The border crossing into Tajikistan goes smoothly. As is common in Central Asia, the co-pilots have to go through the separate pedestrian lane while I take the car across. After a bit of back and forth between customs, road authority and paying various fees at different payment points, after an hour, we are in the country. In the border town of Panjakent, we quickly get the usual chores done: buying a local SIM card and car insurance. Before we continue, we treat ourselves to some samsas (the Central Asian version of the Indian samosa, filled with different types of meat and vegetables, but always with plenty of oil) and a cup of tea. Finally, we made it to the highest country of the Stans, for which we have taken this journey upon ourselves in the first place. I’ve been dreaming of Tajikistan for 16 years, ever since we met an enthusiastic group of travellers in a Kyrgyz guesthouse who had just crossed the border and were raving about the Pamir Mountains.
Our first destination in Tajikistan: the Seven Lakes, a series of small, picturesque lakes in the Fan Mountains in Tajikistan’s north-west. The lakes are just a few hours’ drive from the Uzbek border. The tarmac road eventually turns into a dirt track and soon the first hairpin bends appear. At some point, we see the first of the seven lakes shining in a deep blue colour. A great contrast to the bare brown rocky slopes all around.
As beautiful as it is here, we’ve had enough of driving for today and keep our eyes out for a pleasant overnight spot. But it’s not that easy: the lakes had formed by landslides damming up the water in a very narrow valley. Most of the track is carved into the rock next to the lakes. So most of the time, there is not much more than a steep slope between the road and the water. At the end of the second lake we spot a rubble field with a few bushes. We take the path down towards the water. We are not alone: a local family is resting here as well and having a picnic. As soon as I turn off the engine, the father comes up to me and greets us warmly. We are given a large bunch of grapes and bread. The man tells us that he actually lives and works in South Korea. His wife and children, however, live in Moscow. Now, the family united over the summer holidays in their home country. Makes me realise how good we have it. Us, who are travelling out of wanderlust and of our own free will, and not out of sheer necessity.
We take a photo together before saying goodbye. I print two copies on our small photo printer, one for the family and one for the pinboard on the shelf inside our adventure vehicle. Before saying goodbye, we get the recommendation to drive a little further up to the higher lakes, it would really be worth it.
No sooner said than done. At the fifth lake, the valley widens a little along a stream. At a snail’s pace, I manoeuvre the Honda over the rough rubble to a somewhat flat spot for our first camp of the trip. We settle in, the tall co-pilot sets up the ground tent. The little co-pilot still insists on casting the fishing rod into the clear mountain lake. She doesn’t have to do much convincing with me. It almost doesn’t matter that we won’t be pulling any delicious trout out of the water tonight, standing by the water with the panorama is enough for us today.
After a quiet night in the clear mountain air (what a relief after three days in stuffy Samarqand!), we want to go a little further up. We don’t have to go far: One kilometre further on, on the hill above the sixth lake, we are surprised to see a mountain meadow on the lake shore, a little way off the road. We follow the scree path there. It turns out that the meadow belongs to a guesthouse. I track down the owner and we agree on a price. A steep descent leads down to the meadow. We set up camp between a few old trees. We spend two days by the lake, chilling out and recharging our batteries for the adventures ahead.
Translated from German with the help of AI.
Next part: Stranded at Lake Iskanderkul
Previous part: Turning onto the Silk Road: Tashkent and Samarqand
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