The Lakes and Mountains of Kyrgyzstan
Kyrgyzstan had been sitting on my wish list for years, and finally we made it. Looking like it was named by someone who fell asleep on their keyboard, this small Central Asian nation is still largely unknown in the West.
Over 90% of the country is mountainous, which means one thing: scenery that hits you right between the eyes. Being a sucker for views, I was in heaven.
Formerly part of the Soviet Union, Kyrgyzstan gained independence in 1991.
Unlike its neighbours, it doesn’t have oil or gas wealth, and the economy reflects that. But what it does have is a rich nomadic culture, jaw‑dropping landscapes, and some of the most hospitable people you’ll ever meet.
Historically, the Kyrgyz were nomads living in yurts — circular felt homes that can be dismantled in half an hour and moved by horse to new pastures, known as jailoos.
In remote regions, this lifestyle still survives, though it’s slowly fading as people move to the cities for work.
Tourism is growing, helped by a visa‑free policy for dozens of countries.
Bishkek and a Bear‑Claw Wake‑Up Call
Our journey began with a five‑hour marshrutka ride from Almaty in Kazakhstan to Bishkek, the Kyrgyz capital. Things didn’t start smoothly — a mysterious delay with my passport meant our marshrutka sped off without us.
Luckily, Bishkek was only a 20km taxi ride away.
We spent two nights in the capital and met up with Asan, a local friend we’d hosted through Couchsurfing in London. Asan is fiercely proud of his country and can talk for hours about Kyrgyz history, culture, and the wider region, teaching us a lot.
We stayed on his parents’ living room floor, which came with an unexpected hazard: a giant bear skin mounted on the wall. In the middle of the night, I woke to what I thought was Anya cuddling me — only to discover a bear’s claw brushing my ear. I hardly slept a wink after that.
Lake Issyk‑Kol: Hot Water, Cold Impressions
Leaving our big backpacks with Asan, we packed light and headed east to Lake Issyk‑Kol.
You can drive it in two and a half hours, but we opted for the 06:40 train — double the time, but only 90 British pence. The mountain scenery was dramatic, but I’m not convinced it was the best choice.
Issyk‑Kol means “hot water” because the lake never freezes, even at 1,700m altitude. It’s the second‑highest alpine lake in the world after Titicaca.
We stopped in Tamchy, a dusty village with a beach full of Soviet‑nostalgia vibes, and Karakol, the region’s hiking hub. The scenery was beautiful, but the lake itself didn’t quite blow us away, so we pushed deeper into the country.
Song‑Kol: The Kyrgyzstan We Came For
Song‑Kol sits at 3,000m and is reached by a two‑hour 4×4 track over the mountains. We arranged a ride and a yurt stay — in the most surreal mountain setting.
A vast open plateau. Snow‑capped peaks. Nomadic families tending livestock. Horses, cows, sheep, and the occasional child riding a donkey across the grasslands.
It was everything we’d hoped for.
It was also freezing. We regretted leaving all our warm clothes at Asan’s. Thankfully, once the yurt’s stove was fired up with ram dung, we were soon toasty.
Kyzyl‑Oi: Hitchhiking to Nowhere
Next, we headed for Kyzyl‑Oi, a remote traditional village deep in the mountains. The only way there was hitchhiking — though in Kyrgyzstan, hitchhiking simply means paying locals for a lift.
Our first ride was with two dodgy‑looking but friendly men who had acquired a fake police siren. Every time they approached a car, they’d blast the siren and the car would move aside. Terrifyingly efficient.
They dropped us an hour short of the village, and another lift took us along a dirt road through a stunning valley.
Kyzyl‑Oi was tiny — a handful of houses on a dusty road, surrounded by dramatic mountains. More stray donkeys than people. A few dogs. Silence everywhere. We hiked through gorges, crossed streams, and didn’t see another soul. It was the perfect reset.
After two days of peace, it was time to move on and explore the south of this incredible country.
Arslanbob, Osh & The Long Road South
It took us nine hours to get from Kyzyl‑Oi down to Arslanbob — a chaotic mix of hitchhiking and taxis.
The journey itself was probably the most picturesque car ride I’ve ever been on: 3,000‑metre mountain passes, yurts scattered across rolling pastures, horses, donkeys, sheep and cows either on the road, beside the road, or sadly, legs‑up in the road.
All of it framed by those ever‑present snow‑capped peaks and turquoise rivers carving through red‑rock canyons.
The scenery was the only thing stopping me from pooing my pants thanks to one of our drivers, who seemed determined to be mistaken for a Formula One rookie.
He left half his tyre tread on every bend, overtook on blind corners, and only put his seatbelt on when he suspected a police car might be nearby. Terrifying, yes — but we arrived quicker.
Arslanbob: Walnut Forests & Uzbek Hospitality
Arslanbob sits in southern Kyrgyzstan, where the culture shifts noticeably.
The south is more Uzbek, with a more conservative dress style, a Middle Eastern feel, Uzbek spoken in the streets, and a level of street chaos that wouldn’t feel out of place in an Arabic bazaar.
It ended up being one of the highlights of our time in the country.
The village sits beneath (of course) more snow‑capped mountains and is surrounded by vast walnut forests. In September, the entire village disappears to go nut‑picking — a tradition that’s been going on for centuries.
We did a couple of day hikes to waterfalls and spent the rest of the time soaking up the atmosphere around the bustling central bazaar.
We stayed in two homestays, both brilliant in their own way.
The first was a true Uzbek family experience — one of the kindest, most hospitable families we’ve ever met.
The £4 per night (including dinner and breakfast) felt like a side note; they genuinely wanted to host us. The room was tiny, basic, and had a glass door with zero privacy, but the warmth of the family made it perfect. They were deeply interested in us, our home lifestyle and our trip.
The second homestay was more geared towards tourists but equally lovely — mountain views, a flower‑filled garden, and a peaceful chill‑out area and incredible food.
Osh: Heat, History & One Enormous Bazaar
From Arslanbob we headed to Osh, Kyrgyzstan’s second‑largest city, perched right on the Uzbekistan border. It’s around 3,000 years old and was a major stop on the ancient Silk Road, where caravans from Europe traded with the riches of the East.
Osh has the largest bazaar in Central Asia — a maze of stalls selling everything from clothes to dodgy kids’ toys to fruit, nuts, and fly‑infested meat. The heat was brutal, and we spent most of our two days there lying in a sweaty heap.
Back to Bishkek by snail & Onwards to Mongolia
We’re now back in Bishkek after a gruelling 11‑hour journey along that same stunning mountain road. This time our driver was the complete opposite — a man apparently auditioning for the role of “tortoise in human form.” Slow, but safe.
We’ve got a couple of days to regroup before flying on to Mongolia.
Kyrgyzstan has been an absolute joy — some of the best scenery we’ve ever seen, a fascinating mix of cultures, and a warmth that stays with you.
From nomadic yurt dwellers to Uzbek‑influenced southern towns, and influences from Russia, China, and the wider region, it’s a true hidden gem in the middle of the world map.
I really hope more people from the West get to discover it.
