It was a Tour de France moment, minus the speed. Cycling out of Murgab, it felt special for a while, as locals yelled and whistled to grab my attention. Kids running along the bike cheering, but that was for a reason. I was told earlier in the week that I was the first backpacker of the season. Here for 5 days I would be 320km from the nearest tourist and that tourist was riding on a bike. With its scenery ranging from Mars to Pluto it was a spectacularly remote feeling. The sound of silence was only broken by the occasional cool breeze and the racist dogs that can smell a foreigner a mile away - Even with the wind going the other way. My brief moment on the bike was treated to a cyclist’s tradition
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