Miners and Drivers

Once we reached the guesthouse in Penjikent we devoured the bread and watermelon we were greeted with and sat in front of the t.v, stupified by our ordeal and totally captivated by Russian programming.

The next day we set out to explore the 7 lakes at the foot of the Fan Mountains. We arranged a homestay through our saviour, bought some bread, cheese, cucumbers and lots of water and clambered into an old soviet jeep. There were seats for 4 but, as well as a dozen watermelons, a few sacks of rice and several crates of veg, the driver successfully crammed 11 of us into the vehicle and off we went. Quite a drive-up dirt tracks and over rickety bridges. Both the scenery and the ride got our adrenaline pumping but the driver was careful and, unlike others to come we had complete faith in him. When he dropped us off he said he'd be going back down to the town at 4 o'clock the next day and we arranged to return with him. It turned out that the guy whose home we had hoped to stay in never passed the message on and it was only after several hours and much gesturing that we managed to find someone with keys to a room and access to a kettle. It was to be the first of many bread dinners...

Upon awaking the next day we were frantically informed that the only car for the day had passed by at 4 in the morning and that we would now have to hike our way down. Instead, we took a punt on being able to find accommodation further up the valley and headed into the mountains in attempt to reach the last of the 7 lakes. We made it after 4 hours walking and were immmediately invited over to join a group of 7 or so men that had driven up for the weekend. As they laid on shashlyk (barbecued skewers), plov, mutton fat stew, melon and vodka they explained they were all miners from the local Zerafshan Gold Company. They splashed about in the lake and danced and sang and laughed and drank and insisted that they give us a lift back to the town that night. At first this was tempting as we still didn't know if we would be able to find accommodation in the valley. However, it soon became clear they were more keen on us staying the night at their miners' camp. The drunkest one of the lot was also becoming overly attentive to Victoria and they were all encouraging her to dance and go for a swim, things a local woman would never dream of doing. Between nervous smiles we surreptitiously hatched a plan to extricate ourselves from the situation and, after the friendliest one of the lot tried to fall asleep in Victoria's lap we jumped up and announced that we were going for a short walk. They protested and made us promise we would return, which we did but this time Victoria smiled less readily and I wore a permanent frown. We made it clear we wouldn't be joining them at their camp and they eventually got the message.

Snatching glances over our shoulders we left them at the lake and scrambled down to the nearest settlement, confirmed there would be a car at 3am and found a guy willing to let us have a room for the night, which he wouldn't accept any money for. We holed up in our hovel till we saw the men drive through and, relieved, spent the evening skimming stones and reading. This time we caught our jeep and, though the road was scarier in the dark and despite the fact the radio was blaring out a religious sermon with what seemed to be frequent denunciations of 'Israeeel' we both fell asleep, Victoria on my shoulder and myself on a man who I think may well have been Osama Bin Laden.