Tajikistan is a beautiful emerald of a country that was once part of the USSR, squished between Afghanistan, China, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan; a country awash with turquoise rivers, green pastures and towering mountains. As you can imagine the varied influences make Tajikistan a mouthwatering smash up of cultures and people. The Tajik language for example is Persian but written with the Russian, Cyrillic, alphabet. However, Tajik is only one of over 9 languages spoken in the region with Russian being the preferred language for business and government.
Fourteen of us arrived here with the aim of running across the country; up the Bartang Valley, from Afghanistan to the Chinese and Kyrgyzstan borders. Just under 300km. A route into the unknown.
14 years ago, I was on my bike in Kyrgyzstan having cycled here from London on my sturdy ‘Long Haul Trucker’ bicycle named Shirley. Shirley and I were hanging out in Saritash, a town that is the crossroads of the Silk Route. My intention as to take the left turn and head into China, finishing in Southern India where I was due to start teaching at a school. But the right turn pulled me in, it led to the Pamir
