From the Field: Silk Road Reflections
From the Field: Silk Road Reflections
Words and Photos: Cooper Ray
To begin with, this is by far the most extreme challenge I have ever faced. It has pushed my mental and physical capabilities beyond limits I thought possible. The ride has left me completely empty, eager to be filled with the insight of being wrung completely dry. I have learned much in the past couple weeks.
I will never take for granted my life that I have back home in New York again after spending time here. I miss smells of my trees and familiar lush greenery of the Hudson Valley. Seemingly simple or even mundane aspects of my life, I now lust for like never before as I sit in my guesthouse in Karakol, near Lake Issyk-Kul.
Let me make clear: I have the utmost respect for anyone who has braved the entire SRMR course, or any segment of it for that matter. The terrain here is not to be taken lightly. The finishers are among the top tier of what it means to be human. Respect.
Before arriving back into civilization in the village of Tamga, I was in awe-inspiring wilderness. In the truest sense of the word ‘wild’ this place gives whole new perspective and reality to this term. Upon my arrival in Kyrgyzstan I have never been on any long-term bikepacking trip, or even camping trip longer than a few days in my life. I was going into SRMR with a blind optimism of “trial by fire” or “jumping into the deep end” so to speak, and learn from my experiences here. Boy, did that ever happen and more.
The valleys that lead up to the high mountain passes seem endless. You meander for what feels like eternity through vast river gorges flanked by mountain peaks, only to finally turn a corner to see it continue for as far as the eye can see, steadily upward. Everything is just so big and empty, it’s hard to truly grasp. There’s livestock and wild horses everywhere, and the only people you’ll end up seeing are the occasional horseman and cowboys tending to their cattle. You’ll think you’re completely alone until you see another yurt on the horizon or over the hill. Exchanging a wave or handshake and back on your way into the land of nomads.
The weather can turn at the drop of a hat at high altitude, and you’ll find yourself either running away from a storm, or straight into one. Depending on the altitude, you’ll get cold rain or snow. It will regularly be 90 degrees in the daytime in a sunny valley or as the sun begins to set at high altitude, temperatures will plummet well below freezing overnight. The highest temp I saw on my computer was 104*F and the lowest being 22*F. The weather is unpredictable and the terrain is unforgiving and ever changing. You are truly at the bane of mother earth out here, it’s a very humanizing experience. Immense joy to extreme pain and suffering and all over again multiple times in a day. It’s really something.
A few takeaways from my experience, personally.
1. Moving forward, I want to share my experience traveling with other human beings. I have never experienced such intense loneliness as I did in the Kyrgyz wilderness. Even basic trips, I can now value in a new way, the company of another. This will not be my last solo mission, but I crave sharing experience with others now like never before.
2. I am often a person of extremes. I’m an adrenaline junkie fair and square. I need to push the limit and find things out for myself (and often the hard way) for them to sink in. This took a whole new meaning upon entering the mountains here. From now on, I will cherish newfound pleasure in leisure. I believe I will be able to appreciate experiences, people, situations, et al., for simply what they are inherently or at face value instead of things needing to have an edge or a 'so-what’. I will still enjoy crazy things, don’t get me wrong… but I think I have gained new ground in what satisfaction means to me.
3. It is important to fall flat on your face and fail gallantly. I really thought I’d be able to do this thing, and boy was I wrong. I am in way over my head, and that is OK! I’m not chalking this up as a total failure, let’s be clear. That being said though, I did not have what it takes to complete the race, and there is nothing but plenty of things to learn from that. Try and fail and try and fail and get back up to do it again. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, smarter, and more adept and handling what life may throw your way. The only real failure is to learn nothing from you mistakes.
I was graciously given the opportunity (thanks PEdALED!) to come here to Kyrgyzstan and adventure in the wild, something that many people will never do in their lifetimes (many people I know have brought up this point to me, thank you). A cycling idol and huge source of inspiration put it to me frankly yesterday as I lamented to them the segment of the course I completed and how I couldn’t continue.
“No, you did it! You came out here! Most people would never do that.” -Lael Wilcox
This rings true, half the battle is showing up. I have some serious takeaways that I’ve learned specifically about bikepacking from just being out here that will better equip me for the next adventure. I think the biggest one is bring only what you need. Now, I knew this advice going into this… And I brought (what I though) I needed. Even so, I ended up packing too heavy, and my weight could have been distributed smarter. My bike was loaded too heavy and it made riding unenjoyable. A wise mind once told me: bring only what you need and then cut it in half. Live and learn…
In the end, I am very happy I motivated myself after an early scratch from the race (read my earlier post) to get back out and ride a portion of the route. This proved to be challenging for me, and more than enough of an experience for my level of comfort in camping alone in the wild, my sanity, and my level of expertise. It is important to know what YOUR limits are and respect them.
Whatever adventure big or small you may be on the fence about, or struggling to get started, just go. Get out there, go forth, and make it happen. You are as prepared as you ever will be. Learn from you experiences. If you truly allow yourself to be consumed by wilderness, you will not be disappointed. The vibration of the universe is far louder than your fears.
Words and Photos: Cooper Ray
To begin with, this is by far the most extreme challenge I have ever faced. It has pushed my mental and physical capabilities beyond limits I thought possible. The ride has left me completely empty, eager to be filled with the insight of being wrung completely dry. I have learned much in the past couple weeks.
I will never take for granted my life that I have back home in New York again after spending time here. I miss smells of my trees and familiar lush greenery of the Hudson Valley. Seemingly simple or even mundane aspects of my life, I now lust for like never before as I sit in my guesthouse in Karakol, near Lake Issyk-Kul.
Let me make clear: I have the utmost respect for anyone who has braved the entire SRMR course, or any segment of it for that matter. The terrain here is not to be taken lightly. The finishers are among the top tier of what it means to be human. Respect.
Before arriving back into civilization in the village of Tamga, I was in awe-inspiring wilderness. In the truest sense of the word ‘wild’ this place gives whole new perspective and reality to this term. Upon my arrival in Kyrgyzstan I have never been on any long-term bikepacking trip, or even camping trip longer than a few days in my life. I was going into SRMR with a blind optimism of “trial by fire” or “jumping into the deep end” so to speak, and learn from my experiences here. Boy, did that ever happen and more.
The valleys that lead up to the high mountain passes seem endless. You meander for what feels like eternity through vast river gorges flanked by mountain peaks, only to finally turn a corner to see it continue for as far as the eye can see, steadily upward. Everything is just so big and empty, it’s hard to truly grasp. There’s livestock and wild horses everywhere, and the only people you’ll end up seeing are the occasional horseman and cowboys tending to their cattle. You’ll think you’re completely alone until you see another yurt on the horizon or over the hill. Exchanging a wave or handshake and back on your way into the land of nomads.
The weather can turn at the drop of a hat at high altitude, and you’ll find yourself either running away from a storm, or straight into one. Depending on the altitude, you’ll get cold rain or snow. It will regularly be 90 degrees in the daytime in a sunny valley or as the sun begins to set at high altitude, temperatures will plummet well below freezing overnight. The highest temp I saw on my computer was 104*F and the lowest being 22*F. The weather is unpredictable and the terrain is unforgiving and ever changing. You are truly at the bane of mother earth out here, it’s a very humanizing experience. Immense joy to extreme pain and suffering and all over again multiple times in a day. It’s really something.
A few takeaways from my experience, personally.
1. Moving forward, I want to share my experience traveling with other human beings. I have never experienced such intense loneliness as I did in the Kyrgyz wilderness. Even basic trips, I can now value in a new way, the company of another. This will not be my last solo mission, but I crave sharing experience with others now like never before.
2. I am often a person of extremes. I’m an adrenaline junkie fair and square. I need to push the limit and find things out for myself (and often the hard way) for them to sink in. This took a whole new meaning upon entering the mountains here. From now on, I will cherish newfound pleasure in leisure. I believe I will be able to appreciate experiences, people, situations, et al., for simply what they are inherently or at face value instead of things needing to have an edge or a 'so-what’. I will still enjoy crazy things, don’t get me wrong… but I think I have gained new ground in what satisfaction means to me.
3. It is important to fall flat on your face and fail gallantly. I really thought I’d be able to do this thing, and boy was I wrong. I am in way over my head, and that is OK! I’m not chalking this up as a total failure, let’s be clear. That being said though, I did not have what it takes to complete the race, and there is nothing but plenty of things to learn from that. Try and fail and try and fail and get back up to do it again. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, smarter, and more adept and handling what life may throw your way. The only real failure is to learn nothing from you mistakes.
I was graciously given the opportunity (thanks PEdALED!) to come here to Kyrgyzstan and adventure in the wild, something that many people will never do in their lifetimes (many people I know have brought up this point to me, thank you). A cycling idol and huge source of inspiration put it to me frankly yesterday as I lamented to them the segment of the course I completed and how I couldn’t continue.
“No, you did it! You came out here! Most people would never do that.” -Lael Wilcox
This rings true, half the battle is showing up. I have some serious takeaways that I’ve learned specifically about bikepacking from just being out here that will better equip me for the next adventure. I think the biggest one is bring only what you need. Now, I knew this advice going into this… And I brought (what I though) I needed. Even so, I ended up packing too heavy, and my weight could have been distributed smarter. My bike was loaded too heavy and it made riding unenjoyable. A wise mind once told me: bring only what you need and then cut it in half. Live and learn…
In the end, I am very happy I motivated myself after an early scratch from the race (read my earlier post) to get back out and ride a portion of the route. This proved to be challenging for me, and more than enough of an experience for my level of comfort in camping alone in the wild, my sanity, and my level of expertise. It is important to know what YOUR limits are and respect them.
Whatever adventure big or small you may be on the fence about, or struggling to get started, just go. Get out there, go forth, and make it happen. You are as prepared as you ever will be. Learn from you experiences. If you truly allow yourself to be consumed by wilderness, you will not be disappointed. The vibration of the universe is far louder than your fears.