Karakol - gingerbread houses and the mountains of heaven

Karakol itself is at the far eastern end of the lake near the old military torpedo area. It is situated in a bowl of the ancient flood plain just in front of the mountains. Karakol, which for reasons best known to themselves means “black wrist” in Kyrgyz, is roughly 150 km from the Kyrgyz-Chinese border. It is pretty; crumbling but peaceful. From about 1860, the town was a Russian military outpost, it grew in the 19th century after explorers came to map the peaks and valleys separating Kyrgyzstan from China. In the 1880s Karakol's population surged with an influx of Dungans, Chinese Muslims fleeing persecution in China whose influence can be seen in the local mosque.

In 1888 the Russian explorer Nicholas Przhevalsky died of typhoid in Karakol, while preparing for an expedition to Tibet, and the city was renamed Przhevalsk in his honour. After local protests, the town was given its original name back in 1921 - a decision reversed in 1939. Karakol then remained Przhevalsk until the demise of the Soviet Union in 1991. Not known for being decisive it seems….

We arrived at the out of town bus stop and decided to walk to the planned hostel as the scale shown on the map in The Book looked doable. Unfortunately we totally misread the map and ended up wandering around in the dusk trying to get our bearings. Eventually, and very hungry, we found it – Valentin’s Yak Hotel!

The beautifully named Yak Hotel was a B&B that was almost comfy, if chilly at night as it had snowed and the doors didn’t completely shut. But it did have hot water (some of the time) and the obligatory yurt in the garden to make us feel at home. The rest of the place was decked out in what can only be described as a Kyrgyz take on Swiss Chalet style – not quite Homes & Gardens but nice enough for weary travellers. We were also pleased again meet some more randoms - this time an Aussie couple cycling from London to Sydney who were having a rest as they found cycling after lunch too dodgy with all the drivers setting out after a vodka based meal. Their dinner looked delicious and I was thoroughly looking forward to ours – until a couple of greasy fried eggs were rustled up by an ageing cook with the dirtiest fingernails, but a very welcoming smile. The hostel owner proudly began his welcome spiel and then entertained us with what must be the only video created by the Kyrgyz tourism department and a series of photocopied newspaper articles in a variety of languages, mentioning him and his yaks, as well as an unexplained collection of maps and info about Kazakhstan “Land of Tourism!” - and this was before Borat.

We also learnt more about the hostel owner, Valentin, a man in his 60s with some stories to tell. A stocky figure with a yak stained moustache and a twinkle in his eye, Valentin looked as though he had Russian ancestry and, with his hotchpotch of cold weather clothing, was clearly far more interested in practicalities than fashion. He was obviously a well known figure in the town we couldn’t tell whether this was due to the yaks, his international flavour (so many foreigners!) or just his ancient American jeep. But, whatever it was – he was pretty unmistakeable. As if these weren’t enough claims to fame, Valentin filled us in on his life and family too – all illustrated with newspaper articles. For a generation this man ran the Kyrgyz rally car team and his daughter spent 10 years as the national women’s weightlifting champion. I’d be prepared to bet money that they are the only family in the world with that demographic.

Having warmed up and wound down The Aussie, David and I made plans to head up into the mountains, to Ala-Arushan where there is an alpine valley, some hot springs - and where the President has his holiday yurt. That definitely beats Margaret Beckett and her caravan as a politician’s holiday destination. You frequently hear of Tony Blair taking up the offer of accommodation from a variety of world leaders and international personalities – but I don’t think he’s ventured this far so far… The camp is at about 3,500m so it is quite high up. But the highest peak here is over 7,000m!

These mountains go proudly by the most romantic name I have ever heard: the Tien Shan meaning Celestial or Heavenly mountains. Mind bogglingly beautiful and wreathed in ancient myth these they were considered by early Persians to be the roof of the world. Standing proud to the north and west of the Taklamankan Desert in the border region of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Province of western China, they link up with the High Pamir to the south. The now widely-used name Tian Shen is a Chinese translation of the original Uyghur name Tengri Tagh - Mountains of the Spirits. Incredibly, second highest peak of this celestial range, Khan Tengri (in Uyhur – meaning ‘Lord of the Skies’) marks the farthest north eastern point reached by Alexander the Great in his travels.

The highest peak in the Tian Shen is Pik Pobedy (Victory Peak) which, at 7,439 m or 24,408 ft, is also the highest point in Kyrgyzstan and is on the border with China. Mountaineers class Pik Pobedy and Khan Tengri as the two most northerly peaks over 7,000 m in the world. The Tien Shan are purported to be one of the coldest mountain ranges on earth and one of the least explored. If we had a bit more time (and money!) we'd have the opportunity to go skiing on the glacier that forms the base of one of the high peaks - but that would entail a helicopter in and sadly our budget is not that flexible – and they tend to fall out of the sky!