Kyrgyzstan to Pakistan: Solace By Cycle
By Kyle Dempster
Loading ...
Equanimity is typically not the emotion experienced during the planning and execution of a several month journey through Kyrgyzstan, China, and Pakistan. But during the spring of 2011 it was the sentiment that I desired most.
I got the phone call that Garrett had died in an avalanche at 5am on March 27th. Only a few days prior, my good friend Mitch unexpectedly put a gun to his head and killed himself. The spring of 2011 hit an all time depressing low when my girlfriend, Jewell Lund, fell nearly a thousand feet down a narrow couloir on the northwest face of the Pfeifferhorn. She and a friend were trying to ski the extremely steep vein of snow when Jewell slipped on ice and rag-dolled over two cliff bands. Her helmet saved her life but a severe concussion and her broken radius-ulna inhibited her from joining me on our summer adventure of bike touring and climbing through Asia.
I even doubted the appropriateness of going on the multi-month adventure. Work at the coffee shop I co-own in Salt Lake City was at an all time high. I felt more comfortable paying bills, managing employees, fixing broken appliances, doing building remodels, and making mochas than I did climbing on stone and ice. Even hiking through the mountains felt unfamiliar. On days I was able to make it out into the Wasatch mountains I felt displaced, my mind often focusing on my business or the recent events of friends and loved ones. Life felt chaotic. While on a hike one spring day, I tripped over a small rock and fell to my knees. Nature feels so foreign to my soul. My life needs to slow down. I must go to Asia, I thought.
-
A bicycle, a BOB trailer, and the equipment that would be support me for three months through three countries of climbing, cycling, and loving life! Tons of psych!
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00059.jpg
la
-
My third day in Kyrgyzstan and I’d already rode 100kl, hiked for two days, and gained over 9,000ft since my plane had landed. I hoped to solo the 1976 Barber route on peak Free Korea (behind me) in Ala-Archa National Park. But instead I got sick and decided against it. I had to adopt a slower and healthier pace, I thought to myself. Already I missed Jewell.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00207.jpg
la
-
Nearly everyone I passed on the hike into and out of Ala-Archa National Park was from Russia and were heading into the park in order to acclimate for an attempt at the high altitude slogs on Peak Lennin or Pobeda, also in Kyrgyzstan. Everyone carried HUGE packs and wore tight beautifully colored lycra tights. I was pretty jealous of this guy’s purplish-pink tights. Maybe Outdoor Research could help out there?
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00226.jpg
la
-
What the hell, another cyclist? Yes, and training for a triathlon later in the year in his hometown of Moscow. Again, I felt inadequately dressed.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00318.jpg
la
-
Getting a bit further away from the main roads and bigger cities. The Kara-Koo mountains lie to the south of lake Issuk-Kul and are largely unexplored by foreign climbers.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00354.jpg
la
-
Leaving Karakol city and heading into the valley that would lead to peak Djigit. It was a one day ride on disintegrating payment, that turned to dirt, and eventually became impossible on bicycle. I locked my bike and trailer to a tree, walked for two days to the base of the mountain, soloed a 1600ft mixed ice and snow route on the north face, and then returned to Karakol. Riding back down into Karakol the entire process had a magnificently simplistic feel to it.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00442.jpg
la
-
The north face of peak Djigit. I soloed a new 1600ft mixed ice and snow line on the right side of the face and returned to base camp in about 15hrs.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00486.jpg
la
-
A close up of what I anticipated as the crux passage on Djigit. I climbed the narrow ice vein on the right hand side.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00492.jpg
la
-
Looking down from about half away up the route.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00508.jpg
la
-
Miles and miles of mountains. Over 90% of Kyrgyzstan is mountainous and offers endless years of exploration for future climbers.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00522.jpg
la
-
While riding off road looking for granite boulders in the Ak-Bulung valley, I was confronted by three ferocious dogs that were not happy about my presence. A gentleman came running over a nearby hill and to my relief quieted his dogs. He invited me for lunch and vodka and that eventually evolved to dinner and me spending the night.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00610.jpg
la
-
Day 1 of 3 on the 3000m climb up to Chon-Ashu pass (3822m). Crossing the pass and descending down the other side to the abandoned mining town of Inylchek was a scary realization of the solitude that would occupy me for the next couple of weeks.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00583-e1323202914421.jpg
la
-
Near to the top of Chon-Ashu pass. Looking back down at some of the switch-backs that had been common during the 3000m climb from Karakol.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00648-e1323202901998.jpg
la
-
The ‘welcome’ sign for the abandoned mining town of Inylchek.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00668.jpg
la
-
An abandoned apartment building in ghost town of Inylchek. Before the collapse of the Soviet Union nearly 6,000 people lived in the town and mined the nearby hillsides for tin. After the collapse people were no longer interested in mining the low-grade tin and so the town was almost completely abandoned. All that remains is a military checkpoint and a few families that barely sustain themselves. The ‘town’ is located approximately 80kl from China and is the last place that I would see people for the following eight days.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00703-e1323202873356.jpg
la
-
Remnants of a Marco Polo sheep that was likely killed by a wolf then cleaned up by eagles and vultures. I saw many carcasses of ibex and Marco Polo during the eight day journey out the Uch-Kul valley.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00826-e1323202857765.jpg
la
-
Finally back to a road after eight days of pushing, carrying, and small bits of riding while I made my way through the remote Uch-Kul valley. I saw plenty of eagles, wolves, ibex, Marco Polo, bears, and marmots, but no humans. This road would take me to the Kara-Say military checkpoint, where there was nothing, and then onward to Naryn where after two and half weeks I could take a hot shower and reload on groceries.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00859.jpg
la
-
The military checkpoint at Kara-Say and a few homes off in the distance. I was told that I would be able to buy small amounts of food at the checkpoint and they were right. My options were naan, a very simple candy bar, vodka, and cigarettes. I bought them out of candy bars, two loaves of naan, and one bottle of vodka. I had also arranged with a resident of Kara-Say to take me over to the foot of the peak in the background so that I could have a rest day from the bicycle and do some climbing. I tried to wake the gentlemen at 4am to begin the horse ride but he had stayed up until 1 or 2 drinking copious amounts of vodka and he wouldn’t move. I instead got on my bicycle and road off toward the Naryn river valley.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00910-e1323202844953.jpg
la
-
The Naryn river valley and some sketchy single track.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00946.jpg
la
-
It’s hard work pushing a bicycle through the mountains but the rewards are well worth it.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC00963.jpg
la
-
Most of the time I navigated using some topographical maps that were written in Russian and by simply asking people where I was and what to expect, regarding road quality, on the direction ahead. I found the country to be mostly void of English, which was nice but made understanding what to expect rather difficult.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01025-e1323202827653.jpg
la
-
I think Kyrgyzstan might have Montana beat when it comes to ‘big-sky’. Stopping to take in the light.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01063-e1323202806266.jpg
la
-
Racking up to climb the rocky tower behind me. When I soloed these peaks I would usually wear a harness and tie in with one end of a 7mmx60m rope. Then I’d coil the rope into the backpack that I would climb with. For protection I brought with me a set of stoppers, four cams, and three ice screws. If I ever got into trouble I could place a piece of gear and either clip myself to it, or build an anchor and self belay past a difficult section.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01080.jpg
la
-
Squiggly, lung crushing, leg cramping terrain.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01158.jpg
la
-
One of the coolest places I rode. The Western Kokshall Too mountains are a subset of the larger Tien Shan range that make up the border with China. A very long, very remote ride. On my way out there I was passed by a bus load of Slovenians that stopped and chatted with me for a moment. They told me they were heading to the same base camp and I got excited about the prospect of maybe teaming up with them and climbing something together. On the river crossing that was necessary to get out to the range, their bus got stuck and was unable to cross. Very easily I ferried my bicycle, trailer, and gear across the river and made it to base camp where I was alone for five days.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01179.jpg
la
-
The very beautiful Western Kokshall Too mountains
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01200-e1323204833884.jpg
la
-
A radical tent site below the east face of Kyzyl Asker. Notice the storm clouds building.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01250.jpg
la
-
And notice the storm clouds delivering. I was sort of happy in a way that the weather went to shit. Kyzyl Asker certainly intimidated me and after it snowed I was pretty much forced back onto the bicycle, because of a dwindling food supply, and began making my way to China and Pakistan and friends Kelly Cordes and Hayden Kennedy.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01267-e1323202746411.jpg
la
-
Mud = agony.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01272-e1323202730206.jpg
la
-
All the pretty horses.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC01317-e1323204846719.jpg
la
-
Chinese truck drivers. The first Chinese guys that I ran into on my way to Kashgar. I hadn’t been in a town in over two and half weeks and the watermelon and naan bread they gave me were graciously accepted.
absoluteCenter
http://www.outdoorresearchverticulture.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/DSC013431-e1323202699311.jpg
la
The plan, at least on paper, seemed simple. Assemble my bicycle and trailer at the Manas airport in Bishkek Kyrgyzstan. Spend the next six weeks, solo and self sufficient, riding around the country exploring and climbing mountains and rock faces that inspired me. Then, ride through western China crossing over the Khunjerab pass at 15,397ft, into Pakistan and meet up with Coloradans Kelly Cordes and Hayden Kennedy. And finally, spend another six weeks climbing on the Charakusa glacier attempting some of the mighty peaks of the Karakoram. My psych for the adventure was palpable, my fears and hesitations were hidden and piled under a heavy blanket of intense stress.
During the first 10 days of the journey I pedaled hard. I woke up early. I ate lunch with one hand and steered my bike with the other. Often times I rode well into the evening. Kyrgyzstan was flying past me; I was physically there but didn’t see it. I had places to go, people to see, or at least so I thought. Pedal harder. Charge! I parked and locked my bike at the end of the road in Ala-Archa national park. In a heavy rain I packed my backpack and hiked for two days to Ratsek refuge at the base of the steep and icy Peak Free Korea (15,551ft). I had goals, and one of them was to climb the 1976 Barber route. Then things went wrong, as they had so often this year, and I got sick. But sickness didn’t matter; I had to experience ALL of Kyrgyzstan. I repacked my trailer, loaded up my panniers, and took off on a 430kl ride to Karakol.
The most important lesson I learned those first couple weeks in Kyrgyzstan, and quite possibly the essential education from my summer, was how to slow down. I thank the bike for that. ‘Round and ‘round the pedals went. Clouds over lake Issuk-Kul hovered in the immense sky, drowning in a vibrant orange and red late in the day. Thoughts drifted through my mind but I didn’t focus on any of them. There was time to think on that ride to Karakol but I just observed. Time away from a chaotic life, alone and in nature, was slowing me down, curing me. I stopped more to chat with people, observed their lives, and took pictures of things that created wonder within. I felt deep breath returning to my soul.
After a shower and grocery resupply in Karakol, I began a long climb on the bike into the Tersky Alatau range. A peak there, Djigit (16,961ft), had sparked my interest when I found a photo of it on Google Earth some months before. When the road became impassible on bike I locked it to a tree and hiked two days to the base of Djigit. The mountain looked like a mini Swiss Eiger. Peak Djigit was amazing! From a pointy summit the mountain triangled downward and contained pockets of snow, steep quartzite outcroppings, and trickles of rotten looking ice. After my first day of rest in nearly three weeks, I went for it.
Continue to Page Two»
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
la
