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Published: January 1st 2018
FACES OF KYRGYZSTAN- Mr Zee pulls up at the Tajikistan/ Kyrgyzstan border post and I run down the Tajik side for one last look...a river of grey moraine winding down a mountain of maroon, pink, orange and green...white meringue snow from the head of the peak hovering behind...the giant horned goat preparing to leap...my heart not sure whether I'm needing more oxygen at high altitude or just more time.
Wave beckoning me come now...half running up the hill...panting for eternity as armed border guards contemplate whether they will commence to process our entry or continue chatting among themselves...spitting every few minutes as if spittle was another sentence.
After an hour of spitting and lounging they let us through...not before grilling me whether I got my wrist watch in China...and what was I doing there anyway...the drug-sniffing Cocker Spaniel giving us the 1,2,3...it's minder swinging his rifle as the dog seeking affection climbs his knee.
Sometimes when you are just a dancer...eyes glaze over...sometimes they insist on a performance.
But not all were so lucky...the Chinese couple who begged us for help...dropped on the Kyrgyz side by a taxi but afraid to go through as with single entry
visas they could not return...still sitting forlornly outside the border gate waiting for that further taxi we felt would never come.
We are anything but despondent...cheerful...chuckling ...excited for whatever comes.
For we are the Kool Kids...optimism our pendant ...embracing the adventure... camaraderie with the locals our heartbeat.
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We heard Kyrgyzstan was wealthier than Tajikistan...bigger handouts from the Chinese or World Bank...less yurts.
Less yurts you say as we pass green plains dotted with more yurts than I have seen in my life.
Suppose they'll say their Barbie dolls are better dressed too.
But from my observation Barbie was just as gorgeous...and Ken had the same familiar hairdo.
So much for categorisation.
The people were just as friendly too.
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Sary Mogol Enter the village of Sary Mogol...nestling in a corridor of the snow covered Trans-Alay Ranges...the Eastern Pamir time to search for a bed.
The guesthouse where the complaining three are staying is full...phew...checking out three other guesthouses...one with rooms as big as half-courts with a sauna...but one of the Kool Kids refuses to use the outside squat...this dancer assigned to go
with Shane, Ali and Mr Zee to check out others.
Found one...giggling hysterically as Jengish contacted to bring the others.
Me appointed homestay guide...showing the delights of the digs we have chosen...could tell I was pleased.
Three large rooms with mattresses on the floor...one room for Dave & MJ...one for Naddya...one for Denise & I...long sunroom for Shane and our meals...views of the mountains...good internet access...walk through bushes around a building...opening a battered wooden door...more triumph as I show a squat toilet.....Shane, Ali, Mr Zee and I unable to curb our giggles as smiles disappearing..."It's better than the previous one" I say!
MJ's expression was priceless!
Then showing the shower room with hot water from 5pm when electricity turned on...and the sparkling clean western toilet in the small room beside!!!
Smiles returning to ecstasy...Jengish enjoying our joke.
These digs were so good we booked it for two nights and only Denise and I (with Ali & Mr Zee) stayed at the yurt camp on the slopes of Lenin Peak the following night.
Comfort is nice...but our night in a yurt on Lenin Peak was an absolute highlight of the trip for us!
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Dancing with donkeys I walk to the mosque on the hill...smiling at the mountains from a bridge over a rushing stream...then down the slope...the sound of the water with the mountains beyond...my soul filled with the thrill that only solitude in remote places can bring.
Then I saw it.
Three capped boys on the bridge giggling as they look down at me...two donkeys careering down...two boys on one...one on the other...mischief in their eyes as they wriggle about.
I will never forget their impish faces...spent about 15 minutes with them...then riding along the rushing stream to who knows whence.
I walk towards the mountains past our homestay...sunset to my right...houses to my left...empty fields of green to Lenin Peak and its cohorts in front.
Shane and the Kool Kids (Naddya, Dave & Merry Jo and Denise & I) on cushions around a low table at our homestay...happy and content is an understatement.
But blow me over with a feather...so content they choose to forego the night in yurts on Lenin Peak to stay here!!!
All except the Dancing Ones...and we ate and sleep well at the homestay
by the way.
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Horse Fighting Heading to Lenin Peak today...but first some markets...shoes, clothes, general this and that...no souvenirs or bric-a-brac...not sure why but I went in anyway.
Ali says there is an animal market further up...so only Ali, Mr Zee and I head up...a truck with cattle and two men shaking hands in the back...an enclosure with sheep...a horse leaning against a wall...some goats...men chatting...holding leads as they sit waiting for a sale opportunity...crowd more animated around the truck...the men in the back shaking hands vigorously now. Does that mean they have agreed on a price?
But there is another who is demanding everyone's attention.
A man rides his black horse into the crowd...rears onto its hind legs...its cocky rider acknowledging the crowd...grinning...cantering away then back again...still grinning...Ali and Mr Zee walking away...me transfixed...intrigued for more.
He rides to a small mound...rears up again...can't pull my camera out fast enough...why is it so often the best pics get away?
A man on a white horse ambles towards them...the cocky rider smiling...wheeling around each other like dogs on heat...then the black horse attacks the white one...the black horse rearing
onto the back of the white...the riders' eyes locked grinning...spinning their horses trying to get a clean shot to bite the other...a man standing next to them not flinching as if he cannot see what is happening.
I return to the Dancing and Silver cars panting...we may be at 3,000m but it's not from lack of oxygen.
I've just witnessed horse fighting and my heart is racing...pumping hard!
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Lenin Peak At 7,134m this monster is the second highest in Kyrgyzstan...also known as Ibn Sina Peak...the President wanting to name it Manas Peak after a local hero...but there is already a Manas Peak...so the Soviet name of Lenin Peak still holds sway today.
Across a red mud river...zipping along the dirt road past blisters of green hills...winding past alpine lakes of vivid blues...black yaks enquiring...the Dancing Car and the Silver car winding and climbing...stopping here and there 'cos too beautiful to not stop.
Then a blue octopus lake with a bunch of yurts beyond...sitting in the lap of steep green hills that go on and on...into the arms of the necklace of monoliths of the Trans Alay Ranges. Touching shoulders with
his brothers or is it sisters...one a tad taller...Lenin Peak.
The narrow track above the edge of the lake leading us there.
Two yurt encampments and a long red shipping container.
As Denise and I were the only ones staying in yurts we have a choice. Yurt No. 3 for us and will bring in two single beds...luxury guaranteed...bring it on.
Some men and one woman throw a heavy canvas embroidered cover over the round wooden frame...lash down with ropes...tribal rugs covering the grass floor...a stove in the middle...two single beds...the others now regretting their choice not to stay here...obvious the yurts are luxurious...and when the stove is lit we are going to be warm and snug up here.
We contemplate a horse ride but there is only one horse...the other horses off with trekkers. Where to? Just over there. OK. Ends up I am first. Hop on surprised how stiff I am. What? He's going to lead me? Did learn to ride when I was four you know...but hey I haven't ridden for years...not excited about being led by a youth walking ahead.
But in some ways it probably turned out for the
best he did. 'Cos this was no carnival horse ride. He led me around the whole lake for over an hour...through water...up the sides of 70 degree hills...through swampy and boggy ground...the horse more like a mountain goat...me sometimes hanging on for dear life...the youth ambling ahead with headphones in a world of his own.
After lunch in the shipping container Jengish drives Shane, Naddya, Dave & Merry Jo to their cosy homestay in Sary Mogol leaving the Dancing Ones, Ali & Mr Zee on the slopes of Lenin Peak...silence descending...an impish wind springing...our hearts singing with the wonderment of it all.
Late afternoon walk over the hills towards base camp...lakes dotted around us...cavernous river gorge...the icy wind slicing through the zippers in our jackets...trying to push us over the edge...but nay t'is as if the sound of music is heading towards us on our ledge.
Two trekkers are climbing towards us...one in a Tyrolean hat wearing shorts...two Swiss boys we called them...its freezing out here and you're wearing shorts!
And that's how we met the Italians Ivan and Francesco...the 4WD companions of the Travelling Fraggles, Travelbloggers Marie & Emma we had met at Karakul in
the Tajikistan High Pamir...the 4WD that was held up by the semi trailer that jack-knifed on the cliff road the rear wheels hanging over the edge over the Pamir River while the army cut into the cliff to let our new friends through.
And as luck has it...Ivan & Francesco have emailed the pics for me to share.
Check out their sensational pics in this blog...if you dare.
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Hot bread, hot heads & its hot in the yurt while snow falls here I planned to photograph the Milky Way...been pulsating for several nights since Alichor...but this bird has lost the worm...its freezing up here...the sunset lighting up the hills like a projector casting a red glow...then the wind nymphs pulling grey clouds like a sheet over the sky.
Guess I'll enjoy the company...let Lenin Peak yurt camp be my thrall.
Our stove stoked with coal...hard men of the Pamir joining us in our yurt for a chat and a heart to heart...massaging our imagination as they warm their hands...stories that only wild winds and horsemen from the High Pamir can bring.
We adjourn for dinner in the shipping container...peoples
of the World like a gaggle sharing stories of the road and a meal.
But our hostess knows how to change geese to swans...excitement building as she bakes bread in front of us...loaf after loaf consumed piping hot...with apricot or cherry jam...like seagulls attacking chips...we ate the lot.
The wind sings wild songs of the Pamir as we return to our yurt...inside like a sauna until the flap opened and more coal stoked in the oven to last us the night.
We lie on our beds dreaming of the wonderful weeks of our roadtrip from Dushanbe in Tajikistan until we reached here...with the Tajik Outlaws...the Kool Kids...the Bulgarians...the Travel Camel...our guide Ali and drivers Mr Zee, Jengish & Kudash...even the complaining three.
Hugging cliff roads as the Dancing Car rocked...laughing down at the Panj River as it spat back...traversing the altiplano...high altitude deserts and lakes of every shade of green and blue...mountain after mountain like oil paintings to watercolours...the generosity of Tajik and Krygyz folk in homestays along the way...the Milky Way pulsating over our heads at night.
Where did I end up?
In a yurt on Lenin Peak in Kyrgyzstan...with my true love...snow
falling around us...icy wind ripping...vistas to die for...hospitable folk of the High Pamir serving hot bread.
Ah...the serenity.
No better place we'd rather be.
Relax & Enjoy,
Dancing Dave
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Another flood of memories
Dangerous Dave here.....fantastic photos as I once again experienced that great journey.....so many wonderful memories.