Four Seasons in One Week
Everyone said today was the day to hike to Altyn Arashan. It was a short day hike which ended in a valley with some guesthouses. From there, the following morning, prospective climbers would make the more gruelling ascent to Ala Kul Lake, the spectacular high-altitude lake high above the mountain range.
But I wasn't going that day. I had just arrived in Karakol. It had been a long time since I'd been at higher altitude and I didn't want to test my hiking ability on a multi-day climb that I still wasn't sure that I wanted to do. Though the weather was closing in. A cool change was expected the country in coming days with temperatures dropping rapidly, rain expected in lower altitudes and snow in higher altitudes. It felt like now or never.
But I didn't do something just because it was the 'thing to do.' It's something I'd learned through my travels a while ago. Sure, when you are in a place, it's a good idea do the things you do there. Getting a slice of pizza in southern Italy is a good idea, getting a slice of pizza in southern Thailand, not necessarily a good idea. But the opposite wasn't true. I didnt have to do something just because I was there. If I wasn't in southern Italy I didn't have to eat a Pizza Margherita for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's important during long-term travel to act on how you feel at that point in time.
And, when I had just arrived in Karakol, I felt I needed to acclimatise and get back into hiking slowly. So I opted for a short day hike through the valley under the foreboding mountains that everyone else was so desperate climb. A hike that was called the Ak-Suu Arboretum as a result of its course through the tree-filled valley.
The walk was pleasant and, aside from the initial ascent from Karakol, it wasn't too enduring. Best of all, there was no one else on the hike. Rolling hills that arose from behind the southern edge of the city were only frequented by sheep being herded by local shepherds on their horses. Passing down into the valley and the evergreen landscape I was only met by a couple of horses grazing amongst the trees. I passed some old cattle stations and was met by some cows towards the end of walk who nodded the way towards Ak-Suu to catch the bus back to where I had started. Thankfully I didn't have to wait for the bus as some local vegetarian Jehovah's Witness who were visiting a hot spring picked me up and gave me a lift back to down. With a spring in my step from my day of solo hiking I felt rejuvenated and ready for more walks to come.
Autumn
I chose to take the risk and hike up the hill. I knew where I was going there would be a roof over my head so, even in bad weather, I could stay dry. Like the day before, I wanted to walk alone. I had found it quite invigorating. He night before I had also talked to an American man who had walked the Appellation Trail over many months. He told me how he was obsessed with hiking now, how he found it difficult living in 'society' and how he could now communicate with wild animals and insects. Keen to build on my Dr Doolitle abilities, I felt encourages to hike alone.
My hike alone started with Ayuko, a woman from Kyushu in southern Japan. She was heading up to Altyn Arashan for the night too, so it was decided that we might as well begin the hike together. We began the hike where I had finished my day hike on the previous day. Following the river uphill, the autumnal vegetation was on wide display. Trees covered in orange and yellow and brown leaves painted the lower sides of the surrounding mountains.
The hike began with just the two of us but as we approached the halfway mark we began crossing paths with those hikers who were coming down from their night spent up in Altyn Arashan. And, with it, came a progressive reunion of many people I had met in Kyrgyzstan in the past two weeks. I think Ayuko was surprised by how often we would pass someone that I already knew.
A Hong Konger I'd met in Toktogul warned me that the hike up to the lake was a "disaster." He used the word 'disaster' about fifteen times in our five minute crossover conversation. I didn't need more convincing, I was happy just staying up for the one night and coming back down.
Later we tried to overtake some Koreans who were walking too slowly uphill. One of the Koreans was, in fact, Japanese and of course I'd met her already at a hostel in Bishkek a week before. She abandoned the slow Koreans and joined Ayuko and myself as we continued up hill.
Of the six guesthouses in Altyn Arashan, the valley in the clouds, only three were left open so late in the season. Thankfully they all had natural hot springs attached so after dropping my bag in the main mess area of the second guesthouse, the boiling natural bubble bath could begin healing my tender legs. Luxuriating in the hot mineral water, the rain began pelting outside. I choose to put aside the thoughts of the muddy trek I would have to endure downhill the next day.
Despite only two other pepole checking in to the guesthouse that afternoon I, of course, had already met one of them ten days beforehand.
Winter
The old mining town was supposed to be good for day hikes. I was uninterested in overnight or multi-day treks and, having just enjoyed the luxury of a hike that ended in a hot bath in a building with electricity, I was keen to continue with this more civilised form of hiking. The small town didn't have any restaurants or really any shops so you stayed with a homestay who would could you your dinner and breakfast.
The one hour bus ride began with a thin layer of snow shrouding the surrounding landscape. The temperature may have risen later in the day but at nine in the morning the snow wasn't going anywhere. As we got closer to Jyrgalan on the one hour drive the thin layer of snow became thicker and thicker until we arrived a town that now looked like an early-season ski village. If I had been in Thredbo people would've said it was a good year.
So Jyrgalan had recived a bit more than a dusting of snow. The prospect of hiking up to higher altitude in my not-at-all-waterproof sneakers seemed unlikely. But I was here, so I would make the most of it.
During the day I began three or four different hikes but completed none of them. After walking along a road, I would reach the point where the road became a path. But there was no path, there was only snow. Falling accidentally into the river was the only likely outcome of following a pathless trudge through the powder. So each time this happened I had to turn around.
By late afternoon a considerable amount of the snow had melted away. The overcast day that had preceded this one was long gone and now there was only sunshine and snow.
Summer
What had become known as Fairytale Canyon, near the town of Bokonbayev, was a red rock-filled stretch just up from the lake's edge. The rusty soil and jagged rock formations were reminiscent of something out of Arizona or Utah. The harsh sun shone down on a neck that had been whipped by a wintery wind only a few days prior.
Hiking to a hill overlooking the canyon, I looked over the scene. An orangey canyon and then a huge lake. The coast on the opposite side of the lake got lost in the horizon so the snow-capped mountains appeared to float high in the sky over the lake.
In a week I'd seen so much.
This post was uploaded two weeks late due to a site blocking issue in Kazhakstan.
