Ascension To The Pamir
We arrived back in Bishkek at 10pm, the right time to hit the clubs again.
This time we made sure that we do not get another encounter with the boys in red skirts. Instead we ended up in "Promzona" which was a fairly good club.
It turned into a long, very long night as we wanted to enjoy ourself and get new energy for the upcoming hassle with our problems. More about it later.
Mille found on the way out a deck of cards and started to be a fortuneteller. Everyone he caught had to draw a card and he would then tell them what that card means for their future.
No one really understood the point of it (obviously, there was non) but still everyone wanted to draw a card.
We got a cap and drove to the hostel with a short stop at a Shaurma (Kebab) stall. Not only did we stop so that the Shaurma girl could draw a card, no, we were there for serious business: Shaurma!
And since we had such a lovely night, we decided to buy a third Shaurma for our taxi driver.
He was just a tiny bit surprised and confused. The over priced fee and a free Shaurma - he probably felt like in heaven.
On the next Monday, the time had come to tackle the mysterious clutch problem. Not knowing what the problem is and seeing that even the mechanics are struggling to figure it out, drives you crazy.
It took a whole day, couple of mechanics and a few phone calls before the primary clutch cylinder was removed once more. As a replacement could not been found, its seals were replaced instead.
And, oh wonder, it did work again! Frankly speaking, I was swearing in every language I know. That cylinder was integrated back in Volgograd and was used for about 12,000 km. How the hack could it break already?
It seemed to be our lucky day. Matatu was ready to hit the road again and Mille finally received his Turkmenian visa.
To get to Osh we had to cross two mountain passes of nearly 3200m, a good training for the up coming 4700m high Pamir Highway. We had a pretty sweet time and everything went smoothly. So we started happily into the Pamir Highway.
Until in the middle of nowhere Matatus alternator gave up with a loud bang - shit!
Luckily, a mechanic was quickly found but he was not convinced that the alternator was the problem as the engine could not be started again. He checked a couple of things and claimed that something is wrong with the engine... my face colour turned into a white like snow.
But I did not give up in insisting that the alternator was blown up. I just had this inner conviction that the alternator was the bad and the ugly, not the good. And I should keep right. I could have the first look on the engine when the mechanic tried to switch on Matatu after a while.
There it was, ringing like the bells in my home town or the Muezzin in the morning at 5am, not to miss: The alternators pulley was totally blocked and did not turn an inch, which slowed down the v-belt and therefore prevented the engine to get running.
Nearly crying of luck, I climbed up on the roof, opened up one of the boxes and took out my replacement alternator. "It's never an adventure unless something goes wrong!" How I hate sometimes my own saying.
The next day we arrived in Sary-Tash, the last "town" before the Kyrgis-Tajik border. We decided to drive closer to Mt. Lenin for the last day and night and enjoy the fabulous mountain range and icy cold but sunny weather.
That decision was just priceless.