Safety in numbers is no solution
If your own liberation becomes a prison
Clones have dead beats while we have wild rhythms
Clones’ time is up and we carry the coffin, so
Open up your fucking mind and you can fly

– Black Eyes, “False Positive”

Flying out at 6:35 Saturday morning.

Had a stroll through the furnace that is Bishkek in July. Kyrgyzstan’s equivalent of Hercules, who lifted his tired horse over a mountain pass:

The dadgum gubmint:

Monument to the two Kyrgyz revolutions this century:

Still trying to figure out this tree:

I dunno:

Ya boy:

But seriously:

Gotta keep ’em thinking we’re Russians:

En route to Victory Park:

Victory Park:

Check out the mountains way in the back:

Tomorrow we visit another bazaar and have our traditional last day Indian meal.

Took a 20-minute walk to the famed Osh Bazaar, which is full of vendors selling everything imaginable, as long as it’s a knockoff and has egregious spelling mistakes.

Many quirky cafes and such en route…when I think glorified murderous crime boss, I think coffee:

The Colonel’s got some competition:

When you need yer tater fix:

There is no McDonald’s here, but somehow:

Pronouncing this in my head gave me an aneurysm:

SO MUCH ENERGY YOU’LL GROW A BLOND AFRO:

Had to stop at a shoe store…women amirite:

Then we poked around the bazaar, including the Soviet military uniform section. Our hero:

The shopkeep pretty much forced me to do this…I put on my best Soviet face:

Please send help:

Taking a little break to cool down (it’s approaching 100 degrees) before heading out on a self-guided walking tour. This app called izi.TRAVEL is legit and has cities all over the world.

It happened again:

This time it was a speed trap…the KPH limit suddenly dropped from 60 to 20 on a highway. They extorted $80 out of us. The rest of the way to Bishkek was peppered with an unnerving number of traps like this. Now I understand all the noise on the internet about police being hot in this country.

It’s the kind of thing that discourages tourists, and therefore money, from entering your poverty-stricken nation. Kyrgyzstan, get your life together.

Views were ho-hum again:

Then, three minutes from the apartment in Bishkek, the Russian died. I’ll spare you the heartache. The rental company came and got it, and we settled up and got a taxi to the apartment.

If you can’t engineer a door, how good are your engines?

Here’s our godsend of an apartment:

Taking it easy tonight, then running roughshod over this town tomorrow.

Last night, Claire overheard a couple of Germans grumbling about Americans and smoking, so we were waiting to hear something really insulting so she could blow up at them in German (I even planned to film the interaction), but when talking with ze Germans and these lovely Swedes at dinner, it finally came out that she lived near Frankfurt, where the Germans are from. They’ve been eerily quiet since then…

About five hours to Bishkek now.

Took around five hours to get here. It was raining as we left Jalal-Abad, then cleared up for most of the drive, until five minutes before arrival at the hostel. At least the road was excellent.

We’re just going to be lazy and hang out at the hostel, then head out in the morning. Adding an extra night to our final destination, Bishkek.

Heading to Toktogul for at least one night. We’re staying at a guest house called Rahat, so we’ve solved the mystery:

Took a 90-minute drive to the 95% Uzbek town of Arslanbob, famed for its two waterfalls and the largest walnut forest in the world.

The Russian was acting funny upon arrival, revving and lugging at idle, so I checked under the hood: the radiator fluid tank was bone dry…no warning from the car.

So, we found an auto parts store in about two minutes (they’re everywhere in Kyrgyzstan), and filled her up. We’ll see how the level looks tomorrow morning.

I tried to drive to the small waterfall, but I’ve pushed my driving skill limits enough already, so we headed back down and arranged a tour.

But first, lunch. For whatever reason, we’ve rarely encountered a knife with our meals on this trip, but this was just downright Candid Camera silliness:

Our driver’s vehicle, which he called our SUV’s grandfather:

The first stop was the big waterfall, which required us to cross a makeshift bridge:

Then we saw this sign you’ve definitely never encountered before:

There’s no line through it, so it’s not saying Don’t throw rocks at people’s heads–it’s just warning you to watch out for people doing that.

The hike up:

That’s your big boy:

It was a little drizzly.

Here’s a couple of shots from the back of the truck as we headed to the walnut forest:

The forest:

Views:

To finish of the tour, we stopped by the small waterfall:

Finally, we got back to the guest house and watched our hosts play table tennis:

They’re just like us!

We left Naryn at 8:45 this morning, expecting a trip of upwards of six hours.

The views were typical:

Then the road started getting sketchier and sketchier, including crossing what was left of a concrete bridge…the missing portion of it appeared to have disintegrated into the river. The path across was perhaps a foot wider than our SUV.

Shortly after that crossing, the road ended:

So we had to backtrack an hour and work out another route to Jalal-Abad…Google Maps and Yandex Maps (the Google Maps equivalent in former Soviet nations) both kept insisting we take the route of the phantom road. So, I worked out another route, hoping that the roads I identified existed.

They did, and despite the intense focus required to keep the car from flying off a switchback, it was all worth it:

I mean, come on:

11 hours on the road and we made it:

Took a two-hour, mostly drizzly drive to Song-Kul, Kyrgyzstan’s second largest lake after Issyk-Kul. The name fittingly translates to “Following Lake”.

En route:

Near the top, at just under 10,000 feet, the roads are all mud. Nearly spun the Russian a couple of times, but we made it. Apparently it’s impassable from September through May. 200 days of snow a year.

Left or right? Decisions, decisions:

Claire must have spotted a foal or a calf:

Despite the weather, the scenery was spectacular. Still, I’d love to see it on a clear day:

Just horsing around:

The road back down:

On the way back, I got pulled over for allegedly crossing the solid center line to pass someone. I find it hard to believe the line was solid in that part of the road, as it was dead straight and flat, but it could be a trap, as the cops were filming and pulled over three cars while I was dealing with the ticket.

Anyway, my fine was less than $30, which I paid the cop right there. I asked for a receipt in case there was any issue leaving the country, but he assured me he was going to Naryn to pay the fine on my behalf and that I’d have no problem. Then they got in their car and went the exact opposite direction of Naryn, so I guess I may have checked the ever-elusive traveler’s box of “bribed a cop”. After talking with the apartment owner, my suspicions have been confirmed.

Oh, and all my interactions with the police were via broken English, Google Translate, and Charades.

Then, minutes from Naryn, I got pulled over again. Fortunately he just wanted to check my license and that I had a car passport. Probably saw the Kazakh plate and Russian vehicle it’s attached to…standard operating procedure.

At least the cops are super nice…they shake your hand as soon as they approach your window.

Here I am in white:

On the way home, we stopped at this Silk Road citadel from the 10th-12th centuries. Sadly, little is left of it:

This kind man opened the nearby museum for us:

The museum:

The world’s first cricket bat:

Holla atcha boy:

Lots of driving today, and we’re wiped.

Took a nearly two-hour drive to the Tash-Rabat Caravanserai, a Silk Road inn built in the 15th century. Apparently archeologists found evidence of a ninth century monastery there, too.

The views on the road there are shocking, as if the mountains instantly rise up from the steppe, like a wall with no foothills or gradual increase in elevation as you approach them. It’s difficult to capture on camera…I can’t think of anywhere I’ve been quite like it:

The inn:

Arguably the best picture of Claire I’ve ever taken:

Yes, I’m sunburned. You should see the tops of my feet…I missed them with sunblock at the beach yesterday:

The road out:

En route:

Apartment:

I told you there were mountains out there…

Off to Naryn for at least two nights.

Took a drive to the next town over to use an ATM and get a shawarma, and saw some oddities:

At least they’re honest:

It’s sandy until you get in, then big, painful rocks.

Took a brief rest at the hotel, then came out to thunder and increasing winds. Suddenly the beautiful blue lake was churning.

We stopped for a late lunch; Claire asked for kebab and I asked for wings. The waiter came back and said they didn’t have either, so Claire ordered chicken. I asked for goulash…they didn’t have that, and he told us they only have chicken and traditional beef with potatoes and dumplings, so I went with chicken as well. Why bother giving us a menu if you only have two items?

Anyway, it was served like fajitas and was actually a bit spicy. The best meal of the trip so far:

There’s a Dungan (Hui Chinese Muslim) restaurant nearby, which we’ll have to try. Shawarma and noodles? Kebab and Szechuan? Don’t turn that dial.

The sea was angry that day, my friends:

There are awesome snowcapped mountains on the horizon, I swear.

Looks like it’ll be chilly (70ish) tomorrow, and hopefully not so windy. The sand stung like a so-and-so.

Drove into town to see this 1880s church reminiscent of Scandinavian stave churches, but prettier:

Interesting that they bow down as if performing a Muslim prayer…this is a largely Muslim country, so I wonder if there’s a connection:

Heading to the beach tomorrow (seriously).

Arranged for a driver to Altyn-Arashan, a national park with a notoriously difficult road to get in.

Leaving the guest house:

No, the van did not inspire confidence.

Just after entering the park, we stopped here so the driver could adjust the suspension for what was to come:

It started out like most rural roads in Kyrgyzstan, no biggie:

Then I realized what I was subjecting myself to for the next 90 minutes:

We picked up a Kyrgyz guide who spoke good English, and he gave me some tips on where to visit over the second half of our trip. I’m happy I chose not to plan a rigid itinerary like I normally do…it’s just not something to do in a country where solid travel information isn’t available until you get there.

Stopped here for a bit:

I asked the guide we picked up how old the van was. We both guessed it was from the ’60s, then he asked the driver…it’s a 2000.

After two hours, we reached the end of the road, a spot with hot spring baths and stunning views:

Views from that little bridge:

My personal hot tub:

Visions of Frida Kahlo:

Ah, man, good soak. The soak o’ the year!

After my soak, a couple of workmen bummed cigarettes from me, and one of them told me I look like Conor McGregor…that’s the second time I’ve heard that in four days. So, tonight I’m getting a full chest tattoo so I can walk around shirtless and get free food in restaurants.

One last look at the river on the way back down:

Went for our second consecutive Western dinner, and saw a mural by the same artist who created the piece I posted yesterday:

Apparently he’s a local.

We tried to check out this great church, but it was closed, so I got some shots through the gate:

Today is the 150th anniversary of the founding of Karakol, and the people were out and about:

Here’s the biting social commentary you come to this blog for:

We’ve decided to stay another night. Tomorrow, Claire’s taking a rest day and I’m taking a tour to a mountain I’m not qualified to drive up. The host showed me a YouTube video that scared me straight.

I read a Kyrgyz guy’s blog post that describes a trek to a small alpine lake that you can also rent horses to, so we headed 40 minutes out of town to a small village he said to start from.

We parked by the river he said you can follow to the lake.

Homeowners in England break their backs and bank accounts to have a garden and stream like this:

Despite the unbelievable number of horses around, no rental places were obvious, but I saw a yurt camp on the map, so we headed upstream towards it:

It took probably an hour to reach the camp, which appears to have a Christmas tree lot on site:

I spoke to a couple of women running the camp about getting to the lake, which they said was three hours away by horse–the blog post I’d read said it was 2.5 hours by foot.

“Max”, who spoke good English, came out of the house and said there was a small lake 10 minutes upstream, and that they didn’t rent horses to the alpine lake and he didn’t know anything about anyone doing that.

Max felt the need to tell me the town name translated to “Black Girls”. Weird flex, but okay. Then he immediately got on his horse and rode away.

So, the blogger was full of it, I guess. Tynchtyk Zhanadyl, if I ever see you in the streets, you’re catching these hands.

We attempted the alleged 10-minute walk to the other lake, which the women said didn’t exist, but got stopped by a fence.

So we just poked around the camp for a bit before heading back to the car:

Our first look inside a yurt:

Dramatization of me vs. Tynchtyk the bogus blogger:

Heading back:

On the way home, we spotted a beautiful cemetery overgrown with grass and weeds and featuring a wild dog in one of the crypts:

Not exactly what was planned, but the best adventures rarely are.

Went into town to get some supplies and dinner and ended up at a food court above a supermarket. They had six restaurants, with waitresses handling orders for all of them–they give diners six menus.

Claire had a cheese pizza and I ordered a double cheeseburger with fries, but the waitress came back and said they only offer:

• A single-patty cheeseburger without fries
• A cheeseless double burger with fries

This is what happens when you dumb down the system to the point of pushing images of food on a register. We need to take to the streets, sheeple!

Here’s an unusual mural from the food court:

Then we headed to the Dungan mosque. Dungans are Hui Chinese Muslims, hence the Eastern architecture:

Debating if we’re going to stay in Karakol beyond tomorrow night. There’s a lot to see and this guest house is so nice.

Took a half-hour drive to hike around Seven Bulls rock, a red sandstone formation.

En route:

We stopped at a tiny village below the rocks and walked around, trying to find a way to them:

These turkeys, with their chicks underfoot, were ready to throw down had we stepped any closer:

We ran into a guy sitting outside his house who gestured the route to take, then had a little girl show us the path, and another man confirm we were heading the right way. No verbal communication aside from a Kyrgyz “thank you”, of course.

Passed through someone’s back gate to get to the trails:

The view back to the village:

Huckleberry Breaux chose to chill at the riverside while I looked for a route along the water that would take us to the other side of the rocks:

Getting close to where I think I can get around:

Blast! Foiled again:

So, we decided to get back in the car and drive farther up the road to Kok Jayik valley, but not before seeing the remnants of the last person to attempt to find a way to the other side of the rocks:

The road was first gear-only, and included several bridge crossings:

Around the valley:

Loads of yurt camps:

It’s business time, it’s business time:

Foals look so hilariously out of proportion to me:

On the way home, we saw this monument that I’ll have to ask our host about:

Claire’s view as we headed home:

Taking a little break before exploring some of the town and hopefully getting another döner. It’s been like two days since our last one and were getting the DTs…

Went to the local touristic restaurant, where Claire had lamb and I had horse and noodles:

Pretty bland stuff. I asked what was spicy on the menu, but that item wasn’t traditional, so I opted for the local dish. Now that I’ve checked the typical Kyrgyz food box, I’m getting whatever I can find that has some heat. I knew I should’ve brought a bottle of El Yucateco.

Music:

Took us nearly six hours to get to our first stop in Kyrgyzstan: Karakol, which I believe is the most popular town for basing yourself for treks and other outdoor adventures.

Crossing the border was fairly uneventful, except for a couple of minutes when we had to search for our registration papers we completed and got stamped at the airport.

One of the border agents, who spoke little English, told me I look like Conor McGregor and made the universal beard gesture with his hand. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

En route:

The guest house:

Next time you’re in Saty, Kazakhstan, I highly recommend you stay here:

It’s run by a wonderful woman whose shirt is very apropos:

Off to Kyrgyzstan after breakfast.

Electricity and Wi-Fi are intermittent here, so you have to make do…

Took our final day trip in Kazakhstan to the first of three nearby Kolsai Lakes.

En route:

The road was covered in that sweet, sweet pavement we can’t get enough of. Just hook it to my veins.

The lake:

Our first Russian glamour pose of the trip:

Our Polish friends said the path they took to the second lake was very difficult and a few hours long, and we could have taken horses, but my pelvic bone structure doesn’t agree with that nonsense, so we opted for another mode of transport.

Yeah, we rowed ourselves out there:

The fish were impressed with my rowing technique:

Kyrgyzstan tomorrow.

Drove a road only accessible via Russian 4×4 to get to Lake Kaindy, which was formed a century ago after an earthquake.

River crossing:

The view en route:

Halfway up the road, we came across a caravan of SUVs stopped. A guy walked back to us and said they’d broke down, so we gave him and his Kazakh companion a ride the rest of the way to the lake.

I said, “You sound American, where are you from?”

“Texas.”

“Wow, so are we. What city?”

“Houston.”

Turns out he lives downtown…five minutes from us.

I stalled the car at one point and he said he knows that pain, as he drives a stick…I had a feeling about this one, so I asked what he drives…it’s a 350Z. I drive the newer model, a 370Z. And he works for a consulting firm that practically has its own floor in my building.

Kaindy, with the remnants of trees from before the earthquake in the middle of it:

One guy went in up to his neck. I wasn’t that brave:

Our new friend:

It’s absolutely pouring now, just after arriving at the hostel. I shudder to think what the road out of the lake is like during this.

Our base for alpine lake exploration:

A great Polish couple are the only other tenants. Sounds like we’ll have quite an adventure crossing through a river en route to one of the lakes tomorrow.

Woke up at 4:45 this morning because sleep is the cousin of death and got on the road before 7:00 to drive to four hours to Charyn Canyon to hike for a hot minute:Can you be charged for violating an incoherently written law?Lawrence!The road to our new home:

Internet is very slow. I hope all the images made it…

I woke up at 5:30 because my body hates my brain and we left Almaty at 7:30, hoping to hit up an ATM because cash is king in rural Central Asia and we were a little low.

We didn’t see a bank, and kind of forgot about it until we got to our hostel 3.5 hours later.

After a delicious lunch of dumplings filled with unidentifiable meat and familiar potatoes, we went to get our tickets to the national park, and realized we needed cash, and more importantly, gas, as the Russian drank half a tank in those 3.5 hours.

So, we headed to the nearest town with a bank and gas station…a 2.5-hour round trip. At least the scenery was nice:

Then we headed into the park to experience the Singing Dunes:

These sand dunes vibrate and emit a droning noise as you disturb them by pushing down through the sand. Visitors are encouraged to increase the effects by scooting down them like our new German friend demonstrated:

Apparently this phenomenon is known to occur in only 35ish places in the world. The size of the grains, silica content, and surrounding humidity all have to be just right.

It was a steep, hot, windy, and sunburny 500-foot walk up:

Then, on the ride back out of the park, the Russian started acting up, constantly restarting itself as we drove. The car rental guy told us they’d had starter problems before, so I was fearing the worst. 10 minutes from the checkpoint to get out of the park, it died. Nothing happened when I turned the ignition…I got the car guy on the phone (with one bar of service), and we sorted it out–just a loose battery connection, fortunately.

All told, today was 15 hours of nonstop activity, including about eight hours of driving. Hopefully we’ve got the most taxing day of the trip out of the way.

Canyon next.

Home for one night:

Off to explore the park.

Here’s a horse made from sheep knee joints:

The knee joints are used in a traditional children’s game you can play on your phone.

Heading to Altyn Emel National Park today.

We got up early, hoping to eat then head to the car rental agency, but no restaurants are open around here for breakfast. We settled on a Starbucks at 7:30, walked in, and were told they don’t open until 8:00…I think every coffee shop in Houston has emptied out by then.

Anyway, here’s how to write Dominic and Claire in either Russian or Kazakh:

We got our car from a company run by an Oklahoman who lived in Mongolia prior to Kazakhstan. He gave us some great tips on what to see, and we’ve changed our itinerary a bit, so we’ll be staying in Kazakhstan an extra night. Two-and-a-half hours later we found ourselves in the steppe to see the Bronze Age petroglyphs of Tamgaly:

Our vehicle had less than 200 miles on the odometer when we picked it up, and the alignment is already jacked. It also makes a constant whirring noise very much like the sound of a plane’s landing gear retracting. It’s Russian:

The road home:

It was brutally hot. The car’s thermometer read 46 degrees…Celsius. That’s 115 in Freedomheit. Of course we can’t trust this car, but that number honestly didn’t feel too far off.

Then we came home for a döner and picked up some essentials. Here’s Dom’s yearly post about how cheap other countries are…

$10.91:

Headed to the countryside tomorrow.

Took a crucial nap then headed out a little farther.

I swear, former Soviet nations have the best street art:

The world’s largest MistyMate™:

Opera:

Obelisk celebrating Kazakhstan’s independence, with the presidential palace and mountains behind:

Then it was time to take a cable car to the amusement park and viewing terraces of Kok Tobe, which is what Kazakhs yell out when they shoot fadeaways:

They’ve got yuge roses:

A Beatles statue:

The sound system was playing garbage like “It’s Only Love”…I guess the post-touring albums haven’t made it over here yet.

On-site security was serious business:

The 7D VR company was making cash hand over fist:

But not for long:

One last shot before heading back down:

Could there be a better omen for us? British, Kazakh, and French flags:

Tomorrow we pick up our car and explore some nearby nature.

Still exhausted, but we went out for a quick walk and saw some street art:

And a cathedral:

Then strolled through a park with Soviet monuments to Kazakh soldiers:

Decided to skip globbing this time:

(No, we can’t translate that one.)

Then we hatched an idiotic plan to stuff ourselves with Georgian food, which rivals plutonium for density:

But, just give me a beat:

And I’ll work it out:

Flight to Istanbul was uneventful, until breakfast before landing. We got a scoop of alleged egg, a dish of unflavored yogurt, and mushrooms. Why they picked such a polarizing food, I have no idea. Surprised we didn’t get a side of cilantro-covered olives with a licorice chaser.

Anyway, we got a döner kebab in the airport, so we’ve pretty much experienced the entirety of the Turkish gestalt:

About two hours until our flight to Almaty.

And for God’s sake, people, stop putting birthday cakes down the toilet!

23 hours to go…

Twelve hours to Istanbul, a four-hour layover, then five hours to Almaty, Kazakhstan. Departure at 9:00 p.m. Friday and arrival at 5:00 a.m. Sunday. This better be good.

Our first week will look something like this, with probably five days in Kazakhstan, followed by our first two nights in Kyrgyzstan, where we’ll spend the remainder of our three weeks:

Actual temperatures, precipitation, and Geiger counter readings will vary even more as we take trips to a canyon and mountain lakes. We’ll be layered af.