We're German, German 4

Westwards Ho

No, I wouldn't call you that.

Eventually it was time to leave Bishkek, and I wasn't the only one choofing off.

Ev and sexy Rexy wet off to Kazakhstan.

Jeremy was heading to Tashkent, and then to Samarkand, in Uzbekistan. He forgot to take off his plastic shoe covers, which people were wearing in the hostel, because they were too lazy to take off their shoes. Tut tut.

I said goodbye to my friends Pakistani Naveed and Russian Pavil.

And Aydana too.

They're the sweetest people, I'll miss them.

And finally I was on the road again. It'd been a while since I was back on the saddle of my fully loaded Black Bewdy, and it felt good. My legs definitely felt the ride by the end of the day though, they're a little outa shape after all this public transport and cars and rubbish.

The road skirted along the mountains the whole day. I'll be heading south tomorrow, and will need to get over them.

Back to lunches of lepeishka (nan), tomatoes and cucumbers.

My random lunch spot in the shade. It was bloody hot.

Watermelon man

Cemetery

Ol' Vlad Lenin is still ubiquitous in Central Asia, even after all these troubled years

So are gorgeous and unique mosques

This little fella turned up as I arrived at a guest house in a small town called Kara Balta.

I sent the pic to Jeremy. He was jealous.

Random scenes from riding around town

Over The Hills And Far Away

The next day I had no option but to face it.

It was time to climb some mountains again, really high ones, and I was a little late in getting going.

But the day really didn't turn out anything like I thought it would.

Heading to the hills

This region has gas reserves, there were a few of these on the plains.

And then I started the climb.

Not too long into one of the steep climbs, as I was feeling the pain, a small truck was parked on the side of the road, and the driver was outside his truck, and asked me if I wanted a lift through the tunnels up ahead.

Well, what a bloody stroke of luck that was, as I already knew the tunnels up there are super dangerous due to lack of ventilation, and cyclists aren't allowed inside anyway.

So I accepted the kind offer, and before I knew it, my bike and gear was in the back of the truck, and I was heading up the hill without killing my legs.

Timur, the driver, turned out to be the most warm, generous, hospitable and amazing man. It was an absolute pleasure to spend time with him.

Suddenly I'm in a truck!

Timur, a great man.

Local campers

Moulting sheep, and a little rain

The views were absolutely amazing, I gotta say

Roadside yurt snack stop

Wow, these switchbacks are so easy in a truck!

The tunnel entrance

Inside the death chamber. Vehicles were pumping out thick pollution, and despite our closed windows, it was pretty horrible in there.

The view over the other side of the first high pass. There were more passes to come.

Timur was very happy to have me in his truck - actually, no, I lie - Timur really loved having me in his truck, and insisted I stay with him through the next tunnels.

I wasn't arguing, it was so nice to spend time with him, even though he didn't speak a word of English. We communicated in Russian via Google Translate.

We stopped for an early dinner, of anything veg I could get my hands on, including a Greek-ish salad and some deep-fried samsy, and Timur absolutely insisted on paying. He honestly wouldn't let me get my purse out. Ever.

What a guy.

Love the cracked windscreen.

Timur is sweet. He has three daughters, like me, and one is getting married at the end of the month. He invited me to the wedding in Bishkek, which would be an absolute hoot, but I politely declined, as I'll more than likely be a long way from there by the end of the month.

But we talked a lot, he told me all sorts of things about his life, the struggles he has, and really opened up to me in a way that I'm sure he doesn't necessarily get the chance to do that often. He seemed to really appreciate our conversations. Well, he didn't seem to, he told me many many times how good it felt for him to spend time with me. So so sweet. And of course the feeling was mutual.

The evening scenery was an absolute treat.

Droving on a bike! Well that's new.

The stunning Kyrgyz steppe

Manas on his horse again, unfortunately it looks like his lance got stuck in the Kyrgyz flag, must be so annoying for him.

Cruisin over another pass, this time into Jalal-abad oblast (province).

It was green and forested over the other side of the pass

And then, as the sun was setting, we approached the incredible shores of Lake Toktogul, and the views were to die for, but, confusingly, we didn't need to die for them, they were just there.

Don't see this sort of stuff every day, do ya

Timur insisted we stop and spend the night in a hostel in the town of Kara-kul, and, despite my protestations that I was fine in my tent or even in the truck, he wouldn't allow me to pay for the accomodation either. So sweet.

We shared a small room, and he kept me awake for ages with his snoring, but hopefully I got him back later in the night with my own.

But that's something I guess I'll never know.

To Kochkor-Ata

Timur was also actually supposed to be working while we were galavanting around the countryside.

He drives a refrigerated truck, and delivers frozen and refrigerated foods to supermarkets and other food outlets all over the place.

He got up early and did some deliveries in the town, then did another couple of rounds with me after I got up a little while later.

Our hostel street

The small town of Kara-kul

One of the reasons Timur had insisted we sleep in Kara-kul was because he wanted me to see a certain part of the Naryn River in the daylight. So thoughtful.

Gorgeous colour innit

Fish farms

Another great warrior

Tucking in, Timur scoffed three pieces, me one

Timur kept telling me how much he was enjoying himself

Sweet huh. Even though Timur said these things in private, I think he'd be ok with me sharing them. It just shows you what kind of amazing guy he is.

The truck

Timur had a whole lot of deliveries to do in Maylisuu, a region way up some dirt roads, a long way off the main road.

It was slow, but interesting. The thing is, it was his first time delivering in this region, and, rather than using offline navigation, (which is quite problematic out here anyway because most of the small shops don't appear on any maps), Timur found places simply by stopping all the time and asking people.

It was like being in a rickshaw in India. And just like in India, it took forever.

Old school oil wells. Just like in those old movies in Texas.

Fatima supermarket. One of our many delivery spots.

Off to get a bottle of kvas.

One way to cool off.

Eventually we made it back to the main road, and, of course, Timur bought me dinner didn't he.

Kyrgyzstan is really divided into two separate regions, north and south. The north is way more Russified, the south much more traditional Islamic. Timur referred to people in the south as 'uncivilised,' which is miles away from what I've experienced.

We shared a room again, a bigger one this time.

Dodgy as. A fan without a protective covering, installed right in the doorway. Watch the fuck out as you come in.

Never seen a shithole with such artistic feet

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