The Highest Point on My Uzbekistan Route

This morning I took my time because the comfortable bed made it hard to get up. At the same time, I knew that Odette was still asleep as well. The recovery had really done me good, and I had slept very well.

In the end, I said goodbye to Odette shortly before 11 and continued riding northeast. I ended up making two little pirouettes along the way: one right after the start, because I thought there was still something to see there, which turned out not to be the case; and another shortly after leaving Samarkand, because I simply hadn’t noticed that the route I was following made a full loop.

The terrain climbed very gradually, passing through orchards and fields, while I constantly faced a headwind. But today I took everything very calmly and didn’t let it bother me. I kept wondering what the women selling things along the roadside were actually offering — I had already seen them repeatedly over the past few days. Today I stopped at one of them, and the mystery was solved: the styrofoam boxes were filled with ice cream. Since it contained milk, I decided not to have any.

The climb lasted longer than I had expected. When I load such a long route into the GPS — in this case essentially all of Uzbekistan — I can’t really see the elevation profile in detail. In the end, more than half of the day’s kilometers were behind me before I reached the highest point. Shortly before that, around halfway through the expected distance, I had taken a longer break at a small shop.

Fortunately, the descent followed a good road that at first stretched arrow-straight through the landscape. The headwind also became less noticeable now, because thanks to the downhill gradient I was still moving along quickly. Looking ahead, I initially thought another longer climb would follow, but the road toward Jizzax left the large M-39 highway here and contained no major counter-climbs. Instead, the road led through a valley that at times even felt like a canyon — scenically very interesting and beautiful to look at.

Then, to my delight, another female cyclist appeared riding toward me. Her name was Beni, she came from Germany, and she said she had time for a short chat because her companion Lilli had gotten a flat tire and had sent her ahead to find a camping spot for the two adventurers. While I was talking with Beni, two girls suddenly appeared wanting to take photos with us. They were the twelve-year-old Afruza and Zahro, who live in the nearby village. After they said goodbye, Lilli eventually arrived as well. And while we continued talking, Afruza and Zahro suddenly returned, bringing along a third girl and two small bottles of water for us. The fact that there were now three of us seemed to confuse them a little. But it was incredibly sweet how they tried to talk with us in English using their phones for help.

Beni and Lilli had already cycled through Turkey and were now exploring Uzbekistan. In June, they planned to ride the famous Pamir Highway. I wish you both the best of luck and was very happy to meet you.

As for me, I still had about 20 kilometers left to my accommodation in Jizzax. At first the road continued through the valley, then the small mountain ridge was crossed and the horizon opened up again. After riding through the traffic of the city on huge roads, I arrived at the hostel at around 6:15 p.m.

Contrary to my original rough plan shown on the map, I decided to take a more northern route around the mountains and instead travel through Tashkent, Bishkek, and Almaty toward China, crossing the border at Khorgas. The mountains — especially the Pamir Highway and Kashgar — are also very tempting to me, but from a time perspective I decided to save that adventure for another occasion.