Date: June 4th, 2016
Distance: 63 km
Song of the Day: Everybody Get Dangerous - Weezer

Today started really well. The grandfather woke me up around dawn and we had breakfast together. The meal was simple, just some bread and buttermilk. It was very good, though, and had lots of energy for the day. I would need it.

I was on the road before 7:00 AM, which is pretty much my best start time ever. The morning was refreshing and cool, which was pleasant. The road continued to be steep, but the dirt in this area was well compacted. I wasn't going quickly, but things were going well. The area was pretty beautiful, the road following the course of a small stream. On either side were more cliffs and rocky hillsides. There weren't even more than a couple of cars an hour going by. Mostly it was me and a few shepherds around. The humans were certainly outnumbered by the livestock. It was mostly a quiet and pleasant morning for riding. Whenever I got a little bit tired I could stop and enjoy the solitude and gorgeous views around me.

At one point I stopped for water and noticed an unusual rock in the water. The more I looked, the more I realized that it was not a rock at all. It was, in fact, the turret of an armored vehicle. I wondered how that had gotten here. Looking around, I found the rest of the vehicle. It was almost completely buried in the river bank. Still, the tracks were visible on one side. The back door was open, revealing it to be almost filled with dirt and rocks. This was a reminder that there was a bloody civil war here after the breakup of the Soviet Union. I had not seen any other signs of the conflict. There weren't many burnt out homes or buildings, but this giant steel monster rusting away up here gave me an indication of what must have been going on.

The road continued as it had been for quite some time, a relentless uphill grade. Then the land started to change. The trees started to disappear, the valley began to widen out a bit. It was still beautiful, but more barren. The land around the road was covered in green grass and some small shrubs. I was still going very slowly. The day had begun to get very warm, with just occasional relief from a mountain breeze. At times I didn't feel like I was making much progress. I could see the road winding through the valley far above me. There wasn't much to be done, I just kept grinding my way up and up. Any time I felt discouraged I could stop and enjoy the amazing scenery.

At one stop I leaned my bike over to one side and had a little bite to eat. There weren't many places to sit, so I just plonked myself next to the bike. While I was sitting there, I noticed a hair or some string wrapped around the fork of my bike. As I looked closer to try and pull it off, I realized that it was not something wrapped around my fork at all. Instead, my fork had actually cracked. This lead to a long and extensive bout of swearing. For those of you who maybe don't know, the fork is what holds the front wheel on. If that breaks, then your front wheel is going to fly off. Losing your front wheel on a bike is the fastest way to slam your head into the ground. I was quite upset and thought for a moment that my trip would be finished. After a bit, I was able to get my mind back to proper, rational thinking. I reasoned that the crack had not happened that minute or even that day. Since it had been riding fine so far, I would just continue to ride to the top of the pass the way it was. I would also check to see how quickly things were getting worse. I was also not particularly worried on the uphill portion because I wasn't going more than 8 kph, and having the front wheel come off at that speed was probably not going to kill me.

So I continued on. The road kept going up. It was frustrating on a few occasions. I would start to think the summit was just around that next bend, but as I got to the other side of the bend I would see the road continue going up for miles. This happened at least twice. It's a little disappointing to think you have come to the top only to find several more miles to go. Still, when I would stop I could see that the crack in my fork wasn't expanding. So that, at least, was good news.

Finally, I reached the top of Khaburobot pass. At the summit was a small bus shelter that listed the elevation at 3,252 meters. Not too shabby. I stayed a while at the top. Not that there was much to do, but I needed some food and a little rest. I also needed to make a plan. I could have waited for a car heading down the mountain, but that would sort of ruin the whole trip. I want to do the whole journey by human power. There also weren't many cars coming along, and none of them were going the way I was. Instead, I decided to continue to ride the bike and get it to the next big town at the bottom of the pass. Once I had finally made the decision, I set off towards Kalaikhum.

I should note, here, that this is not a good idea. No person reading this should ever try riding down a mountain on a broken fork, it is super dangerous. I did my best to keep things at least a little bit safe. I kept my speed down to what I thought wouldn't hurt too bad if the fork snapped, which turned out to be about 12 kph. So the trip down was not fast. Because I was using my bakes so much, I also had to keep stopping to let them cool down. That didn't make the day go by any faster. These stops at least gave me chances to check the crack to see if it was expanding, and fortunately it was not progressing any further from the point when I noticed it.

The ride down also gave me a good amount of time to do a few things. The first was to enjoy the beauty of the place. The mountains are remote and jagged. Often the road is stuck to a narrow ledge between a cliff and a sheer drop down to the river below. The second was to rethink my annoyance at finding the crack in my bicycle. I realized it was so much better to have found it when I did. If I hadn't seen it and continued down the mountain in my normal way, it would have been very possible to have the fork fail at some very high speeds. The last thing I wanted to do was watch my front wheel go flying off while sailing down a mountain in Tajikistan. I couldn't help but look around me and imagine such an accident throwing me over the cliff and down into the rocks and rapids below. My third thought was how well the fork must be made. I can't say for sure what caused the crack, but I don't think it was recent. The only major thing that happened was the damage caused by the airline on the flight over. It got me thinking about all the mountains and passes I have been through in the last five months. The fork could have broken coming down any of them and it would have been just as disastrous, but it didn't. I would like to thank the guys at Ren who made the fork. In spite of the damage, it never sent my head into the ground, never tossed me off a cliff.

The last thing I thought of was how to fix the problem. The fork is titanium, so there is no possible way to weld it out here. I could try and find a new fork to replace the broken one, but it would have to be the right size and have all the right bolt holes. The chance of finding something like that in this remote area is small enough to not be a real possibility. My only option left is to create a splint for it. Think of it like a cast on a broken bone. This isn't easy, though. I went through a number of different possibilities in my mind, and the only way to create something solid is to make up a very complex three dimensional shape. I guess I will only know if it will be possible when I get to Kalaikhum.

Eventually, I got to the bottom of the valley. I was quite happy to be finished. My hands were cramped form squeezing my brakes the whole time. I was out of water and ready to get to town, and I still had another 10 kilometers to go. When I got into Kalaikhum, I found myself at the main crossroads. A few guys were there trying to take me to their guesthouse. Normally I would have welcomed that, but the first thing I wanted was to find a welder. One of the guys said that he would find me the guy. He tried calling, but no answer. Just then the welder, who the locals called "master", drove by. The locals told the master what I wanted and he told me to follow him to his shop. When I arrived, the power wasn't working. The master said to wait 10 minutes. After waiting around, the power was still off. No reason to hang out all night. I agreed to come back tomorrow morning. Hopefully I will be able to get things worked on then.



-Dravis

Date: June 3rd, 2016
Distance: 78 km
Song of the Day: Around the Bend - Pearl Jam

The morning was cloudy, but beautiful. The terrain was gorgeous. The whole place was hemmed in by large mountains, and the mists hanging overhead just added to the mystique of the place. I couldn't help but feel lucky to be able to be here. In places like this I am reminded of how enormous the world is. I can find myself alone in one of these remote corners of the planet, even with seven billion people inhabiting it. Just amazing.

As I continued on, the valley the road was built along wound through a narrow canyon. Some of the canyon walls were made from bright red soil, others were built from dark black stones. Both were covered with lots of green trees and plants. Down below, the dirty brown river roared as it snaked through the mountains.

The rough terrain took a toll on the highway, though. It was full of washouts. Usually these had been filled in, or a new path had been cut slightly higher up on the mountain. The road was also bisected by more than a dozen stream crossings. Some were shallow and narrow enough to ride through, others were not. I spent most of the day riding with wet shoes. Just about the time things were starting to dry, I would hit another big crossing and soak my shoes again. Such is life. At times I was annoyed the road wasn't maintained better, but at other times I was shocked there was a road here at all. Roads like this take tremendous abuse from the conditions high up in the mountains.

I stopped for lunch with a group of men working on a small building. I really enjoyed seeing what the local construction methods were like. It wasn't a complex building, simply made from wood and mud. The men stopped for a bit to share their tea and bread with me. It was nice to chat with them. I thought they were building a house, but they said it was some kind of garage. I think they might have meant it was a gas station? There wasn't really enough room inside to drive a car into it. After being there for 20 minutes, the foreman on the project started yelling at everyone. He was basically the only one left working on the building and was a bit cheesed off about it. Most of the younger men went back to work, but the two oldest men I had been sitting with just laughed and kept drinking tea.

The second half of the day was easier, but still tough. The road was more often flat and there were more sections of pavement. Most didn't last more than a few hundred meters, but they were a welcome relief in any case. The road in this area had two giant washouts, though. They had been replaced with a bed of large, loose, round stones. Not easy to ride through. The stream that caused the washout was also still there, drowning a portion of road. My feet were soaked once again.

I found more villages along this part of the road. Some were on the other side of the river and I couldn't see any way of getting across. At least there were little areas that were flat enough to put a village. It's pretty crazy to think that people actually live out here.

Eventually, I found the river crossing I was looking for. There was a suspension bridge crossing the torrent. The road then crossed a side stream, but this had no bridge. Since it was close to dark, I was looking for a way to cross on dry land. That wasn't an option. Fine. So I plunged right in. My feet were wet and the water, at points, came up almost to my knees. On the other side of the stream was a small village. The young men were playing volleyball on the edge of it. (Volleyball is really popular in this area. I wonder if that is because it takes up less space than a soccer field?) Just as I had reached the other side of the stream, one of the players hit the ball a little too far. The volleyball bounced a few times before hitting the stream, where it made a direct line down toward the large river. The volleyball players began shouting. I put the bike down and ran after the ball. Hell, my shoes were already wet. I was able to grab the ball just before it floated out into the main channel. The volleyball players were very happy that they hadn't lost it. I wonder how many they must lose in a year?

In the village was the first police checkpoint. This was where my GBAO permit came in. The officer there was nice and relaxed. He didn't ask any questions, just wrote down my information and let me go. I still had a little bit of daylight left and wanted to make up a few miles because it had been a slow day. I was also hoping to find a small stream or a place to get clean water. The sun was soon setting, but I didn't see many good spots. It was mostly steep slopes into the river. Soon enough, the road turned away from the river and headed up hill. Now the slopes were even steeper, I still didn't have water to drink, and it was dark. Whoops.

I came to a small village and saw a young boy carrying what I thought was water. I asked him, but it was actually milk. He told me there was some water nearby. I went with him over to what turned out to be his grandparents' house. While I was getting water from their tap, they invited me in for dinner. Again, who am I to refuse? It was very nice, but I felt a little bad because the men and boys ate with me, but the women ate in the other room. I don't know if they always do that, or if it was just because I was there. Either way, the food was good, and they even offered to let me stay there. In the main room they had a metal spring bed, probably from Soviet times. They didn't think it was good to use. Instead, they set me up with some mattresses on the floor and some nice warm blankets. (At night in the mountains, things were getting chilly.) I just found it startling that they had a bed, but didn't use it. And yet, they kept it around for some reason. In any case, I was fed, warm, and dry. It is amazing to me how often people here have been inviting me into their homes.



-Dravis

Date: June 2nd, 2016
Distance: 98 km
Song of the Day: Let it Roll - Edentree

I woke up bright and early in the morning, and Muhammad soon brought in breakfast. I thought I might see the rest of the family, but in spite of my early start Muhammad's father had already left. Breakfast was wonderful. Again, it was a big selection of food. I tried to eat as much as I could so as not to be rude, but they served way more than one person could eat, and kept bringing in more. It was a really lovely meal. Afterwards, I said goodbye to my hosts. I wish them the best of luck.

Leaving Faizobod, the road climbed over one large ridge, and then a second. The area was beautiful, more rocky river gorges. In many places the road was stuck between steep hills on either side. One looming above, one dropping down into the river.

At midday I hit a major river. On the other side were large dump trucks working on some massive construction effort. I am not sure if it's going to be a hydro-electric dam or just a main highway. In any case, the large trucks were dwarfed by the earthworks they were building. It looked like a colony of ants building a nest.

It was around this point that the road became awful. There were some sections of pavement, but it was mostly dirt. Frequently, the dirt road was rough, washed out, and badly repaired. The highway also had an annoying habit of climbing over the shoulder of one hill only to drop back down to the river again. It was a lot of up and down, and because of the poor condition of the road, neither one was fast or fun.

Just before the sun set I found a nice little place to camp. It had a beautiful view of the mountains all around, red rocks with green trees below a blue and white sky. It was a lovely place to spend an evening.



-Dravis

Date: June 1st, 2016
Distance: 63 km
Song of the Day: Jack-Ass - Beck

Finally got back on the road today. I am so happy about that, and extra happy because it almost didn't happen. My hub was working well yesterday, but the bolts had become a bit loose by this morning. I went to tighten everything up today and made it too tight. Then I had to go back through and undo almost everything to get the tension just right again. Urgh. Never make your own hub axle. That hiccup aside, things went well. I got a fairly late start, but the weather was good and my bike was finally rolling well again. I headed off in the afternoon towards parts unknown.

Leaving Dushanbe was remarkably simple. The road was decently flat, for once in this country, with just a few low hills on the edge of the city. Outside of that, the road cuts through broad valley. Not much around other than a few farms. I can tell you that we are quite firmly in donkey country here. They are all over this region. On the side of the road, being ridden by old men, braying next to a bar. Everywhere.

By nightfall I arrived in a town called Faizobod. I was trying to stop for a quick meal before heading on, but everything in town seemed closed. I saw a young man on a bicycle and asked if he knew of a place to eat. I was hoping for a restaurant recommendation, but instead I received an invitation to come and eat with his family. Who was I to refuse an offer like that?

The young man I met, Muhammad, is a university student. He took me over to his father's house. The structure was simple, made from mud bricks, but built well. It was clean and cozy, the walls had all been plastered and painted. Muhammad introduced me to his father, who is a translator. They also brought out a huge spread of food. I tried to tell them it was too much, but they insisted I eat. The hospitality in this area is amazing.

After dinner, Safar, the sister of the young man I had met, came in and asked to talk with me. She had studied English at university and wanted to practice. We chatted about her life and what she wanted in life. It was a very fascinating perspective she had, and a bit sad. Safar told me that she had studied at university to work in a small business. Now, however, she was a housewife and mother. She spent her time managing her house and helping out her parents. I got the impression that she liked being a mother, but she lamented the fact that she couldn't do anything else with her life. She told me she was wasting her education. I didn't know what to say and I couldn't see much of a solution. It wasn't just culture but economics, as well, that prevented her from doing more. It seems like a tragedy to have intelligent people like Safar stuck without a better way to use her talents. All because of her gender, and her economic situation.



-Dravis

Date: May 31st, 2016
Distance: Rest Day
And today there was still a problem. Sigh. When I tested the hub by itself, everything seemed to work perfectly. Once the wheel was on the bike, though, the freehub would no longer spin. Really annoying. It took a while for me to figure out what was going on. There was a very minor, but incredibly critical, flaw in my design from yesterday. Basically, it would fail when I put any weight on it. I've corrected this error and now things are working pretty close to perfect. I think I finally got it. I have tested it. I should be ready to get on the road tomorrow.

-Dravis

Date: May 30th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

I spent another day tinkering with my rear hub. Everything seemed to work when I tested it yesterday, but today in trying to ride it, the freehub wouldn't spin right. It took me all morning and into the afternoon to figure out what I had done wrong. Eventually I was able to get all the bearings into just the right place at just the right tension. Making your own rear hub axle is a pain, I don't recommend it. Everything has to be in just the right place. It's very fiddly trying to move something into just the correct location.

Once I had it all working right, I was able to take the bike on a little test ride. That went really well. The bike is finally working the way it should be. I should be ready to take off tomorrow. Finally.



-Dravis

Date: May 29th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

It took all day, but I think I figured out how to fix my rear hub. Since I can't find replacement bearings, I hit upon a plan to rebuild the rear hub axle with spare bicycle parts I could find. I spent most of my time getting what I needed. Dushanbe is a large city, but it's hard to find a good bicycle shop. What I found was less of a shop and more a collection of shacks. Each one was selling pretty much the same cheap Chinese-made components, and I was also able to find a few used components. I am not yet sure what I am going to do with the parts, but hopefully I can figure out something tomorrow.

I was hoping to have enough time to go and ride with Critical Mass. Yep, even here there is a Critical Mass ride every month. I was really sad to miss it, but I spent so much time trying to get the parts I needed that I missed the ride. Oh well.

Another sad part of the day is that all the other cyclists left. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to leave today, but it was sad to see them all go. It was nice to have a group of people around.



-Dravis

Date: May 28th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

I was hoping to get the drive train on my bicycle overhauled today, but that plan quickly became derailed. I knew my chain was shot, and probably the cassette as well. But when I went to take the cassette off the freehub, I noticed it had a severe wobble. Okay, so now I have to fix the freehub. That turned out to be harder than I thought. It took me quite a bit of time to figure out how to open up the rear hub. When I finally got it apart, the sight wasn't good. The bearing seals were mostly shot, and that had let dirt get in. This had worn away the moving parts. Half of the bearings inside the hub were no longer round, and not by a little bit either. Many looked like little domes rather than spheres.

I spent the afternoon trying to find parts that might replace what I had. The problem is that the bearings were so tiny I couldn't find anything even close. I guess I will work on the issue tomorrow.



-Dravis

Date: May 27th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

This really was a good rest day. I didn't do much of anything, mostly spending my time writing this blog.

I did enjoy hanging out at the house here in Dushanbe. My hosts are a French woman and her son. The two of them have made several bicycle trips through the Pamirs, which is pretty cool. I was able to talk about my plans with them, and learn more. We were joined by another French couple just coming out of the mountains, as well. There is also a British cyclist (though he lives in Sweden) and a Spanish lady (who normally lives in London). It's a pretty fun group to hang out with. With the exception of our hosts, we have all been cycling around the world for months, and it's fun to share stories from the road. Many of them are quite similar. Problems with visas. Problems with bad roads. Funny interactions with locals.



-Dravis

Date: May 26th, 2016
Distance: Rest day

I spent most of today hanging about in the center of Dushanbe. Here, enjoy a picture of the second tallest flagpole in the world.

My of my time went into getting my GBAO permit. This is a permit required by the government of Tajikistan to travel to the Pamir Mountains in the eastern part of the country. I guess there was a lot of fighting in the region during the Tajik civil war in the 90s, and because the government doesn't have the resources for tight control of the area they prefer to know who is traveling there. This wasn't in my original plan. I had wanted to travel up the Fen valley right to Osh in Kyrgyzstan, but the border crossing there is closed to foreigners. So instead I will have to take the long way, around and over the Pamirs. Not that I can complain too much, it should be a fun trip through an amazing area. It's just going to take a bit longer than I expected.

Getting the permit was not difficult. It didn't cost much, either, about 3 dollars. The process wasn't fast, though. First I had to go to the bank, and they were on lunch. Once I had paid the 20 som, I could go back and get my permit. They said it would be ready in two hours, so more waiting. But by the end of the day I had my permit. I will be heading into the Pamir Mountains.



-Dravis