6 minute read
Trekking Along the Snowline
Hiking the Tian Shan mountain range in Kyrgyzstan
By: Olly Beckett
Garlanded in thick, unblemished snow, the mountains to my right lead to China and those on my left to Kazakhstan. Any temptation to hike to those countries is dispelled by peaks soaring over 7000 metres high, and harrowing tales of Victorian explorers vainly trying to seek shortcuts to Tibet. Nevertheless, Kyrgyzstan’s Tian Shan range is a land of adventure and I’m here to find my own version of it.
The months pass peacefully in low season and that snowy garland is still draped deep down the slopes. I’m staying in the remote village of Jyrgalan where my accommodation – Peak Lodge – hasn’t had guests since some intrepid heli skiers passed by many weeks ago. It’s deserving of much more attention: modern Scandinavian in style with individual lodges clad in blonde wood, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing mountain views.
Looking at hiking app Wikiloc I’m excited to see many possibilities (in 2016 US Aid funded the mapping of trails throughout the area). It’s been a long day of travel from the capital – Bishkek – starting with a 6-hour “marshrutka” (public minibus) to Karakol followed by a 45-minute ride in a VW Jetta taxi that’s notched up over 300,000km. But it was an efficient journey and so I’ve arrived in Jyrgalan earlier than expected. With plenty of daylight to spare I set off in search of a particularly large rock.
The road that runs from our lodge and through the village is a mix of gravel, mud, and manure from the cows that commute along here morning and evening. A farmer just past the last house is the first and last person I’ll see along today’s trail, which rises steeply beyond a meltwater-swollen river.
Vast grassy plains are soaked by recently thawed snow. I’d like to say that the air was filled with silence, but several small coal mining operations provide a constant hum and occasional crunch. They want to build a ski resort here. Earlier this year a French company announced the €146 million investment, attracted, no doubt, by conditions which will guarantee snow for many years to come. I wonder if they’re aware that a Chinese company also plans to move in and expand the mines?
I’m in no doubt that I’ve reached my destination when I see Tulpas Tash rock rising 8 metres above the ground. It’s so prominent that it features in a famous 18th-century Kyrgyz poem. It’s also a perfect turn-around point.
My map shows that the trail continues up the valley, if I follow it I’ll soon be deep in snow. Which is exactly where I find myself the next day. Luckily someone had walked this way before me and so I literally follow their footsteps to Kok-Bel waterfall. Finding a patch of snow solid enough to hold my weight I admire the partially frozen falls, tumbling from 20 metres above. This was a four-hour trek and today I saw just one pair of hikers.
Back to Karakol, which, with 84,000 people, is eastern Kyrgyzstan’s main population centre. In warmer months hikers flock here for the Ala Kul Lake trek, staying overnight in yurts. Thanks to yesterday’s adventures I now know that the snowline is currently at around 2,500 metres, making Ala Kul – at 3,500m - inaccessible. Instead I set off in search of Zhashyl Kol Lake, a couple of hundred metres lower.
At the beginning of the trail, which starts in a shallow canyon, two teenaged boys watch their cattle herd from horseback. They look doubtful when I mention where I’m going. It’s a hot, sunny day and up ahead peaks of over 5,000 metres tempt me onwards.
The snowline appears much sooner than expected. This is because I hadn’t factored on the path taking a north-facing approach, the snow therefore lying in shade for most of the day. I try wading through it for a few minutes but, when it reaches my waist, I decide to turn around. After a thorough consultation of my map app I seek another route, one which will return me to the city via what should be a snow-free route.
From a 2,800-metre peak (which seems small amidst the craggy giants all around) I admire the view up to the mountains and down to Issyk Kul, the world’s second-largest mountain lake after Titicaca. Today has been a success after all (let’s ignore the part where I slid down the hill three times, covering myself in mud and then dropping my phone in the stream I used to wash myself). Seven hours along a trail that would rival some of the best I’ve been on in the Alps, Andes,
Himalayas and Rockies, yet, apart from those teenaged riders, not a soul to be seen.
Ala-Archa National Park, my third and final hiking area in Kyrgyzstan, is under an hour’s drive from my downtown Bishkek hotel. Lucky Bishkek for having such a convenient mountain wonderland. I’m aiming for Ak-Sai waterfall, located at 2,800 metres above sea level. This time the trail’s well-trodden and its aspect faces favourably. I happily hike the snow-free route to the falls, which are disappointingly small and so I carry on up, turning around only when the trail becomes too precipitous for my liking. I’ve reached a point where I can look across to glaciers and serrated ridges and I’m very happy with today’s efforts.
When I began the walk the only signs of life were some playful marmots. On the return journey ever more people appear, an indication not of peak season – which is still at least a couple of months away – but of the park’s convenience to the city. There’s a lack of public transport here but not, thankfully, a lack of Kyrgyz hospitality. It takes less than a minute of trying for me to hitch a lift back to Bishkek.
Towards the end of low season Kyrgyzstan bathes in 15 hours of daylight. You’ll therefore have plenty of time, and plenty of trails, to enjoy your own adventures in the Tian Shan mountains.
