TAJIKISTAN and the start of The Pamirs!!!

We stayed in Sary-Tash for our final night in Kyrgysztan. To our pleasant surprise Leonie and Peter, a lovely Dutch couple who are traveling by motorbike and who we met briefly on the road from Song-Kol Lake, arrived at our guesthouse late in the afternoon and we spent a pleasant evening with them over dinner in our guesthouse.

Matching jackets!!

The next morning wasn’t a particularly early start, a mistake perhaps in light of what lay ahead – a significant climb up to the Tajik border post. 

From there we would wind our way down to Karakol, climb back up to complete what is the highest peak of the Pamir, before finally reaching Murghab. We were banking on reaching Murghab in 3 days where we would enjoy a rest day before continuing on down towards the Wakhan valley.

It would end up being a gruelling three days….

Day 1: Sary-Tash to Tajik border post

Distance: 56.3km / Ride Time: 5:35

A cruel headwind greeted us as we set out that morning and it got colder as we gradually climbed up.


By lunchtime we had left the asphalt behind us and had already been forced to push the tandem barefoot through a river due to a collapsed bridge.

The prospect of reaching country no.7 that evening was keeping us both happy however and the scenery was pretty nice too. 


We reached the Kyrgyz border post where a nice guard stamps us out, checks we’re OK with the oncoming altitude and reminds us to look out for the famous Marco Polo sheep. We’ll miss this kind of friendliness – bye bye Kyrgyzstan!


A 20km stretch of no mans land was now ahead of us before we would reach Tajikistan. 

Just before the beginning of the pass proper we meet a bunch of cyclists coming the other way who warn us of a muddy and snowy climb.

As it happened, more from luck than good planning, we reach the top late in the afternoon when most of the mud had dried in the sun. Nevertheless it was a hard climb complete with some stiff switchback at the end and we were greeted by a howling wind at the top. A weather front closed in behind us and we wouldn’t be surprised if it had snowed again on that side of the pass that night.


We reach the Tajik post at 6pm (apparently it is open 24 hours) and are away again by 6:15. Not wanting to go much further, we set up camp just a few kilometres down from the border post, managing to hide from most of the wind by pitching our tent in a sheltered dip. It’s pretty desolate and dessert like up here and we huddle together in the tent while a thin layer of sand settles on our sleeping bag. 

Day 2: Tajik border to 20km beyond Karakol

Distance: 79km / Ride Time: 4:57

An early and very cold start – our water bottles were half frozen! We shake the sand out of everything before packing up and we’re soon back on the road which turns back into asphalt. 


A few minor climbs but the overall outlook is downhill. After the last pass we catch our first glimpses of Karakol Lake and can spot the small town perched on the shore on the opposite side. Its very beautiful and we spend some time lapping up the view. 


We meet a friendly Russian cyclist who hands over a sticker of his own design for our bike. He points out Paddy’s Robbie Keene sticker and asks why I don’t have one of Gareth Bale! Wales’ recent success in the football has certainly put my little country on the international map! 


We stop at a friendly homestay for lunch who also exchange the remainder of our Kyrgyz com into Tajik somoni, and then battle with a very strong side wind as we skirt around the lake. 

We reach the valley on the far side and manage a few more kilometres of climbing before finding a suitable spot to shelter from the wind again. It’s a bit early but I’m really not feeling the best and I’m forced to lie in the tent while paddy cooks dinner. The longer I lie there the worse I feel. Paddy also starts to feel pretty rough at this point too. It’s definitely a stomach bug but I also wonder if the altitude is also having an effect. We’re at around 4200, probably the highest we’ve camped…

Day 3: Final stretch to Murghab

Distance: 105km / Ride Time: 6:22

After a frustratingly sleepless night we are both feeling in tatters the next morning. I’m marginally better than Paddy so pack up the tent while he slumps in a chair. It’s incredibly dusty and all our stuff is covered in the same grey filth.

We get on the bike without cooking breakfast, neither of us can stomach eating. 

We’re both desperate to reach Murghab but with 105km and a very tough climb ahead, neither of us could see how we were going to make it. All we wanted was a bed!!


Fortunately as soon as we’re on the bike we both start to feel a little better. It’s a stunning morning, the road is good and we cycle through a vast open valley, the morning sun pouring down on a beautiful mountain range to our left. 

Here we stock up on water and pass some abandoned farm buildings and houses. A short while later the road, to our dismay, turns back into a stony, sandy, washboard mess. It’s very hard going, and slow, and we’re both too tired and washed out to keep up a positive attitude. 

My ankle around my achilles has started to really ache and Paddy’s shoulders are painful too.


By 12:30 we’ve reached the bottom of the pass which starts with a stiff climb which we struggle up at 3km an hour. We’re feeling too rotten to take in much of the view and as we reach the final climb we both end up cursing at this poor German guy who is taking lots of photos of us from his jeep as we struggle pass. 

Despite having only eaten 2 iced buns and a handful of nuts each somehow we manage to reach the top by 2pm.

We still had 80km to Murghab, mostly down and flat, but we were both wrecked. Near the top of the other side we’re greeted by a cheery group of cyclists. With the news that the road would soon turn back into asphalt we spur ourselves on.


At 3pm I decide I can stomach a cheese sandwich so we stop and I convince Paddy to have some too.

We both feel much better for eating and thankfully the remainder of the journey is all paved if a bit bumpy in places. It’s pretty flat with a slight incline in our favour – exactly the kind of road where the tandem can really eat up miles and despite a strong headwind, with great effort, we manage to maintain a steady 25-27km for a good 90 minutes.

By 6pm we’re having to stop every 15 minutes. Our bodies are giving up on us. I pat Paddy’s back and wave the swarms of mosquitos away as he leans over his handlebars with a horrible headache. 

At each stop we lie on the hot Tarmac getting ready for the next leg.


We finally roll into Murghab at 7.30pm and luckily meet two English cyclist who tell us about an affordable homestay. It’s a lovely place and we manage to bag their old room for just 30s each.

After a home cooked meal and a hot shower we’re both feeling very content and are super glad that we were able to make it to a bed! Bring on that lie in!

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A Day Horsing Around 

Festival going has always been a big part of our summer holidaying and with news from friends back home of their 2016 festival plans, we admit, we were feeling a little nostalgic. We were really glad therefore to have made it to our own little Kyrgyz mountain festival.


After a cold night, we wake to find the sun beating down on our tent. We lie there for a while comfortably listening to the sounds of people bustling past us, children laughing and food being prepared – in the background we recognise the familiar low hum of a generator.


Crawling out of our tent we find children running around in traditional costumes under a cloudless sky and adults blowing up balloons to decorate some temporary red tents which have appeared on the edge of the field.


The backdrop is spectacular and we cook breakfast before getting ready to enjoy the day’s events which promised to include live performances, yurt building and traditional horse games.


Paddy’s hopes for a beer tent were soon dashed but in all other respects it seemed we had found our very own ‘party in a field’.

By 10pm lots of locals had started to arrive by both horse and car.
Having gone back to fetch the sunscreen from the tent I find Paddy sitting cross legged on a large traditional shashlik rug surrounded by 7 or 8 local women. He’s encouraged to hold each of their children in turn.



The Belgian guys who we had met the previous night were also there and at about 11am a large party of other tourists from Osh also arrived. The majority of people there were locals though.


After a few opening speeches the festival kicks off in earnest with a couple of dance performances by local girls all proudly wearing their traditional outfits.


Next a mixed gender professional music group led by a Manasachi who performs excerpts of the famous Manas epoch.


After the performances we are all told to turn around to face the mountain behind where a bizzare staging of what the announcer calls ‘the traditional nomad movement’ is taking place.
This involved around 40 people processing across the grassy slopes down towards a semi-constructed yurt. Many of them are on horseback while others are leading heavily laden donkeys and yaks. There is also a camel – who, in the middle of the procession, spooked by something, causes havoc by running back up the mountain leaving a trail of objects in its wake.


The yurt building that followed was great fun however and it was interesting to see how the whole thing is constructed. Paddy has sworn he is going to build one when we get back home.

Once the wooden trellis walls are up the roof goes up by attaching about 60 curved beams to the circular tunduk which acts as the kind of ‘key stone’ to the whole structure.


The shape of the tunduk is represented in the Kyrgyz flag.


Once the wooden beams are tied together with rope and long belts of brightly coloured felt ribbon, the thick, sheep’s wool covers get wrapped around the exterior – first the walls and then the roof. Long ropes keep it all in place.


A team of six to eight skilled men can erect one of these things in around 60-90 minutes.


After a spectacular lunch we’re back in the field ready for the games to start. The first is a good ol’ fashion session of ‘rope pulling’ or as we know it – ‘tug of war’.


We tourists are asked if we’d like to form a team against some locals. Paddy gets involved in the men’s team and I have a go in the woman’s round.



Despite our best efforts we both find ourselves on the losing side – perhaps this says something about our scrawny build! I think we should stick to long distant cycling…

After the rope pulling each village nominates a man to represent them in a one on one tournament called yak pulling. Sadly the game doesn’t involve a yak. Instead the two men – attached by a rope pulled through their legs and around their necks – slowly crawl forwards attempting to pull their opponent over the centre line. Not surprisingly, none of the international guests were willing to put themselves forward for this game…


After yak pulling we were treated to a short stint of horseback wrestling followed by ‘coin picking’ where each opponent has a go at bending down from their horse to pick up as many coins from the ground as they can. They do this while the horse is cantering at top speed; it’s pretty crazy!



Nora our Dutch friend who is travelling across Asia on her motorcycle bravely took a turn at the coin picking. Unfortunately she didn’t manage to get any but she was pretty close and we were all very impressed with her brave attempt.

The day finished with the exhilarating traditional field game of Ulak Tartysh. The only way I can describe Ulak is by comparing it to a game of rugby union. But all the men are on horses and instead of playing with a ball they play with the beheaded carcass of a goat instead!

The aim of the game is to either pick up the carcass from the ground or wrestle it from your opponent before riding full pelt towards your goal ring, where the animal is dropped, earning a point for you team.


As you can imagine, it’s carnage, BUT incredibly entertaining to watch!

The weather stayed warm and dry the whole day and all in all, it was a very fitting end to our time in Kyrgyzstan. 

It’s now time to head south, up and over the Tajik mountains. The Pamirs await!

Hitch Hiking to a festival 

The visa applications and the ride south from Bishkek via Song-Kol lake had both eaten into our schedule more than we expected so we were now planning to cross the Tajik border a week later. 

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem for most countries but Tajikistan and Uzbekistan – our next two destinations – require you to put a specific date of entry and exit on your visa. On top of this, we needed to leave enough time to apply for the dreaded Turkmenistan visa in Dushanbe…
We were still OK on time as we had a 45 day visa for Tajikistan and there was no point stressing. In Osh we met a couple of other cyclists who had completed the Pamir, including the Wakhan valley, in around 22-24 days.

Our route to the border crossing would see us backtrack along the M41 back up to Sary-Tash where we had stopped for a night coming over the Irkeshtam pass from China 40 days previously.

We had heard that an annual horse festival was taking place over the weekend somewhere in the region so we were keen to see if we could fit this in on our way through. After visiting the website we discover it’s directly on our route towards the Tajik border, 5km from Gulcho. 

We leave Osh on the Friday morning having spent Thursday cleaning the bike, stocking up on supplies and catching up with news back home. 

We were keen to get to the horse games site that evening so we didn’t miss any of the festivities the next morning but the ride involved a long gradual incline, plus a hard climb over the Chyrchyk Pass. This meant we needed to hitch a ride. 

We cycle 15km out of Osh and then pull up on a long straight section. Traffic is a bit on the slim side and all the vehicles which could take the tandem seem to be turning off or stopping just beyond where we’re stopped. 

After an hour we admit defeat and get back on the bike and cycle another 10km up the road. We stop and make lunch and then try again. A nice chap and his little boy stop and we lift the tandem fully loaded into the back of his pick-up truck. He’s only going to the next village 13km but it still helps a lot. 

Traffic is even slimmer here but after a few tries we managed to hail down a second ride and luckily this guy is going all the way past the turning to the festival. 

It’s 4pm and we still have 15km to cycle up a steep track to get to the festival site. It’s a very beautiful setting and we pass many yurts on our way as we follow a small river up stream winding our way through the valley. By 5pm we’ve done 4.5km and we’re both starting to feel tired and hungry. Maybe we won’t make it up there before evening after all…

Luckily for us an empty pick-up truck trundles pass and we manage to steal a ride for the next 7km. After this the track gets VERY steep and the last kilometre is impossible for us to ride so we have to push. 

Sweaty and breathless we push the tandem over the last ridge and the valley starts to open out. Paddy climbs up a green slope to check we’re in the right place and comes back accompanied by two adolescent boys. They help us push the bike up the last 500m and we find ourselves on a grassy plain, surrounded by pine wooded hills dotted with clusters of yurts. 


We are greeted by the festival organisers who show us where we can pitch our tent. A number of happy helpers arrive and assist with our set up before getting distracted by the helinox chairs…



Later, some guys from Belgium who have hiked up here come over to say hello and we sit chatting with them while cooking dinner. 

Happy to hear that the festival wouldn’t be kicking off until 10am we snuggle down and look forward to a lie in.

Bumpy bumpy bumpy! Onwards through Kazarman, up to the Kaldama Pass

Day 3: 52km

We leave our amazing mountain top view and complete the final 3km to the top of the pass. 

We’re really running low on water and there is no sign of any streams but thankfully there is a collection of yurts at the top , and this lovely family replenish four of our bottles. 

We spend some time with them before heading over the top and back down to the next valley.



The rest of the day is very up and down and we make slow progress. 

We meet more motorcyclists on the road and stop to chat for a while. 

After 5 and a half hours in the saddle we stop and camp in a meadow just outside the small village of Dodomol.

Day 4: 40km

If possible, the road got worse today. After a short climb we find ourselves losing a lot of height once again until we reach this flat stretch of road leading to the large town of Kazarman. 

The washboards are relentless and we manage an average speed of just 8.6km/h.


We’re both a bit worn out so decide to give ourselves a rest and find a nice home stay for the night. It’s the first shower we’ve had in 7 days! Bliss!

Kazarman’s centre isn’t the most picturesque! The streets are lined with these rather depressing looking soviet apartment blocks. That orange stuff is peeling insulation… Asbestos perhaps?!


The cultural centre with its very Soviet style sculpture

The people are really friendly though and it’s a great place to stock up on food, snacks and water.

Day 5: 44.5km

Day 5 saw us start to tackle the tallest (but final) mountain road – the Kaldama Pass. 

It’s incredibly hot and we spend a long time filtering 9L water from a muddy stream. 

We keep climbing through the green hilly landscape. The traffic isn’t too bad but the road is still frustratingly slow.

We drop down to a big river before camping next to some yurts. We’ll have a hard climb tomorrow morning but should complete the pass before lunch.

Day 6: 79.2km

We manage an early start and The War on Drugs, Radiohead and Paul Simon blast out of our speaker helping us to keep climbing. 

By lunch time we have reached the top!


It’s a bumpy trip down and gets hotter and hotter as we lose height. 

Luckily there are plenty of springs to collect water.

After eight days on the gravel road we’re delighted to find ourselves back on Tarmac!!!


Our seventh and last day would see us cycle the remaining 43km to Jalal-Abad, finally completing our big loop of Kyrgyzstan. 

From there we cheated a bit, hailed down a passing truck and hitched back to Osh. 🙂 

Applying for your Uzbekistan visa in Bishkek

June 2016

The Uzbekistan visa office in Bishkek is infamous for its scary totalitarian staff, ludicrous appointment system and administrative nightmares but it’s all very doable if you get organised. 

Most EU nationalities do not require a letter of invitation (Ireland does) which can be obtained through a number of Uzbek agencies. However, a lot of travellers applying in Bishkek end up paying for an LOI anyway ($30-60 depending on the agent) as it makes the visa appointment process a lot less arduous. 

Our LOIs were organised by Luxury Asia Travel in Tashkent who were really great to deal with and even filled out the online application forms for us and sent them as PDFs for us to simply print off. The LOIs took about 6 working days to get and only cost 20$ each but we also have to stay at one of the agencies associated hotels for a night during our stay in the country. 

Caravansistan quoted around 60$ just for the LOI… 

The Uzbek embassy has very recently (June 2016) changed address and it is now in a gated commune next to the right of the new Oxford International School on Manas Avenue. 


If you have an LOI we would advise calling the day before to ‘arrange’ an appointment. We just turned up and were told to call between 4-5pm to make an appointment.  

Everyone gets told to come at 10am and there was a fairly big group of travellers already waiting at the commune gate when we arrived at 9:50. So either arrive early and wait or don’t bother turning up until 11am. The guard on the gate speaks no English and operates an irregular 1 in 1 out system. 

You need to have 1 passport photo, a copy of your application form completed online and printed off, your LOI document and photocopies of your passport page and Kyrgyz entry stamp. 

The visa staff are not the friendliest but speak good English. After waiting for an hour and a half we were permitted into the embassy and handed over our paperwork. 

We were told we needed to make payment at the nearest KiCB bank situated here (a 10 min cycle or fair walk away):


Here is the address if you decide to take a taxi.


The bank closes for lunch between 12-1 and annoyingly the embassy closes 1-2pm. We turned up at 12:05 but Paddy managed to charm the ladies there into letting him in, they even let him off on the transaction commission fee!! 
It was all pretty straight forward after paying the bank fee and we walked away with out 30 day visa before lunch.

Three cyclists, three wheels

So we had finally completed all our visa admin and now it was time to get back on the bike. 

It felt strange, almost like we were starting a completely new trip. What with us being able to closely follow the political turmoil back home, catching up with lots of friends and family over Skype and not having to pack a pannier or sleep in a tent for two weeks it definitely felt weird to be getting back on the bike.  

We desperately needed to drag ourselves back to a travelling mentality again so we said our goodbyes to Andrey and set off. 

We were soon back in the cycle touring headspace thanks to our back tire which burst just as we were leaving the city. A very similar thing had happened in northern Myanmar – the tire just wears away at the wheel rim… Maybe not even the ‘bomb proof’ schwalbe tires can cope with our heavily loaded back wheel.

We were extremely fortunate that this happened just outside Bishkek because although we had a foldable spare with us it was now obvious that this was turning into a continuous problem for us.

Bishkek is probably one of the few places in the whole of Central Asia where we could easily get another schwalbe spare, in fact we knew of a guy called Nathan who runs a hostel especially for cycle tourers in the city and he keeps spare schwalbes for tourers in need! 

We debate for a long time about how many we should buy from Nathan. We decide it’s a good idea to stock up while we have the chance so we buy two. Nathan only has the Marathon Plus type so we fold away our spare Marathon Mondial, get a new one on the back wheel and manage to strap the second spare to the back. 

While fitting the new tire we ask Nathan if he knew of any easy way of helping the tyre ‘fit’ properly around the rim. Schwalbe tires have a useful reflective strip which acts as a parallel spacer and we think one reason for the first set of tyres failing was that the first time we fitted them they weren’t parallel ending up with the rim pinching the tyre in the wrong place.

After much stretching, pumping and deflating Nathan told us to lube the edge of the tire with washing up liquid while fitting it – it really works!

Back on the road out of Bishkek we still find it a little hard to get back into the cycling… It’s hot (very hot), our muscles have lost all their strength, and our bums have relapsed back to a ‘sitting watching football, drinking beer’ state.

From the side of the road a figure runs out from the shade of the trees and hails us down. We stop and shake hands with Ed, another cycle tourer from the UK who’s heading in the same direction as us. 

If you think we’re slightly cooky cycling on a tandem, our set up is nothing to Ed’s. He is 18 months into a round the world trip and he’s doing it all on a unicycle


At the age of 19 he set off from his home in Somerset to embark on this incredible journey. Having seen out the winter in Bishkek he is now back on the road heading towards China. He hopes to complete the journey in 3 years. 

What’s most impressive is his average speed and distance covered each day which, are not too far off our own and because he only has one gear he’s much faster than us up the hills. We sped past him on the downs though. 🙂 


Ed is a bit of a celebrity in the cycle touring world so it was great to meet him in person; plus watching him take off and speed down the road after a break never gets old. 


Ed is a very chilled and unassuming guy and it was great spending time with him. 


We made some good camps with him and naturally the three of us were a slightly farcical sight while riding along. There can’t be many times you see three people cycling passed with only three wheels between them.


It’s very funny watching people’s reactions when they spot Ed speeding along on his single wheeled machine!


The three of us worked our way east towards Issyk Kul lake. At Kok-Moynok Bir we parted ways, Paddy and I turning south towards Kochkor while Ed carried east to Karakol where he’ll stop before heading towards the Kazakh border.


The cycle to Kochkor was on a good road but involved a hard climb through some very changeable weather, first baking sunshine and then hailing thunder storms. Near the top, I suddenly come over really feverish. My whole body aches and I can’t stop shaking, it’s a bit weird but we manage to reach the summit and Paddy helps me into my thermals before we freewheel down towards a suitable lunch stop overlooking Orto-Tokoy reservoir.

I collapse into a chair with a terrible headache and wait for the paracetamol and ibuprofen to kick in. 

Once I’ve eaten and the drugs have worked some of their magic I feel a bit better and we manage to complete the last 20km to Kochkor where we check-in to the first hostel we find. I sleep for a good 13 hours and by morning feel ok again. Even so, we decide to take a rest day in Kochkor where normally there isn’t much to see, but by chance it was a Saturday which gave us the opportunity to wonder down to the weekly animal market.


It was well worth the visit and it was fun watching the women and men dragging their new purchases across the yard towards their cars.


We met the biggest sheep we’ve ever seen – a woolly grey beast weighing 36kg who towered over the other sheep and liked carrying seven year old children on its back.


On our way out we spotted a group of guys loading three grown, albeit normal sized, sheep into the boot of their Lada car… Here they are closing it up.


I managed to walk away carrying a little creature too, this one was unintentional and even more unwelcome however.


It’s never nice to find a tick clinging tightly onto your right earlobe… 

When we get back to the hostel Paddy expertly removes it with tweezers and I watch it crawl around on top of our lunchbox lid for a while before stabbing it. I spend a long time merticulously combing my hair – an activity I haven’t done in about 4 months – and checking my body for any more. 

Lucky we decided to have that tick borne encephalitis jab before we left!!

An Introduction to Kyrgyzstan!

So it’s just under 2 weeks since we crossed the border into country number 6, Kyrgyzstan. 

Updating the blog has been tricky as we’ve been doing a lot of cycling and camping.

Neither of us knew much about this country before we arrived. Sandwiched between Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and China it has a population of just 6 million; a dwarf in comparison to its neighbours. 

Our plan was to head up to the capital Bishkek where we would spend a good stretch organising our visas for the next stage and then loop back down towards Tajikistan. All in all, taking around 5 weeks.

Formerly part of the Soviet Union until independance in 1991, little Kyrgyzstan is a relatively new country. 

Naturally, almost everyone speaks Russian but the Kyrgyz language remains very strong, particularly in the southern part of the country where the people are more Persian looking and Islam is practiced more widely. 

We crossed the border without knowing much of this at the time. We knew no Russian or Kyrgyz words and we even forgot to exchange our Chinese currency for Kyrgysz Som at the border… We were woefully underprepared for our venture into a new country… 

It’s 4pm before we reach the first border town. There’s a strong headwind and just passed the town we see our road snaking up a very stiff gradient – neither of us fancy doing much climbing today. 

We stop just outside the town and contemplate where we can pitch up. A girl of around 14 rushes out of the first house shakes our hands and beckons us inside. We are fed bread, jam and tea and told we can pitch our tent in the garden. We spend the rest of the afternoon playing with the many local kids who like climbing the bike and using our tent as a den. 

Before bed a dinner of fried liver, dill risotto and a kind of homemade fudge is presented to us. This is our first taste of  Kyrgyz hospitality and we feel very humbled.

The next morning we rise early and say our goodbyes to our hosts. The daughter requests we pay something towards the food. The small sum of 400 is suggested but we remind ourselves we don’t have any local currency. We readily hand over 5 USD instead which is accepted with thanks.

This first experience of Kyrgyz hospitality was tainted slightly after we reached the next town where we discovered that someone had stolen money from our bag during our stay in the house. It wasn’t a lot (the equivalent of around £40) but we felt sad it had happened after having had such a nice evening. 

Something like this was bound to happen at least once and there was no point obsessing over who we thought might have taken it…. It was a good lesson that we should never leave our handlebar bag somewhere, even for 10 minutes in the living room of a friendly local family…

Our next destination was the town of Sary-tash roughly 75km away. From there we would cycle the remaining 175km East to the southern city of Osh where we would enjoy a well deserved rest day. 

There would be some big climbs involved and we soon discover the blissfully easy gradients of Chinese roads are a thing of the past. 

Russian/Kyrgyz road builders love a good gradient. There are often signs telling you how steep the next section will be, but as Paddy and I soon discovered, these hold little relation to the true gradient. The signs almost always read either 12% or 8% and we’ve now learnt that their purpose is to simply let you know a climb is coming… a REALLY steep climb!

I was convinced that we wouldn’t find scenery and countryside nicer than we saw in China but that was before I cycled in Kyrgyzstan. 

The cycle between the border and Osh was spectacular, and for me personally, its some of the most rewarding and nourishing countryside we’ve camped in.

Stunning snowy mountain ranges which give way to the greenest, richest rolling hills you have ever seen. As we lose height, these, in turn, give way to sweeping meadows of long grass and hundreds of species of wild flowers. 

Some fields are literally stained bright red with wild poppies while others are home to a thick tapestry of yellow, pink and blue. 

We have also seen some stunning bird life including bright blue rollers (thanks D&P!), hunting kestrals, huge eagles, nesting storks, swathes of swallows 

and this little lark who sat close, serenading us one evening. 

The vast lakes and clear streams have meant we’ve rarely had to buy water and we’ve enjoyed a shower and a sunbathe in the warm evening weather. One morning I wake to find these two toady subjects making their own camp in my shoe! I contemplate keeping them as bicycle pets while one of them permits me to hold him for a while before hopping away.
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All in all its perfect camping weather!



Onto this bucolic backdrop you pass collections of traditional yurts and caravans, momentous herds of cattle, groups of men harvesting hay by hand and children racing around on their pet donkeys. 



Having travelled to find new pastures for their herds, nomad families sit on large rugs in the shade of trees next to their open backed trucks which they will later unload. 

While stopping for our afternoon siesta (it’s too hot to cycle between 2-4.30) this travelling family of three generations invite us over for lentil soup and tea. 
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Their old-school truck complete with sleeping grandmother in the back, excitable kids and practical mother figure reminded me of the Joad family in The Grapes of Wrath – the difference here of course is that they choose their travelling lifestyle.

The most important lifeline for these people are of course their horses. The Kyrgyz people are reportedly the best horesemen in the world and they have been breeding and domesticating horses here for well over 4000 years. 

Kyrgyz horses are known for their speed and endurance and are also raised for their meat. They are big beasts averaging between 13.2-14.2 hands. 

It’s pretty magical seeing a huge herd of these beautiful creatures cantering across a field in front of you as you sit eating your breakfast. 

This happend so often, our cycle between the border and Osh began to feel like we were on some fantastical journey across the lands of Rohan in The Lord of the Rings

Being here in June has meant witnessing the start of the foaling season. Not only is it nice to see these bandy legged arrivals jumping about in the sunshine, it has also meant we have been able to witness the skilful talent that is mare milking. 
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The people of Kyrgyzstan love drinking mare milk which they ferment to create a tangy, slightly alcoholic drink called Kumis. They also dry it into hard, Bon-Bon like sour snacks called kurut. Makeshift stalls are set up all along the road to sell both throughout the summer. 

We were given a 2L bottle of kumis by a friendly lady who was waiting for a bus. Put it this way, it is an acquired taste and I’m not a fan!!

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Paddy drank quite a bit that evening but this was after the bottle had been sitting in the sun all day and he had a dodgy tummy the next morning.

So our first week in Kyrgysztan has been a pastoral paradise really!

The people in Kyrgyzstan are amazingly friendly and hospitable but they also respect your personal space and privacy. They are naturally interested in you but after coming to say hello, shaking your hand and asking where you are from they leave you to get sorted, calling their children away too so you are not gawped at while trying to change out of your sweaty cycling shorts or set up camp. 

This was a nice change from China, where the people are undoubtedly friendly and generous, but at times, a bit brazen! There was often a lot of staring, fiddling with the bike and routing through our bags without permission in China! You also get photographed A LOT in China (this really started to irritate Paddy after a while) but people here generally ask permission before they snap you which is a nice change. 

Many men still wear the traditional Kolpok tall woollen hat which is often decorated with black or brown embroidery. Even this builder was wearing one while laying a wall in the beating sun! 
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The women here are beautiful and (in the South in any case) wear tied head scarfs and love wearing elaborately embroidered clothes. It’s very common to see both sexes sporting a few gold teeth.
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It took us 4 days to cycle to Osh. Here we will have a rest day before cycling north to Bishkek.