In the summer of 2012 I was uncaused to join a bold climbing expedition in the north of
Afghanistan. The plan was to enter via peaceful Tajikistan to travel familiar roads through
the mountain town of Korog where I would cross the border. It wasn't to be so simple.
About to set off from the capital Dushanbe, I was met by stories from those fleeing the
violence in Korog. People spoke of tens of dead but were hopeful that a ceasefire called by the
Agra Khan would hold. In the Badakshan Autonomous Region, tensions have remained high since a
bloody civil war ended over two decades past. As it would later transpire, violence had been
precipitated by the assassination of Major General Abdullah Nazarov of the local Tajik KGB branch.
The lucrative smuggling of heroin and cigarettes close to the border town is controlled by a
delicate interplay between corrupt officials and the local mafia. On this occasion, speculation
suggests that Nazarov may have asked for one payment too many leading to his murder and the
movement of hundreds of Tajik army forces into the Badakshan region. Two days after the assassination,
the stage was set and in the following days of fighting, credible estimates put the eventual
death toll at approximately 140 killed. Of course from Dushanbe, I just arrived to start my expedition.
I wanted to fly my paraglider and we had no news whatsoever of what had happened.
Yeah, go for it. Yeah, finish? No, finish.
And we've met a lot of people who have come from Karog and have some very funny stories about it.
To be honest, all the information at the moment is so, so mixed. It's really hard to know what to do.
But I think you can see I'm tired and I smell and I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow.
And I don't think Karog is safe. So maybe I will go to the bar time valley, but I don't think I can
make contact with the team, which is really annoying. After getting 50 kilometers from Karog,
I changed my plans. I went to the north of the country and started in the new Vol Bivouac route.
So here we are at day one, flat six in the morning. I walked up last night.
I'm quite nervous, actually. The Zaroshan Valley runs about 200 kilometers to the right.
And the Uzbek border is about two or three kilometers this way along the top of the ridge.
It's going to be an interesting day's time. I've been looking at this route for years.
It was 500 kilometers of mountains towards the east. Even by 12 o'clock, there was no
cumulus. The air was dry, dusty and inverted.
So that's pretty much the end of the first day.
16 kilometers.
There's some guys behind me from the army over here.
I managed to come down in a village which had an army base, so I'm really not looking
forward to seeing these guys.
I spent 10 very stressful hours with these guys in the KGB.
They thought I'd come from Uzbekistan illegally. I was very, very relieved when I eventually was let go.
With the thought of what had just happened still etched on my mind, I was keen to walk up
into the hills. Above the town of Aini, I pushed up steep slopes where a young boy
kept company only by his flock of goats called me over offering tea and bread. Clearly concerned,
the boy offered yet more bread and sweets, before scraping some ice from a nearby snow bank to make
tea. A few recycled tea leaves complimented the colour of dirt from the ice, but full to the
brunt of sugar it was just what this Englishman needed. After showing him a few photos of what
I've been doing, I wondered if his parents would ever believe the story about who came to tea.
I continued onwards, higher into the fresh air to sleep next to an abandoned madrasa.
I watched the sun go down, dreaming of the possibilities for the next days flying.
So last night it rained, but I have to say this wing is both probably one of the better sleeping
bags that I've had, and it did keep me perfectly dry.
Woohoo! That's nice.
It's about five o'clock. I've done the first hundred K.
I wish I gave more credit to the strangers that welcome me into their home.
Sometimes it feels wrong to pull out the camera.
They fed me well, sent me on my way, but didn't quite understand why I wanted to leave this
paradise so early in the morning. That down there is a village I stayed at, and they don't
really understand that I have to leave early in the morning. It's just gone seven, and as you can
see it's a beautiful day in the mountains, but I'm already sweating hard. It's pretty hot already.
I've got a long way to go up before I can start.
So
so
so
I think I flew for about three hours today, 80 K.
I also had a really big front tour today,
completely horseshoeed. One side opened, spun me around 180 degrees.
A lot of what brings me back to these mountains is the generosity of the people.
There was no way I was going to refuse tea. Anyway, he had fun reading the map,
not understanding the relationship between the places printed on it.
So
my
but I will fight this stranger that you should be here so I won't be over tonight tomorrow.
So
so
but here I am down in a village just just to the west of Jogotov, so it's um it's going to be a
special walk to civilization.
Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. This guy walking around shaking hands with everyone,
but he's got an army uniform. He arrested me, but at least he fed me, gave me someone to stay in
there. Again, I was soon on my way.
So I'm coming up for 10 o'clock and there's
no acumen whatsoever. I can't even behind me about 25 kilometers that way.
It's a beautiful range of mountains which you can't see because the air is so dirty.
If you hadn't already guessed it, those mountains which I'm pointing to are the ones that I just flew
down from. The ones where I got arrested at the foot. I'd walked two days to get up here,
and I now had had to walk up the side of this mountain simply to cross the river on the other
side.
I couldn't actually get a bridge over to this side of the river, so today after walking about
a kilometer up the mountain, I just flew straight over, and that's today.
I don't know if you can see, but just above my head is Malsimoni, 7,400 meters.
I've come up the mountain today. It's only 10 o'clock, and I think it's partly to do with the
fact there was some rain last night, but there's cloud everywhere, and so early in the day I'm
reluctant really to take off into this. This is a reality of all bib work sometimes, waiting and
waiting, waiting. There's a bear in the back wind!
So last night it rained really, really hard again.
I don't know what day it is, but it's day three on this same bit of mountain for me.
And like I say, I'm running out of food, so I think this is naturally the end of the road,
unless I can get over that pass tomorrow, today.
So
you know I think I've got it.
Check that out!
So
so
end of the road. So tight.
So
so
