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Special Altyn Arashan

The problem when they ask me "Stray, how do you plan the itineraries?" is that I can't answer "In a studied and fortuitous way." Even if both things are true.

This is how I find myself traveling through a trekker's paradise... By car... Probably a Soviet model. Judge for yourself from the photos.

In short, my Kyrgyz itinerary includes a day at Altyn Arashan from Karakol, the result of several cuts and sews in the planning and consultation with various local interlocutors. In other words, I understood almost nothing about it.

The Altyn Arashan is a not too difficult route that can be done in about five hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. This is what it takes to reach the hot springs, located at over 2500 meters above sea level. However, I only discovered this by going there. Before leaving, I only knew that it was a mountain place, that it is usually cold, that there are hot springs and that cell phones have no signal. And that I would go up in a “special vehicle”.

Hence, a thousand worries and some misunderstandings with my local contact, convinced that I would stay one night in one of the guesthouses. “I need time to book. They only have a satellite phone there.” “Yes, but we don't have to stay overnight. We will return to Karakol.” "Are you sure? However, it is very cold there in the evening, so bring warm clothes.” “Ok, but we won't stay there till the evening.”

Then I understood why it was so strange. I think I'm one of the few who went up there to just go to the hot spring and take some photos of the valley. Pure lamer tourist. While I saw the others sweating, more or less, to climb up there and then enjoy the landscape for the whole day.

However, let's start talking about sweating: this warning about the cold put me on alert before departure and affected the preparation of my luggage. At the end of August my contact writes to me “Be careful, it snowed in Karakol. It's abnormal, but it still snowed.” The end of August! Ok, then I checked the webcams: it was little more than a sprinkle, but it was snow at the end of August, anyway! What will I find in October? Blizzards? Roads blocked? Will I be able to get to Karakol at least, having to then give up my unknown and unattainable Altyn Arashan?

In short, I prepared myself for Siberia, I found a mid-autumn Rome. Short-sleeved people in the midday sun. Not even an inch of snow, except on the distant peaks, which even the gaze struggles to reach. Climate change? Global warming? I don't know, definitely abnormal heat and a great stroke of luck, with conscientious reflection, seasoned with sapid eco-anxiety that... “Let's leave our jackets in the car! It's wonderful here!”

If there is a heat deity, I think it loves me quite well.

Let's continue with the fitness. The route, done like a trekker with the legs of others, did not seem too complicated to me. And I guess maybe my wife and I could have done it. I'll never know and I don't intend to find out. But doing it there and back on the same day would have just been a poorly rewarded physical effort. And then, the shoes. The trekking shoes that I didn't have. Maybe mine would have been fine, but who knows...

The lack of them had already limited me at the Kok Moinok Canyon a couple of days earlier. And a dear friend of mine, much more adventurous than me, told me: “The fact that you didn't have shoes shows what kind of beginner trips you do.” Now, replace the word “beginner” with any homophobic term you can think of. And, if you want, get disgusted. But we grew up in the Roman province in the 80s and 90s: age and place recall a certain jargon for some.

In the morning at the hotel, at breakfast, I meet a Spanish couple dressed in outdoor sportswear. I have a chat, but without discovering that we have the same destination for that day. I will then see them get on, sitting "not" comfortably on my Soviet vehicle. And now it's about the vehicle that I want to talk!

I know, I know, I've stated several times (including here) that I'm a destination type, rather than a journey type. But this time the second one was just as fun as the first. The Mario from the normal car takes us to the start of the walk. I always call the different drivers Mario, because that was the name of the first one who took us around for a few days. There we meet the driver of the famous "special vehicle", a gentleman who is approaching his sixties. This second Mario will become my hero of the day, my Nuvolari with oriental features.

Special Mario invites us to get on his off-road vehicle, which perhaps has always seen the same road, but must have seen many different years. He seats us in the back, but it's the front that catches my attention. Levers and controls never seen before, steering wheel very similar to that of trucks, indicators and warning lights for a bit of everything, even for our inner excitement. Of course, Special Mario and Normal Mario don't speak English, other than very few words. A constant in my Kyrgyz journey. With a reinforced complication by the absence of an Internet signal for translations.

Off we go, the road seems rather gentle. Special Mario is focused, but relaxed. Not even ten minutes and we meet the Spaniards, who have just started to climb. It makes me want to invite them on the off-road vehicle. They probably would have refused but, even when we knock on the windows, they don't notice us. I will see them again at our destination, right at the beginning of our descent. Yes, because even by car, they told me, it takes three hours to get up and half an hour less to get down. Special Mario, I know, for you this is an insult!

Our driver passes the boys and continues down the road. The problem is that, after a while, the road doesn't exist. From a dirt road, it becomes stony or even an interpretable one. Special Mario doesn't bat an eyelid, he's even capable of inventing the path. Our vehicle starts dancing, but there are no flight attendants to warn us about the turbulence. We jump, like on the tagada of that famous Roman province of my childhood.

About twenty minutes later, we reach a woman walking alone. We don't even have to ask this one, she's the one who asks us for a ride. Which we willingly grant. A practical Korean lady, also with almost non-existent English. But no one speaks it here anyway...

Special Mario continues, on earth, water and stones. He is possessed at the wheel, he is a continuous swerve, his muscles sing together with the engine, he seems to draw curves that yearn for that very blue sky. Thanks, also to the deity of good weather. And the Korean woman, sitting in front of her, bangs her head on the roof. So, Special Mario shows her a handle to hold on to. It's the turbulence, baby.

But, plot twist! The very special Soviet vehicle stops! We are on foot! And right at the halfway point. I can already imagine having to travel several kilometers forward or backward. But Special Mario doesn't get bothered: “Photo.” he tells us. That is, as long as you tourists take a photo of yourself, I'll start the car again. And so it happens. We move again.

And it's tagada again, in green and blue, without music, except that of the shock absorbers.

The route becomes steeper, perhaps the only difficult stretch even on foot. The off-road vehicle climbs, struggles, bends, makes us emotional and a little scared, but continues its march. Then it stops again, but we trust Special Mario. The Korean woman continues on foot, since there wasn't much left. We wait for our driver in an ideal spot for photos. It takes him a few more minutes, but he starts the vehicle again. And afterward it's much easier to take us to the hot springs.

I could also end it here, talking about the thermal bath, throwing in some photos. We had a great time, for a few hours. But the point is that this is not the end of the story. What had they told me? Three hours to go up? Special Mario took us up in just over two hours, breakdowns included. I want to see him come down.

And he'll show us again. Once I get to the valley, I notice that there are other vehicles. But they are not like ours. They are brand new, very refined, very electronic and shout “I am the leader of the car-pack!” And they are precisely the same ones who will try to get down before us, but arriving much later.

Where could our driver have ever passed them, on paths that don't even exist? Down in just over an hour and a half. Special Mario doesn't need roads, he can imagine them, he spreads carpets in the sky.