RESRVOIR ON ROOF OF THE WORLD

Pamir is one of the highest mountain regions on the Earth, in many aspects similar to Tibet, but more isolated and less known to the outer world. It is located in Tadjikistan, a former Soviet republic of Central Asia. There are several 7000-thousanders there, and the average elevation of the Eastern Pamir plateau – high desert – is 4000 m. This land is called Badakhshan – an autonomous region of Tadjikistan with the capital city of Khorog. Badakhshan is bordering with Afghanistan to the South, and with China to the East.

     
...My purpose was to get to Sarez lake – a big high-mountain lake on the altitude of 3300 m above the sea level. The lake was formed by a 1911 earthquake, when a gigantic chunk of a mountain collapsed down the narrow gorge and blocked the river by a nearly 1-km-high dam. As a result, within a few years a crystal blue lake appeared stretching some 80 km East to West. The lake is surrounded by impassable mountain ranges, its shoreline is as steep and impregnable as mountain walls, so there are only a few spots where you can come near water. The depth of the Sarez Lake is approximately 600 m near the natural dam. There are no settlements on Sarez itself, except for a small weather-monitoring station in a remote corner of one of the bays. There have been two villages with a total of about 300 people, but one of them – Usoy – was buried under millions of tons of rock, and another was abandoned and now rests deep underwater.

My route was meticulously marked on the map. I shall take a path from a closest village and ascend to the dam, then walk some 15-20 km along the lake, and then after crossing a pass – reach the road. Looks simple, but it is not. You can access Sarez by feet only (there are no roads there), and even if you are walking – it is not easy at all – high elevation, steep stony path with occasional climbing and scrambling through the rocks. The whole trip would take two days from the last village, two days on the lake and another three days to get to the road. Aside to this I will have to get to that last village somehow, and get back to civilization in the end, and you cannot plan anything in advance – it is just too far, nobody knows anything about it, and I can only pray and hope that everything works out.

However, the first thing I have to do is fly to Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and have a ride to Osh, Kirghisia. Osh is a transportation hub for Pamir with many trucks going back and forth to bring humanitarian aid to Pamir’s remote villages. Pamir residents live extremely poor – the land is sparse, the soil is stony and dry, the whether is windy and cold except for summer months. When Tadjikistan was one of the Soviet republics, the Center (Moscow) helped this region with basic supplies of grain, salt, sugar etc. Now that there is no more Soviet Union, the same supplies are provided through United Nations, Aga-han Foundation and the Red Cross. Independent Tadjikistan, the poorest of all former Soviet republics in Central Asia, preoccupied with internal politic instability and frequent guerilla outbursts, is incapable of supporting its remote autonomy...

“Pamirsky trakt” – a road connecting Dushanbe, Tadjik capital, and Osh, a small Kirghiz city, – is the only road through Pamir mountains – is open now only from Kirghiz side. To start a trip in Dushanbe is too dangerous because of the constant fights between the authorities and opposition. Osh is a big trade intersection with no political issues. Pamir itself is like an isolated fortress, elevated and inaccessible – surrounded by high mountain ranges with difficult passes – open but for a few months a year. The nature itself makes this region quiet and isolated place far from any turmoil.

A much more realistic problem is drugs. Afghanistan, one of the biggest sources of drugs in the world is very close, and it makes it easy to traffic drugs through this region to Central Asia and further West. It is a secret to no one here that despite all precautions a great deal of narcotics is being smuggled through all check points in the same trucks that deliver grain, sugar and toothpaste. There are also all kinds of stories on corruption and bribery even amongst military and local militia who control the road check-posts.

“Pamirsky trakt” is a neglected and worn down road not being maintained since Gorbachev times. For a mountain road with an so intense traffic of heavy trucks this means – it is in a BAD condition. A dozen of time consuming drug and border check posts, several lengthy passes over 4500 m, bad pavement, shortage of oxygen, old  and unreliable trucks – all these things slow down the trip, which would take 3 to 4 days at best, if there are no landslides or damaged bridges.

It took me just a day to find a ride from Osh. A Kirghis truck driver takes me into his cab for a small cash in Russian rubles – a much harder currency in these lands. It is good to be a driver in Central Asia: means you have a steady income. There used to be a state-owned Pamir cargo company, but now everything is privatized. People have had chance to buy out the trucks and start their own business. Pamir’s Driver gets about US$ 200 per trip to mountains and back. The road is extremely difficult and dangerous, and the trucks are usually in a very poor condition, but still this is a good money comparing to other incomes in local economy. Usually people complain about hardship of life today and say how good it used to be in the good old days. I was helping my Driver Karim to replace a tire which went flat after we entered an unpaved stony section of the road. This tire was worn out to the metal cord and tube. His robe covered with dust, hands black from the engine oil, Karim says: “Before, in Soviet times, the state provided with everything: parts, gas, salaries. Now we have to pay everything from our pocket, and everything for these Russian trucks is of course imported from Moscow. Look at those tires, they cost up to hundred US dollars each, so, see, I need to make how many trips to get new ones?..”

Before winding up to high plateau of the Pamirs we go through Alay valley with enormous body of Lenin peak in front of us. It took me a couple of weeks in Moscow and many phone calls to arrange papers to get access to Pamirs. This is a sensitive border area near China and Afghanistan, still controlled by Russian border troops. So now we pass all the check points smoothly, and whenever I feel suspicious looks, I give presents – my travel magazines, pens and “Camel Trophy” stickers.

The truck labors first serious 4800 m pass Kizyl-Art – the gateway to Pamirs. Instead of green pasture lands of Alay valley Pamir opens now with a lifeless and boundless desert bordered by distant snowy peaks. It is a land of sand and wind on roof of the world – above 4000 m. It’s burnt out by sun, dusty and hostile. Is there life on Mars? The only sign of human presence is a barbed wire fence extending from horizon to a horizon – neutral territory line for the border with China. There are no beautiful mountains, just hills of dyed red and yellow tones. It’s hard to breath here and the headache is intolerable...

Amidst this high desert there is the first Pamir lake Karakul. Its color is unnaturally blue, water is salted with no fish and anything, the temperature is about zero (C) even in the summer. From here my hike starts – I get off the truck, take my backpack and start walking away from the main road along the desolated track towards the mountains in the hazy distance.

This marsian landscape is typical for Eastern Pamir – overwhelmingly empty and striking by its endless spaces and lifelessness. However, while it seems lifeless, it is not: local Kirghis go hunting for big marmots and Marco Polo sheep, and so do wealthy Americans who come here by helicopters and spend big bucks on licensed hunting bringing home enormous horns as a trophy.

It might seem lifeless, but soon I was picked up by a bunch of drunk Kirghys shepherds riding a Russian four wheel drive Niva. Size of 3-door Suzuki Vitara the car was packed with 8 people, so I was the ninth. They were suspicious and a bit hostile at first. I was a stranger walking alone in these remote lands – there are quite a few drug trafficants here trying to smuggle drugs by their own across remote passes.
Follows on – 2 more pages... Thanx.

The tension did not last for too long. After figuring out I was a good guy there was a vodka shot, and I was offered a ride. Local Kirghis people live by herding, hunting and doing trade bringing food and other merchandise from the “mainland”. Many have Russian-made WW2-style all-wheel-drive vehicles, which is a definite sign of prosperity. Kirghis home is ‘yurta’ – nomad’s tent with a wooden frame and felt shell. ‘Yurta’ is usually quite clean and cozy inside with many rug carpets. A small iron stove is used for heating and cooking; dry bush or a dung is used for fuel. There is sheep all around, and a few cows – a daily source of meat and milk. A usual food is milk tee with crumpets, fat sour cream and dry cheese and dry meat. On special occasions, like my visit, there is a meat soup and chunks of meat from the freshly prepared lamb.

Another ride for me the next morning was provided by border troopers who were heading to one of their most distant drug outposts. It’s a good luck, since the passing transportation in this “middle of nowhere” is just nothing but God’s providence. 30 km later the military dropped me off their huge truck, and from now on it is my feet only that will bring me to Sarez lake.

Sarez Lake is a huge fresh water reservoir in the very middle of this remote mountain region. The lake contains about 20 cubic km of water and is blocked by a gigantic stone-drift in its Western corner. The body of water, like a gigantic snake, contours the gorge that once has been a deep and dark canyon of Murgab river – one of the most powerful rivers of the Pamir mountains, and tributary to Pyandj and Amudarya – biggest rivers in Central Asia. Water filtrates through the pile in several spots and cascades down forming a blue crystal transparent river.

There is a big concern that in case of a heavy earthquake this pile might collapse. In this case all of the Sarez lake’s water, kind of suspended now on a high altitude, will break through and cause a disastrous flood in the flatlands of lower Central Asia. Hundreds of villages and small cities will be flooded, and a total of approximately 5 millions of people will suffer a great damage. A small village Barchadiv, just a few km from the pile has a small seismic lab and a number of devices to detect changes in water level of the river down the lake. “We are happy to have jobs here to monitor the situation, says Suleiman, an Engineer at the seismic lab. This is just one of the few places where you can get job. There is no jobs here in this land, all you do is just grow potato and herd sheep.”

50 km by feet and I am in Kudara, a small village, where I was lucky to find a guy who offered me his donkey to carry my luggage. This service would cost me 50 rubles ($7). This is a significant amount of money here, in the interior villages where a teacher has a wage of 15 rubles a month; where a sack of flour cost 100... There are not many ways to earn money: to grow and sell tobacco, to knit and sell socks, etc. It is hard to imagin how poor life is in these villages with just clay houses and wooden boards instead of furniture. Daily meals are identical throughout the whole year – tea and plain bread. Sugar and salt are seldom seen here. Once or twice a year there is a truck with supplies. There are cars and trucks in some of the villages but there was no gas for the last couple of years... Those who have cattle, eat dairy products. Meat is served on special occasions – mainly ‘shorpo’ – a huge dish of lamb soup with potato shared with neighbors and friends. What I couldn’t get used to was a specialty called ‘shirchay’ – greasy salted tea with milk.

The heat of the last weeks melted glaciers and small streams transformed into wild torrents. I walked along the river which was now a scary brown wild roaring mass of water jumping out of its bed. As I crossed a tiny suspended bridge made of two ropes and half-rotten wooden covering, I was thinking, how terrible would it be to fall into this black torrent looking as if it was from the netherworld.

Another guy who helped me was Kurban who I hired to guide me on the last stretch of the path going up to  Sarez lake. Kurban was wearing ‘pekh’ – homemade sheepskin boots, and had a stick with an iron tip – ‘chugurchuk’ – to secure jumps and facilitate scrambling through rocks and slides. Before setting forward I was invited to share ‘shorpo’ meal with the whole village. This was a religious holiday dedicated to ‘Aga-Khan – Imam and live God of all Ismailits’. Pamir peoples profess Ismailism – an Islam offshoot with its own complicated system of ideological and moral principles and traditions. There are roughly 25 million of Ismailits in the World, mostly in mountain areas of Pakistan, Afghanistan, Northern India and in some countries of Africa. Aga-Khan, a Saudi Arabia citizen and one of the richest people in the world, is taking care of the people who call him God: sending humanitarian aid, helping develop agriculture, building bridges and roads.

...The view of Sarez lake is incredible: strikingly blue water and hostile gigantic mountains around. The natural dam is an enormous pile of rocks at the foot of the huge vertical wall that once, before the split, used to be a mountain. Nobody knows what happened here in 1911, but looking at these piles of rocks I think it should have been something disastrous.

The path along the shore was not a peace of cake: a three-hour steep ascent as a workout, and then never ending ‘ovrings’ – hardly seen trail across slides on the mountain slopes. In some of the most dangerous places above crevasses there are some sort of relic board walks – very basic, and looking very unreliable. This was the place where the stick of my guide was very useful. To walk here one has to have an equanimity of a stuntman: one careless move, and you fall down the rocky slope some 200 or 300 m.

The only inhabited place on Sarez lake is the weather-report station Irht. There are three people working here – two Tadjiks and a Russian grandfather Vanya. Grandfather Vanya listens to Russian radio and is informed of all political news from Moscow. His dream is to assemble a small power station – his personal project for the last 10 years of working here as a Meteorologist. His Tadjik colleagues are teasing him saying he’s never going to fill out his dream. In Soviet times there was a helicopter bringing all necessary things for the station from Murgab – a local center and military base in the Eastern Pamir. Now they don’t remember when they have seen it for the last time, maybe two years ago, or more. They have to carry food and other stuff on their backs through all those ‘ovrings’. The closest village on the road is 4 days away from here across the 5000 m pass which is closed for 9 months during the year. In the years of 1913-1914 this trail was used by villagers of Sarez village who were fleeing from the fast expanding lake.

I am going to use this same trail. The pass is called Uhynch – this is my last and the most serious trial. The path is disappearing under rocks, and I have to jump, which takes a lot of efforts on this elevation. The environment changed to a kingdom of rocks, ice and snowy mountains. My route is going along numerous lakes with icebergs in blue waters. The noise of streams and rivers is left behind, here this is an absolute silence. No stranger noises here amongst these icy peaks, nor even the wind comes here...

The only foreign body on this altitude is me. It is only my intermittent breath and heavy steps that distort harmony and quietness of this still nature. Feelings are painful. My mouth is dry and numb. I cannot drink because it gets only worse. I can only force myself to scramble up the rocks thinking that this is the only way back home.

On top of the pass I see a big lake Zoroshkul covered with snow and surrounded by dazzling white peaks. I remember at home I saw this lake on the map thinking it must be truly beautiful – on such elevation. It is very weird though instead, just too high too be beautiful... Greatness and calmness all around, and lack of any moving life – this should be a real roof of the world. There is only skies of incredibly dark blue color and a blinding sun...

Sarez is behind. I am heading down from this icy kingdom – long way back to my city, green forests and so familiar and friendly hills...

Nick Paleo

E-mail: [email protected]