From there it was a little bit more until our GPS showed the border between the two countries, and then a little more until we reached the Kyrgyz side. There we got through quickly as well - maybe this is the way the remote border posts are?
As we’d reached Kyrgyzstan, we’d left the Pamir mountains behind, and quite literally so. As the road took us down the plains in the north, in the mirrors we could see majestic snowy peaks. In fact, while riding in the mountains, they’d remained hidden from us, but now, as we were putting some distance between us, they all lined up neatly. We decided to find a place to camp to enjoy the magnificent view before heading to lower altitudes. It wasn’t a too easy task though, as suddenly there were more villages, more traffic and more people, which meant that finding a place where we would remain hidden from others was rather difficult. We found an abandoned, half-ruined building quite close to the road, and decided to pitch our tent just behind it, so it would also shelter us from the gusting wind. But as soon as we’d settled in, a small truck rolled by and a bunch of not-so-sober locals got out. Surprised, but nevertheless delighted to see us there, they invited us to join for a drink, but somehow we managed to convince them that we were rather in for some sleep. After some hesitation, they finally left.
Some ancient abandoned farmhouse to give us cover in the ferocious winds in Alay valley.
The two faces of the Pamirs: panorama from our wild-camp view in the evening (click to enlarge)...
...and in the morning.
After a restless night (after all, we could not be sure that they would not return in an ever more festive mood, or with a bigger company), we woke up to see the bikes covered with a layer of frost.
Melting the ice off.
The morning coffee view from our wild-camp.
ur first serious stop on the way north was in the city of Osh, the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan after the capital Bishkek. After having spent some time in the high mountains, the lowland city felt chokingly hot and the traffic struck us with its usual chaos. While making our way through the city trying to find a guesthouse, Kariina fell into an argument with an idiotic driver trying to push her into the opposite lane, which didn’t quite make us want to stay in that city too long. But we were there for a reason - the bikes needed to be serviced, and the GS was in a desperate need for a new tyre, so we had no choice but to linger for a few days. So we looked up a guesthouse with safe parking and decent internet (we really were desperate for some wifi, as we’d been disconnected all the way through Tajikistan, which was some ten days or so), and engaged in all the things that needed to be sorted. The lady who owned the guest house (more a home stay really) was super friendly and encouraged us to take from the garden as many tomatoes and peppers as we would like, but she also told us some horror stories about tourists being detained by the police for invented infractions and taken on ATM tours around the city. Add to that all the stories about corrupt traffic cops in Tajikistan, and you get just how “nice” this city was starting to look.
A leaky fuel filter needed some attention in a random Kyrgiz village.
Osh.
After we got the bikes sorted, we quickly made our way out of the city and into the mountains. Even though the Tian Shan mountains stretching into Kyrgyzstan were not as tall as the Pamirs, riding through them offered a lot of enjoyment. And as we pitched our tent that evening on top of a hill with a 360-degree view, we had to admit that we’d had some truly magnificent camping spots on this journey. Actually, most of them had been amazing, with only a few “emergency” ones (such as our first night in Georgia where we’d come off a ferry well past midnight and after having pitched our tent in complete darkness we discovered ourselves next to a pile of rubbish in the morning). This spot was one of the top ones, surrounded by majestic mountains in all directions, and since it was located off a quiet mountain road, it was really peaceful.
Tian-Shan mountains wild camping, nothing but us and the wild animals. Here, we're all one, and we're free.
And Earth's rotation turned it into a proper Million Star suite.
Dawn. We're really "the Sun" people when we're travelling, our living on the road is from "Sun-to-Sun", like the people of the nature, we've learned to do absolutely no riding in the dark, with just an occasional nightly star gazing outside our tent when the conditions allow it.
Just as we mentioned before, riding through the Tian Shan mountains was quite spectacular. Here are some shots I took from the road:
Those funky diagonal lines makes this part of Tian-Shan optically a very attractive proposition.
Tian-Shan's magnificent valleys from high above.
The view from a less travelled Kyrgiz trail.
An ancient tomb in Tian-Shan mountains.
Click to enlarge panoramas, then click again to scroll horizontally.
Salt lake near Issyk Kul.
A proper offroad dash the Tian-Shans.
Panorama from Tian-Shan.
In the northern part of Kyrgyzstan lies the beautiful lake of Issyk Kul. Although its surface elevation is 1607 meters, it never freezes, hence the name (Issyk Kul translates as the warm lake).
Camping some 3 meters from the water of Issyk Kul
Issyk Kul, we had a decent dip here.
Mountains seen from the other side of the lake.
A retired Mig-21 near the soldiers boarding house.
Issyk Kul with the front of storm approaching.
GS got rear brake lever bent on a crash. Good 'ol though-through German engineering, some complain it's made out of "chocolate" (too soft metal), but here's the reason of this selection of material - just bend it back and ride on!
Taking a dip in the lake - which actually was relatively warm - with the snow-capped mountains in the distance was an exciting experience. We ended up spending two nights by the lake, just taking in the views and relaxing. Then, when we were ready to leave, Suzuki decided not to start. Well, it did for a couple of seconds, and then the engine just cut out. After some half an hour of trying to start it, it finally did, but it was obvious that there was too little compression and that it could call it quits any time. Trying not to think about it too much (a difficult task, I must admit), we headed towards the border with Kazakhstan.
Ride safe,
Margus
As we’d reached Kyrgyzstan, we’d left the Pamir mountains behind, and quite literally so. As the road took us down the plains in the north, in the mirrors we could see majestic snowy peaks. In fact, while riding in the mountains, they’d remained hidden from us, but now, as we were putting some distance between us, they all lined up neatly. We decided to find a place to camp to enjoy the magnificent view before heading to lower altitudes. It wasn’t a too easy task though, as suddenly there were more villages, more traffic and more people, which meant that finding a place where we would remain hidden from others was rather difficult. We found an abandoned, half-ruined building quite close to the road, and decided to pitch our tent just behind it, so it would also shelter us from the gusting wind. But as soon as we’d settled in, a small truck rolled by and a bunch of not-so-sober locals got out. Surprised, but nevertheless delighted to see us there, they invited us to join for a drink, but somehow we managed to convince them that we were rather in for some sleep. After some hesitation, they finally left.
Some ancient abandoned farmhouse to give us cover in the ferocious winds in Alay valley.
The two faces of the Pamirs: panorama from our wild-camp view in the evening (click to enlarge)...
...and in the morning.
After a restless night (after all, we could not be sure that they would not return in an ever more festive mood, or with a bigger company), we woke up to see the bikes covered with a layer of frost.
Melting the ice off.
The morning coffee view from our wild-camp.
ur first serious stop on the way north was in the city of Osh, the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan after the capital Bishkek. After having spent some time in the high mountains, the lowland city felt chokingly hot and the traffic struck us with its usual chaos. While making our way through the city trying to find a guesthouse, Kariina fell into an argument with an idiotic driver trying to push her into the opposite lane, which didn’t quite make us want to stay in that city too long. But we were there for a reason - the bikes needed to be serviced, and the GS was in a desperate need for a new tyre, so we had no choice but to linger for a few days. So we looked up a guesthouse with safe parking and decent internet (we really were desperate for some wifi, as we’d been disconnected all the way through Tajikistan, which was some ten days or so), and engaged in all the things that needed to be sorted. The lady who owned the guest house (more a home stay really) was super friendly and encouraged us to take from the garden as many tomatoes and peppers as we would like, but she also told us some horror stories about tourists being detained by the police for invented infractions and taken on ATM tours around the city. Add to that all the stories about corrupt traffic cops in Tajikistan, and you get just how “nice” this city was starting to look.
A leaky fuel filter needed some attention in a random Kyrgiz village.
Osh.
After we got the bikes sorted, we quickly made our way out of the city and into the mountains. Even though the Tian Shan mountains stretching into Kyrgyzstan were not as tall as the Pamirs, riding through them offered a lot of enjoyment. And as we pitched our tent that evening on top of a hill with a 360-degree view, we had to admit that we’d had some truly magnificent camping spots on this journey. Actually, most of them had been amazing, with only a few “emergency” ones (such as our first night in Georgia where we’d come off a ferry well past midnight and after having pitched our tent in complete darkness we discovered ourselves next to a pile of rubbish in the morning). This spot was one of the top ones, surrounded by majestic mountains in all directions, and since it was located off a quiet mountain road, it was really peaceful.
Tian-Shan mountains wild camping, nothing but us and the wild animals. Here, we're all one, and we're free.
And Earth's rotation turned it into a proper Million Star suite.
Dawn. We're really "the Sun" people when we're travelling, our living on the road is from "Sun-to-Sun", like the people of the nature, we've learned to do absolutely no riding in the dark, with just an occasional nightly star gazing outside our tent when the conditions allow it.
Just as we mentioned before, riding through the Tian Shan mountains was quite spectacular. Here are some shots I took from the road:
Those funky diagonal lines makes this part of Tian-Shan optically a very attractive proposition.
Tian-Shan's magnificent valleys from high above.
The view from a less travelled Kyrgiz trail.
An ancient tomb in Tian-Shan mountains.
Click to enlarge panoramas, then click again to scroll horizontally.
Salt lake near Issyk Kul.
A proper offroad dash the Tian-Shans.
Panorama from Tian-Shan.
In the northern part of Kyrgyzstan lies the beautiful lake of Issyk Kul. Although its surface elevation is 1607 meters, it never freezes, hence the name (Issyk Kul translates as the warm lake).
Camping some 3 meters from the water of Issyk Kul
Issyk Kul, we had a decent dip here.
Mountains seen from the other side of the lake.
A retired Mig-21 near the soldiers boarding house.
Issyk Kul with the front of storm approaching.
GS got rear brake lever bent on a crash. Good 'ol though-through German engineering, some complain it's made out of "chocolate" (too soft metal), but here's the reason of this selection of material - just bend it back and ride on!
Taking a dip in the lake - which actually was relatively warm - with the snow-capped mountains in the distance was an exciting experience. We ended up spending two nights by the lake, just taking in the views and relaxing. Then, when we were ready to leave, Suzuki decided not to start. Well, it did for a couple of seconds, and then the engine just cut out. After some half an hour of trying to start it, it finally did, but it was obvious that there was too little compression and that it could call it quits any time. Trying not to think about it too much (a difficult task, I must admit), we headed towards the border with Kazakhstan.
Ride safe,
Margus
