Tajikistan > We lost Wilco

I’m cold at night. Seriously cold, even though I’m already wearing all my thermal clothing. I estimate the outside temperature at this altitude to be just a few degrees above freezing. I have to gather courage to go to the toilet at night. The nearly full moon illuminates the barren mountain landscape—a beautiful sight under the starry sky. I don’t linger long. I quickly dive back into my warm sleeping bag. The next morning, when I open the tent, a few marmots are watching me.

Tajikistan - Camping among the mountains near Bulunkul Lake

The curious little creatures keep a safe distance. I wash in the stream, which carries water from Bulunkul Lake and Yashilkul Lake. The cold mountain water wakes me up instantly. After packing the car again, we drive along a dirt track to Yashilkul Lake. This lake was formed by a landslide. The clear blue water contrasts beautifully with the mountains. What a stunning location. The smaller Bulunkul Lake also looks beautiful, with the snow-capped peaks reflecting in the lightly rippling water. We drive briefly into the village of Bulunkul. In the small shop, we had seen some cardboard—maybe we could use it as a license plate. We’re allowed to cut a piece from a banana box. Everyone gets busy making our license plate. The neighbor boy who brought us bread yesterday gestures for us to wait. He goes inside and comes back with a fresh loaf of bread this time. We thank him warmly.

Tajikistan - The beautiful colorful Yashilkul Lake

When we turn onto the M41, the Pamir Highway, the road quality disappoints us. We had hoped the asphalt would be good. Besides the potholes, the asphalt waves considerably, causing our car to bounce if we drive too fast. We can’t go much faster than forty kilometers per hour. The jolting, and probably also the altitude, gives me a slight headache. A shame, because the mountain views are once again spectacular. We pass a canyon. From the edge, we admire the deeply carved gorge. From the opposite direction, a motorcyclist approaches. He stops—it’s Sven from the Netherlands. He’s riding his motorcycle from China to the Netherlands. He had already heard about us from the other motorcyclists last night. On the side of his bike, it already says “From Hiero to Tokyo.” Sven is still planning to go to Azerbaijan, and he wants to take our remaining Azerbaijani money—very handy! Mid-afternoon, we approach Murgab. At the village checkpoint and registration post, they complain about the missing license plate.

Tajikistan - We lost our license plate in the mountains of Tajikistan

The police must be called before we can continue, they say. Probably, neither of the two men feels like calling. We’re allowed to drive through anyway. “Hang something up with your number,” they advise. We already planned to use the cardboard plate for this. In the center of Murgab, we are surprised to find Milko there. We had understood that the others had already gone on to Karakul. Milko had stopped to take a photo. Wilco thought he had already left and had started driving. Because of poor phone coverage, they couldn’t reach each other. The result: Wilco is in Karakul, and Milko has returned to Murgab. Wilco can’t get fuel in Karakul. There’s no choice but for him to stay there and for us to bring an extra jerrycan of fuel for him tomorrow. At the Pamir Hotel in Murgab, all the tourists gather. Reinier and Anna arrive as well. Four Swiss cyclists we met along the way show up, and several Russian motorcyclists are staying here. In the evening, the room smells unpleasant. Exhaust fumes from the generator blow directly into our room. The broken window cannot be closed. We can move to the adjacent room. We leave the luggage and only move our beds.