Connecting the Dots

Lines on the map. Lines that penetrate seemingly impenetrable mountains. I’m fascinated by them. When I started exploring trekking routes in the Pamirs back in 2009 the best available topographical maps were Soviet era maps, that luckily someone took the effort to scan and publish on some obscure website. At the time I would digitally stitch these maps together, print them and laminate them. In this day and age, we are spoiled for choice. In recent years mapping applications popped up like mushrooms, riding the wave of the increased popularity of outdoor activities like hiking, biking and trail running. However, using those apps for mapping trekking routes in one of the most remote mountain ranges on the planet seemed a little ambitious.

Short recce hike in the Duzakhdara Valley. Picture Jan Bakker

During one of the Covid lockdowns in 2020 I started working on an idea I had for long time. Connecting trekking routes throughout Tajikistan to create a long-distance hiking trail, the Pamir Trail. I had been researching routes for the Cicerone guidebook Trekking in Tajikistan for a number of years and creating a thru-hike seemed like a logical next step. Tajikistan is one of the most mountainous nations on the planet with a whopping 93% considered mountain terrain. For millennia shepherds have carved out an extensive network of pathways that connect valleys and mountain ranges.

Peaceful Duzakh Village. Picture Eilian Huisman

After a spectacular drive on the Pamir Highway our recce team is dropped at the bottom of the Duzakhdara Valley. A local Pamiri friend chuckles when we share our plan to explore this particular valley as it is translated as “the valley of hell”. On the map it doesn’t look all too bad and it would make the perfect connection between the Bartang and Wakhan valleys, stitching up 15 stages in the southern part of the Pamir Trail. We spend the night in Duzakh, a sweet little village at 3300 metres. Fall has arrived and the leaves of the birch trees are vibrant yellow. It’s a stark contrast with the earthy colours of the mountains around us. This is the last settlement we will see for the next eight days. Our route traverses a part of the Shugnan Range from west to east, a remote part of the Pamirs with a host of 5000m+ peaks. We are here to recce two high mountain passes we know very little about. The use of high-resolution satellite images and open-source maps gives us an idea what the terrain might look like. Still, rivers could be too big to cross, pathways may have been swept away by landslides or the pass may be impassable.

Excellent trail high above the Duzakh River. Picture Eilian Huisman

The first stretch of the valley of hell is not a hell at all. The trail is marvelous, winding its way high above the valley floor. The side valleys on the opposite side reveal glaciated giants, each one reaching easily over 5000m in altitude and likely unclimbed. We pitch our tents on the sandy shores of a small glacial lake, despite the bear pawprints. In the late afternoon, when the sun almost touches the ridgelines, we spot a cloud of dust in the distance. A herd of Ibex is plunging down an impossibly steep gully, not bothered by the boulders that are dislodged in the process. This valley is wild!

How desolate can a landscape get? Picture Eilian Huisman

The approach of the Duzakhdara Pass, our main objective for this expedition, runs through a seemingly endless U-shaped valley. The only living creatures here are ourselves and a massive herd of yaks, with a very agitated alpha male bull. It is throwing some charging moves at us, prompting us to make a d-tour behind a small ridge, out of sight. A vague path continues along a crystal-clear stream all the way to top of the pass. On the southern horizon looms the final frontier of the Pamir Trail, the Shakhdara Range with Pik Engels (6507m) and Pik Karl Marx (6723m) dominating the skyline. A small dip in the range marks the Vrang Pass, the final hurdle to the terminus of the trail at the Afghan border. The descent looks easy and I know we have succeeded in finding the missing link of the southern stretch of the Pamir Trail.

Duzakhdara Pass baby! 4400m and pretty epic views. Picture Jan Bakker

We’re headed east now towards another unnamed and unmapped pass of almost 5000m high. This pass could serve as a route variation in case the main route becomes impassable. The trail ascends up the vast high-altitude desert of the Murghab Plateau. The land is arid with snowcapped peaks, deep blue lakes and hardly any people. The altitude doesn’t drop below 3500m and at night it is bitterly cold. We chose to do this trip in September, weather wise possibly the most stable month of the year in the Pamirs. It’s also the month that night temperatures decrease dramatically. The stark surroundings of our camp are somewhat unsettling and makes us feel vulnerable. It’s our first night above 4000m and the mercury has plummeted to a bone chilling -10 Celsius, inside the tent. In the morning, the inner tent is plastered in a crust of ice. Nobody’s making a move until the morning sun hits the tent.

Checking the map. Picture Eilian Huisman

Up till now the mapping app has shown dotted lines we could follow. Now, we’re about to enter a valley with no hiking routes marked and an unnamed pass of 4770m high. The topo map shows contour lines, a few mountain lakes and glaciers. We’ll rely on these features to navigate and make the crossing of that pass. The highest lake at the foot of the pass, Oqkul, looks brilliant and we decide to set up camp for a couple of nights to explore the area. We have our eyes on a 5300m high peak, with what seems like a doable approach. As we get closer, we realise that the climb to the final ridge is steep with loose, rotten rock. Not worth it. In front of us is a long glacier that winds its way up to another high ridge. That seems much more feasible and attractive.

Walking along the shores of Turumtaikul at 4200m. Picture Jan Bakker

Out of the blue Kim, probably our strongest team member, asks me whether I’m ok. I have been moving very slowly this morning, and not feeling fit at all. I’ve been pushing away the fatigue by simply denying it, but being confronted by Kim’s question I realise that four weeks in the Pamirs has started to take its toll. The honest answer is that I’m not ok. I turn back as the rest of the team shuffles up the glacier. I stumble back to our camp, crash inside my tent and allowing my body to surrender to the fatigue.

The highest camp at Oqkul (4350m) and the 4770m pass in the background. Picture Jan Bakker

After a 13-hour night in the sleeping bag I feel a bit better, psyched for the grand finale. The pass looks fairly easy, despite the lack of trails. It’s a long day to our final destination, a desert settlement called Bulunkul. This is officially the coldest inhabited place in Central Asia with a recently recorded low of -65 Celsius. After an easy climb we reach the top of the pass. We look across the endless desert plain of the Murghab Plateau with a distinct white pyramid poking out on the horizon. That must be Kongur, an almost 8000m high peak in Chinese Xinjiang and the eastern boundary of the Pamirs. We did it. We found a second hiker’s passage between the Bartang and the Wakhan valleys, once more connecting the dots of another section of the Pamir Trail.

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