June 3, 2014
I don't want to do this anymore: No, wait, I do
I think everyone was surprised when I finally left. I certainly was. It was almost four in the afternoon by the time I cycled away from the crowd of other cyclists that had also been taken in by the lovely Veronique. I found it very difficult as I pedaled uphill, barely keeping my balance on my heavy bike. Ten days of doing no cycling was a factor in my wobbles, as was the absurd amount of weight I'd put on the bike. Because I was heading off towards the Pamir Highway, a very remote and uninhabited high mountain plateau, I wanted to make sure I had everything that I needed. And because there wouldn't be any bike shops or way out of an emergency breakdown without requesting help from a motor vehicle, I had decided to carry a spare bike with me. Most of one anyway. Gayle had replaced one of her rims and the offer of her old one, a free spare to take with me, was gratefully received, given that my own front rim was perilously worn. I also had spare pedals, a spare chain, spare cassette, spare crankset, spare tyre and six spare inner tubes. What I didn't have was a spare rear derailleur, which was pretty stupid, because my rear derailleur was broken. But the bike was still moving, so I went anyway.
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The break in Dushanbe appeared to have been just exactly what I needed. I felt strong as I powered through 50 kilometres on that first evening, climbing gently away from the capital on a good paved road before finding a little nook for my tent and getting a good night's sleep.
The next morning things were very different. I began to worry that I had taken the wrong option by deciding to head towards the Pamir Highway. None of the others that had set out towards the bloody violence in Khorog had made it through. And the point at which they had been turned back was 300 kilometres ahead of me over a very difficult pass that would take me higher than I had ever been before. If I also got turned back, I would have to go all the way back over the pass and retrace my steps to Dushanbe. Then after all that I would have to take the Death Tunnel road north to Isfara. I began to worry I might be turned back, began to think that I should have just taken the Death Tunnel road in the first place. But I didn't want to go through the Death Tunnel, I would have to take the pass over it. There was a good chance that might be closed by snow. That whole route might be blocked. Then my only option would be to get another Uzbekistan visa and retrace my steps all the way back to Samarkand. That prospect was utterly terrifying. But if I got turned back from the Pamir, then blocked on Death Tunnel road, would I even have time to get an Uzbek visa before my Tajik visa expired? I didn't know what to do. Keep going? Turn back? Keep going? Turn back?
The road was very hilly and hard work. I kept sitting down and trying to work out what to do. Even if I wasn't turned back before Khorog the prospect of cycling the whole 1500 kilometres of Pamir Highway alone was horrible. Having been surrounded by people for ten days, I was struggling to cope with being all alone again. And the idea of having to do so much tough cycling alone, and then having to go fast across Kazakhstan alone because of only having a 30-day visa, then fast across Russia alone for the same reason, then fast across Mongolia alone for the same reason, and then China. Holy f*ck then China. The prospect of all the long and lonely miles ahead was daunting, scary and unappealing. This wasn't fun anymore. I sat and looked at dark clouds rolling over the hills and I said out loud "I... don't... want... to... do... this... anymore."
I was in a very bad place mentally. I could not motivate myself to keep cycling. But there was no easy way out. I had three route options and they all seemed terrible. For the first time I really, really, really felt like giving up on the whole trip. I needed to find a solution but I couldn't think of one. I turned around to cycle back to Dushanbe about six times, and each time I felt like it was a bad idea and turned around towards the Pamir again. I cycled the same stretch of road over and over again. And then it started to rain so I ate a Mars bar.
Finally I came up with a solution. Gayle, John, Rob and Gabor were all supposed to be collecting their permits for the Pamir region and leaving Dushanbe this day. I decided that I would cycle back towards Dushanbe and when I met them I would turn around again and cycle with them. The company would surely help me to get through the difficult first part of the Pamir Highway until I could find a better headspace. If I didn't meet them on the way it would mean they hadn't been given their permits and the Pamir was still closed, I would end up back in Dushanbe, and then I could take the Death Tunnel road north. Essentially it was taking the decision out of my hands. I liked that. I cycled quickly back down in the direction I had come from.
After a little while I saw two touring cyclists coming towards me, a most welcome sight even though I could see it wasn't my friends. It was a German couple that I hadn't met before. We talked for a little while and they told me that the permits were being issued and that they had met quite a few other cyclists coming this way, including a tall Hungarian. Gabor! And they had seen a group of three cyclists sitting in the forest taking a break five kilometres back. I was suddenly very happy and cycled on to find them all.
Ten kilometres later I wasn't sure what to do. I had seen no sign of any other cyclists. Could I have missed them? Should I turn around again and try to catch them up? Should I keep going to Dushanbe? Then I saw something coming up the hill towards me. It was moving very slowly. It might have been a loaded donkey, I decided not to get too excited. But as it got closer I saw that it was actually Rob.
"Hello" he said, "what are you doing here?"
"Hello, I said, "I've had a mental breakdown, so I cycled 40 kilometres back the wrong way to see you."
Gayle, John and Gabor soon joined us and I was by now very, very happy. It was such a feeling of relief to be back in the company of my friends and to have people to cycle with. It made everything seem a whole lot less daunting and a whole lot more fun. The sun had even come out. And they helped me get my country-sign picture in. My hissy-fit was over and life was good again as we rolled on together towards the challenges of the Pamir.
02/06/14 - 49km
03/06/14 - 87km
Today's ride: 136 km (84 miles)
Total: 20,160 km (12,519 miles)
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