Pamir Party
Blue skies suck us high.
Breathing is heavy, noodle soups ready.
Nights are cold, many stories not yet told.
September. We are in the middle of the Pamirs. Our quartet moved very high — over 4,000 meters. So remote. So remarkable.
After leaving Kyrgyzstan behind, we headed toward the Tajik border and camped out in no man’s land before we crossed over the next day. At Karakul Lake we took a break resting and gathering strength for the Ak-Baital Pass, the highest point of the Pamir Highway at 4,655 meters.
By the time we crossed it, it was late, and we found ourselves crashing spontaneously in a small homestay at 4,400 meters. Basic, yes, but welcoming. Daniel, Katia, and Mira warmed us with steaming chai and fresh bread, saving us from the cold.
The night was tough. The oven boiled all night, making the air even drier, and noises from the homestay kept us awake. But in that wakefulness, there was only gratitude — for being in a protected place, high in the mountains, far from the rush of the world.
The next day, we descended to Murghab. There, we stocked up on energy-rich treats at the container market bazaar, got a park permit, and even traded some Tajik currency with other travelers, as all ATMs were out of service. With pockets full and spirits ready, we turned off the main road and into Zorkul National Park, near the Afghan border.
The path through Zorkul was quieter, wilder, more adventurous. We stopped at a small hot spring settlement to recover and meet a few fellow travelers, enjoying a brief respite from the sun. Six days of riding followed, across vast emptiness — dust, strong headwinds, washboard roads, and nights that plunged below −5 °C. With no shops for resupply, instant noodles grew tiresome fast. But the scenery — harsh, raw, and unforgettable — made every challenge worthwhile.
The Pamir Highway is more than a road. It has its own rhythm, shaped by culture, not borders. Along the way, we met Kyrgyz herders, Pamiri families, and Tajik hosts, each offering warmth and tradition. Near Zorkul Lake, we stayed with Pamiri families for the first time. After hours outside, stepping into a simple home for tea and food felt like pure relief — even with the small “hygiene” compromises. Accepting what is offered here is part of the experience, and it’s these moments that stay with you.
At over 4,000 meters for days, every breath becomes noticeable. Thin air, endless sky, and landscapes stretching far beyond the horizon put your mind in a different state — awe, reflection, quiet focus.
Then the descent began. Toward Khorog, the valleys turned green, orchards appeared, children waved, and summer returned in full force. Only the slow yellowing of leaves hinted at the coming autumn.
From silence and cold to laughter and fruit, this ride carried us through the extremes of the Pamirs — from stark high mountains to a vivid green garden where our lungs and legs could finally rest.
