Having been disappointed with the lack of burgers last night there were rumours of burgers for breakfast to make up for it. The plan fell apart when the hostel suggested they served breakfast, which meant the plans for a burger filled breakfast were put on the back burner. The breakfast wasn't a burger but it was a couple of fried eggs, which was fine. After breakfast the lion cubs left to find someone to fix their punctured tyre, while Chris stalled trying to escape the campsite via a slight incline - which is probably an indication of what the problem is, and not an indication of Chris driving ability. Before we left for the highway we stopped to pick up our fix of ice-cream from our new dealer in the local corner shop.
As we followed the procedure from previous days and followed the single road through the region, we passed a load of bridges over the river. The bunch of bridges were less of bridges and more of collection of sticks stuck on ropes across rapids. Needless to say we couldn't resit pointlessly crossing one, and pulled over at the next available spot. After messing around on a bridge that failed in the opinion of two civil engineers for awhile and getting a group photo, we carried on to find some lunch.
The highway was going well. Well is a strong word but it sure was going past us. The Pamir Highway has a selection of notable points where the altitude is high enough that is worth the cost of a sign post and that is where our engine stopped functioning as an engine. Unfortunately it was me driving so I can't blame Chris when the engine lost power just over the 4000+m peak. At the side of the road we realised how good a plan it was to join a convoy with a fully living mechanic. Sharkey from Khan Touch This dove on the broken engine and carefully tore out vital components of the engine. He tested the spark plugs and couldn't see an issue, and the tank was full of benzin so that couldn't be it. Adam had looked in the engine, had no idea what was going on, and had decided that there was absolutely no issue with the plastic engine cover. Wherever you are in the world there will be a group of men in a 4x4 who can pretend to know what's wrong with the engine, and as luck would have it they showed up in no time. Shortly after the locals had shown up and peered in our engine, the next 4x4 full of tour guides had appeared. The tour guides acted as a translation service while the local "mechanics" and the Aussie mechanic identified the problem, unfortunately the problem was a lack of pressure from the fuel pump. The original 4x4 men decided to tow us to the nearest "garage" - they didn't tell us, but they did start towing us. While Chris and I discussed the ins and outs of towing a random man jumped in the drivers seat, and the fun began. The Peugeot 107 was meant to go at high speeds, or at least that was the impression our new pilot had. He was not satisfied with being towed downhill, he was more satisfied with forcing the car to start by repeatedly stamping on the pedals and flooring it down the side of the mountains. The language barrier between Tajik Lewis Hamilton and me limited the conversation to hand gestures but I did find out he drove a Renault Kangoo, liked mountain climbing and wasn't too pleased with the state of our car - I ran a finger through the thick layer of dust and said Tajikistan which got a laugh, so he can't have been too upset about it.
We were towed for a good few hours before we reached the next town with a full mechanics workshop. They made it sound like a full mechanics workshop, but in reality it was just a man's house. The men from the 4x4 quickly dissected the back of the car to get to the fuel pump beneath the rear seats using a mallet hammer to open the sealed fuel tank. They pried out the fuel pump, spraying benzin all over the car in the process, and dumped it on the ground outside. It wasn't that hard to see what the issue was with the pump, normally they don't have a massive crack running down the side of them. The plastic cap that screwed over the pump to give a good seal had cracked and was letting petrol to leak in. Back home they would probably charge you a small fortune to completely replace the pump, but spare Peugeot 107 fuel pumps aren't that common in the wilderness so the crack was fixed with glue, wire and cable ties. To prove the problem was fixed Tajik Lewis Hamilton took a high speed joy ride around town, while we watched as the car didn't explode. Once the man returned our car we asked about the cost, but they just shook their heads. We gave them the cigarettes and vodka we had picked up to bribe policemen as a token of our appreciation. As we were waiting for the other teams who couldn't keep up with a broken Peugeot the man cracked open the vodka and poured some glasses, or more poured into anything that could hold it. I looked around at the other containers with a small measure of vodka, then I looked at my mug full. Not wanting to be rude I drank the entire thing on an empty stomach and slurred to Chris that he would be driving instead.
Once the other teams showed up to the "mechanics" the local guys suggested going to get some food at the cafe in town so of course we happily accepted. We followed the locals to the edge of town and were ushered inside, before we knew it we were tucking in to a delicious bowl of spicy noodle soup with freshly cooked bread. At the end of the meal we were full, but instead they gave us more bread and paid for dinner. By this time it was dark so we said goodbye to the locals and pretended to leave town, instead we headed back through the village to where the others had seen a hotel. The "hotel" was a room with blankets laid on the floor where we could all sleep, we unpack sleeping bags and settled down for the night. We went to sleep at 8.30p.m. and were awake again by 9.30p.m, how's that for a cliff hanger...
Day 24 - S&%t Hits the Fan
Start: Rumours of burger joint in Khorog
Finish: A horrible slumber party
