Afghan Yurt Stay

Amongst Afghanistan's numerous ethnic groups are a small number of Kyrgyz herders who purportedly fled Stalin's purges in the early 20th century and became trapped in the Wakhan Corridor once international borders closed. Fewer than 1400 of these nomads remain, eking out an existence with their flocks in the remotest mountain valleys.

Bozai Gumbaz is the furthest point on our trek. It is a Kyrgyz yurt settlement and as far from civilisation as I have ever been. The wind whips icily around the felt yurts as I sit shivering in the last few rays of sunlight. Within a few days the Kyrgyz themselves will have left the mountains, retreating to lower ground during the bitterly cold winter months.

Our shelter tonight is a traditional felt bozui or yurt. We were initially offered room in a brand new plastic yurt but had to decline - it had the insulating properties of a bin bag. Felt is much warmer and the natural oils in the wool make it largely waterproof.

We were shown instead to what normally serves as a storage yurt. There is a dirt floor, partially covered with a plastic tarpaulin. Light enters the yurt through an open cartwheel in the roof known, as in Kyrgyzstan, as a tunduk. This hole also lets out smoke from the fire. Three breeze blocks hold in place dried yak dung cakes and a coarse, fragrant bush whilst they burn. The dung is surprisingly odourless and the small amount of smoke is a small price to pay for the warmth.

*****

Building and maintaining a smoke-free yurt is an art form and, sadly, not a skill that I have acquired.  Once our army of small boys had satisfied their curiosity and departed for bed, we were left to our own devices. Within fifteen minutes we may as well have been sitting inside a bonfire, only without the advantage of being toasty warm. The heat managed to escape through the tunduk and also through the now-evident holes in the wall and roof. Thick, slightly acrid smoke lingered in the air, burning our eyes and catching in our throats. We buried down in our sleeping bags, scarves across our faces, to spend a cold and not very restful night in the yurt.

Back in the USSR: Introducing Kyrgyzstan

Kyrgyzstan is a country with a distinctly split personality. High altitude gold mines, Lexus 4x4s and brash Russian lake resorts appear to herald a Las Vegas of the steppe, but they stand side by side with nomads in yurts, un-spoilt landscapes, and the genetic descendants of Genghis Khan. This eclectic mix makes it hard to pin down a single national identity for Kyrgyzstan, but ensure it is a fascinating destination for those willing to make the trip.

We first arrived in Kyrgyzstan almost by accident, becoming stranded in the capital, Bishkek, after particularly heavy snowfall. 93% of the country is mountainous and, in places, the snow never melts. Bishkek, however, usually enjoys slightly warmer climes and its partly for that reason that the city has been able to grow from a tiny 19^th century Russian garrison town into a buzzing metropolis today. Although geographically to the north of Kyrgyzstan, Bishkek is very much the country’s heart: economically, politically and culturally, almost everything is centered around the capital.

Its in Bishkek that Kyrgyzstan’s Russian side is most clearly evident. The Bolshevik military leader, Mikhail Frunze, was born here, the capital used to be named in his honour, and a street and museum still bears his name. Statues of Marx and Lenin are noticeably more conspicuous than in other post-Soviet states, and a visit to the State Historical Museum will introduce you to a fabulous Cold War relic: a cowboy clad in stars and stripes, riding high on a Pershing missile. For those with an interest in high-culture, the National Opera House, built prior to the Russian Revolution, is housed in a charming neo-classical building and hosts regular performances of opera and ballet by local and visiting troupes.

When the weekend comes, Kyrgyzstan’s elite head out west to join Russian and Kazakh tourists in resorts on the shores of Lake Issyk Kul. This volcanically heated lake is the second largest alpine lake in the world (after Lake Titicaca), and during the long summer the beaches are packed with beautiful bodies sunning themselves: think of it as Central Asia’s Monaco. If sunbathing isn’t your thing, you can befriend an oligarch with a gin palace, climb onboard a banana boat  or even go hunting for the remains of Soviet torpedoes and ancient cities buried beneath the waves.

Kyrgyzstan’s second side is distinctly quieter: it lacks the bling and the noise but, in spite of that, it is all the more enthralling. Wide open landscapes, unclimbed peaks and pristine glaciers beckon those prepared to leave the roads and continue on foot or on horseback. You won’t find a single hotel here: your hosts are the nomads in their tents, villagers in single-storey houses, and, if you choose to camp, the hillsides themselves. This is an ancient land, traversed by pilgrims, traders and travelers for thousands of years. When you climb into the mountains, you leave the present behind you and see the legacy of those who have gone before: pagan shrines with flags and goat skulls, Buddhist rock carvings, and distant look-out posts.

To understand the traditional spirit of Kyrgyzstan, you should look no further than a horse. The Kyrgyz say that a horse is the soul of a man and that it can carry him up into the heavens. Children can ride as soon as they can walk, and adrenalin-fuelled displays of horsemanship will garner a man respect. Whether you’re a Grand National winning jockey or a complete novice, you should take to the saddle for a few days, go well beyond the beaten track, and get up close and personal with nature. The mountains loom overhead, golden eagles soar, and snow leopards, Marco Polo sheep and ibex stalk the passes. There are no creature comforts up here, so bathe in the thermal springs and sleep each night on a pile of rugs in a round felt yurt, the traditional nomadic tent. The physical exertion may tire your body, but the peacefulness  revitalizes mind and soul.

Kyrgyzstan is yet to fully open up to tourism, and this is its beauty. The terrain is pristine, the people genuinely hospitable, and you won’t compete for space with tour buses and school groups. Now is the time to go, however, as things are set to change. Relative political and economic stability is attracting attention and investment from China and Russia, not to mention western powers. Multi-million dollar plans for ski resorts, shopping malls and super casinos loom large on the horizon and, although they may fit with some aspects of Kyrgyzstan, they risk engulfing the other parts altogether. Pack up your boots and phrasebook, and get on the plane.

Photos C. Tracing Tea 2008-2010