Issyk Kul Beach

Well, I am back from my annual trip up to Lake Issyk Kul with some of the the kids.  This year we took Andrei and Maxim and their older brother Jenya, (the girls having already been up to the lake earlier in the season), and a couple of their school friends.

There’s plenty of choice when it comes to finding accommodation as, apart from the hotels, sanatoria, pensionats and resorts, virtually every home around the lake seems to display a notice saying “Sdai-you komnat“; “Rooms to let”.  These B&B’s (Bed and Breakfasts) are known locally as the “private sector”.  As it happens, this year I chose to stay with some friends rather than in a resort.

I have known Misha for some fifteen years and he is one of my longest standing acquaintances here in Kyrgyzstan.  His mother in law has a “summer house” just outside Cholpon Ata, (the largest resort on the northern shore, just half way along the lake), and they’ve invited me to come and stay with them several times in the past.  Unfortunately, I have never really had the opportunity to take them up on their offer of hospitality, so I was delighted to be able to do so this time.

Misha's house

The house is set back off the main road, up a bumpy lane, with some rather basic, (if not derelict), looking houses for  neighbours.  One of the advantages this offers, however, is that the neighbourhood is quiet and peaceful.

Nestling under one of the foothills of the Kungey Ala Too, there was plenty to explore in the neighbourhood but, to be honest, we didn’t do it justice.  After a day on the beach, we were just too tired to venture too far.  Apparently we missed out on one of the many petroglyphs that can still be found in the region.

The Issyk Kul Eye

Just outside Cholpon Ata, it’s also not far from the village of Bosteri which acts as a magnetic for families as one of the resorts in the village, (Zolotoi Peskiy – Golden Sands), has a range of attractions such as a large Ferris Wheel which is visible for miles around, (I call it the Issyk Kul Eye – after the London Eye), and an “Americanskiy Gorkiy” – a roller coaster, complete with 360 degree corkscrews.  Maxim has been egging me on to take them there for two years now, so I thought that perhaps, this year, I had better oblige.  So on the Saturday morning we climbed into the minibus for the short drive.

The beach at the resort is a private one, so we had to pay to gain entry, but it wasn’t expensive.  It was, however, very crowded.  Beach umbrellas were set out in serried rows and we selected one beneath which we placed our towels whilst the kids went off to explore.  I’m not a great one for beach holidays so I was happy to sit under the umbrella and read my Kindle.

Aibek and a hawk

There was a constant stream of hawkers selling everything from smoked fish, hot pies and cold beer, ice cream, corn on the cob and so forth.  The ones which attracted our attention were, literally, the hawkers – young men carrying hawks for people to pose with – for a small fee, of course.

I did make one excursion from under the umbrella, to take the leisurely twenty minute ride on the Ferris Wheel.  The cabins were small – just space for four people – so we had to split up into different cars.  As we rose high above the lake we got good views of the resort, the crowds, the attractions, including people paragliding at the same height that we reached, and the mountains on both sides of the lake.

The Americanskiy Gorki roller coaster

The cost of the main attraction, the roller coaster was not so modest, at least in local terms.  Certainly not as modest as its size might have suggested to those of us who have been on other rides in the West.   All the same there was a quite a queue and Maxim enjoyed it so much that he went round twice.  Andrei, on the other hand, decided that the corkscrew was too much for him and chose to save his money for other more traditional attractions … like Coke Coca Cola and Ice Cream.

Although the outing was a great success, one thing that surprised me was that everyone agreed it was worth visiting, seeing and trying the attractions, but once was enough.

Sitting on the beach

They preferred the small beach not far from the house, (about a 20 minute walk).  It was a narrow beach but not particularly crowded.   Here we had the run of the beach, without having to worry about the crowds … and all that that might involve.  Andrei and his brother Jenya managed to find a card game with another family on the beach as well as befriending a puppy, building sandcastles and burying each other.

We were luck with the weather.  Last week saw some a turn as the hot spell we have been enjoying came to a sudden end.  Up at the lake they had rain and hail, and in the mountains there had even been snow.  I got a bit worried at one point on the drive up to the lake, as it was still fairly overcast, there were some threatening clouds and we saw not one but two rainbows in the sky at once.  A rainbow, however, is supposed to be a harbinger of better weather and so it was to be. the weather took another turn and the sun came out and it ended up being quite warm … Hot even.  We  all seemed to manage to get sunburned to some degree or other … even me; despite trying to learn from past experience and spending nearly all the time under an umbrella, or with a hat on, I managed to go a deep shade of pink.  Fortunately, no one was seriously burned so it didn’t ruin anyone’s trip.

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Now, I’m not a great one for “beach holidays”,  but I have to admit that I found the weekend a great break from the daily routine, returning to Bishkek tired but refreshed and raring to go once more.

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For some more photographs – here’s a photogallery – you can also see it here.

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They say that you can experience all four seasons in one day in Kyrgyzstan.  I have come across this myself in the past.  The mountainous nature of the terrain creates plenty of scope for microclimates in different valleys, varying with altitude, aspect, (North, South East or West facing), different soils creating habitats for differing types of vegetation and so on.

On my recent trip to Naryn over the weekend we certainly experienced two seasons.

The day began, as usual, early, before the sun had even risen.  The overnight temperature was about -15 degrees Celsius, although the Weather Channel told me it was -17, but that was the temperature at Manas Airport, about 40 kilometres to the North of the city, where it is regularly a couple of degrees colder than the city centre in Winter.

Here had been sow and it had settled, although it wasn’t thick.  I was glad that I had decided to dress up warm, with several layers in the “Onion Principle”, although here they talk about the “Cabbage Principle”.  The idea is that the air trapped between the different layers acts as additional insulation.

Even so, my toes felt cold and I wished I had put on a couple of extra pairs of socks.  As it happens, my feet soon warmed up and it wasn’t a problem.

It was so cold that we actually had trouble opening the car doors when we stopped to pick up Tatiana, the accountant.   The diver, on the inside of the vehicle, was pushing whilst I and Tatiana on the outside were pulling as hard as we could.  In the end the lock mechanism gave way and settled down for the journey.

I noticed that ice quickly formed on the inside of the windows and I started thinking about what might happen if we got stuck in the mountains, (for example, if the car broke down or an avalanche blocked the road … however the vehicle had just been checked for the journey and it is not the season for avalanches – not yet – so I put my mind to rest.)

One of the attractions of travelling in this sort of weather is the beauty of the scenery as the snow covers the landscapes.  On this particular occasion, I noticed hw the branches of the bare trees, bereft of their leaves, stuck out like white fingers pointing into the sky, and there were also moments where the sunlight caught on the snow creating a sparkling, glittering effect.

Although the snow lay across the countryside on both sides of the road, the carriageway itself was more or less clear where the weight of passing traffic had not allowed it to settle.  For us, travelling in the middle of the day, it made for easier going, but I could imagine that early morning and late evening, when frost settled in, the surface would be slippery and treacherous.

As we approached Boom Gorge, about 150 kilometres from Bishkek, the snow seemed to disappear.  The landscape was clear, almost as if it was just another Spring day.  It was still pretty cold outside, however, because the valley acts as a natural chimney for funnelling strong winds down from the Issyk Kul basn to the Chui valley below.

It was as we driving through the gorge that I saw another of those strange, esoteric, surreal moments.  There at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, (no houses around, no vehicles parked nearby), were three young people, two boys and a girl, in the middle of the Islamic prayer ritual. Where they came from and what they were doing there, (as I said, in the idle of nowhere), I have no idea.

The landscape remained clear of snow for the next hundred kilometres or so.  Of course, we didn’t expect to see snow on the ground in Kochkor, legend has it that it never snows in Kochkor – some locals claim that it is to do with the abundance of salt in the neighbourhood soils that lowers the freezing point of water and helps to ensure that snow melts almost as soon as it hits the ground.  I have to point out, however, that I have seen snow settled on the ground in Kochkor, and even won two bottles of Cognac on the basis of my scepticism of the local legend.

The bright sunshine almost turned the day from Spring into Summer as far as we were concerned, warm and snug in the vehicle.  However, the ice on the surface of the Orto Tokoi reservoir and the Sary Bulak River gave the lie to this misleading impression.

In fact, the bright sunshine wasn’t everywhere. As we drov along the bottom of some the narrow valleys, we seemed to descend into the depths of the earth as the sun disappeared over the crest of the hills and we were plunged into deep, dark shad … as if we had suddenly entered a tunnel.  Then we would turn a corner, or crest a ridge, and the sun would re-emerge and we would be bathed once more in its bright rays.

Finally, as we approached the highest point of journey, the Dolon Pass at 3025 metres above sea level, the snow, (and Winter), returned and stayed with us all the way to Naryn.  The snow wasn’t too thick, however, and didn’t really hold us up.

I took the GAI to do that.  The GAI are te local traffic police and one of them, standing by the side of the road, waived his baton to us as a signal to pull over.  He approached the car and asked to see the documents, (the driver’s license and the registration documents for the vehicle).  Once those formalities were out of the way he held up the Radar gun that he had in his hand and showed the reading to the driver.  Apparently he had been caught speeding.  Only, he didn’t think he had been speeding … and then he noticed that the time displayed on the gun was different, so he wasn’t going to pay an “on-the-spot” fine. It took a long while to sort out the formalities before we could proceed on our way.  (That’s a problem waiting for him to face when he returns to Bishkek).

Thatdelay was one reason why it took us longer than usual to get to Naryn, but careful driving to take account of the weather and road conditions was another.  Anyway, we eventually arrived and decamped from the vehicle, ready to set about work, preparing the annual returns – but that’s another story.

The skies above Naryn were covered in cloud.  It covered the tops of the mountains that surround the town and the sun was visible only as a large, bright spot through the haze.  Oddly enough, for the town known as the coldest town in Kyrgyzstan, it was relatively warm – just minus eight degrees Celcius.

I wasn’t going to need those extra socks.

In fact the guesthouse was quite warm.  A light snow was falling outside, but inside we felt comfortable and snug.  What was odd was that the radiators were just luke warm – not piping hot and certainly not too hot to the touch … so although the staff had stoked the boiler the warmth wasn’t just down to the central heating.    To be honest, it was probably the most comfortable and snug that I have felt up there in winter ever since we opened in 1998.

That night the light snow kept falling.  The news in the morning told us that the overnight temperature in Naryn was minus eight, whilst in Bishkek it was minus eighteen.  I was glad that we were in Naryn.

When it came time to leave we could see the new snow lying on the ground … there was a brilliant whiteness all around.  In fact the snow continued all the way over the Dolon pass, down through Sary Bulak all the way to Kochkor.  The driver chose to take the by-pass and not drive into the village, which was a pity because there was so much snow on the ground all the way up to the outskirts and I was looking forward to the possibility of being able to claim another bottle of cognac.

Once past Kochkor, however, the snow disappeared and in Boom Gorge there was none to be seen.  It was still pretty cold, however, as a result of the strong bitter winds that were blowing.  The roads were clear of snow all the way back to Bishkek and we made good time.

It was definitely colder in Bishkek, however, and, once again, my toes began to tingle.  Perhaps I was going to need those extra socks after all.

Sunday was a rare “day off”.

Tatiana, my accountant, has a friend, Anna, staying from Russia, and suggested going into the mountains so we decided to make a day of it.

The obvious choice for a day trip from Bishkek is to go to one of the valleys in the Kyrgyz Krebet, just South of the city.  A favourite place to visit, for both locals and visitors alike, is the Ala Archa National Park.  Although it is beautiful and has a variety of landscapes and a range of walks of differing levels of difficulty, I prefer the next valley, Alamedin because there tends to be fewer people there.  We decided that because it has been cold and there has been snow recently that we would go to both valleys and spend a shorter time in each, returning to the vehicle and warming ourselves up on the journey between the two.

Unfortunately, February is not necessarily the best time of year as many places are inaccessible because of the snow which persists in the mountain.  We wanted, for example, to go along the road through the foothills between the Ala Archa and Alemedin valleys, past the ski bases.  However, it is not open for the whole length of the road so we decided to take the lower road, past Chon Tash and the Ata Beyit memorial.

We gathered a crowd of people from the office and four of the kids and left the office at nine.  Although the sun had been up for over an hour, it was still pretty cold.  The snow was not too bad in the city center, but as we left the suburbs it lay on the road making conditions a little tricky for Rustam, our driver, which meant it took us a little longer than usual to arrive at the park.

Once there we decamped from the vehicle and went off our separate ways for a walk.  It would have been nice to have gone up to the Ak Sai waterfall, but it normally takes two hours and so we decided to take the easy walk up the main valley instead.  Victor soon disappeared to take some panoramic photographs, and the kids ran off into the trees.  Vlad decided to throw snowballs and I warned him that he would soon be without a job if one of them hit me.  Fortunately, when the kids rejoined us and stopped playing photo models, they made suitable targets.

There was quite a wind which added a chill factor to the temperature, but I was well wrapped up.  Unusual for me, I even had a scarf and a hat – a baseball cap made of felt.   Unfortunately it didn’t cover my ears which were soon feeling frozen.

It was interesting to see the park in white rather than the usual shades of green.  The branches of the trees were all caked with snow about an inch thick and looked really attractive.

We returned to the vehicle for a packed lunch and a very welcome cup of hot coffee from the Thermos flasks, before setting off for the second valley.

Once again the going was slow due to the slippery road conditions.  At Chon Tash there was quite a crowd of people skiing and tobogganing down the slopes.

We pulled up in the car park of the Hot Springs sanatoria, (Tyoplie Kluchiy), and went for a walk past the swimming pool, (with natural hot water from the radon springs from which the sanatoria takes its name).  No-one had taken me up on the suggestion and brought their swimming costumes, which was just as well because it looked as if the pool was closed.  Normally, I take the higher path above the sanatoria, but this time we walked through the resort and along the river bank to the rickety bridge across the river.  From the bridge there is a path which goes to another waterfall, but, once again, we decided that we didn’t have the time to go looking for it.  I was the only one to cross the bridge and I am not sure that we would have found or been able to follow the path given the snow cover.

It was later in the day, the sun was higher and so it wasn’t quite a cold as in Ala Archa, although the winder was stronger and so the wind chill much more noticeable when in the open spaces.

After a gentle walk it was back to the vehicle another cup of coffee to warm ourselves up, and the drive back to the city – for much of the way following a car dragging a toboggan behind it, swinging dangerously, (so it seemed to me), from side.

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I have posted some photos from the trip in the Photo Galleries section and there is a panorama uploaded to www.see.kg – we’ll put some more up later.

When it happens to me I find that it is usually just a short phrase, maybe a line or two, from a song heard long, long ago.  It goes round and round in my mind, repeating over and over and I just can’t get rid of it.

This happened to me on Monday evening … the phrase that I kept humming to myself were the opening lines from a song recorded back in the 1960′s by the English singer and comedian, Max Bygraves, sung in a heavy East End London, working class, accent:

“They changed our local Palais into a bowling alley
and fings ain’t what they used t’ be …“

There’s Teds wiv drainpipe trousers
and Debs in coffee houses
and fings ain’t what they used t’ be
There used to be Trams not very quick
Gotcha from place to place
But now there’s just jams ‘alf a mile fick
Stay in the human race… I’m walking

They stuck parking meters outside our doors to greet us
Now Fings ain’t what they used t’ be

Corr! monkeys… flying round the moon
We’ll be up there with ‘em soon
Fings ain’t what they used t’ be

Once our beer was frothy
but now its frothy coffee… well
Fings ain’t what they used t’be
It used to be fun Dad an’ old Mum
paddling down Southend
But now it ain’t done
Never mind chum
Paris is where we spend our outin’s
Grandma tries to shock us all
Doing knees up rock ‘n’ roll
Fings ain’t wot they used t’ be

We used to have stars
Singers who sung a Dixie melody
They’re buying guitars… plinkty plonk
Backing their selves wiv th(f)ree chords only
Once we’d dance from 12 to 3
I’ve got news for Elvis P
Fings ain’t what they used taaa
There’s a lot we used taaa
Fings ain’t what they used taa beeeee

The song was the title song of “play with music”, (as opposed to a “musical”), set in the East End of London.   The plays Dramatis Personae included a selection of low-life characters: gamblers, spivs (a sort of petty criminal, who dealt in stolen or black market goods of questionable authenticity during the war and 1950′s), prostitutes, Teddy boys & girls (snappily dressed young boys and girls who belonged to a subculture associated with the introduction of American Rock and Roll music in 1950′s Britain … interestingly, the first group in the UK to identify themselves as “teenagers” – less salubrious is the fact that they often formed gangs which became involved in violent conflicts with other gangs and with immigrant groups) …  and some police who were “not-too-honest”.

Because of its setting, the dialogue was peppered with Cockney Rhyming slang, and a “dictionary” had to be printed in the programme.  Despite this little handicap it successfully transferred from a theater in East London to the Garrick Theater in London’s West End where it enjoyed a two year run.

The music and lyrics for the songs were written by Lionel Bart.  Apparently the title song  was the only number in the show that was in any way memorable, although the lyrics had to be bowdlerized to make it suitable for general release  as a record.

So what dragged this piece of flotsam and jetsam from my youth into the foreground of my mind on Monday evening?

Svetlana suggested going to our local “Palais”, (the Kino Rossiya – or “Russia” Cinema – which hasn’t exactly been turned into a Bowling Alley, it still operates as a Cinema, but where they constructed three lanes in the basement when it was renovated last year).

Now, her friend, Jesse, is an American and I realized straight away that he was going to be a reasonably skilled player – maybe not up to Fred Flintstone’s standard but, all the same, someone who could probably wipe the floor with me – especially when he said that his best score was up around 175 … “He gets scores into three figures!”, I thought to myself with dismay,  (the maximum possible score is 300), and wondered if it might have been a little rash of me to agree.

When we turned up, however, the staff at the Cinema said that they had “a little technical difficulty” and the Bowling Alley wasn’t working.   Maybe the fates had come to my rescue … but, no.  There’s another alley in the city, with sixteen lanes, so we set off to go there instead.

As the kids have never bowled before, I suggested taking two lanes, so that we, (the adults), could play a proper game while they had a try-out … and we could take time to coach them without interfering with the serious business of the evening.

My name was first on the list so I had to bowl the first ball of the evening.  I took a10-ball which felt comfortable in my grip, lined up, fixed the first pin in my sights, took a couple of steps towards the line and released the ball.  To my amazement it went straight as a dye and struck the lead pin and they all collapsed – a Strike!  I wasn’t the only one amazed … the look on Jesse’s face was a picture to behold … he must have been a bit shaken because he only knocked over eight pins on his first ball.

It didn’t last, however.  The next frame – I only managed to knock down nine pins – still, I was in the lead.  The next frame saw me return to my usual form as both balls swerved into the channel at the side of the lane and I achieved a nice round score – Zero.  I descended from first place to third … and was to spend most of the evening in the same position – finally ending the first game with a score of 90.  During the evening I did manage to get another couple couple of strikes, and an odd spare.

I wasn’t totally humiliated, however, as I did manage to get a higher score than the kids, which wasn’t really surprising as it was their first time.  In fact they were doing well, very well considering it was their first time.  Although there were quite a few frames with “null points” – but there were also the odd strike and spare.  We had to explain the complications of the scoring system when Maxim complained that his score wasn’t being displayed – “I got a strike – where is it? why haven’t they put up my 10 points?”

All in all, it was a good evening, and we were all sorry when it came to an end.  Two of the kids are already asking when we can go again.

There was only problem …

I can’t get those two lines of that song out of my head!

The election campaign is now well underway and as we travelled I saw a lot of billboards displaying adverts for different parties.  There were obviously a lot lining the main road out of Bishkek, but I was a little surprised to see so many in the country.  Most had the name of the party and a picture of the party leader, some displayed the number of the party on the ballot paper, (the positions having been allocated by ballot rather than being in alphabetical order), but those for one party simply had its name and logo in white on a bright red background.  These seemed to be in the majority.  Another party had some posters which had a simple message above its name: “Chaos or Order – Decide!”  Maybe it is the cynic in me, but I wondered if that was a wise slogan.  I understand that the implication was “vote for us for Order” but it could easily be read the other way.

I don’t know if this anything to go by, after all it was a very limited sample in a very restricted geographical area, but although I saw placards for about a dozen parties, most of them seemed to be for just a handful: Ata Meken, the SDPK, Ar Namys, BEK, and Respublica.

As we drove through a couple of towns I was intrigued to see that many of the shops had placards for one party or another over their own nameboards: Ata Meken on one shop, and next door the SDPK, BEK, Ar Namys or some other party.  On the way up I got the impression that in one town well over half the shops displayed their political allegiances in this way, but on the way back I checked again and it although there were a lot it was less than half.

The main street in Naryn was bedecked with flags, banners, billboards and posters, but because of roadworks we had to take a detour down a parallel side street past the market and, here, there was definitely a different picture – just three election posters.

It wasn’t just in the towns, either.  There were placards in virtually every village through which we passed and sometimes even in the countryside you would see ribbons or posters attached to trees, telegraph poles or electricity pylons.

Now the road to Naryn is one of the major highways in the country.  There are only a few North-South roads in the country, and most of them are not passable all year round, (for example, the road from Talas down the Chatkal valley in the extreme West of the country, is closed for half the year).  In fact, there are are only two that are open all year round.  The main one, of course, is the Bishkek-Osh road, which crosses the Tuu Ashu pass over the Kyrgyz Range to the Suusamyr plain and then over another mountain pass to the Toktogul reservoir after which it follows the course of the Naryn River into the Ferghana valley.  The other is known as the Bishkek-Torugart Road, (which passes through Naryn en route), and serves as the main corridor for carrying Chinese goods through the country to Bishkek’s Dordoi Bazaar, (Dordoi is Central Asia’s larges bazaar – not Kashgar), and beyond.  As such it is a major trade route in the spirit of the Great Silk Road, (of which it once a part), and plays a vital role in Kyrgyzstan’s economy.

First of all it heads east, out of Bishkek, along the Chui Valley at the foot of the Kyrgyz Range.  After about a hundred kilometres it enters Boom Gorge, (Shoestring Gorge – so named, according to tradition, because it is so narrow – but there are others which are narrower). The road emerges from the gorge at Balykchy which lies at the Western tip of Lake Issyk Kul before turning south west, past the Orto Tokoi Reservoir, to the market-garden town of Kochkor.

Actually there is a short cut between Boom Gorge and the reservoir over a mountain pass on “new” road that was laid about twenty tears ago – but more about that later.  From Kochor the road climbs steadily to the lofty Dokon Pass which is over 3000 meters above sea level, then descends through one of those gorges that I mentioned to Ottuk where it emerges onto a flattish plain before finally descending, once more, to Naryn.  (From Naryn it crosses another range of mountains, follows another valley South before turning East towards the Torugart Pass and China.)

The Bishkek-Torugart road is currently undergoing renovation.  As a major trade route, in many places it is narrow – just two lanes – with an uneven surface.  According to local regulations, the Chinese lorries are really too heavy for the road surface that was laid several decades ago.  The local answer to that seems to be twofold: carry out work to upgrade the road so that it can cope with the current level of traffic and introduce regulations to enforce that only traffic that matches the current design can enter the country and travel on it.

I am pleased to say that we weren’t really held up by the roadworks but, then, we left early enough in the morning to avoid any major delays and I was glad to have the opportunity to see what they were doing.  They seem to working on short stretches at various points with small gangs of labourers, (navvies), toiling away on their particular stretch of highway – rather than starting at one place and having one large site which then progresses gradually along the route.

One thing did surprise me, however.  It concerns that small of road, about 26km, over a mountain pass between Boom Gorge and the Kochkor valley, thus providing a short cut, avoiding the necessity of having to go all the way up to Balykchy which, in turn, not only saves about an hour on the journey time but also means not having to pay the Issyk Kul Ecological Fee. Now, I have problem with paying an ecological fee as such but there are a couple of things about this particular one that rankles a little bit.  Although I think they are very good questions, I’ll only mention in passing that there has been a lot of controversy over the years about how much is collected? and where it actually goes?  Apart from these questions I am not happy about the basis of the tariff: there is one sum for a moped or motorcycle, another for cars, others for minbuses, buses and lorries.  So far, so food – that’s  OK and seems reasonable – I have no problem with that – but there is a further distinction which seems to me a little more qustionable.  Foreign vehicles are charged more than local vehicles, (and, incidentally, vehicles from Issyk Kul don’t seem to pay anything).  You can imagine how much a Chinese lorry has to pay.  Why?, I ask myself.  If it is an “ecological fee”, then wouldn’t it be better to base the fee on something like engine size instead of the country in which the vehicle is registered.

Anyway, this road is the obvious route for all traffic going between Bishkek and Naryn, or to Torugart and the Chinese border.  Hence all the heavy Chinese lorries carrying goods to the Dordoi Market – as I said, that’s the biggest market in Central Asia, not Kashgar – tend to use it, thus avoiding having to pay the Issyk Kul ecological fee.

However, buses and minibuses are forbidden to use it.  Apparently, shortly after it opened there was an accident in which several people died and that’s one of the reasons given for the prohibition.  Another, at least, so I have been told, is that it has never actually been formally adopted after it was completed.  Apparently, the commission was never gathered together to sign off on the construction and so the road is not technically “on the balance” of the Ministry of Transport.  I suppose that means that it doesn’t officially exist.  Despite that, there are road signs at either end, and also along its length, and the traffic police can often be seen sitting at one or other junction at the ends of the road collecting fines from the divers of minibuses who ignore the prohibition.  What’s more, as part or the project currently underway to improve the Bishkek-Torugart road, this section of “officially non-existent road” is also being widened.

As we drove past the Orto Tokoi reservoir, (we were in a jeep – a Toyota Landcruiser – not a minibus), I noticed that the water level had dropped considerably since the last time had I passed by, two months ago.  Then the water was quite high and near its maximum level.  Tourists are always interested to see trees apparently growing out of the water in the middle of the “lake”.  This time there were no trees with their trunks rising out of the water – they were all high and dry with their ground around their root systems clearly visible.  This isn’t that unusual for the Autumn months.  Orto Tokoi was the first reservoir built by the Soviet Union in Kyrgyzstan and, unlike many of the others that followed, its main purpose was to provide water for irrigation rather than for the generation of electricity.  As a result the water level fluctuates greatly throughout the year and it is usually much lower in the Autumn.  This year, however, it seemed much lower than usual and I couldn’t help thinking of the Toktogul Reservoir which only a year ago was perilously close to being at its lowest permissible level – they thought that they might have to turn the generators off to avoid them being damaged – but is now teetering on its maximum volume of nineteen and a half thousand million tons and they having to release water through safety valves to prevent damage.

One of things I found a little odd was the scenery was still remarkably green for this time of year.  Normally in September the trees at the side of the road are festooned with different colours as the leaves take on their autumn colours and then fall off.  It’s not as dramatic as in New England, but still very colourful and attractive.  Although this year there plenty of shades of yellow, gold, orange and red it struck me as if there were less than in previous years – perhaps this is a feature of the milder weather and a late autumn.

In fact, the weather in Naryn was remarkably mild.  Just a week ago there had been heavy snow which closed several mountain roads and cut off communities, and several shepherds still in the high mountain pastures, (jailoo), had to be rescued by the emergency services.  There are reports that many of the livestock were not so lucky and perished in the sudden extreme weather conditions.  The snowfall had been sufficiently heavy to break branches off some of the trees around the guesthouse, and the staff were still clearing up the debris a week later.   Some of the higher peaks around the town still had a light covering of snow, although the town itself was clear.  It was quite warm, especially in the sun – and I felt overdressed as I had donned lots of extra layers of clothes, just in case.  It’s better to do that – it’s always possible to take a layer off, but it an be really miserable if you haven’t taken enough extra clothing in order to add a layer if the weather is really cold, and in Naryn it can get really cold.  It’s supposed to be the coldest town in the country and temperatures have been known to reach minus forty in winter.  I was, however, very happy that this was not the case this weekend.

This month, being the end of a quarter, there was a fair amount of paperwork to do.  Once that was over and we had discussed the main tasks for the coming month, we tuned our attention to the important things: supper and fact that it’s the accountant’s birthday this week.  Hey, this is Kyrgyzstan and birthdays are important.  We may have had a difficult year, but life goes on and we need to think of the future.  It was obvious that the fact that we had remembered and took the trouble to mark the occasion meant an awful lot to her.

A few weeks ago I wrote about an invitation I had received to attend an exhibition across the border in Kashgar, in China.

I was tempted – very tempted.  It is over ten years since I was last in Kashgar and I have heard much about how the city has changed.  The Chinese are developing much of the city – and demolishing much of the old city in the process.  As well as reading reports on the internet and in the media, I sometimes get comments from clients and those who are returning, (some of them, maybe, after many years but others who have been back and forth repeatedly as Group Leaders or tour guides), who tell me that “it’s changing … maybe for the better, maybe not – who can tell?, Let’s wait and see.”  I recently read a tweet on Twitter: “I was told that my second historical homeland (Kashgar) survive the boom in domestic investment in favor of world tourism.”  Although providing modern amenities might be good for the population and welcomed by some tourists, I am not sure that destroying something like 80% of the old town and transforming the famous Sunday Market isn’t going to be like “killing the goose that laid the golden egg”.

I really enjoyed my previous visits. When I first crossed the Torugart pass from Kyrgyzstan into the Chinese province of Xinjiang, I wasn’t that sure what I would find there.  It wasn’t the first time I had been to China, (if you can count Hong Kong and Macau when they still operated as European colonies), as part of China.  Nor was it the first time that I had visited a communist country … Enver Hoxa was dead already, when I visited Tirana, in Albania, but it was before their revolution and the huge, hollow, monolithic statue of him still stood in the main square and the Party still held court.  On the other hand, Yugoslavia was a series of independent republics when I landed in Montenegro, the Berlin Wall had fallen by the time I made it there and walked Unter den Linden and saw where Churchill Stalin and Truman met for the Potsdam Copnference at the end of the Second World War; the Warsaw Pact had dissolved by the time I got to its birthplace, Prague; The Soviet Union was no more when I walked through Red Square, visited Almaty, Yerevan and, of course, Bishkek.

It was, however, so different from everything else I had experienced … so oriental and yet still a part of Central Asia.  So modern and yet there were elements that were still like being cast back into the Middle Ages.  It was bright and colourful … and yet also drab and dusty, the calm and peacefulness … but also the tension and bustle.  I remember seeing my first “wind devil”; my first (and only) desert; the “photographer’s paradise” of faces and costumes representing different nationalities; the workers gathering outside the main department store to practice tai chi; the massive statue of Chairman Mao in the main square … and so on.

However, I decided not to go because it involved being away from the office for something like ten days, and in the present circumstances I thought that was unwise.

Instead, I decided to send one of my colleagues, Svetlana, who arranges and manages the tours.   She’s young and vibrant, (which should go down with those attending the exhibition), a linguist who speaks fluent English and Russian (well, that is her mother tongue), knows Kyrgyz and has an understanding of German and French, (not Chinese, however, although an interpreter was promised if one was needed), and someone who knows her job well – Kyrgyzstan and tourism, potential and formalities.  I felt that she would do an admirable job representing both the companies and the country as a whole.

Now, to be honest, I am not that keen on exhibitions.  They do offer a wonderful way to promote the country and its potential, the company and our services, but they rarely bring much actual business.  Their main importance lies not on the stand in the exhibition hall but in the networking and activities that surround the event.  I thought that attending the exhibition would not only give us a chance to display ourselves but also give her the chance to contact people in Kashgar and explore some of the places which our clients visit in order to see what the current situation is there.

So, Svetlana gathered herself together … prepared a presentation, packed a laptop and two cameras, several books and notebooks, promotional materials and business cards, found some space in her bag for a change of clothes and made her way to Naryn where she was to meet the rest of the delegation and take the bus to Kashgar.

The first problem that she encountered was the road – which is currently under reconstruction, so there are roadworks everywhere, which meant it took much longer than usual, but once the work is complete, then the road will be much better allowing for a much faster transfer between the highlands of Central Asia and the Mysterious Orient.

She confesses to having mixed feelings about the place.  At first, like for every tourist, everything was strange … no-one seemed to speak English or Russian, and the only maps of the city she could find were in Chinese, which wasn’t much help to her even if she is a linguist by training.  She found the heat and the dust a little oppressive until she got used to it, but fortunately As time passed, however, she had plenty of things to do and found that she was able to settle in become accustomed to the city.

Despite having lots to do, there was still time for Svetlana to take a couple of City Tours … yes, that’s right, a couple … taking in the usual tourist sights: the Abakh Khoja Mausoleum, The Id Kah Mosque and, of course, the Sunday Market.

What she liked most of all was simply wandering and watching.  The young people on their motor scooters – and she amazed at what they carried on them.  The little three wheeled vehicles that seemed to be everywhere.  And, of course, the kids who seemed to be everywhere, cheerfully occupying themselves in a myriad of different ways – playing and  jumping.

Almost everywhere you turn there is something interesting to see – but she noticed in particular the contrast between the old and the new – old buildings being demolished to be replaced by spanking new ones.  And the new buildings rise so quickly.  She saw three floors added in five days to one building that was being constructed near to her hotel.  A picturesque riverside park wasn’t there five months ago, she was told by another member of the delegation.

Things are definitely changing!

She also managed to visit a couple of the more interesting nearby local beauty spots.

One was the remarkable geological feature known as Shipton’s Arch – or is that Shiptons’ Arch.  The place of the apostrophe is an interesting conundrum, almost as interesting as the arch itself.

Known locally as Tushuk Tash, (which means “pierced rock”), is the world’s tallest natural arch and is located not far from Kashgar.  The location is fairly remote and the Guinness Book of World Records dropped the reference to it in some editions because they couldn’t locate it and verify the fact.  Apparently it lies in a different direction out of Kashgar than was originally reported.

It is called Shipton’s Arch after Eric Shipton, a British diplomat who also doubled as a mountaineer and.  In 1940 he was appointed to the post of Consul General in Kashgar, a post he held until 1942, and he also served a second time between 1946 and 1948.  It was during a diplomatic mission from Kashgar to Tashkent in 1942 that he noticed an immense natural arch about 10 miles from the road.  (This is where the apostrophe conundrum comes in … actually, according to account written by his wife, Diana – they both wrote books which included a description of their experiences in China – it was she, who first noticed it.)  He was not able to explore further on that occasion – and it was only in 1947, on his fourth trip through the canyons of the Kara Tagh range searching for the route to the rock formation, that he finally arrived at the rock formation which is now commonly known as “Shipton’s Arch.”

Shipton estimated the height of the arch at “close to 1,000 feet.” – that is, just over 300 meters – and with a span of about 150 feet – that is about 46 meters.  In May 2000, National Geographic organized an expedition to the base of the arch – and they discovered it was actually over 450 meters high – with an opening estimated at just over 365 meters (apparently they haven’t yet managed to measure it accurately).

I never made it and when she told me that she was going, there and I was immensely jealous.  I told her to take lots of photographs – which she did.

Another day she took a car to Lake Karakul, (on the road to Tashkurgan, (Stone City), and the Karakorum Highway into the Hunza valley of Pakistan – although she didn’t have a chance to go all the way, just to the lake itself.  It’s a high mountain lake in a desolate, windswept, treeless basin with snow capped mountains ringing it.

Like me, Svetlana likes the journey as much as the arrival at a place – and she fell in love with the colourful mountains that line the road.

The local community of ethnic Kyrgyz, (the whole region is an autonomous Kyrgyz County.  There are many ethnic Kyrgyz living here dating back to a time when the borders weren’t lined by barbed wire fences and people would come and go), has yurts there during the summer and offer food and accommodation and camel rides for those tourists whose itinerary allows them time to linger a little and experience the majestic beauty of the location and traditional nomadic lifestyle and hospitality.  She managed to astound them as they touted for her business, when she started to converse with them in Kyrgyz.

Unfortunately, Svetlana didn’t have that flexibility as she had to be back in Kashgar to catch the bus home to Naryn.

A long trip, a tiring trip, but a fascinating trip.

Everyone kept telling me to “Come on in, the water is lovely and warm!”

I wasn’t convinced, especially after I had walked over to the water’s edge and dipped my toes into the lapping waves … The name of the lake, Issyk Kul, might mean Warm Lake in Kyrgyz, but that doesn’t really relate to the temperature of the water … more to the fact that the lake never freezes over, even in the depth of winter.

Now the waters of the Mediterranean in July are what I would call warm … this, I kept saying, was decidedly cool.  In fact, however, to be honest, the waters of Issyk Kul wasn’t too bad … but I am not a good swimmer, and I don’t have the body of an Adonis which I like to show off, so the most I was prepared to comprise was a to go for a paddle – up to my knees, but that was about the limit of what I was prepared to do.

Those people that know me, might well be surprised that I was there at all.  Issyk Kul represents the sort of holiday experience which is not exactly my idea of an ideal vacation: sun, sand and sea – well, lake.   It’s not that I mind spending time relaxing on a beach … it’s just that I prefer to travel and see new places.

Since the 1960′s, when the first resorts on the shores of the lake were constructed, it has been a popular summer holiday destination for local people and for visitors from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and parts of Siberia.  Altogether, these visitors represent about 90% of the tourists who visit Kyrgyzstan.  In recent years the number of visitors have risen considerably, but this year we all expected that the number would drop drastically as a result of the political turmoil that we have been experiencing.

According to some figures, the occupancy rate in the resorts of Issyk Kul, up until the middle of July was only 5% … that’s pretty disastrous by any count, and lower by far than the figures which we would normally expect.  The high season doesn’t normally “kick-in” until July … and lasts for just about 40 days … untill the end of August.  As a result, it does not bode well for a region which has to earn enough in such a short space of time to cover their costs for the whole year.

The various resorts have adopted a variety of tactics to try and boost occupancy – and prices have fallen between 30% and 50%

Even so, you can imaging my surprise when I was told that the resort was full for the weekend … we took the last few rooms … and for a while it looked as if they might not be able to accommodate us at all.  It was, after all the weekend, and so lots of people from Bishkek were apparently taking the opportunity for a weekend break.  During the week, I was told, the resort is much quieter.  There were also some Kazakhs and we saw the occasional Russian vehicle as well … so some people are venturing to come to Issyk Kul despite the recent upheavals.

The Mayor of Cholpon Ata, about half way along the northern shore and the centre of the tourist resort zone, is has been making confident announcements in press conferences about how the season will still be a success with lots of visitors … I hope he is right and that it’s not just an example of wishful thinking.

My decision to take a weekend break at the lake was quite sudden.  Some friends and colleagues had got together and organized a trip … and asked if I wanted to go.  They suggested taking the kids.  Now, we had taken a similar weekend last year and they had been asking if we might go again this year.  I wasn’t sure if I would get another chance and, as it happens, Sunday was Andrei’s birthday and it seemed like quite a good idea for a Birthday Treat … so I agreed.

In fact, as we drove there, (and back), we joined long lines of traffic of like minded people going to Issyk Kul, (or returning), for a weekend break.  There were a couple of places where workman were busy resurfacing the road … and I couldn’t help wondering why they waited until the high season to do this instead of a couple of months earlier, or later.   The traffic police were out in force, as is usual during the summer season … but we weren’t stopped once, which is unusual during the summer season, and I put down to Rustam’s good driving.

We had booked into a small resort in Cholpon Ata.  Leaving at Lunchtime on Friday, I had time to do some work in the morning and we arrived in the late afternoon – in time for a quick swim … well, for everyone else, that it … I went for a quick paddle, but supper.

The resort was called “Tree Korona”, Three Crowns, and is quite new,  about three years old, set on one of the bays at the edge of town.  The long  narrow site contains four corpuses with guest rooms, a cafe (which doubles as a disco at night time), a swimming pool, a pier, a children’s playground .. and, of course, a beachfront.   One of things that many of the resorts do really well is to create a colourful display of flowers … as well as the usual display of roses and colourful annuals, outside our particular building they even had decorative cabbages.  For those inspired to try and create a similar display at home, the management even sold seeds..

In some ways it reminded me of a cruise ship, self contained so that it wasn’t necessary to leave the complex, but with the opportunity for taking excursions … not that we really had time, as we were scheduled to leave on Sunday afternoon so that Andrei could get back to his Birthday Party here in Bishkek.

The resort seems to cater mainly for families and there was plenty to occupy the younger children.  Most of our party were older … the adults were quite happy sunning themselves on the beach, going for a swim, diving off the pier, or nibbling away at cherries of other fresh, locally grown, fruit … and, of course, the occasional glass of vodka, cognac or beer, (they were Russian, after all).  The disco worried me a bit … going on until three o’clock in the morning, but the noise didn’t disturb us.

In my hurry on Friday, I forgot to pack a book to read … at the moment I am in the middle of four different books and I pick a different one up depending on my mood at the time.  Fortunately, I did remember to take to my mp3 player … so I was able to listen to a selection of podcasts whilst the others went swimming or occupied themselves in other forms of recreation, like taking out a pedallo.

The jet skis were based on another beach … and we could see the paragliders operating off the beach on the other side of the bay … perhaps, my one regret was that I wasn’t able to give that a go.

The food was OK … As is usual here, it was table d’hôte, set meals, but on the Sunday there was a choice for breakfast – fried eggs or porridge – which is a good sign.  Things are, perhaps, beginning to change.  Some of the portions were a little small but there was always plenty of soup and only one of us really went hungry … but, then, he is very fussy about what he eats, and it was only on the last meal that he couldn’t find something that he liked.

The highlight, in some respects, came at lunchtime on Sunday … when the meal was over the kitchen wheeled out a cake with 19 candles on it.  He’s only 15, but we had forgotten to tell them that, so they decided to play safe … but, being the joker that he is, with a mischievous grin he told them there was one short and so they ran back into the kitchen to find another one.

There was, unfortunately, one bad aspect of the whole weekend … but that was my own fault.  Because I am not used to sunbathing holidays, I made a big mistake and didn’t exactly “slip, slap, slop” – slip on a t-shirt, slap on a hat and slop on the sun cream.  I did wear a shirt … and a hat … but I forgot the power of the sun and even though I had some sun-cream, I forgot to use it.  As a result, my arms and legs are a deep shade of pink and a little sore.  I know, I know, a poor example to set the kids …

John is a consultant who has been working on a project here in Kyrgyzstan, off and on, over the past two. His contract has finally come to an end and he flew out early this morning. From the airport he sent me an SMS to tell me that he was boarding, and to say "goodbye". He finished with the phrase: "Scary Mountains!"In fact, this wasn't the phrase he's been using all week ... that was "Spectacular ... but scary."

Now, if I was looking for a slogan to advertise Kyrgyzstan, then I might well look for something to reflect the mountainous landscape … after all, it is often said that 94% of Kyrgyzstan is mountainous.   This statistic sometimes surprises visitors … especially those who come looking for alpine landscapes with towering craggy peaks, snow covered or otherwise.  Although we have those in abundance here, a lot of the highlands also comprise wide open valleys and flat plateaus with the peaks receding far into the distant horizon.  This doesn’t always match the image of “mountainous” that people carry in their minds.  The logic behind the statistic, however, is simple … anything over 1500 meters above sea level is classified as mountainous – and 94% of the country is higher than this.

Although I might like to use the word “Spectacular”, I’m not sure that I would chose the adjective “Scary”.  So why did he?

Like most consultants here in Kyrgyzstan, John was kept quite busy for most of the time he was here, and he didn't really have much time to get out of Bishkek. He was able to go out for the odd excursion at weekends - to the nearby valleys of Ala Archa or Alamedin, for example. There were occasional seminars or meetings at one of the resorts up on Lake Issyk Kul ... and on a couple of occasions he did manage to take a long weekend and visit a coup0le of more distant spots.We often commented, that there were lots of interesting places in the country and he was missing out on an awful lit being trapped here in the capital for so much of his time. There are lots of places in Kyrgyzstan that I have yet to visit ... and that's after fifteen years. On the other hand, I do get out and about at least once a month, as I travel up to Naryn to visit our guesthouse there ... and for several months, John has said how he would like to tag along and see somewhere different. As this was going to be his last chance to do so, we decided that he should seize the chance and come along on what was going to be, by coincidence, his last weekend in the country.

As it happened, I was already planning to take a couple of other staff and a photographer with me on this particular trip … and so, when Steven, another consultant who has also been here for about two years, and who also complains that he hasn’t really had the chance to see much of the country, asked if he could join us … and also offered to drive one of the vehicles for us … we were more than happy to agree.

We left early on the Friday morning and the first part of the journey followed the River Chui … a wide, gently sloping valley with the mountains making a picturesque backdrop, well in the distance.  The road climbs slowly through the Boom Gorge, (that’s not “Boom” as in English … it’s more like Baum Gorge – and means “Shoestring Gorge”.  It is so named because it is quite narrow in places).  The gentle slope means that by the time you reach Lake Issyk Kul, you have risen about 900 meters to 1900 meters above level, over the 180 kilometers … an average climb of just 1-in-200, (or 0.5% as these things are expressed here).  Still, by the time you reach the lake, you are over the threshold and into the “mountains”, even though the lake itself, is in a long wide basin and the peaks are well in the distance.

Turning off towards Naryn the road climbs and falls more dramatically, and as we passed over the Dolon Pass at just over 3000 meters above Sea Level, both consultants confessed that this was probably the highest they had been in a car.

From there the road descended (with an occasional climb over a little crest) to Naryn which sits astride the Naryn River at about 2300m.  Whilst those of us who had work to get on with did so, the rest went for a walk in the town, before a hearty supper and a good night’s sleep.

So far, so good.  Nothing “scary” here.

The next day we took the road south, over a mountain pass and down past the town of At Bashi …  As I was acting as the “unofficial English Speaking guide” I was passing on little tit-bits of information as we went … which included things like, “this road often gets blocked in bad weather by avalanches” … and over there is a roadside tombstone which marks the grave of people killed in an accident … or “this road is closed to buses and minibuses because there was accident …”,  … which, looking back now, with hindsight, was perhaps not the thing to say … it was all true, and I did tell them other things as well … not just the macabre stuff … but l was laying up problems for the future …  and I was going to regret passing on these three particular snippets of information.

On route we stopped off at the Koshoi Korgon ruins.  Although they are not far off the main road, (in fact they are visible from the main road), I have never actually been there before and I was particularly keen to see them as I had heard there was a new museum built nearby, and I thought it would be interesting … It was interesting, but also a little disappointing as the ruins themselves were fenced off and. like the distant mountain peaks, had to be admired from afar.

After that we continued southwards towards the Chinese border … not that we were going to cross the border – or even to it – we turned off about fifty kilometers short of the border itself, to visit one of my favourite spots in all Kyrgyzstan: the Tash Rabat Caravanserai.

To my amazement, the bridge over the river has finally been repaired … in all the thirteen years I have been going to Tash Rabat, this was the first time we didn’t have to ford the river.  I was impressed, and was almost happy to pay the toll for using the road.  The money raised was apparently being well used.  I wasn’t so happy, however, that in all the chat they forgot to give me a receipt … and that caused problems later on.  More to the point, however, and once again with hindsight, the fact that the road conditions had changed since my last visit should have reminded me that you don’t take things like this for granted.  In this case the road was improved … but … well, that was all in the future.

Basically … everything was fine … everyone was happy … nothing scary here.

So the third and final day of our jaunt dawned.  After a brisk breakfast we set out for Son Kul.  The road followed the valley floor of the Naryn River for ninety kilometers.  We turned right at the Ak Talaa checkpoint and headed north and upwards, past the mausoleum of Taaylik Baatyr, towards the Kurtka Pass … and that’s when it all started to go wrong … or should I say, scary, … or as John put it later: “Spectacular, but scary”.

I wouldn’t say that we ran out of road … but the asphalt ran out … and as we climbed higher and higher on the narrow stone road, turning hairpin bends around which it was often difficult to see if anything was coming in the opposite direction, anxieties began to creep in.   A small but sudden skid brought us close to the edge. That car, coming the other way, is going too fast for these conditions … and it doesn’t matter how safe your driver is … there are always others who can easily cause him (or her) to have an accident … and  … “It’s a long drop!”

In itself, this wasn’t a big problem … the anxieties were more than outweighed by the fantastic scenery and a sumptuous picnic lunch by the lake shore … but anxieties there were.

After lunch, we headed towards the ridge of mountains that ring the lake, and the plateau, and then rose to a pass at over 3300 meters, to cross down to the other side and the Kara Keche coal mine and road home.  The car in front of us pulled up slowly, ground to a halt, and everyone got out to take a look – a look, not at the magnificent scenery, but at the road … or more to the point: where there should have been a road.

At some point in the not too distant past, a small section of road – maybe about eight feet, or just over two meters, had been washed away … and the land on either side of the path that had once been a road was riddled with ditches, pot holes and mud … Oh dear!  Oh dear!!

As it happens, both of our vehicles got over that obstacle … just … and the next wash out … just … and the next … just … and the one after that … just … We managed to get stuck in the mud on one occasion, going neither forwards not backwards until our one free vehicle was able to tow the other one out ….  We crested the pass and began to descend, though more narrow, tight, hairpin bends … with small stones scattering as our wheels ground over them … past the coal mine where two hulking great lorries were sinking slowly into a muddy pond at the foot of a cliff … just how did they get there?  It didn’t matter how slowly we were going, or how careful the driver was … every twist and turn, every bump in the road, bounced and resonated in the passenger compartment … anxiety was growing …

Now, I tend to fairly blasé about this sort of thing … I have traveled this particular road several times in the past … although, to be honest, the last time was four years ago … and if a week is a long time in politics … then four years is the equivalent of an age … and things can change quickly in the mountains …

It was then that we encountered the one thing we were all dreading … especially me as a tour operator … not only was a section of the road away … a bridge was down … there was was no way forward … only back.

Kara Keche is a big, open cast coal mine.  Although there are lots of deposits in Kyrgyzstan, most of them are small and in remote and hard to reach locations … Kara Keche is fairly remote but easy to reach … at least, it  used to be.  I had wondered why the road had been so quiet … in the past we would have passed many a huge Kamaz truck bringing the black stuff down from the mountain … but this time it had been eerily quiet.  No wonder … there was no way a Kamaz truck could cross the river.

There was no way down … just back up the way we had come … adding kilometers and hours to our journey … and we had to face the possibility that we might not make it across the washouts.

Fortunately, our eagle eyed driver spotted a vehicle crossing the fields coming towards us … and so he headed for it … it hit the road and turned up towards the summit before we caught it … so we couldn’t ask … we had no choice … we turned onto the track it had left and headed out over the fields … in the hope that it would bring us back to civilization.

It did.  Thank goodness!

After a long, slow, meandering drive through narrow culverts and blind turns we finally hit the main road … and stopped for a peaceful snack of Manti.

Now, in theory at least, the rest of the journey along the valley of the Kekemeren River should have been quick and easy … but an avalanche put paid to any hopes of that.  We crossed it … just … but it was another heart in the mouth moment …

An encounter with a snake just before we hit the Suusamyr plain slowed us up once more.  There aren’t many snakes in Kyrgyzstan, but some of them are poisonous … and this one writhed and wriggled as it made its way confusedly across the road … Now, why did the snake cross the road?  I have no idea … maybe it was trying to do the same as us … get home before the sun set.

It might have made it.  We didn’t.

We still had to cross one more mountain chain … more hairpin bends, and a tunnel, but the road has been reconstructed and the surface was good.  I wish I could say the same about some of the driving we saw … as we passed two accidents and saw many more potential ones in the making.

I said that I tend to be fairly blasé about these things … I have traveled around Kyrgyzstan over the years and I am used to encountering all sorts of obstacles and hindrances … and so I wasn’t particularly “scared” by anything that happened to us.  Worried, yes – but that was mainly concern about issues like how we would be able to overcome the obstacles and hindrances … and the effect they would have on our planned itinerary and timekeeping … and so on.  I can understand, however, why John found parts of this experience, (in his words), “Spectacular … but scary.”

At least we hadn’t planned to take the Kazarman-Djalal Abad road … but that’s another story.  Somehow, I don’t think John and Steven will be that keen to come with me on that one.

One of the most enjoyable extra curricula activities which I used to participate in when I was a schoolteacher back in Britain, was taking a group ice skating.

Now, I am not a particularly good as an ice-skater.  There is no way that I could perform figure skating, ice-dancing or play in an ice hockey game.  I can, however, stand on my own two legs and can get around the rink … after a fashion.  To be honest, the last time I went skating, however, was over fifteen years ago, so I am well out of practice.

My first trip to a skating rink was when I was about sixteen years old and living in Malvern.  The nearest rink was in Birmingham, almost 100km away, so we didn’t get to go very often – maybe three or four times a year.  One of the local church groups organized the first trip when I was about sixteen and it proved to be a very popular outing, so other follow-up trips were arranged.  As I got older I was co-opted onto the organizing “committee”, although there was nothing really formal about it … one of us ordered the coach whilst the rest of us acted as coordinators in our own church or school, advertising the trip and created lists of those who wanted to go.

Once I left Malvern to go to college, that seemed to be the end of my skating career, such as it was.  Like many children growing up, I undertook a range of activities which were to be abandoned when I became an adult.   A few years later, however, I was teaching in North London and someone suggested running a “class trip” to go ice skating.  In fact, it wasn’t for my class, but as there are rules governing school trips which require that there must be a male adult if the group includes boys, I was asked if I would go along as the “statutory male” and as a reward, I was allowed to invite those in my class to come along.

Once again the nearest rink was some distance from where we were in Southgate, but the trip proved to be a very successful.  We organized several trips, one a term.  As time went by the rules concerning school trips got more and more onerous, but they were pleasant evenings and staff and children saw each other in a different light.

Here in Bishkek there are a couple of ice rinks.  One opened on the outskirts of town last year and I was persuaded by some friends to go and have a look.  I didn’t go on the ice, as it was a cold winter’s day, snow lay on the ground outside, and even inside it was bitterly cold.  The cavernous tent enclosed the rink which is big enough to house a hockey match, with seating all around for spectators, a small cafe and a skate hire, as well as administration offices and so on.  There were quite a few people on the ice but it was nowhere near as crowded as the rinks in Britain.

After the fiasco of the “ski day“, when we were unable to hire skis, I decided that I would take the baseball kids skating as a form of compensation for their disappointment … at least I was sure that we would be able to hire the necessary equipment this time.

They have never been skating, so this was something new and they were excited about for the week before.  As there were six of them, plus me and I felt that I had to have at least one female with us as there were girls in the group, I ordered a minibus rather than try and take taxis, even though the rink was just on the edge of town.  As a result there were spare seats in the bus and I decided to invite some other people from the office and John, a consultant from England who is working here on a project.

We gathered at the appointed time and boarded the minibus, and off we went.  This time I felt that I had to go on the ice, just to show the kids that there was nothing to be afraid of.  As I said, it’s been several years since the last time that I went skating and I realized straight away that I was out of practice.  It didn’t help that the skates were for ice hockey and didn’t have the serrated leading edge that I was used to.  However, I was lucky enough to stay upright all the time and completed several circuits of the rink even if I didn’t stray too far from the barrier around the edge.

John, on the other hand, was not so lucky.  He fell over three times … and on one occasion fell on his thumb, which quickly swelled up and showed signs of bruising.  Fortunately, it wasn’t broken and, although it proved inconvenient and caused him some problems in performing some simple tasks over the next week or so, it healed quickly and counted his blessings as he considered how much worse it could have been.  The thumb is a very important digit and we use it in all sorts of ways, but had it been one of his other fingers then it could have stopped him typing, possibly preventing him from doing a lot of work … if it had been his leg, or his hip, then he could have had much more serious problems.

The kids, however, took everything in their stride.  For absolute beginners, they quickly found their balance and were shooting around and across the center of the rink at breathtaking speeds.  It was a Saturday afternoon, and they weather outside was not particularly nice – although it was raining rather than snowing, so there weren’t many people on the ice and that meant there was plenty of room for them to experiment without risking a major incident or accident.  When they did fall over, they managed to roll with it and were quickly back up on the feet and skating away. I suppose the fact that they had some experience roller skating should have been a help, but I put it down, mainly, to the fearlessness of youth.

As it happens, one of the big differences between skating here and back in Britain some fifteen years ago, was the amount of safety equipment.  Not everyone was wearing shoulder and elbow pads or safety helmets … but there were a lot of them in evidence and whereas I remember seeing the odd skater wearing pads before, I don’t think I can ever remember seeing anyone in a helmet before.

When it was time to gather to return home, it was evident that, just as back home all those years ago, it proved to be a very popular event.  Everyone seemed to really enjoy the excursion and were eager to organize another outing … John also wants to go again … and he thinks we can get some other ex-pats to come along, … so maybe I’ll need to book a bigger bus … and, to be honest, it’s good to get away from the desk and I am quite looking forward to another trip, myself.

Saturday was one of the few days in the year when you wouldn’t have found me in the office.  Well, that’s not quite true -  I arrived, as usual, at six o’clock and spent three hours going through the emails and some of the routine weekend tasks … but at nine o’clock I abandoned the office for a day out.

A few weeks ago we received a notice about a special charity event being organized at Toguz Bulak, one of the local ski resorts.

A number of local organizations, (the Kyrgyz-Japanese Community of Friendship and Cooperation, JICA Alumni Association, Bishkek City Administration, Bishkek Business Club, International Business Council, The Union of Entrepreneurs of Kyrgyzstan and the Kyrgyz Association of Software Development and Service), had got together to organize the event in order to raise money to buy beds for a local children’s hospital which specializes in treating patients with Tuberculosis.

The event was to include competition events, (both skiing and snowboarding), guided walks to some of the interesting places in the vicinity, along with a concert given by a popular local band and lunch.   It was hoped that the event would also act as an illustration of Kyrgyzstan as “a country of winter sports, tourism and recreation”.  Indeed, there are plans to hold the event on an annual basis in the future.

Now, I am not a skier … I have tried it on a couple of occasions – once on a dry ski-slope just north of London with a group of sixth formers when I was a school teacher, and on that occasion I did quite well and enjoyed it very much, and the other time was when I took a holiday with a friend at a ski-resort here in Kyrgyzstan.  On that occasion, I kept falling over and hurting my legs.  I was afraid that I would break my leg and so I gave up and, instead, went walking in the nearby valleys.

Despite that, however, I was very interested to get the notice about the event, for several reasons:

• For once, we were given plenty of advance notice … two and a half weeks, instead of being told that it was going to to happen in the next couple of day – as is, unfortunately, all too common here;
• I don’t often get out of the office and I welcomed the idea of a day out, visiting a spot, near to the capital, which I have never seen before;
• I have a number of foreign visitors here at the moment from Britain, Australia and the States, and although they are not tourists, I thought that they might enjoy the idea of a day out in the mountains;
• the family of “Baseball kids” rarely ever get out of the city, and have never been skiing, so I thought that they would enjoy the opportunity to do both;
• I am always on the lookout for ways of saying a “thank you” to our staff and so invited them to join me;
• The event was to benefit a good cause – a children’s hospital which specializes in treating patients with Tuberculosis … my mother had the disease when I was born, and lost a lung through it, and we were very lucky not to lose her as a result and so I have always had an affinity to support charities working in this area.  (In fact, my mother gave me a natural immunity to the disease and every time I have been tested in order to see if I need an inoculation against Tuberculosis, the doctors have been surprised to see the strength of reaction from my body to the test.)

Not everyone who was invited to go could do so, but even so we managed to put together a party of twenty-one for the outing … me, one of our foreign visitors, thirteen staff members and six of the baseball kids.

When I bought the tickets a week ago, I was asked if I was sure that I wanted that many – maybe there wouldn’t be any snow, (we’ve been experiencing a lot of unseasonably warm weather recently … though, as it turned out we had three days of snow before the event, so there was plenty) and as not all of us were intending to ski, I still liked the idea of taking a day off and going into the mountains

We gathered in the office at nine o’clock and set off.  It was quite slow driving as there had been snow overnight and a fresh layer covered the road.  Apart from these conditions, most of the road was quite good and it was only when we got to the steep rise leading to the ski resort itself that we had to stop and put chains on the wheels of the bus – and we easily ascended to the entrance of the resort.  Some other vehicles, without chains, however, had had problems and were left at the side of the road – the passengers walking the last couple of hundred meters up to the resort.

We collected our badges that entitled us to ride the ski-lift, and eat lunch, and set off to explore the site.

Then we hit the big disappointment … there was no ski equipment available for hire (!), despite the fact that the publicity had said the price included a discount on hire.  I was told that we should have hired it from one of the stores in town – who would have given us a discount on their usual rates.  I remonstrated that it would have been better if we had been told that beforehand … to go back into town now would take at least two hours and by the time we got back the day’s skiing would be almost over.  Fortunately, some of our party had their own skis and snowboards and, as I said, not all of us were planning to ski anyway.  I felt sorry for the children have never skied and would have loved to give it a go … but, they accepted the situation with good grace and, I suppose, that means I’ll have to take them another time.

Although this was a big disappointment, it wasn’t a disaster.  We had enough to do riding the ski lift, walking through the snow, taking photos (some good – some not so good), and warming ourselves up in the cafe, (where the fare was limited but the shashlik was good and the tea was both hot and refreshing).

If they do hold the event again next year – we’ll learn from the experience and be sure to hire skis beforehand.  I hope the organizers also learn and either have equipment available for hire, or at least make sure that their publicity materials make the situation crystal clear.