September 10, 2026
Karavshin – (an overcast) day two: clambering up to Jalgychy – and “surfing” back.
Salam elim!
On the Karavshin trek across the Pamir-Alay mountain system, summer weather is normally glorious. Mornings bring guaranteed blue skies, by midday a few insignificant little clouds might swell up (or possibly rather more significant ones); and toward evening there might be a fine drizzle. At night the clouds dissolve, and whoever’s lucky enough to have insomnia (though, after long marches, plus all the up-and-down tramping, insomnia is a rarity around here), or unlucky enough to need a nighttime call of nature, gets to gaze at an infinitely brilliant starry sky, and at the satellites scurrying back and forth across the heavens around this planet of ours.
Like I say, that’s how things are normally. We, alas, weren’t so lucky…
For some reason, by the end of day one and for almost all of day two of our trekking trip, a thoroughly atypical scoundrel of a cyclone rolled in over the mountain ranges, drew a dense gray blanket of cloud across the sky, and doused everything (and everyone) in a spiteful rain that drummed dismally on our tents – drumming that woke us all up on the morning of day two. But what could we do? Not much besides waiting for nature’s gloom to turn a little more transparent and then head out along the trail ->


















