Saving The Best for Last

The most popular area of Kyrgyzstan was where we planned to spend our last week, albeit with some feelings of hesitation. We’d been hearing a lot about the famous Issyk Kul Lake region - one of the largest lakes in the world. Phrases like ‘construction central with resorts being built’, and ’very crowded’ were commonly spoken from every backpacker we talked to. But, we were also hearing impressions like ‘most beautiful part of Kyrgyzstan’ and ‘must-visit’. It was time for us to get on our five-hour bus to Bokonbayevo to build our own impressions.

Getting off the bus in Bokonbayevo brought me instant comfort. It was a familiar comfort that I hadn’t experienced in a few months. One that could be felt immediately in the instant calm of my nervous system. A feeling that my body understands before my mind. A feeling that can only emerge when close to the sea. The air here was cooler, it carried the subtle crispness of salt water everywhere it blew. It reminded me of days in SLO, and that simple fact alone made me like it here already.

The pace was slower, beach umbrellas and floaties for the lake filling the markets and tempting a passerby to forget their plans for the day and head down to the lake instead.

We were staying at the nicest family-run guesthouse. The mom ran the show here and made sure every guest felt comfortable and cared for. She was so attentive to our plans for the day and wanted to make sure we had her help if we needed anything. We told her we were looking for a ride to nearby ‘Fairy Tale Canyon’, and within a few minutes, her friend arrived and we were off to get our first look at the lake and a mini Grand Canyon.

It’s always funny to me the kind of situations we find ourselves in from wanting to save a few dollars here and there. Instead of paying extra for the driver to take us the full way into the canyon and wait for us there, we decided to instead get dropped off at the road. Flash forward to us walking 40 minutes into the canyon periodically swallowed in a tornado of dust as cars drove down the dirt road past us.

We sat here for a long time observing the canyon, lake, and visitors at the canyon

Before we tried to figure out how we’d get home, we walked down to the lake and got our first up-close view of its vastness. Similar to Lake Michigan, it seemed to stretch on forever. There was a peacefulness and stillness to it that made me want to sit and stare for hours. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky gold and giving the lake a warm glow.

It was in this moment that we realized we were yearning to stay here all night. With that, a plan had been set.. tomorrow, we’d camp at the lake.

But first, before it was completely dark, we needed to stand back on the road and hold our thumbs up in the hopes that someone would stop. In less than five minutes, we had hitched a ride back to Bokonbayevo. Sitting in the back of the car we stared out the window and watched the last of the summer evening paint the sky and lake in a hazy pink. It was a truly perfect evening.

Our next evening brought us even more of these feelings of a truly perfect day. We had spent most of the day relaxing at the lake next to our tent. The relaxing part came easy as we picked a quiet part of the lake where there was nothing but a few yurts for many miles along the lakeshore. Most people coming to this area would come for a daytime stop to visit nearby ak-sai canyon.

Around sunset time, we left our tent to walk the 20 minutes to the canyon to see it for ourselves.

On one side, we could see down to the lake stretched onwards so far that it blurred into the sky, no end in sight. We spotted the little speck of our tent in the distance in front of this vastness surrounding us. When we turned around, we faced a completely different view than the lake, but no less expansive. We saw layers upon layers of canyon ridges formed like ocean waves in the foreground of tall snow-capped mountains.

We sat and absorbed all that we were seeing, turning sides every few minutes, unsure of what to focus on because it was all so beautiful. The familiar hazy, dusty pink color filled the desert sky. Just as we were leaving, a full moon peeked out above the mountains and said goodnight to us, from another perfect day in Kyrgyzstan.

The benefits to camping here were plenty, and the previous nights’ sunset could probably make up for any downside. But, we did expect a challenge in leaving the next morning. Since we were alone camping at the lake and most everyone only comes to see the canyon for a daytime stop, we were unsure if there’d be anyone to take us out of the canyon. The nearest road was a 13 mile walk out.

Not too keen on walking 13 miles in the desert sun, we decided to sit and take our chances that someone else would be leaving and willing to take us with them. After 30 minutes of waiting and not the slightest hint of humans anywhere nearby, we began to doubt our luck.

Then, like a presidential motorcade, four Jeeps appeared along the coastline and headed out of the canyon. We tried our luck - holding our thumbs out, with the least bit of hope this coordinated group would pick us up. Just then, a couple hopped out of the first jeep and began moving all of their bags from the backseat into the trunk, and even bringing some of their gear to the other Jeeps to make space for us. As we got into the car, the couple said something in French into their walkie talkie.

They were a group of eight friends from France, celebrating someone’s 40th birthday by going off-roading for a couple weeks in Kyrgyzstan. The couple was so sweet and adventurous, and we really admired the dynamic of the group of friends. Whenever there would be a cool bird to spot, or a construction blockage on the road, the first car would let the others know. We can only hope that later in life we’ll have six adventurous friends to go on an off-roading trip with, and when that day comes, best believe we’ll be stealing their walkie talkie method.

We wondered what awaited us during our last few days in Kyrgyzstan where we planned to do one of the most famous 4 day 3 night hikes here. We’d heard conflicting accounts, but one conclusion remained consistent: it was a real challenge. We got on a marshrutka to go to the town of Karakol on the eastern side of Issyk Kul Lake. We met a nice Swedish couple on the ride and chatted about our anticipation for the journey ahead.

The town was the biggest we’d seen outside of Bishkek, and it was buzzing with restaurants, coffee shops, and outdoor gear shops. Situated between mountains, the lake, and canyons, it was an outdoor lover’s playground and it was common to see other backpackers in their hiking gear. I was immediately drawn to the energy of this town where everyone seemed to have big plans and excitement for where they had just been or where they were going next.

It would only be our base for one night, and we needed to figure out our gear rental, food situation, pack our bags, and wake up by 5am the next day. We had no gear to cook food, so we would need to get crafty with non-perishable items for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for 4 days.

Our haul consisted of many cans of tuna, seaweed, potato chips, bread, peanut butter, jelly, snickers, and applesauce. We were ready, and full of excitement mixed with a little bit of nerves.

The first day of our hike began with pretty flat or gradual ascents. We followed the long flowing river surrounded by horses and spruce trees for most of the beginning four hours. The final two-hour push to our home for the night, Sirota base camp, took us up a steep slope, with the altitude leaving me struggling to catch my breath.

When we arrived at Sirota, we established a hiking tradition - after every lunch, we’d each get half of a king-sized snickers bar, and after every dinner we’d get the same. It was fun to have something to look forward to. We enjoyed our lunch of chickpea and bean leftovers from the night before, and of course ended with a snickers and nice nap. For dinner, a tuna seaweed wrap filled with potato chips has never sounded so good.

The next day was the hardest day of the hike. We kept an aggressive pace, hoping to experience the beauty of the Karakol lake before any crowds. The start of the hike invited us with gradual uphills but quickly unveiled a series of relentless steep climbs in loose rock and dirt. It’s one thing to hike like you’re on the hardest stairmaster settings at a gym, but it's another thing for the stairs themselves to slide underneath you as you hike.

The crowded, unappealing hike we’d imagined was nowhere to be found. As we got to the top of the first base, Karakol lake, we treated ourselves to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and of course, our little sweet treat!

We absorbed the serenity of the lake. But, the one thing that really captivated my attention was the silence. Beautiful. A hike that we lightly considered not doing for fear of it being overly saturated, too busy, turned out to give us perhaps the most calm, serene, and memorable experience. Did I mention challenging? Because despite climbing over 600 meters to 3500m of elevation, we still had 400m to go, plus a steep 1400m descent.

Our descent was not just any descent either, it was scree so steep and unstable that we saw multiple people falling trying to get to the base.

This is a section of the scree on our descent

We went slowly, prayed for our knees, and gripped our hiking poles. Luckily, we made it to the base with only one small fall. I was so tired from our morning ascent plus the slow and concentrated descent that I was more than ready to be done here.

But, we needed to hike an hour or two more to find a campsite and set ourselves in a good position for day three. The mental challenge was huge, but it made me reflect on what makes hiking feel so rewarding. Of course, the beautiful views and physical challenges are rewards, but there’s something special, too, about being in a place where our everyday comforts are out of reach. There are so many times I feel cravings for certain foods, or in desire of a shower, or another convenience that is not immediately accessible to me. I can’t walk to my kitchen and open a pantry to options staring back at me. Instead, we’re forced to wait. It’s in the waiting that the object of our desire becomes that much more appreciated when we return home.

For now, though, we had our snickers. We found the most serene spot to set up camp, and once the tent was up and our bags were off, we had very little interest in moving again. We sat and enjoyed our little (king sized) chocolate reward in the quiet. After spending so much of the afternoon wishing we were done walking, it felt good to finally be still.

The next day was much kinder to us. We walked at a more relaxed pace on largely flat terrain, grateful not to concentrate so hard on every step. Our knees had been through enough. And before setting up camp for the last time, we treated ourselves to a hot spring bath. Sinking into the warm water after all that walking felt almost unfairly good. I could have stayed there for a very long time, but we still had one more night in the tent ahead of us.

Our final walk out wasn’t quite the peaceful goodbye to the mountains I would have hoped for. Big trucks coming into and out of the park battered us with exhaust as they passed by. After all the quiet and serenity we’d enjoyed. The engine noise, pollution, and dust flying around were an unpleasant return to reality. We were ready to be off the road, out of our hiking clothes, and under a shower.

Fortunately, we got the reprieve we needed after four days of hiking. We made it back to our home for and began the very satisfying process of becoming clean and comfortable again. A shower, fresh clothes, and double cheeseburgers - food that hadn’t been sitting in our backpacks and weighing down on our shoulders. All the things we’d been thinking about on the trail were finally in front of us.

We settled into our hibernation without much hesitation. Our bodies were tired and we were happy to feed them well and let them rest. For the next few days, deciding what to eat and being selective about when we left our nest was as much planning as we wanted to do before heading on our bus to Kazakhstan.