Descent to Biskek

 Descent to Biskek

It had been a hot day. As we ascended into the mountains, the elevation countered some of the extreme heat. We found a bushcamp and set up our tents. We weren't sure whether the night would be mild or cold. Most of us unrolled our sleeping bag just in case but planned to sleep under a sheet on top of our blowup mattresses. 

It was mild when we went to bed so some tents didn't have a fly sheet and others had left their flysheets open. In the middle of the night a thunderstorm struck. There was a bright flash followed by runblng thunder. Then there were more lightning and thunder with the noise of the thunder echoing up and down the valley. The rain started with the sound a few telltale drops hitting canvas and built up to a cresendo. There was a mad scramble to put flysheets on tents and close the flysheet flaps.

In the morning, there was low cloud cover and it was cool. The rain had eased off but it was still enough to get soaked if you stayed outside for too long. We ate breakfast on the truck out of the rain. As we ate, a herd of cows came into our little patch of grass where we had camped. They were being taken up to their summer pastures in the mountains. They were taking a break to have a few mouthfuls of grass.

The accompanying horseriders had other ideas. They rode thrugh the camp and herded then back to the road. We helped each other to pack away our tents. We were back on the road in record time. But we soon caught up the herd of cows ahead of us. We had to inch our way past the cows.

A local traffic jam.

There was still low cloud and it was raining. The windows were soon steamed up and coupled with the rain and low cloud, it was difficult to see much. Through an open window and breaks in the cloud, it would be another spectagular route through the mountains. It got colder as we got higher. We might open a window to take a photo but it was soon slammed shut again to get the cold and rain out.

We were soon above the tree line. Tere were herds of aninals grazing on the extensie alpne grasslands. There were yurts near the road, with smoke coming out of chimneys showing that they were occupied.

Rivers raged in the bottom of the valleys and animals roamed the rolling grasslands.

Higher up, there was snow on the ground. There were few animals up here and no yurts. After the pass, the road dipped but it was still at a high elevation and above the treeline.

                                       

More yurts on the rolling uplands.

A close up of a yurt.

The road soon left the grasslands and headed up the side of the valley. As the slope steepened, the road took several hairpins to gain altitude towards the next pass.

At the top of the pass there is a 3.3 kilometres long tunnel. There was a gate across the entrance and no traffic had passed us coming in the opposite diretion for some time. It was another traffic jam caused by a herd of goats who were being driven through the tunnel.

We waited for the lost goats to be herded through the tunnel and then traffic was allowed to pass through. The cars and buses were allowed through first. We inched forward in the queue for cars but were told to wait. There was the 'Are we a bus or are we a truck?' arguement again. The man in charge thought we were a truck, so we had to wait.

It was more than an hour since we had arrived and more than half an hour since the last goat had cleared the portal. Finally we were allowed to go. We had to battle with a long line of trucks to cut into the access lane to the tunnel. Finally we were through.

On the far side, there is a very steep valley. The road hairpins back and forth to descend the steep slope.

We were through and descended in low gear. We followed the river to escape the mountains. There were few foothills. It seemed that the mountains ended and we were on a flat agricultural plain with no hills. We made better time on the flat straight roads.

We reached Kara Balta on the east west road between the Kazakhstan border and Biskek. I had been along this road before. It used to be lined with old style dachas with fancy wood carvings. But even ten years ago, some had fallen into disrepair. Others had already been redeveloped and replaced with more modern buildings.

I looked hard for some of the old dachas to no avail. There had been a lot of development. There were new houses. The market gardens and vegetable allotmenys behind the dachas had been built on. There were rows of shops, supermarkets, arages and industrial estates. It was a very different approach into the centre of Biskek.