Day 100 - So this is hard one: The last post! With the bike sold, all we could do was celebrate the trip and so we did. Just like the last time we were here eight years ago with Gion’s brother Len, we wrapped up the day with a visit to the Arasan Spa and then headed to Darejani for some delicious Georgian cuisine. 100 days on the road, 15,000 km traveled, and zero accidents is worth celebrating. We rode over the Alps and Dolomites in Europe, the Pontic Mountains in Turkey, the Lesser Caucasus in Georgia and Armenia, the Alborz Mountains in Iran, the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan, the Pamir Mountains in Tajikistan, and the Tien Shan mountains in Kyrgyzstan to finally reach our destination in Kazakhstan. We were fortunate. Many times over. A full brake and a sliding maneuver on the highway in Iran to avoid a car that suddenly turned left just in front of us, or a small child who ran into the street just ahead of us in Afghanistan could have ended very badly. In both cases, just centimeters separated us from a tragic accident. We also had a few falls that left us sore for days, but thankfully, we escaped without any broken bones. Many fellow motorcyclists weren’t as lucky; we followed their stories, and while they are luckily okay, they had to fly home for treatment and recovery before being able to continue their trip. Riding is risky, and the road can be deadly. We are grateful to be here enjoying this moment; someone must have been looking out for us. We also feel incredibly thankful to have been able to ride together as father and son team, most can only dream of that. And we have met so many amazing people who helped us along the way. People who fed us, took us in for the night, introduced us to their family, showed us the way, showed us their ways, learned us something about ourselves. Thank you, cheers, and here’s to new adventures soon!

Day 97 - I'm starting to feel quite sentimental now. It's our last night camping. The trip is nearly at its end. I'm not sure how I'll adjust to sleeping in a regular bed again. How will I resist the temptation to eat instant Ramen every single day? For THAT, I think I might have an idea. Seriously, after traveling for so long, it's tough to picture returning to normal life. It's hard to think about not seeing my eldest son every day. We haven't spent this much time together in ages. This trip has been a dream come true and a privilege for me to share all these moments and adventures with him. I need to come to terms with it. For our final camping night, Gion picked a stunning location that required us to ride for half an hour over rocky paths down to the Charyn river. It's one of those places we adore, far from the usual tourist spots. Every action, from setting up the tent to lighting the fire to preparing the gas cooker and water for dinner, has become second nature after all these months. We decided to cool the cans of beer in the cold river and enjoyed a chill last evening at this gorgeous spot.

Day 98 - We made it to Almaty and checked into another hostel. The good part is that the top bunk beds come with curtains, the bad is that there are ten blokes sharing the room and the air conditioning is broken. For a second, I think we should have treated ourselves to one of Almatys luxe hotels this time, but then I remember that the money is better spent .. on Aperol Spritz for example. But first on the agenda is to clean the bikes and get them ready for the next adventure - more to that later - and then we’ll head to one of Almaty’s super trendy coffee spots to enjoy the comforts of civilization again. So, the jam-packed plan for today: bike cleaning and flat whites. And as attentive reader you already know, we haven’t showered in a few days, so that goes without saying. Still, I feel a bit nostalgic here knowing that the endless circle of dust and dirt comes to an end, as much for my motorcycle as much for us. When I took my sweat soaked, dirt drenched and stain covered motorcycle gear off for the last time, a tear of sadness rolled down…, well, almost.

Day 94 - I love Kazakhstan for this. The open landscapes are just breathtaking. I’m less thrilled though as I know as it’s our last country and feeling a bit nostalgic as the trip is winding down. In just a couple of days, we’ll be in Almaty, getting ready for our flight back home. The weather is still stormy and rainy, so we decide to skip the mountains and check out the plains instead. After a fantastic breakfast (American style at Altyn Dan in Kegen, which was a nice change), we pass by the lower mountains and pass at Temirlik. Instead of heading straight into the Charyn plain, we take an off-road route to explore some hills left and right. Need to enjoy every movement now off the tarmac! The photos should really tell the story; we spend at least half an hour just watching the weather change and soaking in the views of the plain. This is going to be the main theme for our last few days: the brown, grey, sandy, rocky mountains and canyons, the steppe, and desert-like plains - and if the weather opens up the views from time to time, the white peaks of the Tien Shan mountains when looking south.

Day 95 - Here are a few photos taken in the plains near the Charyn Canyon area. We visited Kazakhstan eight years ago (with 4x4 and trekking) to explore the stunning Altyn Emel National Park, and these views resonate with us the most in this region. At that time, I dreamed of riding through Kazakhstan on my own motorcycle, and now here we are. We’ve been driving for hours across these plains, zooming past forgotten villages and scenes that look like they’re straight out of a movie. For whatever reason it is, these open views calm my mind.

Day 90 - Here are some more shots from our camping spot at Issyk Kul in Kyrgyzstan. We collected enough wood to start a fire on the beach and take in the beautiful scenery. Later that night, a storm rolled in, giving us a view of the lightning below while the stars shined above the clouds. An hour later, the storm hit us hard with strong winds, lightning, and rain. It’s always a terrifying in the tent when the wind howls and the rain comes down hard. Snuggled in my sleeping bag, I use to count the seconds between the flash that lights up the tent and the thunder to figure out the storm's path and certainly to determine when it finally passed and the time between the light and the thunder stretches out again.

Day 91 - Other than the occasional hostels, this has become my home. Setting up camp takes about 15 minutes, packing up requires around 30, easy. The tent, the Nemo Osmo Dragonfly Bikepack, is designed for 2 people, yet it still packs down super small and light. I utilise the extra space inside to store all my gear, except for my boots. I have my helmet, knee pads, riding jacket, pants, and my Alpinestars A10 protective shell inside. The tent itself was fantastic, but the packing bag was too small, making it a hassle to fit the tent back inside. After two months, the bag tore, but fortunately, it was stored in my pannier bag as a second layer rather than on the bicycle's handlebars as intended. I sleep on a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xlite NXT sleeping pad, which is thick enough for side sleeping and provides excellent insulation even in bitterly cold conditions. It's such a joy compared to the thin, layered sleeping pads I've used over the past few years. My sleeping bag is a Sea to Summit Spark Pro, which packs down incredibly small and keeps me warm below freezing, yet remains comfortable in the heat of Central Asia. I absolutely love it. Gion uses a similar setup but one man tent only. My entire setup is honestly more comfortable than 95% of the hostel beds I've slept in. I prefer sleeping in my tent rather than listening to five other guys snoring and stepping over their stinky socks to get to my bed. But man needs to shower from time to time, and that's just how it is.

Day 91 - After we packed up at our fantastic lakeside spot, we took a little break in the sand before continuing our journey along the south shore of Lake Issyk Kul towards Karakol. Gion’s back wheel spun, and just 10 seconds later, half of the bike was buried in the sand. The first step is to take off the luggage, and the second is to clear the sand around the bike. There’s no way to just ‘ride’ the bike out of this sand. The only option is to wiggle the bike left and right until we can lay it down, turn it to get it out of the hole, and then lift it back onto the flat sandy surface and ride off slowly. After 30 minutes and a lot of cursing, we’re finally on our way.

Day 92 - After nearly two weeks in Kyrgyzstan, we are heading to our final destination, Almaty in Kazakhstan. We have covered at this point almost 15,000 km in the saddle, and it feels quite surreal to think that these could be the last days of our journey. We have accomplished our goals, traveling from Belgium and Switzerland to the border of China via one of the legendary motorcycle routes, the Pamir Highway, and it's time to accept that this adventure may soon come to an end. But not so fast. We traveled through Kazakhstan eight years ago and loved every moment. And we expect nothing less this time around, Kazakhstan has a special vibe to it. As soon as we crossed the border, we were welcomed by its vast open spaces that I adore so much.

Day 86 and 87 - Here are some shots from our journey driving from Kyzyl-Oi to Bishkek. The road was mostly compressed dirt, often wet from the rain last night, but still drivable fast. Along the route, we passed through villages like Komjokul that still exude that Soviet vibe. If we didn’t know we were in Kyrgyzstan, we might think we were riding through villages along the Kolyma Highway, aka the Road of Bones, somewhere in Siberia on our way to Magadan. In fact, that could inspire a new trip! Meanwhile, we hit the pavement again as we ride over the Too-Ashuu pass towards Bishkek. We check into a hostel here, enjoy a couple of beers, take a shower, and decide to stay for a day before starting our final leg along Issy-Kul lake on our way to Kazakhstan.

Day 89 - Getting out of bed can be a challenge sometimes, especially when the bed is as cozy as the ones we experienced in the hostel in Balykchy. Our ride has been quite uneventful - well, aside from the fact that I was pulled over for speeding by a mobile police patrol… - but we made our way to Balykchy and decided to call it a night early as the rain began to fall, and we definitely didn’t want to set up our tents in the wet weather. We have not had rain since probably Armenia. I woke up early to go grab some of the first croissants and yogurt we’ve had in what feels like forever. Once Gion finally got out of bed, we enjoyed our breakfast and prepared to ride along the southern edge of Issyk Kul lake.

Day 84 - Some days of riding are simply about getting from point A to point B, but today was quite the opposite. The views were absolutely breathtaking. We traversed through deep valleys, gaining more elevation until we finally reached the summit of the Kara-Koo pass at 3600 meters. This pass is located in the Tian Shan mountain range, and its name translates to "Black Valley," which reflects its stunning natural features. The rocky cliffs surrounding the area cast deep shadows, adding an air of mystery and dramatic beauty. The road over the pass is known as Kyrgyzstan's most scenic route, and it's easy to see why. Once we descended into the valley below, we followed sandstone-colored rock formations until we arrived at Jangy-Talap. We refueled and enjoyed lunch before heading north, climbing steeply through picturesque mountain scenery reminiscent of Switzerland towards the Moldo Ashuu pass, again high up at 3300 m. And then, everything transforms. The views open up for kilometers and kilometers, revealing only green pastures, yurts, and thousands of sheep, horses, and cows, all surrounded by lush hills and mountain peaks. It feels a bit like being on another planet, I imagine Mars, but in green. We are at an altitude of 3000 m and soon arrive at Song-Kul, where we will spend the night in a yurt.

Day 84 - Song Kul. We are finally reaching the Song-Kul plateau, and although the lake isn't visible yet, the scenery is absolutely stunning. On one side, we have the pass we just rode up, and on the other, the vast plateau. This is my second visit here, and just like the first time, it never fails to take my breath away. For me, it's one of those magical places on earth. Perhaps I just have a soft spot for wide-open spaces. And here, there's an abundance of it—a vast expanse of emptiness. Aside from the pastures and animals, all you see are the rolling hills and the dirt path that winds down towards Song-Kul lake, which sits at an altitude of 3000 meters. Time to ride down and find a place to sleep.

Day 84 - Here are some shots from our camp at Song-Kul. It gets chilly quickly up here, and we settled into a cozy little yurt camp for the night. The camp was also home to a cow, lots of horses, and a lively young sheep that kept running around everyone baaa’ing. Imagine your new baby dog you just got; it was just like that. We soon discovered that the young sheep is great friends with the white stallion, and we enjoyed watching them play all evening before being served Kuurdak, the traditional Kyrgyz potatoes and mutton. After dinner, we checked to see if our little lamb was still around and are pleased to say it didn’t end up on our plate.

Day 85 - Rain fell overnight, but the skies cleared up quickly, revealing a beautiful crystal clear view. We set off on the trail, primarily riding on dirt and gravel paths across the plateau as we descended the Kara Keche pass, located to the west of the lake. We traversed the valley on endless stretches of fast-driving washboard piste before making our way back up to Kyzyl-Oi for camping. On days like this, we cover 150 km of off-road dirt track riding over plateaus and through valleys, exploring some of Kyrgyzstan's most stunning landscapes. We feel a total sense of freedom. At least until when the mosquitoes began to eat our very bodies at the camp later that night. We started a camp fire, creating plenty of smoke to ward off these agressive vampires. Our reasoning was that smoky clothes were a small price to pay on our already sweat-soaked and stinky garments, but it effectively kept the mosquitoes at bay. And it did.

Day 81 - I haven't felt it since we first started discussing the idea. But that's how it goes. We decided to tackle this mountain pass that should lead us to the beautiful Toktogul Reservoir. The only issue is that we lack route descriptions, just a faint line on our paper map indicating a very narrow and steep path. It's more of a horseback trail than a proper pass. Not the type of route your do with a heavy adventure motorcycle. In any way, we decided to give it a try. We ride for two hours into the valley, which is absolutely breathtaking, all off-road, navigating rocky paths and numerous river crossings. A few small falls here and there, but nothing too serious kept us alert. When we started climbing deep in the valley, it was too late for me to realize that the path was too steep, too rocky, and simply beyond my skill level. I fell twice on the steep climbs, unable to put my foot down when the bike stalled due to the incline. My head hit the rocks on the ground, but thankfully I was wearing a good helmet. Gion managed the climbs better and took over my bike in the sections that were too much for me. Until, that is, we noticed that my clutch was no longer functioning properly about halfway up. I engaged the gear, released the clutch, and... nothing. The clutch was burned out, and the bike wouldn't move anymore. A) We didn't make it to the top of the pass b) we had a heavy motor repair to tackle and c).. well, it just sucked and it was blood hot. I was not in good mood. Fortunately, the path was steep, and I had no trouble rolling back down to the end of the valley where we found a farmer and his family who allowed us to repair the bike on their property. We opened the motor, replaced the clutch plates, and reassembled everything. Luckily, when you lay these old bikes down, the oil flows to the other side, allowing you to fix the clutch without losing or changing the oil. 2 hours of work with the horses, cows and farmers kids keeping us company - and the bike was up and running again! By now, it was too late to leave, and the family invited us for dinner and allowed us to camp. We had a wonderful time experiencing Kyrgyz farming life up close.

Day 82 - We woke up to the sight of cows and horses all around us, with everyone already busy with their tasks. The kids closely followed their father, observing and learning at every turn. As we packed up the camp, we heated some water for our 3-in-1 morning coffee. By 9 am, after finishing our coffee, the family had already completed shoeing the horse and catching a sheep, while the riders prepared to lead the herd to the pastures with their horses and dogs. We opted to ride down the valley we have come up yesterday, deciding against attempting that pass again. We made an early stop in Jalal-Abad for coffee and lunch, and chose to spend the night there.

Day 75 - cont. After a brief stop in Karakul village for some coffee, we decide to continue our journey and cross the border into Kyrgyzstan. We keep riding alongside the border fence with China, which is just a few kilometers away. We exit at the Tajik border post of Kyzyl Art, at an altitude of 4,206 meters. The procedure is simple, it takes us only 30 minutes without any issues. At this moment, we find ourselves not in Kyrgyzstan, but in the no-man's land between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. The term "no-man's land" describes the area situated between the border checkpoints of the two countries, a 20 km stretch of land where neither authorities hold jurisdiction. It serves as a security buffer zone, similar to the one that exists between Tajikistan and China.

Day 75 - cont. After leaving the Tajik border post, the Pamir Highway descends sharply along a muddy dirt path. Fortunately, the weather is dry; it would be quite challenging to navigate this area in the rain. Half an hour later, having descended a thousand meters, we arrive at the Kyrgyz border post. The gates swing open, and we find ourselves in the Switzerland of Central Asia. The scenery and atmosphere shift instantly, with the earthy browns, greys and reds of the rugged mountains and rock of Tadjikistan giving way to lush green pastures. Looks like Grindelwald here thinks me. In the plains, we spot the first yurt’s and pass by herds of yaks. Really the only difference to Switzerland thinks me again. Along with Sal and Ethan, who have traveled the same route today, we decide to set up camp in a breathtaking location on the wide open plain, with views of the Pamir mountains and Peak Lenin, this time from the Kyrgyz side. The panorama is incredible; it’s easy to see why the Pamir Mountains are called the "Roof of the World." We pitch our camp without any mosquitoes and prepare ourselves some well-deserved ramen.

Day 76 - We rise to a clear sky and a breathtaking view of the Pamir mountain range. It’s truly magical; it’s hard to put into words the feeling of opening the tent door and being welcomed by such a sight. The earth is an incredible place to inhabit. I am more convinced than ever that we reside on the most beautiful planet in the solar system, just trust me on this. We brew some coffee to toast to this realization. Nescafé that is. As I put on my endure knee braces sitting on my lightweight camping chair, I take one last look at Peak Lenin before we all set off towards Osh, Kyrgyzstan. On our journey, we come across the first herds of horses, and they certainly won’t be the last we encounter. They create a stunning scene against the backdrop of the white peaks. Indeed, I pause every five minutes to snap another photo and express officially my gratitude to Gion for his patience with such photographic behaviour all along the trip. After two hours and a few food breaks along the way, we arrive at Park Hostel in Osh, where Gion and I venture out for beers and burgers to celebrate the successful completion of our third leg, the Pamir Highway from Dushanbe, Tajikistan to Osh, Kyrgyzstan. I dreamed to ride Pamir Highway since every I ride adv motorcycles and it’s a strange feeling suddenly being in Osh and ticking this one off the list.

Days 77-79. After all the beers yesterday, we ended up waking up late at 10 am. We made our way into Osh, where we found a neo-soviet building housing a trendy coffee shop for breakfast. The rest of the day was spent writing our blog and editing photos. Osh will be our service stop for the next two or three days, giving us time to prepare for the final leg of our journey from Osh, Kyrgyzstan to Almaty, Kazakhstan. Gion also needed a new battery for his bike, and I required a new one for my phone. Easy done here in the Bazar at $25 within 60 minutes. Love the efficiency. Osh turned out to be a fun city to stay in; the Central Asian equivalent of Uber here is Yandex, affordable, easy and quick to get around. And after our time in Iran and Afghanistan, we appreciated the simple pleasures of life, like withdrawing cash from an ATM or paying with a bank card. Although it’s less cool than exchanging our dollars at gold shops and walking away with a paper bag full of cash like we did in Iran, or rolling down the back window of our taxi to hand over dollars for cash in a street exchange in Kabul, being back to using plastic money suits us just fine at this point. And local beer as well.

Day 74 - Our intention was to ride to the Chinese border today, but instead, we found ourselves staying in bed. The weather is worse than it was yesterday, making it a waiting game. It feels somewhat like being at a high-altitude base camp, just waiting for the weather to clear up. And that’s exactly what we did. China can wait; after all, we can’t enter with our bikes, so reaching the border zone is as far as we can go. It’s more of a mental milestone to have reached the Chinese border from Belgium, having traveled nearly 15,000 km across some of the world’s toughest roads and most perilous countries. In the meantime, we enjoy another sip of 3-in-1 Nespresso and take another nap. That will have to do for now. There’s no internet up here, so coffee, reading and sleeping is a good as it gets. Tomorrow is expected to be a better day.

Day 75 - We have finally made it! After traveling 13,425 km, we have reached the highest point of our journey, the Ak-Baital pass along the Pamir Highway. This high mountain pass stands at an impressive elevation of 4,670 m (15,321 ft) above sea level, situated in the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region of Tajikistan. At this elevation, it was the highest road pass in the former Soviet Union. We are thrilled that we decided to wait out the bad weather in Murghab, allowing us to see the peaks today, even covered with a few clouds. Surrounding us is a breathtaking high alpine landscape, with mountain ranges as high as 6,000 meters. We spent some time at the pass with fellow motorcyclists and cyclists (I am truly amazed by how many cyclists make it up here, literally defying gravity as they pedal thousands of meters uphill…) before we began our descent towards the stunning steppe plains surrounding Karakul Lake.

Day 75 - continued. We make our way down the Ak-Baital pass along the Tadjik-Chinese border heading towards Karakul. The road is rough, hard mud and gravel. Upon reaching a steppe plain at approximately 4000 m altitude, we catch our first glimpse of Lake Karakul, appearing as a beautiful blue stripe on the horizon. Karakul Lake is a high-altitude, endorheic lake situated here in the Pamir Mountains of Tajikistan. It is believed that the lake basin was formed by a meteor impact millions of years ago. The area surrounding the lake, apart from Karakul village, is a deserted steppe, a paradise for off-road enthusiasts. In the distance, we can see the white top of Peak Lenin, which stands at 7134 m, making it the tallest mountain in the Trans-Alay range of the Pamir Mountains. Although it would have been delightful to spend another day exploring around the lake, the numerous mosquitoes here (they are the biggie size type) make it less appealing to set up camp. Therefore, we choose to press on towards the border instead of being eaten alive for dinner.

Day 71 River crossing - A tricky moment in the Wakhan valley is crossing the river just after Langar when moving east to west. It's usually recommended to cross in the morning when the river has significantly less water, but we decided to attempt the crossing at 3 pm since we wanted to avoid camping there. We reduced the weight of our bikes to make them less likely to tip over and carried most of our equipment across the river on foot. After assessing the depth and the best route, we took the plunge and successfully got both bikes across the river without any falls. Ethan and Sal, whom we had met earlier, confirmed that the river had much less water the following morning when they crossed around 9 am with their Hondas.

Day 71 - Camp. That evening, we pitched our camp at the base of stunning brown-reddish mountains, just a few meters from the river, with Afghanistan visible on the opposite side. With the weather being super dry over the last weeks, we managed to gather enough wood to start a campfire and prepare our classic dinner of rice with tuna, which has become a staple on our journey here in the Pamir mountains. The high altitude of the camp at 3500 meters made every movement more challenging, so we decided to turn in early at 8 pm for a long and much-needed rest.

Day 72 - The gentle tapping of rain on our tents stirred us awake around 7 am, prompting us to quickly pack up before the rain intensified. We hadn’t encountered rain during our travels in Iran and Afghanistan, making this experience feel almost unfamiliar. Of course, my riding boots were still soaking wet from yesterday's river crossing and there’s nothing quite like slipping your feet into cold, damp boots first thing in the morning. A great start. To keep my feet somewhat warm at this altitude I changed my socks three times during our ride, which kind of worked. After we handed out our last passport copy to the Tadjik soldier, we passed the checkpoint to exit the Wakhan valley and leave the Hindu Kush and Afghanistan behind us. The Khargush Pass is a high mountain pass at 4319 meters above sea level connecting the Wakhan Valley with the Pamir Highway. As we descended from the sandy paths of the pass, we were met with endless kilometres of washboard tracks. The experience felt like cycling for hours over cobblestones, shaking both riders and machines to their limits. Luckily the ordeal was over an hour later, exiting the Kahrgush Valley to rejoin the Pamir Highway.

Day 72 cont. - After navigating the washboard section and enduring heavy rain, we desperately needed a break and a hot meal. We're back on the Pamir Highway, where most of the road is easily drivable tarmac here. What a relief after spending days on some of the toughest roads out here. The plateau is breathtaking, even in the rainy weather, and we took some detours off the tarmac onto dirt roads and open terrain just for fun. I felt an incredible sense of freedom as I rode towards distant peaks on this high mountain plateau covered with dirt, sand, and small bushes. Standing up on the bike and soaring towards the horizon was simply exhilarating. Eventually, the M41 guided us to Murghob, where we checked into the Guesthouse Aruf, greeted by the smile of its super friendly owner. "Lentil soup? Chicken?" Yes, please.

Day 70 - Our day began with a refreshing soak at the Garam Chashma hot springs. Since we hadn't had a shower since departing Dushanbe, this much-needed cleanup was a delight. The natural hot spring water is also healthy for the skin. Men and women alternate every hour in the bath, so we found ourselves sharing the large natural hot tub with about two dozen naked Tadjiks. No comment. So: As we traveled south, the valley became narrow, rocky, and rugged. After about an hour, the valley curved eastward and opened up to a wide plateau, with Tadjikistan on our left and Afghanistan on our right, divided by the now broad river. As we had observed earlier in our journey, the Afghans utilize the river for irrigating their farmland, resulting in villages nestled in lush green areas along the riverbanks. The scenery is topped by the snowy peaks of the Afghan and Pakistani mountain systems. The road was predominantly gravel, often rough to navigate, interspersed with sandy sections and large stones. While not technically challenging, it was sure tiring to ride. The great views made up for it.

Day 70 cont. - Here are additional photos from the incredible drive through Wakhan Valley, where the Afghani villages are beautifully situated in the vibrant green pastures between the border river and the mountains. Tadjik military observation posts were placed every 500 meters, and we managed to peek through one of them to see what a Tadjik soldier would see of Afghanistan while observing the Afghanistan behind the stone walls.

Day 70 cont. - You rarely ride solo, and this time we encountered fellow adventure riders Sally and Ethan on our journey into the Wakhan valley, heading in the same direction. They come from Seattle in the US, have been on the road for over a year, and are riding their classic Honda 600R’s starting from Cape Town, traversing Africa and now making their way into Central Asia. Their next goal is to cross China to reach Southeast Asia. What an adventure, right? We’d call it bad ass! They are not just a lovely couple, but also incredibly humble about their accomplishments. And they show to everyone that real adventures are still out there. You just have to set out and make it happen.

Day 70 - Camping. We tackled the trail with enthusiasm; the flat gravel allowed us to pick up some speed, and before long, we discovered an ideal camping location high in the Wakhan valley, near the Bibi Fatimo hot springs (thanks, iOverlander app). Our campsite offered stunning views of the valley below, the towering peaks of Pakistan, the Wakhan Corridor, and the border river that divides Afghanistan from Tajikistan. Earlier, we had purchased food and water in the village, and we prepared our signature dish of melted cheese and bread while soaking in the beautiful scenery.

Day 67 - Pamir Highway. This has been a dream of mine for years, ever since I stumbled upon an article about this mystical road that only the bravest adventurers dare to travel (slight exaggeration alert). About a decade ago, the kids and I had this plan to rent a 4x4 and hit this road, but life got in the way. So when Gion and I were searching for a route, this one popped back into our minds, besides the Road of Bones in Siberia, another one still on the list. In short, after over 11’000 km of riding through some of the most unexplored roads in this planet, we are finally… at the beginning. The legendary Pamir Highway, officially known as the M41, is the second highest international road in the world, right after the Karakorum Highway. It starts in Dushanbe and ends in Osh, Kyrgyzstan. The route is reaching pleateaus of heights between 3,000 – 3,500m, and then climbs even higher to 4,655m at the famous Ak-Baital pass. This road is “naturally” rough and is a haven for “off-road” enthusiasts, but it also suffers from landslides, earthquakes, avalanches, and overflowing rivers. Excited, we leave Dushanbe on the M41, which is still relatively tame and paved for about 150 km, as we kick off our first day on the Pamir Highway. Before long, the road turns unpaved again, climbing through lush green valleys alongside rivers to a plateau around 1500m. Calling it a “highway” is a bit of a stretch; in Belgium, we’d probably label what we’re driving on as a mountain or forest road, barely passable without a four-wheel drive. Here, truckers with balls of steel, see no issue passing it with their flatbeds. We ascend the slopes and set up camp for the night at the Khaburabot pass, which sits at 3200m. It still looked like it could be somewhere in the French Maritime mountains, so we’re curious about when the Pamir mountains will make their appearance.

Day 68 - Afghanistan! We missed you. Kind of. Now, we see it across the river as the Pamir Highway takes us into day two, running along the Tajik-Afghan border. The Pyanj River, stretching 921 km, serves as a natural divider between the two nations. On one side, we spot the typical Afghan villages and the white flag of the by the international community largely unrecognised Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, while on the Tajik side, we make our way through the rough gravel and sand of M41. The border is heavily patrolled by armed Tajik soldiers with natural stipend shooting positions every 500 m or so allowing a clear view on Afghanistans green villages and mountain peaks. And on the Taliban. We carry 10 copies of our passports, the Tajik visa extension that lets us stay for up to 30 days, and the GBAO permit that allows us to enter the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region. At each major Tajik checkpoint, we hand a copy to the soldiers, who let us pass after inspection of said copy. The mountains are becoming more majestic, with seemingly vertical walls leading to snowy peaks as we follow the river deeper into the Central Asian mountains. The route has turned rough, it’s like driving on a washing board, and we're only managing to make an average speed of 30 km/h in order not to put too much strain on our forks and bikes. And on ourselves for that matter. We set up camp in a beautiful spot right at the road junction towards the Bartang Valley. Initially, we planned to ride up the valley, but we've been told that it's closed due to too many impassable river crossings this season. Time for rest. I'm wiped out; 10 hours of riding have taken their toll. I hit the sack at 8 PM and wake up at 7 AM, feeling like the 11 hours of sleep was just about the bare minimum I need to keep going. I've been blaming my digestive system acting up for days now. The dry biscuits and electrolyte-rich water I've been sticking to lately to give my gut a break don't seem like the best nutrition for handling the daily abuse we take. Welcome to Central Asia, where sky-high mountains and hard-hitting gastro problems go hand in hand.

Day 61 - We set off early to head north towards Kunduz, which is just a few hours away from the Tadjik border that we plan to reach tomorrow. Most of the 345 km stretch is still gravel, even up the Kaoshan pass. We ride through the darkness of the Saolang tunnel at 3400m, navigating through the Hindu Kush mountains, and then bask in the full midday sun as we descend to the low plains and continue on to Kunduz. The temperature down here has soared to a sweltering 46 degrees Celsius, and we felt like we were being cooked in our motorcycle gear. Goulasch, kind of. Riding in such heat for a grueling ten hours requires stops every 30 minutes… once for water in and then again for after out… kind of. We were relieved to arrive in Kunduz by 20h00 and decided to call it a night in our air-conditioned room. Well, at least until 22h00. "These gentlemen want to talk to you." Déjà vu? Two Taliban entered, sat down, and spent about an hour going through all our gear, baggage, counted our cash. We had to bring out ALL the remaining luggage we had left on the motorcycles. To say we were thrilled with the experience would be an understatement. The gentlemen were from the Bamyan Intelligence. A drone had been spotted there a few days ago, and they were determined to track down the tourist responsible. Drones are not allowed in Afghanistan, understandably. Around 23h30, they apologized for the "inconvenience," and we packed up and went to sleep. It was definitely a smart move to leave our drone and satellite phones at home before starting this trip, considering the interrogations we faced in Iran and now here.

Day 62 - "Welcome to Tadjikistan," said the Tadjik captain with a friendly grin after we crossed the Amu Darya river at the Shir Khan border point. Russkiy? No, Swiss, we replied, realizing we were back in an ex-SSR. We loaded our bikes in Kunduz at 7:00 AM, had some fried eggs and bread, and headed to the border. We absolutely loved Afghanistan. But we really needed a break after the long ride and the rough off-road tracks. In Afghanistan, there’s no such thing as a break. After 10 hours in the saddle, you sit on the hard floor to eat. There are no chairs anywhere around. You’ll only find cold showers or a nearby stream to clean up. Electricity is either nonexistent or available only between 8 PM and 10 PM. You have to squat, and forget about toilet paper. Often, a hand gesture pointing to the nearest trees is the best you can get asking for a restroom. You’ll sleep on rugs or hard beds without a mattress. You always wake up by the sun at 5 AM because you either sleep outside or in a room without curtains. Due to all this, you soon look like a zombie due to lack of shut-eye. There’s no cold beer to ease the back pain from last night or wash the sand out of your throat. You eat with your hands, or at best, with a spoon and fork. But you also get a smile, a genuine and warm welcome, and everyone is always willing to help. You’ll find that washing your hands, face, and feet in the local sink is often all you need to feel refreshed. We realize that a sincere smile and sharing bread mean more than a soft bed. Still, we hope that in Dushanbe, we can enjoy an ice-cold beer over some burgers. Inshallah. We love you, Afghanistan.

Day 57 evening - We were incredibly fortunate that night; the warmth of one person's hospitality turned it into an unforgettable evening here in central Afghanistan. Ali spends the summer months here with his family, allowing the sheep to graze. Chickens are running around everywhere, the cow is next door, and the neighbours Labrador is playing with the old sheepdog. Just as the sun sets, numerous herds of sheep come down from the mountains, guided into the barns by the women and children. Ali's family lives here with twelve other families in the simplest of traditional homes made from mud and grass bricks. There’s no electricity or running water. We're at an altitude of 3000 meters, and after we had a tea and chat, Ali warms up the family room where we eat and sleep. He uses fuel pellets made from animal manure in the stove in the middle of the room. Before long, it becomes super cozy and warm. We have dinner on traditional rugs spread out on the floor and sleep on toshaks, which are floor cushions or narrow mattresses commonly used as beds or sofas here in Afghanistan. Two layers of heavy blankets keep us snug and warm; we haven't slept this well in ages. Before we say goodbye, we take some pictures with the family. Ali rides his son on a motorcycle for 30 minutes to the nearest village for school, and we ride off to Band e Amir National Park.

Day 58 - The journey from Ali's home to Band e Amir was absolutely amazing. We climbed to altitudes of up to 3600 m and then descended into lush green valleys that looked like a blend of Utah and Kazakhstan. It’s a beautiful mix of rolling dune-like hills, towering mountains, and striking rock formations. The colors shift from red to yellow to grey to white. In the valleys, you can find villages with traditional brownish homes and vibrant green fields. It feels like cruising through an open-air nature museum. The views are stunning, with charming villages positioned neatly on the valley flanks, with blue stream winding through the green fields. It’s hard to ignore the impact of 30 years of war here, leaving behind a lot of sorrow. Development has come to a standstill. On the bright side, the villages are still in their original state, likely unchanged for centuries. The absence of paved roads while driving through central Afghanistan means that commerce and progress are lacking, but it also helps preserve the peace, traditions, and sustainable way of life.

Day 59 - Bandar e Amir is the first national park in Afghanistan aimed at showcasing and preserving the stunning beauty of a series of vibrant blue lakes formed by natural dams in the Hindu Kush. We kicked off the morning by exploring the lakes on a pédalo - believe it or not, the Taliban are starting to promote tourism here - and then we cruised through the incredible landscape, uncovering more of this awe-inspiring spot. The pédalo adventure was quite a scene, as armed Taliban soldiers don’t really blend in with the tourists from Kabul enjoying their Pédalos. Plus, some of the soldiers looked eager to snap a few photos with their AK 47 against the gorgeous backdrop. So, that’s how it went. Surreal to say the least. We then set off towards Bamyan, crossing the plateaus that offered breathtaking views of the lakes and the surrounding Hindu Kush mountain ranges.

Day 55 - Both bikes were down on the ground. I lost my footing while navigating a rut on a steep climb, and Gion’s bike toppled over when he tried to lend a hand. My front end was misaligned and needed adjustment. Not a big deal. However, Gion’s bike wouldn’t start anymore due to the floated carb. And now his battery was drained from repeated starting attempts. That’s not ideal in the Afghan mountains. Besides: Also not optimal is that we need a sanitary stop every 30 minutes, Afghani food hygiene has done its thing by now. Ok. Fortunately, we managed to roll the bike down the hill where we remembered spotting a small motorcycle shop just 15 minutes earlier. And that’s exactly what we did. The shop was perfectly located, just for us. The team there handled both our problems, and we were back on the road. It’s a good thing there are probably hundreds of thousands of small motorcycles riding around here, so finding knowledgeable mechanics is easy. The all know how to repair old bikes as ours. The terrain became tougher to navigate, but it also grew more stunning. Flat plains and riverbeds gave way to gorgeous mountain ranges and winding roads. Once again, we rode into the midday sun and stopped at a small shop that let us rest for two hours. We were completely wiped out and overheated. We literally dozed off in the back of the shop on a rug, but the siesta worked its magic. Back on our bikes, we headed towards on our final destination for the day, the famous Minaret of Jam, a UNESCO World Heritage site here in Afghanistan.

Day 55 - evening. We made it to the Minaret just in time for sunset. Standing at 65m tall, it dates back to the 12th century and is nearly untouched. The scenery is breathtaking, nestled in a deep river valley surrounded by towering mountains. The Taliban, as impressive as they are said to be, are the ones guarding the site. They greeted us warmly and helped us transport our gear over the ropeway bridge from the trail to the Minaret, and letting us sleep beside it at the checkpoint. The soldiers of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (that’s what they call themselves) took us for a walk to the fruit trees and showed us how simple and beautiful life can be: the soldiers climbed the trees, shook the branches, we washed the ripe fruits that fell in the small stream close to the camp and we all shared stories over tea. It’s been a nice evening with the Taliban, at a magical place.

Day 56 - We had an awesome sleep and woke up at 5:45 AM. I headed back to the peach trees, climbed up, and shook our breakfast off the branches. After moving our stuff back over the ropeway, we hit the trail towards Chagcharan. The first few hours were fantastic, some of the best riding here; the roads were a bit smoother, allowing us to ride fast on the tracks. The scenery changed from narrow valleys to expansive plateaus. The elevation rose to between 2500 and 2800 meters, and we enjoyed a nice breeze instead of the scorching heat we faced in the previous days. We reached Chagcharan early after 5 hours of beautiful riding. "Hotel," Gion asked? No, the Taliban replied firmly. We mistakenly thought the Taliban headquarters was our hotel, which was actually right next door. While I was editing my photos in the lobby, two armed Taliban came in for tea, and we ended up chatting about Islam and the world. Why not.

Day 52 - Our first order of business was to get our bikes exported. Fortunately, we had a helpful border guard who guided us to various spots to finally get the necessary stamps for our carnet de passage. All done. Just 500 meters later, we reached the Iranian border exit. We saw it coming. Instead of simply stamping our documents and passports, the guard accompanied us to an office where three men in civilian clothes were waiting. Just for us, we felt. It was a bit like déjà vu and of course NOT part of the usual border exit procedure; it was another round of questioning. Thankfully, it only lasted 30 minutes. "You can go" - and we were on our way. “I’ll be back”, Schwarzenegger would have said in that very moment, and so am I. Goodbye Iran, we love you. The moment you cross the border, you enter a different world. Mad Max came to mind. Beautifully wild and chaotic, yet there’s a system to it. Everything seems a bit disorganized, but anything is possible. Sand and dust are everywhere. Hundreds of people seemingly lost but with a firm destination. Sherif and his younger broder were on a mission and helped us navigate through the various counters to get our passport stamps. As we drove out of the border area, it felt like stepping into a scene from Blade Runner. Afghanistan welcomed us with fierce, stormy winds, and the swirling sand turned the whole landscape into a frightening reddish haze. The winds were so intense that they knocked our 250 kg bikes flat over while we parked, and the horizontally flying sand got through our dustproof enduro masks. As we rode away, we felt heavy electric shocks when we touched the brake or clutch levers due to the static charge the passing sand created on our bodies insulated against the bikes ground system. We traveled the 150 km to Herat with one hand always on a metal part of the motorcycle to prevent the discharges, and leaning our bikes at 11 o'clock against the wind to fight against its force. We encountered two checkpoints but breezed through them, now being seasoned pros in this matter. Even the Taliban didn’t intimidate us. Not yet.

Day 53 - We spent the day in Herat taking care of some admin. We had to get Afghan SIM cards and some cash. New country, new admin tasks. We also took the chance to clean our clothes and wash our bikes. Everything went smoothly, and we spent the rest of the day exploring the city, especially the Grand Mosque. Just like in Iran, it’s always picture time wherever we go. We find ourselves surrounded by at least 20 kids everywhere! In the evening, we headed to the local stadium to watch an Afghani soccer match between two Herat clubs. They serve tea in the stands, which is a bit different from the beer back in Belgium. On the bright side, while most people at home would be a bit tipsy by halftime, here all the Afghans go to the field to pray together: All the men line up facing Mecca on the grass. It’s quite a sight. We were impressed. Gion and I were the only ones left in the stands, so we definitely felt a bit out of place :)

Day 53 - Today was also the day to give our bikes a good clean. We really needed to wash off the sand from yesterday's sandstorm that hit us while we were between the border and Herat. We took care of it all at the local car wash. We also lubed our chains and made a few minor repairs from the falls we took. Great to have some clean bikes again, although we suspected it would not last long.

Day 48 and 49 - We were all set to get our Afghan visas today! Or so we thought. But, as usual, we showed up at a bad time. This time it’s Thursday, right at the start of the weekend. The embassy is closed again, so we have to wait until Saturday morning. It’s not the worst situation in the beautiful and holy city of Mashhad, but it’s not exactly the best time for sightseeing either. We feel it’s safer to just stay in the hotel. In the end, we spend the two days in some of Mashhad's beautiful cafes, nestled in the inner courtyards of old Persian houses. It’s peaceful here under the trees, and the days fly by as we read our books and savor delicious coffee and Iranian cuisine. The internet is still down, leaving us completely cut off. No phone, no data. The only updates we get are from the TV. Google works, but only the official Iranian news sites load. So, we can’t exchange any news at all; we’re completely in the dark. We find out that similar blackouts have occurred during past attacks to hinder the guidance and coordination of drones. Our concern is for our loved ones who haven’t heard from us. There are attacks happening tonight in Mashhad. While a large wedding party arrives for dinner around 9:30 PM, I’m in the lobby watching FIFA Club World Cup. I am feeling the ground shake and hear the sounds of bomb impacts. I start to feel uneasy and step outside. “Attack tonight,” says the night guard calmly. They keep on with the wedding inside. The whole situation feels surreal. Gion is on the phone on the 7th floor, calling with a friend who’s with her family just outside Tehran using an Iranian number. We finish our pasta on the rooftop, watching the last salvos from the air defense batteries for the night. The wedding has wrapped up as well downstairs. Tomorrow, we really need to get those visas.

Day 50 - Finally! We made it to the Afghan consulate in Masshad, Iran at 07h00. It took us 6 hours, but we managed to get both our visas and the road permit for our motorcycles. To be honest, we forgot to ask for the road permits and had to go through the whole administrative process twice. Anyway, the staff at the Afghani consulate were fantastic and remained calm despite the hundreds of people rushing for visas. Many are leaving Iran for Herat in Afghanistan, then flying to Kabul, and from there to Istanbul and onto Europe. A lot of people prefer this route over the 2000 km journey through Iran to the Turkish border. For us, entering Afghanistan is the next step in our journey. Now we just have to hope that the border to Afghanistan is still open tomorrow. We still need the regional permits, as Afghanistan requires a permit for every region we pass through. Our contact in Afghanistan, Aryan, will arrange those for us tomorrow. It took us two weeks, including our time in Tehran, to secure these visas. We feel like things are finally progressing, and we deserve to unwind this afternoon with a nice latte and cake. Plus, we’re looking forward to enjoying a hookah on the rooftop tonight. We’ve already packed our gear and are ready to leave early for a long ride to the border tomorrow.

Day 45 - We halted our posts in the last few days because of the situation here in Iran. Since last Tuesday, we have been in Tehran, experiencing the first two nights of bombings on Friday and Saturday. We hear the bomb impacts and anti-aircraft batteries firing throughout the night. The situation was slightly concerning, but we felt safe and had shelter. More importantly, we were surrounded by wonderful people, mostly Iranians who were on holiday or business in Tehran. We spent the days talking, cooking… and following the news. On Sunday afternoon, the impacts came closer to the center of Tehran where we were staying, prompting us to leave and head east towards Mashhad. Our plan is to exit through Afghanistan, but we need visas for that. Unfortunately, the Taliban embassy in Tehran is still closed. However, Mashhad is open, three days to ride there, so we are trying our luck. We hope also the border remains open, as Pakistan is already closed. Every day, we encounter at least 3-4 army and police checkpoints now. We are always pulled out, of course we stand out with our big adventure motorcycles. Just last night, one of us, along with all our gear and electronics, was taken to an office for questioning. We understand this is part of the process now. The police and military have been very kind, always polite, and they apologize before the interrogations. Afterward, it’s tea and a photo for Instagram ;) We recognize they are just doing their job. So many people have been helping us, offering us food and shelter for the night. Goodbyes are always emotional and often come with tears. We feel very fortunate to be here even in this complicated situation. We hope that all the friends and people we’ve met here in Iran, along with their families, are safe. Our hearts go out to them and to Iran.

Day 46 - We left Saha and Nader, heading eastward in an attempt to reach the sacred city of Mashhad, all while dealing with temperatures soaring to 40 degrees Celsius in northern Iran. We traveled along the Kuhurasan Road, which back in the days linked Baghdad or Mesopotamia across the Iranian plateau to Central Asia and China. In addition to the heat, numerous roadblocks kept us on our toes. Just before we reached Shahroud, of course, my clutch cable snapped. I could still ride, but stopping gradually became impossible. No checkpoint please, no checkpoint, I thought but of course there it was right at the entrance of Shahroud. The police and army officers were friendly and allowed us to pass after a quick run through our documents. I shifted gears without using the clutch; these old bikes are tough enough to handle it. However, there was no way I could manage another 500 kilometers to Mashhad like this. It was already dark, but thanks to Amin and Aida, whom we met along the way, we located a shop that had a clutch cable and another one that was able to perform the necessary repairs! My bike was in the shop, and it was already 8 PM. And then we saw the white car stopping and guys getting out. We knew the drill. A team from the IRGC (Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps) approached us. They were polite, asked questions, checked our papers, and did their job. But they were not done. We had to load all our gear into their car: our luggage, motorcycle gear, helmets... and Gion. It was a distressing sight to see my son riding off with four other men dressed in black camouflage in that car. Calm now. The arrangement was that they would call Amin’s phone once the interrogation was done. After a distressing three-hour wait they finally called. All clear. They returned Gion… and our gear. I had never been so relieved to see my son again. We were aware that such situations could arise; it had happened to others. However, experiencing it ourselves was not for the faint-hearted. Yet again, the IRGC team was courteous, professional, and very friendly. We understood that this would not be our last encounter.

Day 35 - Onward to Tehran! We packed up our camp and set off, eager to arrive in Tehran by evening. The route led us through the mountains down to Qazvin, and from there, it was a straight shot to Tehran. The stones in the mountains were again more reddish and sandy compared to the coastal side, opening up into what seemed as hundreds of valleys. Down below, rice fields wherever we saw. Along the way, we took a break at a small home style restaurant with a stunning view of the valleys below, where we enjoyed a delicious Persian-style tomato omelette accompanied by fresh onion and lavash, the thinnest Iranian bread. Reaching Tehran has always been a dream of mine, and it felt incredible to roll into the city on the eve of my birthday after traveling over 8000 km.

Day 36 - "Embassy closed. Come back Sunday". That was unfortunate news. We got to the Afghan embassy in Tehran bright and early to sort out our visas for Afghanistan. However, it seems to be a recurring theme on our journey: in nearly every country we visit, there are some kind of holidays just about when we need to get things done and the offices are closed. This time, it’s the Eid celebrations this week, and the Taliban are on holiday. We have two choices: either stay in Tehran until Sunday, which would set our trip back by 5 days, or head east to Mashhad to get our visas processed there. We opt to spend a few days in Tehran to explore the city and prepare our bikes for the next part of our journey. It’s a perfect opportunity to check out the Persian carpet artisans in Tehran's Grand Bazaar and savor some Persian cuisine at Vakil Tojjar restaurant for my birthday.

Day 32 - We’re heading east through northern Iran aiming to hit the Caspian Sea, the biggest inland body of water in the world, at Astara. Our journey starts by climbing up from the desert-like plains near Tabriz, reaching rolling green mountains at over 2000m in altitude to end with diving down sharply to the Iranian coast in Astara which is at -22 meters under sea level. It’s June 5, and Iran is celebrating its Khordad Uprising holiday, which honors the 1963 protests against the arrest of Ruhollah Khomeini. Everywhere we look, we spot Iranian families having picnics in the mountains and hills, soaking up the peace away from the bustling city life. Just before we get to Astara, we run into Hamed and his buddy, two Iranian bikers on the same route as we are. Hamed quickly invites us to stay at a resort by the sea, managed by his father, where we can pitch our tents just 2 meters from the Caspian Sea. Pure magic!

Day 33 - We set off from Astara, heading along the coastline towards Bandar Anzali and then south to Rasht. Many of the beaches here remain untouched, allowing us to take our bikes onto the sand along the shore and ride for kilometers between the sand and the sea. But the heat seeps into our bones and after covering hundreds of kilometers in the past few days, we desperately need a break. We head north to Rasht and check into a friendly local youth hostel. Really a lovely place here, we meet many Iranian students, got to listen to local artists like Homayoun Shajarian, and I discovered that my tea is far too strong and needs to be diluted with more water. In any case, we decided to spend another day here to get our visas extended and to relax.

Day 34 - Finding a safe spot to park your bike for the night can be tough, but we managed to get them securely into the super nice Orosi hostel courtyard in Rasht. We decided to stay here for an extra day to sort out our visas: Gion’s was only good for two more weeks, which wasn’t enough to reach the border of Afghanistan. We set out early to the police station that handles external affairs, visas, and passports, and we both got an extension until beginning of July. The process here in Rasht was straightforward, took only about 60 minutes, and cost us only 2 euros. As usual in Iran, the officials were super friendly and helpful. We met amazing people here at the hostel, if you are in Rasht, it’s a great place to stay.