Naryn, entrance door to Tash Rabat • Motoviajeros / Travel magazine and motorcycle routes

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Routes and tripsSeptember 18, 2021Quique Arenas 0

Central Asia10 Motorcycling56 Biker Women3 Silk Road8Once again the plans did not turn out the way I did they wanted, but they followed the course they wanted. Something that, in many...Once again the plans did not turn out the way I wanted, but followed the course they wanted. Something that, on many occasions, I loved and on others, horrified me. Continuing south, my next stop would be Naryn, where the river that bears its name, the largest in Kyrgyzstan, has carved a gorge in the mountains sheltering the town, one of the poorest in the country. The 120 kilometers on the A365 that separate Kochkor from Naryn turned into hell and not because of the bad condition of the road —which had perfect asphalt that I would have enjoyed much more with my “Trailer” than with Desna—, but because of the circumstances that they surrounded the trip. Just 25 kilometers from the start of the race, the bike simply stopped. I tried to start it several times, but it didn't seem to want to. So I wrote a message to Marat to explain what happened. Let's get to work, I followed his instructions while, from the small bag that I carried as a front rack, I extracted a jumble of ferruginous tools. He told me to send him photographs of the motorcycle and thanks to them he was locating where each thing was located. At times like this it would be great to have a basic notion of mechanics. But there was no point in complaining. This was not the time for it. I carefully removed the small metal ring that held the rubber through which the gasoline passes to check that it was indeed doing so and thus begin to rule out possible faults. On their knees, on that ground full of dry dung, it didn't take long for three young boys to stop their car. I could tell that if I don't know anything about mechanics, they seemed to know even less. They looked at the motorcycle from one side to the other, but in reality they did nothing and they didn't speak any English either, so with a handshake I gave them the sign "thank you for stopping and bye-bye, very good". And I continued there following the instructions of that person on the other end of the phone who, after that, told me to turn the screw to be able to raise the idle speed. After several failed attempts, Desna seems to have stopped stalling. I got on it and we continued the route as we could, jerkily and slowly. Well, actually the last 30 kilometers were the ones I gave the most of all because the desire to get there was so great…

Crossing the Dolon Pass at 3,030 meters of altitude was the strangest in that it barely gave me the feeling of climbing a large pass, perhaps because the starting point was already located at a fairly high elevation. At the top, sleet and construction trucks that muddy the two lanes of the road made circulation difficult and if we add to that the instability of that motorcycle and the Chinese origin of the tires it was wearing, it was to put your hands on your head . My arms and neck tensed in unison and in the best way I could I started the dangerous descent in which the asphalt shone like a skating rink. The only thought that ran through my head was that this would happen as soon as possible and, as I wished it was to attract it, shortly after finishing the descent, the clouds gave way for a few moments to a small window of blue sky that I took advantage of to continue the route. hardly stopping to photograph the extraordinary landscapes I was going through. Surprisingly, I see two motorcycles in the distance, the first today, and there are also two BMW R1200 GS Adventures. I give them the V salute and they return it to me without taking their eyes off me. On the highway, the traffic is barely nil, which is why my passage through the towns is even more striking. In Kazan-Kuygan —in the rain again— it is the children who raise their little hands to me in greeting. I smiled at them, although I guess they didn't even notice with their helmet on. The descent to Naryn is surprising and, once in the town, the life of its people is distributed on both sides of the main street, Lenin Street.

The confused search for a place to sleep led me to use Maps.Me, this time to find one. Which was quite confusing since, from what I was seeing, I should already be in front of him, but those buildings seemed more like abandoned and for my sake, they had better be, and this wasn't where I was spending the night. . So, after asking several people without any positive result, I decide to end up calling "Nomads Travel", where I would sleep for 7 euros with breakfast included. A very sweet-toned voice answered me and, in English, told me to wait for her at the place where I was and that she would come to look for me, since the address that appeared on Google was not the correct one. He could already have continued searching that there would have been no way to find him. In fact, it didn't take long for Gulzat to appear there, a young girl, short and dark complexion. Her face matched the sweetness of her voice. And luckily we connected instantly. Gone was the coldness that that family in Kochkor had transmitted to me and the door was open to the possibility of a new connection with a person who, apparently, offered humility and simplicity. Admired by my arrival on a motorcycle, Gulzat defined me as a "small but strong" woman, something to which certain comments have me more than accustomed. He showed me my room, where there were three beds, none occupied, and when I had the chance to choose, I did it with the one closest to the plug so I could charge cameras and phones. He briefly introduced me to some of the things that I could see in the city, among which stood out, of course, the central mosque of Naryn, which I had previously taken a look at on the internet and, more recently, upon my arrival. Taking advantage of the fact that it was around 4:00 p.m., I went out to capture corners, moments, the life of its inhabitants, and I managed to do it while photographing a grandfather walking his grandson, the children leaving school, a man waiting for the bus... It all seemed so special to me. I wanted to enjoy this unique experience that I was living and I wanted to do it from the point of view of its people, who, until now, had given me their kindness.

Naryn will be for me something more than the "gateway to Tash Rabat", it became one of the places that caused the most impact on my trip through one of the most beautiful countries in Central Asia: Kyrgyzstan.Tash Rabat, caravanserai of the Silk Road A little over a hundred kilometers from Naryn and a little less than two hours away, this resting place for the merchants of the Silk Road is located in the middle of nowhere, far from any trace of human bustle in which time does not can be measured, but rather forgotten.

The A365 at the exit of the town draws a vertiginous ascent that is usually accompanied by an inevitably dirty asphalt due to the feces of the innumerable cattle, which frequently crosses the road, to culminate at the top with the vision of an endless straight line whose sides rise imposing mountains as protective guardians. The landscape is heartbreakingly beautiful. The horses become owners of the meadows and under a timid morning sun they graze freely without caring about the surroundings. The route becomes an intense chromatic combination in which yellows and ochres are of great importance and in which I was lucky not to find snow, something very frequent at this time. About fifteen kilometers of track in fairly good condition —and for let me say it, it has to be since I don't like it at all— they will take us to this dream place of the s. XV, in which the cut silhouette of the "bare" mountains draws a fairly well-defined outline in the sky. I was lucky that it was September, one of what I consider to be the best months to travel, and that that place that I was able to visit calmly and without stress, a month ago would have been crowded with people. As soon as I arrived, two ladies offered me to go in and see the inside of the place, but not before making it clear to me that I should pay them 100 som (1.20 euros), a really derisory amount. If it was cold outside, it was even colder inside. On the floor of one of the rooms my imagination manages to give a heart shape to one of the stones that were there. I don't know if I had it or not, but for me, that silhouette was placed there as a "look at me." And so I did. Several dogs ran inside that enclosure where there were several yurts located as bedrooms. I don't want to imagine how cold it must be at night. I looked at the sky and the clouds helped to cover the yellowish tones of the mountains, for moments, with shadows. Exploring the place, I descended to the banks of the river. Its waters flowed calm and clean. Next to them, the cows were resting spread-eagled and pretending that the matter was not going with them. They didn't want to be bothered and I honestly wanted the same too. Back in Naryn, the Nomads remained my accommodation. It was just after 3:00 p.m., the perfect time to get some rest, but not before stopping at Nomads Café, a very close bar where the food was really quite exquisite. A vegetable omelette, orange juice, and green tea filled my hungry and slightly queasy stomach. I checked on Desna, and after a day where, again, the sensations were amazing, I went to bed early without sleeping until the wee hours of the morning.

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