"Best Trail Ride Ever"

We ride towards the snow-capped mountain. The valley stretches forever - first one bend, then another. Through the middle runs a mountain stream. This area is all open range. The farmers rent grazing rights from the village, but there are no fences, no power lines, no development, none. Leon surmises that this is what the west must have been like in the days of Zane Grey and Louis L'amour lore.

We round a bend and see a horseman with a dog, a flock of sheep. He rides up and pleasantries are exchanged with Rysbek and Askar. Around the next bend is a herd of horses. Again, hands are extended and grasped.

It slowly soaks in that we are riding through an amazing, wild part of Central Asia. We snap hundreds of pictures of the valley; none do it justice. After five hours, we come to a small farm, comprised of a tent made of cotton and a horse corral. They welcome us with tea. We are supposed to ride another 90 minutes, but we declare "here is good" and set up our tents about 50 feet from the rushing stream.

Rysbek would like to go hunting, and Jim's willing. Rysbek has brought two guns along. One -- a 1915 Browning (Belgian) shotgun --he received as a present from his son-in-law, and has never shot. Leon figures out how the pieces go together, and Jim claims that gun. Rysbek meanwhile has a World War One Russian sniper rifle.

The rest of us stay in valley and start a campfire for supper. We hear a few shots now and then. When they return, Jim has shot three rabbits. They are taken from him, skinned, washed in the river, skewered, and put onto the fire's coals within 10 minutes.

Iskar, another farmer, comes riding by with his two dogs, his sheep. He crosses over the stream (leaving his flock on the other side) and sits with us and shares the meal of rabbit. We LOVE that he does so, noting the instant camaraderie of this nomadic life.

Saddling Up

The next morning, we arise to see for the first time where we really are. We are on a simple ranch, but nothing about the scenery is simple. In one direction, we see their grazing horses against a backdrop straight from a movie set, except it's real. In another direction, mountain flowers paint the ground with purples, yellows and blues. It is heart-stopping beautiful.

After washing up in the stream, Askar and son start rounding up the horses, but not to be saddled -- yet. First, the mares need to be milked. (Fermented mare's milk is a famous Kyrgyz drink.) I had not heard of milking horses, but Askar says they can be milked up to five times a day.

Then, the saddles come out. The saddles look like a wooden frame, with little to no leather attached. My butt is anticipating several hours in these, and I wince. But, atop a saddle blanket, they put on these saddles "frames", another thick blanket, then a cinch that goes around the entire works. By the time I'm seated, it feels very comfortable.

The horses are well trained. They are not small ponies, but the same size as an American quarter horse. We all name our horses: mine is Blue Babbette; Beth's is Loretta; Mark's is Lucky; and Jim's is Star. The mouth noises Askar and his son use with them are obviously different than our "giddy-up" and "whoa;" I can't roll my r's so I'm unable to even make one of the sounds. But, my horse is trained for neck reining and responds well to me.

We ultimately ride a 30 mile round trip over two days through mountainous terrain, including fording quite fast-running streams. I assume correctly that my horse knows where to plant his hooves better than I and I give him a lot of rein.

Traditional Ceremony of the Lamb

We knew we were going to be staying in a yurt our first night on the mountain, but it was very different than I had expected. I had imagined an igloo-shaped temporary shelter, covered in wool. (I got the shape and wool part right.) But, the rest was wrong. Askar's yurt was built many years ago by his father. It is a permanent structure, with wooden ribs. Plain from the outside, it is beautiful inside, filled with cushions and carpets on the floor.

As we entered it late that first night, the yurt was filled with food and family. We were asked to sit down, cross-legged style, and the introductions began.

With the exception of 50 plus years as a collective farm while part of the Soviet Union, this farm has been in Rysbek's family since the 16th century. His brother Askar and his family live here; they shepherd sheep and over 40 horses. The farm is simple and beautiful. There is a small farmhouse and this yurt, where the family takes all of its meals. There is no running water, indoor plumbing, or electricity. A single bulb lights the yurt, powered by a 12-volt battery.

It's 10:30 p.m. by now and the family has been awaiting our arrival. On a tablecloth on the floor are many small dishes of cream, honey, jam, and nuts. There are hundreds of small baked bread puffs spread across the whole. We eat and sip tea, and talk. It is delicious. We think that is the meal.

Then, a whole lamb is brought in. It has been killed to honor our arrival. It is boiled, and the head of the lamb adorns the top of the plate. We are told that the most honored guest receives the head to eat; that is Jim. He receives it with aplomb. Rysbek instructs us on the importance - and ceremony - of the lamb. Depending on your stature, you receive different joints or pieces. After parsing out the parts, Rysbek says that if anyone entered the yurt at this point, they would immediately know the status of each person, based on the lamb section in front of them. This is a custom that has been followed for hundreds of years.

Beyond the End of the Road

One of Jim's magical moments of this entire trip is our journey the second day in Kyrgyzstan. As Jim describes it to others, "We fly to the city of Bishkek, which 99% of Americans have never heard of, we drive 300 miles on bumpy asphalt roads, only to turn off onto a washboard dirt road that winds up a mountain. It's dark by now, and I can only glimpse a drop-off at the side of the road here with no idea how far it drops or what is below. Finally, we drive up to a gate, where there are a few houses clustered. I imagine we must be there, but we go on - another 20 minutes. I realize that I have never been this far away in my life. We've just traveled beyond the end of the road."

And, he has yet to really see where we are. But, let me start at the beginning of the day...

We leave Bishkek early in the morning, around 7:30 a.m. We're all together in a fifteen person van, which sounds big, but it contains the driver, his wife, son, and daughter; the five of us; and Rysbek, Anara, her daughter and niece. All of our luggage (we brought too much!) is piled on several seats, so it is cozy!


We travel along the northern edge of Issyk-Kul lake; the road at times also abuts the border with Kazakhstan. The lake is the second largest mountain lake in the world. The lake is clear and stunning, with little development along the shore. We can often see the white peaks of the Tien Shan mountains looming on the southern shore. We stop to swim at - get this! - the Moscow Communist Party Resort. I swim and swim.

We also stop at a cultural center along the lake that epitomizes tolerance. Through statues, buildings, and other art forms, it tries to represent the central tenets of each world religion.

Other than these stops, and for breakfast and lunch, we travel fairly continuously. Finally, we arrive at Rysbek's brother Askar's family farm. We get out of the van, stretch, and see a million stars. We are up high!

New Day in Kyrgyzstan

Our first day in Kyrgyzstan flew by. Rysbek, Babur, and Anara took us first to the Kyrgyz History Museum in Bishkek. The most interesting items to me were contained in the basement level - small, gold items found in Kyrgyzstan from ancient times. These items have been on public display only since 2008. Inside this museum I learned for the first time about "Manas", a Kyrgyzstan epic that, for them, rivals The Iliad.

We shopped for a bit at a local crafts area, containing many felt items, woolens, hats. We didn't take full advantage, as we were still in a sleep-deprived stupor. We tried a local drink for which Coca-Cola has recently bought rights to the recipe. Here's Leon's reaction..

The absolute best part of the day were the meals when we sat together and got to know more about each others' families and countries. Our dinner was at a park where permanent "picnic sites" (i.e. raised platforms) are available for dining. We sit together in a beautiful evening, and are served a wonderfully spiced rice dish. We are serenaded with traditional Kyrgyz folk songs.

We talk about Kyrgyzstan and its hopes for a peaceful future. The April 7th revolution is still fresh; one of Anara's college professors was killed during the skirmish. There are many hopes for the new president - and the soon to be elected new parliament. If all goes well, Kyrgyzstan would lead the "stans" in being its first democracy. Rysbek comments that the most important aspect will be whether their work is "transparent" and whether it re-invests income in the country (rather than their own pockets).

The country is poor, with a GNP of $1.5 billion. But, it's population is hard-working and highly educated. Kyrgyzstan pays for education through college, if a young person is interested and bright. Many of its educated people, however, today live outside of the country. (Kyrgyzstan has a population of 5 million, counting 1 million living abroad.)

We give many toasts - for our countries' futures, for our own. My favorite toast comes from Anara, "May we continue to stay in touch, and may our grandchildren be friends."

A Man Who's Rich in Daughters

I should mention how we happened to go to The Kyrgyz Republic in the first place. Jim and I met Kunduz Rysbek in Beibei, China two years ago while leading a study-abroad trip from the College of St. Ben's/ St. John's University. She was there studying Chinese on her own. She quickly became friends with our students - and with us. Kunduz is gorgeous, smart, considerate, and of a gentle spirit. Eighteen at the time, she already spoke five languages fluently. We soon adopted her as another daughter.

After returning home, Jim worked hard to get Kunduz accepted at, and to attend, St. Benedict's. (She is currently attending Miami of Ohio instead as they have a better International Business program.) But, in the course of applying to St. Ben's, many emails crossed between Jim and Kunduz or her father. In every exchange, there was an invitation, "You should come to Kyrgyzstan." We thought, "How often do we have a invitation to go to Kyrgyzstan?" so we said yes!

Now, we're in Kyrgyzstan and have met Rysbek, his wife Jyldyz, and Kunduz' older twin sisters. Both of them have the same attributes as Kunduz - gorgeous, smart, etc. etc. Each of them has daughters of her own: Anara has one daughter named Teligay. (Pictured here are Anara, Teligay, and Jyldyz). Chinara has two daughters.

I reflect on a favorite Greg Brown song of mine called: "A Man Who's Rich in Daughters", and I think of Rysbek. He truly is rich.

Hot Air Ballooning at Dawn/ Bishkek at Night

One of my favorite memories of our trip will be our 30th anniversary night on July 12. We had arranged for a "home-cooked" Turkish meal at 7:30 p.m. at our hotel. Jim and I returned from our all day tour around 7, fairly exhausted. But, a quick shower and change of clothes later, we joined Beth, Mark and Leon on the terrace.

It was a beautiful, clear night. We drank wine and shared memories of our wedding day with Beth. We were toasted and feted. Leon, Mark and Beth then surprised us with a present - a hot air balloon ride, scheduled for the next morning! What a gift.

Our transport to the balloon site arrived at 5:45 a.m. the next morning. We join several others already in the van and went up a hilltop launch site. There, four balloons are being inflated with huge propane heaters. Once filled with hot air, all five of us climb into one of four baskets tied to the balloon.

Our pilot stands in the middle of the four baskets. He's from England, and flies hot air balloons in Goreme, Cappadocia in the summer and Burma in the winter. He says most people work 9 to 5, but he prefers his 5 to 9 schedule. According to him, thirteen years ago, there was only one hot air balloon company in Goreme. But due to the unique beauty of this landscape, there are now dozens. And we see them. As the sun rises, so do the balloons. One by one, balloons of every hue start drifting across the horizon; we count over twenty-five. Soon, we are sailing, too!

Our ride lasts about an hour. We dip down into the same Love Valley that we walked two days before, then rise over farm fields, rock chimneys, and fairylike hills. The morning light sparkles. We see forever. We land right where the crew is, manuveur ourselves out of the basket, and enjoy flutes of champagne. What a perfect last morning in Goreme!

The rest of the day is spent traveling to Kyrgyzstan. Earlier, Jim had sent Kunduz a note saying that since we were arriving so late (after 1:00 a.m.), we would take a taxi to the hotel and meet her father in the morning. Kunduz replied that she wouldn't even pass that note along - that he would want to meet us upon arrival. And, he did. We left passport control, and there were three gentlemen with a hand-printed sign saying "Jim", and bouquets of roses for Beth and me. Kunduz's father Rysbek was one; the other two were Kunduz' brother-in-law and and a dear family friend named Babur.

We arrive at our hotel at 3 a.m., and fall into bed - grateful for the bed, but mostly for great friends.