Breathtaking Kyrgyzstan! (page 3 of 16)

Stunning—Attila returns after fifteen centuries (and a gender transition). Continuing eastward with their conquests, this time backed by Perju, known as the light cavalry, and Lecs’ heavy artillery, they laugh off the skirmishes on the supply column.

This morning, the real adventure begins—we pick up the car!

The rental company, chosen after comparing reviews and prices online, is just a short walk from the hotel, so we head there on foot.

The check-in process takes a while—card payment, cash deposit for the security, and a long list of dos and don’ts.

The main things to remember: never exceed 130 kilometers per hour (I guess that’s when a fine turns into something *much* worse), stick to the roads approved by the rental company, and always carry the vehicle’s registration papers.

Neither the tires nor the windshield are covered by insurance. $100 will be deducted from the deposit if the GPS tracker records any speeding (refunded after a month if no fines are received by the rental company), and the same amount if the car isn’t returned as clean as it was at pickup.

Any questions?

Alright, let’s check out the vehicle!

The RAV4 has 180,000 kilometers on the odometer but has a spotless body and interior.

The only things both parties will photograph are a tiny chip in the windshield and some damage to the left rear.

The real issue? The tires...

I’m not sure they’d pass a French technical inspection, especially the front ones.

We point this out to the rental agent, who digs his fingernail into the tread and declares, “All good!”

Sure, sure—but no driving like a maniac on those rocky roads...

A turn of the key, and off we go through Bishkek toward the east!

The least you can say is that traffic isn’t exactly smooth, and the suburbs seem to go on forever!

This isn’t the Kyrgyzstan of wide-open spaces—it’s the part that’s home to most of the country’s population!

Driving is relatively easy. Kyrgyz driving is way less stressful than Italian driving...

Where were we headed again?

To the Burana Tower!

This 11th-century tower is pretty much the only remnant of Balasagun, a city that’s now vanished.

It stands in the middle of a plain baking in the heat and has undergone some *very* heavy-handed restoration...

Entry to the site is paid, and—almost as if to apologize for the tiny fee—the staff hands us a few pretty stamps along with our tickets.

First souvenirs!

We climb a steep, narrow staircase to the top of the minaret (It’s more the staircase than the view that’s worth it!) before wandering among the tombstones.









Interesting if you’re passing through, but far from a "must-see" in the country.

The short walk worked up our appetite.

One of the many bus shelters dotting the countryside offers shade and benches for a picnic.

We hit the road again toward Chon-Kemin.

Villages become fewer and farther between, and the landscapes start rolling by outside the windshield.



Soon, we pass the village of Kaindy, and the pavement turns into a dirt track.



We wanted to go all the way to the border checkpoint, but it’s already getting late.

We’ll only make it to Jashil Kul Lake (sorry for the stutter) before turning back.







We easily find the guesthouse we booked in the area for the night and settle into a pretty decent room (private bathroom), though the price is way too high for the country.

A quick stroll through the village’s alleys, and it’s dinnertime.



The disorganization is pretty much total.

That’ll be a recurring theme in this country.

Only the family’s kid—tasked with filling our tea glasses—is even remotely efficient. Can’t wait for her to take over from her elders!

The salad and soup are pretty good, but the main course...

Rice drowned in grease, sprinkled with a few carrot pieces and even fewer bits of tough meat that *might* be beef.

At 9 € per person for the homestay meal, the owners are definitely hitting the jackpot!

Unfortunately, only one of the guesthouses we stayed at in the country offered good value for money at the table.

For the rest, when you have the choice, it’s better to eat at a restaurant!

It’s cheaper, better, and you can pick your dishes.

Or just bring your own supplies...

I’m putting you in charge of logistics. I trust you to handle the food like a pro! 😛 ( I’ll let Bruno take care of what’s in the glasses… )

this time backed by Perju the light cavalryman...

Yeah...🤪...actually, Tiger’s version worked just fine for me...😏

Some feedback seems a bit exhausting because people also went to Tajikistan or did multi-day treks.

Hey, I’m picking up on this point. I’ve been to Tajikistan twice about fifteen years ago—things must have changed since then—but my life took a different turn, so I’ve never made it to Kyrgyzstan. For those who’ve seen both, what are the differences? I guess there are more nomads in K., and geographically?

Hi Patrice,

I think Perju, Christian, or Max68 might be able to answer your question.

Hi there, if you know Kyrgyzstan pretty well, I suggest checking out a short video that retraces my journey through Tajikistan. It obviously doesn’t cover the whole country, but it still gives a good idea of its geography, especially the high plateaus of the Pamir region. To keep it short, I’d say Kyrgyzstan has landscapes quite similar to our Alps, while Tajikistan, in its eastern part, is much more desert-like with vast plateaus bordered by towering peaks.

https://youtu.be/ipkIpiZBAxs?si=xnO7h2Sz_iY98dN0

Yesterday's clouds have vanished, so we're setting off in great spirits but still a bit sleepy...



The theine doesn’t seem to have the same effect on us as caffeine—or maybe we just don’t drink enough of it!

Today’s first stop is nearby: the track overlooking the Konorchek Canyon from a distance. This route is rated level 3 in the Ountravela guide, with 5 being the maximum.

We soon leave the quasi-highway that easily leads to the shores of Lake Issyk-Kul for a slightly rougher road.

The dirt and gravel path first winds between beautiful red cliffs.



Then, it climbs toward the mountains, passing a few livestock farms along the way.



Now, we spot the eternal snows dusting the distant peaks while the twisted folds of the Konorchek Canyon reveal themselves at our feet.



We’re completely alone here. The landscape is breathtaking!





Photos don’t do it justice—like so many other spots in this country—but trust me, the sense of infinity is incredible.

Playing it safe, we won’t take the track down to the canyon, which our guide marks as difficult after rain.

A U-turn, some pavement, a few kilometers.

We park at the start of the hike leading to the canyon.



6 kilometers round trip and 200 meters of elevation gain.

On paper, it sounds simple, but there are some rocky sections to scramble up!

Luckily, ropes make the climb easier, though I wouldn’t recommend this hike for those who aren’t very agile.

Suddenly, the trail, which had been following an increasingly narrow gorge, opens up into a vast space dominated by stunning rock formations shaped by time.



It reminds me a bit of the American West—minus the crowds.

There was no one at the top, and not many people down below either...

Back at the Toyota, we hit the highway again toward the large town of Balykchy on the shores of Lake Issyk-Kul.

Wait, what’s with all these cops?

The area is crawling with police, and all the trucks are being told to pull over.

Smells like some bigwig’s visiting, doesn’t it?

We keep a low profile and slip through the flashing lights until we’re out of town.

Phew, lucky they didn’t decide to block cars too!

We’re now staying on the southern shore of Lake Issyk-Kul.

This saltwater lake sits at 1,600 meters above sea level and spans 6,236 km².

Let’s just say it’s not a bathtub—more like an Olympic-sized pool!

A pool where the water hovers around 24°C in summer...

Resorts have sprung up all around it, especially in the north.

Russians and Kazakhs flock here for all-inclusive stays, while the south remains more peaceful.

Well, that’s without counting the Chinese road-building frenzy...

The southern route is currently torn up to make way for a future four-lane highway.

Few stretches are spared, especially the dozens of kilometers between Barskoon and Karakol.

The driver has to dodge construction equipment, crumbling asphalt, and rain-gouged dirt roads.

Just when they think they’re in the clear, another sign announces more roadwork—it’s exhausting!

No time to admire the scenery, no chance to stop for a photo.



Dust clings to the RAV4, and the rear windshield is completely blocked.

Our ordeal ends today in Bokonbaevo, but we still have 130 kilometers of purgatory to cover tomorrow...

Where’s the guesthouse located?

A little further on your right!



That should be it!

I knock on the gate, and a grandmother opens it.

“Booking?” she exclaims in her very limited English.

We nod.

The room is much more rustic than the night before, but there’s still a private bathroom.



The price, however, matches the experience this time.

The woman insists on giving us a liter of kompot poured into a Fanta bottle—I’ll taste it cautiously.

Not bad, a little apple flavor!

My partner tries it too but is less convinced.

Convinced, though, that it’s the cause of his mild *tourista* the next day...

From *tourista* to the bathroom, it’s just one small step—one I happily skip!

A Kyrgyz bathroom is often a blast from the past...

The days when carpets surrounded the toilet and fuzzy covers adorned the seats.



End of the scatological interlude—let’s eat!

While scrolling through Google Maps, I spotted a restaurant that looks promising.

We head there right away.

The building is brand new, filled with tourists, Kyrgyz locals, and Chinese construction bosses.

I order a kuurdak, and my partner goes for a pizza (seems to be all the rage with Kyrgyz folks these days).

I dig into the lamb stew, and suddenly, my childhood flashes before my taste buds.



The melt-in-your-mouth potatoes, the tender meat, the aroma of herbs.

I feel like I’m back at the table with my brother and parents, when dinner was always a stew made from the previous night’s leg of lamb leftovers.

A Proustian madeleine moment if ever there was one...

The effect isn't the same in photos—as is the case in many other parts of this country—but trust me, the feeling of infinity is sensational.

Photos still give us a nice glimpse, but yeah, they never capture reality 😅 you’ve gotta take little videos 😊

I’ll admit I never make videos except sometimes when skiing...😊

6 kilometers round trip and 200 meters of positive elevation gain.

Uh... is that really 200? 😇 So I’m gonna need to see those ski videos... 😄

You left out the rest...😜

(By the way, how are your wrists? )

( By the way, how are your wrists doing? 😇)

😏

Hey Perju, Actually, it's Tajikistan that I know a bit 😉 But I see what you mean—where the Tajik Pamir is, in simple terms, a high plateau (and you really feel the altitude when walking, you get out of breath quickly), Kyrgyzstan is more of a high-mountain landscape, with valleys and all the rest. I hope to convince my wife one day; it’s definitely one of those countries I’d regret not visiting.

Hurry up, the southern raiders are on their way in every area (roads, mines, tourism, etc.). We’ve come across our first 4x4 pick-ups with living modules. Everyone has the right to travel, but the solitude of wild camping is going to disappear.

Oops...sorry, I mixed up the countries—it's Agnès's fault, she only talks about Kyrgyzstan 😏

"The Turk who stretches, the Turk who relaxes—do I even know where I am?!" Coluche

Well, that was obvious—I knew right away it was their fault ;) 😏

The raiders in the southeast are way more problematic than the few tourists in 4x4s with rooftop tents or campers.

They’re the ones who’ll concrete over all the wild camping spots to make way for their freight trucks...

(I’ve definitely seen way more converted trucks than any other car/van to sleep in)