Horses and yurts

The last couple of days have been spectacular. We hired horses and a guide through CBT from some shepherds close to Kochkor and rode them over a mountain pass to Song Kul, an alpine lake (translates as ‘Convenient Lake’, which it certainly wasn’t!)

On the way we ate and slept in yurts belonging to shepherds. They are made of felt and smell a bit muttony, but are surprisingly cosy (at least they are once they’ve piled 7 duvets on top of you).

Having pretty much had our fill of mutton and noodles, mutton soup and mutton kebabs, the lake provided some excellent barbequed fish for the meals on the second day. That feeling of congealed mutton fat on the roof of your mouth is not something I’ll miss about Central Asia. Homemade cream and strawberry jam on freshly baked bread to finish every meal I think we will miss.

The horses were well behaved – the only scary moment was when mine bolted at the sight of a shepherd walking towards us carrying a calf over his shoulder. Apparently the sight of a man-cow was just too disconcerting to stay calm, but I stayed on. Later the sound of putting on or taking off my coast would have a similar effect. Twice

Apparently the Kyrgyz don’t name their horses, but when pressed, the shepherds told us we could call them Blacky, Patchy and Farty. In Kygyz, of course.

Arriving back in Kochkor yesterday we took a shared taxi to Bishkek, where we arrived last night (hence the sudden flurry of posts). Somewhat saddle-sore but clean and learning to enjoy $2-a-bottle Moldovan wine, first impressions are positive.

Photos of Song Kul to follow (when Trevor stops reading about Michael Jackson and gets on with uploading them).

Gemma