Distance: 209 miles – Travelling Time: 10:10 – 19.15 – Temperature range: 3 – 16°C

The Parmir Mountains bordering Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan

We had now all agreed to operate on Beijing time. Or so we thought! Murray and I were up early in readiness for a ‘border day’ knowing that exporting the car out of China would take some time and we wanted to be at the Chinese customs office before it closed for the three hour lunch break. Having arranged to meet and set off shortly after 0800 there was no sign of David and it was still pitch-black outside, and rather miserably, pouring with raining. This put pay to our plan to visit Shipton’s Arch, a magnificent natural rock arch as tall at the Empire State Building an only known to the outside world since 2000, on route to the border at Irkeshtam.

The export procedure was to be as challenging as the import procedure but we were ready for anything – except for our guiding driver taking extra time to find and fill his car with LPG just as we arrived at the port. Somewhat frustratingly this squeezed our time and we had 45 minutes to carry out the export checks and paperwork. David had left us in Kashgar and handed us over to a gentle young Uyghur to see us through to the border at Irkeshtam. With Murray’s persuasive manner and the guide’s translation, combined with the desire of the mostly charming customs and emigration officials desires to knock off for lunch, we made it through ten minutes after the official closing time. Phew!

Snaking up to the border

Queues of lorries we cheekily jumped!

Still with another 160km to go through bleak coal mining lands to get to the actual border with Kyrgyzstan our anxiety that we might yet be held up at the further two checkpoints had not abated. We had our passports scanned yet again ‘for our safety’, our Uyghur driver had to be granted permission to see us through to the border and we were trying to beat the queue of lorries to the border crossing so that we could get through and into Kyrgyzstan before the light began to fade. All this took time.

In actuality we were allowed to jump ahead of the lorries and had 15 minutes to spare before the border reopened after the ubiquitous three-hour lunch break. Now we had to work our way through the Kyrgyz customs procedure. With the requisite paperwork handed over we said goodbye to our guide and his driver and launched unaccompanied into a new regime.

The procedure was much less daunting and the officials somewhat more relaxed although officious. Our diplomatic passports helped ease the transition and within 45 minutes we were allowed to cross into Kyrgyzstan – although our passports has been caught up with a group of German tourists’ and we had to chase them down to retrieve them at the penultimate immigration checkpoint!

Then we were off and away. It was very liberating to be free of the bureaucracy and the ever watchful eye of the State. The scenery changed immediately. Great rolling hills of tundra bordered by the Pamir Mountains. The air was fresh and this was big country. We climbed high up on to the Parmir Highway on to pretty good tarmac-ed roads with very little if any traffic. There was the occasional herder on horseback and the odd ancient chugging former Soviet lorry. Other than that we had the road pretty much to ourselves – and the bus of German tourists.

We made it to Sary Tash and then had to work out how to find accommodation for the night. Sary Tash is a small settlement of a scattering of about 80 dwellings in view of the Parmirs. It is utterlt remote. Kyrgyzstan has no hotels in the rural areas but operates community based tourism (CBT) in the form of registered guest houses. By utter chance while looking for someone that David had recommended (who was away at a wedding) we found Ainura, a beautiful lady who spoke superb English and just so who happened to have room for us and could offer us dinner. Joy!

With the arrangements made we decided to head back out of the village for half an hour to have tea on a hill top as the sun set. It was heavenly, with the rolling hills and views of the snow covered mountains bordering Tajikistan.

We headed back and found Guest House Muras, a simple yet welcoming newly built yellow house, warm and bright and immaculate, run by Ainura and her two sisters. It was perfect. We had a spacious room, hot and cold running Wifi and great company in the form of other guests at supper; Jarda a Czech cyclist who’s partner had fallen foul of some bad plov and remained in Dushanbe, and Paul who ran an adventure travel agent from Gloucestershire with his partnering agent from Bishkek, the capital.

We all settled down after supper to fulfil our Internet needs. A bit of a sad indictment of our time but we’d had great chats and we all wanted to let our loved ones know we were safe and sound in this rather remote and unknown part of the modern world.