The road to Afghanistan

The drive to Dushambe is late and in the dark, the Bentley's lights are pathetic and stuck up in the air but somehow we manage to get through and arrive at the Hyatt Regency, we could be in Hyde Park, it is amasing, a stunning hotel in this fairly small city. Several G&T's later, Sauteed Prawns, Huge Entrecot streak and a Creme Brulet, I begin to feel relaxed again after what has been a 12 hour day for David and I. Car is OK but we are on tenderhooks over the tyres as the next day we have the test of the rally although at this point we have no idea just how big an adventure that day will be.

After the feast we head off to bed looking forward to the next day, oh what a mistake that was.

Dawn breaks over Dushambe and from our hotel room window we can see parks, beautiful buildings, Government house and presumably the Presidential Palace all looking magnificent in the sun. We head off through the city looking for the road south and east to some unpronouncable place on the way to Khorob (pronounced Horob) where the first Afghanistan border is.

Well the first 200 kms is no real problem but we are climbing constantly towards 6000 feet, car goes well, no punctures but we suddenly come across the Morgan on the road side broken. We offer help and find that Phil and Lorrete are overheating, well the car that is !. Few ideas are thrown around before we sort out things and off we both go again. A mile later Morgan is stopped againg, we are use the last of our wate to replace what she has lost. The Yellow Peril arrives and offers a tow to the mountain top which is the last pass for the day. They couple up and we follow to the top.

Having all disengaged we head down hill, David and I take the obvious path ignoring an 'off' to the left, 1000 metres on the road ends in a 1000 foot drop to a gorge, an earthquake has taken out the bridge and if we don';t stop we will be Chitty Chitty Bang Bang !. Thank heavens the brakes work, we turn around and head back to the top and take the 'off' which takes us 3 miles around the valley head and back to the other side of the drop. We get to a police checkpoint who cheerily declare we will not get through, well specifically that the Morgan won't. With a feeling of dread we head off down the hill.

Suddenly the road ends and we are on a rough rocky track, no tarmac, no gravel, just bedrock. We keep going dropping 5000 feet to the Oxus River below, the scenary is beyond decripstion, I have put some photos on the blog site but nothing can describe the mountains and valleys we see as we drop to the river. We come to a corner around which we can see the river and Afghanistan on the far side, close enough to touch but with rapids that would defy a Grade 12 Rafter. Unbelieveable. The water is grey with silt brought down from the highest hills on earth, the Himalayas.

We drive on, no road just rock, people occasionally in tiny villages. Afghanistan rising from the other side. A track has been cut into the Afghan mountains some 50 metres above the water disappearing in both directions as far as the eye can see. On this path, people and donkeys walking for days, we are 200 kms from any town on our side, we see no towns on their side at all just tiny villages. The path is built up using stones, it is unbelievable. How long do they walk, how far do they walk. We drive 180 kms through streams, across wet and dry river beds, over promontories, never more than yards from the raging river below winding it's way down to the Aral Sea but never making it, syphoned off for cotton all along the way.

We are closer to the source in it's unspoilt region, just us, a few Tajiks, and the Afghans over the river. They call over, we whistle back, it is pehaps a 1000 metres, but insurmountable.

On on we drive, 16 kph, yes 10mph, rattle, bang, crash. the exhaust goes then gets knocked back on. The fuel guard snaps off, the dynamo ceased, but NO punctures. Mile after mile, Kilometre after kilometre we trudge on, the day passes and night falls, still no let up. The scenery is us, river, road, Afghan path and the sky, snow on the highest peaks, the world greatest rafting but no one here to sample it.

13 hours we drive to get half way along this road. We stop at a tiny village to get water, we have plenty of food and means to cook it, we are prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. As the sun drops below the mountains and 1836 approaches, sunset, we know we have until 1850 before all is black (Nautical Twilight you know !). We must be stopped by then there is no way we can drive at this speed on this track in the dark.

We hit the Badastan Autonomous Region border post at 1825, please let us through we need the last of the light to reach a village we can see maybe a mile ahead. The guards are watching satellite TV, miles from anywhere, using a generator, we ask where does the road start, the guard say 1 km ahead, we think he is talking rubbish but the village we plan to stop at is just beyond that so we must go on. Unbelieveable we hit smooth . perfect tarmac, within 1000 metres , would you believe it, thanks to the EU !!, our money working, thanks UK taxpayer !!.

We are off, 30, 40, 50 mph and it is as smooth as silk, can we make it to our homestay, 60 kms to go, nothing stopping us now, whow ! Bugger the lights on we go, spot light on and vaguely lighting the road, we will be fine providing we do not meet one of the hundreds of cows we have met all day standing in the road. (ask Arabs about meeting camel on a dark road at night, you will not find one that has done it !). We are off for 30 kms and trucking, then just to make our lives interesting the EU road finishes, stop !. No more road, back to track, but we are energised now, Homestay within 30 kms, just go for it, never mind we cannot see a thing, or that we have a fast flowing river on the right or that the road is non existent, or that the car is shaken to pieces, we are goiing to get there. David, '5 kilometre countdown please'.

30 mins later we crash metaphorically into the town of 'no idea' and reach the homestay. What an incredible drive, ghastly, terrible, unbelievable, extrordinary, what we came for !

We are covered in dust, I have filthy knees, arms, clothes, hair, face and feet, car is exhausted, we are tired but Bernard and Dina are there with a beer and a smile. We made it but where are the Yellow Peril and the Morgan, both were in front of us after the problems earlier. Suddenly the Yellow Peril arrives, it has been out for supper so no sweat but still no Morgan, we have lost it.

David is off for as shower , I get the cooking kit out, not risking Dheli Belly here so it's Chilli con Carne for supper with some sausage I have bought earlier in the day, bread from a shop nearby and my birthday present from David's wife, Yvonne, the Gentlemen's Relish. It is officially a feast when Chris and Liz bring out the Brandy and Vodka and we all sit down on the house balcony for dinner. What an end to one of the most amasing days of my rallying career, we are just exhausted but here !

The next day we are off to Khorog and Afghanistan.   Originally we were to drive into the Wakhan Valley and cross the border into Ishkasim, but yesterday's road has put paid to that as the road out of the Wakhan is worse !.   Instead we plan to get visas in Khorob and go into Afghanistan for a day there.






- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad