The day before I had had a nasty headwind along with some rain and it was getting cold.
I remember hanging out at one of the gas stations and the attendants were very curious of me. One could speak a bit of English and he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to ride their bike all the way to Bishkek. I was offered vodka as I was leaving, but politely declined explaining I can’t ride my bike if I am drunk.
Across the street from the gas station I had eaten an early dinner, making the record skip a couple of beats as I walked in. I purchased 5 “comcas” on the way out, thinking how the pastry looked so delicious. In my mind it was a nice sweet treat but it’s just a lamb filled pocket.
On the evening of the 25th I camped at the base of the last pass. It was a pleasant and quite place over the hill. I remember looking out my tent after dark and I could see dozens of lights coming up and down…it reminded me of a twinkling Christmas tree.
I wake up a bit later than I had anticipated yet I’m packed and on the road by 10…and when I say late, I mean about 3 hours.
Refreshments for sale.
What we have here are bottles of fermented horse milk, perhaps some yogurts, and these hard balls of sour cheese.
With 2 short breaks I make it up the pass in about 4 hours. A very big surprise to me.
I received a lot of support and encouragement from all the truck drivers up the pass. Even a few waving me to truck surf…which I have still yet to do.
There is a tunnel at the pass, which I was aware of.
I have to wait about 10 minutes as there are 3 herdsmen and 3 dozen horses coming through the tunnel. As I follow the last truck in, a man begins screaming, “Gas Gas Gas”.
Assuming that he is referencing the fumes, I kind of give him a look and expression of having no choice. Then I disappear into the tunnel.
Going slow, as it’s barely enough room for two lanes of traffic…it may be one of the worst pot holed roads I’ve cycled. It’s wet, dark, and dank…and a couple kilometers long. Tunnels are not my favorite but I’m always able to come through. (What about this “Tunnel of Death” into Tajikistan?!)
When I finally exit I have another man wave me over and comes over to me and expresses that I can’t cycle on because of my head condition.
So I do my tunnel test…I shake my head left and right a few times.
Whooooooooooooo, yep, I’m high!
It’s beginning to sprinkle on the other side so after a 15 minute rest I bundle up and begin descending.
The headwind is pretty bad which keeps me from going at top speeds.
At one point I pass an adorable Russian truck driver. He must of been in his early twenties, blonde hair and blue eyes…dressed like a my punk rock friends from Richmond. He’s so adorable…and maybe it’s been too long in Asia…I can’t bare to look at him and can feel myself blushing as I rush by him…with him giving me a big smile and waving at me.
Most of the descent is through the mountains and with the rain trying to arrive…I make an attempt to arrive in Bishkek.
I do 140+km to arrive in Bishkek in the early evening.
So, dear readers, I have now gotten you to Bishkek where my next entries will be Kazakhstan. As I’m currently in Uzbekistan headed for Tajikistan.