Kyrgyzstan is not only a difficult name to spell but it is also full of mountains. Each day when we are driving there are amazing views and geography lessons passing us by. We have been across lonely plains where the only human evidence is the odd yurt and a lone horseman in the distance; up switchback mountain passes over 3000m where instead of going down on the other side you look out over rolling hills that have a cover of low grass and look like wrinkled velvet, and in the distance are really big snowy mountains; along wide and narrow valleys where irrigation allows intensive agriculture and through scruffy villages and towns. We have stayed by lakes and in a gorge; beside an old caravanserai in a yurt; in a canyon in a tent and in a variety of guesthouses and sort of hotels that have not always been equipped with ensuite facilities. It has been a pretty good start.
We were picked up from our hotel in Almaty, Kazakhstan, by Azamat our driver for Kyrgzstan and set off in a comfortable Jeep Cherokee. Azamat was quiet, spoke good English and drove well. We went to the Charyn Canyon where we bribed a guard to let us drive down to the bottom of the canyon and camp there. I had to share a small tent with Colin. Next day we went out onto a very wide and deserted plain and ended up at the border to Kyrg. where the formalities went well. It was in the middle of nowhere with razor wire fences stretching either side but I suspect smugglers wouldn’t have too much trouble driving around the ends. Stayed that night at a place called Karakol near a big lake , Issyk Kol, and the next night at Tamga on the southern shores of the lake. Then to Tash Rabat, where there was the caravanserai and our first yurt – this was at the bottom of the pass from China. Next was two nights at Song Kul, another lake, and more yurt experience. And on to Osh the second city in Kyrg. with about a million population which is where this is being written.
This is not a rich country and sights along the road make you feel a time machine has sent you back quite a few decades. My agricultural correspondent will report later on these aspects. There are plenty of modern cars and trucks but also donkey carts, people on horses and donkeys, loose livestock wandering on the road and herds of sheep and goats going to market or their village for the winter. At one stage we were passing a truck with a few sheep on the back when their dog fell off and was in danger of being strangled by his short lead. Needless to say the agricultural correspondent was able to alert the truck’s occupants. Outside of the main towns the houses are small and generally far from new. There is a very definite sense of not much having happened since Soviet times which was before 1990 so there are decaying apartment blocks, abandoned factories and in the towns the footpaths need repair and there are lots of weeds and rubbish. Scruffy is definitely the word that comes to mind. It is not easy to work out what is inside buildings that might be shops because not only is all the writing in cryllic but also shop windows are not common. Even when you get in problems can occur such as when I bought fizzy water instead of still, and Colin didn’t like it. Trying to avoid buying sweet red wine needs the guidance of Azamat and for those interested the wines come from Georgia or Moldova.
Local cemeteries are a bit different, as when you are driving along you see these small towns in the distance and as you get closer you find they are cemeteries with the tombs being small scale replicas of religious buildings. In the valleys there are presently lots of produce stalls with water melons that would make Maurice’s heart happy. We stopped to buy some stuff before camping in the canyon and Colin couldn’t help having a bit of a flirt with the ladies selling and there is photographic evidence. After that we stopped in a very scruffy town where I caused great interest by setting off the alarm in the car. In Karakol we were able to attend the weekly livestock market which the agricultural correspondent will report on and we had hopes of seeing a local polo game which is played with a beheaded goat instead of a ball. But it didn’t happen.
Yurts are a good example of human ingenuity in their construction and we tested them in very cold conditions at over 3000m. We stayed two days at Song Kul where one is supposed to marvel at the scenery because apart from walking left or right and behind up a hill there is nothing else to do. You can vary that by doing it on a horse. Our yurt came with six beds which had a very very thin mattress each, so we put three each on our little slat beds and doubled up on the duvet things because it was below zero at night. The first night my top mattress moved to the edge of the bed as I tossed about trying to get warm. The pillow stayed in the middle and I was unaware of what was happening until a final turn resulted in there being no bed below me, and I fell onto the floor. The floor is bare ground with a felt mat covering so I bounced a bit and managed to put a foot through my sleeping bag liner, all of which amused my companion. This yurt camp had good food and the ultimate luxury of a sit down toilet seat over the very large hole in the ground. Usually there is just a hole in the covering boards, and the boards seem a little thin. We arrived at Song Kul about 1 pm and Azamat told me he was off to find a phone coverage spot for about an hour. When he turned up at 7 he was patently drunk and our quiet conservative driver now had a different voice and manner and couldn’t walk straight. The next day he was walking a bit better but still obviously under the influence. This was something of a worry because we were a very long way from anywhere and I had visions of him turning up to drive us the next morning still drunk and with us having no way of getting out of the place on our own. But he was his original self again at breakfast and the only problem was our Jeep wouldn’t start. A bunch of locals had a good time playing under the bonnet but it still wouldn’t go and a replacement had to be requested from Bishkek, the capital and head office, which took nine hours to arrive. Colin and I had by this time done the walking left and right several times and were not too interested in doing it on a horse , and walking up the hill was not easy because of the lack of oxygen, so we settled down to reading, napping and a little walk to the shore while we waited. The camp people didn’t really speak English but they knew we were being stoic so they kept the stove in our yurt going during they day, which is probably only done for soft tourists, and time gradually passed. Colin did remark that he hadn’t got to be a captain of industry by shagging around in yurts, but eventually an inferior Opel Frontera arrived and we set off into the evening finally reaching our destination at 11pm after going over a snow covered pass and some very rough roads. Luckily it was my turn in the back so Colin had the job of worrying about driving on unmarked roads in the night with rain and a little snow and I reckon he put a dent in the wall where he thought the brake should be.
Roads have varied from not too good to horrible with a few exceptions which are the major roads in parts. We have seen our fair share of single lane metal and dirt tracks and when we went to the world’s largest natural walnut forest we went over a couple of bridges that Fulton Hogan would have been horrified about. The worlds largest natural walnut forest was very nice but probably not worth the 160k drive. The locals drive with reasonable consideration with a few exceptions but during the night trip we did have to stay away from a guy in a Lada who we passed and were shortly after passed by him going very fast. He then showed what he had been doing that evening with several close encounters with the water course at the edge of the road and other unpredictable stuff.
Politically Kyrgyzstan is the least despotic of the Stans and is due for elections shortly and there is an actual competition. But it also has the usual corruption so probably if there is a change of leadership nothing much will be different apart from another similar lot getting their hands on the money. The population is about 5.5 million with a million working outside the country mainly in Russia. It is about 20% smaller in area than NZ and 70% is over 2000m high. It is part of the Russian customs union but there is plenty of infrastructure work being done by China so it is trying to balance between the two. It is poor but not at the far end of poverty – there are a few beggars in the cities but they are not widespread. Fewer than in Hamilton. As a tourist destination it certainly has spectacular scenery and the soviet charm of the cities and towns could be optimistically seen as interesting. We have come across lots of French and Germans and there are plenty of motorbike enthusiasts touring about as well as a fair number of cyclists who are very welcome to it. One of the more amusing sights is the local funny hat worn by a minority of the men. It’s about a foot tall, domed on the top, made of four pieces of white felt and with a trilby brim. Depending on the wearers perception of style there is black embroidery and occasionally a black tassel on the top. I momentarily thought about buying one.
The Agricultural Correspondent report follows:
These were originally a nomadic people and vestiges of that culture are still pursued. Black brown and brindle grazing sheep and goats are shepherded daily up on the mountains with a cowboy flair. Mobs of up to 200 are common. The farmers live at high altitudes of over 3000m for the summer and then the stock is driven down to the village for the very severe winter and kept indoors or in walled enclosures. As we drive through villages hay is stacked everywhere and those of you who have built haystacks can feel nostalgic as the hay is in square bales.
The impression is of a system that hasn’t and won’t change unless some unlikely economic change occurs. Intriguing and unforgettable sights have been:
The Karakol stock market, Sunday mornings, where willing buyer meets willing seller. A very long line of sellers with 2 or 3 tethered sheep each and the buyers trying for the best price. The horse sale area with a demonstration of the horses ability to compete by two young riders jostling and lunging at each other.
The numbers of stock wandering around on the roads as there are no fences at all.
Boys and men riding skinny legged donkeys herding sheep and goats.
Tractors that are all old square nosed and blue out of some Soviet factory a long time ago.
Square balers and combine harvesters that are rusted relics but still operating.
Men in hay paddocks with pitch forks stooking the grass for loading on carts pulled by horse or donkey.
As we got closer to the fertile valley of the Osh district the tractor quality improved and maize was a popular crop along with water melons and other vegetables sold in stalls littering the side of the road. Altogether an extreme time warp leap backwards particularly considering the intensive mechanised nature of the industry we have in NZ.
Dennis again. I have watched Colin looking in wonderment at the agriculture and it is very amusing.. Tomorrow we head for Tajikistan and the rigors of the Pamir Highway. I am pretty sure we have several nights of hard beds, nasty outside squatter toilets, rough roads, high altitudes and cold. Sounds wonderful doesn’t it.
Dennis.
Categories