Death Hike to Ala Archa

I thought the hike to Ala Archa would be a good idea. The April weather has been beautiful, the park is only an hour away from Bishkek, and I was keen to escape the city. Plus, I always meet interesting and like-minded people on my outings with the Trekking Union of Kyrgyzstan. It should have been a win all around!

When you arrive at Ala Archa National Park, you pay 70 soms (about $1.15) for day pass and park in the village at the entrance. After walking through a wooded pathway, you are greeted by a stunning river valley spreading out before you, with another canyon winding away to the left. The river valley is green, shady and cool-looking, not to mention flat. The canyon to the left is exposed, windswept – also stunning, of course – and promises an ascent from 1500 meters to 2500+ meters. Our group went to the left.

I felt a little unlike myself during the first thirty minutes of our hike. It was difficult to breath and I felt winded much more quickly than I usually do. I determined that the two weeks in Batken with limited exercise plus no practice on inclines (I run around the boring track at the National Stadium) were to blame. Thus, I trekked on.

After about three hours, my head started to hurt, my legs felt drained of strength, and I kept losing my balance. I decided that it was time to take an extended break and found a comfortable rock to park myself on. I listened to the birds and the wind and enjoyed the sun. I promptly fell asleep. I woke after indeterminate amount of time to find myself alone and decided to push myself a little further. My head still hurt and I had to pause ever ten minutes to catch my breath and rest my legs. After completing an ascent and seeing yet another – snowy – ascent before me, I threw in the towel and found another rock. I fell asleep again.

After what I can only guess was an hour, my group began to descend. They had reach the base camp for the Komsomol Summit, which is located in a snowy mountain valley with views of a beautiful glacier and mountains stretching into the distance in all directions. In my dumb state, I didn’t feel that I’d missed anything and pointed out that, from my rock, I also had a good view. We descended together.

My headache began to increase during our hike down and, when we reached the village at the entrance to the park, it was a full-blown, pounding, nausea-inducing headache. I considered the wisdom of vomiting in front of all these people I had just met and wondered, briefly, if I might die there on the pavement in front of them all. I tried not to moan out loud. Someone gave me a jacket. A blessed Russian girl handed me a pain tablet, which I drank with apple juice. More desire to vomit.

On the road back to Bishkek, the road descends quickly. I felt better the closer we got to the city, either from the reduced altitude, the pain tablet, or both. By the time I got home, I felt myself again, though with immobile legs and the weird bruised and befuddled feeling that follows a massive headache. One day later, after eleven hours of sleep and lots of water I feel good, if very, very tired.

What happened to me on that hike? I can’t decide if it was the altitude, the sun, dehydration or – perhaps most likely – a combination of all three. I’ve never felt so ill on a hike before. Still, I’m prepared to try again – next time on a more moderate hike. That flat river valley hike did look very nice.

Favorite Pictures from Batken, 4/1-4/13

The Return to High School (Someone should Make a Movie about This)!

I found this old blog post sitting in my unpublished drafts folder and thought it was too curious not to share. So, now you can read about my not-so-grand return to my high school back in November! How interesting . . .

Today, I went back to high school. It's been about ten - no, TWELVE! - years - since I graced the halls of EHS and at least two things have changed. The driveway is now called "Wolfpack Way" (or something like this). There is a drive-through Starbucks and Taco Time (or equally ubiquitous fast food restaurant) at the entrance to the parking lot. And, yet, much has stayed the same. Kids still clustered outside by the flagpole and in the entrance hall. The girls still wore too much make-up and inappropriate clothes (leggings are NOT pants! how long can this horrible trend persist?!). The boys still look short, gawky, and uncomfortable in their skin.

Though I guess that, when I was in high school, I didn't think that the girls were dressed inappropriately. I probably would have wished for a pair of my own leggings, only to be deterred by my father who would have never let me out of the house without proper pants. And, I probably thought that the short, gawky boys were cute because, well, I was also short and gawky.

Anyway, I digress. I went back to high school today, and it wasn't to assess the similarities and differences. I had the opportunity to meet with some pretty cool kids who are interested in international issues.

I had an idea! The Fulbright program is about international exchange and, with this in mind, I had the idea that I'd like to partner with a local high school while abroad. You know, to exchange ideas with some of the youth back at home. Luckily, I have an "in" with the kids - my former 9th grade Social Studies teacher now teaches World History at the very high school that I attended back in the day. He's also the advisor for the Global Action Project and leads a group of youth who are trying to learn more about global issues, engage their classmates in global issues, and - ahem - earn extra credit. So, I developed a rough plan and today I met with the youth. When I arrived, they were a total of three (one later wandered it). Only one of the kids really spoke - I presumed him to be the unofficial leader. One of the other silent kids kept staring at the clock, which was a little awkward since the clock was behind me and I was sitting directly in front of him. Toward the end of our meeting, I asked if they had any questions. They didn't. They seemed eager to leave.

I think I'd forgotten what it was like to be in high school and be more interested in your evening tennis practice and that rude post about your on Facebook (which didn't exist in my day, but we DID have the school website created by some anonymous wag - there was a "hot" list and a "not" list for senior girls; I was on the "not" list, which created endless opportunities for angst) than in international issues and the world beyond your sphere. Still, I'm inspired that such a club exists.

As an update, my plan was to send monthly video updates on life in Kyrgyzstan to the International Club at my former high school. Alas, this was a plan that was too good to act on. All conversation with the students and my former teacher has ceased and I haven't really had time to put together video communications. As it turns out, field research takes a lot of time! As a sad alternative, I can only hope that one of those students - probably the unofficial leader - stumbles across my blog, finds the posts about Kyrgyzstan interesting, and decides to take action himself. My door is always open and my couch is not too uncomfortable, should he develop an interest in visiting. In which case, he can make his own video updates to send back to the high school club.