After the most quiet and cosy night in the small two person tent, we enjoyed the silence during our meager breakfast. We didn't quite dare to drink the melted brownish snow, so with water supplies running low we continued our way on the Pamir Plateau.
The desolate plains were covered in white spots, not because of snow but because of salt. Sky blue lakes popped up in the distance, and we cycled past, waiting patiently for a stream with some clean drinking water, but none appeared.
Eventually we were given some cooked snow water that tastes like sheep or goats by the friendly family that inhabits the sole house we encountered on the Plateau, but we avoided drinking it for as long as we could. Salvation came in the form a levitating water bottle not long after. It was flying at the same speed of the driving car it was hovering close to and we eagerly accepted the bottle from the hands of a Dutch Overland travelling couple braving the mountains in the opposite direction. We thanked them for fulfilling this particularly important work of mercy and not long after a Swedish couple stopped to say hello too. Whether their small improvised Saab with extra built In bedroom survived the Pamir is still a mystery, but if it came this far we reckon it must have.
After crossing an English cycler we were alone again until Alichur, where Stef decided he needed a day to get rid of his everlasting stomach bug. The Pamir is desolate, and the only people we meet are either overlanders or long distance cyclers. We felt as if we are entering the Realm of the world cyclers, right here in the middle of nowhere.
Before taking a taxi ride to Murghab Stef and Anton got the opportunity to ride a yak. We mounted the beast only briefly, but soon decided this animal was being held there against its will by means of nosering. We thanked the farmer for allowing us to do so, but prefer to watch them run free in the snow.