Story: From Jailoo to Sunken Pass and Back: A Weekend Adventure in Kyrgyzstan

One Friday after work, my coworkers and I piled into our boss’s van, and were driven eastward to Kara-Koo, a small village on Lake Issyk-Kul’s southern shore. We arrived late and went straight to bed, and awoke bright and early the next morning, setting off without even having breakfast. We drove south from Kara-Koo, and wound our way over the mountains and into the valley below. We drove through several tiny villages, and then began making our way slowly up into the mountains.

Our destination was the jailoo (pronounced jai-low), or the high mountain pastures where the Kyrgyz traditionally spend their summers. Navigating the “road” (more like a vague, rock-strewn path leading up the mountainside) to the jailoo was difficult for the van, and it took us quite a while to reach our destination… but it was definitely worth it. Our boss’s family was waiting for us outside their yurt. Additionally, they had spread a large blanket next to the yurt, and on it was spread a gargantuan picnic, enough to make up for our lack of breakfast.

The day was perfect. Prior to our departure from Bishkek, we had been told to bring warm clothes and rain gear, as it had been cold and rainy all week in the jailoo. However, we were greeted by perfect blue skies and ideal temperatures. From our breakfast blanket, we could look out across the jailoo, dotted with livestock, to the valley below. Beyond the valley, behind a small rise of mountains, we could even see the glistening blue waters of Lake Issyk-Kul. Paradise.

While we were breaking our fast, an elderly couple, distant relatives of our boss who reside nearby, ambled over. The man was 87 and the woman was 78. They both continue to live in the jailoo and care for livestock as they have for all of their lives. They invited us to come with them to watch them milk their horses and prepare kumis, a traditional Kyrgyz beverage made from fermented mare’s milk. They care for a small herd of horses, and had perhaps 20 mares and at least 10 foals. The man would lead a foal to its mother and allow it to nurse briefly. Then, as he led the foal away, the woman would begin milking the mare. They did this with every mare/foal pair, then invited us into their home to sample the kumis. The fresh milk was added to a large barrel of fermenting kumis, then stirred briskly. We were each poured a small bowl of the drink. The milk tasted sour, and had acquired a smoky taste from the barrel. It was good, but difficult for us to drink quickly. Meanwhile, the man had an incredibly large bowl of kumis which he chugged in one gulp.

We returned to our boss’s yurt, and found that horses had been rounded up for our ride. Our boss’s son rode the head stallion of the herd we’d just seen milked, while the rest of us were given horses rented from Kul-Tur, the nearest village in the valley below. I was quite pleased with my horse (although I would’ve much preferred the beautiful and spunky stallion) as he was both energetic and well-behaved.

We rode up a steep valley lining a small stream, zig-zagging back and forth to make the journey easier on the horses. Our destination was Sunken Pass, the way into the next valley to the south. After about three hours, we reached a high point, with an incredible view of the valley. There we dismounted and unpacked a stellar picnic of bread, jam, cheese, sausage, eggs, cookies, candies, bread and more… After gorging ourselves, we had a pleasant nap in the sunshine before saddling back up and continuing to head upwards towards Sunken Pass.

For most of our trek, we hadn’t followed any recognizable path (although occasionally a well-worn track would appear out of the brush only to vanish again); however, as we neared Sunken Pass, the “path” widened to the point that it almost looked like a road! We reached the top of the pass and were stunned by the incredible view that greeted us. We all wished that we had time to continue onwards, instead of returning the way we had come. But, we had to get back. After taking numerous photographs, we hopped back into our saddles and spent four more hours zig-zagging our way down the mountain.

After a delicious dinner, eaten while watching the sun set through the yurt’s door, we quickly made preparations for bed. The men were given a tent, although I got to sleep in the yurt with the other women. The yurt had a stove inside (fueled by wood and dried manure) which meant that even though the temperature dropped rapidly outside once the sun set, we remained warm and cozy all night.

In the morning, the plan had been for us to go hiking; however, this was hampered by two things: we were all incredibly sore from having spent seven hours in the saddle the previous day, and the weather was overcast and chilly. Soon it was time to pack up our things and pile back into the van; we were sad to leave our corner of Kyrgyz paradise. By the time we reached the valley floor, the jailoo was already masked from view by rain.