We left talas after getting the most important stuff from the market: bread, water, butter ( it is cold enough for butter again:0)) and began on our first real mountain pass which should take us two days. The first day was smooth
accent and we made 70 km. the mountains before us once again showed me how small we humans are and how unimportant many so called problems.
Because we hadn’t calculated this day in our plans and through this had one day extra, we decided to stay in the valley where we had slept, half day longer to repair and build stuff.
When we left dark clouds had gathered at the sky and a thunderstorm with heavy rain made it easy for us to leave the wonderful camping place.
Now the real pass was beginning. Serpentine roads, no trees anymore, rocky hills and believe it or not. Snow.
Not even 3 days after leaving the heat of Kazachstan temperature had dropped to about 10*C and we were happy to not have thrown away our winter clothes. This climate change o course is extra exhausting. But, we still made it. After 5 hours of serpentine road riding we reached the pass.
I would never have thought that I could drive up about 1500 hightmeters with a bike that weights 60 kilos. The air is remarkably getting thinner an breathing is not as easy any more as in the flatlands. Still the “training” in Kazachstan did its job and we reached the 3327 meter high pass with only three quick brakes. That was real sport, Paul and I agreed. We had never been that high with a bicycles before.
Up here people live in so called “yurta”, which to me look like huge tents but are made of leather, fur and textile.
On the pass an old man invited us to his yurta to sleep there. We had to deny because it would have been a detour of nearly 20 km to the next valley. We were to tired to make it there.
We drove down the pass and even began on the next pass. After about 5 km we had to settle because we were to tired to go on.
Then the old man suddenly stod next to us again with a photo in his hand.
On the picture was his family and a German guy called Oliver Neye who had been hiking here in 1988. The old man asked us to say greetings to Oliver
when we are back and gave us the address. Unbelievable, Oliver is actually a neighbor of us. He lives in Karl-Marx street in Berlin, a few hundred meters away from our flat.
Now I sit next to a crystal clear river, sheep, cows, horses, goats, dogs and mules surround me an writing this post is interrupted by shepherds asking the same old questions. But I don’t mind, we came to their beautiful country and they are so friendly that the answers on their questions is the least we can give them back.
Communicating by the way gets better and better. Our Russian is good enough to have a standard conversation with the inhabitants of these countries. And still learning:0).
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