Cycling Day 13: Panjakent to Ayni

Sunrise over the lake, where I woke up in Panjakent

After Panjakent, it started to get steep. I climbed 60 miles, as the road began to offer me extra steep grades as I rode into the mountains. So far, this was the most stunning ride of the tour, visually. The cliffs rose up over the river valley as I got deeper into the mountains, the temperature was also not so incredibly hot in the middle of the day. 

A man in traditional clothes who was painting a fence

I stopped at a village to eat some somsa and found a place on the side of the road in the shade to take a nap. It probably wasn’t the most appropriate place, as I woke 20 minutes later to a bunch of little kids admiring my bike and staring at me. All testing out their “Hello” like broken records all vying for a reaction. I was a bit groggy, and also a bit annoyed. They couldn’t say anything else and none of them spoke Russian. I put on some sunscreen and kept riding.

Climbing higher into the mountains along the Zarafshon river

The “hello”s continued the entire way. Sometimes with children mobilizing themselves into groups when they saw me coming and shouting together as I rode by. Sometimes collapsing into fits of giggles, sometimes running alongside the bike, sometimes holding their hand out for a high five. On a couple of occasions, several boys ran directly in front of the bike - presumably to try to get me to buy apricots - while shouting “hello” and brandishing fruit. It was quite dangerous as cars were also coming down the road and I had to swerve into the opposite lane to avoid the kids.

Photo opp of my bike on this bridge over the Zarafshon

I finally arrived in Ayni. The backdrop was beautiful, but the town was not as interesting as I might have hoped. In fact, it’s more of a mountain crossroads than anything else. There is even a small airport there several roundabouts through the town branched off into roads that went all different directions to many areas of the mountains. 

Large selection of Qurt (raw milk with salt) at a rest stop in the mountains.

 

Downtown Ayni

I scoped out some spots to camp, but everything was very exposed with no trees or privacy. I rode a bit further to a guest house and ran into another guy bike touring. His name is Jeon, from South Korea and he had also started biking from Almaty, although he opted for the more wild route through the mountains of Kyrgistan to arrive. We were in the same spot, although he had left 2 weeks before me. He told me he was just planning to stay in a hotel next to where we were standing. He didn’t speak any Russian, so I negotiated with the hotel owner. There was only one room left with only a shared bathroom and no shower. After cycling for so long, it really didn’t matter. Jeon offered to cook some noodles and chicken that he had with him so we ate together. He just retired from his job as a civil servant but has been doing bicycle tours like this for many years. He was going to continue to Samarqand before flying home. 

With Jeon upon my arrival in Ayni. We both have the same bike.

We spoke to some other guests at the hotel - all of them locals. Some were driving through the mountains and stopped to rest before continuing to their destination. 

I spoke to a few who were aid workers. One of them, Tamanna, was originally from Bangladesh but has been living in Dushanbe for 15 years. She works for an NGO that educates people about hygiene and sanitation, both for personal health as well as food preparation and safety. She told me that Tajikistan, like the old USSR and East Germany, runs parallel government enforcement agencies. There is the police, who patrol the streets and enforce laws, and then there is the KGB (known in Tajikistan as the KGB), who monitors people, their interactions and interprets this in an opaque way and takes action without explanation. They often supersede police or other government operations. She told me a story about an experience she had last year in a remote mountain region, where they were holding a workshop on food safety, especially on imported food. She was accompanied by government officials, but there were also KGB agents who were observing the workshop. Two days into a week-long intervention, the KGB stepped in and notified her and her colleagues that they could no longer stay there and communicate with the people in the village and must depart immediately. Even her government handlers were not offered an explanation, but they obeyed. 

She asked me about my plans - I didn’t really have any, and I was closer to Dushanbe and feeling much stronger than I expected. I could potentially reach Dushanbe the next day. She said if I have some more time, I should explore the mountains - an idea that I liked very much. She recommended that I ride to Iskanderkul - an alpine lake not too far from Ayni - just 30 miles. I didn’t need more convincing, it sounded like a good ride.

View of Ayni at the base of its mountain