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Why a month in Kyrgyzstan alone on a bike?

Basically I wanted to try biking around a country because I thought that travelling at a slower pace would give me more opportunities to meet people, gain insights, and take a few pictures. Yes, this was my first bike trip (hmm, lets see, Kyrgyzstan, solo - not too bright?). Actually the biking part of everything went pretty well, I did my homework first. Biking was fine, lots of hard work, a few minor breakdowns (punctures, a broken spoke, and some little adjustments), plus pain, fear, joy, loneliness, and satisfaction.

After deciding that I wanted to go somewhere really remote, preferably with mountains, I narrowed my search (constrained by budget) to five time zones within London. That pretty much left Russia (blah), Eastern Europe (not remote enough), Africa (lions + bicycles = meals on wheels), and Central Asia. Ok, I've always wanted to see a yurt, ride a horse across the steppes, and experience nomadic hospitality. 'Stans, 'stans, everywhere a 'stan - which one? If you haven't looked, you'll quickly find out that most all of them are either desert or suck (bureaucracy, mujahideen, visas, etc.), many have both. So, Kyrgyzstan it was.

What Happened?

Well, it was a good trip, but it wasn't much fun. The scenery was ok, but often not very exciting. There were a great deal of arid sections to be covered. The small towns were very bleak. Entertainment usually consisted of me watching fifteen drunk guys who in turn where watching five or six guys (in various levels of inebriation) trying to fix the only truck in the town. When it got dark I would retreat to the safety of whoever I was staying with. As the afternoon would wear on, it was common to be accosted by any number of aggressive drunks. Oh, I also got stoned a few times by kids, had some people try to rob me, etc.

Talking with other cyclists in Kyrgyzstan I found that my experiences were rather typical. Unfortunately, Central Asia is a bleak place full of angst, despondency, and corruption. Many people have little hope for the future. There are few jobs, the school system does not educate (rather it takes bribes), the economies are stagnant or falling, and their leaders are corrupt. Not surprisingly, the effects of this impacted my journey. If you have money in Central Asia, you can buy access to justice, health care, and education. For the most part, the only people with money were foreigners and criminals. The latter took the form of the police, politicians, and biznesmen.

But, just when I was ready to start a letter writing campaign for the nuclear annihilation of Central Asia (yeah, some towns were a real drag trying to dodge the drunks and the dogs), some gracious, caring act of kindness would be extended to me by a stranger. Meals shared by those with nothing to share, a bowl of kumys offered, or a place of honour prepared for me in someone's house, all of these people touched my heart with a love I've rarely seen elsewhere.

What Else?

A few other things happened that aren't here in pictures. After six days on the road my Bible (and my only reading material) disappeared. Major bummer. I think I lost it at a hidden desert campsite. It had seen me through many trips, even salvation in Antarctica, but unfortunately it went. Well, that left even more time for praying (as if I didn't already have all the time on the saddle free!). In that regard, the trip was an amazing gift. The time I had to pray, the answers received, and the journey were well worth the challenges faced on the road. Right now you're may be thinking what, is he nuts? A few years ago I would have agreed, from the outside looking in, Christians can be hard to understand. Don't just stand there, ask a Christian, or read a Bible (hint, try the book of John), your life may never be the same - or you can just throw it all away, your call.

Oh, I also fell while hiking (trying to leap across rocks in a stream), got a concussion and a real nice shiner (felt pretty dumb then). After a day and a half of resting, sleeping and eating I was able to bike out to a road and then fifty some kilometres to the capitol, Bishkek. Eventually, I got it checked out by a missionary doctor that I meet at an expat church, aside from a ten day headache, I was alright. Would I go back? Maybe.