Earlier this year I was delivered the news that my job was at risk of redundancy and that I’d have to reapply for my job. This left me feeling upset, frustrated and feeling under appreciated after all my hard work over the past 8 years. This feeling continued for a number of weeks in which I saw a last minute spot on a supported bikepacking trip to Kyrgyzstan, whilst contemplating voluntarily making myself redundant. I’d been to Mongolia when I was 18 and was drawn by the vast landscapes and time in nature without signal, going back to basics.
So it was an easy choice, I volunteered and booked onto the trip, immediately feeling a sense of relief about work but uncertain of how my body would cope at altitude or the details of the kit I would need. Minor details!
Fast forward a few months and I’d enjoyed a month of gardening leave, doing actual gardening and riding my bike. I’d packed my -10 sleeping bag and factor 50 sun cream and had my travel vaccinations (something I didn’t budget for but decided it was important after a conversation with my mum, the retired consultant). I arrived at the hotel in Bishkek after a solo taxi ride and in anticipation that I’d arrive safely at my destination. At breakfast I met friendly Lauren, Pete and Matt, old friends but they let me join their group. I spent the day building my bike and resting before joining the others for dinner. The following day the rest of the crew arrived; Tim, Jo and Eddie, father and two sons from the UK and couple Sharon and Eugene from Australia. Organiser Stef and Co-leader Nelson made us feel at home and excited of what lay ahead.
The following morning we loaded bikes onto a minibus roof and headed for Son-Kul lake, our first yurt camp. We drove over a gravel pass in a hail and lightning storm, the van went quiet, what had we let ourselves in for and were we going to be riding in these conditions. Further on, the road deteriorated and the gravel became grassy mud after the rain. The minibus struggled and on more than one occasion we had to get out and push, or in my case sit above the rear axle for traction. At one point the driver was up to his elbows in a muddy puddle washing his hands whilst trying to fit snow chains to the balding tyres. We decided it was time to grab the bikes and ride the last 5 km to the yurt camp. We arrived at 8pm, cold and hungry but were greeted with a table of various breads, jams and sweet treats accompanied by tea, this was only the starter. Eventually the minibus arrived with our gear and Nelson with the monster jeep which would be our support vehicle for the duration of the trip. What an adventurous start to the trip, but this is what I craved these vast landscapes and the unknown.
After my first evening in a pungent yurt, from the smell of dried horse manure used to fuel the stove, I woke early but was poorly rested after my first night at 3000m. Acclimatising to altitude was a theme of the trip and made the riding quite tough. We rode 47 km off road around the lake with a few short sharp climbs that left everyone breathless at the top, and that was taking it easy. It was a pleasure enjoying the vast landscape and rolling past yurt camps and herds of cows with a few river crossings. Lunch was a picnic on the lakefront, in which Nelson rustled up bread, cheese, ham and fruit. We were all taken with the Smokey salty cheese string cheese and couldn’t get enough. The last half of the ride seemed to be into a strong headwind which never stopped all day and the muddy riding was energy sapping. I’d had grand plans for a wash in the lake at the next yurt camp but was disappointed when I realised it was a bog and sunk up to my ankles in my socks when trying to get in, so resorted to a baby wipe wash instead. There was a bitterly cold wind that evening and we all huddled together in the communal yurt drinking tea and sharing our worries of altitude and sickness. But we were all excited by the flushing toilets unlike yesterday’s long drop. This appreciation of the novelties of running water and mod cons would become real as we started to wild camp.
Again I woke early but poorly rested my watch reading body battery of less than 50/100 but I was excited to be in this vast landscape. Breakfast was a multi course affair, porridge, eggs and yogurt if you wanted, they just kept bringing food out, much to our delight. We left just after 9 am and cruised along on well paved gravel roads with the wind at our backs. I was at the back of the group as I was trying to keep my heart rate low to acclimatise, but I realised this would be common and something
I had to deal with mentally. We climbed to the top of 33 parrots pass and were greeted with an amazing view of gravel switch backs in the vast landscape.
View from the top of 33 parrots pass – chunky gravel switch back descent
The descent was great fun but required concentration to choose the best line and get round the corners without washing out. It was tricky not to look at the drop on the corners and I kept reminding myself to focus on the job at hand. Eugene got carried away on his gravel tyres and punctured, I was relieved to stop and help as the bumps were jarring even on the mountain bike.
We regrouped at the bottom of the descent for lunch by the river just in time, as we watched a local herding their goats up the road we’d just come down. Another yummy picnic lunch this time with melon and coke to keep hydrated. The following section was slightly downhill which we cruised along before the next climb, a 10 km drag back to 3000m. I quickly got dropped out the back of the group but was enjoying the scenery so took my time and tried to keep my heart rate low, a challenge for a 7% gravel climb but somehow the views fuelled me to the top with the odd stop for a photo. The descent was more open so you could really let the bike go but I had to concentrate and not look at the view. We passed some cycle tourists with front and rear panniers climbing in the opposite direction and I was glad to be going downhill. Another 58 km clocked with 800m of climbing for day 2 of riding, good going as we were still acclimatising.
After setting up my tent I went for a ‘wash’ in the river; I sat in my bibs and sports bra up to my waist in the freezing river washing my socks, which I hung on a washing line attached to my tent. At first the others thought I was mad but they later joined me. It was a pleasure to wash the sweat and sun cream from my face and the dirt from my legs. It had been a hot day so I enjoyed my ice bath in the river and the expedition admin. That evening we enjoyed BBQ food until bursting and some local brandy to follow. I opted for an early night, falling asleep reading my kindle but the midnight pee was accompanied by the most amazing stars, always a bonus.
Not surprisingly I woke tired on day 3 of riding, still adjusting to the altitude, but I was feeling good compared to others in the group. Eugene had been having early nights and struggling with a sickness and stomach bug. Stef and Nelson were trying to source medical advice but this seemed tricky with a sat phone in the middle of nowhere. My mum had suggested taking antibiotics for D&V from the travel clinic so I offered these to Euguene as fingers crossed I wouldn’t need them as we were well into the trip. It was a shame to see Euguene sit the day out in the van but this spurred me on when I was struggling that day, feeling grateful that I was able to ride my bike.
The day started with a short gravel climb and descent to the highway with a road climb over to the village of Sarybulak. We regrouped at the highway and I sampled the joys of the public squat toilets at the side of the road. I recommend holding your breath. Nelson started a train for the first part of the climb which I struggled to keep on in the heat but did my best to keep the group together. For the second part of the climb we went at our own pace, I struggled but was spurred on when seeing Euguene in the van and was grateful to be spinning my legs, albeit very slowly. The descent was fast, even over taking very slow moving lorries. I caught up with speedy Pete and was enjoying the slip stream as we had a headwind. Then all of a sudden Lauren zoomed past and we worked together to get on her wheel and cruised down to Sarybulak together for a cafe lunch.
The second half of the day was a continuous gentle climb into a headwind on various surface types, princess gravel, tarmac and no-line gravel as I came to call it. I was chummed by Nelson at the back chatting bikepacking racing and podcasts. I could tell my pace was painfully slow for him but I was grateful for the company. I learned the previous day to high five children at the side of the road and there was plenty of this when we regrouped at a small village with cemeteries on the outskirts. The graves are almost miniature shrines to the dead, often enclosed by four small walls, I later learned Kyrgyz funeral traditions include both Muslim and pre-Islamic era belief and rituals.
Learning to high five the locals on the move
After regrouping we had a lumpy 20 km to the camp spot into a headwind. The gravel road started to deteriorate with a smooth line, something of the past and potholes prevailed. I was tired and hungry and maybe hadn’t eaten enough all day and caught myself welling up behind my sunglasses and almost hyperventilating. I caught up with Stef and Tim and gave them a grumpy greeting before bursting into tears, not sure what they thought but they agreed to ride with me for a bit. I was struggling with my ego, being at the back and my PTSD telling myself I wasn’t good enough and should go home. Somehow I managed to pull myself together, inhaled an emergency gel and carried on. We regrouped, meanwhile a van with two drunken locals jumped out, shook all our hands and posed for photos with us, this broke the ice. Later on I realised that everyone was struggling when Pete and Lauren caught me at yet another snack spot.
Filtering water under a rainbow after a hard day on the bike
We clocked 85 km and 1200m of climbing on day 3, finishing into a strong headwind and racing to pitch our tents in the wind before another rain cloud emptied. I was relieved to get to camp but vowed to keep on top of snacking for the upcoming days.
After my camp admin set up, brief wash and filtering water I had some quiet time in the tent to stretch and read before joining the rest of the weary group.
That evening our driver cooked up a storm of Plov; pilau rice sautéed with onions, carrots, lots of garlic and spices with the vegetarian addition of chickpeas. It was absolutely delicious despite the name and made better accompanied by left over BBQ sausages, another fantastic camp night.
Day four started with a feast of scrambled eggs with avocado and bread, but no chili flakes! A big breakfast to fuel us into the mountains and Eugune was back on the bike once more. I was feeling better rested and I had a bag of Percy pigs and my ear phones to get me dancing up the climbs. I left early with Stef, Tim, Jo and Eddie whilst the stronger riders faffed. Somehow this aided my ego, I’m too competitive and was trying to learn to enjoy the experience.
The morning was a gradual climb and as Nelson promised the gravel slowly improved to princess grade or champagne gravel, we all shared our names for the gravel grading. The climb went on for 20km and 500m ascent, I stopped at one point to find a pee spot at the back and somehow the jeep driver realised what I was up to and waited patiently. He did later offer a tow rope out of the driver window when I stopped to get the turbo tunes going, I laughed, otherwise I’d cry, he was only trying to help. Shortly afterwards Eddie jumped in the jeep as he was struggling with an inflamed knee. I was in a good mood trundling along listening to my tunes, but not enough breath to sing as I went. Another spectacular view at the top of the climb and regroup for a snickers before a long descent following Nelson. The descent was as long as the climb and we rode through a cattle drive which was amazing to witness. We later found out that the cattle were being moved 50 miles across the country in this way.
Riding through a cattle drive – glad to have Nelson’s wheel to follow
After the descent we turned into another valley and could see the snow capped mountains ahead. We climbed slowly with anticipation as to what lay ahead as tomorrow would be the summit day. The tracks became chunkier as we got closer to the mountains and we climbed back up to 3000m. It was another spectacular afternoon of riding and motivation was high to get into the big mountains.
Just before setting up camp we had a couple of rivers to cross which were over knee deep and fast flowing in places. I opted to have someone lift my bike over for me and we worked together to get across safely. Matt made it look easy and stood in the river offering a hand to help everyone across. He made the lifting of bikes look easy, we concluded this must be from lifting his children back home and I was really grateful for the assistance.
River crossing teamwork
We camped on a plateau with a steep drop to get down to the river, this was more tricky for washing and water but still manageable. That night we feasted on Stir fry followed by chocolate with an early night in anticipation of an early start for summit day in the morning.
I woke to a dusting of snow on the tent. It was drizzling and cold but we didn’t have another option but to go over Tosor pass to get to lake Issyk-Kul. The weather added to my nerves and anticipation but this is what I came here for, to travel by bike in the big mountains.
We left slightly later than planned to see if the rain let up and after the first river crossing it did so I could take my waterproofs off as we had a 35 km long climb to the summit. I learnt to place my feet confidently to get a good footing whilst lifting my bike on the downstream side of my body through the river crossings. We lost count of the crossings, some stopping to take shoes and socks off and others admitting defeat to wet feet. It was slow going with the rivers and chunkier ground but we kept moving together with the support jeep close behind.
Approach to Tosor pass – riding beneath the snow capped peaks
Three hours in and we still had not made the summit but stopped to regroup and an early lunch of cold pasta scooped into our mugs. The altitude made it hard to breathe but we kept plodding along. We began to turn left, leaving the valley we were in and approached the pass summit. It started to snow as we continued to climb and the ground got steeper and more technical, but somehow it didn’t feel too cold as we were working hard. I struggled with hike a bike due to my fused ankle so tried to ride the more technical sections but had to stop to breathe, in the end only walking for 1km or less. As we approached the summit we witnessed a local herding his horses over the pass surrounded by a dusting of snow, the icing on the cake to the experience.
Stopping for a breather before arriving at the summit
After a warm snickers from the jeep and cheers all round at the summit it was time for an extra layer and to begin the 40 km descent before the weather came in. The descent was spectacular, at first it felt very alpine in the snow with the rocky gravel road. I was grateful for my mountain bike on the rockier sections and found myself ahead of Matt and Eugene on their gravel bikes.
We stopped 10 km down to regroup and the heavens began to open so it was thunder pants and winter gloves to keep warm. The further we went down the smoother the track became and the more speed we carried as we could see further ahead. We passed a number of trucks traveling up the pass, some passengers waving their vodka bottles at us, this now becoming the norm.
At one point we stopped next to a high mound of ground to shelter from the wind and rain. In all our clothes we were still a bit cold and we bounced from one foot to another to keep warm whilst willing the sun in the sky ahead to be blown our way. As we continued downwards the rain stopped and it got warmer, we even had to stop to remove layers, a big change to an hour previous. The scenery became more arid and desert-like as we descended but the odd deep mud section was thrown in for good measure, some were not rideable, others more like cyclocross practice.
We soon arrived at the main gravel road and lake Issyk-Kul. We’d descended from 3900m to 1600m in 40km, it was thrilling, even in the rain. We were grateful to arrive at our yurt camp for the night that had en-suite facilities, Wi-Fi, electricity and comfortable beds. That night we ate dinner, tired but satisfied from the day, and sat on the floor in the traditional way fortunately we all got back up again.
We woke up late on the morning of day 6, some after staying up to watch the euros, and most looking forward to a relaxed day on the bike. We had a short 35km ride along the lake to the final yurt camp and the end of the trip. We detoured to the fairytale canyon, a local tourist attraction and shared the beautiful sandstone landscapes with many others which felt odd after having the mountains all to ourselves.
Back on the main road we had 15 km to the ice cream stop and at 1600m above sea level I felt really strong. I ended up cruising along with Matt, Pete and Euguene counting down the kilometers to ice cream. With 10 km to go they asked if I wanted ice cream sooner so we increased the pace and zoomed along. It was great to feel strong and have oxygen flowing freely after riding at altitude, it somehow made the simple soviet ice creams taste even better.
Shortly afterwards we arrived at the final yurt camp. I was sad that the journey was over but could feel my body getting tired and my bike had a broken spoke so maybe it needed a rest. After a huge lunch we spent the afternoon faffing with kit, cleaning bikes and drying tents as well as a dip in the lake.
Sampling Soviet Ice cream after a time trial on day 6
I enjoyed taking some time to reflect on the experience before traveling home. I looked at the photo of myself eating ice cream on the steps noticing my scar on my right knee and that my right calf is visibly larger than my left as a result of my fused left ankle and the difficulty to gain muscle mass here since a mountaineering accident many years ago. But I felt strong and proud of what I’d achieved, a self propelled journey through a magnificent landscape with the support of a fantastic team. After an expedition to Mongolia at the age of 18 I craved to be in vast landscapes and that’s why I got into mountain biking after my injuries. I felt like I’d come full circle back to those mountains despite injury, it was a rewarding and fulfilling experience. I find a sense of calm and almost solace when I’m in the mountains and this trip helped me process my thoughts and feelings. I have not completely resolved them or decided on what’s next but I’ve got a plan to get there now.
I’d like to thank my fellow travel companions for their company on the trip from sharing laughs when washing in rivers to concerns on the summit day. I cannot recommend Stef at Pannier CC enough for his organisation and patience, I really enjoyed the ethos of the 15 kph club. For Nelson, the brains behind the Silk Road mountain race, nothing was a problem, beer chilling in the river or descending on aero bars to get to the front of the group. A fantastic trip I can’t recommend enough.
Photos from @stefanmato and @spinnnout
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