"Yurts, Powder, and Global Perspectives: A Jalpak Tash Journey through Kyrgyzstan's Snow-Covered Peaks"
My second trip to Kyrgyzstan began with an entirely new set of emotions from the previous. My excitement about the unknowns was replaced by excitement for the knowns. The chance to see friends again, both local Kyrgyz and fellow guides from other parts of the world. To be back at Jalpak Tash and living full time out of traditional yurts. And to ride some of my favorite lines, and the possibility of riding some which had eluded us last year. Mixed in was also apprehension. Not from the uncertainty, like before, but from the preconceived notions of what this season might, or might not hold for us.
Somehow, after only doing this once prior, it all seemed so familiar. The long journey to the other side of the world felt like returning to an old haunt. There was a certain type of freedom in knowing what to expect, but also knowing what I wanted from the trip. Such as a stop at the elaborate and seemingly out of place World Nomad Games Arena. Or knowing what to expect for food at the traditional roadside stop during the journey from Bishkek, the capital city, to Karakol, the Wild West town that serves as the jumping off point for all of our trips.
I find it an interesting experience to travel to a country which has served as a “mixing pot” for thousands of years. Over the millennia Kyrgyzstan has been ruled by Persians, Mongols, Chinese, and Russians. These various influences are readily apparent in locals’ appearance, the architecture and infrastructure, vehicles, food, and religious practices. I find myself wondering what the United States might look like after a few more centuries of mixing.
A long and somewhat disorienting day of travel finds us at the guest house in Karakol, run by one of the two local families we partner with to make these trips happen. Without their support and knowledge these trips would be astronomically more challenging. We eagerly repack our bags for the journey into the mountains and succumb to exhaustion.
Day 2 in country finds us loading several weeks’ worth of gear into the infamous UAZ, the soviet era 4-wheel drive van, part jeep, part Vanagon. Excitement builds as the 40 Tribes zone comes into view and we approach the tiny village at the base the mountains to reunite with Nurbek, our camp chef, and Kas, our hut keeper and tail guide. Big hugs are shared and our bags are quickly whisked away on horse-back for the 4-mile approach to our yurt Shangri La.
The next few days are spent putting the final touches on camp, breaking in the skin tracks that act as our major arteries to the peaks, digging pits to get a feel for the snow, and of course skiing and snowboarding. Because, after all, that is what we are here to do!
Our first group arrives with good weather, sunny days, and a strong thirst for powder! We are happy to share that, while still a shallow snowpack, we have more snow than last season. Which makes for some beautiful turns and manageable avalanche conditions, allowing us to head almost immediately into the alpine. As always, we are dealing with our self-described avalanche problem, facetlanches. Cold and relatively dry weather develops an unconsolidated snowpack, which makes Kyrgyzstan a classic ski destination, but also comes with its own challenges. The faceted snow does not adhere well to steep terrain and can often be triggered by a skier or rider, but luckily these avalanches tend to be small, predictable, and incredibly slow moving. Which allows us to confidently navigate the large, alpine terrain.
Full days of powder skiing are followed by sunny apres on the yurt platforms, a feast cooked up by Nurbek for dinner, and a game or two of Yahtzee, which generally involves a couple shots of Russian Vodka. By about 8 O’Clock, everyone is ready for bed and we sink into our comfy floor beds for a long night of yurt dreams.
Living in a yurt for a week, or three, is an intimate setting. Everyone becomes familiar with each other’s habits and quirks. And it also provides for a unique opportunity to share ideas with people from around the globe. No one ends up in a yurt, in the middle of nowhere, in Kyrgyzstan, to go skiing, by accident. Everyone has unique stories, backgrounds, and tales from previous world sojourns. Life stories that all lead us to this one place in time, together. This is one of my favorite aspects of these trips. This time around I am particularly interested in Kas, the local ski guide’s take on Russia, Ukraine, and Russian’s fleeing conscription to Kyrgyzstan. It’s a complicated affair, but he doesn’t really understand the refugee’s side. In short, there are over 1 Million Russians who have fled to Kyrgyzstan to avoid fighting in the war with Ukraine. I don’t know how many have fled to other countries globally. His view is if the million in Kyrgyzstan united and marched against the Kremlin, that would be enough to oust Putin and end the conflict. An interesting point for sure, and it leaves me wondering what I would do if I were in their position? Kas says “You can have a rich country and a powerful government, or you can have freedom”. The Kyrgyz are choosing freedom.
We begin to settle into a routine. Coffee at 7, breakfast at 8, off and touring by 9:30, no alpine starts at Jalpak Tash. The days begin to bleed together in a whirlwind of powder, Yahtzee, and Vodka. Several storms move through the region changing the snowpack and avalanche conditions and, on some days, obscuring the peaks. We are able to ride in the alpine most days, but other days we take shelter in the trees and enjoy a different side of the Tian Shan. Each week is capped with a massive bonfire overlooking the Issyk Kul Valley and the distant Kungoy Ala-Too Mountains, forming the border with Kazakhstan.
Each week brings something new. A new group of guests, new weather, new opportunities to ride different lines. The yurts are beautifully situated at tree line with access to multiple peaks and ridgelines, allowing one to always feel the power of these mountains. After several hours of skinning and boot packing one can reach the summit of, what by many standards are large mountains, only to gaze to the East and see peaks looming thousands of feet above. It is quite surreal and an indescribable beauty. And then we ski 2,000 feet of powder back down to the yurts. A euphoric experience all on its own.
Over the three weeks I was there I shared yurt time, meals, and turns with fellow Americans, Canadians, Kyrgyz, Brits, Scotts, French, Australians, Kiwis, and Mexicans; continuing to mix the pot of cultures and world views. During our tenure the mountains and weather allowed us to summit the peaks many times and we were able to ski some of the classic and crown lines of the zone. Other days the mountains left us wanting more and dreaming of the lines we weren’t able to ski.
And so, we wait for another year.
