An overnight trip to the Trans-Ili Alatau II: Kaindy Lake & Charyn Canyon.

The cat meows loudly to be let out. It’s early, but I’m up and so I go to open the door.

No sooner is the cat outside than it wants back in. Fro the rest of the morning it purrs loudly enough for me to hear it from halfway across the yurt. I bid it come over for pets and then encourage it to climb up onto the bed. It does for a moment but doesn’t linger, and I miss the opportunity to have it sleep with me.

Lucy’s been up since 0530, still not adjusted to the local time. She’s keeping her China hours for the time being. Early to bed and early to rise. People have been stirring, washing up, packing their things. Yun Jung has even taken a shower. There’s no hot water.

I spot the driver standing outside and ask him how long he’s been driving a bus. It’s only been a year. I ask him what he did before that? A lot of things. I don’t press.

Breakfast is served in the dining tent: porrige, pancakes, breads, an assortment of other items. We have half an hour before we’re to set off for Lake Kaindy. It’ll be about a 25 min drive to a parking lot where we’ll transfer to a Soviet bus and a Soviet van for the drive up to another lot where we’ll have the option of taking horses or cabs to the lake. It’ll take anoher 20 minutes or so by Soviet vehicle and then another 20 minutes on horseback if we so choose.

Passing the Thai women on the way to the bus I wish them a happy Songkran, and pantomime throwing water on them. Today is the start of the Thai new year.

On the drive up to the lake a few people express interest in hiking to the lake. Zhuldyz says it’s about a 40 min walk to the lake and people are still keen. She doesn’t want to break the group into three and asks if anyone wants to take a cab. None do. And so it’s decided that the options are now either on foot or on horse.

At the transfer point it’s determined that we’re going to be taking three vans instead of a bus and a van. It may have to do with crowd control as there’s another group already at the parking lot standing next to the bus, although there seems to be no motion in either direction from them.

I hop into the first van along with a group of Indians, Natan, Lucy, Yun Jung, and a few others. We end up waiting for other vans to arrive and fill before we caravan our way to the next parking lot.

We’re told to take photso of our van’s license plate to make sure we board the same one back to the bus.

At the next stopping point there’s a corral of horses on one side; on the other there’s three or four coffee shops selling instant coffee and snacks. I ask Lucy, Natan, and Jun Yung what they’re planning on doing. They’re all choosing horses. I follow suit.

The horse handler asks me if I can ride a horse. I nod and he puts me on Capitain, the lead horse. He ties Yun Jung’s horse to mind and has Lucy and Natan saddle up on two other horses that he has follow ours. He lets us out and we begin the climb up into the mountains towards the lake.

I assume the horse handler is following us, but when I look back it’s just the four of us. I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere where I’ve been given a horse and trusted to lead. Not that I have much work to do. The horse knows the way, as the lyrics read, and I am there just to make sure we don’t get into trouble.

We follow the group of Singaporeans and Thai until Capitain has had enough of following and I let him overtake the others until we’re at the front on the trail.

The views from the horse trail are beautiful. Below, the walkers follow a road on the valley and then walk on a metal walkway beside the river.

Nearing the lake, I can see it below and the famed trunks of the trees that jut out from the water. The lake was formed by a landslide triggered by the 1911 Kebin earthquake. The limestone formed a naturaldam, blocking the gorge and filling it with river water. The limestone also gives it its fabled bluish-green color.

We descend down a steep trail to a small pasture where the horses are kept. We are to walk the final bit. A handler takes the horses and leads them into the woods. He tells us to remember we’re group four and collects our 6,000 Tenge each for the round-trip.

We climb. set of stairs up to the path that leads the rest of the way to the lake, taking a shortcut down to a viewing platform that we see to our left as we’re walking towards the main viewing area.

The lake is beautiful, the colors changing with the light. There’s also the now-familiar sight of a photographer shooting portraits of tourists dressed in traditional dress, a Golden Eagle on their arm..

Jules collects us on the main viewing platform for a group photo. I ask if I can walk down to the edge of the lake. After the photo. She tells us there’s a 30-minute walk to a higher viewpoint that she’ll lead in a bit. I scamper down to the water’s edge for a photo before clamboring back up in time to join the group. Natan, Lucy, and Yun Jung follow me to the water’s edge. Natan takes a seat and proclaims he’s found his spot. He’s not eager to leave.

The walk to the viewpoint takes less than 30 minutes. She overestimates the time based on slower, older tourist walk times. From the viewpoint the road continues and she tells us there’s a path that ends up at the river feeding into the lake. She says it’s an hour a 40 minutes to do the walk. I ask if it’s possible to do it in an hour. Do you want to do it? Yes. A group of Indians are also eager to go ahead. She tells us to wait; she’ll ask the rest of the group but we’ll have to walk fast.

A small group joins, including the couple from the Netherlands, and we set out. It takes us just under 20 minutes to reach the mouth of the river. I start to walk towards the rocky beach at the edge of the lake and Jules cries out to not touch the water. I turn back. It’s an 85,000 Tenge fine.

We stand at the edge of where the river feeds into the lake, wanting to get closer. The man from the Netherlands disapears into the woods to the left and emerges out by the rock cliffs and makes a series of jumps to the rocky beach. I follow in his footsteps, asking where he landed when I reach the river’s edge.

One of the Indians and another of our group walks over the log bridges I had originally intended to use and the four of us take photos by the edge of the lake. I walk back along the log bridges, slightly unsteadily. I’m amazed I make it across and I imagine I can hear people from our group gasping when I look to almost lose my footing.

Lucy and Yun Jung have made it on their own just in time. Jules is about to lead us back. Natan has decided to linger on the other side. They had seen us from the higher viewpoint and found their way.

I break out the biscuits I had purchsed the day before and pass them around. Zhuldyz likes them and asks me what they are. I show her the package. Nothing but the best for this group.

On the walk back Jules asks me if I am advid hiker. I tell her I like the views and I like walking but I hike almost in spite of myself sometimes. She says she thought I was a professional for how quickly I make my way. I’m a New Yorker; I can’t help but walk at a brisk pace.

Back near the main viewing area Jules sends the walkers back on their own. She gathers the people who are riding together and we walk back to the pasture. She laments that some of us have paid the round-trip price, preferring that we paid each leg separately. I tell YJ we’re not going to pay more than we’ve already paid, and our horse handler brings our horses out from the forest when he sees us.

I mount Capitain and after a little help from the handler to move some horses out of the way, my horse leads us back up the steep trail towards the top of the path.

En route, I see a small group coming down. One rider leans forward over his horse and I tell him it’s better if he leans back. Both for him and the horse. I don’t see if he takes the advice.

Back at the parking lot I say goodbye to Capitain. His coat is smooth and I give him a last pat before I turn to go. I wish I had a sugarcube to give him.

Back at the pasture there was some drama as the horse the Australian from Perth rode had been sent back. There may have been some miscommuniction with whether he wanted to ride back. Zhuldyz asked him if he took a picture of his horse. I knew I wouldn’t have had such an issue. Capitain whould not have left without me.

I offer to buy Zhuldyz a coffee and ask her which shop she’d like it from .She says they’re all instant and the same so I choose the shop we’re standing before, the one in the middle. Lucy, Natan, and Yun Jung had gone to the one on the right. I ask them how much their coffee is. 1000 Tenge, they tell me. I paid 500. Apparently the shop on the left had a proper coffee pot. They had chosen the worst of the three, but they were given lids for their cups.

Outside I meet a pair of nineteen-year-olds on a tour. They tower over me. They have little English and I can’t quite understand where they’re from, but they’re fun to talk to and we converse as best we can until Zhuldyz calls us back to the waiting Soviet vans.

The van takes us back to Mrs. Shakira’s. We’re a little pressed for time as the next group to come for lunch will arrive in about half an hour. Lunch is a beef plov and delicious. The Filipinos are excited for the rice, as am I. They haven’t had as much since arriving. Kath says later it’s like a forced diet.

I’m seated next to the Singaporeans and I’m glad for the opportunity to chat with and learn more about them. I ask where they live in Singapore. The sisters live near the Jumbo Seafood I end up at almost every time I go; Hani lives in the west where no one goes. I mention my neice is attending the National University of Singapore and Hani says that’s relatively close to her. They’re Malay and I ask if it’s too late to wish them Eid Mubarak. No, they say, happy that I remembered.

From the hostel it’s about an hour and a half to reach Charyn Canyon. It’s late afternoon when we arrive and we’ll be spending about two and a half hours there. We need to be back to the bus by 1720. It’s a 40 min walk to the river and we can choose to either walk back or take a cab. If we’re to cab we should buy tickets at the river as soon as we arrive as they seat you based on your ticket number.

The canyon is 12 million years old, twice the age of the Grand Canyon in the United States. Carved by the Charyn River, the 154 km gorge is known for the 2 km “Valley of Castles” we’re about to walk.

At the top of the canyon there’s a beautiful visitor center with a cafe and gift shop. Yurts look to be available for rent next to an archery range. Off to the side luxury cabins face the canyon, tho are set far from the edge.

Zhuldyz tells us we can walk ahead. She’ll stay to corral the people using the restroom. I head towards the stairs down and catch up to Lucy. Yun Jung has gone on ahead.

As we walk we see the Singaporeans running behind us. They wave as they pass. They were tired of walking and are eager to reach the river. I ask them if they’re going to run back. From behind I cn see Hani wagging her finger back in forth. No.

Lucy and I chat about the National Parks in the west. On her year around the world she and her partner had visited a number of them, including Zion and Bryce Canyon. We remark on the similarities. I’d been to Zion and Bryce as a child and would love to go back. I tell her about the trip I did to the western United States with my parents a few years ago when I did manage to revisit Arches as an adult, which was a highlight of that year.

Jules catches up and I ask her if she wants to walk with Lucy and I. We talk about plans for the future and the mistakes of youth made before the future is something one plans for rather than something that merely exists in an intangible state. The rock formations tower above us and here and there we can see almost microscopic people peering down from the edge of canyon.

At the bottom we dutifully buy our tickets for the cab. Lucy says she doesn’t feel the need to walk back, and I agree. It also allows us more time at the bottom.

We ask Zhuldyz for food recommendations in Almaty. She had spent a few months living in Frankfurt while working her last job in fashion marketing and loves Italian food. She tells us there are a number of good Italian restaurants run by Italian chefs and singles out Fettucine as her favorite. She follows that with Broadway for burgers and Doner na Abaya for the namesake dish.

When we find Yun Jung she’s holding a coffee cup. It’s Natan’s. He had stopped at the cafe and tells us the coffee is good, which makes us all want to stop for a cup when we’re back on the rim. Yun Jung clings to the cup the entire time we’re in the gorge, as if she’s planning on keeping it as a souvenir, or as a caffinated nasal inhaler.

We linger by the river, taking photos of each other and helping one another to a rocky spot that looks like you’re sitting in the river itself.

The sunsets is occluded and the light fades without quite lighting the canyon on fire.

When it’s time to go Zhuldyz gathers us near the truck stop. There’s a small group before us who clamber onto the back of the truck and into the cab. Zhuldyz organizes us by number and tells our group we’ll be on the next truck. We’re excited to be part of the first group; we’ll have time for coffee before we leave.

At the top, our first stop is the cafe. Lucy buys me a flat white. Others order full-on meals to take with them on the bus. We won’t be back in Almaty until at least 21h and people are hedging against potentially lost dinner opportunities.

We take our coffee outside and watch our shadows reach towards the edge of the canyon. There’s a path to the rim, but we don’t have the time to walk there and back before we leave. It’d be great to rent a car and stay at the canyon to be able to see the light paint the canyon in sunrise and sunet colors. Back on the bus I’ll ask Zhuldyz how much it costs to stay in the cabins. She doesn’t know exactly, but tells me it’s about the same as a five-star hotel in Almaty.

Looking back towards the top of the stairs we see the last of our group coming up out of the canyon and we walk in their direction towards the bus. A man stands on a ridge looking out over us and we wonder if he’s on patrol, making sure we don’t act the fool until we turn around to see the sun has broken through the clouds for a moment, its dying rays light the canyon on fire. He’s gazing out at nature’s display, not us.

Back at the bus we’re delayed as a few passengers wait for their food to be prepared; they had misjudged the time. Zhuldyz tells us we’ll be driving an hour and a half to a petrol station beside the one we stopped at the day before. We’ll stop there for about 20 minutes and then it’ll be another hour and a half to reach Almaty. There, the drop off order will be the reverse of when we were picked up, with the Novotel first, the Kazakhstan hotel next, and the Holiday Inn last.

As we drive she tells us we’ll be see a beautiful sunset if we look out the front of the bus. The road winds a bit and I’m rewarded with most of the sunset out of my window until the road curves again and the last of the light ends on the left.

Passing the dandelion fields I spot two men running towards a large patch to catch the last reflected light from the sky.

I nap on the way to the petrol station and buy a few packs of the biscuits I had shared earlier and offer them to Zhuldyz. She has a city tour tomorrow and then the day after she’s doing the one-day version of our two day tour; a 17-hour day. It sounds brutal. She takes one pack and I give the other to the driver.

Lucy, Kath, and Natan are dropped off first. We have plans for dinner tomorrow. Yun Jung and I alight at the Hotel Kazakhstan. We have plans with Lucy and Kath to visit Shymbulak, the ski resort, in the morning. We hug farewell, knowing we’ll meet in the morning. Her Airbnb is next door to the hotel; mine is a few blocks away.

It’s been an unexpectedly great tour with a fantastic group of people and I’m sad that it’s over. But equally happy that a few of us will reunite the next day to eke out another few hours in each other’s company before we scatter, each to our own corner of the earth.

For dinner I toast some bread and eat it with the honey I purchased near Saty; the sweetness coats my bittersweet heart. 🇰🇿