Pamirs 15

We pass military patrols somewhat frequently, walking the hw in camouflage fatigues, from cap to boot, despite the oppressive heat. Kalashnikov riffles are swung over their shoulder and they march in groups of 3-4 making no eye contact as we pass them by.

We race the sunset's elongating shadows as the road winds its way to the Wakhan Corridor.  We see the snow capped Hindu Kush for the first time, the massif towering overhead, in the far distance.