Kyrgyzstan

Kyrgyzstan, the unforgettable

Picture: saddlestories.at

Unfortunately my camera didn't survive the Pamir Highway and the roads in Kyrgyzstan.

So all the pictures you see are just from my (half-broken) mobile phone.

Angelika and Reinhard from saddlestories on the left

Church in Karakol

Thinking that Kyrgyzstan would be easy after the Pamir and Peak Lenin Peak was a mistake, a terrible mistake. I have never ridden as many mountain passes as I have in this country. Never have I seen such bad washboard-roads, and I just couldn’t find the solution to riding them.
Kyrgyzstan was the first country I was desperately looking forward to the climbs, because the steep climb meant the end of the horrible bumpy washboard roads!
It was the first country I truly wished I had smaller gear and less luggage. It was the first time I finished a ride after dark, completely covered in mud, after a long day riding in snowstorms and making endless river-crossings.

There are 2 stories I would like to share. Two memorable and unforgettable days.

The first one is about the second day back on the bike after the peak Lenin adventure. I hitchhiked from Osh to Jalalabad and started cycling east from there. This was the second day and there was a huge climb waiting for me. The perfect tarmac road, soon changed into a gravel-road that meandered direction mountains. It was already a bit late when I started the real climb: 15 km of hairpins and over 1500m of elevation. I turned my mind into climbing mode and, slowly but steadily, continued my way up to the pass. I remember, while I was working my way up, seeing this couple of vultures, with their impressive wings spread open, gliding through the air. One of them came really close to me, as if he wanted to check if there was something tasty to grab, and then he disappeared again, high in the sky, joining his vulture friend.

2 Hairpins later next to a waterwell I was stopped by some locals, offering me vodka and food. As usual they wanted selfies, but this time it was almost in an aggressive way. Probably the vodka had been doing it's work already. They just didn't understand why I refused the vodka. 'It is good for cycling!!' hmmm I’m not so sure!!!

By the time I reached the mountain pass it was almost 7 pm. There was a sharp wind and the temperature was dropping as the sun was sinking behind the horizon. Due to the strong wind it was just impossible to camp at the top so I had to find shelter a bit lower. I wanted to find a camping place as soon as possible, and hit the downhill.

Soon my fingers were ice-cold and my toes, that had been frozen before, felt half numb and were getting sore.




It was not so easy to find a good spot, there was zero space next to the road and the wind was increasing by the minute. By the time I reached an acceptable place to put up my tent, I couldn't feel my fingers, so breaking and controlling my speed became complicated.

There was already a little tent on this flat area and 2 kids walked up to me just as I parked my bike. The girl, maybe 9 years old, saw how I was struggling with my hands and offered for me to come inside and have some tea. Of course I accepted their invitation with gratitude and went into the tent.

To be honest, the tent was miserable, even more because it was their only home. It was made of wood and plastic covers. It had some protection from the wind, but that was relative; with this strong wind it was just leaking air everywhere. Halfway into their tent there was some kind of 3x3m platform covered by carpets where we could sit. We had to put some pillows by the sides, so we wouldn't feel too much air coming from under the sidewalls. There was no fire or light. Just a few clothes and other stuff piled up in the back.

I installed myself on the carpets and the mother came in to serve me some tea and food. The girl was very curious and tried to speak a few words of english, meanwhile the younger boy was so shy he didn't even want to come in. For the first time ever the tea I was offered was not really tea, but just hot water. This family was poor, so poor they couldn't even offer tea, but still they invited me in and wanted to share everything with me.

I didn't care about the water/tea and warmed my hands by holding the cup as long as possible. Soon the mother also served me a plate of cold basic 'laghman' and some old bread. I started eating like a hungry cyclist after a long cycling day... But quickly I realised that this was probably the only food they had, and I was the only one eating. Probably the kids would eat after me. I still had some food and good bread in my bags which I could eat, but at that moment it felt like it would be impolite to take out my own food. So I stopped eating. I decided I could survive a night going to bed a little bit hungry.

Of course I was right and once I finished my meal, the kids continued eating from the same plate. Luckily I had left them something, and I felt bad that had I eaten so much already. By that time it was completely dark and the God of wind just kept on having his partytime. When I wanted to put up my tent the mother kind of forbade me and said I had to sleep in their tent. It would be impossible to sleep anywhere else in this weather. Which was not so untrue.. After making sure that no husband would come home that night, I accepted this kind invitation. Pillows and mattresses were spread out, and we installed ourselves for the night. The four of us next to each other. Me and the mother on the outsides, the 2 kids in the middle. However like a true cyclist, I just couldn't stop thinking about eating, so I thought it might be a good idea to share one of my big chocolate bars between the 4 of us. The kids were in seventh heaven and their mother also seemed overjoyed with it. I felt relieved that I could eat something else, without being impolite, and at the same time I could make this family happy.

Nicely covered with heavy blankets and listening to the regular breathing of the girl in my left ear, I tried I fall asleep. Nevertheless with the noise of the wind mixed with the barking of dogs, it was proving impossible. It took me hours to find a good sleep and when I finally did, it was already time for the mother to wake up again. It must have been around 4 am. For me it felt in the middle of the night, while for her a new day had started. The cows wouldn’t wait to be milked. Half an hour later she was yelling at the kids to come out and help her. They tried to ignore her and sleep a little longer but that didn't work out very well. Half asleep the kids stumbled out of the tent, into the dark night to help their mother milk the cows. I felt so incredibly grateful that I was born in the right part of this globe, meaning as a kid I could wake up at a normal time and go to school, instead of going to work. Finally the wind had calmed down, so I closed my eyes again and slept a little longer.

The next day I finished up in a completely different situation. Again I was in a family house with only a mother and her 18-year old son at home. But this time, the house was big and brand new. I had my own room to sleep in, and for the first time since maybe Armenia I was sitting in somebody's home, in a normal kitchen, at a normal table. They made me eat more then I was capable. Here, the kitchen with a table, especially overwhelmed me. I was not used to this any more and it made the experience from the night before feel even more like a strange dream. Two completely different worlds, just a few kilometres away. 

Kyrgystan turned out to be an incredibly beautiful country with so many possibilities. I continued on my way passing the high altitude lake of Son-Kul and from there on to Naryn and Karakol. To reach Karakol I was following the same track used by the Silk Road Mountain Race (SRMR) which was taking place at the same time. It's an ultra mtb race also used for bikepacking by some people.

My bike wasn't really suitable for those roads but anyway!. The first couple of days from Naryn went quite well and I was feeling quite strong but on the third day me and maybe even more my bike began to struggle.

I had camped with Daniel, an American cyclist who was doing the whole SRMR track as a tourist rather than racing it.

We started the day in the pouring rain half way through a seemingly endless valley in the middle of nowhere. Most of the time the track was grassy which was fine for Dan on his light bikepacking bike but because of it's heavier weight my bike was sinking into the ground making it a struggle to keep up.

Nevertheless at the first river crossing I thought I was doing fairly well, even managing to cycle across without having to put my feet in the water. As I reached the far bank I heard Danny yelling from behind me. I turned around to see one of my Ortlieb bags floating away down the river. The bag must have fallen off it's hanging system because the bolts had come loose. I retrieved the bag from the water and we managed to fix the hanging system with some handy spare screws and continue on our way.

A little bit later I had a major puncture without any obvious cause. Having taken off the tyre I saw that the rim tape had come adrift so in the pouring rain I tried to replace the rim tape with some duck tape and using my last inner tube we got going again, hoping that the repair would hold.

But there you go! 5km later a short sharp PSSSHHH and I had another puncture. The ducktape hadn't stayed in place.
I felt desperate.

I was soaked to the bone,
my feet were cold and my toes which had previously been frozen were starting to hurt again.

We were in the middle of f****** nowhere where not even a 4WD could reach us,
and I felt bad for Danny who was sticking with me.


Fortunately the rain was stopping.

Danny boiled some soup while I dug into the bottom of my Ortlieb bag and found a small tube of 1 second glue.
I cut out some new duck tape and managed to glue it to the rim.
We repaired the least punctured of the inner tubes with the biggest patches I had,
and whilst we were at it fixed the front rack on my bike which had become loose.

I put on some dry socks and shoes and we got underway hoping for the best.

And the repair held! Inevitably as you would expect there were a few more obstacles ahead. The Arabella pass at the end of the valley was so steep I couldn't ride all the way up it.
Fortunately Danny was there to help me, pushing my bike up the last few meters with me.

On the plateau which was sooooo beautiful we were confronted with a heavy snowstorm and very strong wind but we found a little hut where some kind person served us tea. An hour later the wind calmed and it stopped snowing so we got on our way again.












The road down was very muddy but the downhill towards Issyk-Kul lake was crazy and really cool.
I enjoyed it so much and it was the best reward for persisting and not giving up through a long day of struggles.


We just managed to finish the downhill before night surrounded us with darkness.
With some help from Danny's front light (mine broke a long time ago) we reached checkpoint 3 of the SRMR where food, a hot shower, some beers and a bed revived us.

We were mud monsters by the time we had arrived at the checkpoint, just like all the other participants.
It felt crazy that I had done it on a bike.

I felt so tired but still happy.

how the bicycle looked like, next morning

cleaning day

well-deserved ice-cream with Danny

Happy because I hadn't given up;
happy and thankful for Danny's help and company.
Thankful as well that I can live all these adventures in far away countries and had made it safely to this beautiful place, surrounded by warm, crazy, special people.

And happy that I could finally go to sleep.

Goodbye Kirgizstan