Silk Road Mountain Race - Day 13

August 24, 2023

Koshoy to Shabdan Batyr Bridge - 54 Miles

Start 7:19 a.m. Finish 9:29 p.m.

Total Duration 14:10

Moving Time 7:56

Stopped Time 6:14

Ascent 6,761'

Descent 7,237'

Slept at 4,610' elevation (tent)

Race Total 1,087 Miles

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/132558477

https://srmr2023.maprogress.com

I slept well last night in the Shamshy River Valley outside of Koshoy. The gurgle and swish of the nearby stream was soothing. There was a nearby farm where earlier I had heard dogs barking, but they didn't bother me during the night. It was warm, and I slept in my underwear inside my silk liner. I used my sleeping bag as a blanket. I woke up with the sunlight and began the morning routine. I dropped my last remaining electrolyte tablet into my insulated water bottle. Last night I had used my final wet wipe.

It was a warm 73°F when I got up, and I started in just my bib and jersey. I took my time packing, which resulted in a late start. I was drained, and my left knee was still sore from when I'd been tackled. I couldn't kneel or put pressure on it, which was an issue when getting in or out of the tent. At this point, I figured much of the field had finished the race. In fact, forty-seven racers including Dylan, Sara, and Jono were now in Cholpon Ata. Today was Thursday and the race would be ending Saturday night at midnight. Gautier (cap 213A France) and Romain (cap 213B France) passed me out on the road as I was packing.

The easiest and fastest way to Cholpon Ata would have been to follow the Shamshy River downstream to the Chüy and then take a right on ЭМ-11. I could ride that to Lake Issyk Kul and be at the finish in a few hours. But no. The course demanded heading back up into the mountains for three bonus climbs and then another monster climb, Kok-Ayrik Pass. My plan was to break the final section into two parts. Today I'd accomplish the three extra climbs and ride to the base of the pass. Tomorrow I'd tackle the summit and finish the race. I had two liters of water and wasn't concerned about provisions. I would most likely pass a resupply.

I crossed the bridge and took my time climbing out of the valley on gravel Toktosunova Street. At the top of the hill I took a right on chunky asphalt M-034 heading south, back towards the massive range and away from the expansive Chüy Valley. I was following the Shamshy River upstream, and was riding to the right of the valley. Rows of corn were thriving in a field near the river. Trees lined the left side of the road and water was flowing through irrigation ditches. Men were out corralling their cattle in a nearby pasture. It was partly cloudy where I was, and gray in the mountains.

I still had service and heard from my friend Fernando back in Brooklyn. He had sent a photo of his daughter holding a sign that read, "Go Rob!". I had also heard from Tom, who claimed he had made it to Secret Oasis. I was planning to have lunch there. I later noticed that he had exaggerated his position.

At 7:58 a.m. I rode underneath the steel welcome gate to Chon-Djar. There was a tunduk and Kygyz flag flying at the crest. Trees and bushes continued to flank the road, as the valley narrowed. To either side were large hills carpeted with brown grass. I enjoyed the pink wildflowers flourishing along the shoulder.

The chunky asphalt ended and I was once again on gravel. I was then met with a large herd of cattle being driven towards me on the narrow track. I had to pull over to let them pass. One of the young guys gave me a peace sign and the other man waved. At 8:23 a.m. I passed a turn-off for the hamlet of Karagul. As I got closer to the mountains I was met with a headwind.

At 8:54 a.m. M-034 swerved right to cross the river, and I instinctively followed. My Wahoo started chirping and I quickly realized that I had erred. The course continued straight on an unnamed gravel track to the east of the river. Across the stream on the main road was a large farm with corn fields and agricultural buildings.

A little while later I came to a junction with a path that forked left. I mistakenly took it, only to quickly realize my folly. I continued following to the left of the river. I crossed over a small tributary and a tiny valley branched up into the hillside from the Shamshy. There was a farm building and planted fields. I was beginning to climb, and the terrain was becoming more desolate. I was surrounded by sparse yellow grass as I crossed several more dried-up feeder streams.

The gusty headwind was beginning to roar and I could no longer hear my music. The road was chunky and filled with rocks the size of baby heads. I could only ride in the tire tracks and had to leave the road when a open-back truck passed me going in the other direction. Two men were standing in the back getting a lift into town. It then got really bumpy and I couldn’t find a smooth path. My poor hands were taking another beating. The sun was making an effort to shine through the scattered clouds.

I kept climbing. At 9:30 a.m. I rode through the middle of a cluster of farm buildings. The dirt path forked here, and I continued straight. The path then turned a sharp left and away from the river. The first bonus climb had begun. It quickly got steep and I had to dismount to hike-a-bike. Whenever I’m hauling my bike up a hill, my Wahoo starts chirping and the display indicates that the ride has been 'Auto Paused'. It's frustrating because I exert considerably more effort when I'm pushing.

The single-track ascent followed alongside a groove in the hillside that had been carved by a small dried-up stream. Green grass and scrub flourished in the ravine. I next came to an elongated building ostensibly for livestock. A dwelling was connected on the left, and a small corral stood out front. The house was surrounded by trees and bushes. The steep hill continued and the cow path I was following had greatly diminished. The next rise was extremely steep, and, I incrementally proceeded on foot. The long white building remained in my rear view for almost an hour, as I advanced 380' in elevation while gaining only half a mile.

I came to another livestock structure on a difficult part of the slope. The path then forked and I took the less traveled branch to the right. Here I began a large southeast diversion shaped like an eagle's beak. I would be going fourteen miles out of my way with 2,584' of additional climbing. I would then be returning to a spot only three miles directly to the east of where I currently stood. There was no other route, and this meandering out of the way path was the only way to get there.

The gradient had tempered and I was able to ride again. At 10:30 a.m. I lost control in the dirt and fell to the ground. I couldn’t unclip my feet and my left knee and elbow slammed against the earth. Both extremities had been injured when I was tackled by the truck driver on day seven. The scabs were ripped open and began to bleed. Dirt and grass adhered to the thick, sticky blood. There was no water source to clean my wounds, and I wasn't willing to use my drinking water. I was out of wet-wipes, and it would just have to wait.

The cow path continued as the incline became more severe, and I had to hike-a-bike once more. Over the next three and a half miles I hiked a 2,332' elevation gain with a 14% average grade. The section took almost an hour. I found myself encircled by an expansive, desolate terrain, covered in brown dirt and scattered with scarce patches of yellow and green weeds. At one point I began to notice hordes of small grasshoppers jumping to either side of the path. They had brown backs and red bellies. I alternated between two a hike-a-bike positions; with both hands on the handlebars, or with my left hand on the handlebars and my right hand clutching the rear of the saddle. When it was really steep I would grip the seat post or seat tube. I'm right handed and my bike was always to my right.

At 11:44 a.m., I reached a point on the mountain where I could resume riding. It had been over two hours of grueling hike-a-bike up the steep incline. Fluffy clouds appeared as the trail wound through the barren landscape. I believed I had reached the summit, only to realize it was a deceptive false peak. The punishing steep climb wasn't over, and I had to dismount once again to continue pushing. The sun reemerged and brought a surge of heat, so I donned my arm protectors and applied sunscreen.

I finally crested the 8,038' first bonus climb at 12:55 p.m. I had covered only fourteen miles since this morning, and had ascended a total of 4,200'. I was amidst a vast barren expanse seemingly in the middle of nowhere, yet was met by locals on horseback accompanied by their dogs. The descent unfolded at a leisurely pace, navigating the uneven trail through the winding grass covered hills. I was riding alongside a hill and the incline slanted to my left. I was running low on water and was contemplating the small streams that crossed the path. There were livestock, and I was hesitant to get water from anywhere they'd been grazing. I then lost my balance in a rut and again couldn't unclip. This time I crashed on my right side.

At 1:27 p.m. I came to a small stream that crossed the track. A white shack and small corral were perched above. To the right stood a small cinder block house and a sheet metal clad outhouse. There were a few cows, but no people. In the middle of the rivulet was a hose spouting water. Ostensibly it's source was above the cattle grazing area. There were buckets and jugs in the stream alongside the hose. My water bottles were empty and I'd have to take my chances. I took my time filtering and filling my three bottles. I then cleaned my bloody injuries with the cold water.

The slope remained pitched to the left and a chunky baby head section followed. I hair-pinned left and then swerved right around a bend in the hillside. After a long straight section I came to the tip of the diversion's eagle's beak. Here I made a sharp left and rode down a series of switchbacks into a valley. I arrived at a small stream named Kızıl-Suu, colloquially known as 'Red water'. Here I intersected with a dirt track heading south, tracing the course of the creek. The stream sustained lush vegetation, including green bushes and shrubs, and I noticed a dozen horses grazing near the water.

It was a pleasant, undulating descent while following the natural groove shaped by the stream. I encountered several more farm structures, and the vegetation persisted along the creek to my right. After a while, I traversed the little brook, and found it on my left side.

At 2:27 p.m. I reached a junction where the Kızıl-Suu merged with the Oktorkoy, and together they flowed downstream towards the Chüy. I was three miles to the east of the location where I'd been four hours earlier, and had completed the eagle's beak diversion. I was resuming my journey eastward and beginning bonus climb number two. There was a house and farm structure at the intersection, and I took a right on an unnamed gravel road that followed the Oktorkoy upstream. I crossed the stream to the north and began climbing. I was passing occasional farm structures and noticed that I had a tailwind.

The road meandered upward through the narrow valley and there was vegetation along the stream. I eventually crossed the creek and was met with a steep climb. At the top I intersected with another dirt road. There was a collection of farm buildings with bright blue roofs. The scorching sun persisted, and I found myself in need of a break. At 3 p.m. I stopped to soak my feet. I had only traveled twenty-six miles and was really dragging today. There were trees and fields to the right of the stream.

I continued ascending and at 3:30 p.m. I cut away from the stream. Fifteen minutes later I came to an intersection. The course cut sharply to the left up a steep grass hill on another cow path. I dismounted and began pushing my bike. I was exhausted and uncertain how much further I'd have to exert myself. The daunting ascent seemed to defy both gravity and my physical endurance. It demanded strength and determination. Cattle were grazing nearby, and a man approached on horseback. While I struggled to push my loaded steel frame steed, he effortlessly sauntered past me. It was humbling, as I watched him graciously summit and head over the horizon. It took me twenty minutes to reach the top. There was a small structure where it evened out, and I was met with an endless expanse of dried grass pastures. I had reached the crest of the initial rise.

There were brown ridges to either side of the expanse and a two-track snaked up the gentle incline towards the distant edge. The vast area was filled with cropped yellow grass, scrub, and rocks. In the distance I could see structures, utility poles, and cattle. It was partly cloudy with blue sky. I eventually crossed the dried up Oktorkoy, which had doubled back atop the plateau. I was still climbing, and the small hamlet of Bordunskii could be seen to the north. The dusty dirt track was scattered with cow pies and loose rocks.

At 4:30 p.m. I reached the 7,054' high point. I came to a junction with a dirt road leading from Bordunskii and I continued straight. I then made a sharp left turn and began following a small creek known as the Taldy-Bulak downstream. I descended for two and a half miles with a 1,150' elevation loss. The creek was to my right.

As I descended into the valley, I traversed the stream bed twice, crossing over and then back again. I rode by a farm building and the track elbowed left. Steep hills towered to either side of the narrow snaking valley. Horses grazed near the water amid the surrounding bushes and scrub. A house and blue trailer sat on the hill to the left. The map indicated the presence of a spring at this location. On the stream's opposite bank was a gravel road that was also descending.

At the bottom of the hill I stayed on the road and overshot where I was supposed to have turned. I quickly corrected myself, and crossed the stream. I was now headed southeast on a dirt track that lead away from the valley. This was the last bonus climb. It was another steep path up a series of sharply inclined grass hills. It involved a mile long 1,070' hump that took an hour to hike-a-bike.

I reached the crest at 6 p.m., and was surrounded by an expansive barren landscape. The road continued to snake forward, but far in the distance I spotted a large flat valley below. Fields could be seen laid out in a checkerboard pattern. A mountain range towered to the other side. The terrain I was riding was ambiguous, and I held onto the hope that my route was descending. A vast downward slope began to emerge, unfolding a sweeping view of the distant Chüy River valley. I rode past a farm structure and overshot another turn. The bonus climbs were finally behind me and I felt a sense of accomplishment and relief. I descended 2,717' over a span of ten miles. The sun was beginning to set behind me, and the winding, uneven descent consumed more than an hour.

At the base was a steep switchback leading down to a populated area, where the dirt path joined a gravel road. I knew exactly where I was, and was thrilled. At long last, I felt like the end was within site. Before me was the Chüy River and four lane divided ЭМ-11. I remembered this stretch from when Azema’s father had brought Sarah, Peter, and I to Karakol. I recalled the large advertisements written with white rocks on the hillside alongside the busy freeway. There were familiar brands like CocaCola and Toyota, along with a Kyryz flag drawn with red and yellow stones. I recognized my precise location.

I had researched Secret Oasis in my pre-planning, but hadn't verified any services. I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived. There was a long building that I approached from the rear. In front was a parking lot adjacent to the old two-lane highway M-036. As I made my way around to the facade, I first noticed a small mosque and restroom. Circling around the building I was welcomed with a line of restaurant stalls. Twinkling lights were strung alongside candy-striped awnings. A checker patterned walkway greeted me. Was this a mirage? It was certainly a dream come true. I went to the nearest eatery, HYRIPA, and laid my bike on the ground. I washed my hands at a public sink. There was water heating on a large coal-fired kettle.

I plopped myself down at a table out front. There was a raised platform and the table had short legs. There were padded banquettes to either side, that were covered with ornately printed textiles. The table cloth was plastic.

I ordered two lagman dinners, which included flat bread and vegetable soup. I went to a magazin next door for bottles of sprite, iced tea, and water. I was famished, and gobbled down my meal before I'd remembered to document it. After a quick social media update, I asked my server to charge my phone inside. Secret Oasis was the first real meal I’d had since CP3, and the last I'd have on the race. I was brought watermelon for desert, and I honestly didn't want to leave the place. Motorists were still trickling in from the highway. I watched a family with young children depart. It was beginning to get dark, and I would be camping somewhere.

I filled up my water bottles and made use of the napkins. The woman serving me, commented on my bloody knee and elbow. I wasn't able to finish my last bottle of iced tea, and strapped it to my bike. It was 7:53 p.m. and I had only ridden forty-five miles. I wanted to accumulate more distance before the day concluded. In addition, I needed to leave the busy highway corridor for a place to wild camp.

I pulled away from the Secret Oasis on asphalt M-036. I had a slight headwind and there was a large half moon before me to the southeast. After spending so much time alone on remote desolate cow paths, it felt strange to be sharing a highway with motor traffic. This area stood before the Boom Gorge, a popular whitewater rafting destination on the Chüy River. I passed additional restaurants and fruit stands, and was hailed by eager shop owners who wanted me to stop.

I continued southwest on the two lane highway parallel to the Chüy River and four lane divided ЭМ-11.

The river was sandwiched in between the two roadways, and the only crossing was a mile south on the freeway. To reach ЭМ-11 and get to the other side, I would first need to reach the junction.

It was now dark and I could no longer use my progressive sunglasses. It was an ordeal to look at my Wahoo and phone map. Instead of staying on M-036 to the actual junction, I was directed to a dirt embankment that led to the busy highway. I pulled over at a parking area that doubled as an overlook to verify my navigation.

The course descended a sharp earthen embankment scattered with pebbles and sand. It was steep and rutted, and I quickly lost control of my bike. Despite my braking, the tires skidded on the sand and loose gravel, and I spilled in a narrow crevice. My head slammed into the ground. The earth was hard and abrasive. The jagged gravel sliced into my left knee like a serrated blade. I screamed in agony, as I convulsed in pain. I laid there for a moment, and waited to catch my breath.

My phone, sunglasses, handlebar bag, and iPod had been knocked loose, and it took me awhile to collect myself. Once gathered, I walked my bike down the remaining treacherous slope to the edge of the busy freeway. My knee convulsed with every bend, and I was running on adrenaline. I squeezed a stream from my water bottle and used my fingers to cleanse away the blood, dirt, and debris. It was dark at the edge of the roadway, and I wasn't used to the fast moving motor traffic. I waited for a solid lull before running across all four lanes to the other side.

Even with my blinking red taillight, fear gripped me as I navigated the pitch-dark shoulder alongside the swift flow of motor traffic. My heart was pounding, and I was able to bend my knee and pedal with the fresh wound. I only had to ride the freeway for a quarter mile in order to traverse the river. Immediately after the Chüy Daryyasy Kopүrөөsү bridge I took the first exit towards Chon-Kemin National Park. The off-ramp circled away from the freeway and I felt an instant sense of relief. I was now on two-lane paved M-027 heading east towards the park.

I passed the Chüy River Canyon Observation Point where the Chon-Kemin empties into the Chüy. The confluence is where the Chüy emerges from the Boom Gorge. I could feel the energy of the two raging streams.

I passed a sign warning about avalanches, and then I noticed a large colorful monument resembling a string instrument. I then rode underneath a welcome gate for Chon-Kemin National Park. The park had been established in 1997. I was now following the Chon-Kemin River, and there was a swift surging mint green torrent to my right.

Darkness enveloped the surroundings, and the moon hung low in the sky behind me. The highway was paved, and with my lights I could cover some easy mileage before calling it a day. Motor traffic was sparse, and I had a clear view of approaching headlights, allowing me to promptly move to the side of the road.

After five miles I stopped at a picnic spot adjacent to a small waterfall. Someone had fashioned a faucet from a plastic bottle, where I cleaned my knee with a bar of soap. The ice cold water jolted the fresh wound like an electric shock. I thought about camping here, and surveyed the area with my headlamp. It was too close to the road and I couldn't find a level surface.

Another mile down the highway I spotted a sign for a guesthouse. I exited M-027 and coasted down the driveway to investigate. There were two yurts and it was dark. Dogs started barking, and someone looked out the window. "Guesthouse?", I inquired. "No.", was their reply.

After another mile I came to a turn. The asphalt road continued straight, but the course forked right on gravel. This was disheartening, and meant that the easy riding was over. I took a right and was met with the Shabdan Batyr Bridge. The night sky was a deep black adorned with shimmering stars, and the steel-framed bridge exuded an eerie presence in my headlight. Its name was modestly presented in the center of the span, as if it were a gateway. The deck was wooden planked and had loose pieces of timber with gaps through to the rushing river below. I dismounted and carefully made my way across.

On the other side of the bridge I was welcomed with a pleasant grassy area, and it was a perfect place to camp. The ground was hard and I wasn't able to stake my tent. Every stone I considered turned out to be a dried cow patty. After I had climbed into my tent, a car crossed the bridge. Their headlight beam never struck my tent, and I don't know if they saw me or not. I bandaged my knee before settling into my silk liner and sleeping bag. I hadn't run into another racer the entire day.