We woke to the noise of swelling waves, and the far-reaching waters of Lake Issyk Kul reflecting the morning sun. Peaks rising over 4,000m (13,123ft) form the backdrop for this beautiful lake, and we sat on the sandy shore of the water looking up at them, our eyes fixed on the southeast mountain range. There, deep in the heart of the Tian Shan, the mighty River Naryn begins. Our goal was simple – to travel from east to west Kyrgyzstan, along this vast aorta with a paddle in hand.
Issyk Kul is one of the biggest salt mountain lakes in the world.
The plan was to kayak down the River Naryn, from our starting point near Issyk Kul in the Tian Shan mountains to Lake Toktogul. It would take around 10 days in total - a group mission for an intrepid bunch of kayakers. We would be sleeping under the stars (and mosquito nets) and experiencing local hospitality across mountains and desert, in one of the most remote regions in the world.
Issyk Kul is one of the biggest salt mountain lakes (and the eighth-deepest lake) in the world. After our morning bakvit (buckwheat) and eggs ritual, and a quick swim in the fairytale lake, we loaded our stuff onto a trailer and were ready to go. The only things that I put in the car were my camera and my down jacket. What lay ahead was a mountain pass 4,000m above sea level, which we were going to climb up to in our 40-year-old, 4x4 Delica from 1985 - to find a good spot to start our descent of the Naryn.
After bouncing along semi-tarmac roads for a while, we reached the southern shores of Issyk Kul and after the first 1,000m (3,280ft), we stopped for lunch besides an enormous rock, into which the face of the cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, the first man to journey into outer space, had been carved.
It felt like we were getting a little bit of everything that the country had to offer.
This place looked like a postcard. Locals riding horses, a mountain creek and magical waterfalls surrounding us. It was also the first time in my life that I had a meal in a yurt camp. We sat with the whole team on carpets, while off-road aunties (middle-aged women, carrying an unfathomable amount of supplies) ran up and down near-vertical hill with loaded plates. It truly felt like an expedition.
It felt like we were getting a little bit of everything that the country had to offer.
From here we climbed steadily up into the mountains, grateful that whilst the landscape changed, there was always a reliable pot of tea to be had over the campfire on the river bank. Slightly light-headed, and feeling strongly moved by the epic views, we could really feel the altitude. The mountain massif of the Tian Shan, with tiny nomad villages spread around the hills, is one of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen. Sheer, dark rock cut the sky, above where it rose from the mossy green foothills. But there was no time to mess around. We left the last signs of civilisation, and were approaching the stage of the journey where it was time to descend to the source of our river.
As we rattled toward the riverbed in our 4x4, hundreds of marmots ran and played by the road. Nomads rode their horses around us, and often stopped us, wanting to take pictures or chat. It was a bizarre sight to behold. Horses ran over these remote mountainscapes and the place had the feel of something from a Jack London book - and then one of the herders would come to me with his iPhone 15 Pro and ask for a selfie. The funny part is that there is no reception here and therefore no real reason to have a phone. But Western influence, it seemed, has reached even these remote places hidden deep in the heart of Central Asia.
After camping overnight by the river it was time to begin our expedition. We loaded our kayaks with supplies for the next three days, said our final goodbyes to our drivers and then headed down the canyon. It was difficult to focus on paddling rapids while pristine nature was all around. One moment I was watching a badger running along the river shore and huge birds of prey dancing in the sky, and the next second I was looking at a stretch of frothy white water. It was beautiful and full-on paddling.
We exchanged a few chocolate bars for a horse-riding experience. What a feeling to sit on the back of a horse in the land of nomads.
On the second evening, we reached a small farm. It was quite a show to see locals transporting herds across this big, fast-flowing glacial river. We exchanged a few chocolate bars for a horse-riding experience. What a feeling to sit on the back of a horse in the land of nomads. I was initially anxious, but the animal I rode was clever. It felt like it had brakes, gas, and steering.
The last gorge we paddled down on this multi-day trip was a proper kayaking mission, and it was a beautiful surprise; a Canadian-style canyon which opened up and spat us out straight into the desert of Great Middle Asia. As we left the river, another yurt camp welcomed us with lamb soup and freshly-baked bread.
I lay down in my hammock by the river and opened a local beer called Mine (Šachta). We had time to rest before heading southwest, where we would paddle the Great Canyon of the River Naryn. For the first time, I really struggled to sleep as I was attacked by mosquitoes, but waking up in this moonscape or Marsscape felt unreal. Red cliffs, desert, and massive vertical walls. 42 miles (68km) of paddling in one day, and memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
Driving south-east through Kyrgysztan towards the Naryn canyon brought a sneak peek into true local culture. Seeing the way that priorities were ordered in society there was a stark reminder that we weren’t at home. It’s hard to imagine living in a house made of clay, falling apart, without running water — yet building and maintaining a family tomb of the same size with much more beautiful architecture. We stopped a couple of times by village wells. It’s tough to see elderly people struggling with heavy canisters full of water. On the other hand, it’s a lovely meeting point for everyone. The Kyrgyz people move through life with a smile.
We spent two weeks in this country of many faces — from luxurious cocktail bars to nights under millions of stars in the dust, and some of the finest waterways in the country. Travelling in Kyrgyzstan gives you an understanding of how rich our Western world is in some ways, and how poor it is in others.
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