The first day back on trail is always an adjustment.
After a while of being sedentary I need to get back to a hiking mindset.
The Back needs to remember how to carry the pack; the Legs need to get back into rhythm; the Feet need to get used to the uneven ground and loose rocks underneath. I notice my breath getting heavy while climbing and how everything is more difficult with elevation rising. And once more getting used to the silent power and vastness of nature.
When preparing to go on a journey you have to be able to look at the distance, set your intentions and your directions. That is why I like my fast and light shoes which can take me anywhere. When going on a journey you have to be able to look at the ground, to understand where you are standing and be thankful for being there, to fully appreciate and be aware of the moment. That is why I like walking barefoot. I have to pay attention to every step.
We woke up in a low shrubby plain, surrounded by sage and small hills, packed up and got back on the road. Catching a ride with two women first and then a family from Denmark in a van, a mom, dad and their 5 year old son traveling around Kyrgyzstan. They were heading for the ruins of Tash Rabat and were happy to take us as far as we needed. Their kid was very friendly but mostly interested in playing with his whale shaped balloon.
They left us at the junction between the Tash Rabat valley and a smaller gorge which continued east and up the At Bashy mountain range. We started climbing, first gently, then steeply. I forgot how much effort the body makes as it climbs, feeling it again, feeling the elevation and the muscles and the breathing. We reached the top of the grassy pass at 3500m and back down to the next gorge. We found a nice flat spot to sleep and laid down.I was exhausted. It was a short day and I was happy to be back on the trail.
We cooked and ate, talked and planned our next few days, looking at the maps. I dropped to sleep like a rock falling into the river and disappearing.
Luckily we didn’t disappear but woke up the next day and kept walking.
And I still kept struggling. The day started with a sharp uphill battle and kept getting harder.
Then above a rock standing on the side of the gorge I saw it.
A spirit of the mountain.
Animism used to be widespread in these parts and the energy can still be felt like a smoky scent left in the camp long after the fire is put out. It is mixed with the newer religions of the area, mostly Islam, but animism is still alive in tradition and customs.
In these old beliefs, here called Tengri, there is a thought that all things have their own spirit, the river, the mountain, the tree, the snow leopard. Some are more powerful some less but all alive in a way.
I’m not sure what I saw; probably just my mind playing with me, the heat and effort.
But I definitely saw something, half solid half transparent, that had a shape not unlike a sitting wolf though not exactly and much much bigger. As I got closer the shape changed, more deer like with large horns, swaying in the wind like leaves or some loose fabric.
I started climbing the side of the valley, hoping to see what was there. As I got closer I had to climb over a step which blocked my view. I got over the step and around the big rock and…
nothing, no creature, no spirit was waiting for me. No tent or tree, only the beautiful valley lay under me.
I sat for a long moment in that spot, maybe waiting for something to happen or something to appear but no, whatever drew me there left me with only the faint smoke of ancient mystery.
Maybe the spirits left us when we left them. Maybe they are only around to point us in the right direction. Maybe the spirit was shy.
I kept climbing, following disappearing animal tracks, meeting herds of cows, horses and yaks,
until finally reaching the top of the pass looking over a beautiful valley and the amazing jagged rocks holding the mountain I had just finished climbing. I stopped there and waited for Shuva, and we both went down to the next valley together.
More valleys followed, and more mountains, climbing up, then going down faint trails appearing, splitting and coming back together to create a rhythm which we could not change but only follow. We came across a shepherd checking on his cows up in the valley. He shared some bread and sheep fat with us and we shared some dried fruit with him. He also showed me a plant we saw growing all around near the rivers which he called Berberis and had small red edible berries which I remember trying earlier and finding them very bitter but now they were in season, sweet, sour and delicious.Now I know what they made the red jam from we’ve been eating at every yurt.
It’s already the beginning of September and you can feel a change starting to happen in Kyrgyzstan. Fall is coming.
We can start seeing the colors changing, the flowers that covered the meadows and hillsides though still around here and there are mostly replaced by red leaves on the grass.
Some of the grasses and low shrubs are drying up, preparing for winter, turning Orange, red and purple adding to the gray of the rocks, many shades green of the grasses covering the plains and valleys, white of the snow up on the mountain peaks and glaciers above flowing down turning to blue rivers reflecting the sky she crisscrossing the land, cutting it into valleys and shaping the landscape we are walking on.
Now added to the mix are the colors of fall, adding to the beauty of this land and also reminding us the hiking season will not last forever.
On the way we saw a dead cow half eaten above a stream, not where you want to see a dead cow, especially when you are thirsty and running out of water. Later that day we saw another dead cow, and the following day 3 more. Seeing dead cows is definitely something to expect in Kyrgyzstan, but so many in a row was a very strange sight. We started wondering, wolves? Disease? Bad luck?’ anyway always watch where you drink from. Get the water as high up the valley as possible, as far above herds and villages as possible. It’s better if it’s cold and moving and if you can see it dripping from the ice or coming straight out of the ground. You can’t always control where the water comes from so have some way to purify the water you drink. Having a filter is always a good idea; iodine works as well.I always keep some chlorine tablets with me just in case, it’s not always the best taste but easy to take, effortless and does the job.
Passing through abandoned clay huts we found an interesting sight, weirdly shaped “blobs” which looked like they were made of earth and cow dung and were arranged in a pattern on a cleared area in the grass near the huts. Later I found they were condensed blocks of manure left to dry to be used later as biofuel to warm the yurts and homes.
One afternoon after a long pass we reached the valley. The sun was shining behind us, already gone from the western slope where we were and shining on the eastern slope ahead of us – maybe 2 hours to sunset. We stopped not too far from the river to breathe and rest and I asked Shuva whether he wanted to continue or stop and set up camp. Usually I don’t stop before the sun goes down and only then start looking for a place to sleep. Until now we walked, stopped, camped whenever I said so, Shuva knew he was joining a trip that I was planning and building for a long time, He knew how important it is for me and was happy deferring to me on most occasions So now when i asked him to decide he was surprised and stuck.
We opened a whole conversation on making decisions. How do you know what is right and what is wrong? How do you know that when you pick one option you’re not missing a better opportunity? I’ve always struggled making decisions, afraid to miss out and make the wrong decision. And the truth is you never know, you can’t know. You just have to choose, pretend/believe/know you made the right choice and go for it, because not being sure and constantly questioning whether you did the right thing is a waste of time. Life Is beautiful no matter what choice you make, so pick your cards and keep playing.
At the end Shuva decided to stay in the valley and have an early dinner. We had time to look for some firewood and make a campfire, warming us in the cold mountain air. The stars were bright above us and the food was good. It was Friday night and we celebrated Shabat, having definitely made the right choice.
We continued getting lost and being found again, and we weren’t the only ones. One day we saw a horse farmer looking through his binoculars. When we asked what he was looking for he said he lost three foals (young horses) somewhere up these valleys. Sadly we didn’t see them and couldn’t help and instead he helped us by letting us know the best way down from the At Bashy range and down to the villages below, We followed the path he showed us, leaving the mountain, going down the shoulder first, then connecting to the river and following it all the way to At Bashy village.
At Bashy in Kyrgyz means “horse head” and refers to the shape of the small (relatively) mountain range which looks like a horse head jutting up from between the wide 3 vast plateaus surrounding it (Arpa, At Bashy, Ak Say). We went down to the village, had some great food at a local Cafe and hitchhiked our way back to Naryn, deciding that after the 11 days of straight walking and the long sections to come we can cut this part short, get a day off and get back to At Bashy in a day or two.
