Silk Road Mountain Race - Day 9

August 20, 2023

Dzhergetal to Dyudyumel - 84 Miles

Start 4:08 AM Finish 8:16 PM

Total Duration 16:08

Moving Time 11:58

Stopped Time 4:10

Ascent 7,167'

Descent 7,094'

Slept at 6,820' elevation (tent)

Race Total 824 Miles

Details at: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/132672567

https://srmr2023.maprogress.com/

I tossed and turned throughout the night on the living room floor of our generous hosts in Dzhergetal. I was still in pain from my crash the previous night, and I don’t know if I slept or not. The alarm went off at 3:30 AM and it was a mad dash to get out the door.

Quentin, Dries, and I had slept on a large mat that spanned the entire floor. We were surrounded by furniture that had been pushed against the walls. I had chosen the right position and Dries was in the middle besides me. For once I had a real pillow, as opposed to my small inflatable version. My belongings were piled next to me alongside the mat, and on top of the adjoining couch. Our host had brought us an extension cord with a multi-prong adapter, and my devices were plugged in and sitting on a couch near the door.

It was warm inside, and I slept in my underwear. The sleeping mat was thick and the bedding was heavy. My right thigh, left knee, left elbow, and right shoulder writhed in pain. I prefer to sleep on my side, but it was agonizing on my right shoulder. I wasn't used to sleeping next to someone, and felt awkward rolling back-and-forth. It didn't seem like I slept, but I must have.

Last night Quentin had mentioned that we had only covered thirteen percent of the segment's 20,587'' elevation gain, which was discouraging. This morning I was on the road by 4 AM, and it was pitch dark. Once again, I thought I was riding underneath tree cover, but I wasn't. My headlamp beamed from my forehead in addition to my dynamo powered headlight. It was slightly chilly, and I was wearing my bib, short-sleeve jersey, gilet and jacket. The washboards began immediately.

Dzhergetal was in the Ala-Buga River valley and stood at 6706' elevation. Gravel M-074 was in awful condition and the bolts had come loose on my headlight. The light was aiming down at the tire, and I stopped at a bridge crossing to fix it. I leaned my bike against the guardrail and pulled out my Allen wrench set. It was still dark and the Ala-Buga River was twenty feet below. I was careful not to drop anything.

I was now on the north side of the river and riding away from the stream and still heading west. The sun was slowly rising behind me as the course left M-074 to bypass Kosh-Dobo. I didn't figure there were any services open, if there even were any. The course then returned to M-074 and I crossed over a dried-up tributary. The road began following it upstream, and the climb had begun.

Sunrise was at 6:09 AM and soon thereafter we stopped for our first break. Quentin and Dries smoked cigarettes, while I drank water and relished a Snickers. They both used tube hydration systems, and didn't need to stop for water. Fields of golden grass bathed in the morning light against rounded dirt hills. Riding together was technically against the race rules, but without a tracker there was no way I could be seen. I stowed my headlamp and finally straightened my handlebars, which had been crooked since my crash. The man whom we had stayed with last night passed us in his motor vehicle. Tom (cap 105, Australia) was only a mile ahead. It was sunny and mostly clear with a few wispy clouds.

Despite what the course maps had indicated, very little of this road was asphalt. Some of the towns had tarmac in the center but M-074 was mostly gravel, dirt, and rock. It was slow going and rough. I noticed guys driving a herd of horses with help from their dogs. At 8 AM the road cut away from the stream and began climbing out of the valley. I'd ridden eighteen miles. It was 61°F and the road was awful. I noticed a stack of wooden beehives sitting on a parked flatbed in the grass to the side of the road. And then the switchbacks began.

The gravel road was a steep nine percent grade, and I stopped to remove my jacket. The climb involved a series of switchbacks. It was a long climb, on loose gravel and rocks. I would rather have hills than washboards. I summited 9598' Pereval Akkyl at 9:15 AM and we took a celebratory selfie. Dries had gotten there first, followed by Quentin and then me. It had taken five hours to climb 3,234', over a distance of twenty-one miles. It was bright and sunny, and a number of fluffy clouds had materialized.

The descent was a series of steep sinuous switchback, and I followed behind Quentin and Dries. My iPod was low on battery and I tried to charge it on the descent. The second rise had looked like a pimple on the elevation profile, but it was formidable. A third bump then followed. It was sunny and hazy in the next valley. I was anxious to get to Kazarman and sped ahead of the others. I bombed down the steep switchbacks into the next valley. A stream had washed out part of the road and I had to deviate around it. The grass fields here were lush green and I continued the switchbacks down.

At 10:15 AM I passed the Makmal gold mine. The open-pit mine was once the largest gold mine in the Soviet Union, and currently had an output of 1.2 tons per year. I started sharing M-074 with large trucks hauling ore. The large white dump trucks were kicking up huge clouds of fine orange dust, and I had to cover my face with my buff. Despite the truck traffic I was enjoying the nice long descent.

Thirty minutes later I missed a turn and stayed on M-074. The course had exited the road and cut down a series of steep switchbacks into the Kıldoo River valley. By the time I realized I was off-course I had descended several hundred feet and ridden two miles. I could see where the road was taking me, and knew the course would return to M-074, so I kept going. The mining trucks and dust plumes were horrible, but I wasn't going to turn around and climb back up the hill. This happened to me in Mexico when the route cut away from the main highway into Oaxaca. I hate when courses do this. Just get me to the damn town.

I was riding down into a wide valley, and passed the trail where the course reconnected with M-074. I was once again on the course, having missed about two and a half miles of it. If I hadn't lost my tracker I suppose I would have ridden back up the hill. I figured that the six miles while I was lost the other night made up for it. I had been ahead of Quentin and Dries, and realized that we were now separated. I was once again on my own.

I passed the small village of Chetbulak and then the Makmal processing plant. At the bottom of the descent M-074 converged with four-lane highway ЭМ-12 aka the North-South road. I took a right towards Kazarman, and was sharing the road with motor vehicle traffic for the first time in days. I once again had phone service.

I passed a roadside monument honoring Tailak hero and son Osmon Datka. The Soviet era had politicized and sometimes even falsified Kyrgyz history to please communist ideologues and the Russians. The skies were now clear and it was considerably warmer. It was 95°F and I was at 4800', the lowest elevation since Lipenka on day three.

I entered Kazarman, population 11,191 and located on the Naryn River. I exited the North-South road and pedaled into town on ЭМ-13 / M-080 aka Kojalieva Street, which bypassed the town center. Kids ran out into the roadway as I arrived. They were congregated in front of a magazin and I wanted to avoid them so I didn't stop. I rode on ahead and then paused to Google restaurants. I cycled to nearby Makmal Toykana, which was closed. I couldn't find anything, so I rode into the center. It was a bit like a labyrinth getting from one part of town to the other. I located Jeenalieva street, which was the main drag, and found the ❤️ Kazarman sign.

I pedaled up and down the street and couldn’t find a restaurant that was open. Kazarman was a Soviet built city, and street plan radiated out like a fan from Jeenalieva street. There were derelict housing projects and courtyards, and it seemed like a ghetto. As Sofiane later said in his 2023 SRMR film, 'Despite it's cool name, Kazarman is a shit hole'.

I rode back through the maze towards Kojalieva Street. Along the way I found a bakery where I bought a fresh wheel of bread called 'Lepyoshka' or 'Tandyr Nan'. It was fresh out of the oven and was still hot. The baker had stamped an ornate pattern called a 'chekich' in the center of the bread. I rode back to first magazin I'd passed, and purchased two Sultan iced teas. I tore into the bread with my bare hands and relished the cold beverages.

I ran into Neil (cap 79, UK). Last night he'd climbed over Pereval Akkyl pass and then slept up in the hills on on this side. This morning he'd run into Chris (cap 23, South Africa) and, unlike me, he hadn't missed the turn-off diversion. Two nights ago after we'd been lost, Neil also hadn't made it to Beatov.

I wanted to know Quentin's and Dries' location so I looked at the MAProgress app and noticed they were on Jeenalieva street. I rode over to Kafe Kydyrsha Ataback, which earlier I hadn't even realized was a restaurant. The service was poor, and we got the day's last remaining food, consisting of pork dumplings and bread.

Quentin and Dries hadn't missed the turn-off diversion, and said that it had been pleasant. They relished being away from the mining trucks. Down in the valley there had been a waterfall where they had enjoyed a cool refreshing dip. I recharged my devices at a wall outlet and walked next door to a magazin for more iced tea and Snickers. It was wicked hot outside and approaching a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It was going to be a brutal afternoon, and I lathered myself with sun screen and donned my arm protectors. When I returned to the restaurant, Quentin was on the phone with his wife and it seemed like he wanted to be left alone. Dries and I paid the bill and started riding out of town. I didn't see Quentin again until the end of the race.

Kazarman sat at the northwest corner of the segment loop. I was now following the Naryn River heading east. Because the river cut through a narrow gorge, the road swerved north and climbed the ridge. There would be a long ascent out of the valley, several steep up and downs on top of the ridge, and then Kara-Göö pass before descending back to the river. I had climbed 6,421' or thirty-one percent of the total 20,587' on this section.

On the way out of town Dries spotted cannabis growing alongside the road. Before the race my friend Chris had mentioned that it grew wild here. The gravel surface had retuned and the road was lined with trees and cultivated fields. I passed an old Soviet monument with a hammer and sickle. Dries realized that his phone was missing and rode back to the restaurant. It was hot and all of my water bottles were boiling. I stopped in the shade for a moment for a quick sip. Dries eventually caught back up. His phone had been in his backpack all along.

A combine harvester as wide as the road approached from behind, and I pulled over to let him pass. He continued ahead and then turned right into one of the fields. At 4:30 PM I crossed a large bridge over the muddy Naryn River. It was broiling and I fancied a swim. I left the valley heading north and started to climb. There was a slight tailwind. Trees grew along the right side of road and steep rock formations stood to the left. The road meandered up into the hills criss-crossing a small stream. Dries and I stopped to take a break at a small pool in the shade. I sat down in the grass and unfastened my sandals and removed my socks. I soaked my poor battered feet in the cool mountain water.

I was having a hard time keeping up with Dries and he eventually rode ahead on a climb. I didn't see him again until the end of the race. At 6:30 PM I passed a few houses and structures surrounded by green pastures/ Large barren ridges appeared ahead, and shadows were emerging in the terrain. The road left the stream and the next section was steep with a twelve percent grade. Hannah (cap 211B, Switzerland) and Eliot (cap 211A, USA) caught up with me and offered me a Snickers. Then the switchbacks began. I had been wrong about where the summit was. The climb was endless and just kept going.

I finally reached the summit at 7:51 PM. It had been a 2,732' elevation gain over ten miles with a 5.6% average grade. It had taken me two hours and forty-eight minutes to climb. Below in the distance I noticed the small village of Dyudyumel.

The collection of houses was down an embankment and off to the side of ЭМ-13 / M-080. I was exhausted and dehydrated. I rode into the village and asked some kids where I could find a magazin. It was confusing and I had to ask others. I made it to the store minutes before it closed. There was a pleasant young woman working there who spoke English. She mentioned that other racers had also stopped here. I wanted everything, but there really wasn't much. I purchased two bottles of iced tea, a container of orange juice, and a bag of bugle chips.

It was twilight, and outside in front of the magazin were children on miniature donkeys. My refreshments were in plastic bags tied to my handlebars, and knew I wouldn't be going far. I pedaled east out of town while keeping an eye for places to stealth camp. Not far down the road I noticed a power station up on hill. A dirt path led up to it, and I found a level spot where I would be blocked from view.

The sun had quite descended, and I wasn't accustomed to making my camp in daylight. The set-up was perfunctory. There were kids up on the hill nearby who spotted me, and I crossed my fingers they wouldn't tell anyone or return in the night. While crawling into the tent, I stepped on my sunglasses and dislodged one of the temples. Immediate flashes of visibility problems raced through my head. At minimum I could tape the temple back into place. Oakley sunglasses are well made, and I was able to fix it.

I enjoyed being inside my comfy tent and relishing my goodies. My feet were sore, and I smothered them with Pawpaw lotion before going to sleep.