Monday 1st July

Wake up smiling.
Morning frogs. Look out of rooftent, can’t believe where we are. Kyrgyzstan. Up early before it gets too hot. So looking forward to a cup of coffee, last one was in Tehran. I grind some beans. Kettle leaking from every joint. Muesli and yoghurt. Notice two moths have spent the night on my chair. Go into trees with shovel for morning ablutions. Frog watches Tim. Shower in a box, except Tim and Atle who know there is water on the awnings, but can’t get out of the way in time. Hilarious. Calves graze around us. I take neck scarves to river, so I can get a sneaky paddle. Freezing water trickles down back.

We take pizza pieces out of freezer. The plan is to stop for a proper picnic lunch, wrap the pizza in tinfoil, and put on manifold, as microwaves are not working. I also have said if we don’t start the water melon today, it is not going back in our car. So there. Two cyclists go past, shout hi. Awesome. Very few vehicles. Tractor towing a car. Every one waves.

Large eagle flaps down from pylon, soars overhead waiting for us to go, eat our scraps. There is only a piece of dried bread. When walking, you smell crushed herbs. Back on the road. Wonder if we can go over that tiny pass? Only 22km to Kazarman. Three bikers come down off a track. Wave and wobble. They spoke to Atle and Hilde. Dutch. Hired bikes in Biskek, and touring for three weeks. Going to try long lens on camera today, and take pics in sport mode. Worth a try.

Spot a Great Grey Shrike. Bird book falling apart, it has Claire Riley written in very young handwriting with a long tail on the y. Fly Catcher with its mouth full of insects. My handbag had a tear on the bottom. Statue wrapped in plastic. Spectral. A lot of old Audis.

Get to Kazarman, look for fresh bread. Woman in shop spoke good English, said they are getting more tourists. See a woman carrying eggs. None for sale. They all keep chickens. We will have to look in a bigger town, or at a market. Saw a discarded water melon skin. Fruit scooped out of two halves. May try it that way. Bread smells lovely in warm car. Must try not to wave like the Queen. Man flags us down for a lift. Sorry.

Scythes and stooks. Lorry with the biggest afro of grass, people sitting on top. Climbing again. Sunny, but cool air. Perfect driving weather. Ask a local about the tiny road. It is closed. What a shame. Head to Naryn. Discover three large mossie bites on shoulder. They must have snuck into tent. Esme, this road is like going over a cattle grid. What do I have to hold onto? Horse unperturbed by bird on its rump. I must say, the foam which Atle gave us to cushion the bonnet, really cuts down the noise.

Leaving the grasslands. Becoming drier. Fancy a cup of tea with my lunch. Het the pocket rocket out. Will have to use a pan, on account of leaking kettle. Eating our own dust now. Surprised Atle isn’t taking the short cuts, for those who want to go faster. Huge plateau, with dozens of gers and thousands of animals.
Come down and have a proper picnic. Blankets spread on lemon sage, boiling water for tea and pizza heated on bonnet. Could do with a nap in the sun. Biggest bee ever lands on my shoe. Shoo. One large orange condor lorry passes in the hour we are there. Nothing else. Tim and Atle try to sort out a few more rattles, and let air out of the tyres. Still 117km to Naryn. Striations on cliffs run at 45 degree angle. Large irrigation trough feeds into stream. There is nothing written about this drive on any blog we have read, except Hilde’s.

Level plain. Tim and I have two more days of anti malaria tablets. Hopefully then the unpleasant side effects will cease. Two geese fly up from a sheltered pond. Fleeces hung out to dry. Amazing edifices in cemetery, big mounds of earth. Wooden telegraph poles, wires dangling. Where will the birds sit? Haven’t seen another Landy since Iran. Black kites soaring. Hoopoe.

At Naryn we pass the University of Central Asia. Mini buses picking up students. Dad waiting in a car. Something happened here in 1996, a blue plaque said so. Trolley buses. Large shady picnic areas. A veritable metropolis.

Climb again, between red sand stone cliffs. Road sign declares ” you can hear 1,000 times more, but it’s always better to see you”. A huddle of shepherds’ huts. 5.30pm first large lorries of the day. Follow the course of a stream. Dozens of gers along the bank. Some seemed to be selling drinks and honey. Busy road. Oncoming cars flashing, police speed trap. Enter a Nature Reserve. Sign said Fourty Yurt Rest Area. Cooler in the valley. Men in high viz jackets throwing dirt into potholes.

So refreshing to be driving in a country without road check points. Looking back, Turkmenistan was so repressive. – silly slow speeds and police blocks every few kms. Things have gradually improved as we have travelled through the Stans. To be fair, KYR has no borders with Afghanistan or Pakistan. Early evening sun dazzles. We climb to 3,030 m. A sign wishes us “Good Away”. Mountains look as if they are covered in green velvet. Dust makes me sneeze.

Road all gouged up. Road signs all hand painted. So cute, little fat workmen. Do they paint over them when the job is finished? Hare stock still under a tree. Roadworks go on for ages. Little villages set up for them. All returning for evening meal, stoves smoking. Look for a bush toilet, find one behind a tree.

We are heading to Lake Ysyk – Kol. Thought we would take northern shore, but after reading up about it Tim suggested the southern route. The Russians took over the north, and built a lot of resorts. The lower shore is more wild, and there are campsites. They are probably upgrading this road as it is becoming more of a tourist attraction. Let’s hope we get to swim.

Stop in Bolsevik so Hilde and Atle can get crisps. Fantastic health food shop, stocked with whole grain rice, pasta, noodle, nuts. We bought fresh eggs and peanuts. Little cafes set up in old containers. Kid with the coolest cap on. Cow just walked across the garage forecourt. Broken down car with an actual warning triangle. New road continues to north shore, we bump along old road. No one else is here.

The lake looks like the sea, it’s. huge. It doesn’t freeze in winter because of its depth and slight salinity. Bus stop built in shape of yurt. Hildefender startles dozens of little birds out of a bush, thought they were leaves.The campsite comprises – the beach. There is a man in front of a yurt, a few kayaks for hire and a rubbish bin. We set up camp in the dark and are the only people here. How many flies and mossies have you ever seen in your whole life? Now multiply by a million, and then some. We cover up vulnerable body parts and apply lashings of eco – friendly spray. We eat fresh tomato sauce, pasta and pesto. They eat noodles. The night sky is full of stars. We recognise the Plough. Early night. Climb into tent in dark, keep the little beasties out. Night night frogs.