Afghanistan—a destination once popular with travelers—has, due to modern history, become virtually unvisited. Much of this fascinating country remains off-limits to regular travelers, with most governments cautioning their citizens against visiting.
However, there exists a unique part of this land, shielded from warfare and unrest; a hidden gem nestled between the majestic peaks of the Pamir and Karakorum ranges. Welcome to the Wakhan Corridor, a breathtaking mountainous expanse where a remote tribe of nomadic Kyrgyz people has lived in isolation for over a century, accessible only through an arduous four-day trek across high mountain passes and through deep gorges.
iBestTravel contributor Jonny Duncan embarked on a truly epic journey through the Afghan Wakhan. This story and photo diary chronicles his adventures in this lost land.
The UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office advises against all but essential travel to Afghanistan. Always check with your national government before planning any travel to Afghanistan.
Afghanistan: Entering the Unknown
The Wakhan Corridor is a narrow strip of land—its northern section in Tajikistan, the southern part in Afghanistan—established as a buffer zone during the Great Game, a historical period marked by espionage and conflict between the British and Russian empires in the 19th century. To the east lies China, and to the south, Pakistan.
Although this was my second visit to the Tajik side of the Wakhan, I always longed to explore Afghanistan. After several days spent dreaming of crossing the border, I found myself at the Afghan consulate in Khorog, Tajikistan, applying for a visa.
There, I met two other adventurers planning a drive up the Wakhan Corridor followed by a 10-day trek into the Little Pamir to meet the remote Kyrgyz community. They invited me to join them, and fortunately, they had a converted 4WD Land Rover serving as their mobile home.
Crossing the Border into Afghanistan
Nerves ran high as we approached the Afghanistan border control. Three Afghan soldiers, clad in modern military garb but armed with antique Russian rifles, observed us cautiously as we drove through the gates. Two dilapidated armored vehicles lay abandoned a few hundred meters past the checkpoint, stark reminders of the region’s turbulent past. However, our anxiety melted away as we exchanged smiles with the soldiers while handing over our passports.
It was a lengthy 10-hour drive along a rough, stony road—the singular route leading up the Wakhan Corridor—to the trek’s starting point. We planned to drive slowly eastward over the next two days, camping alongside the scenic Wakhan River, which cuts through the valley. From Sarhad, the furthest village on this road, we would embark on a four-day trek on foot to reach the remote area inhabited by the Kyrgyz.
During our drive, we paused at several villages, witnessing astonishment and warmth from the locals who greeted us with fresh bread. Children eagerly asked for photos while elders observed from the doorways of mud-brick homes. With autumn approaching, the trees gently transitioned from vibrant green to hues of yellow, offering much-needed shade from the intense high-altitude sun; the dust from the wheat harvest filled the air, signaling locals’ preparations for winter.
Trek into the Little Pamir
In Sarhad, few spoke English, but one local graciously offered us accommodation in his house. We also hired a trekking guide and donkeys to carry our supplies. The village may have been tiny, but it had one inviting feature: a hot-spring bath.
To reach the Kyrgyz, there were two available trails: an easier, lower-altitude path and a more challenging higher one. Each hike would last four days. We decided to start via the easier route, planning to spend two nights in a spacious valley where most of the Kyrgyz reside before returning on the tougher trail.
The trails are the main supply routes for the Kyrgyz and are frequently traversed by ten-strong yak caravans which transport goods swiftly. Afghan traders exchange rice and other products, while the Kyrgyz offer livestock, predominantly sheep. The first three days of trekking involved steady ascents and descents, following the rushing waters of the Wakhan River situated at the base of the towering, arid Pamir Mountains, passing remnants of ancient villages and isolated tombs.
At night, herders found rest in simple stone and mud-brick huts scattered along the path. Most of these shelters were cramped and unkempt, often covered in goat droppings. Herders would roll out thin canvas mats for sleeping. Within these huts, the scent of animals and burning wood lingered, as fires were lit for brewing tea—a staple beverage consumed endlessly. The atmosphere during the evenings was lively, allowing for social exchanges that involved smiles, sign language, and playful antics.
The Wakhan Kyrgyz
The Kyrgyz residing in this section of Afghanistan are nomadic, having historically migrated from Kyrgyzstan during summers to graze their livestock in the region’s grasslands surrounding small lakes. When the Wakhan Corridor was established in the late 19th century, thousands found themselves trapped within Afghanistan’s borders, now scattered in small communities across the valley.
On our fifth day, we stumbled upon an army checkpoint consisting of a few heavy canvas tents guarded by Afghan soldiers. Upon being asked for our permits, we realized that we had left the necessary paperwork with the police chief in Sarhad before beginning our trek. The soldiers escorted us into one of the tents while our guide communicated via radio with Sarhad. Eventually, we were instructed to spend the night at a mud hut near the checkpoint.
This compound hosted a small boarding school for about 15 Kyrgyz teenage boys. After days spent in cramped shelters, this accommodation felt luxurious: clean floors, comfy cushions, warm blankets, and a lifesaving wood-fired heater.
Evening brought cultural exchanges, as we taught the teenagers how to do handstands, while the Afghan soldiers pointed out their hometowns on a map and expressed their wishes for peace in their homeland.
The next morning, we were allowed to leave, provided we returned directly to the compound that day. Though disappointed, we were relieved to have permission to explore. We set off through frigid conditions towards a glacial lake, surrounded by numerous barren mounds dotting the landscape. After hours of trekking, we encountered a family in a yurt who welcomed us with obligatory tea. Their yurt, illuminated by a bare solar bulb, was adorned with carpets and piles of colorful cushions and blankets. Despite their remoteness, the Kyrgyz earned a living by trading livestock with Afghans, using some profits to purchase modern amenities.
An Icy Exit
Overnight, a severe storm engulfed the region, transforming the previously verdant landscape into a snowy expanse. The silence was only broken by the sound of crunching snow beneath our feet. Although summer ended just a month prior, autumn is fleeting in this highly unpredictable, high-altitude region. The return trek would undoubtedly be more challenging due to ice covering the ground.
The snowfall impeded our route through the high pass, leaving us no choice but to retrace our steps or risk becoming stranded. With eagles soaring overhead, we began our trek downwards, now navigating icy terrain. The path turned steeper as we departed the flat Kyrgyz valley. Over the next few days, we encountered traders, brewed tea, and spent cold nights sharing laughs in mountain huts once again. Thankfully, by the first day, the snow began to melt under the powerful alpine sun. We pressed on, gradually summiting the final 4200m pass on our last day. Sarhad village—our entry and exit point—was just hours away.
While standing there, peering over the stunning Wakhan Valley, the only profound thought that crossed my mind was the hot spring that awaited me after ten days without a wash. Upon arriving at the village, I dashed toward the small structure housing the spring, eager to soothe my weary muscles in the warm waters.
After one final night in Sarhad, we bid farewell to our guide and the local villagers, retrieved our four-wheel drive vehicle, and made our way back down the rocky road to Ishkashim—leaving the enchanting Wakhan Corridor behind.
