Pamir Highway Lucky Strike – Part I: From Dushanbe to Ishkashem
"8 AM at Taxi to Pamir." — we agreed with Linda the night before we started our incredible adventure on Pamir highway. I’d first encountered Linda through Trojan, a musician from Dushanbe who hosted me in his place. Trojan had recently moved out of his old apartment, which had been torn down due to the city's construction boom in the centre. Dushanbe, once home to Soviet-era buildings, was rapidly being replaced by high-rise developments. Trojan’s new home, a unique Soviet-era structure designed by Armenian architects, stood out from the rest. It was in this building where Linda and I shared breakfast, and where the plan for our Pamir Highway adventure took root. Trojan's cat witnessed it all (Sadly, Trojan tells me she passed away recently).
We’d agreed to start on July 1st, after I return from a hiking trip in the Fann Mountains, north of Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan.
Sipping on tea in Trojan's home, with his cat cozied up in my lap, suspiciously staring at something
Taxi Pamir
Taxi Pamir is a station near Dushanbe airport, a hub where travelers heading east toward Pamir or even on to Kyrgyzstan can find a ride. Taxis range from private cars that will accompany you for days, to shared rides where passengers split the cost. Linda and I were looking to haggle big or go home. To give you a sense of cost, an American couple had hired a taxi for a week for 1200 USD, while a pair of Russian scientists embarking on a two-week trek, including a stay at Sarez Lake, paid 3500 USD.
Our budget approach led to an unexpectedly adventurous and fulfilling experience. "Oh my god, we are so lucky!" became the phrase we uttered most often as we encountered one stroke of good fortune after another.
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A Lucky Start
Our first stroke of luck came with the taxi ride from Dushanbe. I would describe it as a local version of "Blablacar" car pooling but without any app. Our driver, alongside a woman sitting in the front seat, were a couple from the Pamir region. They were heading to Khorog to reunite with their family after 10 months apart. They had extra seats in the back and wanted to recover some of the cost, so Linda and I jumped on board, embarking on a 16-hour drive and paid 400 somoni per person (approximately 35 EUR).
On our first pit-stop in Qalai Qumb, having a blast; The couple from Khorog helping Linda fix her Birkenstock that has started falling apart (at the time of writing this, she already left Italy for Senegal, Africa adventures).
Along the way, we stopped to stock up on food and water at a local market, grabbed lunch at a roadside restaurant in Qalai Qumb, and waited for 2-3 roadworks to clear. Luckily, the roadwork delays were brief. Other travelers had reported waits of up to 10 hours due to landslides, but for us, the wait was a maximum of 30 minutes.
The atmosphere in the car was fantastic as we learned more about each other. Farangis, the wife, spoke very good English, while her much younger husband—whom she had met on Tinder after divorcing her first husband—didn’t speak any English. They both enjoyed hearing about our solo travel adventures, and found our habit of snacking on raw carrots amusing (a food the locals use exclusively cooked in dishes such as plov).
As the drive continued, I had one of those "AHA moments". Farangis and her husband opened my eyes to a new aspect of Pamiri culture—one where women are empowered and have equal rights to men. I had initially assumed a more traditional structure, but my perception was shattered in the best way possible.
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A Generous Invitation
Since Linda and I were traveling without fixed accommodation plans and improvising along the way, we were incredibly grateful when Farangis invited us to stay with her family in Khorog. (This came after a little nudge from Linda, who mentioned that we didn’t have a place to stay and asked if Farangis knew of any options.) Linda was particularly excited about the opportunity to experience local family life firsthand.
A family portrait in the garden after day one; a morning shot with Farangis’s grandfather, who reminded me of my own grandfather, who passed away a few years ago; and freshly picked strawberries and apricots from the garden, paired with local bread and boiled eggs for breakfast. When you consider that we were complete strangers to these people, with no obligation for them to take us in, let alone feed us, plus take into account that we were traveling in the poorest country in central Asia, this level of welcome, generosity, and trust is truly next level.
Farangis’ home in Khorog was a generational home where her grandfather lived in a house on the same land as her mother, who had recently returned from Moscow after two decades of working in a pizza restaurant. She had come back to care for her aging father. This arrangement was part of a broader cultural tradition in the Pamir region, where grandparents commonly raise their grandchildren while the parents work in distant cities.
During our stay, we learned that many Pamiri families escape the intense summer heat—sometimes soaring to 50°C—by retreating to the cooler Pamir Mountains. It was an eye-opening experience, especially as young Pamiris, fluent in English, eagerly shared insights into their culture and way of life.
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A Magical Night
Our first night was spent on a traditional tepchan—a wooden platform used for both dining and sleeping during the summer months. Surrounded by towering mountains, with the soothing sound of a nearby spring, and enveloped by the warmth of Pamiri hospitality, it felt as though we had stepped into a living storybook.
Inside the traditional Pamiri Chid House filled with Zoroastrian symbolism; The garden with Pamir mountain views; Tepchan — a wooden platform used for both dining and sleeping during the summer months — where we spent the night in the open air.
The evening took an even more enchanting turn when Farangis led us inside her grandfather’s home—a traditional Pamiri chid house. These homes are steeped in history, symbolizing the region's Zoroastrian heritage, something I had come across during my pre-trip research. Standing there, in that ancient space, I felt an unexpected and profound connection to the universe. It was as if destiny had gently guided us there, marking the start of a series of serendipitous experiences.
The family welcomed us with incredible generosity, serving a tasty dinner followed by a breakfast with organic fruits from the garden. Over tea with Farangis’ grandfather, memories of my own late grandfather resurfaced, and the emotions I had been holding back finally flowed freely. In that moment, surrounded by strangers who felt like family, I realized just how connected our human experiences truly are.
Leaving the beautiful garden at Farangis's home in Khorog after Night 1, we set off on a 30-minute walk across town to a hitchhiking spot, hoping to catch a ride to Eshkashem. The outside temperature is 38°C, and I’m carrying a heavy backpack (I'll never learn).
Onward to Ishkashim and Beyond
After Khorog, Linda and I decided to hitchhike, and luck once again smiled on us. We got a lift within an hour. The driver was a jovial man traveling with his three brothers and cousin, and they were headed south into Pamir for a holiday. Their car, filled with “bioly chai” ("white tea", meaning vodka) and Russian pop music, made for a lively ride. Along the way, we stopped near the Afghan border at the famous Ishkashim market, where Afghanis cross the Panj River to trade goods with Tajiks every week.
Within an hour of hitchhiking in Khorog, we got lucky and caught a ride with a group of brothers and cousins heading to a place near Ishkashem.
A selection of pirated CDs with local music played in the car’s disc system, while the front passengers, with the help of an outsider, tried their best to make it work.
We made a stop at a spring where the group eagerly filled their water bottles, praising its medicinal properties. Unfortunately, the water didn’t sit well with Linda, and she ended up with an upset stomach. Thankfully, I had packed a variety of medicines, and one of them did the trick!
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A Kind Geologist’s Help
After our ride with the brothers, a geologist in a 4x4 offered us another lift. He sped confidently over challenging roads, and when we reached Ishashim, he advised us that our next destination—Bibi Fatima hot springs—would be difficult to reach without a lift. Soon, we were pointed to a truck heading in the right direction. The driver, Alik, initially agreed to take just one of us, but after some persuasion (and more waiting), he allowed both of us to join.
Check out how this journey unfolds in Pamir Highway Lucky Strike — Part II — coming soon. Keep exploring, keep discovering, and keep wandering!
Always in Wonder Loop,
Mirka