Shkhara
Capturing the spirit of Kyrgyzstan.
As a photographer and filmmaker, I’m always drawn to adventure. This summer, my team—consisting of Gabi, Tiziana, Aronne, and me—traveled to Central Asia for an adventure shoot. The journey was absolutely worth it.
For the upcoming production I needed to find a unique location. During a brainstorming session, I remembered a place I visited 14 years ago: Kyrgyzstan. I call it the "Switzerland of Central Asia" because of its diverse and wild landscapes. The country boasts stunning high mountains like Pik Dzhingis Khan at 7,439m, alongside fascinating deserts and lakes.
Upon arriving at Bishkek Airport, we were briefed on our four-wheel-drive vehicle—was it in Kyrgyz or Russian? Thanks to some creative gestures, we managed to figure it out.
Leaving the heat of the capital, we headed to 1,600m above sea level to reach Issyk-Kul, the world’s second-largest alpine lake, 11.6 times bigger than Lake Constance. Despite its size and the tourist development around it, we didn’t see any sailboats or motorboats, giving the lake a nearly untouched atmosphere. We assessed the water quality as quite good, so quickly turned it into our private swimming pool.
Our original plan for a four-day trek was thwarted by the weather. From Issyk-Kul, we saw large cumulus clouds in the morning and heavy thunderstorms by the afternoon. So, on our second evening, we drove to the famous Jeti-Ögüz sandstone formations, known as the Seven Bulls. Despite the strong wind, we had a great time near the rocks. Young horse riders tried to persuade us to join a quick ride, but as darkness approached and rain began, we decided to leave. On our way out of the valley, I spotted a yurt camp and turned back. The rain was pouring, so I dashed to a tent and asked the owner if we could stay. He said they usually didn’t take guests but would make an exception due to the bad weather. We were thrilled to stay in the lovely yurt. A highlight was when the owner’s daughter showed us in the dark how to milk a cow.
The next day, we drove to the Skazka Valley, also known as Fairy Tale Valley, on the southern shore of Issyk-Kul Lake. It has been shaped by millennia of erosion, creating spectacular, colorful rock formations that resemble mythical creatures and castles and that glow in various shades of red, giving the valley a fairytale feel. As a geographer with an interest in geomorphology and geology, I found it fascinating. We wandered through this beautiful landscape, almost alone.
As the rain began again, we drove to a remote valley with an expansive high plateau at around 2,600m. The road was really rough, which is why the car rental service advised us not to drive there. But I was curious... It was nearly dark when we found a nice spot in a meadow. Exhausted from the long day, we crawled into our tents to sleep.
The next day began with a sunrise and a hike. When we returned to the car, ready to pack up, we discovered the engine wouldn’t start—the battery was dead, despite us having turned off all the lights.
Aronne and I took a footpath to the distant mountain road, but there were no cars in sight. After a while, a vehicle came by, but they couldn’t help. Two hours later, we finally flagged down someone who seemed to have a solution. Instead of traversing the small path to our car, they took us further down the valley and then up a steep, wet field with seven people in a small four-wheel-drive. When we asked if they had a cable, they replied that they only had a phone charger but thought we could manage. I thought, "When we slide down the hill, we are going to die for nothing." Initially, it seemed impossible for them to help us, but we suspected they knew more about vehicles than we did. We walked the last few meters with their car battery to our vehicle and they installed it, the engine started, and we swapped batteries while it was running. Huge thanks to them! The journey could continue.
We drove to a lodge in the city of Karakol, where we could rest and recharge our camera batteries, as well as our own for the upcoming trek. The weather forecast looked promising, with little chance of rain and thunderstorms.
On the first day, the hike was relatively flat toward the Terskey Alatau mountains. Despite the weather forecast, dark clouds rolled in by afternoon, and a loud thunderstorm approached. We spotted a yurt nearby and rushed toward it. It was already pouring, and I asked the shepherd boy with gestures, while running toward him, if we could take shelter. He gave us a thumbs up, and we felt relieved to have a roof over our heads. Lightning and thunder were fierce, and outside, it was already white from the hail. A rider who passed by seemed unaffected, along with his horse and dog. It took a while for the rain to let up, and we used that time for a nap while the boy tried, unsuccessfully, to get a fire going in the stove.
Once the sky cleared, we moved on toward the mountains. I recalled my trip 14 years ago when we found a great camping spot in the riverbed. This time, due to the much larger water volume, we set up our tents higher up by the path. We enjoyed the sound of the stream and the view of the untouched meanders. The Tien Shan fir trees, typical for the high mountain regions of Central Asia, stood tall and slender, giving the landscape a majestic atmosphere.
The next day was challenging. We crossed a wooden bridge over the Karakol River and ascended about 1,200m to Ala-Kul Lake at 3,532m. When we arrived at the lake, we waded through the outflowing stream to the spot where I had camped with friends years ago. Back then, we had hauled wood up about 800m for a campfire, only to get caught in a thunderstorm that left us huddled in our tents, feet close together to minimize the impact of lightning, while 20-30cm of snow fell. This time, we were luckier, enjoying a peaceful evening with breathtaking mountain views.
After a restful night we set out for the Ala-Kul Pass at about 3,900m. As we climbed, we enjoyed magnificent views over high mountains. The Ala-Kul lake displayed beautiful shades of blue and green, while a small glacial stream meandered its way into the lake. However, when we reached the pass, thunder rolled in, and hail began to fall. We hurriedly descended the steep slope toward a yurt camp. Over endless muddy trails and streams, we finally reached the Altyn-Arashan camp at about 2,600m. The valley is known for its hot springs, and we quickly found a cozy yurt with warm hosts. After kicking off our muddy shoes and enjoying a well-deserved beer in the evening sun, we headed into the hot springs. The starry sky that followed was simply incredible. Far from civilization, the stars were even more pronounced.
On the last day of trekking, we had only about 14km and 700m to descend. Most people took the bumpy ride with old Soviet trucks or on the back of horses. At the end of the hike, we drove back to our familiar, deserted beach at Issyk-Kul Lake and spent the night by the shore.
Early the next morning, we headed to the town of Kochkor. The weekly livestock market was taking place there, and we had to check it out. Numerous sheep, goats, horses, and cattle awaited new owners. It was exciting to watch the locals trade.
Next up was a highlight: driving along a dusty mountain road to Son-Kul Lake at over 3,000m. This lake has a diameter of about 29km and is known for its vast steppe landscapes, nomadic herding culture, and freely roaming herds of cattle, horses, and yaks. Every summer, families come here to graze their animals. Another thunderstorm was brewing, and we continued to the cold, windy Mondo Ashuu Pass at 3,346m. The descent took us through a very dry valley landscape. That evening, we set up our tents in the sand somewhere in the Baetevo steppe. We soon discovered another vehicle issue: the right rear tire was flat.
Changing it proved to be quite a challenge due to our inadequate equipment, the sandy ground, and our limited experience. Eventually, we succeeded, but we had to get the tire patched up at a local tire shop before we could get back on the road. We continued towards an abandoned settlement in a desert landscape, where the emptiness of the surroundings set the tone for what was to come.
We ascended a magnificent mountain pass that unveiled an incredibly wild landscape. The canyon beneath us seemed untouched by time. As we drove further south over the pass, the highlights of the journey only grew more remarkable. Clouds played across the sky, casting beautiful shadows and contours on the rolling green hills. Not a single house or power line was in sight—a dream for any traveler who cherishes such untouched, pristine environments.
The off-road tracks we navigated grew increasingly wild as we pressed on further south. Eventually, we crossed a highway leading to China and reached our southernmost destination: Tash Rabat.
Tash Rabat is a historic caravanserai dating back to the 15th century, nestled at about 3,200m in the Terskey Alatau mountains. It once served as a resting place for weary travelers and traders along the Silk Road and is renowned for its impressive stone architecture. We found accommodation in a yurt camp which even had a steam sauna—what a dream!
The next morning, it was time to saddle up for a different kind of adventure. We had booked a horse tour into the valley. The terrain was perfect for riding, though it quickly became clear that we were all greenhorns on horseback. In contrast, the Kyrgyz locals we encountered along the way seemed like seasoned rodeo riders. At times, our horses obeyed our commands—at other times, they had minds of their own. Despite this, the experience was exhilarating, and I couldn’t help but think how much I would love to undertake a multi-day trek on horseback in the future. Aside from some freely roaming horses, we also spotted an eagle soaring overhead, while the valley was utterly empty.
After our ride, with sore thighs and aching backsides, we attempted a different route toward the Naryn Valley. We had already driven several kilometers, even crossing two stream beds, before we were stopped by some men at a solitary house. They warned us that the road ahead was blocked due to a landslide, so we had to retrace our steps to the original route. Eventually, we reached the Naryn Valley, where we set up camp by a tranquil stream. That night, under the glow of our headlamps, we talked about the adventures we'd experienced so far.
The next day, it was time to head back to Bishkek, completing the final 350km of our 2200km journey. As our last highlight, we explored Bishkek’s Osh Bazaar—one of the largest and most iconic markets in Central Asia! As we wandered through the vibrant stalls, we were met with a wave of colors and tempting aromas. The bazaar boasts an array of goods, from fresh produce and spices to handmade crafts and textiles—a true taste of Kyrgyz culture. One specialty is their flatbread, often beautifully decorated. Haggling for souvenirs was a lot of fun, but at 40°C, the heat definitely wore us out!
In short, it was an adventure full of unexpected challenges, breathtaking landscapes, and vibrant cultures. The combination of mountains, lakes, and warm-hearted locals made this trip unforgettable.
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