Silk Road Mountain Race - Part III (last installment) -- days 8-12

 Days 1 and 2

Days 3 through 7

Day 8 (Saturday) -- camp below the pass of the 20 mile climb to somewhere between Kazarman and Naryn

I last wrote about having been concerned about being blown off the side of the road down a cliff heading towards Kazarman and the Yoda children.  I woke up this night in the middle of the night with intensely throbbing knees.  It was concerning but I went back to sleep.  Interestingly, this happened more than once where I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling pain (not my knees up to that point), only to wake in the morning basically recovered.  One thing I learned during this adventure is that I genuinely require sleep for adequate recovery and there is no cheat.  The difference between the middle of the night and morning was astounding.  I'm dating myself here, but I pictured little Doozers inside my body doing repairs, only for me to crunch their efforts the next day just like Fraggles did. 

When I woke in the morning, very early in the dark, my knees were not throbbing.  They were, however, grotesquely swollen.  I guess the prior day's 20 mile climb was more than my welsh corgi knees could bear.  We rolled out in the dark, and the ride to Kazarman was not entirely downhill -- there were lots of short climbs -- but it was no longer windy.  It was quite beautiful and I'm glad to have done it when I could see better.

Before getting to Kazarman, we ran into Rosa and Santi, the Catalonian couple, who let us know they were done with the race.  We rode with them a little bit and they stopped in Kazarman while we rode off towards Naryn.

The race description stated that this was a relatively fast section.  There was, however, some truly terrible road and two 10 mile long climbs.  I had initially hoped to make a hard push from Kazarman to Naryn, which may have been overly ambitious no matter the road surface or road grade, but not only did that seem less likely with two long climbs mixed in, I felt like garbage.  I had gone to sleep with congestion and had taken a Benadryl, which did nothing for it.  Barry assured me: "you'll feel better after your morning ice cream."  Well, I had my morning ice cream and still felt like shit.   

As the day progressed I started to feel alternatively chilled and crazy hot.  I was silently wondering if maybe I was getting The Vid or had a cold or some other sickness.  I told Barry that he should ride ahead and leave me.  He basically rolled his eyes at me.  I don't remember much of the day except it sucked and we stopped to camp before dark, though not excessively early, maybe 7:30 or so.  I'm also pretty sure this was the day I felt depressed about the race itself.  I hadn't bothered with race math but knew things didn't look good for getting to the next checkpoint on time.  I also didn't want to acknowledge this fact openly, even internally, so I was just vaguely depressed in addition to feeling horrible.

Almost immediately after beginning to set up camp, a shepherd appeared to let us know we picked a poor spot to camp and he encouraged us to move to a flatter, prettier area by the water.  We confirmed his suspicion that we are idiots and stayed put.  I slept hard.

Day 9 (Sunday) - almost to Naryn

When I woke, I could immediately tell that I wasn't feeling worse.  As I gathered my things and made breakfast and coffee, I was cautiously optimistic that I was actually fine (other than my still puffy knees).  As rolled out early, I felt ok, which in turn made me feel great.  I wasn't sick.  This day was lovely.  Barry tolerated me DJing part of the second 10 mile climb with my bluetooth speaker (how did he not know Tool?), and we enjoyed one of the funnest long downhills into the Naryn River valley.  In the village at the bottom of the climb, we bravely ate some sort of pink sausage product and "crab stick" sandwiches by a river while children practiced their English with us.  

We finally addressed the the topic of our race at some point and concluded that while we could theoretically just ride until Tuesday at 4, the cutoff for CP2, and see how close we were, that would be pretty rude to the checkpoint volunteers (and medical car) if they had to wait around for us.  We would be in the middle of nowhere with no way to actually communicate with them.  It did not seem that we were going to be very close to making it.  We had to be realistic.  So, we decided to ride close to Naryn so we could camp, then ride to Naryn the next day, find cushy accommodations, basically take a rest day, then make a plan.  

This was a really nice day, though it was somewhat bittersweet.  Maybe it's only bittersweet in hindsight, as I'm pretty sure at the time the wheels were already coming off and I was ready to call it.  It's sort of like women and childbirth -- it's hard to remember how it actually felt.  

The Naryn River valley was really kind of cool - very desert like with isolated old burial sites (I think that's what they were?).  We eventually found a non-swamp campsite in a farmer's field (clover?) about 50k from Naryn.  It was getting much denser with villages so it seemed a good spot to camp before we would run out of suitably quiet spots.  We didn't bother setting alarms.

Day 10 (Monday) - to Naryn

We rode into a headwind to Naryn and, at this point, the only purpose of the ride seemed to be to get to the nice hotel there.  Though we made relatively good speed, it seemed to take forever.  Finally we arrived in Naryn, though the fancy hotel was full.  We found a guesthouse and showered, I washed my clothes, we glued ourselves to our devices, and I emailed the race director that we were finally admitting defeat.  He suggested we continue on the route, skipping a loop that would take off a couple hundred miles or so.  Emily had messaged me that she and Brad were at the site of CP3, Son Kul, and that Brad had been super sick for several days.  They were just hanging out there but hoping to tour backwards towards CP2 when Brad was able.  Barry and I decided we would go meet up with them the following day by taxi.  Barry got super gut sick that night.  The Baltika beer we celebrated with, which is like 13%, probably didn't help.  We arranged for an 11 a.m. taxi the next morning, which would give us time to shop for food for our future tour and get breakfast.  

Day 11 (Tuesday) - to Son Kul

The whole taxi situation was strange from the beginning.  Our driver seemed to be incorporating various errands into our ride and while I showed him beforehand where we were headed, he was determined to take the long way to our destination.  He then decided 22 miles before our destination that he was dropping us off right there, wherever we were, in the middle of nowhere basically.  Barry demonstrated some Scottish fight and there was a heated exchange between Barry and the driver, neither of them speaking the same language.  I normally loath conflict but this was somewhat amusing.  Must have been the accent -- also Barry seemed so chill to this point it was funny to see him get riled up.  So, we reassembled bikes, enjoyed lunch, and rode to CP3.

This ride was quite beautiful and I am grateful that our taxi driver dropped us off where he did.  Maybe he should have dropped us off earlier.  When we arrived to CP3, we were greeted warmly and told that Emily had been waiting for us all day.  CP3 was a large yurt camp and a great place to be.  Brad looked the worst he has looked in many many years, but was reportedly somewhat better.  The energy was fun there - a couple who was just touring for 5 months and rock climbing stayed there and hung out with us.  Faster riders were filtering in and out.  Barry's "little Filipino guys" (what he called his friends) rolled through, which made Barry super happy.   The Swedish woman Anna was also there -- she had been recuperating there as well.  We had a phenomenal dinner and Anna, Barry, and I decided to tag along with Brad and Emily the next day and head to Issyk Kul (a giant lake) via the course route - backwards.  Barry and I slept in a yurt with a racer who was Canadian Mel's partner, Jake, and it was generally a good sleep.

Day 12 (Wednesday) - Son Kul to Intersection Cafe

We had a nice breakfast and rolled out of Son Kul mid morning.  It was a lovely day and the ride was really cool for most of it.  We descended 33 Parrots Pass, which looked like a bitch to climb.  It was confusing to riders coming our way, so we explained we were just touring backwards.  We met a Canadian man who was motorcycling all over Central Asia and Mongolia (is that Central Asia?) and chatted with him for a bit.  After a really nice gravel ride, we hit highway.

The highway was pretty shitty to begin with, but then it started climbing.  It turned out we had a lengthy highway climb to get wherever we were going.  Brad and Emily had taken off, and Anna, Barry, and I checked in and realized we were totally miserable.  It was somewhere on this highway that I realized I was DONE riding my bike for awhile and that touring wasn't bringing me joy.  Our day of touring ended up being something like 70 miles which isn't really vacation distance.  I informed Barry that I would be taking a taxi from Intersection Cafe to Bishkek, and he shared his relief and desire to do the same.  Anna still didn't feel great and was on board with our plan to be done with the whole bike nonsense.  When we finally crested the top of the endless climb, we did have a really nice descent to Intersection Cafe.  I was still tense with displeasure though.  When we got to our destination, Emily was pretty eager to join team "bail on bikes" and while Brad really wanted to ride more, decided to make peace with us ruining his plans.  In hindsight,  I have guilt.  But in the moment, you have no idea how f'ing done I was.  Like, I reached the end of my limits right there, in that spot (wherever it was) on that highway.  I'm not sure I've ever been so sure about having reached my physical and mental limits.  I do not look back on this and question it.  

We had a really nice dinner of dumplings and a nice taxi ride back to Bishkek.  There's a whole vacation aspect of my trip that doesn't involve bikes, but I'm not going to blabber on about any of that.  

Reflections

I actually read back on some blog entries from races years ago and realized I'm still asking myself the same questions and struggling with the same competing desires.  I sign up for these ridiculously difficult and challenging races, but why?  I am not some sort of super athlete - or really even much of an athlete at all.  I'm a Welsh Corgi who likes to get outside.  (I am not an Iditarod Husky).  While I can't really answer these questions, I can tell you one thing.  Goal driven people like me like to set expectations around what "success" looks like, and it's often pretty linear and lacking in nuance.  Maybe it's ok in this life to fail sometimes (or more than sometimes), and maybe it's not even a failure if the journey was meaningful and enriching.  I had a great time.  It was an indescribably amazing experience and also fulfilling.  I made human connections that I value deeply, and experienced Kyrgyzstan in an intense way.  I managed in have some regular Type 1 fun, in addition to plenty of Type 2 fun.  My friend Jill told me when I was emailing with her about this: "life is one long existential dilemma where we spin our wheels in search of meaning, only to eventually, finally, sorta understand that life has no meaning and all there is, is joy."  Well said Jill.

Silk Road Mountain Race - Part II (Days 3 through 7)

Days 1 and 2 can be found here.   

Day 3 (Monday) -- Yurt camp below Jiptik Pass to somewhere past Gulcha 

We woke up, probably not early enough, on Day 3, and packed up to move out.  Thankfully, what lay ahead included a gentle downhill paved section.  In fact, there was a course change rumored to be the result of a Russian tourist's fatal bear encounter along the initial climb out of the Sary Mogul area.  As a result, it was mostly paved for a long stretch.  I turned on tunes and steeled myself for a day of highway.  It was a largely uneventful day and I felt relatively at ease.  This was the first day I ventured into a shop, which was exciting.  I love foreign food stores.  In Sary Tash, where Brad and Emily had just purchased their provisions, I picked up random junk food, water, and soda.  Kyrgyzstan has the.best.soda. and sweet tea.  My favorite was a pear flavored soda.   

At the shop in Sary Tash, Jenny and Matt rolled in.  They had camped the night prior just above where we were.  Jenny got food poisoning at the yurt camp below the pass and was sick her whole way up the pass.  She was nonetheless cheerful and very good humored about it.  Side note: on this stretch she would go on to have a very serious crash going downhill fast on the pavement that would take her to the hospital, where she left AMA to return to the course and try to finish her race.  Her husband, who is a doctor, later realized she was bleeding internally, so she returned to the hospital to heal up and then after a second release (I presume this time not AMA), she and Matt toured and cheered on riders.  These are the sort of people who sign up for these things it seems.  Unafraid and undeterred.  

Early in the pavement ride, a truck coming from the other direction came into my lane and slowed.  The man driving handed me a peach.  It was a small act of kindness that I will never forget.  It was one of the things that reminded me that people are mostly good.  The peach was also very good.

After a rideable climb out of Sary Tash, the road began a fairly long descent on windy switchbacks.  As I was coming down there was a large military convoy coming up, replete with large tanks.  Lots of them.  I refrained from taking photos since I wasn't sure how that would be perceived by the soldiers.  I felt like a kid, fascinated with all the big trucks and tanks.  I had to pay attention though since crazy drivers were passing on blind turns into my lane and generally didn't acknowledge me as on the road.   Side note: the drivers are nuts there.  Lots of late 80s early 90s Audis speeding like crazy on terrible roads and a very different concept of lanes and their purpose.  Lanes appear to be more of a suggestion.  I didn't see any road rage - everyone seems to be on the same page regarding the terrifying flow of traffic.  Want to pass in the incoming lane while there's a stream of cars coming?  No problem - they'll just scooch over a bit while you drive down the solid line dividing the road.  

In late afternoon of highway and a bit of headwind, I rolled into Gulcha, where I stopped to do more junk food shopping.  I ran into Brad and Emily and met Anna, a Swedish woman, who was sitting outside a shop somewhat despondent.  I hope she won't mind me sharing that while I felt truly awful for her and there was nothing funny about it, the way she described getting sick on the bike while riding the highway was pretty funny.  Ultra endurance athletes have no qualms about discussing bodily functions in great length and great detail.  These are my people.  

Brad and Emily had the same plan I did, which was to get as far as possible up the next climb before setting up camp, so I rolled out with the two of them.

It was hot AF.  It also felt relatively muggy compared to the higher altitudes.  I think we were still at 5000 feet but it felt like sea level compared to where we had been.  Once it was dark I took my sun hoodie off and rode a bit in my tank top.  This elicited the only cat calls I got the entire trip, so I put my shirt back on.  Somewhere on this stretch I lost my chamois cream which was sad.  We set up camp in a meadow by a stream, and I'm pretty sure horses were snorting outside my tent most of the night.   

Day 4 (Tuesday) -- Past-Gulcha camp to Above-Jalal-Abad camp.

In the morning, as we were packing up, Barry rolled by and we called him over.  By this point we were all already mildly obsessed with Barry (the Scottish guy) - he was so cheerful and fun to talk to (and listen to).  We chatted a bit and he rolled on.  I left camp before Brad and Emily and had a really pleasant time completing the climb.  The landscape was so beautiful with rolling barren hills and handsome horses.  In homage to my buddy Jill Homer, I took a little spill and bloodied my knee pretty badly.  It made me smile since it made me feel Jill's presence.  I didn't have gravel in my elbow though, which she would have had.

I enjoyed a fun descent and eventually cleaned my bloody leg up and cruised my way down the road.  At some point Brad and Emily passed me and I didn't see them again that day.  Eventually I reached a village where I missed my turn and had to backtrack up a hill to the turn.  The road we had to ascend was a road I would not willingly drive my car on.  The early portion was like cliffs of talcum powder with super steep climbs that would level out briefly only to go straight up again.  I patiently pushed up these climbs, feeling like they were totally fine relative to Jiptik Pass.  This awesome Catalonian couple, Rosa and Santi, passed me and indicated they were going to look for a guesthouse in the village.  There were a number of people who were sort of the same general speed as me, so I was never really alone.  I kept making my way up the hill, making the mistake of not filling up on water when I could have.  This is a balance in these things, whether you're racing or touring.  Water is heavy and it's not fun to carry extra weight needlessly, but sometimes you can't be sure that you'll have a good water source anytime soon.  I calculated wrong.  I turned my nose up at an algae covered gross looking stream, and later regretted this choice.  

The climb became more manageable and the sun was going down and the light was turning slanty -- my absolutely favorite time of day.  As I ascended up the road I had great views of the valley below.  This was a very enjoyable climb, though near the top the road became impassibly rutted and there was a large stuck vehicle blocking the entirety of the road.  Getting around it was difficult.

I ran out of most of my water, hoarding the little sips I had left in case I became desperate.  I realized that I could be out of water and thirsty but objectively in no danger.  This sounds like a small realization, but it was empowering.  I knew I had hydrated all day and it was now getting dark and cooler.  I could be out of water and not freak out.  This was a big thing for me.  That said, I knew I'd have to keep riding until I hit water or else I would have to eat cookies for dinner (which without water to wash them down didn't sound like a good plan) and couldn't have morning coffee.  Near the top of the climb an old man/shepherd appeared and we had what felt like a full conversation though neither of us were speaking the same language.  It seemed to me that he was telling me that the pass was close.

As I got close to the top of the pass, a light was shining on me.  Barry was standing in the middle of the road, chatting on the phone with his wife.  (I should note that I didn't get a local SIM card in Kyrgyzstan so I didn't have the level of service others had, which was fine since I wanted to disconnect from the internet - when I later started checking social media and the race tracker it sort of messed with my mind a bit though it did give me previews of the course ahead, which was both good and bad).  

Barry and Ruben were camped on a nice flat spot off the road.  Barry suggested I could camp there with them if I wanted, and I declined since I was out of water.  "We have water."  Well, ok then.  Barry gave me an entire precious liter of water, and I proceeded to spill half of it trying to start my stove.  FML.  I still had enough to make dinner and have morning coffee though so all was well.  The three of us sat high above the lights of Jalal-Abad, which did not seem to interfere with our viewing of what I am now pretty sure was still the Perseid meteor shower.  We agreed that if were weren't going to sacrifice a little sleep for that moment, why were we even there.  It was such a good influence to be with two people who were enjoying the moment and demonstrating the art of "being present."  I slept like the dead, but awoke to a deflated air mattress.  I guess we were sleeping on thorns.  It makes me sick to even acknowledge this but I also got a decent sized hole in the floor of my very expensive tent.  It's just a thing, right?  I'll keep telling myself that.  

Day 5  (Wednesday) -- to Checkpoint 1/Arslanbob.

I left camp with Barry relatively early -- though I remain terrible at packing up and getting moving with any speed whatsoever.  We finished the remainder of the climb and began a super fun descent.  We quickly found water (yay!) and I tried to follow Barry's line as we descended.  Barry is all about mountain biking and despite being on a fully loaded bike, he would catch air off anything he could.  It was fun to watch.  Me, I do not catch air on purpose.  But I did push a little outside my comfort zone - only a little.  But it was fun.  Somehow I managed to repeat my crash and re-open my wounds, but a little pedal/cleat adjustment prevented any further repeats.  

I'm a little fuzzy on portions of the day, but eventually we again ran into Brad and Emily.  There was a section of really desert-y double track that was really pretty cool if physically hot.  They stopped for a bit at a village just before a long climb, and Barry and I headed on to the climb.  I was worried that there would be no water, having learned my lesson, so I was carrying quite a lot of water.  Barry encouraged me to drink my water without regard to running out rather than hoarding.  Old habits die hard, Barry.  Anyhow, there was plenty of water on this climb but it was very hot.  Have I mentioned that it was hot?

A note about the climbs in Kyrgyzstan: most of the climbs were 10-20 miles long with some pretty steep stretches on varying surfaces.  It takes some patience to learn the zen of long climbs I'll tell ya.  This one was a 12 mile climb almost immediately followed by another 5 mile climb.

A police car pulled over and got out with a clipboard.  This was my first "oh shit" moment of the race, where I genuinely didn't know what was going to happen.  Turns out they just wanted selfies with Barry and to be his Instagram friend.  I don't know if this is good or bad, but men often completely ignored me as though I am invisible but were enamored by Barry.  I think this was the same day a man in a village shop asked Barry if I was "his" and he said yes, finding this to be uproariously hilarious.  Whatever it takes to not have to make small talk in a language I don't speak I guess.  

Back to the climb.  I felt really good, and was elated to know with certainty that we were going to make the first checkpoint with time to spare.  Barry I guess was not feeling so great, though he hid it pretty well.  We did stop a lot and while he insists I am the gross one ("disgusting creature"), he kept cooling his head in ditch water.  

At some point we decided to take a break at a shop and I tried the roast chicken flavored chips.  There are many questionable chip flavors there -- a lot of crab and seafood flavored salty snacks.  While we were hanging out, Brad and Emily caught us and joined us.  While we were sitting outside the shop, a kid brought us, courtesy of the shop owner, some fresh bread, cookies, donuts, and tomatoes with salt.  She wouldn't accept any money for this.  As Brad observed, the people with the least are some of the most generous, and she certainly fit this mold.  We were all somewhat overwhelmed by this act of kindness and generosity.    

Eventually we continued on, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one who wasn't suffering from the heat.  Although the race was Brad's idea, Emily let me know that she blamed me for her suffering since she wouldn't even know Brad if she hadn't met me.  She was kidding of course but there was still an edge to her voice that suggested she was suffering a bit.  Which to be honest I'd never seen before.  Emily is pretty much invincible.  Anyhow, the road kept going up and up and up.  After a short down, we continued going up and up.  Eventually we reached the top and an incredible view of the mountains above Arslanbob.  Unfortunately the descent was steep and very loose.  I hated it.  Barry crashed and likely cracked a rib.  Emily wisely walked a lot of it.  I skidded my way down and after seeing Brad also skidding down, I decided this must be an acceptable way to descend.

As we entered Arslanbob, I was immediately regretful that I wouldn't be able to explore any of it.  It seemed like a really nice old city worthy of at least a day.  Again we climbed up to the place where the checkpoint was, and entered into a fairly surreal scene full of riders in varying states of being.  We were offered a homemade "compote," which is essentially juice but not overly sweet.  It was incredibly delicious.  Dinner was salad, soup, and plov.  There was a spread of bread and fruit on the table.  It felt decadent.  

None of us had really discussed our plans after CP1, though the elephant in the room was the fact that to reach CP2, we would need to average a daily distance that we had not managed to reach most days thus far.  The math wasn't good.  After very brief declarations of opinion that I wouldn't really call a conversation, mine being that it was too soon to give up, Barry, this guy Darren from California, and I headed to our guesthouse for the night, where I washed my gross clothes and charged all the electronics.  I went to bed optimistic and determined.  Emily and I agreed to chat in the morning though I think she may have already told me that she and Brad were going to scratch and tour the Arabel Plataeu area.  I went to bed knowing that I was not going to join them.  

Day 6 (Thursday) -- Arslanbob to a store somewhere

The night prior the proprietor of the guesthouse asked when we wanted breakfast.  The others wanted a pretty late breakfast, and I was sort of whatever about it.  I needed my clothes to dry.  That morning, I started feeling an intense battle of FOMO.  I knew that the section after CP1 was going to be "slow going" and also hot.  I knew we were getting a late start when we were already under the gun (or that f'ing snail on the tracking page actually).  The section Brad and Emily were talking about riding looked beautiful and I started imagining all the fun they were going to have without me.

I knew from Instagram that the next section had single track, which I don't love on my fully loaded bike.  I saw on my GPS that there was a 20 mile climb coming up.  It was already quite hot by morning.  I lost my resolve and messaged Ted and my friend Amy that I was going to ride with Brad and Emily.  Ted clearly did not approve and did not lend his support for this decision.  Amy sent me a really nice message about what "what-ifs are forever."  She later shared with me that she knew she needed to say just the right thing and do it quickly -- she nailed it.  Barry basically lost his shit on me when I told him.  I couldn't tell if he was serious but he seemed kind of serious.  I was learning that you don't double cross a Scot.  So, feeling both encouraged and shamed, I got myself out the door with Barry and Darren.

I started the day with a bit of depression, which was improved with cookies and the positivity of Barry and Darren.  This was also the day I felt the most stomach distress, though I count myself lucky to have never gotten as sick as so many others did.  Darren had been struggling with a seat-post issue which negatively impacted his body.  Despite his discomfort, he was nothing but positive and cheerful.  We made our way through the largest walnut forest in the world and through the terrible single track without incident.  

We had some lunch and eventually made our way to road, which was a relief for me.  This took us to a ridiculous suspension bridge that looked very, um, rustic.  I waited for both Barry and Darren to cross and then managed to pucker and walk my bike across.  We then had another long and hot climb up dirt double track, though it was (as it was everywhere) beautiful.  

While taking a little break under a tree, someone stopped and gave us a bag of grapes and a can of mojito soda.  The soda was amazing and I ate most of the grapes I think.  Again, the generosity of humans is often overshadowed by the assholes.  I hope to cling to these small memories as proof that the world is good.  

It was getting dark as we crested the top of the climb and began a mellow descent.  Despite not having a good light for some reason, Darren was amenable to my demand that we all ride as late as possible to make up for our late start.  Note: I knew well before this point that if I finished it would be unofficial, having ridden far too much with others.  You're not supposed to team up.  Right or wrong, I was enjoying the company of these awesome new friends far too much to care.  Anyhow, we descended through what I will always remember as the gauntlet of dogs.  House after house had dog after dog, all of whom chased us with varying levels of malice.  There were dogs everywhere and some of them wanted to kill us.  Most just wanted to chase and bark at us.  This eventually led us to a village where we stopped for a snack dinner around 10 p.m.  I chose ice cream, Sprite, and chips for my dinner.  As we were sitting, the shop owner invited us to stay there for the night.  We decided that not having to camp would save us time on the morning side of things and allow us to leave early, so we would take him up on his offer.  The three of us slept in this room in the back of the shop, and the woman owner strongly encouraged me to shower,  gently and kindly leading me there by the arm without comment.  Darren spent some time chit chatting with the owners' kid via Google Translate and I quickly fell into a sound sleep.     

Day 7 (Friday) -- the store to not quite Kazarman

The morning began with Darren vomiting and making many trips to the bathroom, which was a long drop hole in the ground in a shed a decent walk from the store.  If you can't do Turkish toilets and holes in the ground, Kyrgyzstan is probably not for you.  

After a bit of this, he rallied and we all headed out still relatively early - before it was light.  Barry was leading the way and we were pedaling hard on the pavement.  I was feeling very good about this, when Darren wanted to stop at a shop.  He slumped onto the stoop after buying a few snacks and shared that he was feeling very sick.  We encouraged him to figure out how to keep moving, which included calling his girlfriend Nina.  It wasn't clear to me if he reached her but he decided he needed to stop for awhile.  Barry wanted to stay with him but being apparently not as good a person I said "there's nothing we can do for him we need to get moving."  So we left sick and pale Darren on the stoop and waved goodbye after sharing email addresses.  It felt sort of Hunger Games.

I made a plan for getting to CP2.  We would do the 20 miles climb, hit Kazarman that night, and then do a big push to Naryn the next day.  The course description said the 130ish (140?) miles between Kazarman and Naryn would be relatively fast.  I guess I should have honed in more on the "relative" part.  This plan would give us plenty of time to do the slow but beautiful Arabel pass/plateau section to CP2.  

We began the 20 mile climb, and it was quite pretty.  Barry and I made the short-term goal of chasing down and catching the Catalonian couple Santi and Rosa.  We agreed that those two were a great example of awesome people who love life and live it well.  But we made them our competitive targets anyhow.  Along the way a van pulled up and Brad, Emily, Ruben, and this kick-ass Slovakian woman who lives in Myanmar, Adriana, hopped out and said hi.  We all hugged and it made me so happy.  We encouraged them to distract Santi and Rosa when they reached them.  The climb turned into what Brad described as a Tour de France hairpin turn climb and seemed to go on forever without getting us higher up the mountain.  The relatively mellow grade was enjoyable riding for me, and I pedaled probably more than I should have given the fact that it wasn't really very fast.  We decided we would have a late lunch at the top.

When we finally made it to the top, it was not lunch time.  It was dark.  The wind smacked us hard once we reached the pass and tormented us as we started down the mountain.  It was a cliffy windy descent, and the wind was sideways and seemed to want to push us right off the side.  Even Barry was uncomfortable and said he considered telling me to hug the non-cliff side a little better but didn't want to be condescending.  We briefly chatted about needing to get off the mountain and out of the wind, but it didn't seem to be getting better.  Adding insult to injury, there were giant cold puddles.  It was already getting quite cold and clearly we also needed cold wet feet.  It was scary so we decided to just find the first acceptable camp spot and hope the descent would be better in daylight.  We set up camp and children immediately appeared from nowhere, very curious about our gear and what we were doing.  A lot of the children we encountered reminded me of Yoda in the Empire Strikes Back, rummaging with great interest through our stuff.  Not to take anything, but just like, "what is this?"  One of the kids lit his lantern so we could see while setting up camp.  They really wanted to help.  Barry, being a grandpa and seeming to know just the right things to do and say, thanked them for helping and gave them each some cash.  They were pretty excited and ran off smiling.  We made a plan to set 4 a.m. alarms and crashed.