Tian Shan Traverse Part 1 - Cycling adventure in Kyrgyzstan

Searching for and planning an adventure

The first time I read a travel report about Kyrgyzstan, I was immediately excited. My curiosity about the unknown, as well as my interest in the Soviet past and the semi-nomadic way of life, wouldn't let me go. In early summer, I decided to go on a big bike tour with my good friend Yannic before his semester abroad. Initial thoughts of the Pamir Highway were quickly discarded for reasons of cost, safety and time and our choice fell on Kyrgyzstan.

To clear up any confusion about the name of the country, I will briefly explain it here: All three versions are commonly used in German. The Federal Foreign Office uses Kyrgyzstan. This is a transcription peculiarity, according to Nikolai Genov, professor at the Institute for East European Studies at the Free University of Berlin. Kyrgyzstan comes closest to the Kyrgyz name. Kyrgyzstan was coined by the Soviet occupation and is therefore no longer appropriate.

Heading into the mountains

The next morning, we leave the city of 800,000 inhabitants by the quickest route. In the morning, we mainly drive along a canal on the plain. There is hardly any groundwater in Kyrgyzstan and most of the water for the city comes more or less sensibly channeled directly from the mountains. Water experts are certain that Kyrgyzstan will face major challenges due to the dwindling glaciers. Without human intervention, the landscape in Kyrgyzstan's plains is very barren. Little grows on its own in the golden soil. As the temperature is almost 40 degrees, we take a break or two under a shady tree.

At midday, the first ascent begins and it quickly becomes very green. Fir trees line the path and the temperatures become pleasant, especially when we stand under the Kegety waterfall. We pitch our tent at just over 2000 m and Yannic repairs his shoes himself with epoxy glue for the first time - the shoemaker's attempts to glue them in Bishkek were not very successful.

A quick note on the drinking water supply at this point. In principle, it is not a problem to find water of sufficient quality. The two of us never carry more than eight liters of drinking water. Once you leave civilization, the streams quickly run clear. Spring water is of course also easily drinkable high up. However, I don't recommend drinking meltwater directly below glaciers, as it is controversial due to sediment, low mineral content, bacteria and atmospheric contamination.

The next day, we continue towards the Kegety Pass. At first, the gravelly and partly blocked path meanders along a river, lined with many fir trees. Gradually, the vegetation becomes increasingly sparse and the river disappears. Around midday, we meet three guys from Minnesota who are following in the footsteps of the old Silk Road. They are walking so as not to go too fast. They each have a trolley for their luggage, which reminds me of my grandma's golf trolley. The three of them have already been on the road for two years and they will experience a few more seasons before they arrive in Istanbul, their destination. As we continue to work off the altitude, I think about whether our planned trip of just under four weeks isn't a little short and what motivates some people to undertake such a long journey. Is it life in the moment, or the content of the experiences? In the long term, I would not only miss a permanent home, but also conventional education.

Immersed in these thoughts, we quickly reach the top of the pass at 3832 meters. From there, we enjoy a magnificent view of the countless mountains of the Tian Shan for the first time. The contrasts between the clouds, blue sky, snowfields and various shades of green are enchanting.

In my opinion, the path down the other side is not even passable on a motocross bike. It's extremely steep and very debris-laden in places, and totally blocked in others. When in doubt, we slide on the seat of our pants. On our first descents, we first have to get used to putting a lot of strain on our bikes. As you can imagine, in Kyrgyzstan you either need screw glue or spare screws, because the vibrations shake everything loose.

In the morning, we reach the Pereval Karakol at 3400 m. For the last stretch, we heave the bikes over a large snowfield, the remains of a cornice. On the descent into the valley, we cycle kilometer after kilometer and wonder where the altitude we are losing comes from. The relaxed cycling also comes in handy, as my stomach hurts a little from the Kymes. Not eating is not an option either, as we need the energy.

We cycle past beautiful flower meadows. The idyll is only interrupted a few times by aggressive dogs. In an emergency, you just have to put your feet up or be armed with stones. After hours in a strong headwind, we reach the end of the valley. We share the following road with cars and large trucks. The gravel is extremely dusty and annoying ruts have formed in places. But we soon reach a breathtaking valley formed by a raging river. The red tones of the rocks in the evening sun are impressive.

I am surprised when a VW bus with an Italian license plate overtakes us. A few hundred meters further on, the bus is waiting by the road wheel and we exchange a few words with the driver. We are amazed to discover that he is traveling alone. He tells us that he set off from Stockholm six days ago and will only be spending the next ten days in Central Asia. We don't understand his style of travel, but he is very likeable.

The lightning misses us - the diarrhea hits us

The next day, we continue through the steppe of Kyrgyzstan. Again and again we drive through small villages. Every now and then we take a short break because the Kymes greets us. In Chaek we first go on a shopping tour. I buy a hat with a brim and Yannic finds shoes in size 44 after hours of rummaging - his cycling shoes have finally given up the ghost. Before we turn off into the mountains again, we stop at a small settlement and seek refuge from a dust storm and brief rain shower in a store.

We continue on, but the sky quickly gets darker and darker and it starts to thunder. We are at a bit of a loss as to what to do. It's 3 km back to the village with shelter options. When lightning strikes 2 km away from us, the decision is quickly made and we head back towards the village. The cemetery where we are waiting doesn't really offer any shelter, but the thunderstorm quickly moves on. We then start the ascent to Songköl. The altitude difference is harder than expected and it takes us quite a long time to get over the pass. On the short descent from the pass to the lake behind, I lose the nut that attaches my pannier rack to the frame by the rear brake. As a result, I tear a triangle in one of the panniers. The first cable tie is finally used to reattach the pannier rack.

We pitch our tent near the lakeshore and cook dinner. Boys from a nearby yurt quickly come by again. We think back and forth for a long time about whether the approaching clouds might bring another thunderstorm. After the sun has already set, we ask the boys if we can sleep in their yurt. The thought of camping on the plateau during a thunderstorm worries us. Together with the boys, we drive to the yurt and our request is not refused. We are also served a stew of cabbage, potatoes and sheep before the family and the seven of us sleep in a yurt. I found it interesting to see that the yurt was the mother's absolute territory.

The next morning, Yannic and I discuss whether we should give the family money. On the one hand, we would like to show our appreciation, but on the other, I find the idea that you can do this with money not at all trivial, but rather socially conditioned. That's why we don't do it and try to express our gratitude with gestures. However, a very loud argument between the couple after saying goodbye makes me suspect that, from the husband's point of view, the wife should have demanded money from us. Of course, this is just speculation. However, as the day progresses, we also realize that many nomads around Songköl earn money by providing accommodation.

After the yurt, we have to climb a few more meters before a long, beautiful descent awaits us. We look for a place to sleep in a riverbed. Unfortunately, the fastenings on one of Yannic's panniers can't withstand the drop into the riverbed, but a Swiss army knife can do a lot of repair work.

After breakfast, we make a short detour to Tash Rabat, a well-preserved caravanserai from the 15th century. Tash Rabat means "stone hostel". I wonder why this one permanent hostel is located exactly at this point along the entire Silk Road through Kyrgyzstan. The history of the place sheds light on this: it is assumed that the building is a Nestorian or Buddhist monastery from the ninth or tenth century.

On the way back, we meet four French people. One couple is on a tandem bike. In conversations with Kyrgyz people, we are often asked about the price of the bikes. Our mountain bikes are priced quite normally for the Kyrgyz, but the tandem riders tell us that they lie to the Kyrgyz out of shame at owning an 8000 € bike when this question comes up. For the rest of the day, we cycle relaxed, on a tarred road for the first time in a long time. Although there is an alternative gravel road with less traffic, the stretch between Tash Rabat and At Bashi is not very busy anyway and the good road surface allows us to enjoy the wonderfully wide valley to the full. In the late afternoon, there are lots of people looking to cool off along the river where we spend the night.

We continue on the tarred road to Naryn. We arrive there in the late morning and stop at the CBT (Community Based Tourism). We use the Wi-Fi there to reconnect with the world outside Kyrgyzstan. We also exchange experiences with other travelers. You can also apply for a permit at the CBT if you want to travel to the border with China. There is an area near the border where this is required.

We do some bulk shopping, as we have to manage without supplies for the next few days. In the afternoon, we head into the mountains.

PART 2 WILL FOLLOW NEXT.