I arrived in Margilan for the third time - I arrived here in August barely able to walk; again in October on my way back to the UK, somewhat better but not tour-fit. Now my back was feeling 95% of it's former self, and I was aching to get going again.
The bike had survived the cold winter, and only a tiny bit of tweaking and oiling was needed (in spite of being in pain last time, I had carefully stored it in the guesthouses basement - cleaning, oiling and wrapping it in polythene), and so now I packed up and hit the road.
My journey took me through the historic city of Kokand, and then onwards and into another new country - Tajikistan. I could have chosen a route solely through Uzbekistan and saved the $50 Tajikistan visa fee, but that would have meant scaling a big mountain pass on day 2, after a near crippling spine injury. Besides, another country is another country!
Riding through these parts at this time of year is mostly a pleasure. The colder days still feel chilly, but not painfully so, just a bit unpleasant, but when the sun comes out, it's beautifully warm, but not too hot to ride, and spring is in full flow with fruit blossom everywhere - particularly apricots - one of the main crops in this area.
Khujand - the second city of Tajikistan is geographically part of the Fergana Valley (the part of Uzbekistan I rode in from), yet it is Tajik speaking. Tajik is basically Farsi - the Persian language that stretches through Iran and Afghanistan; whilst in the Fergana Valley they speak Uzbek - a Turkic language somewhat similar to the many countries stretching from Turkey through to Western China. Although very distinct language groups and people, many aspects of Persian culture cross into the Turkic countries. This is true of the major celebration in these parts - Nowruz, which is celebrated in both Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. I took a test day on the actual day of Nowruz and spent it in Khujand. It was pleasant, but not as colourful as I had expected. I eventually discovered that this was because everyone was saving themselves till a couple of days later when the president would arrive, and then the real celebrations could begin!
I was eager to keep going and not hang around any longer, even for the president, and so it was time to ride onwards and back into Uzbekistan. Or not! Uzbekistan has opened up to tourism hugely in the last 2 years, and now a 30-day visa-free regime is in place in what was recently one of the most closed countries in the world. By far the most convenient border-crossings for me were the one by Bekobod and a few smaller ones immediately to the West of there. These were bilateral crossings (ie for Uzbeks and Tajiks only), but since the relaxation of visa restrictions, I figured that may no longer be the case. I asked several Uzbek and Tajik officials and called government departments. I got a mixture of answers - "not possible", "of course it is now possible", "don't know", so in the end decided to go for it. The ride out of Khujand was on a good road, and the wind was behind me. I covered a lot of miles in a couple of hours to reach the border in good time, sadly to discover there is no change to the border regime. Had I not taken this risk, I would have cut 40km off today, but had it paid off I would have saved around100kms - sometimes it's worth taking the risk, even if you fail. I was therefore in Tajikistan another night.
I spent the night in a very basic place closer to thethe bor crossing at Oybek, which was straight-forward, as was my ride the next few days through Guliston and Jizzak and onwards to Samarkand. It turns out that had I gone directly to the Oybek border and crossed yesterday, the town in Uzbekistan, where I had a small guesthouse marked on my map, actually did not have any accommodation, so I would have been caught out yesterday evening with another 100km to the next hotel - my failed risk actually saved me from a bigger fail! Those of you who come here just to read of how hard a time I'm having (even I think my blogging is generally more interesting when I have a good disaster story to tell) will be disappointed to hear that it's all been going smoothly! Having spent a couple of months here last year, I'm familiar with local customs and practices; and whilst recovering in the UK, I learned enough Russian to make daily essentials much easier.
It was a similar story on the road from Samarkand to Bukhara, where I met my first few fellow long-distance cycle tourers of this leg, heading the opposite way - Jacob, a lone American cyclist and Valentine, a French rider (whose Ozzy riding partner had also whizzed by). Neither had seen any touring cyclists going the same direction as me - it seems East to West is the real rebellious way to do it!!
It was lovely to have another chance to gawp at the monumental architecture of the Timurid dynasty in Samarkand and Bukhara, and mop up one or 2 smaller sights that I missed on my previous trip (by train) to these parts.
At the same time I lost one of the main motivations for going on this trip. To my left, whilst leaving Samarkand, rose the Northern outliers of the Pamir mountain range. The frontier of one of the 4 main sub-groups of the great Himalaya range. And then they were gone. The Andes are also counted amongst the worlds high mountains, and arguably the highest Antarctic mountains join that elite club, but from here on, back to the UK there is nothing to compare in size to these great ranges. I have always been fascinated by mountains, and one of my desires on this trip was to explore the greatest ranges on Earth. Because of the spine injury, I did not ride across the Pamir Highway, instead choosing to drop down through the Fergana valley, but I will be back. It's the kind of trip that will fit perfectly into a School Summer Trip (the best perk of being a school teacher!), both in terms of length of time needed, and best season to visit. So it's hopefully au revoir rather than farewell to the high Pamir Mountains.
My descent from the high mountains really started in Kyrgyzstan, and the people populating the towns in the Fergana valley and other areas all the way through to here really mark a shift in the cultural landscape. Many things about the Central Asian countries are similar - the fairly limited but tasty food options are virtually the same; they share a recent history of liberation from Soviet oppression; all share majority, relatively moderate Islam; but at the same time each of the 'Stans has a different feel.
To me, whilst all these countries feel more Central Asian than anything else, Kazhakstan is the most Russian, Kyrgyzstan leans a bit more East Asian/Mongolian, and as I cross Uzbekistan I feel as though I'm culturally going more towards the Middle East, as I track West. Of course the open continental nature of the area has meant that warmonger after warmonger, and empire after empire have swallowed up vast tracts of Central Asia and left their mark - the Persian Empire, the Greeks under Alexander the Great, various Arabian Expansions, the Khans from Mongolia, the Soviet Union, ancient Chinese and in it's own way modern China have all extended their grasp across these lands, and they have all left their mark. The most significant empire ruled directly from Central Asia was the Timurid one and this is certainly the most celebrated one in Uzbekistan. However, as I pass into Persian speaking lands, desert landscapes start to be hinted at on the horizon, and soaring minarets and monumental mausoleums and madrassas prod the skylines of the towns and cities, there is a strong feeling of One Thousand and One Nights, filling me with excitement about seeing yet another culture.
And before anyone tries to correct me on the differences between Persia and Arabia - yes I know Tajikistan and parts of Uzbekistan are Persian speaking, and 1001 Nights is Arabian, but there are those that believe it was originally a Persian story. Either way, both are Middle Eastern cultures with many similarities, and that is the world I feel I am just starting to approach now, as China's influence, the horse culture of the Mongol hordes, Russian Slavic influence, and various Himalayan cultural influences start to melt away and carpet shops and bazzars called "Ali Baba's" start to appear on every other street corner. As I've blogged about before, one of the take-away memories for me from this whole trip is the excitement and interest at seeing the in-between places - the places where one major world culture gradually shifts and changes over geographical space into the next.
Good luck, Steve!
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