"Pervyy raz?" Asked the taxi driver in Russian when we were driving towards the center of Bishkek. "No, we are in Kyrgyzstan for the third time", we answered. „Akouda?" Came the next question. "Schweizaria" we continued the question and answer game patiently, already knowing what would come next. Et voilà: "Kyrgyzstan kak Schweizaria" noted the taxi driver. Kyrgyzstan is like Switzerland, so why are you coming here for the third time? Well, that's a longer story and it exceeded our knowledge of the Russian language. We brought the conversation to the expected end - Kyrgyzstan is beautiful, has fewer cities and people, is wider, lonelier, more adventurous - and meanwhile we pondered what actually had led us to Kyrgyzstan in these summer holidays.

For one, it was Jerry our friend from Colorado. A year ago on the Mongolian border, we were bidding farwell to each other after more than four months of riding together, and having only sporadic contact over whatsapp since then, we were looking forward to four weeks of summer holidays together. While we would rather have chosen a ride through the Cordillera of Peru, Jerry wished something culturally new and so, after weighing flight connections and prices, we ended up in Kyrgyzstan. On the other hand, we have traveled Kyrgyzstan on two previous trips with a fully packed touring bike and a heavy trekking backpack and thus had by far not exploited the potential of the country as a bikepacking destination.

While we had sometimes cursed the touring bike because it stopped us from entering the remote valleys, we regularly cursed the rucksack when we were walking for several hours on an old Soviet dirt track that was calling for a few studded tires. We did not want to make that mistake again. And at the end probably just played in a bit of comfort. We know the Central Asian culture almost by heart, we can communicate with the locals, we know that camping in Kyrgyzstan is easy, the flight over Istanbul is direct and cheap and that in "Switzerland of Central Asia" were waiting a few routes, we already have had longer on the radar. And if you stand one day after school year end at the check-in desk, stressed and overtired by the hustle and bustle of the last months, you are just not unhappy about this last point.

At the almost surreal blue Issyk Köl lake we started for the first crossing of the Tien Shan mountains. Untrained as we were, a nasty surprise awaited us on the half-decayed Jeep trail over the 3800m high Dzhukhu pass. Steep, blocked with rocks and with not enough oxygene in the lungs it became a heavy „back to the road“ experience. Blizzards, sweeping over us with lightning and thunder and daily fresh snow, foodbags which were emptying too fast: Yes, we had already got used too much to the comfortable and predictable Swiss life again.

Kyrgyzstan is not at all "kak Schweizaria". Here everything had a wilder and more adventurous touch, even if the surrounding mountains reminded us from time to time of the Alps. But soon we were back in the flow and when we arrived in the small town of Naryn, it was already clear that despite inconstant weather we would add a second high pass and set off towards China with a special borderland permit in our pocket. But only after a three-day break and a big shopping tour over the bazaar. With so little food as on the first leg, we did not want to be on the road again: Bikepacking is not so much fun with rationed peanuts...

For a short time we were riding on the transit route to the famous Torugart Pass, one of the most important border passes on the ancient Silk Road from the Middle Kingdom to Central Asia and on to Europe. The caravans of ancient times have long been replaced by the omnipresent blue heavy trucks of the Chinese. China is flooding the Central Asian market with its cheap scrap and much of it is finding its way through the Torugart as it was in ancient times. After about forty kilometers we turned off the highway onto a bumpy corrugated road that led us towards Keel Su Lake.

After passing the first checkpoint, we turned off the main road again and soon we found ourselves panting and pushing. "Old 4x4 road to Keel Su, no longer in use" was written in small letters along the dotted line on open street map. The overgrown track led almost vertically skyward and once again we saw our experience confirmed: Only Russian UAZ jeeps were able to set such a route, a modern Toyota or Landcruiser would have no chance here. And we have to admit: We also came to the limit every now and then. Damn Soviets!

But after each new crest, the rugged mountains moved closer and the panorama became more dramatic. Like a seemingly insurmountable wall, the Tien Shan range separates the Chinese province of Xinjiang from Kyrgyzstan. Only the Keel Su Lake, the "long lake" has devoured for millenia a more than fourteen-kilometer long path through the rocks. But when we finally stood on its shore, we did not look at the expected turquoise water. Dried out, with deep cracks in the mud it reminded us rather of a brown salt lake. A sign of global warming?

After the first disappointment we found pleasure in the unexpected. We rode several kilometers into the narrow canyon and watched out for the first sun rays slowly licking down on the steep cliffs. The black shadows gave way to the bright sun and with it the temperature slowly rose above freezing point. We stopped and looked southward. So the way to China would be open ... but in fall we are going to lead a small tour group to Eastern Tibet and thus we could not risk to mess around with the Chinese border police. And so we turned around, packed up our tent and looked for the way back to civilization - but this time on the easier main road: A three days long struggle against sand, rocks and headwinds.

Over a couple of minor unnamed passes and the well-known Song Köl lake we finally reached the Grande Finale - because: All good things come in threes and the Kegeti Pass proves that you should listen to old proverbs. It’s an old Soviet track as well, burried on the southern side in the upper part under scree and only feasible as a trekking or hike-a-bike route, but on the northern side with a fast and seemingly never-ending descent down to the flatlands. In less than thirty kilometers we pulverized more than three thousand meters and changed within hours from the cold, inhospitable high mountains area to the dry and humid agricultural land around Bishkek. All good things come in threes: It was probably our last tour through Kyrgyzstan - but hopefully not our last tour with Jerry. See you next year in ...