26 Dec 2014
17. Kyrgyzstan
The national flag of Kyrgyzstan, now look away and try to spell it - it’s pronounced as Kirgizstan.
Situated on the right-hand side of central Asia, nuzzled in between its neighbouring countries like a complicated piece of jig-saw puzzle that’s somehow been forcefully clicked into place. With a population of ~ 5.7 million people, 93% of the country is mountainous which proves a great place for awesome scenery. Still travelling with David + Holly we were pleasantly surprised to find that border entry was actually free, saving the U.S. $30 for a few beers in celebration of entering yet another country. Just across from the border is the country’s capital Bishkek, where we’d be applying for the Chinese visa.
50km in from the border and we’re in the centre of Bishkek, here we meet a couple of slightly tipsy backpackers and soon find ourselves joining them at the bar, a few beers later and after recommendation we decide we’d stay at the Sakura guesthouse / hostel, a ten minute walk away.
The following day we head to the visa agency to start the process, as normal this would take five working days so gave me time to plan my next move. Having used a train across Kazakhstan with intentions of joining David + Holly on Tajikistan’s epic Pamir Highway - one of the world’s most famous routes for a bicycle tourist - I now started to give it second thoughts. Bishkek’s altitude is just 1500 metres and with it now mid September the first morning there was rather cold, let alone on the Pamir Highway itself which sits at an average altitude of 4000 metres (~12,000 feet), and with its highest pass at 4600 metres it would certainly drop into the minus temperature range at night, not equipped with a cold-weather tent, sleeping bag or clothing I decide it wiser to back out.
Having had company for the previous six weeks I felt that my tour had become slightly diluted and lost direction, much of that time had not even been cycling; waiting in Azerbaijan’s Baku for visa’s, the 2 day Caspian Sea ferry ride, the Kazakhstan train ride and the present wait in Bishkek - over a period of 26 day’s I’d cycled just 137km, I’d well and truly lost momentum, my feet were growing roots and my bike’s chain was rusting! Travelling with others was good but being an independent person I’d been following others without too much concern and hence ‘lost’ where I was going - I’d never had a map for Georgia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan or Kyrgyzstan but simply using other’s to guide the way via their smart-phone maps. All this added further uncertainty as to my next move and I started questioning what I was doing.
After emailing Danny + Lilli whom I’d met back in Turkey I found out they were also now in Bishkek and they decided to change hostels, joining us where we were at the Sakura . Our initial meet in Turkey’s Cappadocia was for just a few minutes so it was good to catch up with them properly this time and swap tales of one another’s adventures so far. Bishkek proved quite a good city, relatively clean and tidy and quite well organised, a fair amount of bars, café’s, restaurants and park’s to wander around.
Still with several days wait until the Chinese visa we had time to explore the city, on my shopping list were some thick gloves and also a thicker sleeping bag, with several outdoors clothing shops we cycled around to see what was on offer, soon buying a pair of ski-gloves at a bargain sale price of ~ €5, the sleeping bag would wait. The following day we firstly visited the large central market, anything from food to clothes could be bought along with a lot of bread sellers. In the afternoon we decided to treat ourselves to a massage, something I’d never had before but would most certainly have again!
From Bishkek Danny + Lilli were heading toward Lake Issyk-Kul to ride around its southern edge then up into the mountains by an ‘in-the-know’ pass and suggested I join them. Still needing to buy a warmer sleeping bag I was fortunate enough that an American backpacker who was now heading home was throwing his zip-damaged one away, I could simply use is as an as an ‘outer’ sleeping bag, with my original one zipped up inside it.
After obtaining our Chinese visa’s - which for me took an extra day due to an overlooked date error that the agent had not spotted - Dave + Holly departed by taxi for their long drive to the Tajikistan border whilst Danny, Lilli and I headed out of Bishkek the following morning which proved the smoggiest road I’d ever ridden on and not before long we stopped at a pharmacy to buy a small face mask!
Dave + Holly, with help from Ozy Will lashing their bike’s wheels to the rack-bars on the Mercedes taxi, luckily Holly - coming from the world of sailing - knew what knot to use and what knot not to use!
The ride out from Bishkek was flat and we all rode at the same pace, nearing the end of the day looking for a place to camp we asked a villager if we could use their garden, to our surprise they said we could sleep in their large garden shed, as the day’s weather had been overcast this would prove warmer than using our tents, although I’m sure my ‘new’ sleeping bag would have kept the cold at bay. The family even invited us inside for some tasty food and - being a former Soviet state - all gets washed down with some local beverage..vodka! I felt sorry for the horse in their stable, the daughter was soon to be married and is traditional for the bride’s family to supply a horse for the big day, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be used for riding!
The following morning the route started climbing up into the mountains and here a noticeable change of pace between us became clear, I’d be up front, waiting at the top of each small climb for Danny + Lilli.
At the end of the day Danny and I went to check a possible riverside camp-spot we’d seen from the road, upon returning to Lilli there was another cycle tourist talking to her. Tom was French and cycling from Mongolia, now heading to Bishkek for his flight back home, also looking for a place to camp he decides to joins us.
A curious villager wearing his traditional Kyrgyzstan hat comes to check us out.
With ample time before his flight back home Tom decided in going back against the very direction he’d been riding and join us, now we were four! He was interested in riding the mountain route for his finale’ that Danny + Lilli had informed me about. Tom and I had a matched cycling pace which was good, if anything - due to only having rear panniers - he was a tad quicker than myself on the steeper climbs. Here we are before our group split.
Some of the mountainside advertising seen as we made our way toward the lake.
Camping at Lake Issyk Kul.
Due to our different cycling paces Lilli suggested that riding separate would be best, they would feel no pressure to catch up and we could shoot up the climbs and continue without having to wait at the top, this was preferable to me as, like with Dave and Holly, I’d felt like a bit of a gooseberry whereas with Tom, being a solo cyclist was better matched. The start of the mountain route we’d be taking was 30km or so from where we’d camped and not far from there we meet a cyclist heading toward us, Dan was from Oxford - 45 minutes from my town - and was on a 1 ½ year tour around the [rather small!] world. Eventually the start of the mountain route arrives under our wheels, understanding that Danny + Lilly were not favourable for unpaved roads it was a surprise to find what we had, being the start we assume it would get better….
After several hours of continual bumpy trail we arrive at an unsigned junction, unsure of which way to go we decide to stop for the evening, initially thinking to make use of an old derelict farm building but then thinking it best to walk to the neighbouring farm to get permission. Here the farmer lets us sleep in an old building next to his house. This area really did feel like the last frontier, desolate mountainous scrubland with rocky stream running through, no traffic and few people.
The following morning the farmer invites us in for breakfast, a kind gesture so we offer a small amount of money. Back on the bike’s the route changes but not for the better, even bumpier with occasionally sections of fine dusty sandy-soil, Tom was okay as he’d got front suspension but my poor old bike wasn’t liking it, much of it I walked as due to the steep inclination was almost as quick and I wasn’t in favour of wrecking my bike. Coincidently a few days prior whilst with Danny + Lilli we’d met two fully-loaded German tourers who’d cycled the trail but in the opposite direction to us, from which the pass’s climb is not so steep, therefore easier, and gives a fast descent, the way we were heading up!
In the morning a car - navigating carefully over the big rocks - slowly passes by us, a while later - after they stop for a break we catch them up. Asking them about conditions ahead it’s to get no better so ask, after some negotiating if they’d give us a lift. A Lada 4x4 is by no means a spacious vehicle so fitting two touring bikes, seven panniers and two more men inside (with the rear seats down!) is not an easy task, in fact with half the bikes hanging out the back of the car and fear of my bike getting scratched (or even worse) via the bumpy ride I just wasn’t happy about the lift and decide that two wheels (or is that two feet?) is actually best.
For much of the day the trail [and my walking] continued, Tom intended to make the pass before camp but I was having doubts, still with 500 metres to ascend I really needed to stop but was persuaded to continue, after a further ½ km my body said no more! I was worn out and declared that was it for the day, but to my surprise Tom said he’d continue, alone! We were at 3000 metres and had seen just one vehicle all day and he intended to press on, leaving me alone, I was in total disbelief, all the same off he went whilst I started to set camp. Fifteen minutes later fumbling around in my tent Tom’s was back, deciding it was not really the done thing he’d returned and would join me, a wise move as moments after erecting his tent and starting to cook the view somewhat changes.
Within seconds a snow storm had blown in, a strong gusty wind buffeting the tent and every so often ‘whoosh’ as a build up of hail / snow slides down the tent, this continues on and off through the night whilst I lay awake, worrying about how deep the snow would get, few people new where we were, and only the ‘Lada lads’ had seen us on the trail, would it be too deep to even take the bike back down? There’s a fine line between adventure and danger and I felt I’d crossed it, sure I’d been in brief snow storms when snow boarding but this was a whole new experience and I was out my comfort zone, in the morning the only direction I’d be heading would be back down, I really was worrying.
A sigh of relief in the morning, the snow had not settled so easy on the warm mountain and the trail was still clearly visible…for my downhill retreat! As we were still in thick misty cloud with low visibility Tom also decided it best to head back as it would inevitably be worse further up.
Packing up and descending, just 200 metres we’re soon out of the cloud, sticking our fingers up at the mountain and calling it all the names under the sun - not that we had any yet! Beaten by my inappropriate bicycle plus its excess weight, and a flurry of snow, Tom could see and think clearly now, not happy being beaten and still spitting grammatical venom it was clear he didn’t accept ‘defeat’ in his vocabulary, slamming his brake’s on he declares “I’m going back up!!” I was happy and felt safe now, wishing him a safe ride we bid farewell, I start my shaky, bumpy, freewheeling, brakes-on descent, whilst Tom rides the other way, disappearing into the cloud, against the pull of gravity!!
An hour or so later I pass within view of the farmhouse we’d stayed the night before, the past 24 hours felt such a waste of time and effort, but at least I’d got some great photos and (hopefully?) a good story to tell. A further ½ an hour later and I’m almost back on the lakes periphery [sealed] road when I notice two bicycle tourers taking a coffee break by the stream, it was Danny + Lilli! It turns out they’d rode just 15 kilometres down the trail and realised it wouldn’t get any better so likewise retreated.
I learnt wisely from this episode, don’t follow others but make your own path, and now I was, I was riding solo for the first time since entering Georgia, if felt brilliant! I could put my earphones on, crank up the volume, start and stop wherever I chose, my tour was now reawakening after its many weeks of unconsciousness.
The next day I briefly stop at one of the lakeside pic-nic areas we’d camped at on the way up, Tom had left his stainless mug there so I thought I’d do the decent thing and recover it. Surely enough it was where he’d left if, next to the flattened patch of grass where his tent had been, all I had to do now was find a way of getting it back to him, “The Adventures of Tom’s Mug” - more on that in my forthcoming China Pt.1 post. Returning back along the lakeside route was not so bad, it’s quite scenic and with a fair amount of towns and villages and several - what appeared to be - derelict former Soviet holiday towns with abandoned hotels and to the south a view of the snow-capped mountains I’d retreated from.
“I know you’d like to join me boys, but I’m riding solo for a while”
With Kyrgyzstan being so mountainous the roads between towns and cities are far from direct or straight and ‘snake’ all over the place and can prove easy to go wrong. After the mountain pass I’d have been heading to Nayran so instead was now heading for Kochkor where from I could hopefully plot how best get to the city of Osh for the remaining section to the Chinese border. Pondering over the effectively wasted time at attempting the mountain trail I now felt behind schedule, If I’d headed for Osh direct from Bishkek I’d have been there by now, so upon reaching Kochkor I decided to cheat a little and take a taxi. Osh was several hundred kilometres away so a taxi wouldn’t be so cheap, upon finding one big enough to take my bike and some haggling (£140) - paying about 1/3rd upfront for the driver to buy fuel - we head off. After 10km or so the road condition deteriorated, resembling something like that of the mountain trail I’d been defeated by, regardless of the stones and rocks the driver seemed hell-bent on driving at full throttle. The car itself had seen better days; a cracked windscreen, pieces of wire for the ignition key, the speedometer or none of the clocks worked, the seats falling apart, a stick to hold the tail-gate open so the last thing it needed was the treatment he was giving it, maybe we’d agreed on an excessive price and he was eager to get the rest of the cash, nevertheless not before long we hear noises from the rear of the car - a flat tyre! Pulling over we remove the bike and bags to access the spare tyre of which turns out to be half flat, with no foot pump it didn’t look so good, then he spots my bike’s frame-mounted pump and his eyes light up, wanting to use it I immediately bark “no way” with a firm shake of the head, I need my pump to be operational when I need it, not some greedy taxi driver, this was his problem to solve, not mine - I’m the paying customer. After he flags down a few vehicles he manages to borrow a foot pump and we continue. We stop at the next main town of Chaek to see if he can buy a replacement tyre as continuing without one on these roads - at his pace! - would be crazy, unable to find a garage that sells his tyre he says he’ll return to Kochkor! Deciding it best to stay there I remove my bike and panniers, the greedy taxi driver wanted even more money from me, whilst I wanted a partial refund of what I’d paid so far! Stalemate I click on my panniers, take a quick photo the driver - who by now was looking as deflated as his tyres and cycle away.
The town was a reasonable size so concerned about continuing without checking my route I book in at a cheap guesthouse, at least I could take my weekly shower and then spend some time at an internet café seeing where I was and the best way to continue to Osh, with no tarmac on the roads, sign post’s were most certainly non existent! The route toward the main M41 that led to Osh was not so difficult so the next day I continue under pedal power, still surrounded by huge mountains with low greenery the views were excellent.
Sections of the road were being prepared for a sealed surface and not before long I pass a Chinese road-workers compound - something which they do seem to make rather well. Soon I’m at the junction where I turn right, confirming with some locals before going any further. This route had a corrugated gravel ‘washboard’ surface and without causing vibration damage to the bike the only way to ride it is slowly, I’d gone about 10km and still no signs of it changing, the route followed a small river that was lined with trees with their leaves in the autumnal green-yellow phase, highlighting the approaching cold season.
Hearing the fist car to pass by approaching I flag it down to ask how long this road is and if gets any better, speaking good English the driver informs me it stays like this all the way to the main road, ~ 70km away! “Do you want a lift?”, this was followed with an immediate “Yes please". With the double rear seat down the bike and panniers fitted in perfectly, whilst I sat on the single rear seat. The guys were heading to Bishkek and suggested it best I head back there where they could - one way or another - soon arrange a lift to Osh. The car was a new Sabaru 4x4 and they drove it like a rally car, whizzing along as if the corrugated bumpy road was tarmac, unlike the taxi I’d taken this vehicle certainly felt at home on this terrain, they were hacking it around the curves and the car just stood the ground. The guys were really friendly and wanted to help as best they could, stopping along the way to show me some points of interest about an old legend from the area whom had hands the size of a giant and was so strong could carry a cow on his shoulders!
Finally arriving at the main M41 road where we start climbing up into the mountains, steep and twisty and soon with snow around a mountain-top tunnel comes into sight with several articulated trucks around - facing both directions. The drivers stops and asks the first [Osh facing] truck if he has room for a bicycle in his trailer, the trailer was empty and was more than happy to take me, albeit not actually going to Osh would get me closer, quicker..and be warmer. With my bike in the huge trailer and me in the cab off we go! I’d never ridden in an articulated truck before and was surprised how comfy it was, enjoying a cup of fresh tea made by the drivers buddy I was contently smiling, it’s strange how things always seem to work out sunny-side up!
The snow-capped hairpin mountain pass section road led down to huge wide plateau area with yurts and static caravans dotted along it, now I was kicking myself for not cycling it, although from the warmth of the cab I guess it looked better!
Later the plateau led into a narrow valley with the road descending for what appeared to be hours, trees and shrubs reappearing, honey sellers and occasional café’s along the way, now I really was kicking myself, a descent this long, on a road this good with little traffic!! Ahh, It’s true, you can’t eat your cake and have it!
Later the road led back up into more mountains, more epic scenery and more kicking myself, I could have asked the driver to stop and soon be cycling again but so wasn’t so bad but would love to include this section as part of a possible future Pamir Highway tour. Just after dark we arrive at the town where the truck would depart the M41, thanking the guys for their help I cycle off in search of somewhere to sleep, too busy and dark to find a camp spot I soon finding a groggy little hotel for just €2. At the hotel I was informed by a Spanish girl whom had worked in Osh for one year that it was such a beautiful city. The two day ride to get there proved rather dull - but I suppose after what I’d seen it would take some beating, likewise with Osh, I was unaware what part of Spain the girl was from but how she could have declared it as a “beautiful city ” beats me!
Previously aware the Manchester boys had intended to head through Osh I emailed them to see if they’d been through, or what date they may be there, as luck would have it they arrived the following day! Meeting up with them was great, we certainly had much to talk about, straight away we decided on riding to the Chinese border together and departed the day after.
The final town before the Chinese border was Sary Tash, about a three day ride, the route would go back into the mountains and so reveal more of the country’s natural beauty. The first night we camped next to a park area, the second night after asking to camp at a farm the farmer actually gave us floor space within his house and the third night me and Russ slept in a family’s home whilst Mark and Jacob camped a bit further down. The following morning we started the climb up to and over the Taldyk Pass, at an altitude of 3615 metres it would be my highest to date.
Climbing up on the last few kilometres of hairpins.
Slowly but surely climbing toward the top.
At the top!
The town of Sary Tash comes within view, check those awesome mountains in the background!
Sary Tash (I called it Scary Trash!) was an interesting ram-shackle of sheds, shacks and huts, not much in the way of shops for food but luckily had a reasonable roadside café of which the proprietors allowed us to pitch our tents on their home’s front garden just around the corner. Here we learnt that due to a national holiday of theirs the Chinese border had been closed for nine days but would re-open in two days.
Moving on the next day we ride through a big wide plateau, edged in by mountain peaks all around, the sky was a crisp blue with a few cotton-like clouds dotted around. Making use of my little-used camera stand we get this great photo.
A few hours later distant mountain-top dark clouds slowly move toward us, stopping at an unlocked building just off the road uncertain of our next move, carry on or camp there? Continuing - as do the approaching clouds, soon the crisp blue sky is now an angry dark grey, with rain being inevitable.
Spotting a building down the road we head for it, having been slowly climbing in altitude if it did rain it would no doubt fall as snow, and not before long it did. The building we’d spotted ahead was a lot further than it looked but we were lucky it was there, making it there just in time before the snow fell heavier. Knocking on the door we asked if we could camp in the huge shed / garage at the side, it would be really cold but better than in the open! The man invites us in, soon his wife makes some tea, at the rear of the house was a bulldozer and turns out to be road-workers accommodation, their duty to keep the mountain road clear of snow. After our tea he shows us a room that has four bunk-beds in - no cold tents for us that night!
Cycling off the next day was quite tricky, the snow was not so deep but the road - via passing trucks in the night - was now a bumpy rocky-like sheet of ice. We were told the pass was five kilometres away, and proved an extremely cautious slow ride, each of us trying to seek out the best route across the bumpy ice without falling - spiked tyres would have been great! Finally reaching the pass one of the few passing trucks had pulled over, he was now fitting his wheel-chains to ensure a safe descent.
The descent proved worse than the climb and applying my brakes just resulted in skidding, luckily staying upright so in the end I walk - a much safer choice, no longer needing to continually brace myself for a fall. Now on the east side of the mountain after just a few kilometres the ice was slowly retreating, under the morning sun patches of ice-free tarmac starts to re-appear. Waiting to regroup we have a good laugh at what we’d come across, and still with a great looking descent we prepare for some high speed freewheeling.
After another 20km and we’re at the border, due to the Chinese nine-day border closure an extensive queue of trucks had built up - some of them waiting for a week or so to get back in their own country! The passing trade had led to an unofficial town springing up here and resembled a stripped-down version of Sary Tash. The border would reopen the next day so we book in at a groggy little €1.5 room.
Up bright and early, excited - like children on the first day of a new school we’re soon standing at the gates waiting for them to open, the new school we’d be attending was to be China!
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Amazing!
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