May 9-10
Hello everyone!
After a long, arduous winter, Kazakhstan is now basking in
the warmth and brightness of spring. Buds are finally spurting from their
branches. Flowers are blooming in the parks. Astana’s river, previously a
frozen mass on which one could walk and talk, is now host to a raft of plastic
pedalos.
However, the relatively new capital of Kazakhstan is very
much lacking when it comes to natural
scenery. The trees are planted by the hands of government workers. The
tranquillity of the central park is interrupted by shabby sweet stalls and
run-down rides. Even the river itself has been heavily dammed and manufactured
to weave a certain route through Astana. Though the plans for this city are
ambitious, they often result in taller, shinier and crazier buildings.
Looking beyond the concrete jungle of Astana, a different
picture develops. Kazakhstan possesses an enormous amount of land, and within
its borders are places of stunning beauty. The beauty of Borovoe is a few hours
to the north, and that is where residents in the capital get their fresh air
and forget about urban life. Even Almaty, where we went for this long weekend,
has colourful trees lining each avenue, and you can always see the Tian Shan
mountain range looming to the south of the country’s largest city. Shortly
after landing we scaled one of these peaks to hike around Chimbulak,
Kazakhstan’s premier ski resort. The fact that there was still snow to be found
helps to indicate how high we were.
Yet there is more nature to be found. As you venture further
away from cities and civilisation, you seemingly transport yourself back in
time to the golden age of this country: when it was part of the Silk Road.
Rolling green hills are interspersed with various flora and fauna. Streams
meander gently along shining pebbles. It is easy to imagine a nomadic tribe
wandering along the flat landscape, with animals and caravans in tow.
This all may seem serene, but Kazakhstan holds some
spectacular scenery as well. One of its more extraordinary features is Charyn
Canyon, a mighty gully approximately 200km drive east of Almaty.
Getting there from base involved flying to Almaty, before
getting a more local form of transport east to the canyon. This adventure was
all about perseverance. We had organised the trip through a company called
EIRC, and were due to collect tickets when we landed on Thursday afternoon.
Unfortunately, Thursday was Victory Day – a national holiday – so the phones
rang and rang.
Friday morning rolled around, warm sunshine having replaced
the thunderous rain of the previous day. We decided to pay a visit to their
offices to enquire about the trip we were booked on…to find this.
It seemed that the company had chosen this weekend to
renovate their workplace. Without telling us. This bad news then initiated a
mad scramble around Almaty, involving five taxis, phone calls to people in
Astana, and the enquiry of renting a car to go to somewhere we didn’t know how
to get to.
Two hours after leaving the flat we had rented, we could be
found bartering with drivers near the bus station, with an elderly man called
Roma eventually answering our prayers and setting off in his clapped-out car. A
car which, by some miracle, survived the journey to and from Charyn. Each
shudder over a pothole (you can see how deep they were below) had us expecting a puncture, and only the loud music
from his stereo could drown out the mysterious squeaking noise emanating from
the rear of the vehicle.
That was when we were actually travelling on road. After
about 3 hours, during which time the landscape transformed immeasurably, our
suffering carriage veered left onto a dusty gravel track. There was no sign
post, or no indication that the canyon was close. There is no way we would have
known to go this way if we had been driving ourselves, rendering any notion of
renting our own car as irrelevant. Roma, who may have been regretting taking on
the challenge at this juncture, bumped and bobbled the car along the winding
path, often having to jerk her back into first gear and toss us around in the
back seats.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a dip in the relief of the land
appeared in the distance. A significant dip. In front of us lay a canyon that
has existed for over 300,000 years.
The ‘Grand Canyon of Kazakhstan’, as some have taken to
calling it, has a series of rock formations balanced precariously over its
precipice. The dusty, reddish colour seems to add to an atmosphere of a place
belonging to a previous era, when nomads would have led their horses along this
frontier in search of…well, anything really.
As well as peering over the edge, you can also walk through
stroll within the gorge. Many of the walls that loom large to the sides are not
as stable as they appear on first glance, and some of the isolated rocks are
prone to crumbling at the slightest touch. It makes it all the more remarkable
that this place has survived the effect of the winds blustering across the
steppe, and how they in turn must have shaped this most breathtaking piece of
Kazakh land.
If the Kazakh government want tourists to enter the country,
they might want to improve the professionalism of the tour companies – not all
tourists would persevere like we had to. They could also do no worse than to
champion their natural beauty. You can build an innumerable number of wacky
towers in the capital, but just as many people would be very content with
experiencing the magnificent – and real – scenery that the countryside has to
offer. The Tian Shan mountain range and Charyn Canyon would be great places to
start.
Love you all,
Matt
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