BMW adventure: Asia’s toughest roads in a €650 saloon

| 2 Jun 2026

Rough roads rising to 15,275ft above sea level, deserts, water crossings and 21 countries.

A total of 16,651 miles in a 36-year-old BMW saloon. Yes, the adventure is as unlikely as it sounds.

Many people dream of overlanding to remote regions of the world.

Many of them save for half their lives, sell their homes and buy the perfect vehicle, spending hundreds of thousands of euros.

But the opposite is possible, too: seven years ago ‘Theodor’, a 1988 BMW E34 520i, joined the family.

An epic drive across Asia took in some of the world’s most-challenging roads and least-friendly nations – in an ageing BMW that became an unlikely ambassador for peace

I bought the car for €650 and put some work into it over the years, and this sturdy machine became a true friend.

Sharing adventures is a great thing to do with good friends, so the idea was hatched to set off on the ultimate adventure with Theodor.

Few modifications were needed: a roof-rack was fitted in less than 10 mins, along with a steel sump-guard and some extra ground clearance courtesy of facelift 525i front springs and the ‘Eastern Europe’ package with Touring springs at the rear.

Inspired by a bicycle tour I did through Central Asia 11 years earlier, plus the Top Gear specials, I set off from Germany in April 2025, heading across the Balkans towards Turkey and Georgia.

The goal was to reach the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan – a famous route that is part of the old Silk Road, leading high into the Pamir Mountains.

The BMW E34 520i’s 16,651-mile road trip covered 21 countries

This road had been a serious challenge on a bike in 2014, with the extreme climate and thin air.

Would Theodor make it with his small, 2-litre six-cylinder engine? There was only one way to find out.

Before we made it to Tajikistan, a few challenges had to be tackled along the way: apparently, Azerbaijan hadn’t reopened its borders since COVID-19, so a rather expensive transit visa for Russia had to be organised in Tbilisi.

After that, Chechnya and Dagestan were an interesting experience: culturally they are very different from the rest of Russia due to a strong Islamic influence, and many police checkpoints and beautiful landscapes marked the way.

Perhaps surprisingly, no problems or difficulties were encountered, except for long border crossings while entering Russia from Georgia and exiting towards Kazakhstan.

The overland adventure’s outward European leg threaded through Bosnia

Kazakhstan is a world of its own: fuel costs around 0.35 cents a litre, and Theodor had to be filled up on a daily basis in order to cross the vast steppes under the burning, 40°C-plus heat.

He has no air-con, but a wet towel around the shoulders made it bearable.

Visiting the Aral Sea – or what is left of it – was an impressive experience.

Thanks to one of the few successful environmental projects in Central Asia, at least one part of the Aral Sea has been saved by a dam. Some good news in the desert!

There was less good news at the Uzbek border, where our drone was confiscated after an extremely thorough search: everything had to be unloaded and opened – even the rooftop tent.

The BMW 520i enjoys the view of Istanbul ahead

The drone caused a lot of excitement, and I was surrounded by six or seven border guards.

Most of them spoke only Uzbek – no English or Russian, which is usually the foreign language of choice in Central Asia.

After a long discussion, the officer in charge said he would make sure that the drone would be waiting for me at a specific Uzbek/Tajik border crossing, and I could get it back as long as I used that crossing on a particular date.

My hopes of seeing the drone again were low, but Theodor and I could finally enter the country of Uzbekistan, which has beautiful historic sights, friendly people and no noteworthy car culture – but amazing watermelons.

Emanuel’s €650 BMW travelled eastwards, all the way across northern Turkey

So far, Theodor had been handling the trip like an overland champion: an oil change here and there was all he had needed.

Whether it was small tracks in the Georgian mountains or endless roads through the burning Kazakh heat, the BMW was going strong.

While most of the trip was a solo experience, once in a while friends and family joined in.

My brother met up with me for the leg in Tajikistan – in many aspects the most exciting and challenging country.

And, believe it or not, the drone was indeed waiting at the Uzbek/Tajik border.

We left the burning heat behind us and ventured on small tracks high into the Turkestan Range – mountains lying north of Dushanbe, the Tajik capital.

The BMW 520i explores Georgia

The surprised faces of the locals suggested that no foreign vehicle had come this way for a long time as we headed for the tracks leading to the Obburdon Pass – at 12,800ft above sea level, the first proper high-altitude test for Theodor.

The drop in performance was significant: less oxygen means less power. Apart from that, the engine was running smoothly. Would we make it over the 15,275ft Ak-Baital pass in a few weeks’ time?

Following two days of dust and potholes, we were back on paved roads towards Dushanbe.

After another two days spent applying for and printing permits for the Pamir Highway, we set off towards the Afghan border.

But to be clear, this ‘highway’ doesn’t get any better than a normal country road, and 95% of it is much worse.

The route’s beginning along the Afghan border was freshly paved, though: China is investing heavily in the ‘new Silk Road’.

Another day, yet another puncture for the BMW 520i

After Kalaikhum, the road turns into a dismal track heading towards Khorugh. The lane is lined the entire time by the Panj river, which marks the border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan.

The river is not particularly large, so you can get a glimpse of life in rural Afghanistan, with Taliban flags fluttering in the wind.

Tajikistan is a poor country, by far the poorest in the post-Soviet Central Asian region, but next to Afghanistan it makes a wealthy impression.

After Khorugh, which sits at 6965ft above sea level, the real fun begins. The road climbs and quickly passes the 13,000ft mark, and that is combined with battered Tarmac at best, but mostly very bumpy and stony gravel.

Again the car lost power, but it wasn’t just the 36-year-old M20B20 engine that was suffering – humans struggle in this harsh environment, too.

It is never hot, but the sun is brutal and blinding, and the thin air means you are constantly out of breath: always think before moving and top up your oxygen supply with some extra-deep breaths.

Montenegro’s scenery is dramatic enough, but there were yet more difficult roads to come

Until Khorugh, the climb had been gradual, which allows the body to acclimatise; after Khorugh, taking it slow was the key: the trick is not to have too big an altitude jump as soon as you leave camp in the morning, because the body acclimatises much better during the night – an 2500ft elevation gain per night tends to be manageable.

Enough technicalities! The views up there are magnificent: endless, open landscapes, snow-covered mountains in the distance and utter emptiness.

The silence is deafening, the night skies are dazzling and the views take your breath away metaphorically as well as quite literally.

I can only recommend experiencing it for yourself; it can’t be described in words.

Theodor was starting to worry me. Antifreeze was leaking from the cooling system, and I had to top it up every morning.

My fault: the radiator was probably 36 years old, and I should have changed it before the trip.

Tajikistan’s rough routes and daunting landscapes were a challenge for the 1980s BMW

He also suffered a few flat tyres, but they were quick fixes with a tyre-repair kit and a compressor.

Following a few days surrounded by the vast beauty of the Pamir Mountains, plus a couple of detours towards the Wakhan Corridor and Kurteskei Valley, we reached Murghab, the only larger settlement on the high-altitude stretch of the Pamir Highway.

It is not the most appealing place: small houses scattered along the valley, at an altitude of 12,000ft. The people living here don’t appear to have much hope or perspective.

During the Soviet era, things were different: there was a stable power supply, along with buses and schools.

Only some of the poles for the power lines remain, and their cables are often missing, and the bus stops haven’t seen a bus in decades.

Not hours but days away from civilisation, life is hard in the Pamirs.

The BMW 520i crosses the Pamir Highway through Tajikistan

Our life also got a little tougher after leaving Murghab.

The smell of antifreeze filled the air, a lot of steam appeared and the radiator was dead for good – our location at around 13,500ft, far away from civilisation.

The low air pressure at this altitude also brings an entirely new set of challenges: water starts boiling at about 86°C, which is no problem as long as the car’s cooling system is under pressure.

That remains the case for as long as the system is in working order, but if there’s a leak – and Theodor had a leak – it starts boiling.

It was our first real breakdown in 11,000 miles: lots of steam and lots of drama, somewhere near the top of the world.

Spare parts are no option up there, so we rolled back towards Murghab, removed the radiator, cut the broken tube and sealed it as well as possible before setting off again.

The 15,300ft Ak-Baital Pass was the trip’s highest point – other travellers were few and far between

The stretch from Murghab to Kyrgyzstan is a tough one.

Heading straight to the Chinese border, the Pamir Highway passes the Ak-Baital Pass – 15,300ft above sea level and the highest point on the route.

Theodor fought his way up like a true champion. And if all that wasn’t challenging enough, we set up camp next on the pass at about 15,200ft above sea level.

Having made it to that altitude, it felt wrong to be on our way so soon the following day.

It was a cold night, and the mornings above 13,000ft always included some extra exercise to warm us up: Theodor doesn’t start above that height if the engine is cold, perhaps due to the air/fuel mix being too rich in the low-oxygen environment.

What he needs is a good push, and the engine starts immediately.

Big skies, great views and thin air; the classic BMW 520i conquered them all

One flat tyre later, we made it to Karakul Lake – a 16-mile-long, three-mile-wide body of water at 13,000ft, making it one of the world’s highest lakes.

While fixing the tyre, I noticed that the fuel-pressure regulator was leaking a little, so I adjusted the seal.

What I didn’t take into account was the amount of pressure on the regulator, which resulted in my face being blasted with petrol.

The mouth and nose were no problem, but a chemical burn in the eyes is a nightmare so far from a hospital.

Lots of water, dish soap and tears later, the pain was bearable; after a day, my eyes were fine.

At that point, a useful reminder to be extra careful, no matter what you do when so far from help.

A stricken cyclist hitched a ride in the BMW

The no-man’s land between Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan presented the next challenge.

The road was a miserable track, which had been eaten away by water crossings.

At one point a muddy flood blocked the road, so I changed the river’s course a little by diverting its flow upstream with stones.

We also had lots of company for a change: a German van that we found stuck in a river (and which Theodor towed out successfully), a hitchhiker who waited for four hours for a car to pass, and a cyclist with a broken bike, which ended up on our roof.

Everybody was rather desperate and very relieved to see Theodor.

It is an empty place up there, where only a few cars pass per day. Helping out those in need is not optional in this environment, but a necessity.

The classic BMW’s radiator was finally replaced in Kazakhstan

We rolled along, making our way down the dismal track, finally losing altitude and gaining oxygen.

Kyrgyzstan was waiting with its green fields, a sunset, the first rain in weeks, horses and, most importantly, air that filled our lungs and cylinders at ‘only’ 10,500ft above sea level. What a relief for both man and machine!

Kyrgyzstan proves its stereotypes right in a good way: beautiful landscapes, horses, yurts and Central Asia’s best tourist infrastructure by far.

I even flew back to Germany for two weeks to get a Russian visa for my homeward leg, and on my return to Kyrgyzstan it was time to head north and cross eastern Kazakhstan.

Parked in a small oasis in the Kazakh steppe, I replaced Theodor’s radiator, having brought a new one from Germany.

Then we drove along the seemingly endless open roads to the Russian border.

Russia is hardly a top tourist destination right now, but driving across the country was a positive experience

Entering the country was easy this time: Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Russia are one economic zone, so I didn’t have to fill out endless documents to temporarily import the car.

I also couldn’t resist a 1400-mile detour over the Chuysky Trakt and through the Altai Mountains towards Mongolia – in 2014 the Chuysky Trakt was named by National Geographic as one of the top 10 most beautiful roads in the world.

Theodor and I were rewarded with beautiful, diverse landscapes and perfect routes, starting in green valleys and ending up on a steppe at 6000ft on the Mongolian border.

This was a special moment: the easternmost point of the journey. From here we would drive west, towards home.

It was a long journey. Altogether about 4500 miles across that vast country, with the roads stretching away through tracts of taiga and forest in Siberia.

Here and there, travelling through Russia is complicated because mobile networks and GPS signals get blocked close to strategically important locations.

Appreciating the spectacular architecture of the Winter Palace in St Petersburg

Then, some 120 miles from Yekaterinburg, Theodor’s left rear wheel bearing left the team.

Slowly, we crawled to the city, where we were able to source not only the correct bearing, but also a workshop in which to fit it.

Changing a rear wheel bearing is no roadside fix: it is pressed directly into the axle, and the driveshaft passing through it adds complication.

Considering the current situation, it felt strange to visit Russia.

Even more surprising was the contrast between expectation and experience. Despite driving the whole way across, I didn’t have one negative encounter.

I was invited to barbecues, on workshop visits and in for beers. I got a lot of criticism on social media for visiting Russia, from insults to death threats. I only have one response: the trip was not political.

Spreading hate is far less likely to solve problems than bringing people together, and Theodor managed that.

Across 21 countries, this sturdy old car brought smiles to faces. During the entire trip, I had no crossed words with police, border guards or members of the public.

The BMW is not only a faithful companion and loyal friend, but also a great diplomat. Thank you, Theodor.

Words: Emanuel H

Images: e34xpeditions

The adventure continues: follow Theodor on the way to Dakar on Instagram via @e34xpeditions

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