24/07/18, Day 3
No-one was up particularly early, but there were less kids in the room than when we'd gone to sleep. We had a very pleasant breakfast of potato stuffed dumplings while we conversed in a round about way with our host and her friend. The Kyrgyzs hospitality continues to astound us and to be invited so unhesitatingly to stay in ones home, fed and watered, left us feeling deeply humbled. We left with a big bag of apricots from the garden and headed to the river for a much needed wash and a cheeky morning beer.
Next up, the high South.
We started waiting for a mashrooka going that way, but when the offer of a taxi came along at a reasonable price, we took it up and arranged a ride all the way to Daroot Korgon at the Western end of the southern valley, near the border with Tajikistan - a couple of hours drive away.
Up and over the pass, we entered a different world as we dropped down to Saray Tash: a bleak, windswept, frontier town of drab colours and ramshackle buildings. Giant mountains towered above the sparsely vegetated plain. It immediately felt inhospitable. When we stopped for a short break out on the plain, the howling, turbulent wind that swept along the valley floor did nothing to assuage this feeling. What are we doing here we wondered. Is this somewhere we really want to fly?!
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| 7000m mountains just over the border with Tajikistan |
Up ahead, we watched a rider on a donkey detour from the path to where his dog was barking at the cliff edge. Intrigued we strained to see what was happening. The guy was thrusting a large branch into a hole, evidently trying to flush something out while the dog sat patiently beside. A flash of brown and the dog pounced, scuffling around with something in the dust. Just in front of us, the dog appeared on the far side of the river, and released a marmot from its jaws into the cold flow. The marmot crawled onto a rock, baring its teeth, and the dog retreated to the side, placidly looking on. The guy on the donkey carried on down the valley and we began to wonder if the whole episode was just for sport. The dog however, knew exactly what it was doing. After a while, the exhausted marmot, chilled from the river, made a sluggish effort to get away and the dog pounced for the kill, squeezing the life out of it with its jaws before disappearing off to enjoy its kill in privacy. An expert demonstration of efficient hunting.
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| Face off |
The optimistic plan was to fly east over 3 days back to Sary Tash. Unsure if it would be flyable at all however, we were aiming for a takeoff that had the option of a glide down to the valley floor. We found a suitable ridge on the map, and what looked like a nice gradual approach round the back, following a river (and all important water source) and avoiding the steep ascent we'd initially planned.
To add to the general feeling of "what the **** are we doing here!?" we were hiking up the gorge in the afternoon with the wind howling down the gorge into our faces. Not the classic valley breeze system we thought we understood and a baffling (and concerning) one to try and work out.
A group of kids caught us up in the valley, and with barely a word exchanged between us, had a great time taking selfies and film grabs as they walked along besides us. We were definitely novel specimens in this valley.
With a good few kms behind us and the day fading, we left the main gorge and headed up the side system to loop back south towards our target. We climbed up, following the river, but as we came round the corner, we got a great, demoralising slap in the face. An impressive but unwelcome sight confronted us: a high, impassable couloir! There was no way through it, so tired and somewhat demoralised we made camp, squeezing our tents in on the sparse flat ground next to the river.
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| You shall not pass |
Despite the obvious set back to our plans, we were still camped in a beautiful spot, nestled in amongst the steep walls of the surrounding valleys, with a peek of the 5000m rock face overlooking all to the north (the optimistic goal!).
Flying back to Daroot Korgon was out the question. There was one option available however.....Go deeper! It would have been a brave move, but half-entertaining it and wanting to check out the views anyway I set off for a morning jaunt to ascend the ridge behind us to see what was what. A few early wafts disturbed the still morning air as I climbed up and a pair of vultures tentatively tested the first up drafts - a promising sign. Up on the ridge line I had the height to appreciate the lay of the land and was satisfied to see that, yes, I had interpreted the map correctly, and Seb - for all his passion and inability to see it "ANY OTHER WAY" - was in fact, wrong. Which meant there was a way to fly out! Albeit committing and by no means guaranteed to work - but flyable and with some landing options. I let myself get a little excited and bounded back down to camp with the good news. Seb, sensibly enough however, was unswayed by my enthusiasm, and I was by no means disappointed to have an excuse not to give it a go.
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| Pick out the line... |
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| Challenging skies |
Sary Tash was somewhat of a surprise. We encountered the only other tourists we came across (and there was quite a few of them!) - predominantly cyclists tackling the Pamir highway and a few overland vehicles and motorbikes. With the brooding weather, drab light and frontier town feel, it really did paint a bleak (but interesting) picture. We seemed to hang out there for an unnecessary amount of time however, eating biscuits and chatting to an entertaining Irish man, before we embraced our next hike and headed north out of town to camp below a nice ridge line we planned to fly in the morning, sharing our valley and muddy water source with a big herd of yaks.
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| Sary Tash |
It was quite a cold, damp night and we were up early to get flying before the wind got out of hand. Gun shots occasionally reverberated around the valley, and we could see a few folk spread out on the other side of the valley hunting for what could only be marmots. As we approached the base of the ridge, the party had moved to its lower slopes, so not wanting to disturb their hunt we detoured to where one of the guys was waiting with the 4x4. A friendly smile greeted us as we approached, while he signalled to his buddy (a few hundred metres away up the slope) the presence of an unsuspecting marmot between us and the gun. Thankfully there was a bit of an angle between us, the marmot, and the high calibre rifle that seemed a tad over-powered for the poor marmots. The hunter closed in, raised his rifle and BANG! the bullet scudded across the grass, a concerningly close distance down the slope from us and well within range. The marmot looked on unperturbed. The hunter was intent on his target, quickly closed in and raised his rifle for another pop. This time the angle was far from sufficient; Seb and myself darted for the car as the guy fired. The bullet shot past within metres of us, a shard of shrapnel bouncing off the car.
It was 8 am.
The marmot ducked down into its burrow.
We were in the air by 10, decent cycles coming up the slope and occasionally strong gusts coming from somewhere else (?!). Clouds were already building in the mountains to the north. Conditions were good though, if a bit feisty in places, and we had a nice half hour soaring and thermalling along the ridge. It switched in a moment though, and we suddenly found ourselves buffeted by rough, sinky air and we immediately headed out to the open valley floor outside Sary Tash. The picture had most definitely changed. Out in the flats, some booming thermals were popping off from some unrecognised source, and I couldn't help myself climbing in one to get a cracking view of the main valley (although disappointingly the monster peaks were lost in haze). As Seb alternated between big ears and spirals way down below me however, I saw sense and was soon doing the same to escape the climb I'd been mischievously enjoying moments before. It took a while, and a strong, turbulent wind was already in command on the valley floor as I came in to land around 10:40 am. I made my approach, praying not to get dumped in a down cycle. 5m above the ground, I felt the wing drop back..... Awwww sh*t! I came down with a bump but not mercilessly so. It had been an exciting morning.
A big gaggle of kids soon descended upon us and the usual entertainment ensued as they posed in our gear, boxed sleeping bags and attempted to carry our laden packs. Back in Sary Tash we soothed our nerves with copious amounts of chai and an early lunch, then set about to find a ride back north and hopefully less formidable climes! It didn't take long and the mornings adventure was sealed as we made ourselves comfortable on pallets of water bottles in the back of a small truck.
The sky seemed to soften remarkably quickly as we crossed the pass and it was under friendlier skies that we found our way to Tashkoro, just to the south-west of Gulcha where our southern adventure had started.
We knew where we wanted to go, but the route up to the ridge through the dense grass was far from obvious. With people out on the slopes, cutting hay by hand (a torturous labour!) we knew there had to be tracks and paths however which thankfully we managed to locate. Our final leg was a beautiful traverse across the side of the steep ridge and we popped out on the ridge line to a flat grassy plateau, with a perfect south-easterly launch on the other side for the morning!
My flight:
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