Silk Road Mountain Race - Day 14

August 25, 2023

Shabdan Batyr Bridge to 42°50'35" N 76°49'44" E - 52 Miles

Start 6:57 a.m. Finish 7:32 p.m.

Total Duration 12:29

Moving Time 8:38

Stopped Time 3:50

Ascent 7,153'

Descent 1,991

Slept at 9,850' elevation (tent)

Race Total 1,139 Miles

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/132558416

https://srmr2023.maprogress.com

I was able to get a decent night's sleep alongside the churning Chon-Kemin River and next to the Shabdan Batyr Bridge. Apart from my lacerated left knee and bleeding knuckle, there was a throbbing pain in my left ribs. I had slept at a slight pitch with my head lower than my body. It was comfortable while reclined, but my ribs stung every time I raised myself.

I rose shortly after sunrise. What had been dark and foreboding last night had turned into a bright sunny morning. The blue sky was clear and filtered with golden light. I found myself in an expansive grass-covered valley. The northern slope was blanketed with barren dirt, and there were bushes and scrub on the hills to the south. Green trees and foliage lined the river. Last night in the dark I had certainly missed some spectacular scenery alongside the turbulent river.

I had camped at 4,610' elevation and the humidity from the frothy river produced a damp coldness. It was chilly when I got up, and there was condensation in my tent. I was unable to kneel, and had to pack my things sitting. For strapping and securing there was nothing to lean my bike against. The leftover iced tea was a welcomed treat.

Despite the deep wound I was able to bend my knee and stroke my pedals. I was eighty-eight miles from the finish line with a ginormous pass in front of me. To reach the summit would involve an eight thousand foot elevation gain. From there it would be downhill to Cholpon Ata. I started in my leg-warmers, gilet, and jacket. My fingertips were cold in my short-finger gloves, but I figured they'd soon warm up.

The course had led to the south side of the river as a gravel alternative to M-027. The Chon-Kemin was now to my left. The stream was a Kyrgyz geographical border between the Chüy and Issyk-Kul regions, and today I would be crossing back and forth. The torrent was mint-colored milky-white from glacier sediment, and it's roar was soothing. I began riding east and straight into the sun. The early morning rays were blinding, and it was difficult to read the chunky gravel road surface.

The valley was fertile and I was riding past irrigated fields, lined with trees and bushes. After a mile I crossed a small creek known as the Ak-Taşkara. Another gravel road joined up with the course, and I passed a farming structure. I came to a fork and took a slight right. Verdant meadows and trees bordered the road. In one of the fields, white plastic scarecrows stood watch.

I crossed a creek called the Tar-Suu and came to junction. I took a right following the rivulet and rode through a small village bearing the same name. Modest houses, wooden fences, and utility poles flanked the chunky dirt road. The morning sky remained clear blue. Beyond to the east of the village, I found myself encircled by cultivated fields. The next community was Kalmak-Ashuu. I took a left and then a right. I was now on a primary asphalt road and still traveling east. Feeling warm, I stopped to take off my jacket and leg-warmers.

The next town was Karool-Dobo, and I passed a welcome sign on my arrival. I stopped at magazin SYÚMYK, but the door was closed. I rang the bell but no one responded. It was still early. A local woman arrived out front, and I asked pointing, "Magazin?". She replied with a smile, "Yes". She persistently pressed the red buzzer and gained access. A woman and her two small children were inside. I purchased five Snickers bars, a bottle of iced tea, a liter of Holiday Limonade, and two rounds of freshly baked bread. I downed the iced-tea and relished the first loaf. I then packed the Snickers, tied the bread bag to my saddle, and strapped the lemonade to my rear rack.

I was enjoying the smooth asphalt surface as I cycled past green fields, houses, and farm buildings. The next village was Kaindy and I was greeted with a blue rectangular welcome gate. I crossed a small dried-up stream called the Shalak-Kayndy. I took a left, then a right, and then another left to cross back over the raging Chon-Kemin River. The course headed straight up the steep embankment to the main road, but I settled for a gentle switchback.

By 9 a.m. I was back on M-027 to the north side of the river. The villages on the south side had been a nice diversion. The main road was now hard-packed dirt, gravel, and rock. The course would be following the river upstream for the next thirty-nine miles, climbing 3,251' elevation. It would then turn to the south to proceed up over Kok-Ayrik Pass.

The valley was productive and the cultivated fields were laid out like a parquet floor. I was riding along an irrigation ditch and passed a dirt road that led up the slope to the north. As I continued east, a strong headwind developed. I crossed a stream known as the Tayız-bulak and encountered a large farming operation with irrigated fields and livestock. I was startled by a snake with black and tan stripes slithering across the road.

The river bent south and the road split away from the stream on a slight rise. I came to an intersection with another dirt road that led north into the barren hills. I then crossed a stream called the Kaska-Su. M-027 descended and reconnected with the Chon-Kemin, and the course resumed east. There were more farm structures and grass pastures along the way. The sunlight was becoming strong, and I stopped to remove my gilet and don my arm protectors. I then crossed a creek called the Chetiny.

At 11:00 a.m. the road diverged from the river once more, ascending over a steep rise. The bump wasn’t as bad as what I'd experienced yesterday, and I was able to ride most of it. I ran into a bike-packer from Russia who mentioned there were three racers a half hour ahead. He had come over Kok-Ayrik Pass and had passed several racers. He told me the pass was badly damaged and much worse than Jukku. He predicted that I’d probably end up crossing it tomorrow. After we parted I came to Jaşhyl-Kel Lake, which was fed by a small stream from the north. There was an SUV parked at the water's edge and a man was standing there fishing. Cows and horses were grazing nearby. The hill reached its peak beyond the lake, and I enjoyed a switchback descent and straight section that led back down to the river.

From here the road meandered alongside the snaking whitewater stream. The incline was steady and adorned with grass and shrubs. Thirty minutes later I crossed an unnamed feeder stream. The hills on the opposite side of the tumultuous river were now covered in thickets of spruce trees. Puffy white clouds had emerged in the sky.

At 11:41 a.m. I stopped to take a drink of my Italian lemonade soda, and noticed that my bread was gone. The plastic bag had torn open on the bumpy road, and I was upset. I was exerting every last ounce of energy, and the rewards were meager. I had really been looking forward to savoring the tasty bread, and cursed myself for not stowing it in a rear pannier. I was genuinely distraught and disheartened. To soothe myself I began stopping for sips of lemonade. The bottle was strapped to my rear rack and I couldn't resist it. Soon it was gone.

I continued to pass remote farming structures alongside the river. I traversed a tributary called the İçke-Suu along with a dirt path that led north. By noon I realized that I had a tail wind, which I appreciated. The road veered north and away from the river as it ascended. I came to a switchback which hair-pinned at a creek crossing. The river was below to my right. I'd climbed 2,634' since this morning and had ridden twenty-seven miles. The valley had narrowed and the slopes to the south remained brimming with green spruce trees. The barren round hills to the north were carpeted with yellow grass and brown dirt.

The road meandered east as puffy silver clouds were beginning to cluster. I noticed two cars parked down by the river, and ostensibly people were fishing. Thirty minutes later I cut up and away from the stream and crossed a rivulet called the Buzulgan-Say. I passed more farm structures and a cow path emerged in the grass to my right. I remained on gravel M-027 through an expansive grassland. There were grasshoppers again today.

I came to a tight passage known as Kok-Oyrok at 1:30 p.m. The road was nestled against the stream with steep slopes to either side. I was now in the upper Chon-Kemin valley. The gradual climbing continuined, and the hills on the opposite bank remained blanketed with spruce. The river had narrowed, and at one point I noticed a dozen horses enjoying the cool turquoise water. I crossed a feeder stream known as the Tash-Kiya. Stream crossings and puddles unnerve me when I'm clipped in, and I wondered how many crossings there had been on this race.

At 2 p.m. I crossed a stream called the Kashkelen and came to a junction with a dirt track. The valley had once again grown wide, and was blanketed with olive-colored grass. Clusters of gray, billowy clouds had gathered to the east, and a distant snow-capped peak was visible to the northeast. Far ahead I could see a steel truss bridge that crossed the milky green river. A gravel road switchbacked up the other side.

M-027 was chunky with tufts of grass and piles of cow manure. The southern slope remained dense with spruce. I rode by a shack with a small corral and large rounded boulders. There were two vans parked in the grass, and a woman was pushing a stroller. The sky was turning dark. I then crossed a tributary called the kek-Bulak.

I descended and crossed the steel truss bridge over the Chon-Kemin to the south side of the river. I had returned to the Issyk-Kul region for good. The road was obstructed ahead by a red and white steel barrier. A woman with a small child stood there anticipating my arrival. I was asked to purchase a 150 Som admission ticket for the Chon-Kemin Natural Park, and was then let through. I wondered if the racers riding at night had been asked to pay. And then a climb began.

The hill zigzagged away from the river and rose a hundred feet at seven percent grade for a quarter mile. After navigating around the bump I descended back down to the river, and continued following it upstream. A large grove of spruce filled the slope to my right. I was surrounded by grass, along with scattered trees, vegetation, and rocks.

I came to a vast two-track section running straight through the grass, and the expanse was sublime. The dirt was smooth and the grass felt like velvet. I needed some nourishment and stopped for refried beans. It was 3 p.m., and I sat on a large round stone admiring my surroundings. I’d travelled forty miles, and was starting to get above the tree-line. There were cows in the distance, and I felt a couple of raindrops. Two open-back trucks hauling sheep passed me going west. I took the opportunity to lube my chain.

After lunch the long flat grass section ended. The course veered sharply to the right, and I began climbing around a large mound. It got chunky and bumpy as I ascended 320' over half a mile. Two sets of switchbacks brought me over a hill, and then I returned to the river. It remained partly cloudy. Looking south, to my right, I admired gently rolling hills covered in grass. Behind loomed an ominous snow-capped mountain range, overshadowed by a brooding dark gray storm system. I spotted an odd-looking marmot tunnel, that resembled perched lips with buck teeth. A clump of violet wild flowers blossomed in front of it. I came to a series of switchbacks which took me up above the river.

The Wahoo CLIMB feature drives me crazy. Whenever I begin an ascent the display switches from navigation to an elevation profile. This can be useful, unless I'm trying to navigate. Invariably the profile disappears and I can’t get it back. I wish that I could control the device, and that it wouldn’t make screen choices for me.

At 3:55 p.m. I crossed a heavy timber log and wooden planked bridge over the whitewater Kindi Suu. The Chon-Kemin was below to my left. I was getting low on water but all of these streams had too much sediment to filter. My Sawyer would clog if I attempted to make drinking water. I paused for a moment and was awed by a ginormous snowcapped range directly to the south. I would be crossing these mountains to Cholpon Ata. The clouds above remained gray. I began another long straight double-track through short-cropped grass. The riding was smooth and it felt incredible to be cruising across the vast expanse. There were a smattering of cows in the distance to my right.

I encountered a ginormous flock of sheep gathered in the center of the track, and they swiftly began dispersing as I approached. Fear became contagious and their flight was chaotic. The road split the herd, and I wanted to avoid get knocked over by a sudden last-second dash. Two men later rode by horseback accompanied by their dogs. The men were carrying short whip-like sticks that resembled slapsticks. I caught the scent of smoke drifting from a wood-burning fire. It was a comforting aroma, distinct from the pervasive smell of livestock.

At 4:34 p.m., my Wahoo displayed the twenty-first and final climb of the segment. This marked the final ascent of the race, covering an 4,462' elevation gain over the next fourteen miles. Vertical bands of of orange and red indicated the steep grades ahead. I had ridden forty-six miles and was currently situated at an elevation of 8,300'.

I continued across the vast expansive, and aside from grass there was very little vegetation. The earth had collapsed at the river's edge creating jagged dirt cliffs. There was a thin layer of sod and topsoil above the white chalky regolith. Azure sky and white puffy clouds hovered above the valley to the east. I crossed a wood planked bridge with wooden post railings over a stream called the Severny Koisuu. Cattle were grazing on the soft velvet hills. Looking south and up into the valley towards the towering range, I observed the transition from smooth verdant grass to jagged gray stone. The weather above the mountains was holding.

I'd been following the Chon-Kemin River since last evening and knew that I'd be steering away from it and turning south. I approached a valley to my right, and could see a road cut midway up the grass slope. Outcrops and large jagged boulders towered above the vegetation-line, and dark lavender clouds loomed overhead. I came to a brook called the Orto-Koy-Suh, and the rushing water was over a foot deep. It was the waterway I would be following up the valley towards the pass. Like the other streams, it was milky from sediments. I stopped to remove my socks to walk my bike across.

At 5:34 p.m. I arrived at the intersection where the course turned right, and I saw a small shack in the distance. A blue open-back truck sat in the grass, alongside a pen full of cattle. A man was walking across the field far ahead. The road I needed was situated halfway up the slope, and I had to climb a steep grass hill to reach it. There was a vague switchback that led up from the field, and I began hike-a-biking. The last part was steep and I had to hoof it in intervals. At the top of the climb I turned around to glance back at the Chon-Kemin River, which was now far below.

At 6 p.m. I began my trek along the dirt road known as the Prokhodnoye Ushchel'ye (passable gorge). Built from 1990 to 1991, the road had originally been created as a link from Almaty Kazakhstan with the beach resort town of Cholpon Ata. After dozens of landslides it now lay in ruins, and was no longer passable to motor vehicles. It was one of the highest roads of the country. I started winding my way up the Orto-Koy-Suh valley towards Kok-Ayrik Pass.

The dirt road was overgrown, and the cut had filled to become rounded. The ten-foot-wide track was scattered with rocks and cow patties. The valley below was narrow with steep slopes. There were dark gray clouds ahead.

I was a mere thirty-eight miles from Cholpon Ata, but numerous hours of hike-a-bike stood in my way. I slowly pushed up the incline as I encountered chunky pieces of granite, like what I had seen on Jukku Pass. I stopped at a large boulder to reapply my socks. My toes were cold and the soles were badly chapped. Livestock could be seen far below in the valley.

It was getting chilly and I stopped to put on my thermal underwear top, gilet, jacket, and leg-warmers. I crossed a small stream and paused to filter water. The bottles wouldn't stay balanced, and kept falling over spilling the contents. It was ridiculous and I had no choice but to be amused.

The track became rocky and I could see jagged rock formations and snow fields up on the ridge ahead. At this point it was clear that I wouldn't be making it over the pass today. I refused to do it in the dark in freezing temperatures. The plan was to find a place to camp before the vegetation line. I'd summit and finish tomorrow. Hopefully it wouldn't get too cold, rain, or snow.

I came to the first switchback at 7 p.m. and proceeded higher. On the next straight section I encountered an emaciated dead calf laying in the middle of the track. Ostensibly it had strayed from the pastures below. The road was too ravaged for cattle to be herded up to this elevation. A yellow tag was still clipped to its ear. It's stomach was collapsed and a large rock sat in the depression. The ground bore a brown stain around the animal's carcass, and it was disturbing.

As I approached the next switchback I became concerned about wind and cold, and decided to conclude my efforts for the day. I had only made it two miles on the road, and still had thirty minutes of sunlight. I looked for a reasonably level spot, and erected my tent in the middle of the track. My bike was leaned against the road cut. I brought all of my warm attire, including rain gear, into my tent, preparing for whatever challenges awaited me in the morning. My tent was staked right up to the edge of the slope. The stream was now far below.

I brought my last bag of refried beans into the tent along with a bottle of water. I had everything that I needed and was comfortable. I'd be nourished and well-rested for tomorrow.