Acclimatization Ride

Four bikepackers stand on a gravel road in a vast, arid mountain landscape under a bright blue sky with scattered white clouds. The two closest cyclists are on the left, one with a yellow shirt and a bicycle laden with gear, and the other facing away. To their right, two other individuals, possibly a parent and child, are also next to bikes. The road stretches into the distance, flanked by golden-brown, rolling hills on the left and a flatter, greener valley with a stream on the right. In the background, majestic, rugged mountains with shades of grey, brown, and some snow-capped peaks rise dramatically.

One does not simply ride the Silk Road Mountain Race. If you head beyond the borders of your home country—or even your home continent—it’s smart to acclimatize. Here in Kyrgyzstan, the most important thing was getting used to the high altitude. But that wasn’t the only part. We had to sleep off the jet lag, figure out what the shops sell, learn what the roads look like, and how to actually communicate with locals. Trying to figure all that out only once the race started would’ve been way too stressful.

That’s why we came ten days early, and on the very first evening we set off into the nearest mountains, climbing higher and higher. We just wanted to get out of the city, where the stench was unbearable.

We had a very vague plan—cross the mountain range south of Osh and reach the first base camp under Lenin Peak, which also happened to be the first checkpoint of the race. And beyond that? We hadn’t planned that far ahead—remember from the last chapter—we had it pretty much “whatever, we’ll see”.

⛰️ Sleeping on Sněžka

Around half past eleven at night, we stopped at about the same elevation as our Czech Sněžka and laid down on a flat patch of ground. For the first time, I tested my whole sleeping setup in one go:

Bach Heads Up Bivy — which I got about 14 days before departure and only pitched once in the garden.
Nemo Tensor Extreme Wide — an extremely insulated, tough (and heavy) sleeping pad I borrowed. I’ll admit, it felt like sleeping on a featherbed.
Cumulus X-lite 200 — my classic go-to bag I bring everywhere.

Around Osh there’s a heat island, so cold wasn’t an issue. The real problem turned out to be that I’d come on this trip with a bunch of night owls, who each morning got up painfully slowly like they’d been clubbing all night. I’m used to waking up at 6 a.m. sharp, happy to pack up before the sun starts roasting me alive. That big yellow ball in the sky is my sworn enemy.

The next day we didn’t set off until 10! The others still wanted to take photos of their bikes for the Rigs of Silk Road Mountain Race on bikepacking.com. I refused—I didn’t want to follow a million rules about what the photo should look like, and I wasn’t in the mood to describe my gear all over again.

🏙️ Not All Roads Lead to Rome

The guys bombed down some random steep path, convinced that a road that wide had to lead somewhere. Well, it didn’t—so we had to climb back up. Then the two Tomášes suggested ditching the road entirely and bushwhacking straight up the hill, and that’s when I realized this acclimatization might actually be harder than the race itself. Luckily Tony won rock-paper-scissors, so we stuck to the human-friendly path.

In that heat I was barely moving, and we weren’t even that high up. How the hell am I going to survive this whole thing?

Once we crested the main climb, the brutal gradients stopped, and the road leveled out into something more reasonable. Soon after, we got our first acclimatization test—shopping in a forgotten little village. The store was tiny but self-service. The selection wasn’t broad, but everything came in XXL size. Huge ice cream. Huge Snickers. Huge Bouty. Giant packs of gas station croissants. Honestly, resupplying here looked tricky, because I had no idea what to even buy!

A gloved hand holds a brown packet of "Choco Court Ice Cola" instant powder mix. The packaging features a bottle of cola surrounded by ice cubes, with "Cola" written prominently in English and Cyrillic script. Text below indicates it's a "Fruit Flavoured Instant Powder Mix" and "9g makes 1.5 lt". A "Vitamin C" icon is visible in the top right. The background is an out-of-focus outdoor setting with light-colored ground. — Šuměnka

A first-person, eye-level shot shows a gloved hand holding a Snickers Super candy bar against a backdrop of a light gray, gravelly dirt road. The candy bar, partially opened on the right side, has "SNICKERS" in blue letters on a white background and "SUPER" in red letters on a white background. The glove is dark grey with red accents, and a shadow of a person and what appears to be a selfie stick is visible on the bottom right. — Super Snickers

A person holds up a packaged ice cream bar with a polar bear illustration against a blurry background of dirt ground and a distant fence. The package has text in Cyrillic letters, including "ПЛОМБИР" (Plombir) and "БАЛМУЗДАК МОРОЖНОЕ". — Super icecream

Then came the next challenge—finding a local restaurant. At the first one, a man kept repeating “zakryté, zakryté” and waved us elsewhere. He guided us to another, asked a few questions, then told us—also zakryté. Thankfully his local knowledge was endless, because he led us to a third spot that was actually open. We got a delicious fried fish with bread. No worries about freshness—they literally killed it in front of us.

A trip to the outhouse also taught me that local toilet paper doesn’t have a tube!

A man in a yellow shirt sits at an outdoor table, holding an orange smartphone connected by a white cable, possibly charging it, while a plate of fried fish with onion rings, a stack of bread, and a white bowl are on the checkered tablecloth. — Fried fish

An outdoor, eye-level shot captures a partially open, homemade wooden door made of particleboard, revealing a dark interior of a cinder block structure. The door, framed with simple wood and secured with a metal latch and hinges, is slightly ajar to the left. The sun casts a bright beam of light on the ground and lower door frame, highlighting wet patches on the concrete threshold. The ground outside is covered in small, grey and black gravel. A narrow plank of particleboard, seemingly detached, lies on the gravel in the lower right foreground. — What goes in…

An indoor scene depicts a concrete room in disrepair, likely a utility area or bathroom in a developing country, with a large PVC pipe leaning against a gray block wall. A rusty bucket filled with crumpled paper and plastic sits next to the pipe. On the wall, two square openings in the blocks reveal a roll of toilet paper in one and a piece of cloth in the other. A red and white plastic bottle lies on its side on the concrete floor, which is stained with water marks and has a deep, narrow trench with rough edges running across it. The trench appears to be a drainage channel, showing dark, possibly muddy water and debris within. — …must come out

🖤 Dig Your Own Coal

Somewhere in the mountains, we spotted a “camping spot” marked on mapy.cz and decided to head there. It was at around 2200 meters—perfect for easing into acclimatization.

The road itself wasn’t bad in terms of surface or gradient, but it turned out to lead to a coal mine. Trucks kept passing us, kicking up clouds of dust. I pulled up my buff to keep from inhaling too much. Even the shepherds driving their flocks wore masks.

A first-person view selfie from a bikepacker on a dusty mountain road under a cloudy sky. The person, wearing a white helmet with an action camera mounted, sunglasses, a neck gaiter covering their mouth and nose, and a plum-colored long-sleeve shirt with a hydration vest over it, looks directly at the camera. Sweat stains are visible on their shirt and vest. In the background, another cyclist in yellow is visible further down the dirt road, flanked by steep, rocky mountains on both sides. Utility poles and lines run along the right side of the road.

A dusty, unpaved mountain road winds through a narrow valley, flanked by steep, rocky slopes covered in sparse green vegetation. Power lines stretch across the cloudy sky, and a distant dump truck kicks up a cloud of dust as it navigates a turn in the road. In the far background, jagged mountain peaks rise under a grey sky with hints of blue.

Closer to the end things quieted down. Sometimes we saw people stop their cars by a coal vein, hop out with a pickaxe, and hack off a load for themselves. We rolled into the campsite at 9 p.m.—and there was even a shelter! But the Tomášes and I still set up outside—we wanted to test our gear in the rain. Of course, it only sprinkled a bit, then nothing.

A shipping container, weathered white with rust streaks, is propped on old tires on a grassy patch. Beneath it, a dark pile of what appears to be coal or charcoal is scattered, with larger lumps visible. A clear plastic bag lies on the grass near the dark pile on the left, and a small axe with a wooden handle rests on the right side of the charcoal. The ground is a mix of green grass and dirt.

The next day we “set off” at 10:30! I used the downtime to scramble up the nearby hills. My Shimano SH-EX700 touring shoes were perfect here—I was glad I hadn’t brought stiff carbon-soled race shoes, or I would’ve eaten it fast.

🐄 Animal Farm

I started to understand the lay of the land here. Most roads cut through endless valleys, with steep slopes climbing up on both sides. Livestock—mostly cows and sheep—was everywhere. Free-roaming horses too, happily grazing.

But it wasn’t exactly an animal paradise. Sometimes we’d find a half-eaten dead sheep or cow by the roadside. Some horses had their front legs tied so they couldn’t trot, or were chained to the ground. And when carrying a fat tourist, they could barely even stop for a drink.

A wide mountain valley with steep, rocky slopes, mostly bare but with patches of sparse vegetation and scattered evergreen trees. The rock faces range from light beige to deep reddish-brown. In the foreground, large boulders sit on the right, and a dense line of dark green trees fills the bottom of the valley. A bright blue sky with scattered white clouds is visible above the mountains.

A wide shot of a valley with towering, rugged mountains on either side under a clear blue sky. A large herd of black and brown yaks grazes and walks through the rocky, sparse terrain of the valley floor, which also has patches of green grass and a small stream on the left. In the distance, between the mountains, a faint outline of a person and what might be a bike are visible.

That night we stayed in a yurt camp at 3000 meters. Still a gradual climb? Maybe. The altitude was starting to hit me, though I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just the heat. Shade was impossible to find, and the sun was brutal. Luckily the road followed a stream, so cooling off was easy.

Three bikepackers ride along a rocky, dirt road next to a rushing river, with steep, tree-covered mountains rising on both sides under a clear sky. A metal pipe supported by wooden structures spans across the river on the right side of the image.

At the yurt camp we still had time, so we pushed higher before coming back down. I made it to 3500 meters before I was completely done. Nausea hit me hard. I told the others to keep going, but I turned back.

Two traditional white yurts stand in a vast mountain valley under a bright blue sky with scattered clouds. The yurt in the foreground is larger and closer, with a brown wooden door featuring intricate black decorative patterns. The smaller yurt is to its left and further back. Towering mountains, some with visible scree slopes and others with green grassy patches, surround the valley. A narrow river or stream can be seen winding through the valley floor in the distance. The ground is a mix of dry dirt and patches of green grass, suggesting a high-altitude, possibly semi-arid, environment common on bikepacking routes.

💊 Will Drugs Help?

Before the trip I tried taking Ginkgo biloba, which some studies claim can ease altitude sickness. Either it didn’t work, or I was just lucky my symptoms weren’t worse. According to Wikipedia, the classic signs of acute mountain sickness are:

loss of appetite, vomiting
insomnia
fatigue or weakness
dizziness
lethargy
unsteady gait
frequent urination, combined with reduced thirst (a dangerous combo that can cause dehydration)

Apart from the frequent peeing, I basically checked all the boxes.

Two weeks before the flight, I’d also been taking probiotics, something I usually do before any race. Ultras are often a battle of the gut.

🏕️ I Underestimated Food

At the yurt camp we met two Polish travelers—Dominika and Ania—with whom we had an “interesting duel” the next day. We had no concrete plan to get to the other side of the mountains, but after checking the map, we realized there was only one reasonable route—straight over Jiptick Pass. Tony then remembered that this pass had already been part of a Silk Road Mountain Race. I looked up what was written about the pass we chose for gradual acclimatization in Kyrgyzstan:

What was probably already one of the hardest passes ever to be included in this race, was recently turned into a real test of character and will power by a massive landslide that has added some really steep hike a bike to avoid a dangerous section of loose scree.

Riders pushed, carried and generally forced their bikes over this 4185M monster for most of the day. Some riders said this was not hike a bike but rather push up a bike, with arms and shoulders aching more than their legs.

In translation—it was ridiculously high and ridiculously hard. We knew it was high, of course. Probably not the best acclimatization technique, but we simply had to get over that hill. No excuses.

At the yurt we had dinner. I offered the tiny piece of meat I got to Tomáš Fabián, who risked it happily. My food was running low, but I still had one ramen for tomorrow. Ania took pity on me and gave me a carrot-cake-flavored bar, which she claimed was so disgusting she would rather starve.

A high-angle shot shows several people gathered around a meal spread on a patterned rug indoors. In the foreground, a person in black clothing holds a smartphone and a small, dark object. Their legs are visible, one covered in a black shiny fabric, the other in a grey puffy material.

The center of the image is dominated by a floral tablecloth on which numerous small white plates are arranged, each holding a salad with visible ingredients like sliced cucumbers and what appears to be a creamy dressing. Among the plates, there are several small glass bowls filled with dark jam or preserves. A large, translucent red container with a lid sits in the middle, likely holding a main dish. To its left, a white teapot is visible.

In the upper right, a stack of white bowls and an orange teapot or carafe are placed near two people whose legs are visible; one wearing light blue socks, and another with folded knees holding the stacked bowls. To the far right, a colorful, quilted mat or sleeping pad with red, yellow, and green patterns lies on a blue surface, extending upwards towards the top of the frame. The overall scene suggests a communal meal in a relaxed, indoor setting. — There were more courses

My head still hurt, so I tried aspirin. I also felt a mild fever. We didn’t sleep inside the yurt but built our own shelters to practice setup and packing. By night it was a bit cold, so I put on warmer socks and my Alpha Hoody from Nalehko. It helped, though…

🤕 Altitude Hits

I still didn’t sleep well, at least according to my Garmin. I also checked my oxygen levels with a pulse oximeter—it showed around 86%. Not great. When the night got chilly, I noticed another inconvenience with my bivy. Even though it wasn’t a full bag, water condensed inside. Not terrible, but especially around my feet there was enough. Whenever possible, I kept the bivy as open as I could to vent the “steam”.

In the morning, the whole yurt camp was waking up. Finally, we set off at a more reasonable time, shortly after eight. I had breakfast first. Different groups climbed toward Jiptick Pass. Besides us and the Polish tourists, there was an Israeli group and someone with luggage transport. Strangely, half of the people seemed either unemployed or bankrupt.

A wide shot of a valley at sunrise, showing a group of bikepackers setting up camp. In the foreground, two tents are visible on a grassy patch, one yellow and one blue, with a large white tarp structure next to them. Several bikepackers are tending to their gear and bicycles scattered on the ground. In the midground, a stream winds through a wide, rocky valley floor flanked by steep, treeless mountain slopes. The background reveals distant peaks, with the highest points touched by the golden light of the rising sun, under a clear blue sky. — Somewhere up there is Jiptick Pass

As for marking the route, of course there was none. We probably should have asked in the yurt camp. According to the map, there were two trails. If you’ve seen my video about mapy.cz, you know there are two types of unpaved paths—dashed ones and dotted ones. Dashed is gravel-like, dotted is Mordor for tourists, often just a narrow trail. We thought—let’s try the wider one—it’ll be better for the bikes. Wrong!

This path was blocked by a massive rock avalanche. I reached it still in decent spirits. Up to 3500 meters I was struggling. Short of breath, feeling like a bee in a nose. Then it leveled off briefly, which had nothing to do with the slope. But then came the avalanche…

I was slightly ahead and tried to cross it alone. Big mistake. Suddenly, the rocks under my feet started shifting, and I was holding on more by sheer will than by muscle mechanics. I felt like a wizard. A powerless wizard. So I turned back.

🥾 They Spread Us on the Bread

Tomáš Hadámek wasn’t afraid and climbed almost vertically up the loose wall. I wasn’t about to do that. Luckily, Tomáš Fabián found a very narrow path along the scree wall, barely passable. Then we just carried the bikes over the remaining larger rocks, which were more stable. We reached Jiptick Pass after about five hours. Over 10 kilometers we climbed 1300 meters. From the top, you could clearly see the other trail was much easier.

Probably not the best idea…

Three male bikepackers take a break on a rocky mountain slope. Two men stand by their bikes, one in a red jersey and the other in a yellow jersey, both wearing helmets. A third man in an orange top and black helmet sits on the ground with his bike next to him. All bikes are loaded with bikepacking gear. A vast, barren mountain face dominates the background under a clear sky. — The worst behind us

I dragged myself up with the last of my strength. If all the passes in the race looked like this, I wasn’t sure how I’d manage. And it was nice weather. I couldn’t imagine doing this in bad conditions. My head hurt, and I couldn’t even push the bike straight.

A vast mountain landscape under a clear blue sky. In the foreground, rocky, barren slopes drop steeply into a deep valley. A winding trail is visible along the valley floor, which is covered in sparse green and gray vegetation. In the midground, layers of mountains stretch into the distance, appearing hazy and less defined. Far in the background, a majestic range of snow-capped mountains stands out against the horizon, their white peaks contrasting with the pale blue sky and the distant, hazy landscape of what might be a large body of water or a very flat plain. — It really looks like a cloud!

The views at the top were stunning. I didn’t even realize I was seeing a seven-thousander for the first time. These mountains were so high I thought they were clouds.

I headed down first. At that altitude, I felt sick and needed to descend. That was tricky. The terrain was so tough I’d hardly ride it under normal conditions. Now, with a spinning head and no balance, I didn’t dare ride and pushed a significant part.

On the other side of Jiptick Pass, the Polish girls already had their tent set up. They were faster not only uphill but also managed the descent. Tony had it toughest, carrying the most gear and having to ferry some bags separately over the scree avalanche.

A wide shot of a yurt camp nestled in a vast, dry valley, with towering, rocky mountains in the background under a clear blue sky. Five yurts are visible, scattered on the grassy ground beside a narrow, winding stream. On the left, two yurts stand close together, with a bright blue tarp laid out in front of them. In the center, a person stands between two yurts. To the right, another large yurt, partially covered by a blue tarp, has several people gathered around its entrance, seemingly setting it up. Furthest right, a larger yurt stands with a wooden door. A small, rustic wooden bridge crosses the stream in the foreground. The overall scene suggests a remote, mountainous region, likely a stop on a bikepacking adventure.

🚸 Got a Handshake?

The yurt camp was at 3200 meters. The guys went down to town to resupply, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I took another aspirin to ease my headache, but it didn’t help much. Altitude hit me hard, yet I still believed I could finish the race. Even if I had to crawl to the finish. Fact was clear—I’d hit 4200, and the race wouldn’t have higher passes. There we’d barely crest 4000.

Right next to the yurt camp was a stream for refilling water. Filtering was tedious. I had a Katadyn BeFree with carbon filter, but I removed the carbon—it was too slow. Filling the hydration bladder was tricky with limited limbs. Probably just my competitive spirit. Hannes said his is fast, but that’s just perception. Later in the race I decided to filter water in the bladder using disinfection tablets and directly to bottles via Katadyn. Having instant water was a clear advantage.

For the day, I rode 19 km. You could say I took it easy.

That night I slept poorly again. Waking, high pulse, high everything except quality sleep. The next day had no major passes.

In Kyrgyzstan, especially in villages, people—especially kids—love seeing travelers. They had a routine: waving, calling “hello,” wanting to high-five. When we stopped, they wanted a handshake, our names, and where we were from. If you lingered too long, they’d inspect your stuff. They spoke a mix of English and Russian.

🚮 Where to Put Trash?

We descended to Sary-Mogol. After three nights, we finally had internet! In those valleys, signal is nearly non-existent. Well, at one point, on top of Juptick Pass, there was some, though slow.

Two bikepackers ride their mountain bikes with gear down a wide, winding dirt road through a vast, grassy mountain landscape under a clear blue sky. In the foreground, the bikepacker on the right wears a yellow top and black shorts with a black backpack, their bike laden with bags on the front and rear. To their left, another bikepacker in an orange top and black shorts with a white backpack follows, also with gear-laden bike. Further down the road, a third, smaller figure on a bike is visible. The landscape features rolling brown and green hills, with a dramatic range of blue mountains visible in the hazy distance under a sky with a few scattered white clouds.

We tried another shop—not self-service. We had to tell them what we wanted, making choices harder. The lady eventually gave up and let us behind the counter.

Shops weren’t that bad. They had bulk items—dried fruit, nuts, even cookies that were decent. I bought some fizzy water, bread, and cheese. Selection wasn’t bad at all.

Waste was trickier. There were practically no bins. Later I learned about a box system. Outside or inside the shop, there was a box for trash from purchases. Likely burned or dumped in a field. In Osh, these boxes were bigger. I could even identify bike shops by the boxes, full of chains, cranks, and used components.

That night we aimed for 3500 meters—our maximum. Then it was time to start regenerating. No point overdoing it before the race. Even during the race, I never planned to sleep that high—I always wanted to descend a bit. I already felt pretty trashed.

🚖 Taxi with Locals

Night was rough, morning too. We got to Lenin Peak base camp, future CP1. Food overpriced, hinting at things to come. The guys wanted to hit Traveller’s Pass, just above 4000, which I flatly refused. I lay down behind a yurt. No one could get me higher!

A bike equipped for bikepacking, featuring a rear seat bag, frame bags, and a handlebar bag, stands on a gravel road in a vast, dry, grassy plain. In the background, majestic snow-capped mountains stretch across the horizon under a clear sky with scattered clouds.

I was so tired I weakly and cynically protested their suggestion to return via the race route. Eventually we agreed it wasn’t wise and shortened the route, taking a taxi for the rest.

Along the Pamir Highway, we slowly returned to the mountains. Halfway we slept on prickly plants, but the mat held, and we continued the next day. In a village, we met Hannes, whose bike had already arrived. It was easy to run into other Silk Road Mountain Race participants.

This was lucky for us—we could ask how transport worked. At Lenin Peak base camp, we were offered a ride for insane (here, non-Muslim) money, which we declined. The cheapest way to travel here is by maršrutka—a small bus that leaves when full. No bike hooks, but buying an extra seat usually works; the driver will likely accommodate.

Interesting how in the West we’re bound by rules that give structure and safety but often limit us unnecessarily. Try sneaking a bike on a bus at home. Impossible! In Kyrgyzstan, it’s about agreement and willingness.

😪 Let’s Regenerate

We climbed to Koydzhuly Pass—if that’s its name. Mapy.cz has it; Google doesn’t. The ascent was easy, descent interesting. So interesting I crashed. Tony rushed over with a med kit huge enough to fit mine five times. Nothing serious, just a banged-up knee. Maybe bent the handlebars, don’t know.

We descended to 2500, so sleep improved. Not sure sleeping on fallen rocks was wise, but we didn’t want to go further. On the map it was marked as suitable for camping. Before evening, strange clouds raced by, but it ended up calm and fairly warm. The stream sang us a lullaby.

Marika from Latvia Marika slept with us, giving us some nice photos 👇

A person on a bike is riding on a rocky, unpaved path through a mountain valley. The sun shines brightly on the right side of the path, illuminating the mountainside, while the left side is in the shadow of a towering, steep mountain. Scattered green trees grow on the mountainsides. The person is wearing a helmet and a red shirt, and the bike has gear strapped to the handlebars.

Two bikepackers ride their loaded bicycles on a rocky, unpaved mountain track. The trail is surrounded by steep, arid, and rocky mountain slopes with some sparse green bushes and trees. The sky is clear blue.

A sunny shot of a mountain biker in a red and yellow long-sleeved jersey and red helmet, riding a turquoise bike with bikepacking bags on a rocky dirt road. The rider is looking forward and is positioned slightly to the right of the frame, casting a shadow to their left. Behind them, another biker is visible further up the road. The road is surrounded by large rocks and leads into a valley with towering, rugged mountains on both sides, and a clear blue sky above.

A wide shot of a cyclist riding a mountain bike on a rocky, unpaved road through a deep, rugged mountain valley. The valley walls are steep and high, with visible rock formations and sparse vegetation. The sunlight illuminates the upper parts of the mountains, creating a stark contrast between light and shadow. In the distance, more mountains rise under a clear blue sky.

In short, we descended to civilization and got a taxi. Worked like a maršrutka—shared with other passengers until full, with space for bikes, making it more comfortable. Four bikes wouldn’t fit in a normal, cheap maršrutka.

In Osh, we reserved two nights for recovery—probably should’ve taken three. Nothing stopped us from starting this adventure on the Silk Road Mountain Race.