Dushanbe to Samarkand
I suppose it should have been expected that somewhere in Eurasia after negotiating so many busy cities that I would fall off and injure myself. Well it happened as I was leaving Dushanbe on my way to the border just 100 kms west of the city. Cities are busy everywhere but in Central Asia the drivers especially taxi's are crazy. Lanes and road rules do not exist. I have always been ultra-cautious when travelling in cities but this day my caution was not enough. A mini-taxi zoomed past me on the outside, cut straight in front of me then proceeded to brake heavily. There was nowhere to go but to brake and fall. Mr Mule flipped and skidded on his side for 10-15m. I was thrown off landing head first on the asphalt with my chest taking much of the force. I can only remember the sound of crashing and scrapping bits as I came to a halt. A group of locals ran over and helped me up and somehow managed to get the Mule to the side of the busy highway. The brain-free taxi driver didn't even stop to help. After 10 minutes of rest and a cup of tea all I could think of was getting to the border for it was my last day before my visa for Tajikistan expired. My body wreaked with pain and the Mule had the LHS crash bar wrapped neatly around the rocker cover with more than half of its surface ground away. The H&B pannier had absorbed much of the impact and had suffered serious gouges to its rim. After thanking all of the kind people who helped me I gingerly mounted the Mule and headed off. After a half hour it was too much. I had to stop and rest as shock had set in and I was feeling very low. My chest felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer and my LHS shoulder was very painful.
The Tajik exit was OK. They were kind and and could see I was not a well chappy. The temperature had climbed to 40 deg C when I approached the Uzbek border crossing. They were not the slightest bit sympathetic to my plea for help. Instead of being treated like a tourist I was searched like a terrorist requesting that everything on the Mule be inspected. It was one of the lowest moments of my life for I could not even lift my arm let alone unpack the Mule. Three hours later I left the border and headed to the first village for I was in desperate need of a cool drink and somewhere to rest. On asking a local if there was a hotel he kindly offered for me to stay with his family. They were very passionate and understanding of my condition and looked after me for the night as good as any hospital could have done. Although my body was screaming to stay put in a comfortable outdoor bed, I knew I must move on.
Samarkand was a further 450 kms. Another 40 deg C day made sure it was a pretty unpleasant ride. The Antica B&B was recommended in my Guidebook and it did not disappoint. The hard working woman manager immediately wanted to call an emergency doctor to have me examined. I was happy to wait until the next morning and just get some rest. The staff were truly wonderful towards me and I will not forget their generous assistance for a very long time.
Samarkand is another leafy but not so tidy Eurasian city. It looked to me like most of the monuments and mausoleums were restored or were in a state of being renovated. There was huge amount of building and construction activity going on throughout the historic centre of this famous Uzbek city. I walked to the State Art Gallery on my second day as I needed to get out of my room. Photos from the 1930's indicated that the majority of this monuments were in a serious state of ruin at that time. What you see today is a modern reconstruction of the previously amazing structures that have largely existed since the 14th Century. The original architects deserved to stand proud of having their building withstand six centuries in such a harsh climate.
My rest at the Antica has made me feel a tad better. However with cracked and bruised ribs the pain will remain for many weeks so I am not looking forward to having to complete a further 8,000 kms. Tomorrow I head west to Bukhara then hopefully NW to visit the tragic old Aral Sea port of Moynaq. At least I have made up some time and the remaining 9 days in Uzbekistan will not have to be rushed.