Kellen Smetana
I should have put 2 and 2 together sooner.  Every single traveller we met in Bishkek was in Kyrgyzstan to do high-altitude mountain trekking, long horse treks, or crisscross the country on some kind of ‘cycle (bi- or motor-).  Nobody was simply passing through on a backpacker route.  I can now see why: this country is intense and simply oozing natural beauty.

Leaving the guesthouse, the owner’s wife came out to bid us adieu as she said “it is always very moving to see the cyclists ride off…”  Small heartwarming actions such as that can almost make you feel like you have a mother watching over you even in these distant parts of the world; a wonderful start to the day from an amazing guesthouse (Sakurna’s if you ever find yourself in the Kyrgyz capital).  We used the remainder of the day to put us at the base of the green hulking mountains sitting ready to swallow us up for the next week.

The next day was truly epic: 50km straight of very difficult climbing, the last 20 of which were almost entirely at a 12% grade.  In seven hours we gained over 2,200 meters in elevation to put us at the top of the 3,264 meter (10,710 feet) Too-Ashuu pass.  How do you say… “that was exhausting,” in Kyrgyz?

The ascent began simply enough; we followed a cobalt-colored, rapid-full river for a while.  As soon as we left this, the road went nuts: switchback after switchback clinging to the side of lovely green mountains.  About 10 kilometers from the top of the pass, a summer storm moved in (what would these high passes be without crazy weather…).  Early in the climb we had been dripping in sweat, now we were drenched in rain and very cold.  Finally, legs duly fatigued and body shivering, we reached the tunnel at the top.  We found a weather station just off the road in which we were able to dry (somewhat) and layer on all our clothes, hoping to spare our hands and feet a repeat of the snowstorm descent in Qinghai.  The workers manning the station were even nice enough to bring us some hot water to warm with.

Ready to rock, we hit the tunnel.  At 3 km, it was our longest of the trip, and we burst out on the other side into a beautiful green, open glacial valley filled with sun!

We spent the next day in this stunning valley and found an excellent campsite there as well.  These high glacial valleys are known as jailoos in Kyrgyz and the country takes great pride in them.  Many Kyrgyz still live in yurts in these jailoos and keep to a rather nomadic lifestyle.  Not a bad place to call your home.

A second pass got us out of the valley, and we went downhill… fast.  It was basically the inverse of our climb the previous day, and this again we attacked in full rainstorm (though by now you could have assumed that…).  The views, somewhat marred by the rain and clouds, were still incredible; it was quite possibly the greenest place I have ever been.  Simply fantastic.

On the descent I had my ninth through eleventh dog chases of the day.  I feel I should write about these as you will see this statistic has skyrocketed since we left China (now I realize why Ben thought the dogs there were such wimps).  Most dogs are just enticed by the excitement of a healthy chase, so the best remedy when I see – or hear – a hot pursuit starting is to slam on the brakes and hop off the bike.  Within four seconds, either they have gotten bored or feel they have somehow won the battle (either one is fine with me) and retreat to their previous musings.  In certain aggressive cases, like a couple on this descent, I’m happy to have my bike as a blocker between me and the canine’s set of pearly whites, but most of the time these encounters are only a minor annoyance.  The fun chases – those that really get my heart pumping – are those where I have calculated my speed, the dogs’ distance, and, of course, their stature, and decide to outrun them.  Later in the day I had three dogs howl away behind me for nearly a half-mile (my algorithm missed a slight uphill) before I sped away out of reach; it was just enough to get them riled up and ready for Ben, who was following close behind.

The rest of the week we skirted two alpine reservoirs, put in one more tough climb, and advanced through the rolling hills and deep red valleys of central Kyrgyzstan.  The country is absolutely full of natural splendor; great campsites abound in a canvas of green mountains, azure reservoirs, bubbling rivers, and brilliant red rocks.

Sometimes it’s tough to truly appreciate the beauty of these places when I am spoiled with so much of it at once, but looking back through my photos I can see just how fortunate I am.  Kyrgyzstan is a magnificent country tucked away in Central Asia and one that I will not soon forget.

Kellen Smetana
Almaty, capital of Kazakhstan until 1998 when the Kazakh president decided to build Astana, and Bishkek, capital of Kyrgyzstan, are separated by a mere 250 kilometers.  They have also already taken over spots 1 and 2 in my list of favorite cities of the trip.  I did not think the (few) Chinese cities we visited had much organic character (with the exception of parts of Urumqi and some of the smaller towns); for the most part, it felt like the Chinese government bulldozed all the old and made way for the modern, clean, bland new.  Almaty and Bishkek have character.  (Think Boston versus Phoenix – no offense to anyone living in Arizona).

Almaty
A very green, tree-strewn city at the base of the towering Zailiysky Alatau Mountains in Kazakhstan: my favorite city of the trip so far.  It is also the final destination for much of the oil money from Kazakhstan’s Caspian reserves and it wasn’t difficult to spot this in the nice homes and cars.

Our sejour started rather annoyingly when we discovered we had to burn a day visiting the Migration Office to collect a stamp that proves we were in the country (in addition to the one they give you at the border…) or risk paying a huge fine upon departure.  Say it with me: “bureaucracy is fun!”  Fortunately we were able to put our elite queuing skills acquired in China into practice, elbowing shouting teenagers and boxing out old babushkas all clawing for the ultimate goal, a mouth directly in front of the clerk’s small window opening.  Eventually it proved less of a hassle than we feared and we were on our way by midday.  Ben returned to the hostel and I decided to spend the afternoon visiting David, owner of Stantours, an agency that helps with Central Asian visas, to ask him some questions about my upcoming visa deluge.

To get there, I took a “taxi.”  In Almaty, there are official taxis with proper signs, but the cool thing is that any car on the street is a potential taxi.  Just walk on the correct side of the road, stick out your thumb, and someone will pull over; you can quickly discuss the location and price, and if they are headed your way, it’s a win-win for everyone.  So I figured I had to test the waters.

I stuck out my hand and was picked up by an old red Soviet car within seconds.  We agreed on a price and sped off.  Three minutes later he cut across two lanes of traffic to pick up another two riders.  At first I was annoyed that he was continuing to operate before dropping me off, then I saw he was picking up a model-looking woman dressed to the nines and her young son.  Fair enough.  Parked by the curb, I could hear others passing on the street hooting and whistling as the two climbed in.  I just looked up and quietly said hello.  Very soon, at the driver’s persistent smiling emphasis, I found out she was one of Kazakhstan’s most famous musicians, a violinist, and she had just finished filming a television program, which explained the elaborate make-up and dress at 3pm.  We had a nice chat about my bike trip and her performances in New York City before dropping the two of them off at some huge home.  Afterwards, I got a good laugh out of the driver, who was grinning from ear to ear and decided to express this vocally by rocking out to Ace of Base for the remainder of my ride.

The next day was my birthday, and we celebrated with a trip to the Kyrgyz consulate.  This again proved easier than expected, mostly because I pleaded with the clerk to pick up the visas same day.  He inhaled about 10 cubic meters of air and proceeded to exhale slowly (while I glanced from him to the non-existent line behind me, and back to him several times) before agreeing.  We also pieced together a city walking tour and fun night out with Henrik, the same Danish cyclist we had met in Urumqi, to cap the day.

Bishkek
Two days later we were in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, another leafy green city at the foot of towering peaks.  The stay started out well when the stout Russian neighbor to the hostel brought over homemade barley rum (mmm… just kidding) for everyone our first night there.  I was nearly crying in laughter when he could not understand one of the British guy’s jokes and continually threw his arms up in fits of drunken anger.  The next day an unsuccessful visit to the Uzbek embassy meant we had to stay the weekend (I wasn’t too opposed).

Saturday evening, nobody else was up for the local football (soccer) match, but I decided to go anyway.  It was awesome.  Bishkek’s second-tier team was playing a home game in the city’s large 30,000 capacity stadium.  I arrived to find open gates and only about 900 fans; I think more people used to come to my high-school track meets.  800 of those fans were polishing off their sixth refilled plastic bottle of beer and the atmosphere was rowdie!  This was only amplified during the thirty minute rain delay caused by another one of those wicked storms from the west.  In the end, Bishkek came out victorious 3-0.  An altogether fun evening; it’s always great to see how universally loved sports are.

Sunday, the three girls working at the hostel offered to show Ben, me, and our new Parisian friend Joel around the city.  We spent the afternoon hopping between parks and landmarks, enjoying the beauty of the city and its local drinks – I’m finally starting to get used to kumys (fermented mare’s milk).

The hostel here has been excellent; it’s a crossroads of trekkers and fellow cyclists from around the world.  I may even partner up with a really cool British guy, Theo, heading west from Tashkent, Uzbekistan.  As we wait for the embassy to reopen, I have also fit in some time to rest and work on the bike to prepare it for the massive Kyrgyz mountain ranges to come.

We’ll be back on the road soon and from stories circulating at the guesthouse, it should prove to be some more excellent riding (did you really expect anything less?).