So where are you now?

In the two months since my last post took place, The Path with Heart in the Armenian highlands, I’ve covered a lot of ground.

I journeyed twice more into the stellar heights of the Caucasus of Georgia, intrepidly set off across the Caspian Sea on a cargo ferry from Azerbaijan to Kazakhstan, went in search of the Aral Sea in western Uzbekistan, steeped myself in the rich history of the great cities and outposts of the Silk Road, ventured deep into the Tian Shan mountains of eastern Kyrgyzstan, and even attended a wedding in Bishkek, among much else.

I have outlined and even drafted parts of these fabulous tales. They will come…

But I also have not had consistent WiFi, conducive composition space, nor much time in between mountain adventures, logistical planning, and simply enjoying the places I am.

And to my dear readers, I endeavor to deliver gripping and insightful accounts that instill within you the real sense of the weight of a pack on your shoulders while climbing an impossibly steep mountain pass, achieving a flow state while overcoming the anxieties of navigating from one end of the middle-of-nowhere to the other, and delighting in the heartwarming joys of those curious cultural engagements that remind you why the hell you’re so far out on the other side of the planet in the first place.

Good story telling requires time to do it justice. I demand that of myself and you that follow along deserve it.

And I am now writing from my phone in the village of Sary Mogul, in southwestern Kyrgyzstan in the Alay valley at the foot of the purely stunning Pamir mountain range and border of Tajikistan.

Tomorrow I and three companions will journey in a hired jeep for a week along the famous Pamir highway, the second highest road in the world, as we make our way through eastern Tajikistan and along the Wakhan corridor bordering Afghanistan. Thereafter, our same party will race to complete a week long hike on the Pamir trail before summer fades entirely and the early snows of autumn coat the high peaks of the range in a season-ending white veil.

Needless to say, I won’t be writing for at least a couple more weeks.

But I have stories to tell and write them I must.

Stay tuned and be well, friends.