In a departure from usual service, I’m publishing my diary from a recent trip to Tajikistan. New installations will be released fortnightly in place of the usual travel articles.
21st August 2026
I just feel really vulnerable. Something I’ve planned for near enough a year is actually happening tomorrow and I feel almost entirely helpless.
The irony of this little green notebook having a world map at the start didn’t pass me by. The “places I want to go” bit actually made me laugh.
I’m fairly sure I still want to go to Tajikistan, I think?
And I think I want to cycle across it still?
I don’t know.
Anyway the flight for Dushanbe is tomorrow and anxiety levels are much higher than normal. In fact I’m basically a nervous wreck.
Quite unusual for me.
There are so many unknowns though. First, I arrive in Tajikistan at 1am. Not ideal.
I don’t really know how to get to Khorog from Dushanbe. Fine, I have a rough idea but nothing is certain.
I should have probably booked two weeks somewhere easy. What’s wrong with Canada? Should have stuck that on the list of places to visit.
Ah well. I think the stuff is nearly packed and hopefully it doesn’t get stuck in Istanbul.
That said, I don’t really know what to pack. I’ve never cycled across a country before. I have packed some stuff. Most probably useless.
I’ve no idea whether energy gels are really necessary in this quantity for example.
One thing which is different is this – I’ve never written a diary before and, frankly, don’t know if I’ll ever be able to read it back again given the state of my handwriting. That last I was as large as the t.
Anyway, here we go. Bring on the Pamir Highway.
If I get there. And if the bike gets there.
22nd August 2026
That was just a knackering day.
Started with London trying its hardest to kick me`. Turns out pushing a full bike box from the Victoria Line to Thameslink isn’t an easy task and I was dripping with sweat by the end. Must have been amusing for the French in St Pancras station.
What made it worse was all the smug people just wheeling their bikes through the station. Each time they would look at me like I was a moron having my bike in a box.
Anyway Thameslink trains (later than intended) and then some pushing at Gatwick completed.
Fair enough to the legend at bag drop who took one look at me and changed my ticket to extra legroom. I didn’t even ask. Nice one Turkish Airlines.
Then the bike was overweight by three kilograms. The box was ripped open and before I knew it I was madly stuffing bits into hand luggage. The box just about squeezed through. I thought I’d never see it again.
Another nightmare at security as I was searched and so was my bag. Turns out bringing a bike chain through may have been an issue, one only enforced because of the hurried box light weighting earlier. Again, just about squeezed through intact and hungry as I hadn’t yet eaten.
Thankfully Pret looked kindly upon me (doubtless looking stressed having had issues at every turn and assuming that my bike would end up in an Istanbul flea market within the week).
They gave me a free croissant. Excellent.
There wasn’t much to report from the first flight other than the Shawshank Redemption is still a great film. Weirdly, the guy next to me was also going to Tajikistan. From Gatwick!
The transfer was also uneventful as I was made to walk the length of Istanbul Airport which, if you haven’t been, is the size of a mid-size town. It took half an hour.
Second flight again uneventful apart from endlessly wondering if the box had made it too.
I did however sit next to a guy from a Belgian diplomatic delegation who was the former consulate general for the Indians in Antwerp. Cue many discussions about Tajikistan and Kashmir. He was a lovely bloke.
Once I was off the plane, the border posts proudly declared “2018 Year of Culture and Handicrafts Tajikistan”. I’ll gloss over the fact this was eight years out of date.
Still, I got through without any issues. I was in!
Was the bike too though? I stood with intention by the oversized baggage belt and eventually a worker climbed through the flaps. I think he said “bike” in Tajik but then definitely made a cycling motion I recognised so I replied with my best “da” and just looked hopeful. Then I waited.
A slightly battered bike box was eventually hauled through the flaps to my delight.
After all that I got ripped off getting a taxi to my hostel and went to bed as soon as I could. The hostel had guns at reception.
Into The Elsewhere 