Kazakhstan border, I’m expecting it to be easy. Usually it’s easy out and difficult in. Usually. At the Kazakhstan border one of the lights is out on a gantry so even though it’s 10am and everyone is wearing welding masks because it’s so bright, they’ve got to fix it straight away. Now. So they close the border to traffic, reverse a big lorry up, put a ladder on top of the lorry, then throw a rope over the gantry and send a trained monkey up to change the bulb. I’m sweating hard, properly dripping. My boots are overrunning like a bath with the taps on full. Fark. Even the flies are stiting in the shade with their wings up. Its a no fly zone.
This is when its most dangerous. My temper is knocking at my mouth trying to get a word in. Never a good sign. Sign fixed and working, pat tested, inspected, double checked and signed off in triplicate. Open again. This should only take a minute….or so. Lots of people cross on foot at this border. Get in the queue. Everyone is about 2ft tall round here and it feels like I’m wading about up to my waist in people soup. Form a queue at a booth that looks like it’s about to open. Blokey has gone in but nothing is happening. I can see him on the computer inside. 5 mins. 10 mins. I think he doesn’t have a computer at home and he’s checking his mail. 15 mins. Now he’s on twitter. 20 mins.
Jeeeeeesus. I think he’s updating his Facebook status.
“Sitting down”
20 mins 5 secs: “Pressing log in”
20 mins 10 secs: “Pressing enter”
My temper is tearing at my tongue, desperate to take control and lash out.
20 mins 20 secs : “Dreaming of the weekend”
I’m not surprised there is so much trouble and tension at borders. This bloke’s brother works at the Ukraine border. He changed his status to “making the Russian pig dogs wait ha ha” and look how that worked out. After about 30 minutes, 20 facebook likes, a dozen re-tweets and a couple of selfies later and he’s on the job at last. You have to have your picture taken as you exit. The camera is set for the locals and is pointing at my crotch. He’s not going to see much there. I have to kneel in front of the slot. Lots of dicking about reversing the bikes and taking pics of number plates etc then we’re free. Kyrgyzstan is the complete opposite. Uber helpful and kind, filling in all the forms for me, i’m in and out in 5 minutes flat. Fantastic.
Kyrgyzstan. What a beautiful place. It’s immediately different. Green, verdant and alive. Mountains queueing up to be awed at. A huge dam with the face of Lenin watching over it blocks an incredible milky blue/green lake swilling about in a big beautiful bowl of tawny, sandy coloured mountain plains, all reflected by an almost unnaturally wonderful washed water colour sky. Places like this are almost painfully beautiful and can bring a lump to my throat. A moving artwork that will never look exactly the same as it does right now, but will still be just as stunning. These few minutes like this in life are where I put my bookmarks. Just Incredible. Super friendly people again. Some try to share apples and tomatoes with us… out of moving cars. Rude to refuse but arse clenching to accept as they drive alongside only inches away hanging out the window. Money here too. Still behind Kazakhstan though. They don’t have any natural resources to rape (except a little gold I think) but they rent land to the big boys to lay overland pipes where the liquid loot flows. Staying at a home stay tonight. 
Tourism is in it’s infancy here and hotels are very very few and far between outside the cities. They have a Community Based Tourism (CBT) network of houses that you can stay at instead. 
It’s another welcome change though. The houses have to have an inside toilet and bathroom to qualify, a surprising rare thing apparently so the owners are ‘relatively’ wealthy by local standards. I much prefer this. Whenever I go abroad now I usually try something like airbnb before hotels, just to avoid staying in some cloned corporate cocoon. Tonight, it’s a nice comfortable house. 
Proper lived in though. No airs and graces. Simple and clean, and all the better for it. Dinner is simple and served in a yurt in the garden. Bed is in a family bedroom whilst the usual resident kips on the couch.
Up early to load up on the cool sweet mountain air my lungs are in love with. Every breath is pure pleasure out here. I think I’ll bring some home in a big balloon and sit in my chair slowly sipping it whenever I feel down. Breakfast under an awning and off we go. God what a relief to see some scenery. Like landing back on earth after being on the moon. 
Totally transparent water wanders about amongst the horsemen grazing cattle eating their breakfast. Air conditioning is at the max. Roads are empty. Biker bliss. Absolute bliss. Yurts with little chimneys puffing out smoke signals to the neighbors. People at the doors watching their cattle graze on these high plains. It’s peculiar how all mountains seem to have their own shapes, colours and coatings. 
Today’s are like huge snow topped dunes, all rusty, red and smooth. The pass tops out at 3300m. High enough to make a difference to the engine on the bike, and the engine on the rider. I feel my heart pumping hard. Maybe it’s just for the view though. I want to get off and walk, take my time, ride in slow motion, just to prevent premature ejection from another perfect panorama. Come here. Come here now. You just don’t know what you’re missing. 
The roads are fantastic too which isn’t helping. All big grippy open sweepers, dips and turns. The engine is singing it’s favorite tune, and dancing along busting it’s favorite moves. It’s a wonderful place to be. Close to heaven. I’ll be going even higher later today, I don’t know how much of this I can take. Can you get too much of a good thing? I think I’ve got a high pleasure thresh-hold, I’ll be fine. The light is just right again. Thin and pale, like looking through a net curtain. This isn’t what I expected at all, especially up here in the wilderness. 
How can two countries be so different? It’s a bit like in Morocco where the mountains can just suddenly shoot up from the plains. The Kazakhstan’s couldn’t be bothered walking up any hills so they just drew a border line at the bottom and let Kyrgyzstan get on with it. It was their loss.
Make a steep sweeping descent from the gallery into a little town lounging by a lake and it’s another home stay, tucked away up a secluded track. It has a solar powered outdoor shower and drop toilets. The drop must be 500ft as there is no smell. 
I have a silent wee. I don’t hear it it the bottom till I zip up and nip out. The house has big rooms with open floors to throw roll beds on. What more do you need? Only fly in the ointment is an American that one of the others has yanked off the street outside. He works for the peace core, which is ironic as all he is doing is shattering it. His name is Max. I think his surname is Volume. Dinner is outdoors amongst the clouds….of wasps. Lots of homemade jam and sugar means swarms are the norm here apparently. I Just hold your nerve and eat normally and all 50000 (and 1) diners all eat in harmony.
This trip is running a lot slower than I’m used to and I’m feeling the need to flee, just temporarily, just to keep moving quicker and to let my eyes enjoy more of this fantastic focal feast. I’ve got a plan. Kyrgyzstan has one of the biggest and highest fresh water lakes in the world but it’s about 400km east from here and not on our route. I’ll break formation for a couple of days and rejoin them in Bishkek. All the roads have been reasonable or good so far. I show a local my plan. They look at me and think I’m insane. 
Turns out they’re right. There is a cross country route that cuts right through the middle. It will be off road for about 300km but as long as it’s just rough that’s fine. I’m told it is very beautiful out there though. The local estimate is 10 hours …. for the first half…. Starts off fine, corrugated and loose but smooth on the edges. That doesn’t last long though. The road gets narrower and lumpier very quickly. 
Turns out the road is a series of very steep mountain passes and the further from the tarmac you get, the worse it gets. The surface changes to whatever strata the mountain is offering at that height. Big big rocks, sand and gravel and mud. It very soon starts to get really stupid steep too. No barriers either. It’s so steep I’m in first a lot of the time and progress is very slow. 
Poor old bike is taking a battering. I don’t see any other traffic with wheels, it all has hooves. There is a decision point after about 150km. Surely I can make it there. In all my trips, this has got to be the worst decision I have ever made. About 50km in and I’m thinking of turning back it’s getting so bad. Pool old bike is on road tyres and it’s difficult to steer on the loose. Progress is painfully slow. 2pm and only 60km done. 90 to go. Getting pretty tired now too. Over 2000m the whole time. The sand is the super powdery, icing sugar variety. Like the dust you tip out of the vacuum cleaner. Fucking nightmare. This is getting stupid now. The bike is having real trouble getting up the steep hills. 
It’s bucking and sliding and trying it’s best to get me off and have a rest. It’s so steep that if I stop, I just slide backwards even with the bike in gear, engine off, both brakes on. Once I slide back about 100 meters steering with the mirrors and hoping to keep it on the rough rather than in the ravine. I meet a couple of Russia mountain bikers. Mad bastards! They say the pass goes up to about 3300m then it gets a bit better on the other side. Ok, thanks. This is madness. I’m alone in the middle of absolutely nowhere with nobody about. The road has turned into not much more than a footpath. There have been rockslides and it’s covered in big loose stones. I drop the bike. It just will not go up the slope. Too loose and too steep. Ummmmmm. A massive jacked up 4×4 appears round the bend towards me, first car I’ve seen all day. I’ve got the bike up and backed down the slope to try again. The driver is making lots of signs about the falling rocks. I think their are some people trying to clear the pass. Shagabollox. I’m not going back now. WTF? He’s making motions that I should use the horn so they hear me coming and don’t push any more rocks down onto me. Fuck the horn, they’d have to be deaf not to hear the relentless torrent of expletives pouring from my mouth at the moment. I’ve got a sore throat from screaming. OK. Rev up and attack the track. Engine screaming, bike bucking and learching, looking for traction. I’m holding on for dear life with legs clamped to the saddle. What an absolutely amazing bike the GS is. It really does astound me on days like this. It’s just incredible. It digs it’s way up the slope and eventually get to where they’re trying to push down the remaining loose rocks.
The road looks like an assault course. How the fark am I getting through that? I’m not is the answer. Get about 50% of the way before the inertia and my luck runs out and the bike goes down. She needs a rest anyway, poor old girl. The only way through is to clear a little path so I spend a few minutes at 3000m moving big rocks and trying to keep my heart from exploding. Through the old girl goes and up to the top of the pass. More beautiful light and clear clean air. The views up here are almost worth the climb, almost. It’s 4:30 now and the sun is falling, it’s time to leave. Only another 40km down. Fortunately the road is a lot better. They’re putting pylons across the mountains and they have almost made it to here. Straighter and a little wider but still very steep and sandy. I fucking HATE sand. The front wheel feels disconnected most of the time. Some people love it I know. They’re mental. Pure and simple.
Lean well back and accelerate is fine on the flat and uphill but down a steep road with shear drops is not funny. Before I came out here my wife gave me 6 four leaf clovers and said to tape them to the bike. I reckon they’ve been working overtime today. I get to the decision point about 5:30. Right is another 150km of unknown rough. Left is 50 miles of rough to the main Osh to Bishkek road. 
Got to be left. Gets dark pretty soon in the mountains. Cant really see the surface in the deep shadows but it feels corrugated and loose. Damping feels all gone at the moment but get going quick and you can skip across the top. No traffic so the bike can drift about and find it’s own way. Reach the road about 6:30-7. 
Relief, relax and ride. Go over another 3300m pass and through a long murky tunnel. Getting pretty cold now and the bike is dragging it’s arse with the headlight in the stars. Towns out here are a long way apart and there is nothing about for a while. Get to a town about 8:30 and find a taxi. Make a sign for sleeping. Follow him to a couple of places. One doesn’t want to know and the other looks as though it has been unoccupied since 1950. The young taxi driver looks at me, I look at him. He seems to make a decision and I follow him back to his house and then kip on the floor in a room with someone else. I’ve been told that it’s Kyrgy culture not to touch foreigners so you feel safe enough. What else can you do? You’ve got to sleep!
When the taxi driver showed me the room last night, the first thing that came to my mind was “one flew over the cuckoo’s nest”. A white asylum ward with thin metal beds and a person moaning in the corner. I saw the other resident of the room for about 5 minutes and thought he was either drunk or a certified loon. When I sat on my bed, my arse touched the floor even though it was 2ft off the ground so I just chucked everything on the floor. Before bed I sat for 30 minutes and watched something American dubbed in Russian and subtitled in Chinese on TV with two other ‘residents’. Eating biscuits and drinking luke warm tea. Anyway, woke up alive, bonus!
Loon is standing over me mumbling something and trying not to dribble in my face. He shakes my hand and drags me to a kitchen that has a nice certificate on the wall that reads ‘The only kitchen ever to defeat Kim and Aggy’. Turns out loon is really a nice friendly bloke, just maybe short a few cells. He’s jabbering away and not giving up. He wants to give me breakfast but I’m not sure my stomach is strong enough. I’m sure it’s fine but I’m not hungry. Just chai from a dirty mug with a broken handle. 
Go outside for a gander. The taxi driver last night was pointing to cameras on the walls. the house is quite isolated so I thought this might be a bad area but it turns out the father of the house owns some sort of transport operation and there are loads of big Chinese and Russian trucks behind some gates. I think the workers kip in the rooms, or ‘wards’ in my case. I met a few of them last night. Traveling alone like this is just soooo much better than in a group. It really is. Sitting with a load of people who have no english and working stuff out with gestures and drawings. I should definitely do this again. So I draw my host a picture of a motorbike and tyres and that that I want to change. I’m carrying some spares. I had a look this morning and even though there is plenty of tread left they are covered in cuts and scars from yesterday. There are flaps of rubber hanging off the treads and they look like a puncture waiting to happen. I’m amazed they didn’t puncture yesterday.
I follow him round town to small operations changing tyres. Nobody wants to touch a bike. I tell the 5th bloke we visit that I’ll take the wheels on and off and then he’s game. Get the tyres off. the rim has defiantly taken a few hits. In another schoolboy error I’ve bought the wrong size front tyre! It’s a 100 not a 110 so it needs more persuading to get it on to the wide rim. He uses the ‘lighter fuel’ approach. I’ve seen this on TV in the arctic. Put the fuel in, ignite and the expansion pulse pushes it on to the rim…or not. 
Takes a few tries and I can definitely smell burning rubber but it goes on OK. The bloke has no eyebrows and nose hair so I think this is a regular thing. The rear is easier except the caliper seems to have seized in the dust. Price? £3. Off to Bishkek, the capital. Nice hotel, complete opposite to yesterday. Bit of a boutique feel. I walk through the door looking like I’m the first human ever to be assembled purely out of dust particles and the maid nearly has a heart attack. I’m surprised they didn’t jet wash me on the steps. Hotel Futuro – Italian again. The only shower I’ve ever been in with a mirror in the cubicle. It’s more than 3ft off the ground though, so it’s no use to an Italian.
A day off the bike in capital Bishkek. Today I’m going to take the ‘gift challenge’. Not as easy as it sounds. Kyrgyzstan is not set up for tourists yet and most of the the stuff for sale looks like tat from a car boot sale that you let kids buy for pennies. Perhaps my wife would like a small green frog on a yellow flower, or a pairt of 1950’s cats, or perhaps a glass Eiffel tower, or maybe even a plastic tomato alarm clock? It’s all here. We go to an old soviet shopping centre. 4 floors. I’m looking for something, anything, absolutely anything to buy as a gift. Seriously, it looks like the store’s buyer is Uncle Bulgaria from The Wombles. It’s full of the stuff ‘everyday folks leave behind’. I’ve never been anywhere like it. I think my wife is just going to get a bag of fresh air. I’m with a Norwegian bloke. 
I ask him what he is going to get his Thai girlfriend. “I’ve got two things for her” he says. “A big bag of dirty washing, and a hard on”. What more could a girl ask for! Walking down the street we’re stopped by two young women. My mate is just about to hand one of them his bag of washing when we discover they’re flippin Jehovahs witnesses. Bloody hell. Run! It’s not a bad city Bishkek. Busy and bustling. Thrill seekers can ride the taxi’s and enjoy the mm perfect coordination of the vehicles as they speed through. Pretty cheap too. Later I take the bike for a jet wash. The jet is about 500psi and needs a team of 4 to hold on to it. I’m standing about 200 meters away from the bike but the sprayback is drenching me. This is more like an exfoliation than a wash. bits are flying off in all directions. I hope they’re not important. Bike doesn’t care though. Just shrugs it’s big metal shoulders, shakes like a big wet dog and off we go.
Heading out of Bishkek today. The planned destinations mileage isn’t a big enough dose for my condition and I’ll get the DTs if I don’t treat it properly so I decide to detour alone round the big lake I failed to make it to the other night. I’ll meet up with the others tomorrow night. 
Luckily there is a popular destination about 250 miles away right on the far east of the lake that’s hooked up to booking.com. Book and go technology. Got to love it. I’m off:) I’m sat at some lights in the city on the way out. The roads are all shiny and grip less. Two cars skid towards each other and crash but there is no squealing of tyres, just an odd scrubbing sound. Out the city and into the countryside. 
It’s quite flat just here and there are crops growing in the shadows of the mountains. Lovely sunny and cool again. Absolutely Perfect. The lake is about 80 miles long. I’ll go along the north side today then back along the south tomorrow. The lake is a brilliant blue with a white sandy shore. Super clear water winking in the sunlight. I take a small track down to the water’s edge. Season is over but there are still people swimming and sunbathing. Standing on the shore looking across the lake at the faded sketches of mountains on the horizon wouldn’t believe you were in Kyrgyzstan, or at a lake for that matter. There is a peace here. Something you can’t put your finger on. Something appealing to my senses that I don’t understand. Something native. I dunno, anyway, it feels very therapeutic and that’s all that matters. As you ride along the shore there are new developments going up everywhere. 
Thankfully not big hotels blocking the views, usually nice chalets and cabins, some exclusive looking houses too. It’s a nice area for sure. I get to Karakol in the lap of more mountains. This place gets a lot of tourists by their standards due to the hiking and climbing. Sure enough, get to the guest house and there is a gimeganourmous truck with english plates on the drive. It’s taking people from Bejing to Istanbul. There are a load of horay Henry’s here too, british army officer recruits out to ‘learn some common sense’ according to the man in charge. Can’t they do that in Wales or somewhere? 
Why do they have to come out here? Don’t get me started! Anyway, they turned up without a reservation and the whole house is full. They’re playing human jenga on the floor trying to use their new found common sense to find space to sleep. Anyway, I’ve been put in another house next door. It’s HUGE and has about 20 bedrooms but it’s been closed since the end of the season – so a whole house to myself for $15. Bargain.
When I get up the sandhurst lot have already done 3000 sit ups, 1000 star jumps and run a marathon before breakfast and have disappeared into the mountains. Karakol has a nice atmosphere even though it’s a bit of a shit hole. God knows what I ate last night too. Could have been anything. Goat/horse/dog/tourist/whatever. I’ve given up with menus. They’re impossible. I just choose the most expensive thing hoping it will be the biggest and best thing they do. It hasn’t killed me yet anyway so that’s good. Another of the riders arrived here late last night so together we go off to see the local famous Jewish Orthodox Church in town. 
It’s a real beauty. Build in dark wood with bright green towers. Lots of chanting and the smell of incense drifting from the inside. Lots of women with small children outside chanting and gently rocking in time. Feels a bit weird to be honest. Out along the south of the lake. The road runs a lot closer to the water on this side and its generally a lot less developed, including the road which is pretty shit. Rough tarmac is often the worst with its sharp edges and big holes. Reach the main artery and head south to meet the others. Roads are all up. Up as in very high, and up and in not down. 
This road is an artery from the China border and there are processions of Chinese trucks going both ways. The Chinese are investing in this road as it’s in their best interest to get the goods in as easily as possible but at the moment its all under construction. 
It’s a dusty climb in the clouds of the trucks but the view at the top is just beyond magnificent. It has that ‘roof of the world’ feel with the super white clouds just skimming over your head and bouncing over the tops of the mountains like balloons slowly surfing a crowd. 
A blue black sky and a falling sun complete the perfect picture. Snap. What a lucky bastard I am. Down out of frame I go and back into the mechanical melee and on to Naryn where we’re staying tonight. Another home stay. Approach from the outside and it looks like a drugs den but inside its clean and tidy and it has an enclosed courtyard for the bikes to bed down in. The town though, bloody hell, what a mess. We’re on the edge of the country now and this place has a very forgotten feel about it. Looks like it was built for £20 50 years ago then left. There are some dutch people staying at the home stay that are helping out at a battered wives shelter. It’s that kind of place.
Last day in Kyrgyzstan today. Out to Tash Rabat where there is an old silk road roadhouse nestled away. It’s up close to the China border. Out we go. More roadworks. Red Clay + water = arse + ground. I did at least manage a couple of very Torvill and Dean like slides before going horizontal and as I try an get up I did see a 5.5 from the Russian judge. 
Road soon turns to prestige Chinese tarmac though and it’s a lovely ride across a wide lush plain where I watch two weather systems fight it out. Sunshine and fluffy clouds in the left corner, evil dark rain clouds and a gale in the right. It has just reached the shoulder barging stage and I’m shunted from one side of the road to the other with the bike leaning hard into the wind. Vistas like this make the journey. 
It’s getting pretty cold and raining hard but the skyline is such a distraction that you just don’t register anything else. A 15km climb up a rough track and there are yurts awaiting us in a valley by a stream. It’s going to be flippin cold up here tonight!
There is something lovely about being in a yurt after dark. All sat round a table in the warm with the freezing wind blowing and light rain tinkling on the roof. The owners at the camp spend May to September up on the mountains to try and make enough money to see them through the winter when they’re snowed in like hibernating bears. Hard life up here. They’ve a 5 year old daughter who seems to spend her time tormenting goats and training them to perform tricks on motorbikes. Bloody things have been climbing all over the bikes eating everything. Anyway, after dinner in the warm dark yurt, she does a little Kyrgyzstan dance for us. She’s a very beautiful little thing with a face like a Japanese cartoon, dancing in the dark. I’ve see a lot in my life, but that’s a yellow sticky in my skull. 
The night was absolutely freezing, the bed was made for one of the 7 dwarfs and I have to defrost my legs with a blow touch. Open the little door, step out, stretch and …. stare…. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know what day it is. I don’t care. I just stare. There is nobody else about. No one. The only ones up are me and the sun, and it’s been hard at work painting out the shadows, colouring in the slopes and setting alight every little jewel of dew. My eyes are having an awe-gasm. 
My vocabulary doesn’t stretch this far. Fuck…Seriously..Shit! I run about trying to catch the scene as it evolves and dissolves in front of my eyes. The camera would never ever do it justice. Never. By the time the others fall out the tents the moment’s passed. I feel like I’ve been told a special secret or something.
Anyway, reality is it’s China day today, here at last. Up to the roof of the world again. Well, pretty high anyway. Tourgart pass tops out about 3750m. 
Brilliant bright light fills every space and washes all the colours out like somebody turned done the saturation. The Chinese are are busy laying Tarmac but it’s not done yet and there is plenty of loose rough and big holes to concentrate on. Nowhere near as bad as what we’ve been used to. It’s beautiful and bright and a lovely place to be. Get out through Kyrgyzstan customs and then climb up to the clouds and the gates to nomansland
