. All travelers on the Pamir who drive themselves are adventurers. This morning, we met a Frenchman on his bicycle and another Frenchman who had been walking and was hitchhiking.

Tajikistan - The broken exhaust is reinstalled in Khorog

Yesterday, we met two Swiss cyclists, and just before Khorog, we meet two Dutch cyclists. It’s nice to talk to them briefly and hear about their travel plans. Around six o’clock, we drive into Khorog. We look for a garage for the exhaust. When we ask someone, he gestures for us to follow him. We arrive at the end of an alley. It doesn’t immediately look like a garage. A small garden gate opens. When I go inside, the garage owner is still in the bath. His wife pours water over him. “Five minutes,” he apologizes. The garage is nothing more than a workshop in the backyard. There is no space to look under the car. The car is jacked up, and the mechanic takes the exhaust in hand. He removes the broken piece in between and slides everything back together. He doesn’t have the clamp to secure it. “Tomorrow?” he asks. Before we know it, he gets into his car and drives off. Will it be today after all? Only after an hour does he return. It is completely dark by now. We understand he had visited five shops, all closed. Triumphant, he shows that he managed to find a ring. It is quickly mounted. He asks if we want tea while paying. A price? He has no idea. We suggest an amount, and it seems acceptable. We skip the tea and head quickly to the hotel. The motorcyclists have been waiting here for some time. According to the hotel owner, there is only one restaurant in Khorog, but he doesn’t know if it is still open. He walks with us to point it out. We go down a small staircase. From the outside, there is no indication that this could be a restaurant. Inside, fortunately, it is clear. After consulting with the kitchen, we can still order food. Meanwhile, Tajiks dance on the floor to local music. A very cozy atmosphere.