OK, so we can almost cross the Taklamakan Desert off our China Bucket List; amazing but thanks to the paved oil exploration road, not so bad. Given that without the road it would have lived up to its reputation, “The Sea of Death”.

We had to make a “few” miles every day because we still had lots to see in the next 21 days – 4,000 miles. Unfortunately, our route demanded that we stay on main highways, but in Korla we veered off on an interesting secondary road. It was certainly a slower pace and we had to constantly be aware of pedestrians and other drivers, both of whom operate with blinders on.

The Fat Man Noodle Restaurant

Green insisted that we stop at the Fat Man Noodle restaurant. Great idea! Green knew her Chinese food. Apparently, many towns are famous for something.

This is the proud owner of the Fat Man Restaurant in Kumux, southwest of Turpan.

Taking a loop into the desert, we visited an old Uyghur village and the Jiache Ruins before continuing on to the larger ancient oasis of Goachang. This was a busy trading center and stopping point for merchant traders traveling on the Silk Road starting in the 1^st century BC. It was destroyed in wars during the 14th century, but many ruins of this impressive and large city including the old palace can still be seen today. The standing walls and structures, now over 2,000 years old, were quite amazing. Bricks were apparently not used back then. The building technique was handfuls or buckets of mud one layer at a time and patted in place or formed into huge blocks. There are 77 known caves nearby that still have murals and tombs where nobles, officials, and others were interred.

Trouble in the Rear

Arriving in nearby Turpan early evening, there was no place to set up Green’s tent, so we found a cute hotel with a big parking area where we could relax and she could sleep and clean up. It was here that we discovered a major problem. The camper had been listing to the passenger side even though the Hellwig airbags were holding their 40 pounds of air pressure. Closer inspection showed that the shroud of the camper body was actually coming down and touching the airbag. The temporary solution was to take my Ingersoll-Rand air-powered reciprocal saw and grinder powered by our twin ExtremeAir Velocity compressors which feed our Viair 2.5-gallon aluminum reserve air tank to 125 psi. and trim the inner camper shroud off so that it no longer touched the airbag on bumps. Having the right tools for emergency repairs on a long overland trip can save the day. This was not the ultimate solution and we would not find out the real problem for several weeks.

Three hundred and thirty seven thousand square kilometers, (130,000 sq. mi), The Taklamakan is one of the largest sandy deserts in the world and one of the most dangerous. Nicknamed “The Sea of Death”, one translation in Chinese is, “If you go in, you won’t come out.”

Flanked by the high Tien Shan Mountains to the north, the Kunlun Mountains to the south, the Pamirs to the west and the daunting Gobi Desert on the east severely restricted access to a region that was already extremely hazardous to traverse. With a length of 1,000 kilometers, (620 miles), and a width of 400 kilometers (250 miles), it was a major obstacle for caravans along the Silk Road. Lisa, our trip planner at Navo-Tour, was surprised that we insisted on crossing it.

Taklamakan Desert, the Sea of Death

Its larger sand-dune chains range from 100 to 500 feet (30 to 150 meters) in height, while its pyramidal dunes rise 650 to 1,000 feet (200 to 300 meters). Needless to say, no one in their right mind would attempt to cross this waterless desert with a string of camels. Caravans had to go around it. In the 1950s, oil was discovered in the north and even greater deposits were found in the 1980s along the southern rim, which is where we turned north off  the “Southern Silk Route” (Hwy 315). Our plan was to drive across the center to Luntai where we could pick up the “Northern Silk Route”. Our map showed a secondary oil exploration road that would traverse the desert at one of its widest points. Even with altitudes ranging from 3,900 to 4,900 feet above sea level, daytime temperatures can still exceed 100°F, and unless you are a lizard there is not a lot of shade.

As we headed across, the landscape was flat and barren. A stream disappeared into the ground. Drifting sand was a major problem. Artificial sand breaks were built out of reeds stuck into the sand and an extensive drip irrigation system kept a row of tamarisk and nitre bushes alive along the edge of the blacktop. The occasional hummock in the sand dunes formed around a struggling tree or scrub. Soon there was only endless sand, but it was spectacular in its diverse shapes and colors. Strange outcroppings of clay or sand stone surfaced occasionally, possibly formed during the Cenozoic age about 655 million years ago. We saw no wildlife of any kind, only the funny tracks of lizards, snakes and mice. Depending on the texture of the sand and the direction of the wind, the surface was constantly changing.

Gary trekked up a sand dune in the middle of our Taklamakan desert crossing.

The original idea was to spend a night in the middle of the desert, but the soft fine almost powdery sand was no place to set up Green’s tent. To our surprise, we came to the small settlement of Tachong midway with a gas station and a bunch of run-down hotels “servicing” the nearby oil exploration sites employees. No place for Green to stay safely. We asked permission to camp for the night on the edge of the gas station pad and we all relaxed in the cool of the evening. I was reminded of a famous saying by Carl Franz, author of People’s Guide to Mexico, “Wherever you go, there you are!”

In the morning we got an early start, which for us means maybe 9:00. As we got closer to Luntai vegetation increased and a grove of suffering sand blown Euphrates Poplar made a good lunch stop. We soon came to our first military checkpoint and Green convinced them that she really was a guide. She had to dig out her official papers.

Our wonderful guide, Green, was happy to have crossed the infamous Taklamakan Desert. She had never been here before.

Tensions between Han Chinese authorities, (the majority of the population), and the Hui minority people, (Muslim), natives to the Taklamakan, have existed for centuries. Han Chinese migration into the region, coupled with Islamic fundamentalist agitation elsewhere in Asia and minority unrest across the border in the Central Asian Republics, has fostered more open hostility by local peoples against the (Han) Chinese.

Just after we joined the “Northern Silk Road”, (Hwy 314), we spotted a deserted workers’ camp and truck stop. It was a perfect place to spend the night. There was even an irrigation ditch that gave us a chance to replenish our water supply, one bucket at a time. Monika and Green did a quick laundry and we studied our route to Turpan and the Gaochang Gucheng ruins. Gaochang Gucheng had been a busy trading center in the 1^st century BC and it was an important stopping point for merchant caravans traveling on the Silk Road.

A little sad that we had missed the knife factories in Yengisar, but it wasn’t really on our major must-see list. We were following the southern edge of the infamous Taklamakan Desert. In at least one of the Chinese languages, Taklamakan means, “If you go in, you won’t come out”. Hummm?

We always knew what jade was but never imagined that there were so many colors and huge examples.

After spending an hour and a half driving around Yecheng in the dark and being stopped by a SWAT team, we finally found the Electric Hotel that allowed foreigners, (many did not), and a safe enclosed parking lot. We were advised not to venture outside the hotel grounds at night for our safety.

Hotan, a famous jade town

An early start in the morning brought us to the historic oasis town of Hotan (Hetian), strategically located at the junction of the southern (and most ancient) branch of the Silk Road joining the West with one of the main routes from India and Tibet to Central Asia and China. It was an ideal meeting place where not only goods, but also technologies, philosophies, and religions were exchanged from one culture to another.

Gary was in seventh heaven tasting all kinds of street food.

Where there is water there is life. Surrounded by the Karakash River and the White Jade River flowing from the distant foothills of the Himalayas, the Hotan area prospered and survived on the edge of the vast Taklamakan Desert. Hotan artists and craftsman are known for their prized carpets and carvings, and for the “mutton fat” jade still being collected from the White Jade River. Of course we never get tired of exploring new markets, but after our recent visits to some of the biggest in Asia, like Kashgar, a stop at the famous jade market was not on our agenda. OK, Green loved jade so it was easy for her to convince us. We did stop at the food market to see what edible treasures we could find, but the Jade Market was definitely amazing. We were the only Westerners in town. Noted in our Lonely Planet China guide book, as the “Sunday Jade Market”, it is a very busy place every day of the week. While serious jade buyers scrutinized the overwhelming selection, food vendors were as interesting, with barbecue grills full of juicy lamb Shish Kebabs or Shashlik and rolling buffets of tempting dishes to go.

These guys were walking the market selling sunflower seeds, a popular snack.

Jaded” out, figuratively speaking, we headed west just in time to find a nice gravel pit for the night, a quiet place for Green to set up her comfy MSR tent for the first time with a double layer of  Therm-a-Rest sleeping pads. She thought it was cool that it was “green”. Monika cooked up a delicious lamb stew and we slept well——except someone back home had put a bug in Green’s ear that there were wolves in the desert, so she ended up sleeping in a bed we made for her in the truck’s cab, try as we did to convince her that there was not a wolf for a hundred miles cuz there was nothing for them to eat. Turns out she had never slept in a tent alone, only with other people. No wolves came that night. She got braver and later, we all could laugh about it.

Back in the days of the Silk Road, Kashgar was one of the most important trading stops along this historic Route. Having survived the treacherous crossing of the Taklamakan Desert east of Kashgar, many merchants probably stopped here for weeks to bargain and exchange goods before returning home. In essence, it was a giant marketplace and bazaar which continues today. Our wonderful guide, Green, had some other ideas to explore and we followed her obediently.

Kids are kids anywhere in the world!

We would be preparing most of our food on the road which included Green. As luck would have it, she was a pretty good cook herself. Our next stop was a giant produce market. Along the way we passed the hardware bazaar which is always fascinating. Wandering along alleys of “Old Kashgar”, we started to get a close-up look at the Chinese people, at least at this end of the country. They were Uyghur, an ethnic Turkic group.

Leaving Kashgar we started our journey southeast of what would be a series of superhighways. We needed to cover distance each day in order to keep on our route. We would rather have followed the many secondary roads through villages in the distance, but these main highways were protected and guarded by 2 or 3-foot metal guardrails and eight-strand barbwire fences behind them. We could drive an hour or two before there was even a place to turn off the highway.

Yes, women really do wear these amazing prints and colors.

We had hoped to stop at the famous knife factory in Yengisar, but we missed the turnoff and there was no way to make a U-turn on these highways for miles. We later suspected that Green may have missed the turnoff on purpose because Yengisar was an Uyghur Moslem town, and Green was a Buddhist Han. The majority of Chinese are Han. There had been some recent uprisings and it’s very possible that an authority ordered her not to stop as it might have endangered her and our safety or so they thought. (A political incident with foreigners needed to be avoided at all cost.)

We were starting to understand that China is not a unified nation. With so many different languages, conflicting religions and cultures it turns out that there seems to be a lot of people who don’t want to be “Chinese”, which represents quite a problem for the controlling communist government.

Unintentionally, the boy was displaying his sister’s pretty dress.

Then there was wild camping. RV parks or campgrounds were nonexistent, and as one overland traveler observed, if there’s a flat piece of land anywhere near the highway, someone is growing something. That was mostly true further east. Around 5:00 in the afternoon we would start watching for empty lots, gravel pits or ???. By 6:00 we got less picky. There had to be a dry flat spot for Green to set up her MSR tent.

Now we had barely a month to play, minus the two days it took to get into China and the two more days it would take to get out of China, (talk about bureaucracies), and unlike our normal mode of travel, “Don’t take the trip. Let the trip take you.”, we did have somewhat of a march route. As previously mentioned, we also had to exit China at an exact place on an exact day. There was lots to see over the next 4,286 miles (6,897 km). We were following the Silk Road and our Eurasian Odyssey goal of driving ocean to ocean, wheels on the ground, was in sight.

These kids loved posing for us.

Without running on about all the incredible things we saw, as the old saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. If you glance through this selection and read the captions, you will get a feeling for the experience we were having on our first real day in China. The first night on the road we prepared American style spaghetti, and Green was learning how to eat noodles with a spoon and fork instead of chopsticks. She was a real sport.

China! We had started our process to drive across all of China months before. Working with Lisa Li at NAVO Tour in Chengdu, we explained to her what our overall plan was; to drive from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean, across all of Eurasia, following the Silk Road. To drive our own vehicle in China, we would need a guide, whether it was one vehicle or ten. Three would be nice so the cost of the guide and other paperwork could be shared. In the end, by the time we had reached Turkey, others who had said they would go with us wimped out. We were not about to turn back! In retrospect, it turned out to be the best decision we made.

Evidence! Only 5,000 miles to go to reach the Yellow Sea and the North Pacific Ocean.

The paperwork involved detailed information about our truck and ourselves. Really detailed!! Then a route needed to be designed so that we could enter at an exact place and time and exit at a specific border and time and stop at some of the historical and cultural highlights of this huge and very complex country like the Great Wall of China and the famous Terracotta Warriors. We also wanted to cross the Taklamakan Desert. In Chinese, Taklamakan means, “If you go in, you won’t come out.” Well yeah! Our mandatory guide would ride with us every inch of the way, and once our route was decided on, we could not deviate from it for more than 35 km, (21 miles), or risk heavy fines which would be imposed on us and on NAVO Tour. An advance deposit of $2,500 was made and we were committed.

Women rode their motorscooters very proficiently.

Through all of this process, Lisa at the NAVO’s head office was extremely efficient and patient, answering our every question and advising us of what we should not miss.   (en@navo-tour.com) If we had a problem, she had an answer. Now, with our truck parked a few yards from the gate at the Chinese border at the Turugart Pass, 3,752 meters, (12,909 feet), we waited for an intermediate guide to meet us.

The lengthy 2-hour lunch lethargically crept by and our first guide finally showed up. We presented our papers and proceeded to the second Customs and Immigration center an hour away, still an hour’s drive from Kashgar where we would meet our real guide that evening. We would need to drive to yet another Customs and Immigration center outside of Kashgar the next day with our temporary guide for even more inspections and paper work; Chinese driver’s license, temporary import license plate etc., etc. Every inch of our expedition camper and truck was checked, measured, weighed and scanned.

Green spotted a cute hole-in-the-wall café and I tried to remember how to use chopsticks.

Our official real guide was waiting for us at the Hotel Seman, the old Russian embassy, where we could park and camp for the night. We had asked Lisa to find someone who was short, thin and spoke fluent English. Picky, picky, but knowing the guide would need to sit on a make-shift seat on the center console for a month between us, this was very important. Green was perfect. She was born on Earth Day so she gave herself the English name Green. She was excited to travel with us. We would camp every night possible and weather permitting, Green would sleep outside in the MSR tent we carried. Every third night, we would try to find a hotel where she could stay and we would camp in the hotel parking lot.

At Kashgar’s Copper Market craftsmen were still using traditional hand tools.

Green had an astounding knowledge of China and had prepared well to be our guide in Kashgar. The next day, we headed straight to some of the many markets and learned very quickly that she was a “food junky”, in a good way. She could spot tasty street food or a safe hole-in-the-wall café wherever we went. Having a guide was a huge advantage. There are at least eight different linguistic groups, with hundreds of dialects and variations. Often they are not mutually understandable. Green was fluent in at least a couple of the main languages.

Driving in Kashgar was—huh—exciting. Eighty percent of the traffic was by motorscooter and 95% of those were electric, so we could not hear them coming. Drivers are totally unpredictable. Painted lines are just decoration and pedestrians will simply walk out in front of an oncoming vehicle without even looking. Thank the gods for our two very loud Fiamm air horns. “Loud Horn” is an international language! As a method of survival, we used taxis to get around big cities. Our first stop was the bank to change money, then lunch, one of Green’s specialties, and then on to the copper market. Let the photos tell a little of the story. Too many words get in the way of the experience we want you to have.

Dirt tracks to yurt camps were tempting but China was calling.

As we picked up the highway coming out of the valley below Song-Köl lake, we figured we’d better top up our fuel before we hit the Chinese border. The last possible place was the town of At-Bashy. We weren’t the only ones with same idea. Trucks, buses, cars and people with jerry cans were all waiting in line. Half an hour later, we finally made it to the pump and nudged ourselves in front of a line of well used cans, interestingly enough, mostly NATO style, the same as we have used for many years. The imported European pumps measured fuel in liters and cost-per-liter in Euros. The actual price was converted to Kyrgyz Soms. After we filled our two tanks and our two reserve jerry cans, much to the annoyance of the waiting line, it worked out to 219 liters or 58 gallons at a cost of $ 3.05 per gallon. It was a seller’s market to be sure. We took a quick spin through town. There were some interesting monuments, with horses of course. After picking up a few last-minute supplies in a small corner store, we were back on the highway, which was excellent or under construction as usual.

Tash Rabat

The Turtle V is parked in front of Tash Rabat, a Kyrgyz caravanserai.

The turn-off for Tash Rabat was good gravel as it climbed to just over 11,500 feet into a high mountain valley, and there it was, one of the most impressive caravanserais we would see on the entire Silk Road. Surrounded by mountains, this 15^th century stone fortress is truly a lasting monument to the famous trading route we had been following for over a year. Originally built as a Nestorian monastery in the 10^th century, the interior included 31 rooms and chambers in the main hall where merchandise could be safely stored. There were long benches, probably for sleeping. The rooms were dome-shaped, making an interesting transition from a quadrangular frame. The entire building was made of stone with a clay mortar and gypsum mortar to seal the joints. Being a popular tourist attraction, there was even a pit toilet outside, but not one you might really want to use. Before there were physical borders, border guards, customs, immigration and visas, caravans of camels and horses laden with goods from both east and west would stop here to rest and trade their treasures.

This cozy guest yurt at Sabyrbek Yurt Camp in Tash Rabat sleeps four.

We drove out past the tourist home-stay yurts and found a perfect spot near a clear running creek. A Kyrgyz family was preparing a serious picnic near us with a small wood-burning stove and two more big pots steaming away. A few buckets of water from the creek made The Turtle V presentable for the border crossing and we enjoyed a long hot shower.

Before leaving Tash Rabat we decided to check out the nearby Sabyrbek’s Yurt Camp where we met the friendly owner, Tursun, who spoke excellent English. 

For several of our sponsors, we took some PR photos of The Turtle V “yurt” parked among other yurts. Gates received this hilarious version, courtesy of an internet transmission fluke!

She runs the camp and her husband organizes horseback tours throughout Kyrgyzstan. Tursun invited us for tea and we exchanged much information about Kyrgyzstan and the puzzling behavior of tourists. Heading south, first on a good highway, then more construction and finally the road just turned rough gravel. We said goodbye to the snow-clad mountains and herds of yaks, sheep, goats and horses peacefully grazing around tidy yurts. Chinese guard towers welcomed us.

At a small blue trailer perched on rickety stilts they checked our passports and we paid the $50.00 (US) exit fee. A guard opened the gate to let us out of Kyrgyzstan into no-man’s land. Somewhere near the top of Turugart Pass, 3,752 meters, (12,909 feet), we arrived at the first entry into China where we were supposed to meet a guide who would take us to the first immigration station. Our official guide who would travel with us across the country was waiting for us in Kashgar. The first guide was not there yet, and the crossing was closed for a long lunch break. We waited. It would not be the first time. This was China.

Leaving Kochkor, we filled our water tank at a street faucet. In these countries you need to fill every time you can. Once again, it was bucket time. We had purchased a large funnel to fit the fill tube on the camper back in Khorog, Tajikistan at their weekly open market.

At today’s modern world, “highways” like this don’t happen very often.

Turning off the pavement, we aired down to 35psi to smooth the ride and prevent flats. As the road began to climb there were herds of yaks grazing peacefully. Never a fence in sight. No yaks wandering across the road. Maybe they have more sense than normal cows and horses. The rocky washboard twisted west and we could see the shimmering water of Lake Song-Köl in the distance. We turned into a multiple set of ruts, obviously a well-used track. The view was breathtaking, and it wasn’t the altitude, now 3,016 meters, (9,895 feet). Surrounded by mountains and rolling hills, it was the postcard picture of the Kyrgyz nomadic way of life, sprinkled with scattered yurts and herds of cattle, sheep, goats, and horses. We could explore the lake shore in the morning. For the moment, it was so peaceful, we simply pulled off the two-track for a hundred yards and set up camp. Time to cook dinner. I pulled out our Weber Go-Anywhere barbeque and laid on some juicy lamb chops we had scored back in Kochkor. People often ask, “Well, what do cook on the road?” The answer, “Everything!”

Lake Song-Köl

At first glance we thought this was a statue, but it was actually a lone horseback rider checking his cell phone.

The cozy-looking yurts were our neighbors’ summer homes where these nomadic people take advantage of the high-altitude grass for their herds of cattle, horses and flocks of sheep. Smoke from their cooking stoves gave the yurts a warm feeling as evening temperatures dropped. We momentarily wished we had a little stove in our camper, (yurt), but then, where would we store all the dried yak dung for the fire. We quickly abandoned the idea and turned on our Espar diesel-powered Airtronic heater. By early Fall the yurts would be folded up and taken to lower elevations. The area is covered in snow for 200 days a year, the lake is frozen over, and the road we drove up is most likely closed.

Except for the occasional distant baa-ing of a lonely lamb, the silence was magical. There were a few yurts used as home stays at the far end of the lake but no tourists in sight except for one British couple camped by the shore. We later joined them for an evening of travel talk and beer.

This small herd of horses preferred the narrow peninsula that jutted out into the lake. Maybe there were fewer flies out there.

Lake Song-Köl is the kind of wilderness gem that you drive thousands of miles on questionable roads just so you can sit in the glow of a setting sun and marvel at the immense beauty. After three days, China was calling and the last road sign we saw said, “Torugart, 396 kilometers”. We headed back out, but there was a T-junction where the ruts merged with the two-track. On a hunch, we turned right and followed it toward the horizon. This had to be the alternate way back to the blacktop, right? When you come to a fork in the road,—-take it.

At the edge of a deep valley, the road dropped precipitously through a dozen or more spectacular switchbacks to another junction and improved gravel. Road construction was ongoing. Vendors had set up along the sides of the “highway” selling mountain honey and balls of dried yoghurt, a popular snack calle

d Qurut (Kurut).

Whiffs of smoke drifting out of the yurt on the right, told us someone was already preparing dinner.

Our final stop before leaving Kyrgyzstan would be Tash Rabat, one of the most impressive caravanserais along the entire Silk Road. Half buried in a hillside overlooking a beautiful valley, 3,530 meters, (11,581 feet), above sea level, some say it is Kyrgyzstan’s most treasured monument.

A little update on the “Magic Girl of the Pamirs”, the young girl who waded out into the creek, took the brush from my hands, and proceeded to help wash our truck. (Along The Pamir Hwy – Tajikistan #8). For simplicity and to protect her privacy, her name is “Masha”. We were able to contact the director of The American Corner in the town of Khorog three hours from Masha’s village.

The innocent eyes of wonder we saw in this eleven year old girl said: “I don’t know who you are but I want to talk to you.”

The American Corner is a free learning center sponsored by the American Embassy designed to promote mutual understanding between the United States and Tajikistan. They provide up-to-date information about U.S. history, society, education, culture, and teach English to visitors.

The director, Sheroz Naimov, volunteered to help us. Hitching a ride with a friend to Masha’s village, he spoke to her and her father and explained that we wanted to sponsor her in the prestigious Aga Khan Lycée private school in Khorog, Sheroz told us Masha had tears in her eyes. Her father called Sheroz the next day to ask in wonder, “Is this really going to happen?” Yes, Sheroz told him, but now the first problem would be to find a safe place for her to live in Khorog. Secondly, could she pass the entrance test with her very poor math and Russian? Dreams do come true. Stay tuned.

Leaving our camp on Ysyk-Köl, where we wished we could have spent a month, the pressure of our exact date to enter China was not to be ignored. We had kept tabs on the progress of our Chinese Visa back in Bishkek and all was going well. We needed to hurry now, but we didn’t need to rush. It was a short detour up to the beautiful Karakol Valley National Park. Great camp sites were everywhere and even a clear creek babbling by. Unfortunately, Kyrgyz picnickers, like their Russian counterparts, leave their trash behind. We took the time to set up our MSR backpacking tent that would be used by our Chinese guide. Coincidently, the color was “green”, our guide’s working English name. She chose it because she was born on Earth Day.

Little boys like their baseball caps.

Not knowing what conditions lay ahead nor how much time we would have on the road in China, we did a full lube and oil change on The Turtle V, including our Dual Amsoil Oil Filter System, www.amsoil.com. With the filters, we needed 15 quarts of Amsoil 15W/40 Synthetic Heavy-Duty Diesel & Marine motor oil which we took from the 14-gallon oil reserve tank built into the rear of the camper. Years ago, we realized that finding quality lubricants in third world countries could be a problem.

A phone call confirmed that our Chinese Visa was ready to be picked up so we headed back to the town of Karakol to buy a few more supplies and empty my oil drain pan—a plastic bag in a cardboard box—containing 15 quarts of used oil and two used oil filters. That turned out to be somewhat of a comedy. We did not speak Kyrgyz and only broken Russian. There were no recycle places in town. At length, we were directed to a small shop that sold oil. The owner talked about $5. We thought that he wanted to charge us $5 to recycle the oil. After some debate, it turned out that he wanted to pay $5 to buy the used oil. Mystery solved, we gave it to him with an Amsoil hat.

We headed for Bishkek with a smile on our face. The road was familiar and traffic was normal; horses, sheep and goats. We quickly found a relatively quiet parking place on a side street a few blocks from the visa office. Was it safe? Well, looking around at the Range Rovers, Mercedes and BMWs parked all day on the same street, we made a calculated guess.

These beautiful felt carpets and hand-embroidered wall hangings are typically used in yurts but are also an attraction for tourists.

Back out of town with visa in hand, (YEAH!!!), we headed west again on A365 and took the turnoff onto A367 towards the historic Silk Road caravanserai, Tash Rabat and the Turugart Chinese border. At a junction, we stopped at the friendly village of Kochkor to visit their wonderful yet somewhat dated Regional Museum. The interesting displays gave us a good feeling about the traditional Kyrgyz way of life. One room contained a full-size yurt decorated as it might be used in the countryside. Nearby we also found the Altyn Kol Shop, (Golden Hands), a women’s co-operative showroom and shop selling beautiful handmade felt rugs called Shyrdak, (made from the fine wool the region is famous for), and hand embroidered tapestries traditionally hung in yurts. Proceeds of all sales go directly to the individual artists.

We still had a few days to explore this friendly country so we took the turn off to Song-Köl, at 3,016 meters, (9,895 feet), the second largest lake in Kyrgyzstan. As we climbed into the mountains, hay was being harvested, mostly by hand. The evidence of human labor was amazing.

Aside from a little road construction, our drive from our camp on Ysyk-Köl Lake was easy. Roadside Muslim graveyards were interesting with their elaborately decorated tombs. We took our time with stops near Tong and Tamga, carefully planning our arrival for Sunday morning and the start of the amazing Karakol Animal Market, the second largest in Central Asia. We didn’t want to miss this market, because our absolute date to cross the Chinese border was August 28, and that was a Thursday. We knew we would be tied up with Chinese bureaucratic paperwork most of the next two days in Turugart & Kashgar. Once we were connected with our mandatory Chinese, guide there would not be enough time to visit the even bigger animal market in Kashgar.

Gary couldn’t pass up some smoked lake trout sold by this street vendor on Lake Ysyk-Köl.

For the moment at least, we did not need to hurry. Ysyk-Köl is the tenth largest lake in the world by volume (though not in surface area) and the second largest saline lake after the Caspian Sea. Ysyk-Köl means “warm lake” in the Kyrgyz language. With an altitude of 1,608 meters, (5,276 ft.), it is also the second largest mountain lake in the world, just behind Lake Titicaca in South America. Its depth reaches 668 meters, (2,192 ft.). Our own beautiful Lake Tahoe, also surrounded by snow-capped peaks, is 507 meters deep, (1,664 ft.), with an altitude of 1,897 meters, (6,225 ft.), and most assuredly not warm.

We visited the second largest Animal Market in Central Asia in the Kygyz town of Karakol on Lake Ysyk Köl.

One of the specialties the Ysyk-Köl Lake is famous for are its smoked lake trout. At a major intersection near the lake, vendors lined up with their catch and were joined by women selling buckets of fat apricots, apples and piles of berries.

The Lake was a stopover on the Silk Road for travelers from the Far East to Europe. Many historians believe that it was the point of origin for the Black Death that devastated Europe and Asia during the early and mid-14th century. The area’s status as a byway for travelers allowed the Plague to spread across both continents via medieval merchants who unknowingly carried infested vermin along with them.

This gentleman with his festive Kalpak (felt hat) seemed very distinguished.

Early Sunday morning we found parking near the Animal Market in Karakol and were instantly enveloped by the smelly clatter and clamor of just about every saleable sheep, camel, horse, cow and donkey within 50km. Hundreds of horses, sheep and cattle, along with their owners and related vendors of ropes, saddles, and farming tools—and food— were spread out over several acres. There were some beautiful horses that reminded me of a good American Quarter Horse. The cows and bulls were not happy after their journey from outlying villages. The fat-tail sheep were mindless and uniquely humorous. Not often seen in the west, fat-tail sheep breeds comprise approximately 25% of the world’s sheep population. Their fatty tails are considered a delicacy, often preferred over leaner meat and their wool is supposedly the best for carpet weaving.

This local Kyrgyz was patiently waiting for someone to buy one of his fat tail sheep.

Testing horses was popular with potential buyers, and there was a while-you-wait farrier in one corner who made quick work replacing the shoes on customers’ rides. He used a unique system of lifting straps to stabilize the horse. It’s hard to kick when only three of the horse’s feet are just barely touching the ground and the fourth is tied to a post.

It was an exotic and exhilarating environment, a symphony of sounds and smells that make these Central Asian bazaars such a joy to visit. It was all exciting, but unless you’re looking for a horse or a fat-tail sheep, well, we had seen it in a few hours. The friendly locals were as interesting as the animals.

We couldn’t forget that the Magic Girl of the Pamirs was ready to explore the world with us.

Back in the town of Karakol, the local produce market was a good place to resupply.

By evening we were headed back to one of our favorite beach camps to munch on smoked trout and watch the sunset. Not far from our minds was the “Magic Girl of the Pamirs”. How could we help this young girl to get the education she so obviously wanted? There was a very prestigious private school in Khorog, the Aga Khan Lycée. Khorog was three hours from her village over a road that can be closed by rock falls or snow. Where would she live? She would need new clothes for a “city life”. She would need a cell phone, a computer & printer, none of which she had ever owned. Could she even pass the entrance test? In her local school she had had little math and no Russian nor English. We had an idea, and a dream, and we all know about the power of dreams!

Leaving our scenic camp on Lake Karakul, Tajikistan, we climbed up to the Kyzyl-Art pass at 4,336 meters, (14,226 feet) and crossed into Kyrgyzstan. This friendly country did not require a visa for Swiss nor American citizens, so after a quick look at our camper and a stamp in our passports, we were on the road. By comparison to the countries we had been driving through for the past few months, (Georgia, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan), the paved highway to Osh was super. OK, there were a few rock-falls. No big deal. Somewhere near the top of Taldyk Pass, 3,615 meters, (11,860 feet), we stopped to help a Dutch couple who were trying to fix a broken fan belt with duct tape. It was not going to work. About that time a guy came on horseback and insisted that Monika take a short ride. It was snowing (July 30!) so she didn’t get far, but it was a beginning for what we came to realize: Kyrgyzstan is a horse country!

These two friends insisted to have their picture taken and of course, they wanted to see it in the camera.

Remember, we were following the Silk Road, and aside from silk, gemstones, pottery, and spices, one of the important things that was traded along this historic route were horses. Kyrgyzstan horses were famous and probably led to the successful conquests made by Genghis Khan.

Were these the descendants of the famed ‘celestial horses’ sought after by the Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty (July 30, 157 BC – March 29, 87 BC) in order to reinforce the Chinese army against northern nomadic tribes? Was this the horse breed in the Ferghana valley southwest of today’s Kyrgyzstan and southeast of today’s Uzbekistan, a horse known for sweating blood? Well, that could have been a phenomenon caused by a regional parasite, or, a better story, as Marco Polo told it, Genghis Khan’s warriors often had to ride for days without stopping. On such occasions, the rider would cut the horse’s veins and drink the blood that spurted out. Marco Polo reported, perhaps with some exaggeration, that a horseman could, by nourishing himself on his horse’s blood, “ride quite ten-day marches” without eating any cooked food and without lighting a fire.” Because their milk offered additional sustenance during extended military campaigns, a cavalryman usually preferred a few mares among his mounts. The milk was often fermented to produce kumiss, a potent alcoholic drink liberally consumed by the Mongols. In short, as one commander stated, “If the horse dies, I die; if it lives, I survive.” Well, after a good shot of kumiss or vodka.

I needed a hat so one of the boys loaned me his Ak Kalpak.

As we headed downhill, a manner of speaking, a road sign announced Kyrgyzstan with an elevation of 3,550 meters, (11,646 feet), reminding us that the average elevation of this country is 2,750 meters, (9,022 feet) with the Jengish Chokusu peak towering at 7,439 meters, (24,406 feet). The mountains in the distance said it all. Homes were a mix of yurts and Russian style block houses. Kids waved to us as we passed. Horses on the highway were more of a danger than the herds of fat-tail sheep.

We stopped for the night near a small village and were quickly surrounded by friendly boys, all excited about the strange truck. We had to give them a peek inside. One young boy insisted I needed a hat and loaned me his Ak Kalpak.

One of the things the area is famous for, aside from apricots, are their melons, and roadside stands offer more than we could eat. Crossing the wide valleys gave spectacular campsites. The only foreigners we met on this section were a couple of brave Germans on well-equipped road bikes doing the Silk Road the hard way.

This friendly melon vendor was happy to pose for a picture.

Arriving in Osh there was the usual turmoil of city traffic. Following our trusted GPS and a tip from road friends, we headed toward a bridge that would take us through town. To our shock, and no doubt to others, the road narrowed and led us right into the backside of the local market. By the time we realized that we were driving into a can of worms, it was too late to turn around. Backing up would be a disaster. People were scrambling to get their awnings out of our way and helping us inch through the maze of fruit and hardware stands. Well, it could have been a great video, but as is often the case, we had no time to take pictures. Monika was walking ahead to clear the “land mines” and lift overhead ropes. Oh, and the bridge? It was closed to traffic.

Since Gary had owned a burro when he lived in Mexico as a young boy, he always has a soft spot for these work animals of the world.

Osh is the second largest city in Kyrgyzstan, located in the Ferghana Valley. It is the oldest city in the country (estimated to be more than 3,000 years old). We could have come straight across from Uzbekistan, 5 km away, and bypassed Tajikistan, but that was out of the question. Osh is known for having one of the largest and most crowded outdoor market in Central Asia. It was a major stopping point along the Silk Road and has been named the Great Silk Road Bazar in reference to its historical importance.

No doubt we could have spent days wandering through the Osh bazar, but the clock was ticking. It was the end of July and we had to cross the border into China on August 28—etched in stone. We sped north on good roads toward Bishkek where we found safe but noisy overnight parking at the Togolok Moldo Park. It was close to shops where we could buy a sim card for our cell phone and have the passport photos made that were required for our Chinese visa. (A special size of course. This was China.) We had learned of a can-do visa specialist who assured us a Chinese visa was not a problem. What a relief!! Local busses made it easy to reach another amazing market, interestingly also called the Osh Bazar.

Very fresh chicken and even fresher lamb.

Like all of these sprawling markets, it was a spectacular place to see the local life and culture while shopping for everything from fruit, vegetables, clothing, carpets, cleaning products, bread, flour, seeds, meat, hardware. It didn’t take long to restock our pantry, including some fresh chicken and lamb. We even found a while-you-wait seamstress that sewed a cover for the pad on our third seat which we needed in our truck for our Chinese guide and a sidewalk shoe repair man who was happy to alter the seat belt strap we needed. Monika had fun selecting some silk scarves, unique because wool designs were worked into them. Gary had to buy a coffee cup with a map of the Silk Road on it.

Business taken care of, our Chinese visa would take several days to process, so we headed west to camp on the beautiful Ysyk-Köl lake and to attend the famous Sunday Animal Market in Karakol, the second largest in Central and Western Asia.