Skiing in Kyrgyzstan

Kyrgyzstan is 96% mountain and 4% dill fields, so it’s not at all surprising that last weekend I found myself on top of the world on the Tien-Shan mountain range.  My work colleague and traveling companion, Sara, was the motivating force behind the trip to higher altitudes and another work colleague, Ulan, helped arrange transportation and lodging.  So, after finishing the work week, Sara and I loaded into an uncertain looking Audi for a two-hour drive to Karakol for a weekend of skiing. 

Our driver, Bolot, had us humming down the road nicely when another car passed us blasting its horn, its passengers pointing at our car.  After a brief moment of confusion, we realized there might be something wrong with the car, so Bolot pulled to the side of the road.  Sure enough, the back right tire was going flat.  Bolot jumped to action, grabbing a foot pump from the trunk to give the tire some life.  Unfortunately, the tire continued to lose air, so we drove a short ways to the next town and found a spot for Bolot to put on the spare.  We were back on the road quickly—perhaps too quickly, due to lug nuts that loosened and tightened without great effort.

By 11:30am we were at the Green Yard Guest House in Karakol—a very clean and welcoming guest house.  After some tea and pastries, we climbed into a hired Honda Odyssey for a 30 minute drive to the ski resort.  But our taxi troubles were not over yet.  It’s no oversight on Honda’s part not to promote their Odyssey minivan as an all-terrain mountain climbing vehicle.  We crept cautiously up the side of the mountain on snow covered roads and were soon stuck in an icy rut.  After some effort, we advanced 20 feet only to lose traction again.  No matter how much he spun the tires, our driver couldn’t continue forward, so instead he put the car in reverse to find traction and gain momentum to overcome the slippery spots.  We reversed 20 feet…without luck…so we reversed another 20 feet…without luck…and finally we retreated several hundred yards down the mountain in reverse before making another run at the slippery slopes.  After 30 minutes of unproductive slip-slide-and-away—with several vehicles passing us and easily zipping up the hill—we somehow found just enough traction to creep up the hill without sliding off the side of the road.

Once at the ski hill, we had to overcome language barriers to figure out how to rent skis and buy lift tickets.  Thanks to patience and the power of pantomime, we were soon fitted with equipment, armed with lift tickets, and on our way to the ski lift.

...Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I’ve only been skiing a handful of times and before this adventure to Kyrgyzstan, I've never skied outside the great state of Wisconsin, which any amateur geography scholar knows does not boast the tallest of mountains.  In short, my skiing experience consists of navigating glorified bunny hills, most recently nearly 15 years ago.

Thanks to a cocktail of hubris and naivety, I had decided that my fitness and athleticism would easily overcome lack of experience and more than a decade since I was last on skis.  But my confidence was shaken and stirred on that first ride up the mountain.  It didn’t help that the ski lift lifted us 50 feet above the surface of the hill—my skis dangling freely over tall pine trees and my mind racing with images of faulty Kyrgyz equipment dropping us out of the air to crash unceremoniously onto the mountain.  But the real problem was seeing the ski slope that would serve as my path back to the bottom of the hill.  In a word, it was steep.  (In another word, it was intimidating.) 

High above the slopes of the Tien-Shan Mountains

The fantastical images of plummeting from the ski lift were replaced with the very real images of me trying to manage such a steep slope without sliding out of control and breaking my leg or smashing my face into a tree. 

One of the stunning views--with the slope in the foreground and the mountain peaks in the background.

As the ski lift took us higher and higher up the mountain side, my confidence was lifted slightly by seeing other skiers swooshing casually down the slopes.  Another confidence boost came when the hill flattened out and we saw that part way down the hill there was an opportunity to take the ski lift back to the top of the hill.  Sara and I decided to use the flatter top portion of the hill—from the upper most drop off point to the mid-level ski lift pick-up point—to practice before continuing onto the steep and intimidating portion of the mountain.

On top of the world.

After avoiding injury during a very cautious first run and several more runs that helped build confidence, it was time to face the rest of the mountain.  It was time whether we liked it or not.  Because of an early sunset, the ski lifts stopped running at 3:45, so we were forced to face the steep slopes on the rest of the hill.  I took no chances, cutting across the side of the steep slope with my skis perpendicular to the slope.  Slowly, slowly I crisscrossed the mountain, digging my front ski into the side of the hill to defy the strong gravitational pull.

Sara prepares to tackle the mountain.

Finally near the end of the run, I was able to point my skis forward, release towards the bottom of the hill, and enjoy the ride—happy and relieved to have survived the mountain at Karakol.  My toes were frozen but my spirits were high after conquering Tien-Shan.

Slow and steady wins the race...