Kyrgyzstan (3)

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  Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
Saturday, September 10, 2005

Reading: Our Man In Havana, Graham Greene
Listending to Matallica, Musicbek's Bazaar Mix

Greetings from London after a wonderful summer in Central Asia. This is also my first blog written at an internet cafe so please excuse the lack of polish. But there is some Polish!

People have requested more photos so here you go.

Down & Out in Susamyr

One of the goals of getting back to Kyrgyzstan was to get into the mountains and do some exercise

An afternoon rest near a glacier

. With that said, I am sadly out of shape and a poor technical climber worthy of nothing more than ridicule.

For one trip, I hooked up with an old acquaintance (John Atwood) and new friend (Mike) to attempt to climb over the Ala-Archa pass. Ala-Archa is a beautiful valley just outside of Bishkek it leads up to a pass (3,800m) then down to the back-country valley of Susamyr (best remembered as the Kumuz-acid-test valley from a previous blog). John, Mike and I decided to start in Susamyr and walk back to Bishkek. The attempt was an abject failure followed by an unceremonious retreat.

At the base of the pass, the weather conspired against us to produce high winds and lots of snow. The snow made an igloo out of our tent overnight and, when two of us got out of it to remove the snow, it collapsed on Mike. On that note, we deicided to backtrack to Susamyr and catch a ride back to Bishkek.

Easier said than done.

After a very long day climbing down the valley to a little used dirt road, we began to realize that we had about a 50km hike to the nearest village

Grandpa entices child to walk with a pack of cigs

. I had developed bad blisters (Vedran: I think those boots I bought in Slovenia were a 1/2 size too big) and walking was really painful. Needless to say, I focused all my creative juices on finding some form of conveyance which would get me off my feet. Unfortunately, we were on a trek in a 19th century pastoral setting.

The Kyrgyz shepards were still in Jailoo mode and we made attempts to convince them to let us rent horses. No deal, the horses were being fattened for the fast approaching winter. 'Ok, if not 3 horses, how about one for the bags?' They were not receptive and we moved on to the next Yurt and so on. Finally, we saw motorbike with side car. Praise be to the internal combustion engine and $3 a gallon! Not so fast, these guys were headed up the river to fish and wanted the equivalent of the day's catch- $30- to take one of us to the town. No deal, we had out dignity and moved on.

Finally, we found a herdsman who had a cart and agreed to take us to a neighbor with a car. And, away we went on a jerry-rigged horse-drawn cart. Heaven. At least for 10km. The driver was in the hills and god only knows when he would come back. So, it was back to the boots for us. Finally, about 10km from the market town of Tunuk (by now it had developed in my mind into a cross between Las Vegas and Luke Skywalker's Mos Eisley) we cut off another cart and took it into town.

Ah Tunuk, you sweet lady of Susamyr! It was actually a hole but still the best thing we had seen in 5 days.

After an absolutely crap day, physically shattered, with blisters that made me less than fun to be near, we finally caught a break

Horse at Son Kul

. As soon as we rolled into town, we stopped a car with Bishkek plates. The driver was dropping off his kids and agreed to take us to Bishkek in his nice Audi for as better than reasonable price. We piled into the car and he slapped in a heavy metal tape for the ride home. I'm not really a fan of the genre but it fit the bill. We were home in record time.


The Solidarity Boat Ride

From one experience to the next. John had the great idea of renting a sail boat on lake Issyk Kul (160km long ringed by snow capped mountains) for a couple of days. I had never seen a boat on the lake but threw my lot in. Nothing like an adventure I guess.

On one end of the lake is the town of Balykchy. Possibly one of my least favorite towns in the country. Kyrgyzstan's windy city, Balykchy means 'fish' in the local language. It Soviet legacy left it with a closed auto parts factory, dead fishing industry and a prison (still open for business). To make matters worse, life should not exist in Balykchy. Its got no water and the wind ALWAYS blows- meaning little plant life and misshapen trees

Horse cart to Tunuk

. A pile of rocks. All respect for my friend Jill who spent 2 years there as a Peace Corps volunteer.

Because of the constant wind and warm clime, the Soviets apparently did some Olympic sailing practice there (they also tested torpedoes on the lake). John found our captain, a 53 year old, chain-smoking sea-dog who played the part of weather-beaten captain like an Oscar winner: Victor Isanovich.

We shoved off in a less than sea-worthy vessel for a three day cruise around part of the lake. One of our party was an experienced sailor and was non-too-pleased with the arrangement. As an example, when we asked about life preservers, Victor Isanovich did the customary: 'I've been sailing for 25 years and have never sunk.' When we insisted, he sent his wife to collect one life preserver.

I knew that fate was on our side when I discovered the boat was built in Gdansk (Poland), the home of Lech Walesa's Solidarity movement in the early 1980s. As it was the 25th anniversary of the movement's founding- and a milestone in the collapse of the Eastern Block and Soviet Union, I felt safe. Dreams of trade unionists in the Lenin Ship Yards..

Horses near a pass

.

The first two days were great. The weather was nice and we had a great time swimming and enjoying one of the nicest lakes in the world.

Then we had to return to Balykchy. What should have been a 5 hour trip in ok weather turned into an 11 hour Odyssey fighting a brutal headwind. I learned what 'gale-force' was. About mid-day, after forward progress of only kilometers, things began looking desperate when Victor Isanovich (renamed Victor 'son-of-a-bitch' by our companion sailor) could no longer light his cigarettes end-to-end. But, I had the faith of thousands of Polish workers and good old Victor. We would make it but it would suck: drenched and cold to the bone with sores and bruises to come from the rough ride. When we arrived, we were greeted by his wife, friends, shots of mandatory vodka and a hot banya (Russian sauna)

Unfortunately for me, I scheduled my good-bye party for that evening in Bishkek. I left my friends in the warm embrace of the banya to go get a taxi to the capital. I finally arrived in Bishkek an hour late to my own party to find most of my friends forgivingly waiting for me in the courtyard of my apartment block.

Sorry again guys.



Next stops include Turkey and Greece.

Post your own travel photos for friends and family More Pictures

Issyk Kul from the north side	Issyk Kul view from the good ship lollipop	Lake Kol Ukok	Lake Son Kul at sunset
Motorbike in Susamyr	Peace on Earth is in my hands	Sex sells...even in a dairy culture	Sunset on Son Kul
The Matallica taxi	Top of the pass

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