Is the bike an extension of my body? I think about changing gears and it’s done. I turn to look at where I want go and the motorcycle follows, just like that. That is why I find motorcycling so involving and sublime.
Riding down a tarmac road that ribbons through the Tian Shan mountains, one of the largest mountain ranges in the world, these meditations on motorcycling floated through my mind. Any rider who’s driven a stretch like the one I was on, with the cold, fresh mountain air blowing into my face, will confess to having similar thoughts.
I was riding from Naryn to Tash Rabat in central Kyrgyzstan, with a group of motorcyclists. As we rode through the undulating brown landscape, a dull drumming of hooves came in from the left, slowly building up like the surround sound in a movie theatre. As it got louder, a herd of wild horses came into my field of sight. The drumming took on a metallic note as they galloped onto the tarmac. Seeing our group, they shied away, galloping ahead of us with muscles rippling in the sunshine and manes flying in the wind. That minute or so of riding with the herd racing ahead of us is etched in my mind as the most memorable moment of my 1,500-kilometre road trip in Kyrgyzstan.
Until a few months before the trip, I couldn’t even have pointed out with certainty where Kyrgyzstan was on the map. But the lure of a motorcycling trip offering dual sport bikes, great tarmac roads, and scenic dirt trails through a snow-capped mountain range hooked me in.
Until its independence in 1991, Kyrgyzstan was a territory of the U.S.S.R. Riding out of the capital Bishkek, I noticed Soviet influences in the stoic and sombre statues which signified the importance of state above self. In the countryside and smaller towns and cities however there was a palpable sense of a Kyrgyz national identity. This was reflected in the clothes people wore, made of wool, fur, felt, and leather, that represented the country’s nomadic heritage.
Our route was a circuit of Issyk-Kul, one of the world’s largest lakes after Peru’s Lake Titicaca, and the second largest saline lake after the Caspian Sea. Along the way we encountered nomadic traditions that live on here. This included equestrian games for prospective brides and grooms; the use of hunting eagles to catch game for dinner; and heart-warming hospitality. I came away with a sense of having visited a land that stood outside of modern times.