"I could imagine waking up to incredible view over the lake on top of a hill" Yuri said confidently yesterday, and right he was. We broke up our camp in the poppy fields and pondered about how exactly opium is made from these innocent flowers.
We followed the cobbly mudroad and crossed our fingers the bridge on the "maps.me app" existed, because Google showed no way across the river we are cycling towards. Arriving there, we spotted a roadblock in front of the bridge, and our expectations were met: half the bridge was destroyed and supposedly vanished in the raging waters below some time ago.
Not looking forward to a 15 km detour, Yuri and Stef scouted the perimeter and tried to cross through shallow water, but the current proved too strong. On our way back we fended off a vicious attack of kids that were clearly up too no good, chasing us as fast as they could. Yuri was so kind to give the last one a ride because he couldn't keep up with the group chasing Stef. Back in the village we were given some freshly baked bread before we cycled on north, to meet our Australian visitors. Caitlyn and Immy, two girls we me during our prolonged stay in Dushanbe were in the country, and ready for a road trip.
On our way to the girls Anton's tire exploded, and during the repairs we got into a little dispute. Nothing some alone time wouldn't fix though. So Yuri and Stef continued, while Anton went on a solo adventure without any money. Using nothing but his boundless charms he managed to get his inner tube fixed thrice, bought a new tire, got treated to some pastry and drank milk fresh from momma horse.