A bright morning sun woke us up early and encouraged us to dip our buttcheeks in the river once more. We abandoned our spot and walked upstream, dove in the brown Creek head first and floated back to our hammocks the way ducklings float carelessly towards their moms. Only 10 minutes on the road we met a cycler coming from the opposite direction. "The Pamir was cold, but it's warming up quite a bit by now, you'll be fine!" She reassured us. We asked some Tajiks for directions, and they always seem to think were going the right way. Soon we were 5km off course, so we turned back and started the expected climb. We sat out the searing heat of the midday sun under a tree when an old lady came to accompany us, handing out orders to her descendants. They soon returned with chai, floorbeds to lay on, pillows, bread and big plate of plov - the works. We repaid her some bottles of perfume we found in Dushanbe, accompanied by some respectful bows of gratitude. A quick repair session later we were ready to brave the searing heat. After getting through an overconfident sprinty start we passed out under a tree. As soon as our blood cooled down to a boiling temperature, we slowly made our way up the endlessly long mountain pass, sweating like showers. The road was in bad shape and some parts were completely destroyed. Luckily, German and Chinese strangers cheered us on and provided us with energy drinks and water when we needed it most. Also the summerscented blossoms and flowers eased the pain. And the dazzling scenery of course. beautiful. Just like Belgium, a beautiful city. We've been there once. At the summit we had to make our way through herds of sheep and goats and sometimes a cow would simply not move causing passing cars to wait while we laughed and caught our breaths. We soon found a spot at the edge of a steep cliff, because we like to live and most of all sleep on the edge. *Spoiler Alert* We're talking Lion King Mufasa death scene style cliffs here, just so you know.