Overland adventure travel

It is hot but pleasantly so. The sky is brilliant blue, with an odd delicate flimsy white cloud and the faintest whiff of a breeze giving a touch of cool to the heat of the day. Above me, magnificent craggy peaks of high mountains rise from the narrow gully. The steep sides of the mountain are clothed in dark patches of pencil thin stately pines. They stand so tall and straight proclaiming their rightful place clinging to the mountainside. It is summer so only some distant high alps are coated with snow leaving the rest etched against the sky with dramatically sharp outlines showing every little jagged rock in glory.

Beside me is a river giving life and movement to what would otherwise be a flat and emotionless picture postcard.

The river is the heartthrob, of the scene. Torrents of greeny, white, foaming water rushing over everything in its way. Gushing, frolicking, jumping, rollicking, and glistening in the sun. Slithering and sliding over rocks. Spurting up into fountains of sparking droplets and down into swirl-pools of glittering bubbles and foam as it speeds along its downwards way crashing and tumbling in wild abandon.

I sat down on one of the ancient rocks that fringed the river. Rocks covered in lichens of many soft colours that were thriving in the spray from the turbulent flowing water.

Bright golden buttercups and miniature vivid orange dandelions lift their heads to the sunshine while a delicate single bluebell hangs its head in modesty. Around me, bees are lazily hovering in anticipation of the sweet nectar that abounds. The heady herbal and spicy scents of flowers and plants is overwhelming. Beside me, in a rocky cleft, the perfume from a clump of pink thyme instantly brings a slight wave of home nostalgia.

There is only one word to describe where I am, Paradise. I have been to paradise before but this time I am in Paradise spelt with a capital 'P.'

I lie back against the rock as my senses threatened to go into overload. Against the clear blue sky dragonflies flitted aimlessly, an odd butterfly in its flashy finery adds a splash of colour while the dainty delicate moths, with wings glowing iridescently, fluttered in the lazy sunshine. Some ants came out to investigate me but no flies. You cannot have flies in paradise.

No doubt about it I was in paradise. All of my senses were overwhelmed to exotic heights of unbelievable existence. Was it real? Perhaps I had dozed off into a daydream in the drowsy heat. I closed my eyes and reopened them to see and smell the same incredible glorious world.

The sweet subtle scents that wafted all around and the sound of the bubbling vibrant water exaggerated the beauty of the colourful scene.

I took out my water bottle and drained the contents on the grass and then stooped down and filled it with the clear sparkling fluid from the river. I drank the sweetest coolest water. Pure nectar. Who could wish for anything else?

As I wandered further, the gully closed into a canyon. The sound of the water was deafening. The sound appeared to come from both sides of me. I looked upward; perhaps there was a waterfall. Perhaps, if I was in paradise, my hearing was returning to full capacity. Ah! Wishful dreaming. Then I realised that it was the echo of the river reverberating against the rocky cliffs.

This morning I had not anticipated a visit to paradise. In fact, everything pointed to the reverse.

Two nights previous, George and Sue called a truck meeting. I had a feeling something was amiss as we travelled that day. Numerous times George had to stop the truck when talking on the telephone. I had an uneasy feeling that our Silk Road trip might be in jeopardy.

The meeting was at 7pm. There was no easy way for George to tell us the news. Our fantastic, adventurous, and wonderful trip was to have an abrupt end.

Utter silence greeted George's announcement! It was not often that we were all stunned into absolute speechlessness.

George went on to explain that while the process of the Chinese visas had been proceeding according to plan, China now refused to issue visas for our group coming in over the Torugat Pass. They did not explain their decision, simply stating they were issuing no new visas for entry over that pass.

If we liked we could all go back to our home countries and apply there for separate visas or the other alternative was to wait until after the Olympics and reapply! Neither were feasible options.

Weeks previously, we had already acceded to their request when they had refused entry for our truck. To overcome this problem the company had gone to much trouble and expense arranging with an agent in China for us to continue the trip using a Chinese bus and driver.

Like the others, disappointment settled on me like a dull heavy blanket of grey. I had been looking forward to our last six weeks in China with eager anticipation. Our itinerary was extensive and promised to be thrilling and exciting. Now it was over before it had even started. It was too much. I went to bed utterly dejected. To add to my misery I had succumbed to a 24-hour bug that everyone on the bus, except me, had experienced. I thought I was smart and had escaped the plague - but not so.

We were at Karakol in Kyrgyzstan. It is a touristy town but I was having a hard time to see it as anything but very ordinary. The purpose of our three-day stop over was so that we could all go trekking or horse riding in the mountains close by.

The group took off the next day but I had to stay in Karakol, as my energy levels were almost zero. However, I was determined that I would make it the next day. Instead of staying two nights in the mountains, I would walk up one day, stay overnight, and come back with the group the following day.

When I was a child, my mother once told me that one day my determination (actually, she used the term pig headed, but I think determination sounds a little better) would get me into trouble. She may have been right but this time I was going to make that determination work for me so that I did not miss out entirely on the trek.

The day turned out to be something far better than I could have dreamed.

In the morning going out to the start of the trail on the bus, an old person sat down beside me. She could only speak Russian. We were making very basic conversation even although we did not understand each other's language. It is a complicated story but suffice to say it resulted in her blessing me through a young local girl sitting behind us who could also speak English. The blessing was special to me. She did not simply say, "God bless you", she said, "God will bless you today."

I have a strong feeling that blessing explains my trip to Paradise. If I had gone the day before, I would have been with the group and I would never have experienced my personal paradise. If I had gone the day before, I would not have received a special blessing from a gentle old person with such a kind and loving face.

You cannot make paradise happen by saying I am going to see Paradise today. It comes upon you unexpectedly, quietly filling your being and senses with an incredible overwhelming feeling of peace and fulfilment. Usually in quietness by yourself but it can be in the ecstasy of a moment or a shared experience with someone else. It is a spiritual experience. No one else can experience your paradise. Your experience can seem so ordinary to them.

Paradise cannot be prolonged or even re-entered. It happens once. The trek up the mountains will remain forever etched in my memory.

I eventually arrived at the herders cottages where I was able to stay the night. That tiny place of Altyn Arashan also had one other special feature. They had hot springs. Most of the cottages had their own hot baths built in log cabins by the riverside. They were wonderful for soaking and restoring lost energy. I had a double bonus and was able to have a second soak the next morning before I left.

For the return trip to Karakol, everything had changed. A filmy haze of white cloud obscured the blue sky of yesterday. The stately pines were no longer sharply etched against the sky. They were fuzzy and indistinct.

The water was no longer clear but tinged with a muddy content due to heavy rain in the hills overnight.

I was going downhill so I no longer looked upward to the lofty mountains. I was looking down not up!

Ah yes my paradise had gone. To be truthful I think I lost it the night before in a bed that should have been retired (consigned) to the rubbish heap, many years previous.

Another strange thing happened. Friends that came down from a three-day trek, thought my paradise valley was boring after the beauty they had seen.

I kept quiet. I did not want them to spoil my paradise.

Yes, my Silk Road adventure is nearly over.

We have one more night camping at Lake Issyk-Kul on our way back to Bishkek where officially our trip ends.

Our last night was not a sad night. We found a perfect camping site near the lakeside and set up camp. I carried my tent to a spot on the edge of the lake and pitched it where I would see the sunrise. As it was the last time, I made a ceremony of hoisting the New Zealand flag on my tent. Hoisting sounds better than tying it to the top of the tent. It started to blow and Hamish suggested my flag might blow away but I was content. It was the last night so if it blew away it could be a good omen.

As well as a wind, the sky turned inky grey and a rainbow added a brilliant touch of colour. I tried to run and find the elusive pot of gold but one end of the rainbow was in the middle of the lake and the other end in the hills. It did not matter how fast I ran the rainbow kept moving! Ah well, who wants a pot of gold? Our adventures on the Silk Road were worth much more than gold. I had even been to paradise, not the one where the streets are paved with gold, but paradise nevertheless.

The threatening rain never happened; it passed by and in its place a calm and glorious sunset fare-welled our last evening.

As we sat round the campfire after dinner, there was a sense of harmony and empathy over-riding our disappointment at missing China.

I thought back to my apprehension when I joined the trip. I was scared that the group might feel I was an encumbrance. I am almost certain that I they considered me one of the group, age was not a relevant factor. I was able to join in most activities and enjoy their friendship and from time to time, their quips relating to age, were fun.

I did opt out of some group meals but I think they were glad to have me out of the way.

I found that group functions such as meals out where there was a lot of noise; my impaired hearing was a little problem. I could not join in with their jokes so it was easier for all to slip away quietly after a meal.

They made a bit of fun over my drinking problem, water only! Mostly hot boiled water but they never made me feel ostracized for my odd habits.

We were an extraordinary different group of personalities. I was determined to make this trip work and it did. My mother's fears that pig headedness would get me into trouble had worked in reverse.

I have had fun writing about our adventures and I hope I have been able to impart a little of the amazing things I have seen and the fun involved.

Right now, I am planning another 'Oasis Overlander,' for next year. I am not sure where as the choice is extensive. Although we did not get to China the trip has been an unqualified success and already Oasis are planning to make it a permanent fixture next year. Maybe next year I will join up where I left off. Maybe not. Like paradise, there are certain things you cannot repeat.