Song-Kul and the Steppe

When the wind drops, the silence of the high steppe is profound. I did my best to explain to my impromptu host how much I appreciated the absolute peace after the constant noise of England, even in Cornwall, while standing in the chill air outside of his yurt, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains. I’m not sure he completely understood; describing the relative crowdedness, and over-abundance of motor vehicles might be like trying to describe the ocean to someone who has never seen it.

Song-Kul lake is, rightly, considered one of the jewels in a crowded Kyrgyz crown of natural beauty. The eastern end however is populated with an abundance of tourist yurt camps, many of which are available to book on sites like booking.com, and offer a curated experience of Kyrgyz life with hot water and excellent food.

I dropped my tent in the meadow, looking forward to a pre-dinner snooze. It was not to be, no sooner had I settled into my sleeping bag than I heard singing outside…

Having spotted a number of shiny tour operator 4x4s and minibuses picking their way carefully along the rough dirt I was more than keen to avoid that experience. It is not why I prefer to travel by bicycle. Waylaid enroute to the lake by a bunch of horsemen out tending their herds, I was pointed in the direction of a family who would welcome a tired, dusty cyclist, an option which suited me far better – I would much prefer to put my $$ somewhere where it could make a difference.

The journey to the lake began in the hot, dusty little village of Kyzyl-Oi, from where I last wrote. I stayed in a little homestay, run by a lovely elderly couple and their daughter, with a disintegrating old Lada and a bunch of chickens in the front yard. As often seems inevitable on such a journey I experienced something of a ‘wobble’ while there…. some upsetting news from home, combined with a deep fatigue. I struggled to commit to getting back on the road and only made it 43 half-hearted km to the small town of Chaek where I found a hot shower and some fresh fruit. Sometimes one simply has to find a little comfort from time to time along the way. There wasn’t much to eat on a Sunday evening but there was a friendly little noodle stall on the main road where I enjoyed a couple of bowls of cold, spicy Ashlyan-fu (noodles with bean starch) while watching the late afternoon dust devils whip by outside.

From Chaek it’s a long old grind of around 60km to the top of Tjibel Pass, the ‘gateway’ to Song-Kul if you like. Not particularly high at around 3300m, but very steep on its upper reaches; I did not expect to make it in one day… and it is a story I can perhaps better tell with pictures as usual.

As I write I’m resting up in the small town of Baetov, a dusty little grid sitting at around 2000m altitude. The last few days I’ve been having problems with some severe eczema, especially around my eyes and on my face. A consequence of the fatigue, limited diet, and super-dry air I think. I also feel absolutely knackered… as I age my body can still do the hard days, but it needs more rest afterwards. I will be here for 2 days for sure, maybe 3. There isn’t much here but I’ve found a bed in a delightfully crappy old Soviet accommodation block. It’s all ramshackle old concrete, exposed wiring, hospital lighting and wonky corridors slapped with gloss primrose paint, with a pit toilet out the back. The bed however is comfy, the water is hot, the host friendly, and I managed to jerry-rig a curtain from a bedspread and my tent poles. I have also been given permission to use the washing machine which is amazing, my clothes were particularly mucky on arrival :-).

I find this kind of travel can be similar to getting your sea-legs back after some time on land. I’m happy here and the road ahead looks hard, suprise, so I’ll leave when I feel ready. In the meantime I shall be sleeping, and trying to fit some calories back into my body… and there may even be some pics of the place.