Declassified, from Tajikistan

 I wrote this "blog" at the request of the human rights writer that invited me to help with his mission in Tajikistan.  It was included in his report to the international criminal court.  Now that we are all safely out of the country, and the ICC has formerly opened an investigation, it seems like there's no harm in sharing this publicly.   Names have been changed.

The day started like the rest, a change in plans. Instead of heading to Karakul we would spend more time further south and attempt to drive up to the Kulma pass to see the Chinese border with our own eyes. The road from Murghab to the pass was only slightly less scenic and slightly less maintained then the rest of the Pamir hwy. In other words it was awe inspiringly beautiful, and you had to hold on to the door handles with clenched fists. For long stretches it was better to just drive off road in the desert then avoid the potholes in the road. An hour or so past Murghab there was a large road sign, indicating distances and letting us know who was responsible for the nicer pavement ahead, completed in 2000. Probably an early part of the belt and road initiative. It was the first man made object we'd seen for a while. Once we passed the last (and only) intersection the road only goes to China. There was a checkpoint and a reasonably strong barbed wire fence extending as far as you can see on either side of the checkpoint. Our driver, and all around great guy, Davlat talked to the Tajik soldiers at the checkpoint. After a while a soldier whipped out his old soapbar cell phone and called his superior. Eventually Davlat got to talk on the phone, and explained that we (Zunun, Richard and I) are among the first tourists in the country since covid, and since my round the world bike trip got cut short in Almaty I've been dreaming of biking the Pamir hwy, and if possible, crossing at the Kulma pass to the Karakorum hwy in China. Letting us see the pass would be a great way to welcome tourists back to the pamirs. He agreed, as long as a soldier rode in the car with us. Done and Done.  

Our new soldier friend was a super nice guy. 24 years old, sporty, and a had a good eye for spotting wildlife. Other than one Kyrgyz yak herder, who had special permission, there were no people on this side of the fence. As a result we saw lots of wild animals for the first time since entering the country. Ibex, Marco Polo Sheep and Marmots. We were playing the not so far fetched roles of tourists, and seeing the animals made that role much more real, since we were all genuinely excited to stop and take pictures of the animals. In the car I was pretty relaxed, showing our soldier friend pictures from my bike trip, which really was a great cover story. The more I talked about it the more I really do want to pick up from Almaty and ride to the Pamirs and cross here into the Karakorams and south to Pakistan. If the political situation will allow it is another story. The others in the car weren't as calm. Davlat was taking a pretty big risk by bringing us there. Zunun, our Uyghur translator, fixer, and photographer certainly got some justifiable chills approaching China. If we did get interrogated at some point, Richard and I had the backing of the American empire, Zunun... not so much. Richard kept leaning too hard into the dumb tourist act, it was obvious to me that he was both nervous and loving every second of this.

We got up to the border, and it really sunk in. We were 14,313ft high, surrounded by mountains much higher. It was cold, and windy, and you could clearly see the Chinese flags, and giant Chinese characters on their border station. There was a Chinese style pagoda, with what looked like a soldier in it staring at us. The Tajik side was a little less Orwellian, but still not very inviting. Another soldier came out to meet us. He was also very friendly. We were told not to take any pictures, and our passports were checked again. A raggedy dog came and laid in the gravel while we talked about semi benign stuff. We learned that since covid no truckers cross the border, they just back up the trucks on either side and transfer the shipping container from one truck to another. This border is almost exclusively used by truckers, but we got a couple stories of tourists crossing. We learned of a couple of Chinese citizens that were denied entry back into China, due to covid apparently. They attempted to cross illegally in the mountains but were spotted, and then rounded up by Tajik guards and brought to the Chinese border station, where they were quickly admitted into the country, straight to jail. While we talked about border stories, and bike touring, and other small talk (via Davlat translating) Zunun walked to the toilet and covertly snapped some of the best and only pictures of this border station. Zunun is not a big fan of the cold, or mountains, or elevation, so as we continued talking he went back in the car, where he could do what he came here to do. He was able to take more pictures, and then swap out the SD card with one of just fun tourists pics, in case they asked to see his camera. We said goodbye, and I told the border guard to remember my face, and hopefully he'll recognize me when I return, maybe in a couple years. He took off his big aviator sunglasses and told me the same thing. As we drove away we offered the border guard some candy and he took the whole bag. We headed back down to the checkpoint feeling quite accomplished. After stopping to snap some pics of a couple of dead Yaks we dropped off our soldier, with 100 somoni ($9) in his hand.  

But that wasn't enough. The Chinese had recently taken land from Tajikistan, extending their border down into the valley, taking valuable grazing land from the Tajik herders and bringing their border within spitting distance from the road from Kulma pass to Rankour. We had to see it. Davlat asked our new soldier friends about the status of the road (think poorly marked jeep path). They said it would probably be passable, so Davlat took the opening to say we would try, but we might come back if it's too wet. A cover for the possibility that we would get to see the Chinese border fence and then turn around. Getting there was quite the drive. I'm usually not all that excited by 4x4 adventures, especially the American kind that involve towing your Jeep on a trailer on the highway to a designated 4x4 trail and doing a loop and hoping you have to use your winch. This was not that kind of 4x4 adventure, and I was pretty into it. At one point sand dunes had encroached right up to the Tajik fence, and after looking for another way, we figured the only way to continue was to actually cross through an opening in the Tajik fence. I gave it a semi real chance that as soon as we did there would be sirens and angry voices on loudspeakers, maybe even Chinese voices. But we used some logic, and made the decision to continue. It was still Tajik territory, and the only way towards Rankour, which the soldiers approved us going to.

Finally we could see it, and things got real exciting. The Chinese border was triple barbed wire fences, Chinese flags every 50ft or so. Also every 100ft or so was a tall post with a pair of giant cameras, and the cameras were rotating to follow us as we drove by. The feeling of being watched was palpable. We didn't dare slow down or roll the window down. At one point we drove past a man standing outside his truck by one of the cameras, just staring at us. It was clear from the tracks in the ground we were the first vehicle to drive this way in a while. Richard and I were wearing anti-facial recognition glasses, which felt a bit like wearing a helmet for skydiving, if the parachute doesn't open the helmet isn't going to help much. We tried our best to take as many pictures as we could without being too obvious, at one point Zunun handed the fancy camera back to me since the rear windows were a bit tinted. I'm sure the pictures China got of us are way better than the ones we got of them.  

We decided to continue all the way to Rankour. We were there yesterday talking with some locals. We would take that route back to Murghab, rather that return the way we came. Good thing too, because as we continued we got some good pictures of a new Chinese base on the border, which was quite a tense moment. Finally the road veered away from the border. We stopped at a scenic spot and took pics of some yaks and mountains, we are tourists after all, and talked to a local herder. Richard couldn't contain his satisfaction, and gathered us for a big group hug, "It doesn't get any better then this". Davlat replied, "I gave it everything I could". Zunun was still quiet, but with a successful grin on his face, this could be the photo that gets him a new life in Hawaii. I felt useful, and got a nice rush from the adrenaline. We then hurried back into the car and drove straight back, on possibly the most beautiful road in the world, to the little trucker canteen in Murghab where we had become regulars. It was quite the road trip. Tomorrow we would take a well deserved day for ourselves, soaking in some hot springs and decompressing.

28 hour adventure

 Adventure: I decided to try to find piedra hot springs. I was feeling lazy and didn't start till around 1pm, also to force myself to camp out. First 6 miles were on a closed road with snowmobile tracks, then things got interesting: Nobody had stepped foot on the ~1.5mi trail to the springs since before the last few feet of snow fell, or maybe all winter, and there were no trail markers, but I attempted to follow what seemed like a trail. The elk and deer and cow tracks somewhat converged on it too. I didn't have any maps loaded, just a single point on a green screen where I thought the springs were, and i seemed to be getting closer to it. Now, in my van, after looking at my gps track i know I lost the actual trail almost immediately. Eventually my improvised path took me to another section of closed road, this time with no human tracks, just ungulates. I followed it up river along the rim of a big gulch / wide canyon until i was roughly in line with the hot springs several hundred (thousand+?) feet below. I descended a 33° pitch slope on cross country skis. It was the best way down I could see, and the elk paths also seemed to converge to make switchbacks down towards the river. It was late, I was hoping I could get my way to the bottom of the canyon before dark to camp right by the springs. I could not.  The dark came quickly, and navigating became dumb. I camped out in the deep snow on a cold north face. I ate ramen. It's so quiet in the snowy woods at night.  I woke up cold and put on my frozen boots. I left my tent and huge 0° sleeping bag where it was and bushwhacked through steep woods, eventually taking the skis off and loosely throwing them in my pack. My hands and feet were too cold to stop and properly fasten them. It took me a couple hours to make my way to the river, where i joined up with a heavily packed trail made by elk and cows.  I was hoping the springs would be easy to spot, and they were, almost exactly on my little pin on the green, featureless "map".  By the time I got to the springs the sun had made it's way over the canyon rim and was shining directly on them.  The absence of a steady stream of visitors gave the algea a chance to take over the pool.  It was warm enough that i certainty wouldn't get any colder if i got in.  I almost didn't, but at this point it seemed like i had to.  I laid my naked body into the hot slimey water and let the now strong sun help in my cooking.  My toes hurt as they warmed up to operational temperature.   It wasn't all that comfortable, but i stayed in long enough to get to that 10/10 relaxed and warm.  Cows approached the river from the other side.  A bald eagle circled overhead.  I cooked ramen again.  It wasn't easy to follow my tracks back, with all the hoof tracks obscuring my own boot prints, which often were just small scratch marks on top of a hard icy crust on top of the snow.  But i was warm. And my skis were properly attached to my pack just like the guys on Instagram that the algorithm thinks i should follow, and my pack was small and light.  I nearly lost my tracks when I saw my tent pop out from behind a tree a couple hours later.  I packed everything up into my now big and full backpack and climbed the rest of the way up to the snowed over road.  I took my skis out and rode them 8 miles, mostly downhill, back to my van.  I made it back on tired legs 28 hours after i started.