Ancient Pathways

It’s been a while since our wheels left Mongolia, and already thousands of kilometres lie between there and here. Two weeks in Kyrgyzstan — and it feels both familiar and entirely new. The rhythm of the road remains the same, but here it carries a stronger Central Asian pulse — more altitude, more flavour, and a sense that every track follows an ancient path once travelled by caravans and traders.

To reach this point, we crossed the desert in western China by bus, bypassed the southeast of Kazakhstan, and landed in Almaty. The city treated us well: good food, kind people, and a refreshing dose of urban energy before the mountains called us back. From there, the road wound toward Charyn Canyon and on to the border, where Kyrgyzstan’s remoteness unfolded — dusty roads, endless horizons, warm encounters, and, finally, a long-awaited swim in the deep blue of Issyk-Kul Lake were we spent the night with two like minded bikepackers form Swizerland.

Then came Tosor Pass, rising nearly 4,000 meters. Two-thirds of the way up, a wild halo thunderstorm rolled in, forcing us to retreat to camp. The night was restless, filled with the sound of rain and thunder cracking through thin mountain air. But by morning, the clouds lifted, and we pushed through the last 600 meters to the top. There, surrounded by silence and light, we felt the quiet hum of centuries — the mountains carrying stories older than memory itself.

Days in Kyrgyzstan pass like pages in a weathered book — full of climbs and descents, laughter and fatigue, stories shared over simple meals, and moments of stillness that leave no room for words. Every encounter feels genuine. People wave, smile, and make you feel as though you’ve always belonged here. Gliding through these high valleys is like being both a stranger and a member of the family at the same time.

Now our wheels are pointed south, toward Tajikistan and the legendary Pamir Highway. There’s a certain wistfulness in leaving — a gentle tug that reminds us how deeply these landscapes have rooted themselves within us. But the road continues, as it always does, whispering promises of new mountains, new faces, and more stories waiting to be found.