Solange Hando appreciates the beauty of Kyrgyszstan
Solange Hando explores the stunning landscapes of this “Little Switzerland” in Central Asia.
LITTLE Switzerland” in the heart of Central Asia? That was intriguing, and for a mountain lover like myself, truly appealing. Only about 10% of land-locked Kyrgzstan is below 5,000 feet, while some of the highest peaks tower above the secondbiggest alpine lake in the world. Wow!
So we flew to Bishkek, the pretty village-like capital nestling in the Tien Shan, the “Celestial Mountains” festooned in ice and snow.
Down town, trolley buses glided along the tree-lined lanes, flower-beds splashed colour here and there and, under the parasols, tiny stalls sold dumplings and fermented mare’s milk, the national drink.
Right in the town centre, a shaded park led us to a spacious square where we watched the Changing of the Guards and marvelled at the White House – the seat of government – and the monument to Manas, the legendary hero who united the original 40 tribes, featured on the flag as 40 rays of sunshine.
We enjoyed the fountains and sculptures of wild horses – so important to the nomads – the art museum and the stylish Opera House, but our highlight was the bustling
Osh Bazaar.
Aromatic spices, fruit, nuts, fresh bread and luscious cakes were hard to resist, though we spared a little time to check out folk instruments and traditional clothes, including the tall white felt hats worn by men.
We lunched on plov, the tasty local stew, and drank plenty of green tea before heading to the Ala-Archa National Park about 20 miles from town.
In a country smaller than our main island, home to around six million people, there are 83 protected areas ranging from nature and national parks to biosphere reserves listed by UNESCO.
They boast among them 4,000 species of plants, many medicinal herbs and extensive forests laced in conifer, spruce, rowan, birch, walnut trees and more.
It’s a haven for birds and butterflies as well as giant marmots, brown bears and the elusive snow leopard.
The mighty statue of an ibex greeted us at the gate by a rushing mountain stream and snow-capped mountains rising over 16,000 feet.
The park claims 50 peaks and some 20 glaciers but we aimed for a gentle trail, a popular escape for city folks in summer, though in mid-September, we almost had it all to ourselves.
A few yurts beckoned in a meadow, a horseman waved along the way and we rambled up the valley at the foot of wooded slopes, emerald green under a bright blue sky.
All around us conifers mingled their fragrance with juniper, the sacred “archa” in the local language which gave its name to the river and park.
Red squirrels played hide-and-seek in the trees, and wild flowers wavered in a gentle breeze.
When the valley opened out on a quiet river bend, we stumbled across the stones to dip our toes in the freezing water.
That night I dreamed of high mountains and babbling streams, but early next morning, we were off through the fertile Chui plain, famous for its apples, stopping for an hour or so in the World Heritage site of Burana.
Out in the middle of nowhere, this was an awe-inspiring place where a lonely minaret looked down on ancient stone carvings and ruins of a mediaeval town.
Men on horseback rounded up their cattle far below and the view spread all the way from the Tien Shan Mountains in the south to Kazakhstan in the north.
Later we drove down the dramatic Boom gorge, soon reaching “apricot land” and a village where we feasted on fruit straight from the orchard and met a family crafting rugs and mats from local felt.
Then our first view of Issyk-Kul, the mighty lake, took our breath away.
At over 5,000 feet, it looked just like the sea, stretching for over 100 miles and nearly 40 miles across in places.
The water does not freeze, thanks to a
micro-climate, and it is part of a biosphere reserve which covers around 20% of the country.
We drove along the north shore close to meadows and hills, while far away across the azure water, snowy peaks peeped in and out of sight like a mirage.
Yurts dozed along the bank and after a long day, we arrived in our overnight resort set among roses and trees.
But just before dawn I left my footprints in the soft white sand to see the sunrise, all shades of pink and gold above the silent water. It was sheer magic.
Not far away, an archaeological site glowed in the wilderness, a vast scattering of rocks and boulders engraved with tribal symbols, some dating back 3,000 years.
Now it was time to make our way to Karakol, an attractive little place for winter sports and summer treks near the eastern end of the lake.
There were poplars along the streets and old houses tucked among flower gardens, vine trellises and fruit trees.
We looked at the wooden church and its glistening green domes and the deserted mosque designed like a Chinese pagoda, then followed the narrow road along the scenic southern shore.
Below the high snowy ridge, bays and coves meandered in everchanging colours, from turquoise and emerald to silver and blue.
We spotted the fairy tale rocks, the “Broken Heart” and the “Seven Bulls”, and trekked in the Skazka canyon where red sandstone cliffs were sprinkled with wild sage and Michaelmas daisies.
Later, the Barskoon Valley held us spellbound, not for the gold mine down the road but for the pristine scenery of conifer slopes and snow-capped peaks.
We picnicked in a yurt with magnificent rugs and I mused in a flower-strewn meadow, listening to the waterfall cascading through the trees.
Clouds gathered on the horizon and lightning flashed across the sky as rain began to fall. But not for long.
A rainbow rose above the river and, deep in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan, I knew I would return to explore more wonders in this faraway land.
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