Another awesome camp…great sleep, feeling awesome.
I take a half day, with doing laundry and washing myself next to the river. The water is ice cold so I would boil some water or let it sit in the sun for awhile.
Then I begin the ascent to the first pass.
Honey.
I distinctly remember this route of Honey too. About a kilometer up, there were two dogs neck deep in a thawing horse. I figured they were too occupied to bother me…but of course within a few meters of passing they’ve given up their taste for frosty horse for a much better looking meal.
I’ve had enough. I get off my bike, throw it down and starting running at them barking. Top of my lungs, screaming and barking. It got rid of them.
77% of an incline?! I must be a complete beast!
View looking South before setting up camp. It has gotten a bit chilly at this point.
April 24 2012 Osh to Bishkek (part vi) June 22nd, 2012WanderCyclist
Great thing I had a good view to start my day off, because I ripped my tent floor, about 3cm. Luckily, I have some special tape for tent/gear repair. I guess, traveling like this has really made me refrain my tantrums. When you try to conserve energy and no one is to hear you swear anyways…usually all I give out is an inside voice “damn it” followed by a big sigh maybe then followed by, “you’re such a sausage/idiot/dumbass” or some other self-deprecating insult.
It’s getting hot. I’ve descended from the mountains and nearing the reservoir. Nothing like melting in the sun, in a graveyard. But a pretty awesome graveyard.(I hate photographing in this bright light, ruins nearly everything.)
Today was fun. I had 2 boys on single speed bikes escort me up a mountain. They even waited for me when I was filling my fuel tank for cooking. They couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. It’s always fun to have some innocent kids making sure I’m safe. No communication, they just wanted to ride with me. This is the same hill/mountain that had a trailer from a truck, broken and shattered down the side. I bet that was fun for the driver! Speed kills, folks.
Bike is modeling in the direction I came from.
Camping on the lake. I had to set up away from the 2 rotting cows on the side of the hill. When I see fresh water like this, I always get a bit bummed not having a buddy around. I don’t know, it’s not the same hanging out in a lake/river alone.
April 22 2012: Osh to Bishkek (Part iv) May 30th, 2012WanderCyclist
I slept like a baby, on top of a fresh green bed of clover. It’s one of those bright mornings with the sun blaring down on me. Of course, the sunshine reminds me of waking up when I was touring with Brandon. Seeing his scraggly face peeking out of his tent wearing sunglasses. Yes…he was wearing his sunglasses in “bed”. That dude still cracks me up.
It’s going to be a warm day, but I’m well rested and fairly well fed.
Look, it’s the Kyrgyz and Uzbek border! Don’t cross over that dirt mound, you’d be breaking laws.
After this mind numbing stretch that borders Uzbekistan. I begin to ascend over some mountains towards the reservoir North of Kara-Kul.
This is proof to my brother that I’m not hanging out with “savages”. Christopher, they DO HAVE HOUSES here!
The sun is setting and it looks like a bit more up and up. It’s a winding mountain road…and the scenery is pretty pleasant.
I decide to stop and set up camp. I like to end a little early when I can to enjoy the scenery and have some thinking time.
April 21 2012: Osh to Bishkek (Part iii) May 29th, 2012WanderCyclist
I make it over the beautiful pass, everything getting greener and greener.
What stands out on the side of the roads, are the amazing bus stops from the Soviet days.
I stop to buy some supplies and some Camca. The restaurant owner tells me to come in and I’m treated to tea. Before I know it, there are a half a dozen of Kyrgyz men sketching their questions out on paper for me. It’s an enjoyable time, nice to rest out of the sun, and have some local company.
Riding through a valley and then up into a beautiful green area of rolling hills. Scoping out camp, my first search is a failure so I watch, and wait, for 2 cars to leave that are on top a hill in a beautiful green meadow.
I’m really stoked on this camp site and push my bike up and over for about 2 km from the road. The bed of clover is so comfortable…so comfortable…I know it’s going to be one of the best spots of all tour.
April 20 2012: Osh to Bishkek (Part ii) May 28th, 2012WanderCyclist
I started off a little later than I had wished from Osh. Last minute preparations and saying goodbye to the boys.
There was a very strong urge in me to get back on the road, and solo. I have been told numerous times that a lot of folks get invited into homes along routes in Kyrgyzstan. Setting out, I wasn’t looking for that, but rather some prime camping and alone time. There is a freedom you have when your solo and camping. Don’t get me wrong, I interacted a lot with locals on this route…I just didn’t want to deal with the hassle that sometimes homestays have.
The first day, April 19th was a slow and hot day out of Osh. Of course I managed to get turned around exiting the city but finally found my way out and on my way to a little mini pass on the outskirts of the city.
I stopped in a little town for some early dinner Camca – they are the kiln fired buns with lamb inside. Ordering 4, they are larger than a fist and I’m hoping I can eat all of them.
An older man invites me over to share his tea. He begins to talk to me, and we go very slowly as I can’t speak Russian good enough. Continuing to pour my tea, I take notice of how he watches me. He seems harmless enough but there is still something unsettling about him.
He tells me he lives near by and he has kids. Asking where I will be staying for the evening, he invites me to his home. At least is what I take from the broken conversation. This would be a moment where I wished for a male friend. No women or children around him, I just feel uncomfortable with him and thank him for the tea and move on.
On the edge of this town, I will buy my only bottle of water for the next 8 days. Now, I probably wouldn’t recommend that someone “Fresh From the West”. There are a lot of wells, mountain runoff, and hoses that have fresh, cold water. If I’m ever in doubt, I’ll wait around to see if the locals are drinking it.
I don’t travel with a water filter, although I wish I did at times. I’ve found, at least for solo travelers, if the area has water the locals are more than willing to help you. Also, I use a technique of letting the water sit in the sun, through a clear bottle, and let the UV rays kill some of the junk. Along with boiling it if time allows or I’m really doubting it.
There are a couple of little mini passes on the way to the 2 major passes to Osh. I begin to climb the first little one towards sunset.
I think about camping on the hillside and I begin to watch the sunset. A shepherd comes over and begins to chat me up. He’s kind and I learn the Russian word for China by talking with him. He’s hanging around so I decide not to set up camp and to keep moving on and up.
The sun is setting quickly and I’m not going to make the pass so I get off the road and push past a garbage pit and up into the hills.
I can hear sheep and a few shepherds but don’t see anyone.
A man gets out of his car and comes up the hills to talk to the shepherds. He then comes over to me to make sure I have enough water. He leaves me be and I set up camp.
I’m never really fearful of shepherds, never had a problem with them. They are usually too busy tending to the herd to bother me.
Well, it’s silent for the next couple hours but then…then…this is what I’m kept up with ALL NIGHT!
I’m basically awake all night, between the “bahhh bahhh” and the gas release and the shepherds talking and waving their flashlights around. One shepherd is examining my bike as I’m peeking out and I shout, “HEY!”, trying to lower my voice and sound as firm as possible. It pops him away.
No sleep at all.
April 19 2012: Osh to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan (Part i) May 28th, 2012WanderCyclist
Okay, so here I go, recounting the worse April Fool’s Day joke yet. And, the second most fearful time of my life. (The first being a pretty bad car wreck, where I saw my life flash before my eyes…before being thrown into the backseat headrest from the front passenger seat.)
I shove my head outside around 8am and exclaim to the tent next to me, “Oh my god, this may be the most beautiful sunrise ever!” I race out of my tent with my camera and tell the boys to chill for a little while, I’m working.
View from my tent at around 8am:
Campsite, around 8:30am:
Other images won’t be posted here, sorry. Also, no more large res images loaded – too much download activity on this site.
When I put on my frozen socks and take a walk outside. My boots are so stiff from the water freezing in the soles. This is going to be an awesome day!
The boys push off about 15 minutes before me. We can see the pass winding up the hill, black speckles (the trucks) coming down the pass.
We are estimating about 15km to the pass.
The wind begins to kick up. The sun is bright, beautiful clouds to our West.
There is a new hand signal from the drivers today. They continually make a throat cutting gesture from behind the driver’s wheel. What, death? Do you mean “death” as you slice your throat?! Okay, whatever, lets move on.
The roads are getting worse and worse. The wind picking up. Big clouds moving through the sky.
10:43 AM
11:31 AM
We sit on the side of the road before ice wall’s so the traffic can pass. Then we hustle the best we can over the ice to get to a clearing.
11:45 AM
I distinctly remember this driver. He was expressing to Matt about the skies and the road ahead and urging us to go faster. He did the same thing to me and pushed my bike past his truck. He showed a genuine concern for us and kept pointing at the clouds looming ahead.
To the right of the truck, you can see the pass leading up the hill. We have about 10km left.
We’ve been dealing with ice wall’s for awhile now. Today is the worse day. Traffic is stopped and we try to help one another throw our bikes up onto the snow…digging in the best we can. We stick close together, one will throw their bike in and then run to assist – usually me. Again, my bike weighs considerably more.
This is an example of the ice wall. Again, continually getting truck drivers cutting their throats at us.
Around noon, we are still on the 8 and half incline up the pass and the trucks are passing through the single lane. Lucas is well ahead and it’s just Matt and I.
I pull my bike out of the snow, as it’s about a half meter up the ice wall from the previous truck. I had climbed the wall and Matt had shoved the bike on top of me. I had snow in my boots and mittens but I was a safe distance from the truck.
Not 5 minutes later there is another truck coming towards us. Matt runs up with his bike and throws it up in the snow. I don’t have time. I press bike against the ice wall and then me.
Matt: “Are you sure you want to be there?”
Me: “It’s ok, I haven’t got a choice.”
The next place would of been exactly where I had been.
I make eye contact with the driver, at nearly eye level. I’m watching the tail end of the truck. It’s coming closer and closer and closer AND CLOSER…I’m in between the bike and the truck. The truck is a couple centimeters from my handlebars and bags and I envision myself getting pulled in with the bike under the wheel well….
The second loudest scream on tour as I envision my bowels being cut open by the truck. Or the bike being clipped and pulling me into the wheels, with me in between.
Lesson Learned: When a riding partner doubts your decision in life or death moments…DOUBT YOUR DECISION.
12:41
We take a break after the death ice wall, Matt shares the story with Lucas and the decision has been made to have lunch at the top of the pass…about 3km away.
12:46
It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
1:00 PM
Something strange is beginning to happen. You can see the ice begin to fly from behind me. I had jumped over an ice wall to block the wind and get out of the way.
I begin to bundle up but then realize my zipper is broken on my jacket and my mittens are shoved with snow. Ducking into the ice wall, Matt comes back and tells me we have to get going…there’s a storm coming in.
Within seconds it’s a complete white out. The pass is about a kilometer away. I’m slipping in strength and I look back at Matt, “Just go on without me, I can’t keep up” as I’m blinded by blowing snow and ice. “Don’t be stupid, Ellen”, was stated very calmly and with a bit of love and concern.
We make it to the peak, a little over 3700m high, in the midst of a storm. Pressing our bodies against an ice wall, we have no idea what we should do. We are all silent. Waiting, freezing…knowing this is really bad.
A car comes by, after a couple of minutes arranging prices, they say they will take us to Sary-Tash for 100USD. No one has USD on them so we convince them to take 100 Euros. Little do they know they are getting more money out of it.
1:54 PM:
Bikes loaded.
As we were preparing to get in the car, I brushed my hand against my face. Something felt very weird. I touched my face again…what’s going on with my skin? (Later in the car, the boys would tell me my face was frozen and it was the scariest thing they had seen in their lives. My skin was beginning to turn blue, according to them. Ever since this day, I go by the nickname, “Ice Face”. Tough…eh?)
We load into the tiny car and as the seat in front is lowered, I can feel pressure on my frozen toe. We all begin screaming to get the passenger up. I didn’t nearly lose my toe from the storm, but by an old car seat being lowered onto it.
They begin towards Sary-Tash. There are a few trucks pulled over and everyone waving around the “X” symbol. The road is closed. We can’t continue. They tell us we have to go back to the town on the border.
SHIT! 3 DAYS AND WE ARE GOING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED. No choice. No option.
As the car turns around and we head back, the driver points to the left. Lucas and I gasp as there is a frozen horse upside down, hooves mid air – in the midst of a run. What is going on?
The blizzard lasts for close to 2 hours, complete white out. The passenger will get out to help the car around. Sometimes both getting out to help oncoming traffic get through.
We have all moved our boots and socks. I’m repeatedly told I’m going to have to have my toes cut off. The boys shove theirs in their sleeping bags and mine are shoved in my hat…heels exposed.
It’s a tight fit in the car, and I’m sitting in the middle. I can see the gas gauge, nearly empty.
The driver is miming to us that we may have to sleep in the car. Every time both of them leave, the 3 of us are trying to figure out if it means we are sleeping there for the night.
I start my prayers of “oh mani padme hum”…the sky begins to break…I see sunshine…….I shove my head out the window with the loudest “Hallelujah” you’d ever hear.
The storm is over after nearly 2 hours. It takes us 6 hours to make it to their home. Where will be fed and cared for.
This will be an unforgettable April Fool’s Day, uniting the brothers of North East South West by Bike and the Wander Cyclist for ever.
April 2nd,
The driver will give us a ride to Sary-Tash. Where from there, we are able to hire a van to Osh. We are exhausted…we are on time lines…we nearly died – and me twice.
The daughter of the driver is attached to me. She loves having her photo taken and even struts as if she is on a catwalk at one point. She’s darling and also really wants my ring. I let her play with my eyeglasses instead. She stayed by my side during most of the visit and during our breaks on the car ride.
My mom recently asked me, “What were you thinking before the car picked you up?”
Honestly, I don’t know…nor do I remember. I just know I was really concerned about my soaking wet, cold feet. The boys and I did a tally on how many toes and fingers would of been lost if we hadn’t been picked up. We are pretty sure there would of been at least 3 lost – probably all mine.
I love you Matt and Lucas. Really.
Day 8: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – April 1 2012 May 8th, 2012WanderCyclist
The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.
The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.
Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!
We do try and make the best of the situation.
But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.
Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.
We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.
One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.
We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.
Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.
(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)
After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.
What have we gotten ourselves into?!
Day 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012 May 6th, 2012WanderCyclist
The road you see above, that’s frozen ice with the track marks cut through. Cold water will run through the tracks, soaking our feet, and then everything re freezing.
The day started off well, along with the first 5 km or so…then it’s just worse and worse.
Because I travel solo, my load and gear weighs considerable more than the boys. We traded off our bikes every now and again to split up the power consumption. Chivalry IS NOT DEAD!
We do try and make the best of the situation.
But we are losing patience and beginning to grow extremely tired.
Truck drivers are continually giving us hand signs of “X” but also pulling over and giving us food. If they hadn’t given us an extra supply of food…we would of starved.
We got cookies, chocolates, breads, and even a can of tuna. We sat on the snow and stuffed our little bellies the best we could.
One truck offers to give us a lift, but everything would have to be placed on top of the truck cab. The trucks are all locked because of the border control.
We are absolutely beat. Absolutely exhausted. I think we may have made a whopping 30km today…and I…look absolutely shameful. Not many women, especially me, would share something like this online, on their blog…but sometimes…when I man demands to help you, you just accept. My load is probably close to 20kg heavier. Also, the size, height of handlebars, and set up makes my bike very difficult to push. The brothers hate my bike…I still love her. She’s just a real c*$t to push up iced roads.
Now, to make up for this, I have been cooking for the boys. My stove works better and as they rest in their tent after this hard, cold, and wet day…I get to work boiling water for food (my food, to get rid of my weight) and water to drink.
(I’ve been meeting a lot of mid 20 something fellas…and the nickname “Auntie” has been sticking well. I guess it’s better than a “crazy cat lady”…but I’m still quite fond of “Ice Face”. That’s the story from the next day, April 1st.)
After dinner I snuggle into my tent and have 5 pairs of soaking wet socks hanging from my tent.
What have we gotten ourselves into?!
Day 7: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 31 2012 May 6th, 2012WanderCyclist
We get to the Exit Entry Bureau, I receive my passport and the boys get their stamps, a day before expiration.
It’s around 9:30 and we won’t be on the road until close to noon. Why? Let me share the story…
So, we have our stuff and we are ready to go. They wave us on and say something along of the lines of “go ride”. (Did you just hear the needle skip across the record too?)
No. This is not what is going to happen today. We begin discussing it through broken English and they tell us there are no empty trucks. Okay, I’ve lost my shit once before in China with authorities…it’s about to be my second.
In retrospect, it kind of weirded out the boys…and I DO NOT SUGGEST YOU DO THIS unless you’ve lived in China long enough to know the games. People always scream at each here, there is no shame…husband to wife, local to official…whatever. I know there is ALWAYS something that can be done.
I raise my voice, borderline shouting…okay, maybe I was shouting…in Chinese. Explaining how the guy up the mountains said we could get a ride back and now we are stuck. We didn’t know the rules, as they are new…blah blah blah…and then I storm out of the Bureau and let some tears roll down my face. A crying foreign girl usually helps the matter too.
The offer one bike to be put on the back of an unhitched big rig. No way in hell.
After 3 hours we finally paid a pick up truck to get us there. The officials even helped us get his price down. He wanted close to $150 USD but we got him a little under a $100. Those officials were trying their best to help us…and not to get ripped off.
Thank you Chinese officials…and foreigners…be careful when shouting at them. It’s a fine line and you really need to know what you are doing.
While loading the bikes in the back of the pick up truck, which is much safer than a truck…Lucas shows me something horrifying. His top tube had been against something in the truck and had been shaved away. As a member of the “Church of Steel”…I gasp looking at the aluminum shaved down. I drop the F bomb…dear god. It’s bad.
We are on the road by noon…we are racing the clock.
The roads are clear, considering we are ahead of all the trucks. The roads are still somewhat flooded and nearly a half dozen times all the passengers give a “Yae!!!” or “Whooo!” after successfully making the crossings. My jaw hurt from gritting so hard and the stress.
We make it to the border in about 4 hours. This is amazing. It was worth every penny.
I see my flirtatious buddy from the day before, but he’s not really as friendly as the previous day.
Riding through the border, I hit my 19,000th km. Of course this is an under approximation as my previous computer broke. I’m excited…this is my first ride over a border crossing. Exciting! There are a few border/passport checks and 7km later we are in Kyrgyzstan!
Black market exchange rate sucks.
Everything is muddy and slushy. It’s bleak. Trucks pulled over everywhere. Trailers spotted on the hillsides, selling SIM cards and food. We see a lot of snow ahead. A lot.
It’s going to be a short day of riding, with only a few hours left. We go on.
At Nura, about 3km from the border, all…let me say again…ALL the trucks are putting chains on their tires. They keep giving us hand signals of an “X” and pointing up to the pass. The tarmac still looks pretty damn good, and dry, and we just assume they don’t realize that we know what we are doing.
Ha! (Take note because we will be back in Nura in 3 days).
Within just a few kilometers this is our road conditions.
We are going up a mountain and I lose site of the boys around the corners. At a straight away, the traffic has been backed up. No traffic can pass. But what worries me is the boys are on the side of the road, bikes thrown over the ice walls, talking to locals. I see them looking at the bikes. Shit, what’s happened.
I push up and Lucas’ front left pannier had been ripped off by a passing truck. The truck did not stop. It’s just the clips that have been ripped. The brain child I am…I give them zip ties later to make the repairs and share the knowledge with them that these pieces can be ordered off the Ortlieb site. Yeah…German engineering.
We make it up the first tiny mountain and decide to call it the day. The sun is setting and we just want to set up camp. I boil up the water for noodles and the day is done, in Kyrgyzstan. With only one shitty thing happening today.
Day 6: Kashgar to Sary-Tash (w/NESW by Bike) – March 30 2012 May 4th, 2012WanderCyclist
