Boz-Uii on Song Kul at Sunset
Kyrgyzstan’s climate is similar to that of the Northern Mid-West. The summers are long and warm, sometimes hot but rarely unbearable. Spring and fall are dramatic seasons of change and pass fairly quickly. Winter is long and cold. Conditions occasionally attain severity of Arctic proportions. Winter usually arrives in October and settles in during November.
I had about 10 days set aside for the first portion of my rural language and cultural emersion. To make the most of the time, I decided to stay somewhere high and pretty. Song Kul, a large lake situated between large mountain ridges was suggested to me by the good people at CBT who suggest these sorts of things. Song Kul is typical of many adventure-tourism destinations in that it is famous for being outstandingly pristine and remote. This pristine remoteness is not to be missed, so anyone in the area with the means makes it a point to get there for a visit and soak in the isolated beauty for herself. Most of the National Parks in the West of the US present a similar paradox. Also like many National Parks, Song Kul often seems to be a “preserve” in name only. True, there is no heavy industry, but locals use the entire preserve to graze herds. The lake supports a few local fisherman. Cars and trucks traverse the preserve to move people, goods and dismantled yurts, boz-uii in Kyrgyz. CBT has 5 or 6 member families living on the Northeast shore of the lake. Most could accommodate about a dozen tourists on a given night. In peak tourist season in Kyrgyzstan, the wilderness leans heavy toward industrious rustic retreat.
Fortunately, I arrived late enough in the season that relatively few tourists, whether from Bishkek or abroad, ventured a visit.
With so much time on my hands for a single location, I elected to arrive on horseback. I have had lots of opportunities to backpack, and I thought I would try something different this time. After a day wasted running back to Bishkek to work on (or around) visa issues, we set off. My guide was Altynbek. He graduated a little over a year ago from the National Univerity in Naryn. During the tourist season he stayed busy and did pretty well for himself as an out-and-easygoing guide with a solid command of English. But before winter, he would be moving to Bishkek where a competitive and arduous job search awaited him. On a side note, this country has amazing potential for skiing, and it would help even out the irregularities of the tourist season, but the necessary investments in infrastructure are just not there.
We got a ride to a town higher in the mountains and closer to Song Kul than Koch Kor, the tourist starting point in the area. There we ate lunch and rented horses. Then we rode.
We followed a valley drainage up into the hills. The climb was gradual and for the first couple of hours we took a road. We passed farms and pasturelands pretty much constantly. Now and then we met traffic coming the other way: a kid walking toward town, an old man on a donkey-drawn cart, a Shepard moving his flock, a herder on horseback, meandering cows and a gigantic Soviet truck taking people and supplies high into the hills.
It was very picturesque. We didn’t talk much in good cowboy fashion. Altynbek knew that I was trying to keep to Kyrgyz, and my deficiencies for making lazy yet dynamic conversation were painfully clear from the start. So most of the time we said nothing. Then when I asked him about a word or a phrase we launched into a half-hour long session of new words and phrases. It was overwhelming, but being otherwise indisposed, I was surprised at how much of it stuck.
Sticking to Kyrgyz was a pain and certainly undercut most any sort of potential for comradeship between us (that and the fact that I was another tourist). We could have jabbered back and forth in English about this or that, or maybe in Russian, but instead we just kept it to the basic necessities of communication. These are few and far between when the only real task is to follow the other horse.
We left the river valley for a ridge that took us higher into the mountains. Then we skirted mountainsides until we came to a sort of mid-way point on a pass that was fairly flat. Even high, in parts of the mountains that looked like they could be nothing but cold, lonely and generally foreboding all winter, there were houses and animal pens. Each was of a different size. As with most truly functional rural agricultural dwellings, everything was in a state of falling a part and being repaired or abandoned. Some places looked like they could only hold a durable couple. Others were large enough that a small family and perhaps a relative or two in need of some employment could live comfortably. I was surprised to see year round dwellings at 10,000 ft. Until recently this area was pure jailuu, summer pasture. The people and the livestock moved to warmer, safer, more nutritious locations for the winter.
Our first night we stayed with a couple and a Russian helper in his 50s or 60s. Most Russians stick to the capital and a couple of larger town in the north. To see one in such a rural area, and living with a Kyrgyz family is unusual. They had a permanent dwelling of metal and concrete about 200 yards from their cluster of boz-uii. When we arrived I was greeted with a “hello!” A Belgian couple I had briefly met in Bishkek at my host-family’s guest house greeted me. It’s a small small world on a lesser-developed country’s tourism circuit.
First Night's Locale
We ate well. We sang songs. Being a camp counselor really came in handy for that. Then we went to bed. Their guide was a 21 year old female from the same university and department Altynbek had graduated.
So they chatted and messed around with each other’s cell phones long into the night. With less money and less space and no traditions of “privacy” or “personal space” people in Kyrgyzstan are much more inclined to go about their business in a shared space. Rather than the burden being on the active to rein it in when others are trying to engage in a peaceful activity, the presumption is that sleeper/reader/quiet activity-er will adjust. This runs pretty much complete against every notion of fundamental consideration for others held by cultures from Europe and North America. Its one of those cultural differences that you know is relative and all about perception, but is tough to swallow when you want to go to sleep.
The next day we got up and over the pass and headed down to Song Kul. By this point the horses were happy to be headed down hill for a change and I was more comfortable. So we ran a lot. That was exhilarating. And, boy, do I have a ways to go before being comfortable on a horse (physically or mentally).
We reached the lake on its Northwest shore. We stopped for tea and lunch with a couple of families that herded in that area. Shortly after we pulled up all the men came one by one out of the boz-uii. By the time we left many could barely stand. Fortunately there were donkeys to lean on.
The most hilarious character was an older man who traveled around the lake in his old Lada and sold basic goods to the people that lived there. The basic goods were mostly cigarettes and vodka for the men, candy for the kids and vegetable oil and vegetables to the wives. He was the first person in the area to really open up to me. It was nice to have a local really want to have a conversation with you. This silver cloud had a dark lining. He was wasted so whatever I might have otherwise been able to understand was obscured beyond even Altynbek’s ability to understand. It is my understanding, however, that if I stay in Koch Kor that I can stay with him. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
Altynbek and the Merry Gentleman Trader
We ran the last 3 kilometers in a little more than an hour. The horses were just as pleased with the flat as they had been with the downward slop.
The highlight of all this was seeing horses on the open range in such a breathtaking location. They just look at home up there, over here in Central Asia. It’s really gorgeous. Anyone who harbors distaste for horseback riding should give it a shot in big country of dry grass on rolling hills at the feet of snowy peaks beneath an expansive open sky. When those planets align, tshe day is auspicious for horse riding.
In conclusion, horses are indeed more photogenic than sheep
As we headed into our final destination the sun disappeared and the wind picked up.
