Irkeshtam

To allow myself a bit more editorializing: I was ready to leave China. The people are great, the culture is great, but the government was exhausting. Between the depressing feeling I got every time I thought of what is happening to the Uighur population, to the Great Firewall (in Xinjiang, even most VPNs don’t work, or work well), I was ready for something different. So, according to plan (though a day later, since the border is closed on weekends), I headed to Irkeshtam. 

                To Uluqchat: the hostel arranged a shared taxi for us—by hustling the local hostels in the way I had for the Karakol trip, I eventually wound up with 8 fellow travelers—for only 50 RMB. The drive to Uluqchat was nice but nothing compared to what was to come. Instead it was more desert and reddish-brown mountains. After hiking from the gate to the immigration post (they wouldn’t let the car through) we began our protracted and inefficient interaction with the border guards. After wordlessly holding our passports for 20 minutes, they ushered us through security. In a metaphor I am still trying to understand, they ran our bags through the scanner one after the other, with the later bags pushing the earlier ones off the end and onto the floor until there was a disheveled heap of luggage. The stubbornness and chaos of this simple yet moronic action was reflective of the day. 

To Border: Eventually they loaded us into the waiting cars which they had arranged for us (after more aimless waiting). The cars would take us to the actual border for 100 RMB. This drive was more spectacular; the mountains became taller and eventually snow-capped; the desert gradually gave way to scrubby bushes and grasses. We arrived at the border around 2:30 (we left Uluqchat around 12:30-1 PM), and of course the guards were on break until 4:30 so there was more aimless waiting. Finally 4:30 rolled around and they actually let us through on time.

To the border

No-man’s land: After crossing through the final checkpoint we walked to the border (see picture to get an idea). Incidentally it is worth noting that the landscape also changes almost exactly at the border—hot, high desert becomes cool, green mountain valleys. After the well-equipped but teenage-looking Chinese soldiers we were met with the Kyrgyz version of G.I. Joe. I noticed all the Kyrgyz soldiers were worse equipped but seemed somehow more hardened and efficient. After crossing the border, there was a 3km stretch to the border station, but rather than walk Kyrgyz G.I. Joe pointed us to a van that took us there. After going through the refreshingly straightforward border process (they didn’t even scan my bag), we began to haggle with the local taxi drivers. They had us beat, but after a lot of talking and the help of the Russian-speaking Slovak who was with us (great guy), myself and the two Koreans got a shared taxi to Osh for 1500 soms (22 dollars) apiece. 

The actual border (Kyrgyzstan begins where road maintenance ends)

To Osh: This drive is as spectacular as advertised. Though apparently the Torugart pass is more scenic (and more expensive), this one left nothing to be desired. We were herded into a minivan and took off at breakneck speed through the mountain passes, eventually surfacing on massive alpine meadow ringed by the tallest mountains I have ever seen. There was still snow below where we were driving, and yet the peaks seemed to be thousands more feet above our heads; we were not even at the foot of the mountains though we were already thousands of feet above sea level. We stopped at a yurt for a “photo stop”; I followed our driver and his friend to a couple of yurts instead. Inside they were filling old soda bottles with kumis, and I immediately felt at home in this rural alcohol trade (thanks, Kentucky). We all sat around while they filled, and they offered me some naan with what I think was yak butter (tasty) and eventually a bowl of kumis, complete with numerous black spots floating in it. Most of what I have heard about kumis is negative, but let me state unequivocally: I really enjoyed it, black specks and all. I had to try not to slug the whole bowl (it is highly sluggable) in a minute. The kumis trade is really jumping; on our way to the meadow we had to show our passports at some checkpoint (actually a miserably small trailer with two soldiers crammed inside) and our driver gave them a bottle along with his passport. 

The mountains--higher than the clouds

On the jailoo (alpine pasture)

Horses, pastures, mountains, Kyrgyzstan.

Soon we left the jailoo and it was mountain pass after mountain pass, though none had the massive snow-capped peaks we had seen earlier. There were grasslands and craggy, rocky ridges; in the bottoms there were trees and villages and herds of cattle moving around. The mountains were still towering; the snow was replaced with rock formations that looked like dragon’s teeth. The houses had changed completely from the soulless prefabs I saw in China to older, modest Russian-style country houses. The creeks were lined with trees and were full of water (there were mudslides blocking the road in places). The villagers themselves were in evidence all along the road, from herders using it for a convenient cattle drive to children playing in courtyards. From grand overlooks to intimate views into daily life along its route, this road is spectacular. After several hours of winding our way down gorges and valleys and through villages we ended on the plain and were almost instantly in Osh. 

Still with the scenery

Finally, obviously, in a former Republic

Total time: 12-13 hours. Total cost: 45 dollars, roughly