Tajikistan was supposed to be a big part of our trip to the Stans. In fact, there was a time when I had around 3 weeks set aside to enjoy its various charms and attractions – the world-famous Pamir Highway, the huge mosque in Khujand, yet another lake named after Alexander the Great, at least one multi-day mountain trek, plus… the Seven Lakes of the Fann Mountains.
However, one thing after another slowly chipped away at this ambitious itinerary. For starters, Laynni flat out didn’t want to do the Pamir Highway – apparently, spending 7-10 days bouncing around in the back of a jeep full of strangers, braving cold weather, high altitudes and extremely basic accommodations outweighed the cool scenery and an iconic name. Then, everything else we tried to plan just seemed unorganized and transportation around the rest of the country sounded hard, not to mention outrageously expensive.
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Finally we just said, fine, enough is enough, Tajikistan. Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan seem more than happy to keep us entertained for longer than originally planned. For now, you just focus on getting your shit together, maybe coordinate some semblance of a consistent public transportation system and we’ll circle back in a couple years, how’s that sound?
Speaking of Uzbekistan, though, well, not only do they have their own tourism industry honed down to the finest detail, they’ve even worked out an impressive system to allow visitors to Samarkand – their most popular Silk Road city – to skip across the Tajik border and experience the wonderful Seven Lakes road and still be back in a comfortable Uzbek hotel enjoying shashlik and plov by nightfall. So we decided that, for now, that would have to suffice.
Now, for the lakes. Although I’m loathe to ruin the surprise, the name probably gives you a pretty good idea what the big draw is. That’s right, seven beautiful lakes. Also known as Haft Kul in Tajik because, surprise, surprise, Haft Kul means “Seven Lakes”. These spectacular lakes are all connected by the Shing River and located small distances apart at increasingly higher elevations along a very rough, dusty dirt road leading up into the picturesque Fann Mountains.
Which, I think, pretty much covers it. Oh, wait, did you say something? No, I’m pretty sure you did. You want me to go through a long list of additional questions, providing occasionally useful, occasionally useless, answers mostly off the top of my head? Yeah, don’t be shy, I’m pretty sure that’s what you said. And, boy, I can definitely deliver that. Can I ever.
The Seven Lakes of the Fann Mountains Map
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The Seven Lakes of the Fann Mountains FAQ
How do you get to the Seven Lakes from Samarkand?
Samarkand, one of the world’s classic Silk Road cities, is just an hour’s drive from the Tajik border. And if you book a full tour like most people (including us), they will organize a driver to pick you up from your hotel and take you to the border. We started our tour booked with GoldSilk Tours in a small car with just 2 other tourists for that leg of the trip. You then cross the border on your own (or maybe you’ll have some sketchy fellow tourists for company – more on that later) to meet up with a Tajik guide and driver who will handle everything on that side.
What is the closest town in Tajikistan?
Panjakent is located about 20 km from the Uzbekistan border and is the jumping off point for trips up the old road to the seven lakes. Panjakent is not that big (around 50k) and pretty dusty, but the name rolls off the tongue nicely and there are quite a few guides there who specialize in trips to the Seven Lakes.
How far is it to the last lake?
It is around 50 km from Panjakent to the first of the Seven Lakes, then another 15 km or so to the seventh and final lake. Which doesn’t sound like very far, I’ll admit. However, because of the, um, questionable condition of the road, it will still take over an hour just to reach the first lake. Then, as the road continues to get worse the higher you go, plus adding in stops for photos, bathroom breaks, lunch and occasionally a stop to investigate a mysteriously ominous noise coming from under the van, it will probably take around 3 more hours to make it to the last lake.
So how long is the entire trip?
Well, that will depend on a few things, such as whether your first driver shows up on time (ours did in the morning, not so much at night), on if you have to deal with any border shenanigans (not much on the way there, some stressful delays on the way back), on how efficient your group is at selfie-taking on precarious rocks in a strong wind (fair, at best) and how badly your guide wants to get back to the city to get started on her exciting Friday night plans (quite badly, it seemed).
Which, in our case, meant we were picked up at 7 am and dropped off at 8 pm. Which is 13 hours, because nobody said that reading this meant you’d have to do math and shit.
How many people are in each group?
Well, that’s variable also but, in most cases, including ours, there were 12 tourists, one guide (Dilu) and one driver (Ali). And, in keeping with tradition during our time in the Stans, there was no discernable pattern to the nationalities of our fellow lake-o-philes. In addition to us 2 Canadians, there were 8 more countries represented among just 10 people. England, France, Australia and Japan – not so surprising. Egypt, Belarus, Romania and Poland, however – definitely not as common. And the English guy also had an Irish passport, which seemed cool at first but, in the end, did not necessarily help matters.
How tricky is the border crossing?
For a pair of Canadians? Pretty simple. Actually, seven other nationalities had no issues either. Visa-free for most countries, all you need is your passport. Sure, there was an almost comical number of border officials who insisted on seeing our passports so they could alternately stamp, peruse, study and/or use them as unconventional fans. All of which was always accompanied by a determined frown, usually a deep sigh and never a hint of joy. But they WERE quick, I’ll give them that.
Of course, we just had the one passport each. Unlike our British friend (“there are some who call him… Tim”) who rode with us from Samarkand, and who also had second passport courtesy of his Irish grandparents. Which, you’d think, would be a benefit, since British citizens need a visa to enter Tajikistan and EU citizens do not. However… apparently having two passports is NOT a benefit if you use one (British) to enter Uzbekistan but then need to use the Irish (EU) one to enter Tajikistan because, for starters, they can’t stamp you out of Uzbekistan in the Irish passport because it has no entry stamp. And they can’t stamp you INTO Tajikistan in an Irish passport with NO stamps at all from Uzbekistan, the country in which you are currently standing.
So, how to deal with this dilemma? I mean, there were a few different options, I suppose. Each of which, in hindsight, would probably have worked better than the one he ended up going with. Which was, basically, just ignore it. After being turned back somewhere around border official 4 or 5 – I lost track – he started to trudge forlornly back toward the first border checkpoints. But then he noticed that there was quite a lineup at both of them. “Quite a queue”, was probably what he actually thought, being British and all. Either way, at that point he considered things for a minute, then decided, nah, not doing that.
So, instead, he just turned around and started walking in the general direction of Tajikistan. He caught up with us just before the last checkpoint where we were stopped by a rather bored-looking guard checking passports that, as far as he knew, had already been approved several times. He gave Laynni’s a quick look, gave mine no more than a cursory glance and then, suitably comforted as to our overall legality and meticulous rule following, just waved the trailing Brit through.
Welcome to Tajikistan!
Does your guide appear like an apparition on the other side of the border?
Yes, she really does. When she approached us my first thought was that she was about to offer us a taxi, try sell us a SIM card or maybe invite us into her nearby meat restaurant. But then I realized she already knew our names. And, apparently, the authority to tell us where to stand. Finally, I started to catch on.
Does the tour stop in Panjakent?
It sure does. First stop, the Panjakent Bazaar (market). Theoretically to shop, although for what exactly was not clear. There were lots of spices, so maybe those. Also, we could change money if needed. But mainly we wandered around in a big clump for a few minutes, then waited outside a small restaurant while Dilu picked up snacks and packed lunches for us which, I have to admit, did come in handy.
Will you get to visit a magnet shop?
And how! It will be tiny and crowded and full of magnets, just like you probably hoped. Plus other souvenirs, as well, just in case all the metal surfaces in your home are completely full, I guess.
Is the vehicle cool?
Nope, not even a little. It IS functional, though. A big white van with the exact right amount of seats and good enough suspension to handle terrible roads.
Speaking of, what is the road like?
Well, pretty terrible, like I said. Narrow. And rocky. And somehow both dusty AND muddy, although usually not in the same spots. So, yeah, you’ll bounce around a lot. However, it does make it much easier to enjoy the stops by comparison.
How long are the stops?
Pretty short, actually. Usually just 5-10 minutes, enough time to take a few photos, explore a little (carefully within sight of the van) and, occasionally, chat with some locals selling stuff / grilling you about your football opinions. However, at the seventh and final lake we were given just under an hour to walk to the lake (10 min) and then, if we wanted, continue farther on the nice, flat hiking trail running along the western shoreline.
What’s the weather like?
That’s what weather apps are for, my friend. They can get it wrong way better than I can. But, in our case, in late September the temperature was perfect, mid-20’s most of the time. It got a bit cooler and windier by the time we made it up to the last lake but, basically, it was “lightly sweating in a t-shirt” early on and “lightly complaining about having to put on a windbreaker” by the end. In more general terms, though, you can visit the Seven Lakes from May to November.
What about lunch?
What about it? I mean, we had it, they provided it and, this being the Stans, it was, obviously, plov. Which, in case you’re not familiar, is a rice / meat / veg dish, sometimes fried, sometimes not, sometimes greasy, sometimes not. In this case, yes, fried, and, yes, greasy. And, yes, also very good.
Plov actually has some similarities to “pilaf”, and not just because of the name. But definitely partly because of the name. Either way, they are both Persian/Iranian in origin. And, in my opinion, quite a bit better when they’re greasy.
Was the cowshit atmospheric or merely unfortunate?
A bit of both, really. It’s true, the best flat lunch-eating rocks were rather close to some large piles of cowshit, but not RIGHT next to them, so it could have been worse. To be honest, the curiosity of the cow in question was more annoying, sticking his big mucous-y snout into everyone’s lunch like he would have actually been okay with eating a meal with beef in it. Unlikely, I’d say, or possibly deranged. Either way, piss off.
Will you meet locals along the way?
Definitely. The road passes through a couple villages where people are just going about their normal lives, completely used to (and definitely bored of) the half-dozen vans filled with tourists that pass through everyday.
At a couple stops there are a few women and children selling stuff and, although we were very clear about not being in the market for any new friendship bracelets, the Romanian girl took the plunge, triggering a bit of a frenzy. Needless to say, I have a pretty good idea what all her friends are getting for Christmas this year.
Why do a lot of the kids look 30?
That one’s a bit of a mystery. Old souls? Not sure. I mean, you could tell right away they were kids, I suppose based mainly on height and clothing. But then if you looked closer a lot of them had surprisingly strong features, heavy eyebrows and mature eyes that sometimes made me second-guess my original assessment. So, either that’s just how the kids look around there, or maybe they simply possess a worldliness and maturity I rarely see in my friend group of emotionally stunted middle-aged Canadians. Or maybe the kids just spend too much time in the sun.
Messi or Ronaldo?
…demanded the small boy in a no-nonsense tone accompanied by a fierce, challenging stare. Well, Messi, obviously, don’t be silly. Ok, he said, expression softening slightly, Ronaldo or Salah? Salah, obviously! We can play this game all day, kid, it’s never going to be Ronaldo. And, while that last bit of colloquial English seemed to confuse the issue a bit, he was clearly satisfied with my initial answer, proudly turning to display the prominent “Salah” adorning the back of what I only now realized was a Liverpool jersey. Ah, yes, you like Salah? I asked. He nodded vigorously. But he plays for Trabzonspor now, eh? Hnnn, Turkey, he grunted, with an angry frown. Followed by a forlorn shake of the head. I hear you, buddy, but we all knew an eventual move to Turkey was likely ever since that summer he showed up back at training camp with a brand new head of hair.
Which lake is best?
They are all quite photogenic, although the background peaks get more impressive the farther up you go. But Hazorchashma, lake seven, really stands out. It is by far the biggest and the only one where you can enjoy a bit of a hike. As you get near the far end you can actually see down another valley toward a whole different set of snow-capped peaks. Plus, there’s an outhouse.
Is the elevation a problem?
Not for humans. The first lake just 1,600 metres above sea level and even the last one is only at 2,400 metres. An altitude which I would describe as noticeable but certainly not problematic. More of, “Hunh, climbing that rock got me a little out of breath. Either it’s the elevation or I really need to cut down on the plov.”
Did the Egyptian guy think he was on a private tour?
It kind of felt that way. Between asking advice on future destinations, getting Dilu to make calls on his behalf to find hotels rooms and organize additional transport farther into Tajikistan (yet never accepting any of the clearly excellent deals she found for him) and insisting they really should take him for a private stop at the Sarazm ruins, it did seem like he was probably a bit confused about why, exactly, the rest of us were hanging out in his van all day.
Was his apple theft rude or actually nice?
On the way back to Panjakent, we stopped off at a gas station for snacks and a bathroom break. We were also told that we could help ourselves to the apple trees in the adjacent lot. Politely appreciative, most of us went and grabbed a fresh, juicy apple. Nice. Our resident Egyptian, though, had bigger plans. Namely, filling his shirt with about a dozen apples, as many as he could fit, apparently. So, of course, rude, right? Yeah, except then he started walking around handing them out, which I suppose was kind of nice. Except that the people who actually wanted apples already had them, so most declined, and the others, well, they still didn’t want one but now felt compelled to accept. Then had to carry them from then on.
Is the gas station squat toilet disgusting?
I guess it depends what you’re comparing it to. Was it as nice as a 4-star hotel bathroom with marble counters and a multi-jet whirlpool? No, obviously not. Was it as bad as the rickety wooden outhouses of Mongolia built over large, disgusting holes in ground that require you to balance precariously on two dangerously flexing 2x4s? Not quite that bad, no. I mean, the floor was made of real concrete and everything, after all. But, no, that particular squat toilet wasn’t great.
Either way, thought, as soon as Tim found out it was a squat toilet he was having none of it, for the rather surprising reason being that he does not, in fact, believe in them. Squat toilets, I mean. As in, there is no way that half the world actually prefers to squat rather than sit. Not still, not after generations of British colonizers had already pointed out the errors of their ways. Ungrateful, at best.
Van sing-a-long, yay or nay?
To the surprise of no one, I’m sure, we were firmly “nay”. I mean, it’s not like we were drunk or anything. Give me 8 Original 16s and throw on some Tom Petty and I might be dtd (down to duet). But that’s about the only scenario. In this case, the one Belarusian girl timidly and briefly joined Dilu but it was half-hearted at best, which, if we’re being honest, is about as much enthusiasm as “Country Roads” warrants.
What did Dilu think about Tim not getting an entry stamp?
“It’ll be fine”.
Clearly he’d been considering his situation throughout the day and was now a little concerned that he may have made a mistake. So he explained the situation to her and, to his pleasant surprise, she seemed totally unconcerned and even called someone to get a second opinion. No idea who – but whoever it was, they apparently echoed her confident indifference. Tim nodded, still wary but ever so slightly more relaxed.
What did the border officials think about Tim not getting an entry stamp?
“It is certainly NOT fine”.
Or something to that effect, presumably spoken in Tajik, or Uzbek, or maybe even Russian or Farsi (we were once again guide-free at this point so the only thing knew for sure was that we couldn’t understand anything). But that was definitely the gist of it, each of the 5 times he was detained, questioned and seemingly scolded. Meanwhile, every time he was interrogated, the rest of us waited outside together, optimistically hoping there was somehow strength and influence in forming an aimlessly milling group of foreign tourists. And maybe there was because, eventually, he was waved through, free and clear, and hopefully with all the proper stamps he needed to leave Uzbekistan again the following week.
What happens if your driver isn’t there when you get back into Uzbekistan?
You wait, find somewhere to sit down – maybe on a curb near a field – where you may or may not engage in a sneaky pee, and wait until he finally shows up about half an hour late. At least that’s what we did because, thankfully, Tim had gotten the driver’s WhatsApp number and kept us informed. Otherwise it would have been hella confusing. So cheers for helping us out with that part, mate, shame about the “being a Chelsea fan” thing.
Would you recommend seeing the Seven Lakes of the Fann Mountains on a day trip from Samarkand?
Yes, absolutely. Sure, it’s a very long day and you spend most of it inside a van or car. But the lakes are spectacular, Dilu was a wonderful and knowledgeable guide and there are just very few places where you can plausibly experience an entirely different country in a single day. Plus, the plov is included.
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About the Author
Dean Johnston
Dean Johnston quit his job as a financial planner in 2008 to travel the world, and has now visited all 7 continents and more than 90 different countries. He wrote his first blog entry in a sweltering internet cafe in Bali in 2000 and has been writing about their travels ever since, including publishing 3 travel books.
As Routinely Nomadic, Dean remains focused on providing informative travel guides, entertaining stories and useful social media content to readers from all over the world.