05
Bartang valley + Jizeu
2 days
On the map, Khijez appears to be a stone's throw from Rushon. Unfortunately, it turns out to be a 2-hour drive. We cannot find a marshrutka going into the Bartang Valley so we have to accept our host's expensive offer. The road has only been open since yesterday. For 2 weeks the road was buried under stones washed down by the spring rain.
The Bartang Valley looks like an idyllic place with its icy blue river cutting through the grey mountains. We drop off our backpacks in Khijez, drive back to the bridge leading to Jizeu and start our hike in the Jizeu Valley.
After 2 hours, we see the first cows. A sign of life. And not long after two angry dogs announce our arrival in Jizeu village. We have tea and soup in one of the guesthouses in the village. The lady of the house tells us her husband is selling potatoes and doing groceries in Rushon. Life along the lake looks peaceful but tough.
The valley is reminiscent of the Shire. We lose track of time and it is not until 16:30 that we start our walk down. The Bartang Valley, meanwhile, is in shadow. Another 9 km to Khijez, and a podcast in our ears helps for morale. A little later, we manage to hitch a ride in an old van full of bags.
The next day we take it easy and wander around the beautiful blossoms in Khijez. We overestimate the number of cars still driving out of the valley around 11 o'clock. Since we encountered 5 cars on the road the day before, we are sure it will be easy to find a car to Rushon. Wrong. With all our belongings, we hike towards Rushon. 9 km later we take a break at the bridge that leads to Jizeu. We realize most cars probably leave the valley early in the morning and return in the evening. We still have another 20 km to go until we are in Rushon.
Suddenly we see a cloud of dust in the distance and a yellow truck appears. The truck driver stops and nods that we can get in. High up in the big truck we realize how dangerous the road really is. The part that was affected by a landslide slopes down towards the river and the driver is visibly relieved when he got us past it alive and well.
His truck has seen better days. The windows can no longer be closed, there is no radio or air conditioning, the door handle has to be clicked open with a screw. This ride has done even more damage. We hobble on all the way to Khorog. Not infrequently, I fly off my seat. Pain on my shoulder from carrying my heavy backpack converts to pain from desperately clutching the door.