Kyrgyzstan — horses, high lakes, and the storm that came for us

I went to Kyrgyzstan with a travel agency and two people I thought were friends. This trip showed me who people really are in tough times.

We met the group in Ljubljana and flew overnight to Bishkek to meet our travel guide. We stayed up all day and had a walk in an unexpectedly beautiful, clean and hot Soviet-influenced city.

Then we rode to a small town, Kochkor, in a marshrutka (a big van) packed with ten of us, no air conditioning — but we knew we were going up in elevation and into the mountains, which made it easier with every passing hour. We were all excited for the 2-day horse ride adventure that was to follow.

The next day we met the local guides — a father and his young sons — got our horses and rode for hours through the most beautiful landscape: rolling hills of various colours, river crossings, steep climbs, and Kyrgyz music played on the phone by the sons. It felt like we were transported back in time and exploring the land the way they did in the past. We felt like part of the family with the way they took care of us.

We reached our camp for the night — traditional yurts. The women were already cooking a delicious dinner for us: usually meat soup with vegetables, black tea, milk products, cookies, sweets and fresh fruit.

The night was rough — I couldn’t sleep because of the black tea and the altitude (we were at around 2500m). But that turned out to give me one of the most surreal experiences of the trip. As I went out to go to the toilet in the middle of the night, huge horned white cows were lying by the path with an amazing starry night above me. It felt like a dream.

As I went back I could see the lightning in the distance. That storm came for us. It was the worst storm I have ever been in — I could feel the thunder in my bones as the yurt shook with wind and rain. It was over fast though, and the yurt held up and made us feel safe anyway. The dogs kept barking through the night, protecting us — there were probably wolves around.

The next day we continued the ride to Song Kul — a lake at over 3000m of elevation. At about halfway we had lunch with a local family in their yurts and watched their traditional horse game, kok boru — like polo, but played with a goat carcass. It was fascinating to see the young men control not only the horses but themselves, with the backdrop of endless rolling hills and the lake far in the distance.

After a few more hours of riding across a huge, vast open plateau we saw many white yurts, one after the other. We finally made it, bruised and broken, and had a nice evening swim at the nearby lake. The altitude showed its power here — all of us had trouble sleeping, with heavy breathing and a racing heart. It felt like we were on another planet.

The next day we traded horses for jeeps and rode on unpaved roads to Kok Kiya valley camp, at 3400m elevation. This was the gateway to the beautiful glacial Kel Suu lake, which we would hike up to the next day.

Now the altitude was picking up — and something even worse was coming for us. A few of the team members started having digestion issues; nothing too serious, we thought. It was about to get a lot more serious.

After another rough night we started the Kel Suu trek to 3600m — not particularly long or challenging, but the altitude sure made it so. After a long walk through the valley between the snow-covered, glaciered mountains and the wild horses, a short climb brought us to the most beautiful lake, an emerald colour nestled between jagged peaks. We took a boat ride on it too — very cold and windy, but it let us see the sheer size up close. The walk back was comically hot and hard, and the health issues were ramping up.

That evening the whole group went down with severe health issues. One person had to be transported down to the valley because of altitude sickness. Still broken and weak, we helped each other get through the night, but none of us slept at all.

In the morning we faced a decision — go down to the valley, or take a 2-day trip to Tash Rabat and push for the 4100m summit. My partner and some others were very sick, so we decided it was best to go into town and rest. We arrived in a small town called Naryn and started antibiotics, which helped immediately. It was nice to rest after such hard days — and later we found out the team had strong winds and health issues too, so most of them couldn’t make the push anyway.

Two days later we met the team and continued to a bigger town, Karakol — nestled between the mountains and surprisingly modern. This was the gateway to a 3-day trek to Ala Kul, the hardest and longest but also the most beautiful part of the trip. I was faced with a decision yet again — go on the trek alone and leave my partner, or stay. They told me to come, but by then I didn’t trust them anymore. And I couldn’t leave my partner sick and alone in a place like that. So I stayed. That was the moment I understood the friendship was over.

While we were in Karakol, we visited Jeti-Oguz and Skazka valley — a completely different landscape of red and brown sandy mountains. It felt like we were in another country.

After a few days we met up with the group again and made our way back to Bishkek along the north shore of Issyk-Kul, so in the end we drove all the way around the lake. It got progressively hotter, so we stopped and swam in this huge lake: the farthest country from the sea had its own “sea,” a salty lake. It was refreshing, and a perfect way to end the adventure. The ride to Bishkek got hotter, and without air conditioning we had a really hard time cooling down — that was the hottest I think I’ve ever been in my life. We were all so happy to arrive at a modern hotel in Bishkek. After visiting the market and having dinner, we had a short night’s sleep and a flight back home.

This trip was the hardest one I’ve ever done. Between the altitude, the health issues and a lost friendship, it took a big toll on my mind and body. But even so, I’m grateful I experienced it. The people were hospitable and kind, the place was raw and beautiful, and the rest of the group showed up and took care of each other when it was needed. The trip even gave me two unexpected new friends. I hope to return one day and experience what I couldn’t.

Good to know#

• Trip: Shappa, “Kirgizija in Kel Suu,” 15 days — about €1,800 with spending and tips.
• Getting there: direct Zagreb–Bishkek both ways (6h), but 2 AM departures and no airport transfers.
• When to go: July and August, for the best chance of good weather. Sunny and moderately windy. We had rain twice, so still bring a rain jacket.
• Money: bring US dollars or EUR to change to som — it’s mostly cash only outside the cities. Basics are cheap (~€1 for 1L of coke, meals ~€1–2), bigger town restaurants are modern and a bit pricier.
• Health: be careful of fresh fruit — I blame the watermelon. Be in good physical shape — you will spend most of the trip at altitudes ranging from 1600m to 4100m. Antibiotics are easy to buy in the cities. Bring hand sanitizer and drink bottled water only.
• Route: Bishkek → Kochkor → Song Kul → Kel Suu → Naryn → Karakol → Jeti-Oguz & Skazka → Issyk-Kul → Bishkek. See the route on Google Maps

More photos#