Day 122. Stuck in Sary Tash.

There was more snow over night and Sary Tash looks beautiful. The village is high, at over 3000m and sits in the Alay Valley with the Pamir Mountains and Tajikistan to the south. The Pamirs are pure white and look beautiful, but Sary Tash is bitingly cold. My plan to press on to Irkestam and the Chinese border go on hold. There is another pass and the guest house owner advises against riding today due to the snow. I don't mind. His house is warm. I sit in a bedroom playing games on my laptop to pass the time. I found some post sell by date chocolate in a shop and munch contentedly. I hear some people arrive and then a familiar face pops out from behind the door! Nick, a friend I met in Bishkek has arrived with a group of other travelers. They plan, like me, to cross into China and Kashgar. Except they plan to travel by car. With smiles we get reacquainted.

There is not much to do. The new arrivals plan to go for a walk. I have already walked around Sary Tash and have no desire to step back into the cold. In the afternoon the lights go out due to a power cut. They do not come back on until the following day so we sit and talk by candle light about our travels and where we plan to go after Kashgar.


Sary Tash

 Looking back from where I came

 The Pamir Mountains in the distance.

Day 121. Damn near froze on that bloody hill.

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!

Day 120. Gulcho

Sunny day with a slight tailwind. I repeat TAILWIND! These things excite me and please me greatly! It is a gradual uphill ride and I have many companions en route. Kids run alongside shouting "Hello!" and two lads on horse back ride with me for a while. When it starts to get a little steeper I pass a big group of men standing outside a broken down marshrutka. I press on and make the peak. A little under 2400m and I feel ok. I have a bigger pass coming so this gives me confidence. I glide down the other side and make Gulcho before dusk.There is a cafe on the side of the road that has yurta shaped dining cabins. The owner says I can spend the night in one. I get talking as best I can and find out that he has 6 kids and 15 grandchildren! A big family. The cafe is in a very pretty spot, next to the road and river and looking up towards the mountains that I will climb tomorrow.



Horse riding companions.

 Sorry lads, I have no idea how to fix a marshrutka!

My third big Kyrgyz peak!

Down! I do like down!

Home for the night.

Day 119.

Osh sits aside the Sulayman Mountain. The mountain has been and is a site for pre Muslim and Muslim pilgrimage. It is also Kyrgyzstan's only UNESCO World Heritage site. Sulayman was a Muslim Prophet and the mountain is said to hold his grave. The mountain has wonderful views over Osh, and a giant Kyrgyz flag. There is also a rock at the top that women can crawl through as it is said that this ritual will help fertility. There is also an interesting museum in a cave that has images of historic and pre historic life in the region.

As night falls I can hear music coming from the stadium again. I decide to have a look. This time it is the main performance. Things are going well! All participants are dancing on cue. Flags are being waved and carried around the stadium. There is a stage at the front that has singers miming to pop acts. My favourite part of the show is the release of thousands of balloons with small lights inside. It is very beautiful to watch the climb the night sky and slowly drift away at high altitude along the prevailing wind.

Day 118.

Rain, rain rain. Sat in the hostel most of the day before having a few beers and a bite to eat in the evening.

Day 117. Osh

An easy day. The sun is out and after the previous days of cold and wet I enjoy the warmth. I spend the day walking around Osh taking in some of the sites. There is a nice park with a rather surreal looking yurt containing pictures of Kyrgyz children in national dress. It is a little cheesy. The park is nice, with fountains, seats and plenty of ice cram stalls. Ideal for people watching. Clost pitch e to my hostel there is Osh Stadium. I can hear music blaring so I wlak in and take a look. There are hundreds of children on the sport pitch dancing. They are having a dry run of a performance that will take place later. To me it looks a little shambolic. Lots of bored teenagers half obeying instructions but mostly interested in talking one another. I suspect it will be alright on the night as they say. Outside a giant Lenin looks the other way.

Day 116 Osh.

I wake and found some breakfast. I realise that Jalal-Abad is a town best appreciated in the dark after a couple of beers. I find some coffee and make my escape. Today is another wet day, turning very wet by lunch time. Shivering and wet Ii stop in the small town of Ozgon for lunch. The restaurant is Uzbek and I eat rakhman. Waiting for the rain to stop I stare out of the window drinking tea and drying. I think about stopping here as the rain is not stopping. But I press on anyway. An hour or so later I am glad I carried on as the rain stops and the sun finally appears.

Osh is nice. I stay in a nice hostel close to the stadium. Osh sits at the bottom of a valley on the banks of the Ak Buura river. Navigating is easy, if I am going up hill I am going away from the hostel. Osh feels pleasant after Jalal-Abad. There is a bit of atmosphere here and some nice restaurants. I plan to spend a couple of days here resting.

Osh Oblast. My last former Soviet Oblast and a long way from the Polish, Latvian border.

Osh is just down the hill and under the sun!

Day 115. Jalal-Abad

The closer I get to Jalal-Abad the worse the roads get. Jalal-Abad is Kyrgyzstan's third largest city so I thought the roads leading in would be relatively good. Instead they get narrower and more pot holed the closer to the city I get, and as I get closer traffic density increases. On the edge of the city I am presented with the curious sight of numerous limousines ferrying newly weds to the edge of the city to be photographed next to the statue of Kyrgyzstan hero Kurmanbek Batyr.

Jalal-Abad itself is not so nice. I get to the centre at dusk and find a place to stay. A walk around town in the rain proves uninspiring, I eat Shashlik, have a couple of beers and mellow out a bit. A second wander now that the rain has stopped is more enjoyable and I appreciate my surroundings all the more for it.


Newly weds and Kurmanbek Batyr.

Day 114. Brushing along Uzbekistan.

An up and down hilly day through numerous tunnels. There are not many routes in this part of Kyrgyzstan so everything comes along this road. I am sometimes stuck in tunnels behind flocks of goats being herded between pastures. The road runs along a flooded valley. There are 3 large hydro electric dams that I pass en route. I can sometimes see parts of the flooded old road below me as it pops up out of the water.

I emerge the other side of the valley very close to the border with Uzbekistan. Just over the fence Uzbek workers work in large cotton fields. I stop at reasonable hour today. I have shashlik and a glass of beer whilst wondering what Uzbekistan, so close but just out of reach, must be like.


The flooded  Toktugal River valley.

One of the Hydro Electric dams.

 Uzbekistan is just over the fence!

Day 113.

After a slow start I leave in the sunshine. A downhill section takes me to the Toktugal Reservoir. I ride around it and admire the views. While the road runs along its southern shore I pass an accident. A car has hit a mini bus carrying tourists. Everyone seems to be OK thankfully.

As the road leaves the reservoir shore I climb again, unexpectedly high peaking at over 2000m. I reach the top at sunset and descend towards Kara-kol where I will spend the night. The only hotel is on the far side of town and takes me a while to find. Exhausted I think that a beer is needed to help wash the Plov down.



The view from the top.

Day 112. Shorpo.

My hosts are still sleeping when I wake up so their restaurant is closed. There is another next door so I go there. I am not sure what they have. There is no menu. I am told they have Shorpo. I have Shorpo. It is supposed to be soup, but ends up being a large lump of meat with boiling water poured onto it. It is awful but I eat it anyway. A lorry driver stops and orders the same. I buy some biscuits as I think these may be better. They are not.

I have another pass today. The Otmok Pass is at 3326m. The pass may be higher that in Kyzart, but
 the road is much better, and the gradient is less. The weather is not so good however. I have snow showers and hail to ride through. During the brief sunny bits I have fantastic views. But I don't appreciate them so much as I am puff puff panting my way up. At Otmok village I stop for fried eggs, unleavened bread and tea to fuel my ascent.

I keep climbing and make the top. The sky looks rather broody. I take some snaps, make a video and then start to drop. Just as I start it hails, and heavily. As I now have a certain amount of speed due to the descent the hail hurts as it strikes my face. It is also bitterly cold. Climbing kept me warm. Now all that sweat along with wind chill is making me shiver considerably. The chain then comes off and wedges itself between top gear and the hanger. With frozen fingers I prize it out and continue down, wearing everything warm that I posses. As I drop the hail turns to heavy rain and drenches me. Further down I notice a camp site that has a lodge. I pull in cold and expectant. The lodge is beautiful. I have a room with a hot shower and a balcony that overlooks the forest and a stream. I can't believe my luck. I ask what they have for dinner. I am told Shorpo. My luck runs out. I chew persistently, drink tea and buy some chocolate and flop down on my bed and gaze out of the window  at the rain as it goes dark.


Climbing up...

Day 111.

The road is still bad, the scenery still epic. I pass through Kojomukul and stop at Suusmayer for a late lunch of ice cream. There is a home stay here and I think about staying. But when I find it no one is in, so I decide to press on.

My decision was good, I still had a few hours of sunlight left and the road is terrible. It takes me 2 hours to cover 15km. I finally make the main Bishkek Osh road and head south, glad to be on tarmac again.

My pleasure is short lived as I hit a massive head wind. The clouds ahead are very dark. An hour or so before sunset I spot a cafe and duck in for some food. Inside I see a notice that they have rooms in the basement for rent. I book one as I do not feel like continuing or camping. The room is terrible, the sheet has a blood stain on it. I feel like I am in a scene from a cheap horror film. My host nonchalantly turns the sheet over. I feel there is no other option so I still take the room.

My hosts however are very friendly. She is curious about my ride and her daughter likes to take my photograph. I eat Manty (a Kyrgyz stuffed dumpling) and take a bit of a walk outside. The rain did not come but it is bloody windy and cod outside. My room does not seem so bad after all!


My hosts.

 

Day 110. The new road cometh.

The scenery is epic. And after Chaek Chinese work crews and camps line the road building a new massive highway. There are mines close buy. What they mine I do not know. But I guess the Chinese want whatever is in them and are prepared to build a massive new road to ease connectivity. A year or two from now this ride will be much easier! However for now I still bounce along a gravel road.

After two punctures and a certain amount of swearing I reach Kyzyl Oy. A pretty little village next to a river, and a bit warmer than the previous evening as I have dropped a few hundred meters. The village has a few homestays and I bump into some French tourists who have hired a 4wd to take themselves the way that I have just come. I figure that perhaps they are smarter than me!


Bumpy but beautiful.

Day 109. Kyzart Pass.

I leave in the rain and head towards my first big pass of Kyrgyzstan. The Kyzart Pass is at 2664m and has a bloody awful road leading to the top. The road splits after Kockor with the smooth road heading south to China. West, and up the hill, the road deteriorates into a mud and gravel road. The gradient is steep, but the surface makes the ride even harder. I get to the top in the mid afternoon and rest for a while. But I do not want to rest for too long as it is getting cold and the next village where I plan to stop is still a further 40 km ahead.

Descending is much easier. Naturally. The road is still rubbish but I can free wheel at a good pace. There are circular marks along the road side where yurta stood. I guess they have been taken down and the owners moved on to somewhere lower down and less exposed for the winter.

I reach Jumgal. A small village with a I arrive at sunset as farmers are bringing in herds of cows and goats in for the night. There are wild cats and wolves in the mountains, so farmers are wary of such beasts and want to protect their herds. I am shouted at by an angry alcoholic but given lots of cheery hellos by school children as I pass the local school. The school is huge for such a small village. This is something I have noticed in Kyrgyzstan, especially the rural areas. The schools are large and well looked after. This can only be a good thing.


A village as I climb the Kyzart Pass.

At the top! Unfortunately my Gopro has a small scratch on the lens.

Day 108. Bye bye Issyk Kul.

It is beginning to feel very autumnal. Apple trees are everywhere heavy with fruit. Kind lads wave at me to stop and hand me apples to munch as I ride. I head west towards Kochkor as a massive thunder storm approaches. I can see lightening from a long way off but it is heading straight towards me. A dense black mass of cloud approaches. It feels very exciting, but i am pretty sure that within half an hour I will find it less so! There is no cover and nowhere to duck in and hide. I am about to get very wet.

Half an hour later squelching along I am a little less enthusiastic. Fortunately the storm moves quickly over me and over head towards the lake. I am now back in the Tian Shan mountains. The scenery is fantastic, and as I approach Kochkor the road improves massively.

I reach Kochkor just before another down pour. I don't explore so much. It is cold and wet and the town is not that inspiring.


Community stand pipes are common in the villages near Issyk Kul. Not all houses have mains water. 

Day 107. Bokonbayev

A day of punctures slowed me considerably. The lake continues to be beautiful but Bokonbayev is not. I find a grotty hotel and search for food. However by 8pm most things are closed. I find a grocers buy tinned fish and crisps and trudge back to my room in the rain.

Day 106 Tamga

During the cold war Lake Issyk Kul was used as a test site for Soviet submarines and torpedoes. This carries on to this day. The lake is large and deep and does not freeze in winter making it perfect for research purposes. Sanitariums line the shore and were a popular retreat during Soviet times. At the village of Tamga a now neglected sanatorium exists that Yuri Gagarin stayed in after his pioneering space voyage. The village itself is small and pretty, with snow capped mountains to its south and the lake to its north. Crops of apples surround the village with an old Soviet fighter plane on a plinth as one arrives at the northern edge of the village.


Tamga Village.

MIG something or another and Lake Issyk Kul.

Day 105. Karakol

Karakol is Kyrgyzstan's 4th largest city after Bishkek, Osh and Jalal-Abad. It is a centre for outside sports including trekking and skiing. The town itself is not so remarkable, typical stoic Soviet architecture and crumbling concrete statues of the past litter parks. I put my tent on the washing line at the hostel to dry out and go out to explore. There is a central square that has similar scenes that I have witnessed through out central Asia. Families congregate, music plays. Kids whizz around on rented bicycles and electric powered cars whilst a statue of Lenin looks on. At the War Memorial newly weds have their photos taken, as I witnessed elsewhere in the former Soviet Union. I finish the day stuffing a Shashlik down my neck.


WWII Cemetery.

Day 104. As you were Scotland.

I wake a little chilly. Blearily I leave my tent and look around. The snow line on the mountains is now much lower. No snow where I am as it is low but it is still chilly. I pack a damp tent and get back onto the road. At the first village I find I stop at a shop and get some food. The sun is out and I begin to warm up. I get to Karakol and find the hostel that I plan to meet some of the guys that I met in Bishkek. Being back in the land of the living I log on to the interweb and have a look at the news. Scotland did not vote yes. It voted no. I feel a little disappointing. After spending two days on the bike thinking and imagining what an independent Scotland might mean within a click of the fingers (or online click) I realise it is back to normal in the UK, nothing to see here and move along now.


The road to Karakol.

Day 103. Lake Issyk Kul.

Lake Issyk Kul is a popular tourist resort catering principally for Kyrgyz and Kazakh holiday makers. It even has a small airport at Tamchy that has direct flights from Bishkek and Almaty. However I am there during September and the weather is already on the turn and the holiday season has finished. I ride around some of the lakeside resort towns full of closed bars, guesthouses, ice cream stalls and restaurants and hum "Every day is like Sunday" by Morrissey to myself. This place looks very lively during peak season and just 4 weeks earlier I would have witnessed a very different scene.

I leave the lake side quiet and press on down the highway. Unfortunately the weather turns, and becomes wet, very wet. I am soon drenched and by now far from available accommodation. I find a suitable spot off the road hidden by foliage and put my tent up. Dry and warm I feel better and sleep.

Friendly faces!

The lake side town, that has already closed down.