I left the yurta with the sun on my back and again a tail wind. I ride through picturesque villages on a road that has a gentle yet constant upwards trend. At lunch I stop for a bite and I am offered a lift in a van to the top of today's pass and to Sary Tash, my destination. I stubbornly but graciously refuse. I want to do this by myself!
By late afternoon the weather has changed. The sun has gone and I now have rain. I make the last village before the big climb about an hour or more before sunset. Someone asks me if I want a hotel but I refuse. From Sary Tash it is just a day ride to the Chinese border, and I am motivated to continue. And Sary Tash is a little under 30kms from here. I feel that at worst I should be there in 3 or 4 hours.
The steep bit is steep. Exhaustingly so. I grind on for what seems like for ever trying to reach the summit. Lorries labour past me and motorbikes wind their way down. The weather is not improving, but climbing even in the rain is hot work. As darkness approaches I still have not made the top. I start to get a little worried and curse my earlier stubbornness. The weather is getting worse. As I climb the rain starts to turn to snow. And the road gets worse. Ice and slush are forming on the road and parts of the road are no longer tarmac. Bumpy dirt sections appear where torrential rain and landslides have washed the surface away. In some parts riding becomes tricky. I am out of breath and at high altitude. I get off and push.
Higher I climb and the wind begins to really blow. My feet are now wet and the snow is stinging my face so I have to look down. Occasional vehicles still pass but I am determined to press on. The road finally levels and through the gloom I can see the pass. I feel a certain sense of relief and feeling bloody cold take the selfie. It must get easier going downhill.
Now the drop begins. Over the mountain the wind is really blowing. It is now dark There is a blizzard and I am in the clouds. Ice, grit and slush are all over the road. I can barely see in front of my front wheel. I know that Sary Tash is not far, may be 10km, from where I am so I ride. But all that sweat from climbing is now freezing as the wind goes through me. With visibility down to almost nothing I slew over the road. No friction and I can't see. And now I am getting very cold. I can not feel my feet or fingers. I can not feel what I am doing. I am shivering so violently that balance is impaired. As I make the zigzags of the hairpin corners on the mountain roads I struggle for direction and balance. The wind blows violently one way and then violently the next. The storm is unabating. I am in trouble. I have made all of 2 km since the summit in what seems like an age. 5 miles to go has never seemed so far. To continue would take a long time, hours perhaps. And I am cold now. I feel it is time for plan B. To stop would be crazy. So I press on and listen for vehicles heading for Sary Tash.
Lights appear behind me. I put my thumb out. Lights go past me. I shiver and swear. I carry on. A few minutes later I am bathed in light again. I stop, face the vehicle and put my thumb out. Again it passes. Bugger. More lights, I signal. The car stops! Relief, but the car is a standard Toyota saloon. Not a van that passed me earlier. I feel that the bike won't fit. Two men get out from the front and there is a woman in the back holding a baby. A small pick up passes and I signal for it to stop. It doesn't. The men as well as I show displeasure. The boot is opened and the bike picked up. With a bit of not so gentle shoving most of it is in. The boot lid is tied down and thankful I climb in a pathetic, frozen, shivering heap. But bloody relieved.
Violently I shiver in the back and wish that the heat of the car would never end. I communicate that I am a tourist and on my way to China. Even in the stability of the car the journey takes half an hour or so. We drop, have a little climb, drop again and finally make Sary Tash. I do not want to leave the warm car but thank my saviours profusely, grab my things and step into the cabin that is the roadside shop on the edge of Sary Tash. Confused I think this may be a guest house as well. It isn't. I fear a long trudge around town to find warmth, but there is no need. There is a guest house right behind the shop.
The guest house owner invites me in. I would have paid $1000 to stay. It was warm. I was still bloody cold. I can stay for 700Som. I step back out and wheel my bike into a shed and walk back in and into the living area. The owners family are preparing Shorpa. It is just as horrible as all other bowls of shorpa I have had, but there is a bowl of sweets so I tuck into those. I keep all my thick fleeces on as I am still cold. I sit in the corner watching the fire and watching everyone and the TV whilst thinking back over the last few hours. I have never been that cold and do not wish to be again! There is a Chinese business man who is also staying. He speaks fluent Kyrgyz, but with a Chinese accent. It sounds odd to my ear! After food the house is prepared for sleep. Mats and blankets are placed on the floor. I stay fully dressed and layered and climb under my blankets, warm at last.
There is a reason for this manic expression. I do not think I have ever been this cold, and unbeknown to me things are about to get worse!
