Further Wanderings

Karakol has a reputation as being perhaps the most Russian place in Kyrgyzstan. Constructed almost from scratch by settlers in the Tsarist era in a part of the country that had seen no real permanent settlements before. It sits roughly equidistant between huge, slightly saline Issyk Kul and the towering peaks of the Tien Shan, each 6km or so away. The lake wasn’t visible when we arrived, but there was no missing the towering snow capped peaks off to our right as we approached the city. The mountains would make surprise appearances throughout our time there, reappearing and reminding us of their proximity whenever we caught a snatch of the horizon through the buildings.

Perhaps I’m stereotyping, but perhaps it was something related to the Russian-ness of the town that gave it such an odd feeling.

We arrived at the main intersection and managed to find the one budget hotel/hostel in town. But when we found it, it was, like much of the rest of the town, a bit strange.

Mountains on the way to Ala Kol Pass in the mountains behind Karakol

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While my parents had been in Kashgar we’d made an effort to get out and see the sights. When they departed, Sarah and I still had another six days until our Kyrgyzstan visas started their validity period, so we actually did relatively little IN Kashgar.

We sat on the rooftop of the Pamir Youth Hostel. We read books. I wrote. We baked in the early summer Xinjiang heat (it had, of course, stopped raining when my parents went home.) We made salads of cucumber, tomato and onion (three local staples.) And we took turns going on several short missions a day to buy iced tea, bread (expecially “Xinjiang bagels”) and chocolate bars (there was a huge selection of Turkish manufactured chocolate at the local supermarket, doubtless a result of the strong linguistic connection between Uighur and Turkish.)

However the only really interesting thing we got up to wasn’t in Kashgar at all, but further afield and much, much higher up along the Karakoram Highway.

Muztagh Ata (the mountain in the background, 7546m) and the tiny stream that drained the fairly large Karakul Lake (which, as with so many such things, is redundant, as Kul means lake in Uighur)

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