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Published: October 16th 2005
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Rushing through the early dawn in Kashgar, the motor-bike takes a wrong turn, doubles back and screams to a halt. The driver yells at me frantically, so I get off. Tyres screech and he is gone! Well that was a nice wake-up call... and a free ride! Right from the outset this had the makings of an interesting trip! At the bus station, I managed to scam my way onto the bus (or was I scammed?) by buying a ticket off another passenger. The bus, for my first time in a long time had a good mix of foreigners on board along with a bunch of Tajik women, several Kyrgyz, a couple of Pakistanis and a few Uyghurs. People in this part of the world generally have a few interesting stories and experiences that don't involve banana pancakes and motorbike rides, so I found myself enjoying the good company.
The road out of Kashgar leaves behind the poplar-lined lanes and enters a more arid plain. After a brief stop at a market town, everyone is loaded on and ready. People seem excited and the atmosphere is light. The road is pspectacular, passing through an area of wine red valley walls,
Weapon and victim
the guy in shot fell victim to a rogue watermelon on the bus raging rivers and high in the mountains, white sand dunes. Through some of the more aggressive curves, one poor Tajik man became the victim of a cascade of projectile fruits from the overhead storage, including a water melon, which broke in half as it met him square on the head! He was good humoured about it and we all enjoyed a feed of peaches and watermelon.
Lake Karakul is situated south of Kashgar on the Karakorum Highway on the way to Pakistan. It is very near the border of Tajikistan and has a small community of Kyrgyz people who live in yurts nearby the lake. Horses and goats graze around the settlement area and Beyond the lake, grasslands give way to boulders and the flanks of the mighty peaks of Muztagh-ata (7,546 m). The lake itself is left over from an old glacial moraine and its shores are studded with beautiful granite boulders. The climbing on some of these is superb. I spent a great afternoon searching, puzzling, flailing and then climbing many beautiful boulder problems with friends I met at the lake.
"Kyrgyz Bazaar" is one of the first things you hear when you get to the
Idyllic?
Home sweet home at 3,800m yurts along the lake-front. This is the signal for the local Kyrgyz women to turn up and display their wares in a little custom made bazaar, where they will then sit and push things toward you until it is time to sleep, or you decide to leave... As dinner time approached, out came the flour and water for the beginnings of noodles. It surprised me when, at 3,800 m in the Karakorum, in a small yurt village, a european pasta maker materialised to make spaghetti! That was about the extent of the similarities though... Sleeping in a yurt is a very romantic idea. At the time, piled up with mountains of thick blankets, I couldn’t decide whether it felt more like a cocoon or a tomb?
Outside of the yurts in the morning, horses grazed along the lakefront and little goats with their tinkling bells gave the place a slight swiss flavour.
The area is littered with boulders as far as I could see and with the beautiful setting, I decide to go exploring. I wandered for a day through fields, over ridges, along animal tracks and crossed a frigid glacial river in search of boulders and whatever
"Kyrgyz Bazaar"
Moments later we found ourselves confined to a corner as Kyrgyz women set up the bazaar else caught my interest. In an expansive valley, I found a cluster of small mud buildings on a small river terrace. With a backdrop of meadows and boulders leading to glaciers and high peaks, I could not help but feel belittled and inspired by the whole scene.
I am soon after met by “Kyrgyz Cha”, the friendly Kyrgyz woman who wanted me to walk over the hill with her to have some tea at her place (for a fee of course), and who took a fancy of my climbing shoes and harmonica after trying them out…
Later I meet passing camels, a herd of roaming yaks, families of oversized marmots, and at the end of the day, a stampede of wild horses that raced past me on the lake front in a display of power and speed that left me awed.
I decided to try my luck at the border without a visa. I had heard it would not be possible, and was more interested in checking it out than really optimistic. Hitching to the border, I quickly gained a ride in the back of a ute. Soon I was freezing my nuts off in the cool
air at almost 4,000 m altitude. Everytime the vehicle stopped (which was relatively frequently due to the state of the road and the amount of roadworks), I was ravaged by some fairly large and vicious mosquitoes!
The border post, as expected with Chinese officialdom was no place for a westerner without the appropriate beauracracy… but it was at least an adventure!
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Ben
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I have to go...
Your travel blog is amazing... I'm planning a trip to Xinjiang right now and you've convinced me to overcome my fears and try to follow your path out to Taxkorgan, or at least as far as I can go. Thank you for your pictures most of all.