I the morning I head to the shop to stock up on a few veges (the usual - carrots, onions and capsicum). Breakfast at the guesthouse is bread and cream. I eat as much as possible, the rally drivers - both tajik and mongol - have barely a nibble.
I head towards the Kyrgyz border, looking at the mountains and feeling a little anxious about the next few weeks. I have all sorts of doubts running through my head. Will I get altitude sickness, do I have enough warm clothes, will my tent poles snap in the wind, will I find any vegetables anywhere etc.
I exit Kyrgyzstan with minimal fuss and cruise through no mans land. And by cruise I mean huff and puff my way uphill. It is about another 20km to the Tajik border and my visa doesn't start until tomorrow. I find a spot to camp in the ruins of a house. It provides some good wind protection. My campsite is at an altitude of 3740m, my highest campsite yet.
After a terrible sleep I get up to find frost on the tent and the ground. I head up hill and enjoy a little more Kyrgyz hospitality. I am invited in for chai and bread at a farmhouse just below the pass. It is only another 300 vertical metres or so.
After a little riding and a lot of pushing I make it over Kyzil- Art pass, my highest one yet at 4336m.
I make it into Tajikistan by lunchtime, another surprisingly easy border crossing. From there is is mostly downhill to Karakol. I also reap the benefits of a strong tailwind.
Soon enough I cycle past a group of Tajik soldiers on patrol. They dal me down and I wonder if this is the start of the passport checks. All they want is some water and photos.
The landscape is eerie and very stark. It's hard to describe so I will just show you some photos.
The clear blue skies so make way for rain, hail and a bitterly cold wind. I put my head down and just concentrate on getting to Karakol, where I know there is a homestay and I can be warm. I know that the lake must be beautiful but the weather is too horrendous to take too much time to look at it.
By the time I get to the village my legs and face are freezing, my raincoat and rain gloves were doing their job well.
Six other cyclists soon arrive from the other direction, in much the same state I was in an hour ago. I have a wonderful heavy sleep.
28/8 Sary-Tash - no mans land: rode 35km, ODO 1641km
29/8 no mans land - Karakol: rode 62km, ODO 1703km
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