Whether the weather be...(Bishkek)

6th June

Whether the weather be... (Bishkek)

Heavy rain during the night. Heavy rain when we got up. Heavy rain after breakfast. Decision time? Widely varying weather forecasts - and do you trust them anyway? If we stay another day in Toktogul hoping for the return of half decent weather, can we be sure that it will be half decent? So we decide to move on and set off in the rain, it was quite a heavy down pour. We are in the mountains after all. Gone were yesterday's beautiful vistas.

We have had no police issues this trip. However this morning a Policeman did stop us for exceeding the 40km/h speed limit after a road junction - in pretty close to perfect isolation. He was hidden in the shadows and had a camera. He waved us down and Paul pulled up. He asked us to move to the side of the road. Paul said 'No'. He then started talking about more than 40km/h and Paul just kept saying 'No'. He then asked, 'Tourist ?' To which Paul changed his stock answer from 'No' to 'Yes'. And he waved us on.

First climb was to 3,200m. It was cold at the top. Plenty of snow around but no rain as such - just dampness because we were in the clouds. The poor motorcycle is making all sorts of noises, not all of them due to the poor petrol.

Paul is also paranoid about the clutch which 'doesn't feel right' and is not sure whether it is because he is cold, he hasn't used his winter gloves up until now or something minor, or serious, with the bike itself? But we made it up to 3,200m so there is still some traction. Might also be down to getting stuck in sheep traffic, that went on for over a kilometre. Sheep move slower than even the Harley. Following sheep's backsides with glasses steaming up whilst having to ride the clutch a bit seems slightly surrealistic in retrospect. Whilst speaking of the backsides of sheep - they are rather different here. They are said to be near 100% fat and rather prized. You can have a lump between your lumps of meat on a shaslik - or even 100% sheep's backside if you so wish.

We only descend to 2,300m, which is the plain. It is still quite bitterly cold, still above zero but low, single digits. We are now in yurt territory. There are a fair number of them, mostly selling fermented milk and dried yoghurt balls. Our plan was to stay in one of these yurts that offered hospitality. We had pictured it with the sun shining, sitting outside on the grass with the alpine flowers all around us, a few of the herder's animals contentedly munching the grass around us and, maybe, an evening meal beneath the stars? It wasn't going to be like that today. Cold and miserable came to mind.

 

We also could not understand how it was meant to work as there were a lot of yurts. Was it the ones with red Kyrgyz flags? We did see a row of six yurts set back from the herder's yurts all in a nice line - umhh, getting less idyllic all the time. There is definitely a business opportunity is Kyrgyzstan relating to signage - there are no signs for anything be it road signs or simple 'come stay at my yurt' signs, and shop window dresssing which is simply appalling. How people are enticed into shops is unknown to us. Especially when all shops selling the same thing are grouped together. It won't just be this that we don't understand...

Decisions, decisions. We decide to press on to Bishkek and forget the yurt stay. BUT....

We are cold and wet and some tea, bowl not cup, would be welcomed. Francoise indicates to pull over, just after we had passed something that might have been a chaikana, the usual offering, set back from the route and access by the usual bomb cratered gravel with puddles of undefined depth. Slow U-turn in road, negotiate the war zone and park up. BUT...

Inside, the cafe is magnificent. None of this dirt, dust and grime but bright orange and white with sausage rolls, pies and cakes! And the man spoke English. Clearly this is the other side of yurt life. Perhaps.

At the end of the plain another mountain pass rises to 3,200m again, but this time with a tunnel at the end of it. Concrete base that was quite broken up so very bumpy, but it was reasonably well lit and ventilated. However the fans were extremely loud. Every time we passed one, we felt there was a lorry right behind us about to run us over.

The last 50kms into Bishkek were miserable. Shake, rattle and roll with the pot holes again - broken road, road works, dust, fumes - the what has become the depressing usual whenever we get near a town/city. One wonders how the locals put up with the pollution - we also wonder whether Paul not being well is linked to breathing all this in?

Once in Bishkek we still have another 10kms ahead of us, but the road surface is better and Paul is clearly 'keen' to get to the hotel as we start crossing double white lines, jumping traffic lights and weaving in and out better than the local mini-buses. We don't even get 'horned'. Training in London traffic clearly has its benefits, as long as you can trust the road surface.

Hotel recommends a really nice restaurant for the evening which serves fried bread, soup, pasta equivalent and beer. All is well with the world again.

We quite enjoyed the cafe life in Bishkek - it was far more lively than any of the other capitals we had visited. The city has only existed for roughly the past 150 years. As it was 'just' part of the USSR before, there are no great sights to see. Lots of soviet blocks, a park, a flag, an important looking building, a displaced statue of Lenin and some inviting cafes. And the Bazaar of course bizarrely called the 'Osh Bazaar' in Bishkek, where apparently you can find anything within ten minutes. So we set ourselves the task of some swimming pool flip flops for Francoise and her Charlton Lido as well as  a shoe brush and polish for the motorcycle boots. Eight minutes and less than £3 for the lot. Cheaper than the tea we then had at a very pleasant café on the way back.

About the flag. Red background - Red Russia/Communism etc? Plus a yellow sun because its a nice sunny country? But the hot cross bun in the middle?

Paul had chosen the hotel because its photo showed motorcycles parked in front of it. Paul had spent the morning cleaning the motorcycle but at that time there was only our bike, a small Honda and another bike under a cover. However later on in the evening 34 motorbikes appeared, mostly East European off-road bikes looking to do serious business. A number of people were looking in awe at the Harley and some asked Paul how we had got here - they had all come in two trucks. Paul told them we had ridden here. They looked even more in awe and  asked whether we had done the Pamir. Paul was sorely tempted to say, 'But of course', but was serious worried about his nose elongating if he did so. Nonetheless we might probably be destroying some of the myths with regard to Adventure Motorcycling. 

Fried bread, beetroot, meat and potatoes for dinner at the same cafe. Very enjoyable.

We also found another Greenwich on route - clearly some unknown historic links with Kyrgyzstan. Can't be seafaring.

Just one day off completing our RTW odyssey now.