Kyrgyzstan
Pushing Ourselves to the Limit in the MountainsÂ
Triumph and Adversity in a Magical Country
We have already had a taste of Kyrgyzstan, but this is on another level! Ahead of us lie the highest mountain passes and the most remote places of our journey. We are excited, but know that we will reach our limits. We leave the comfort of our AirBnB and venture into the 40-degree heat of Bishkek. The last stage of our adventure in Central Asia begins with the Kegeti Pass at an altitude of 3780 metres.
Contents
- The Kegeti Pass
- Putting Your Socks on with a View
- The First Monster Mountain Pass Complete
- Jana’s Bike Issues
- The Kara-Keche Pass and Coal Mine
- An Army of Sheep with a Teenage General
- Yurt Experience at Song-Kul Lake
- Another Mountain Pass…
- The Weather Plays Havoc
- A First Time for Everything
- A New Cycling Crew
- Our Last Ride in Central Asia
The Kegeti Pass
The day starts positively. We get our card back from the bank over the road, where it was swallowed at the ATM last night. Great news, although I doubt we will be able to use it for at least a week or so. We have two mountain passes and a giant lake to get past before Naryn, the next town.Â
Cycling up the start of the Kegeti Pass, it doesn’t take long before the tarmac road turns to gravel. We know that we won’t see tarmac again for at least another 100 km, on the other side of the mountain. Kyrgyzstan is delivering on its promise. After just a day cycling into the mountains, we are heading up a tranquil valley with narrow green pastures and small rivers flowing beside us. We pass a waterfall on the side of a steep cliff. Several cars have stopped and people picnic. Setting up camp next to a stream, we hear nothing all night except running water and the odd bird chirping.Â
We start day two with a coffee, enjoying the serenity of our surroundings. It is then time to get on the bikes and start the long slog up to 3100 m. As the sun sets, it’s quite satisfying to unpack the sleeping bags. The temperature may drop low enough overnight for us to actually have to use them. It’s also the first time that we will sleep at an altitude of over 3000 m.
Putting Your Socks on with a View
We can’t say we are amateurs anymore: I really should have known better than starting through the Kyrgyz mountains with holes in the soles of my shoes. The river in front of us presents me with a problem. We have to cross it in order to continue up the pass. I don”t want to get my feet wet though. If they get wet now, they won’t dry until we get over the pass and down the other side to hotter temperatures, probably 3 days from here. With the aim of creating stepping stones across the stream, I throw a large rock into the water in front of me. Splash! Water flies into the air and I get splattered with dirt. Idiot.
I decide to take my shoes off and wade over barefoot. On the other side I lean my bike up and perch on a large rock to dry my feet. Due to my inflexibility I usually sit down in order to put my socks on. As I look up, I realise that this is probably the best view I have ever had while doing it. Only 500 m elevation of Kegeti Pass to go.
The First Monster Mountain Pass Complete
As we approach the top of the pass, a thunderstorm breaks out. Rain lashes down. Like children in their bedrooms, we begin to count every time that we see a flash of lightning to work out the distance of the storm. Unlike children at home, we are out in the elements, genuinely worried as the storm blows in our direction.
The rain turns to hail. I was trying to avoid a stream this morning, but now the whole road has turned into a river. Water gushes down the serpentines we are ascending. My feet are soaked. It’s pointless doing anything about it. I will have to wait until the weather clears up before wringing out my socks. Most of the ascent is ridiculously steep. We constantly stop to catch our breath. The clouds surround us as we get to the top of the pass. We can’t see further than a few metres and the temperature is noticeably colder. We have done it though, 3780 m!
After a few hundred metres of the descent, we come out of the clouds and have visibility again. The views across the dramatic cliffs and screes that lie below us are amazing. What we then realise however, is that they are our route down! The old path has been destroyed by an avalanche.Â
Descents are supposed to be enjoyable and a sort of reward for having made it to the top. Well, not on this occasion. This is madness! The only clear path that we can see, lies a kilometre or so in the distance below us.Â
We struggle down the sheer rock fields on foot, trying to meander across and reduce the angle of descent. We make it to the path in one piece and roll down the gravel road for a couple of hours. Our hands ache from constantly braking, so we stop early in the afternoon and build the tent. At 2800 m in altitude we bask in the glory of having completed our first monster mountain pass.
Jana’s Bike Issues
In the morning we continue downhill. Jana complains that her brakes are sounding weird. We stop to inspect. Bugger. The clip holding the brake pads in place is missing and one of the pads has fallen out. This is no doubt due to the intense vibrations from the gravel road yesterday. Scouring the ground for the pad and clip, we walk back in the direction we came from. Less than 100 m away we find the conveniently bright blue coloured brake pad (thank you Decathlon). It is impossible to find the pin, so we come up with an alternative solution. Jana bends a hair clip to fit in the gap and lodge the pads in place.Â
I’ve said it all along. I hate dirt roads. They’re much more difficult to ride and slow the tempo down. Dirt roads do however mean that you get away from civilization and really get out into nature. And wow it is worth it in Kyrgyzstan. Jana’s bike isn’t loving it as much as us though. We stop again as one of Jana’s front panniers is hanging down. Missing two screws, we have to use cable ties to attach the bag to the front forks. Not ideal, but it will definitely hold. As we look up, we marvel at the beauty of the landscape. There are definitely worse places to keep having to fix your bike.
The Kara-Keche Pass and Coal Mine
The Kegeti pass is quickly followed by our next ascent up to the Kara-Keche Pass. We wake up early and get onto the sandy road towards Song-Kul Lake. With only 1300 m in elevation to go, we enter a valley. The road conditions improve and the surroundings begin to look more like a mountain pass. We manoeuvre around a hairpin and to our amazement are confronted with a gigantic coal mine on the opposite mountainside.Â
Getting so close to a coal mine and being able to observe it as we climb up the pass is definitely interesting. At the same time however, it’s quite scary to see what humans are capable of in order to find the resources needed to survive. The Kara-Keche mine contains approximately 430 million tonnes of coal, of which around 1 million tonnes is mined each year. Coal from here supplies a power plant in Bishkek, which in itself provides 15% of total Krygyz power.Â
Close to the top of the pass the gradient reduces and we enter a wide open valley at over 3000 m altitude. We hear the motor of a motorbike behind us. Stopping to exchange small talk, the Dutchman, Timon, jokes that he has been following our tracks in the dirt for the last 20 km.
As the biker powers off up the hill, we are left wearily pedalling away. Life would be so much easier with a motor.Â
Just over the crescent we look out over huge green pastures and rolling hills. Around one of the many s-bend corners we see Timon again. Weirdly though, his bike is lying on its side with him standing next to it. The road beneath us turns to sludge. It must have been raining a lot up here. Unable to continue pedalling, we push the last 50 metres towards him. The mud sticks to our feet and starts climbing our legs as we trudge forwards, similar to our experience in Georgia.Â
Adventure motorbikes struggle on this terrain as well apparently. “It’s too muddy”, the Dutch man says. “I slid sideways and crashed”. Having hurt his back he now can’t pick the bike back up. Jeez, and I thought our bicycles were heavy! It takes the 3 of us to pick his motorbike up and put it back on its stand. Luckily it isn’t damaged. After a moment to gather himself, he rides off again. See you at the lake, mate.Â
Close to the top of the pass the gradient reduces and we enter a wide open valley at over 3000 m altitude. We hear the motor of a motorbike behind us. Stopping to exchange small talk, the Dutchman, Timon, jokes that he has been following our tracks in the dirt for the last 20 km.
As the biker powers off up the hill, we are left wearily pedalling away. Life would be so much easier with a motor.
Just over the crescent we look out over huge green pastures and rolling hills. Around one of the many s-bend corners we see Timon again. Weirdly though, his bike is lying on its side with him standing next to it. The road beneath us turns to sludge. It must have been raining a lot up here. Unable to continue pedalling, we push the last 50 metres towards him. The mud sticks to our feet and starts climbing our legs as we trudge forwards, similar to our experience in Georgia.
Adventure motorbikes struggle on this terrain as well apparently. “It’s too muddy”, the Dutch man says. “I slid sideways and crashed”. Having hurt his back he now can’t pick the bike back up. Jeez, and I thought our bicycles were heavy! It takes the 3 of us to pick his motorbike up and put it back on its stand. Luckily it isn’t damaged. After a moment to gather himself, he rides off again. See you at the lake, mate.
Realising we aren’t going to make it to Song-Kul Lake tonight, we find a campspot on the hillside about 20 km away. It’s crazy to think that there is a huge lake at 3000 m above sea level. Horses run around our tent as we snuggle up in our sleeping bags. It’s great that animals have so much space here with no fences to inhibit their movement. Overnight it’s only just above freezing and due to the altitude we wake up several times short of breath, gasping for air. The feeling is becoming normal now, it just breaks up sleep a little.
An Army of Sheep with a Teenage General
I get out of the tent to make coffee as normal. To my left I notice a sheep on the crest of the hill, about 100 m away. I bend down and fiddle with the cooker for a moment. When I look back up, the whole crest of the hill is lined with sheep. It’s like in war and cowboy films when soldiers surround another army. In typical fashion, the army general then appears. Riding up to his troops on a horse, his silhouette rises above the mass sheep army and towers down on me in the valley below.
Thankfully the sheep are more interested in doing harm to the grass than to me. They wander around the tent grazing. The army general turns out to be a local teenage shepherd. Rather than commanding his troops to attack, he offers Jana and me some nougat sweets.
Jana exchanges a few words with the boy then helps me with the packing. He continues to sit on his horse in silence, watching our every move for the next 20 minutes or so. Just as we are about to leave, he gets down from his horse. He says something in Russian neither Jana or I understand. Gesturing at his horse, we work out he is offering us a test ride. Jana used to ride when she was little, but other than going on a donkey ride at the beach as a child, I have no riding experience at all.Â
Even the horse looks scared as I try to get up onto the saddle. Several attempts later and with a lot of help from the teenage shepherd, I manage about 1 minute in the saddle before asking to get down. I hadn’t noticed that the boy had let go of the reins completely. In theory the horse could have just ran off, with me flailing on its back! Luckily it just goes round in a circle on the spot!Â
Jana gracefully jumps up into the saddle and again the boy lets go of the reins. More successfully than me, Jana takes the horse a few steps. The way the boy scrunches his face in disappointment however, seems as though he was expecting at least one of us to actually ride the horse properly. With the bikes packed we bid farewell to the nicest army general we have ever met and start cruising down to the lake. It’s yurt hunting time!
Yurt Experience at Song-Kul Lake
There are multiple yurt camps lining the lake. The one we have been recommended is set a stone’s throw from the lakes edge and has 8 yurts. We are guided to a yurt by the family who own the camp. With a white exterior and red painted wood interior, the yurt has two thick carpets and two mattresses with bedding on the ground. Apart from the wood stove next to the entrance, there is nothing else in the room.
In desperate need of a shower, we are shown a shed heated by a wooden stove with a water tank above it. The stove makes the room hot like a sauna and we use buckets to scoop out the hot water and pour it over our heads. It might be rustic, but it’s amazing!
Following afternoon tea and then dinner, we get underneath the thick duvets in the yurt. At 1am we wake up to the sound of cows grazing outside the yurt. We turn over and ignore the noise. The cows come ever closer. They’re impossible to ignore. Crash! We hear one of the bikes leaning up against the yurt, fall to the ground. Half naked, I go out into the cold to check the damage. The sound of the bike hitting the ground must have scared the cows away, as there are none in sight. I carry the bikes inside and hope that we don’t get any further disturbances. With earplugs in to defend against any further potential noise, we sleep through till morning.Â
Now that it’s light we are able to see what happened. A cow must have taken a liking to the plastic cover on the front of my bike and licked or bitten it off, causing the bike to fall over. The plastic has a British flag sticker on it. I guess it must have been the cows’ way of showing displeasure to the treatment of its cousins by British beef farmers.Â
Mentally and physically drained from getting up and then back down from Song-Kul Lake, we take a break in the town of Naryn. A few beers with some other tourists helps our bodies recover. Mentally however, I can’t imagine going up another mountain trail again.
Another Mountain Pass…
It takes only two days till Jana persuades me to get back on the bike and start another monster mountain climb. This time the biggest one yet! The Tosor pass is at a whopping 3893 m.Â
We plan for 5 days without civilisation. That means packing enough water to get us above the last village. After that, we can drink from rivers without worrying. We also pack enough food for the whole journey. There is massive motivation to get up and over this pass. We have friends from France meeting us on the other side. Hopefully when we get a phone signal again, we will also get the good news of me becoming an uncle.
One of Jana’s wishes for this pass is river crossings. Don’t ask me why, but she thinks that it belongs on a bike touring adventure in Kyrgyzstan. I see them for what they are. Annoying and wet.Â
Jana gets her wish. A river rushes across in front of us several meters below. The bridge should continue at the height we are at for another 20 meters, but it’s crumbled and fallen into the river. The only way across is to make our way down to the bank and wade through.Â
In fact Jana gets her wish multiple times. Nature is taking its toll on the Tosor Pass and we end up in a cycle of: river, wet feet, towel, dry feet, river, wet feet…
Each crossing is slightly different and actually becomes quite amusing. This next crossing is a little daunting. There is no clear route to cross. I step onto the first larger stone, treating it like a stepping stone, but the water comes up above my knees. There is no way I am crossing this with my fully packed bike on my own. Jana comes over to help. Half carrying, half pushing, we manage to get my bike over. Without the bags it’s still a struggle for the two of us.Â
After getting Jana’s bike over, with numb feet from the cold water, we do shuttles to get the bags. Whilst on our last bag run, a flock of sheep approach on the road. Unlike us, they just spring through and don’t seem to be bothered by the ice cold water that comes up to their tummies.Â
We look back at the river. Sheep are still piling over the crossing from all different angles without care, until we spot a little lamb fall over. To which Jana comes out with one of the best quotes till now; “Ahhh the poor little cute one fell in”. The little lamb doesn’t seem bothered though, he gets up, shakes himself off and crosses. On the other side of the bank he then continues to eat grass as if nothing has happened. I reach for a towel to dry my wet and numb feet. Before moaning I think of the little lamb. “Come on Joel, be a brave little lamb”, I think to myself.Â
The Weather Plays Havoc
It is the middle of August, but even that doesn’t guarantee good weather when you’re at 3000 m altitude. With the sun having set, the skies then open. We are therefore forced to set up the tent in the rain. We make a plan of how to build the tent without getting the inside wet. In our set corners, we begin to assemble the poles to the outer layer which is already laid out on the grass. Jana repeatedly asks if I am sure I have the correct side attached to the pole. I was a boy scout, I could put this tent up with my eyes closed and hands tied behind my back. Of course I have everything right.Â
As we push the poles together and slot them into their eyelets it becomes clear. I messed up. Jana was right. “No point arguing about it”, I exclaim. The inside of the tent is wet. Nightmare.Â
Excited to go higher than we have all trip, we are up early and pedalling towards the top, 3890 m above sea level. We push ourselves to our limits as we gradually get higher. As we approach the top, there is even a dusting of snow on the ground. We enter the clouds and it’s only a couple of degrees above freezing at the top. It’s crazy when you think we had 40 degrees in Bishkek just a few days ago.Â
On our way down we come out of the clouds and into the sunlight. Unfortunately, the blue skies are only short lived. Before long, dark grey clouds come across from the mountain peaks. First rain, then hail beats down. So much falls in such a short space of time that the road turns into a river. The bank at the side of the road collapses, like a mini landslide. The water on the road becomes so deep that we are no longer able to see the ground beneath us. It’s dangerous as we ride over the loose stones. We don’t know where the edge of the road is and if we will hit anything beneath us.
Arriving at our guesthouse, we are happy to just eat a pot noodle and have a couple of days off. Guesthouse Pavel is brilliant, with lovely, well maintained gardens. We enjoy an evening with our friends Alex and Jerome, drinking peach and cassis wine, catching up with their lives back home and exchanging experiences of each other’s Kyrgyzstan adventures.Â
The big news arrives from Sweden as well. My niece, Alba, is born! I am elated for my brother and his wife and know that the excitement I am feeling is replicated by my family back in the UK. Moments like this are great, but it’s hard to be on the road, thousands of kilometres away.
A First Time for Everything
All relaxing and enjoyable times must come to an end: We get back on our bikes and head east out of Tamga along the south side of Lake Issyk-Kul. Jana has planned the back roads out of the town. Barely rolling forward, we try to dodge the large puddles dotted along the dried mud road. Jana loses her balance and tries to put a foot out to support herself. Her foot slips and she falls off her bike sideways, landing in a muddy puddle. Jana’s first fall of the trip. Luckily she is OK. The water bottle holder on her bike is the only thing damaged, apart from her pride.Â
Muddier than we started the day, we stop in the evening at the lakes edge. The views of the lake with snow capped mountains surrounding us are more than enough to justify a hard day’s cycling.
Weather conditions aren’t helping us at the minute. Although it’s warm, the wind is incredibly strong. Heading uphill, a regular occurrence in Kyrgyzstan, we get so tired that we have to get off and push. Looking round at Jana as a fourth truck drives passes us, I can tell we are both thinking the same thing. We are shattered and just want this hill to be over. We agree to flag down the next truck and ask for a lift. Luckily the driver agrees to take us and our bikes with him. A first for us. We have only ever hitchhiked when the road was unpassable on bicycle, e.g. through tunnels where bicycles were not allowed.Â
After it has been raining almost the whole night through, we wake up to rain as well. Unbelievably, this is the first time in 15 months on the road and 300+ nights in the tent that it’s raining when we want to get out of the tent in the morning. Crazy really.
A New Cycling Crew
Leaving Issyk-Kul Lake to the north east, we cross the border to Kazakhstan. Only 90 km west of China but unable to obtain a visa, we are heading for Almaty. From there we will catch a flight to South Korea.Â
The road changes at the border from being a potholed concrete mess on the Kyrgyz side to an immaculate dark grey tarmac on the Kazakh side. We sit on our stools next to the cyclists dream of a road and have lunch. Muriel, a bike tourer from Italy joins us for a coffee. Shortly after, Kat and Simon from Canada and the UK respectively, stop for a moment’s break as well. Now a bike crew of 5, we ride all afternoon and camp together at night. Kazakhstan seems to be the country where we come together with other riders. It reminds us of our adventures with Moritz, Jonas and Jeremy a couple of months ago, and a long way west of here.Â
Back on the road again in the morning, the landscape is becoming flatter and the roads straighter. The Kazakhs must have learnt their road building from the Romans. It is incredible how straight they often are, over such vast distances. At the Charyn Canyon National Park we stop for a break at a parking lot that’s been turned into a movie set for an Egyptian TV show. Not allowing us onto set, or indeed anywhere near anything that’s going on, we are encouraged to leave. Almost like a bribe we are handed bottles of water from the crew.
Our Last Ride in Central Asia
We leave the others and continue on the road to Almaty. With a tailwind we get to the city within 2 days. A nice way to end our trip through Central Asia.Â
Almaty, with a population of around 2 million, is the biggest place we have been to for a while. Kat and Simon catch up with us. We go to the Paulaner brewery with them, ending the night with a curry. Very European of us. There are other cyclists in town as well, making a group of 8 of us one evening in another bar. Ordering several beer towers to share feels almost even more European. Oh well, we have definitely earned it after all the days in the desert or in the mountains of Central Asia.Â
Jana’s week continues in the same fashion. I however manage to squeeze in a trip to Sweden. Via Bishkek and Istanbul I arrive in Uppsala to meet my lovely little niece. That other members of my Family are there at the same time is a huge bonus and it’s awesome to be able to share such memories with them.
Back in Almaty and at the airport ready for our flight, we meet two other bikepackers. Poggy, one of the lads from the beer tower evening, and his friend are heading for Seoul too. Cycling the world makes you realise that it really isn’t that small. It’s massive and takes ages to cycle around. But on the other hand, it is small. We always seem to bump into other bike tourers at airports. Maybe that says something about bicycle touring. We should all just stop cycling and fly everywhere. Not a chance! The lakes and mountains of Kyrgyzstan are a dream and the perfect examples of why overland travel is so special!
