Arabel

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It is a long, long, and spectacular climb to the Arabel Pass, and a few days on the trail that made me very happy indeed...

Naryn held on to me for a few days longer than planned… food poisoning. I’d eaten at the market, and perhaps given that it’s been almost 10 years of travels since I was similarly afflicted I had become somewhat blasé. Never mind, it wasn’t all bad – I missed out on riding through a couple of days of truly horrendous weather with high winds, thunderstorms, and heavy rain (snow at higher elevations).. instead experiencing it in the company of some actual, decent coffee in a little cafe on the high street.

It’s a lonely stretch and I might have discovered that the horses don’t really pay too much attention to a greeting from a passing cyclist, no matter how friendly or verbose. They don’t really seem to care too much about the weather forecast either…

I could ill afford to lose yet more weight so the day I left Naryn my legs felt like they belonged to someone else, a situation that happily only lasted a day given the roughly 210km of almost continuous climbing ahead. As is usually the case it is easier to tell the story of a truly outstanding few days on the trail with pictures.

Naryn
Naryn. It’s not what you would call a pretty place however there are a couple of good cafés at which beer might be available if you ask.. and a decent supermarket for supplies.
Having set sail from Naryn in a generally north-easterly direction the riding starts to become interesting after 50km or so…
.. approaching the tiny community of Eki-Naryn.
There are snow leopards in the mountains here apparently.
The thickly forested valley at Eki-Naryn. The track climbs steeply through the gorge for around 15km..
..before the scenery opens out into a wide river valley with much grazing. The farms looked year round, given the relatively low altitude of about 2500m.
I dropped my tent in a patch of scrub, well hidden, on the river bank. The humidity here was higher than I’ve experienced to date on this trip; the wind dropped to nothing overnight, by morning my tent was dripping with condensation.. frozen on the fly.
Morning… the tiny community of Oruk-Tam about 95km from Naryn.
Oruk-Tam
I left the dirt road here and climbed steeply away from the valley…
… on a barely there track.
Another tiny outpost…
The afternoon looked very much like this; kilometre after kilometre of empty double track, steadily climbing through the valley, with a light wind at my back.
Water was never an issue on this stretch, it’s everywhere…
The weather closed in as the afternoon wore on, with rumbles of thunder all around. I was enjoying the rapidly intensifying tailwind as the increasingly violent storm chased me up the valley. Wondering how far I could push my luck before needing to seek shelter, the sight of huge plumes of spray being whipped up off the river by the wind and the first hail stones bouncing off my helmet convinced me I really ought to think about finding somewhere to stop…
Serendipitously, with the valley ahead looking desperately exposed, a spot with a little shelter presented itself almost immediately. I threw my tent up, staked down hard, just in time, and was able to enjoy the storm with a packet of biscuits from inside my sleeping bag.
The light as the storm moved away was wonderful.
Views from the dinner table (rock). It occurred to me while sitting here that the nearest town of any consequence was roughly 100miles away in either direction. It’s a good feeling.
Last light.
Morning, and a brew on… Not as cold as I expected. Below freezing but only by a few degrees.
Another day of climbing on a mixture of stony track…
..and grassy double-track..
..punctuated by countless river crossings. Most were rideable given the time of year, only a couple necessitating a wade. Waterproof boots help. I imagine it would be a much wetter story earlier in the summer as the snowpack melts.
Having barely seen a soul for a couple of days I bumped into this gang herding an enormous flock of sheep back down the valley. As always they were great, we shared some biscuits from my stash before they had to race off after the sheep.
A lonely sign, any markings it may once have carried long lost to the elements… no idea what it’s doing out here.
Views from the trail. I love how horses are an integral part of the landscape here… It’s a lonely stretch and I might have discovered that the horses don’t really pay too much attention to a greeting from a passing cyclist, no matter how friendly or verbose. They don’t really seem to care too much about the weather forecast either…
Lone horseman… he was checking his flock across the valley with a well-worn old pair of binoculars. Really cool old ex-Soviet military ones perhaps…
Still climbing… the afternoon tailwinds were predictable, and most welcome.
Gradients during the first 3 days for the most part were only around 1%-10%, albeit with some significantly steeper sections. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride.
Trails like these…I took too many pictures really; it’s one of those stretches that overwhelms at almost every turn and crest.
The last 20km or so of the climb to the Arabel Pass become progressively steeper. I pitched up early on day 3, around 3pm and at an altitude of around 3700m, deciding to leave the steepest part of the pass for the morning, with fresh legs, in return for having time for a brew and the opportunity to rinse some rancid socks in the river.
Every camp spot on this journey has been sublime, but I think this was one of the best.
I made dinner early.. again late afternoon brought gale force winds and increasingly threatening clouds… by 6pm the first drops were falling, and by 7pm the weather was wild. It poured with rain until around midnight, at which point the skies cleared, the moon came out and temperatures plummeted. Bike and tent were blocks of ice by morning.
Morning…
I was looking forward to the last part of the climb… with much of my food eaten, and just a litre of water on board my bike felt lighter than it has done for a long time.
It’s a steep climb, reaching gradients of around 17%, to the pass at a shade under 4000m.
Views while climbing
The Arabel Plateau… it’s an austere, windswept place.
A summer residence, locked up for the winter, its occupants and animals having relocated to lower pastures.
Bicycle portrait…
Descending from the plateau the track intersects a wide, well maintained gravel road… I had a choice here, I could continue east albeit with some 15km of off-trail hiking/wet bog-trotting before descending eventually in a day or so to near Karakol.. or, I could turn left (north) for a 60km descent to the shores of Issyk-Kul . Given all the recent wet weather, and the storm that was rapidly catching up with me, and the time lost in Naryn, I didn’t really fancy the former…. tired body also had a say, and I confess the allure of an icrecream and a hot shower was also a powerful one. As an aside a tourist I was chatting to in Naryn said “what about personal hygiene, presumably you wash in the rivers….?”.. hahahaha. Once upon a time, many years ago I set out on a bike trip with such good intentions but soon learned that it’s best just to go feral.
It was a terrific descent, losing more than 2000m of elevation. The road was very quiet bar a couple of heavy truck convoys grinding their way up – there is a goldmine somewhere in the mountains that, judging by the nature of the transport, consumes vast quantities of fuel oil. The drivers were courteous and the recent rains meant no dust. Happy days.

As I write I’m having a day off in the village of Barskoon, on the south shore of Issyk-Kul, where the owner of the little family guesthouse I stopped at has just brought me an armful of apples and pears from the garden. Issyk-Kul is the 8th deepest lake in the world, and at 182km x 60km, the second largest mountain lake. With no outflow its waters are saline, and hence rarely freeze despite the severe winters. I have a few days in hand before I ‘must’ arrive back in Bishkek and have been feeling somewhat conflicted. I could loop back up into the mountains for a couple of days on my way back west, or I could enjoy an easy(ish) trundle along the lake shore instead. The south shore is, apparently, much quieter and less developed than the north with a number of small villages, and even beaches. The high mountains are wonderful, however I must admit the idea of an icrecream every so often appeals, as does the idea of camping on a quiet beach somewhere should the opportunity arise… I will have a look at the satellite images later. I would also be happy to have a few days in hand in Bishkek to try and get to grips with the challenge of street photography in that concrete environment, and I also have a couple of people to catch up with. Stay tuned…

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