So far I have spent two weeks in Kyrgyzstan and nearly all
of that time I’ve been in Bishkek. I’ve
been itching to get the heck out of dodge and see something, and this weekend
we did. About ten of us from the London
School in Bishkek went to Issyk-Kul on the excursion organized by the
school.
We went to see more of
Kyrgyzstan and learn about the culture here, but for me what stood out was the
natural rugged beauty of the place.
We did the most strenuous hike I’ve ever done in my
life. Our Kyrgyz guide said he thought
we hiked up about 2000 m/6200ft elevation, but he said he isn’t sure of the
distance…he doesn’t need to be. He lives
here. It’s everyday business to
him. To me, however, coming from my East
Texas home at 300ft. above sea level, it’s a different story. We started at the flat-ish part of the
picture below and reached some point a little farther up than what this
shows. See that little white speck to
the middle-right of the picture? That’s
only part way up. We started at nine and
had lunch a little after that white speck (which is someone’s house by the
way). They weren’t home. But their dog and their goats were.
We hiked further and further and the slope grew steeper and
steeper.
There was no trail after a
while, just prickly grass, lichen speckled rocks, and thin, ever colder
air.
Every step was a more or less a
chore after a while.
Breathing was the
main task.
You’d think you were about to
keel over, you’d stop, sit and breath, then get up and start moving again…only
to find that after ten or fifteen feet you thought you were going to die
again.
It was a fight with the
wind.
It was glorious.
Our patient guide must have thought we were a
bunch of babies because he looked like he was on a stroll in the park, serene,
well-paced, hands balanced as he clasped them behind his back.
We never did make it to our destination—a lake far, far up
in the mountains. We were straggled out
on the mountainside like a herd of lost sheep.
Finally, as I was trying to catch up with a small group ahead of me and
figuring that it wasn’t long until I absolutely had to turn around, we reached
the end of it. Peak folded on peak above us.
The icy rain drops that had been coming in random showers turned to
freezing rain. I saw the group ahead turn and knew that we weren’t going to see the
lake after all. It was really like that moment in the Lord of the Rings movie
where the fellowship is trying to go around the mountain instead of going into
Moria and they are defeated by the snow storm.
Except that as you can see, there was much less snow. I joined them under a rock for shelter for a
few minutes and we huddled there, not with a sense of defeat, but of
exhilaration. I was thrilled with the
whole thing.
I was even more thrilled when began our descent and I
discovered within twenty feet that my body had lightened drastically. Suddenly there were no bricks on my chest and
my lungs were no longer straining like a sailboat in a gale. Oxygen really is a wonderful thing.
We practically galloped down the mountain, somewhat out of
sheer energy and somewhat out of necessity due to the precipitousness of
situation…you couldn’t help it really.
That whole mountain whipped my butt.
But it was really the best experience.
And as we hiked back down in the rich afternoon light, the mountain
seemed to light up in colors I had never noticed before. Scarlet and rose and wintergreen, ochre and
coal and yellow all came clear out of the drab brown and gray.
It was 6pm when we went back in the van over another ridge
of mountains to the lake, where were were staying in a private lake house.
It was a really simple, spacious brick house
with two stories and lots of little rooms with beds.
This picture is not where we stayed; it’s
the neighbors.
But I have to admit that
I came to Kyrgyzstan partially out of curiosity about yurts, so here they
are.
Beach yurts.
Lake Issyk-Kul is a national tourist destination because it
is beautiful, huge, and clean.
There are
hot springs around it and it doesn’t freeze in the winter because it is a salt
lake.
They say it’s a “warm” lake but
that is not the adjective I would use to describe it.
I would say, however, that in the same day I
had the best hike of my life I also had the best (and maybe shortest!) swim of
my life.
It was at sunset, and the clear
aqua water was splashed with vibrant rose from the sun slipping down.
The gentle waves brought silt up on the
shore, carrying pebbles in hundreds of tiny varieties.
The water was a sweet and perfect relief to our
aching muscles.
I don’t have a picture
as the sun was going down but I can tell you it was lovely.
I was convinced that those high heaps far
across the water were clouds, but I was proven wrong.
They were mountains.
Mountains shrouded in haze and capped in
cloud.
I looked out the window this
morning and realized that there are and plenty of mountains and plenty of lakes
in the world but this one at this moment appears the most magical to me.
I’m not sure how I ever got here but my eyes
are wide open and I’m thoroughly enjoying it.
Post Script: I wrote this Sunday night and then crashed. Now most of us are recovering more or less from some kind of attack on our intestines. I agree with Issyk-Kul but I'm not convinced that Issyk-Kul agrees with me. But until next time...
