​Cycling through Afghanistan on a mountain bike: “Forced to meet people”

Everything’s different when you’re on your own

BIKE: You’ve travelled a lot. Where have you been on your bike so far?

Cédric Tassan: I’ve travelled a lot in the past – to the USA, Peru, India and Kenya. Often with friends. I’ve also worked as a filmmaker with Hans Rey on documentaries. In 2021, I started setting off on my own by bike.

Why on your own?

Actually, I didn’t want to travel on my own at all. But in 2021, shortly after the pandemic, I wanted to go somewhere for a cycle ride in the summer. I asked some friends, but it was too short notice for everyone in August. So I thought: Right, I’ll just go on my own then.

My first solo destination was Kyrgyzstan. I’d never been to Asia before – and I was immediately captivated. Those landscapes! You can see ten, twenty kilometres away because there are hardly any trees. And the people were incredibly friendly. I was welcomed in every village.

Next came Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan – and finally Afghanistan, twice.

What is the biggest difference between travelling with friends and travelling on your own?

On your own, you’ll need to keep all your senses on the alert. Where shall I sleep? Which trail shall I follow? Which village shall I head for? Who shall I ask? Every decision is up to you.

And you’re forced to meet people. If you’ve got no one with you to talk to, you automatically seek out the locals. That can be exhausting – but that’s exactly where the reward lies.

You tell them who you are, try their food, and sit with them. If you’re out with a friend, one of you can do the talking whilst the other takes a break. On your own, you have to do everything yourself. It takes energy, but in return you really connect with people.

Afghanistan: wild, beautiful, complex

Which country has been the most difficult so far?

Afghanistan.

The wildest one?

Afghanistan.

The best bit?

Afghanistan, too.

I wouldn’t have expected that. Why this country of all places?

Because Afghanistan is one of the last countries where genuine discovery is still possible. You can reach places that hardly anyone knows about – villages, valleys, mountains. You’re not just a tourist following a set route. You’re really exploring.

But preparation is everything there, isn’t it?

Absolutely. You need to know where you can go – and where you’d be better off not going.

In a normal adventure, something is dangerous because it is remote, high up or steep. In Afghanistan, there is an additional dimension: political and ethnic conflicts. There are areas about which nobody has any information.

You can spend a day riding through a valley where there are no problems at all, and suddenly find yourself in an area that nobody knows anything about. Who lives there? Which group is in control? Is there a trail that’s rideable? Nobody knows.

And then there are the Taliban.

Yes. There are checkpoints everywhere in the major valleys. You have to explain who you are, where you’re going and what you’ll be doing there. Sometimes the Taliban are friendly; sometimes they try to intimidate you. In that case, you must stay calm and not let on that you’re afraid.

As a foreigner on a bike, you’re bound to look a bit out of place. Some people wonder: Is that a spy? Why does he have a GPS? Is he trying to map out locations for drones?

So you’re never completely free?

At first, I thought the opposite. In 2024, I thought: things will get complicated in the large valleys with their villages, but as soon as I get into the mountains, I’ll be free.

It was exactly the other way round.

In the valleys, I was able to cycle, visit villages and meet people. It was in the mountains that the real problems began.

Landmines instead of campfires

What’s happening there?

I wanted to visit a region inhabited by the Hazara. The Hazara are Shia and are considered to be very hospitable. I was indeed given a wonderful welcome in the village.

But as soon as you leave the village, you’ll come across nomadic groups – the Kuchi. In the mountains, such encounters can become very unpleasant. They’ll want to know who you are, and may even take your passport – and some of them are armed.

The problem is: there’s no one out there. If anything happens, no one will find you.

On top of that, there are landmines.

Exactly. And that completely changes the way you behave.

In a valley, someone tells you: ‘There are mines on the right-hand side; it’s safe on the left.’ In the next village, you hear exactly the opposite.

All of a sudden, you start moving like a paranoid passer-by.

Even when going to the loo?

That’s exactly when! (laughs)

If you need to go in the middle of a trail, you can’t just head 50 metres off the beaten track. After all, you don’t know if there’s a mine there.

So you take it step by step, look carefully and hope that everything goes well. After all, I’m no mine clearance expert.

Have you ever seen one?

No. And if you do see one, it’s probably too late anyway.

"Stay calm"

You’ve got a family. What does your partner think of trips like this?

She follows my expeditions. I try to learn something from every adventure and prepare myself better for the next one.

For her, it’s above all a matter of trust. If she were panicking at home, I wouldn’t be able to relax whilst I’m out and about. I need to know that she trusts me and that I’m doing everything I can to come back safely.

You’ve spoken to the Taliban a lot. What did they say about the West?

Very open. I was sometimes invited to stay with them; on one occasion, I spent almost a whole day and a night in a remote area.

We used our mobile phones to translate. They see themselves as resistance fighters. Their attitude is something like: If you come into our country with weapons, we’ll kill you. This is our country; we decide for ourselves how we live. But: if you come on a bike with peaceful intentions, then there’s no problem – you’re welcome.

Can you understand this attitude?

Yes. When a foreign country invades your country with weapons and dictates how you should live, it is hard not to understand the resistance to it.

Afghanistan’s history has shown this time and again.

The moment Afghanistan disappears

How long were you there in total?

Almost two months.

And what stands out most in your memory?

The moments when I forgot I was even in Afghanistan.

That might sound strange. But when you’re sitting in a village, chatting to people, eating together, and suddenly it’s only that encounter that matters – then the whole image of this ‘crazy country’ that almost nobody wants to visit simply disappears.

You’re just there. With those people. And those are exactly the moments that stay with you.

So there’s no danger, then?

No. People.

And perhaps that is the biggest surprise of this journey: the further I cycled, the less it was about Afghanistan as a dangerous country. And the more it was about Afghanistan as a place where people live, laugh, eat, work and are curious about a mad Frenchman on a bike.