Kyrgyzstan the Breathtaking - Day 3
Landscapes encountered today:
Eastern Kyrgyzstan, Yosemite, Mongolia.
Champagne Gravel!
We woke in Kyzyl Os and were treated to another great breakfast, this time fried eggs, crepes, fratata, grapes, local donuts the most delicious local honey, all grainy and creamy. The food on this trip has been very good, beyond my expectations and a real highlight. To that point, I’m not sure what I was expecting, I guess stodgier fare, more stews and potatoes, an altogether starchier affair - but there’s been loads of fresh fruit, fantastic bread, natural yogurt, nuts - yes, happy to be able to say that this place has some great food.
Anyway, 98km today with 1700m of up. Our first challenge was a 40km long valley with a bumpy gravel road at a 3% incline. To be fair, this thing sucked and the headwind compounded that! We ended up splintering too, time and again, as it was difficult to set a tempo to suit all. Eventually we emerged from the Valley of Doom, as we rather dramatically called it, into an American national park.
Huh?
Exactly.
After the dusty nothingness of the plain then onto some low-level orangey-brown hills, totally nondescript, we took a left after a bridge and there before us was a valley of verdant green, with steep inclines and pine trees jutting straight up to the sky. On the right a river slithered elegantly along beside us, and each turn we took revealed more Yosemite-esque vistas. Stunningly beautiful, the valley lasted about 8km, taking us to the 50km mark, and we decided to stop for lunch.
More great bread, good local cheese, those filthy tomatoes, olives, coffee, after which, suitably bloated and in no state to climb a 10km hill… we then proceeded to climb a 40km hill.
The first 20km were quite mellow and manageable, 4-5%, but the last 10km were quite tough, especially at this altitude, some 3,300m by the summit. As yesterday though, the views were stellar. We regrouped at the top for 20km of descending, and this is where the Mongolian part in the intro comes in.
Once over the summit, I was gobsmacked. Had I just been transported to the land of Ghengis Khan, the country I’ve ridden in on five different occasions? This was not just similar - it was identical. We started to see more and more yurts, outside of which were either herds of horses, cattle or goats -or all three. The immediacy of the change in landscape is very surprising and I’ve not witnessed it before.
So many of the herders waved at us from outside their little homes, some of which are basic lean to’s, most though are reminiscent of the Romany caravans of early to mid last century, brightly coloured in red or green or blue with wooden slats and chimney pipes, on truck wheels and with a toll bar. Most are static though likely they could be moved if needed.
I asked our guide Alex whether these were inhabited year round, and he said no, too cold in winter, so the herders move into houses in the nearby towns. It looks a hard life but an honest one, and from the waves and shouts of hello we have received since day 1, generally people seem outgoing and welcoming.
Robert was feeling it a little in the last 20km, and to be honest so was I - this was one of those ‘great descents’ your mate tells you about that ends up having more than a few ascents along the way, those little leg busters that load up the lactic a little more with each one. The more tired you are, the less great it is!
We eventually rolled into our yurt camp on the edge of Song Kul lake, and has to be said it is a very lovely spot. Alex and Robert both flaked out on the earth whilst I went off to get some drone shots. A couple of beers may have been imbibed watching the sunset, who can say for sure? I do know that the purchasing of the implied beers went down like a hash deal on a northern English caravan estate circa 1992. Our camp only had 1 beer (yes, ONE - yet as I write this at 10pm I am more and more convinced that the Kyrgyzstan uncles attempting karaoke renditions of Kyrgyzstan’s Top 10 Hits of 1989 outside at the campfire must have drank the rest), so there was a phone call made from here to another camp, then we had to meet a representative from that camp come over, who shouted over to another camp nearby, and we were then whisked to a locked yurt round the back, which, when opened, revealed a large stash of booze- it was all a bit cloak and dagger.
Do you need also a Kalashnikov? she did not ask, but I wish she had.
Would have made a nice souvenir.
As with all our KOJO recon tours, we do our due diligence, sourcing the best black market goods for our guests.
And dinner, our here in the middle of nowhere, produced in a yurt, was again fantastic, and I ate too much of it.
Bring on the Ozempic.
