Ana Zamorano, Author at Adventure Cycling Association https://www.adventurecycling.org Discover What Awaits Mon, 25 Mar 2024 19:16:52 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.5.5 https://www.adventurecycling.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/cropped-web_2-color_icon-only-32x32.png Ana Zamorano, Author at Adventure Cycling Association https://www.adventurecycling.org 32 32 Ski Bike https://www.adventurecycling.org/blog/ski-bike/ https://www.adventurecycling.org/blog/ski-bike/#respond Wed, 20 Mar 2024 18:06:55 +0000 https://www.adventurecycling.org/?p=56731 When I first suggested the idea of merging skiing with bikepacking to Diego, his round blue eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Looking back, I can understand […]

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When I first suggested the idea of merging skiing with bikepacking to Diego, his round blue eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Looking back, I can understand his reaction — I was improving my ski touring skills at that moment, while he was new to bikepacking. He had recently acquired his first touring bike and had only a handful of short pannier-packing experiences. The idea of blending off-road cycling, camping, and skiing felt too big to comprehend.

But that was a few years ago. Diego is someone who requires time to mull over an adventure, to mentally prepare for it, whereas I am the antithesis — impulsive. Life, I’ve come to realize, is all about balance. I embrace adventure; he delves into technique. Thus, weʼve found the right match.

While traveling by bike is straightforward in terms of terrain, security, and technique, ski touring requires quite a lot of knowledge regarding each of them. Nevertheless, both of the sports have quite a lot in common. The main one? The adventure itself. Our initial experiment that intertwined these two pursuits granted us insights into our limits, appropriate gear, and the crucial considerations of timing, location, and terrain selection. We agreed we wanted to ride off-piste, loaded with camping and ski touring gear, with the goal of spending a few nights in the Spanish Pyrenees.

HellBikes
Stopping by a crystal-clear river to have lunch, soak up some vitamin D, and immerse ourselves in the water was rewarding.
Ana Zamorano

I still hadn’t gained as much confidence in skiing as I had in bikepacking — this was only my second year hitting the slopes — but Diego felt just the opposite. He has been skiing since he was a little kid, so we both tried to support each other in the sport where we had the most experience.

Our first multisport adventure came in January 2023. We took advantage of the mild winter Europe experienced during the 2022/23 season. It only snowed a few times, and even the ski resorts didn’t have much snow until mid-January, leaving large swaths of grass and gravel exposed and perfect for cycling. As the saying goes, darle la vuelta a la tortilla — “to turn the tables” — so we planned a cool, short adventure to conclude our Christmas holidays.

The snowfall we had in the Pyrenees wasn’t enough to cover the valleys, leaving only the higher peaks at around 6,550 feet blanketed in white. There was some snow, but we needed to be creative to find it. As Diego knows the Pyrenees like the back of his hand, he charted a route that intertwined gravel paths and ski touring. Rehearsal day finally arrived, and we were equally excited and nervous about facing our first gravel-skiing experience ever. During that day we learned a lot, not only about attaching the skis properly to a gravel bike but also about the limits of our bodies. After ascending 2,300 feet with fully loaded bikes, we left the bikes and the rest of the gear we did not need on the grass. We wore skis, boots, proper clothing, and a backpack with all the safety gear you need for ski touring plus some food and water. By midday, I was dehydrated and exhausted; it turns out combining these sports in the same day requires a lot of effort and great fitness and conditioning. As it was winter, days were short and we had to be aware of the natural light and conditions of the snow as it kept changing throughout the day.

HellBikes
As they gained meters, the views of this part of the Pyrenees improved.
Diego Borchers

Now that we’d done a successful test run, it was time to stretch out the adventure. This second experience felt much better than the first. The days were longer, our gear-packing skills were refined, and our confidence in both sports was growing. Easter was the perfect time to take some days off in a magical and remote corner of the Spanish Pyrenees: the weather was on our side with shiny days and the snow was still playful considering the little precipitation we had during the winter.

Preparations started days ahead, given the meticulous planning necessary. As time went by, we found ourselves loading gear next to the Bubal Dam in the stunning Tena Valley. Two fully loaded gravel bikes with food for four days, camping gear, and ski touring stuff set us up to have probably the most amazing days of the last winter. The first miles are always to get adapted to the weight and be mentally prepared for the adventure ahead. I felt excited, nervous, and intrigued, but somehow happiness was my main state. Our bikes wobbled under the load, passing cars with mutual respect during the first miles before we turned onto the gravel mountain trail. Once we left the asphalt, jackets were removed as the sun’s rays began to warm our skin. We had almost 3,000 feet of climbing ahead, promising breathtaking views and no urgency to reach the small open shelter we found on the map. Our fingers were crossed, hoping the shelter — which cannot be reserved — wasn’t already occupied. We carried our tent just in case.

HellBikes
The open hut was the perfect base camp for a bivy. The only disadvantage was that it felt like a fridge.
Ana Zamorano

The shadow during the first portion of the ascent helped us a lot by keeping us cool as we needed a longer warm-up to get adapted to the gravel path. As soon as we climbed, trees receded, the sun intensified, and the views got better. The lowlands were getting greener while the high peaks were still covered with snow. We did not yet see the peak and the area we wanted to ski tour, but we could make out some of the lifts from Panticosa ski resort. These days were the last of the season, and the slopes were surviving with the thinnest layer of snow I have ever seen in a resort. We continued cycling up, enjoying the views and how the scenery kept changing as we gained altitude. The first break came by midday when we found a cold, crystalline mountain stream, the ideal scene for lunch and a refreshing dip. Meanwhile, the sound of the marmots and the smell of the mountains created an ambience that reminded us that spring was just around the corner.

Intermittent downhill stretches provided respite for our legs and gave our eyes a chance to bathe in the beauty of the place. On one side, you could find the river and its steady sound by a big, green field almost ready to bloom; the other boasted brown and gray stone walls rising majestically. A cascade of snowcapped peaks, crowned with the mountain we sought, gradually emerged. At last, we could see our base camp for the following days in the distance. We got ready for the last stretch of our cycling adventure with big smiles on our faces.

HellBikes
The author used crampons to climb one of the first slopes at the foot of the mountain.
Diego Borchers

The valley turned west on the following big slope. It required brief pushing due to steep terrain and sizable rocks. The path we followed zigzagged across challenges like sticky mud and snow-cloaked paths. We again pushed the bikes over the snow, leaving an even track on it. Screams of joy, wet feet, stunning views, and startled-looking marmots were all there was in the scene. I suppose we were some of the first human visitors that these marmots had seen this season. They seemed to wake up from their lethargy after the uncharacteristically dry winter because we saw them running around and hiding in their underground city when they noticed our presence.

At base camp — our refuge — we were greeted by more breathtaking vistas. A big granite and slate stone wall facing north by the cabin made us feel elfin. Although this open shelter served well as storage for our cycling and camping gear — keeping our fingers crossed for not having any issues as it remained open — we were eager to explore farther on skis. Originally aiming for Tendeñera Peak, we redirected to explore nearby slopes in order to avoid thin snow and long approach routes. We decided to go farther west and wear our skis directly from the hut the next day.

HellBikes
The author remembered screaming, “Yiha! Yuuuuh!” skiing down the first slope.
Diego Borchers

The first sunset and blue hour were as epic as the views, but our sleep that night was poor. Although we had winter sleeping gear, the hut retained the winter’s chill. It was nothing that the energy of first sun rays and a great breakfast couldn’t solve, and soon we were sliding skis over snow. A narrow snow ribbon expanded into a field of white as our progress continued.

Situated at 9,045 feet on the western fringes of Sierra Tendeñera, Peña Sabocos typified the robust relief of the western Pyrenees with tall limestone peaks on its northern side. The more we climbed, the more expansive our perception of the mountain and valley became. Although we also felt quite strong during the ascent, we still took a few breaks on the way. The flattest part of the ski tour came to an end with big-gradient slopes ahead. Choosing to be closer to the wall of the mountain not only forced us to trade our skis for crampons but also put us in shadow. We skirted these slopes by making diagonal walks until the time we reached the foot of the mountain, bathed once again in sunlight. The expansive views we had in front of us afforded a glimpse of the first two other people we would see on our adventure. They were on the ridge before the top, between the descent couloir and the final big climb. A quick snack before heading up gave us enough energy to conquer the first part of our Sabocos attempt.

HellBikes
Never has a piece of snow been so enjoyed as the one in front of the shelter.
Ana Zamorano

Skis mounted once again, we reached the place where we would see these two guys later. An enormous granite wall lined up from the top to the following ridge, naturally drawing a half circle. As the sun moved, the great wall’s shadow gained ground again. Time to put on our jackets, enjoy the freezing breeze as well as some olives, a good sandwich, and some pieces of chocolate for dessert. We could not ask for more: great food with great views and a long slope ahead up to 8,980 feet. We could see the Tena Valley unfolding behind us, and the Sabocos and Asnos lakes twinkled below. The iconic Midi d’Ossau peak, Sierra de la Collarada, and the incredible panorama of Vignemale, Ordesa, and Monte Perdido were also within view. These sights made the last climb smoother.

Removing the skins from our skis and putting our jackets back on took us longer than the first descent. The preparation to ski took longer than the ski itself, and with the snow softened by the sun, we were able to enjoy our first downhill with cheers.

HellBikes
The views became increasingly spectacular, and plans for future climbs grew even grander.
Ana Zamorano

We knew that all types of snow would be waiting for us on the way down. We are used to it in the Pyrenees as we generally don’t get the best snow. We encountered ice and hard snow, requiring attentiveness on steep and narrow sections, especially for me. “There is no such thing as bad snow, only bad skiers” is an adage among skiers, and we were happy to pass the test.

HellBikes
If this place was already incredible, the blue hour made it even more special.
Ana Zamorano

The sun felt less strong than in the morning. We continued skiing until we reached our base camp where all our gear was waiting for us. We could see and feel how much snow had already melted within the last 10 or so hours. The river gave us clean water, the sun an amazing sunset. We finished the evening with some food, happy moods, tired bodies, and a peaceful sleep.

We decided to take a less intense third day as the gravel and skiing experience fully filled our souls during the first two. Our bodies felt exhausted and needed rest, so we decided to enjoy a couple of the snow blocks that were still near the refuge to do some short, fun descents. We walked up the grass and skied down in an exhilarating cycle. Tiny patches of snow had never been so fun!

HellBikes
After a freezing night, they sought some solar warmth while cooking porridge for breakfast.
Diego Borchers

Our final day of this great adventure took us all the way down to the valley floor on two wheels. We had 3,600 feet to descend back to the dam we started from. The heavy backpacks containing most of our ski gear limited our ability to enjoy the views while going downhill — if you’ve never cycled with a loaded pack, they seriously limit your ability to look upward while in the saddle — and the bumpy mountain road demanded most of our attention. A crash with all the extra gear strapped to us and our bikes would have been interesting. For example, we strapped our boots to our forks and skis to our bike frames. That’s why we stopped many times to take breaks and enjoy the scenery, giving our stiff arms a rest from hitting the brakes. The first slopes were the most challenging, as we had to adapt to the weight pushing us downhill. The mud in the first few miles didn’t help much, as the snow was melting quickly, and a few creeks made the path a bit more challenging. The empty valley surprised us in ways we loved. A crystal-clear river awaited us for another refreshing dip, and we bade farewell to the marmots as they watched us go.

HellBikes
The bikes were left resting in the shelter while they went skiing during the day.
Ana Zamorano

A last-minute decision concluded our adventure ahead of schedule. Faced with two excellent options, we chose to close the ski season early and exchange more action for some good old-fashioned sentimentality — we shared a skiing day with a young family member who is improving his skills and will likely be a better skier than us in the very near future.

HellBikes
With the objective accomplished, they marched downhill, leaving an incredible experience behind them.
Ana Zamorano

The Pyrenees have become our favorite playground, not only for winter but also for cycling in spring or autumn. This range is one of the most underestimated mountain ranges in Europe, not so much because of its natural features and rugged beauty but because Spain has long been promoted as the “Sun Country” of Europe, with pictures of beaches, great gastronomy, bars, and warm weather. Some parts of Spain indeed provide this weather all year round, but other parts like the Pyrenees offer very different landscapes, with glaciers, mountains, and raw nature. We chose the Tena Valley for the endless possibilities to blend bikepacking with ski touring that it offers. Many gravel roads lead to the snow level and are perfect for ditching bikes for skis. This is a reminder that a great adventure doesn’t need many days but rather some creativity and the right playground to ski and cycle on.

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Kyrgyzstan, the Wild Land https://www.adventurecycling.org/blog/kyrgyzstan-the-wild-land/ https://www.adventurecycling.org/blog/kyrgyzstan-the-wild-land/#respond Wed, 18 Oct 2023 18:10:33 +0000 https://www.adventurecycling.org/kyrgyzstan-the-wild-land/ This article first appeared in the July/August 2023 issue of Adventure Cyclist magazine. The first time I heard about this country, I had to search for it on the map. […]

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Adventure Cyclist magazine.

The first time I heard about this country, I had to search for it on the map. I had no clue where it was, and I definitely had no clue of the Kyrgyz culture, their traditions, or its mountains.

Back in 2017, I crossed the border from Bolivia to Chile and started meeting more bikepackers compared to the other countries I had cycled through in South America. I was happy to swap adventure stories as well as exchange ideas for new places to explore and find new tools and gear that makes a day on the bike a little easier. In southern Peru while staying in a casa ciclista, which means a “house for cyclists” and offers a completely free stay, I met a lad from France who was drawing a line on wheels across the globe. He started in Australia, crossed Asia to Europe, and arrived in Brazil on a sailboat. Many stories were shared over the dining table during my stay. I was quiet and took in the details about his ride through Kyrgyzstan and Central Asia. Listening to his adventures, I realized those countries have a lot of similarities with Mongolia, a country I had dreamed of visiting since I was young. As an animal lover, I remember looking at the massive Mongolian plateau on a map I had in my bedroom. Countless times I imagined myself galloping on a horse visiting the nomads of the Altai Range. Kyrgyzstan was presented to me as a wild country with amazing mountains and a variety of different landscapes where nomads live during their short summers. I soaked up his tales while eating a big bowl of pasta with a basic tomato sauce, my usual diet for that year. So many ideas rushed to my mind during those conversations, and inevitably, Central Asia and especially Kyrgyzstan were added to my list of countries to visit soon. As I continued crossing the Andes, I knew that Asia would be my next long bikepacking route. I considered the option of traveling for a year to cross the continent and explore the mountains and the ancient roads of Central Asia. Unfortunately, this idea never came to fruition because of the world’s pandemic lockdown. At that time, I was enjoying traveling alone across Latin America (Patagonia to Mexico) and also Asia (Iran, Armenia, and Georgia), and getting to know myself in a deeper way. The people of each country welcomed me and treated me like a member of their family.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
A storm was coming when packing up our campsite. A curious shepherd came to ask us if there was a problem. “Niet problem!” we said.
Ana Zamorano
When the world opened up and allowed for travel once again, my life was a bit different. I had a job, which meant I wouldn’t have as much free time as before, and I was not single anymore. From the beginning of my relationship, Diego knew that bikepacking through Kyrgyzstan was my next goal. The winter before the trip, I gifted him some bikepacking coffee table books with great storytelling and awesome photography. I thought it would be the best way to introduce him to an unknown country and hoped it would spark his curiosity. My plan worked — Diego became engrossed with learning more about Kyrgyzstan and decided he wanted to join the adventure. We acted quickly and bought tickets for July 2022, and Diego invested in a bikepacking rig for the trip. As it was his first time riding outside Spain, he chose to stay three weeks while I planned to stay for almost two months. Known among adventurers is that it’s not the time you spend traveling on a bike but rather the density of it that has an effect on you. I recall Diego telling me how exhausted he felt in just one day due to the different encounters with the locals and the riding itself in the ever-changing weather. A day traveling on a bike feels like a week of a normal life, and a month can really be like a year. So many experiences and feelings happen in 24 hours when you’re by yourself in a remote land and outside of your comfort zone. The day we landed in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, we were equally excited and tired from the long flights. Our bikes, bags, and equipment arrived safely and were ready to mount. We managed to get our luggage sorted out quickly, got settled into our accommodations, and went to explore the nearby area. The Osh Bazaar, the main market of the city, was about five minutes from our doorstep. The main goal was to buy groceries for the following eight days. Kegety Pass, the first and highest pass of the route, was due on the third day and we had to get ready physically and mentally. We always carry food for two extra days as you never know what can happen in a remote area where you cannot find more than a few shepherds, wild animals, and herds. The bazaar was surprisingly quiet, and the prices were fixed. This was a surprise as I imagined the city to be like Tehran or Istanbul, just as chaotic as any capital. This is exactly why I travel, to learn and experience firsthand other ways of life.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
The lush and green landscape with a wide gravel path after Kegety Pass was more than stunning.
Ana Zamorano
Our first morning was spent devouring three bags of nuts, a heap of noodles with vegetables, and a huge watermelon in less than 20 minutes. It seemed incredible to be in 35°C (95°F) heat under the strong sun and see white glaciers in the distance. Bishkek is situated in the Chuy Valley at the foot of the Tian Shan Mountains and the snowy peaks of the Kyrgyz Ala-Too Range. These mountains became the backdrop to a walk we shared with Nico, an Italian friend I connected with when we both were cycling through Europe a few years earlier. A typical Kyrgyz tombola helped us to disconnect from our tiredness and share in laughter with a friend. After a big breakfast the following morning, we were eager to leave the city and start cycling toward Kegety Pass. Diego had read a lot of blogs about this pass at 3,780 meters (12,400 feet). The truth is, he had memorized the whole way and the Kyrgyzstan map in case we got lost and had no battery in our devices. After three long days of climbing this pass on our heavy bikes, we finally reached the top. During the first day, we had encounters with people from the capital spending time in nature. As we gained more ground in the second stage, we were closer to the glaciers and found ourselves alone in the empty green valley. It was hard to continually ride at altitude, and the landscape was progressively more beautiful and we stopped frequently to take photos. Herds of wild horses, long waterfalls, glaciers in the background, and endless green slopes were all we saw during the second day. While wild camping, we joked about how lucky we were with the weather. I guess we had tempted fate because we woke up greeted by dense fog and light rain, which followed us to the top of the pass. We crossed paths with two shepherds on horseback; trying to communicate with each other was interesting as we did not share a common language. This exchange was the opposite of the next one, when we met a French bikepacker cycling down the Kegety who told us there were more than 200 horses blocking the narrow path on top. Snow covered the ground as we reached the herd. Finally, I was able to live out one of my childhood dreams, challenging my inner shepherdess to move the herd to create a path for us. The two shepherds we met a few hours earlier appeared in search of the herd and led them to the other side of the valley. This moment felt dreamlike and straight out of a movie: misty fog, two shepherds wearing large capes on horseback while guiding the herd, and the two of us trailing at the back, pushing our bikes.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
This big family was celebrating a funeral in a yurt. Tons of food, a guitar, and some bottles of vodka were the main ingredients.
Ana Zamorano
Knowing the southern face of the pass would be much harder than the north, we searched for the easiest singletrack down toward the next valley. We had to push our bikes down for some parts and got lost in others. Despite this, we kept our motivation high as Diego managed his first big pass really well. After the thousand-meter descent, we had the pleasure of exploring the new valley. A crystal-clear river, stunning green slopes, horses, cows and sheep grazing peacefully, and a handful of yurts scattered across the landscape. Some Kyrgyz people continue to live a nomadic lifestyle, with many people from the lower land villages still living nomadically during the summer season. The summer is short in Kyrgyzstan, and snow can start covering the higher lands from September. Depending on the snowfall in winter, they can set up their camps as early as mid-spring. Members of these nomadic families who settled in the valley waved at us as we cycled by and invited us into their yurt, which are traditional homes built with removable wooden frames and felt covers. Each family member has a specific role and task: the women are responsible for collecting cattle droppings and drying them in the sun to serve as fuel for the long winter ahead, and the men are responsible for taking the cattle to higher land for the more fertile pastures. This allows the milk of the mares, sheep, and cows to transform into two types of butter. One type has a liquid consistency and the other solid, but both are equally delicious in our opinion. Spending time in yurts is a great way to get to know the nomadic culture and an opportunity to support the community by buying fresh butter, homemade bread, and kumis, the fermented mare’s milk that plays a huge part in the Kyrgyz diet. With the sun shining, we were able to take a refreshing dip in one of the freezing cold rivers Kyrgyzstan has to offer. Our favorite river was on Karakol Pass and was bluish-gray in color from the glacial sediments, which we didn’t know was on our route. It was a great lesson for Diego, who had extensively researched the route, that it’s always the places you didn’t know about that create the best moments. This pass was stunning and we were unsure why nobody had mentioned it to us beforehand. Big slopes took us to the west and closer to a new part of the Tian Shan Range. Cycling on the black, rocky terrain made a magnificent contrast to the snowcapped mountains and glaciers in the background. Karakol Pass gave us not only a stunning view but a great learning experience. The weather at altitude can be very unpredictable. We were awakened by a shepherd who curiously approached our campsite. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Problem?” he pointed at us while looking at our tent. We replied with a phrase we used frequently during our trip: “Niet problem!” Most of the conversations we had with locals were based on this and a few other Russian words we learned on the way. I added some other phrases to the few I still remembered from my time cycling through the Southern Caucasus: bike, tent, camping, food, supermarket … just the easiest and most useful words when you do not share a common language. A storm was coming toward us, and we had to try to escape it. Luckily, we packed our belongings quickly and started cycling under the gray sky. One hour later and we were soaked — the animal shelter we found did not protect us from the pouring rain. We had no other choice but to knock at the door of a yurt where we were welcomed in with hot coffee and biscuits. My phone’s translator app helped us explain what we were doing in the middle of those mountains. It makes me wonder about the differences between us. These families settle there to survive, and we were on vacation. As I shared our route, the questions asked of us were different compared to my previous solo trips and related to our age, where our children were, and the idea of having a family in the near future. It’s always funny explaining the outlook of westerners in these matters. The yurt was filled with laughter and warmth. Having dried, Diego and I continued discovering new passes and another great valley. After riding along lush, green fields, we came across the village of Suusamyr, allowing us the chance to stop for a couple of days. We needed to recover our energy levels, refuel, and contact our family and friends. That was the point when we realized that life in the villages was similar to the life of the nomads. During the winter, both at high altitude and in the lower towns, they all have the same needs for getting fuel to burn or picking the vegetables of the season such as carrots or cucumbers to survive the rest of the year.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
This teen is quite famous among bikepackers, as his family lives in a yurt near a famous pass. We were happy to meet him and his siblings. The photographer: One of his sisters.
Ana Zamorano
From Suusamyr on, the landscape changed from the high mountains and white glaciers to reddish-brown valleys. It took us mentally back to our visit to Utah or northern Argentina. Big canyons along a blue river accompanied us, as well as three Spanish cyclists we met on the way. The views from above were nothing but unique. Everywhere we went, we saw the different layers of the landscape, from the rock formations of the valley to the fresh snow on the high mountains. We could reach Song-Kol, the second largest alpine lake in the country, within two days. It felt like a sea despite Kyrgyzstan being landlocked and far from the ocean. Food was in abundance during the time we spent with a family, who treated us to generous servings of local cuisine. Laghman (noodles with meat) and paloo (rice with beef) are the most typical dishes. With the weather constantly changing, we were thankful to have a roof over us as we watched snow fall. As soon as we left this corner of the country, we were able to enjoy another type of landscape. It was time to descend through a completely different scenery of tree-lined slopes that appeared out of the blue. We removed layers as we descended toward a valley in the Naryn region, the highest part of the country. The last 40 kilometers before we reached the city proved to be the most difficult stretch for me and was the point where we split paths with the other bikepackers. The sun was growing stronger, which made pedaling down the broken road harder, and it probably didn’t help that I fell sick for the first time in the country. Staying in the city of Naryn helped me to make a speedy recovery while Diego prepared to fly home as his time in the country had come to an end.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
This man from a yurt wanted Diego to wear his kalpak, the Kyrgyz traditional hat.
Ana Zamorano
I prepared to head out alone once again and cycle the passes of the Tian Shan until the city of Karakol. However, I shared the journey with two fellow bikepackers, Martuki and Johnny, who were great companions through passes like Arabel and the Burkhan Valley. This remote area gave us a new perspective of the Tian Shan Range. The green pastures that I first appreciated with Diego during July were no longer shining as the sun beat down over it. August brought a brown hue to the environment, making these pastures worse for the cattle. Encounters with the nomads of this region were more frequent as winter was just around the corner and storms were more noticeable. The “excuse” to knock on the doors of yurts we were passing was the need to dry our clothes. Being invited to join a funeral to share a celebration of life with family members and the time we spent with a solo man in his campsite were the highlights of the last few days cycling through this part of the Tian Shan. Approaching the border with China, we were given the most incredible gift of magnificent glaciers and stunning landscapes.
bikepacking kyrgyzstan
A nomad kid plays with some of the fishing tools they have in her family’s yurt.
Ana Zamorano
The city of Karakol, located in the eastern part of Kyrgyzstan, is based at the crossroads of Central Asia and is a fascinating playground for nature lovers and a great place to visit the second largest saline lake in the world: Issyk-Kul. Remembering that this city was a stop on the Silk Road and a popular area during the Soviet Union because of health resorts and hot mineral springs, it was the perfect place for my last stage of the Tian Shan traverse. Kyrgyzstan is known as the “little Switzerland of Central Asia,” not only because of its climate but also for its landscape. Undoubtedly, this is a country made for bikepacking. It offers you tons of adventures, awesome places for wild camping, beautiful traditions, and multiple paths to get lost through its untouched nature. There is a proverb from the nomads that says “a horse is a man’s wings.” So, I took the liberty of adopting this Kyrgyz saying and adapting it to us as bikepackers: “a bike is a cyclist’s wings” and allows you to experience places like these.

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