03 Aug Issykul is Cool
Issy-Kul is cool!
The temps dropped dramatically after we began climbing toward the alpine lake. Our first view of the sparkling water bolstered our spirits considerably.
We spent a leisurely afternoon near the town of Tamchy in a wide open area facing the lake. Everyone went for a swim and we had takeout dinner from the local shashlik (kebab) restaurant Will remembered from last year.
August 2nd we expected more of the same, but while a few of the boys were in town, a couple of policemen arrived to roust us pikeys. Will did a great job of not understanding them, and we managed to convince them that we didn’t know we couldn’t camp there and that we would move. They wanted to “fine” us nearly 2000 SOM, but after a few minutes me talking about the map and telling them we loved the lake, they gave up and settled for just asking us to move. Don was bummed when they returned from town that we had to move, but we packed up and headed into town for a late lunch of shashlik at a friendly restaurant.
We decided to continue on around the lake past the next town in order to avoid meeting up with the police again, and stumbled upon another great campsite in a pretty inlet of the lake. Plus, as a bonus, two carloads of locals arrived with about 15 kids for a picnic with music and dancing. Stefano went over to them while they were all eating together on a big mat, to ask for a photograph.
Watching his body language and endearing manner with them, successfully getting their permission and sharing a bit of their meal, was an insightful moment for me and I feel privileged to see him work.
After he broke the ice with them, we pulled out a handful of the inflatable globes for Chris to give to the children. What a hit! We wound up giving them a half dozen, and watching them all play with them in the long sunset was one if the highlights thus far of the trip. Don reflected that in the end, getting rousted from our original site turned out to be a blessing.
Before the families packed up their two Ladas, one of the ladies came over to ask of everyone could take a picture by the bus. Of course we were delighted to crowd everyone on, with big smiles and much hugging.
Pietro and Caroline decided that a grudge match on the space hoppers was called for, since their bottle throwing skirmishes inside the bus had been escalating of late. Much trash talking was done ahead of the race, which was held in the cow pastes where we camped. Pietro wore the Mongolian zodog and both sported goggles and chicken hats.
In practice, Pietro didn’t look like much, but in the end, a cowpat in Caroline’s path caused her to lose the race by inches to the Italian. For this loss, she was required to bring him coffee and biscuits the following morning, delivered to his tent.