Iskander Kul

The sketchy driver locked our luggage in his trunk. Curran had shaken on a not-so-good deal - 500 somoni for five people in a sedan, meaning four people would squeeze into three seats with our extra baggage. We protested and begged for a larger car. The driver was unmoved, so Curran slipped him 20 som and we transferred our things to the Jeep that could comfortably fit all of us, as well as transport us safely along bumpy mountain roads. We were on our way to Iskander Kul, sans sketchy driver!

If your nervous about driving, this trip is not for you. The road hugs sheer mountainsides with no guardrails. Drivers honk when turning corners to warn oncoming traffic of their approach. On our trip, our driver told us tragic stories: The mountain pass is closed because two cars careened over the edge, killing everyone inside. In the winter, an avalanche trapped 90 people on the road. Benevolent Iranian truckers gave them each an egg a day. However, the tunnel is scariest of all.

Finished a few years ago, the tunnel is poorly designed. Water collects on the inside and stands at 2 or 3 feet in places. Side tunnels lead to nowhere, abandoned machinery rusts in the darkness and mist, single lightbulbs hanging from wires light the way. I took a picture, but it was obscured by the gases that had collected. Another tragic story: During an accident and subsequent pile-up in the tunnel, drivers kept their motors running and several people died of carbon monoxide poisoning. I felt like I was close to being the next victim as we drove through; my lips were tingling and I felt lightheaded.

The tunnel of doom.

Coming out the other side was exhilerating. Life was mine again! Also, the view wasn't bad. Here there are mountains upon mountains.

The trip also gave me some perspective on how people live outside of Dushanbe. In many of the towns that we passed, people lived in mud or stone huts with no greenery in sight.

After being stopped at a roadblock for three hours (three Tajik men shared their vodka and vegetables with us on the riverside), we finally made it to Iskander Kul. The picture below doesn't do it justice. The lake is truly amazing.

Iskander Kul has only one resort - a crumbling Soviet construction that was once picturesque and quaint. While overgrown, it still held some charm. However, we stayed in tents. I felt safer there (fewer fleas) and it was nice to sleep in the outdoors again.

On Saturday, we hiked to a waterfall and then, because the hike to the waterfall wasn't enough, we climbed a mountain. The climb up was tough - loose rocks and boulders slipped and fell on those below and I twisted my ankle, but my legs were happy for the exercise. And I was happy for the view from the top.

I'm not quite sure how the legend about Iskander Kul goes. Something about Alexander's horse walking into the water and never coming out? In any case, I felt that I could have stayed for a lot longer. Up the road, a trail leads into the Fan Mountains where there are more glacial lakes and a path to the Uzbek border. Maybe next time, assuming I could survive the tunnel again.