Day #2 How I Caught the Snail

I woke up unnecessarily early. My task was simple—find something resembling a bike shop on the streets of Osh, and get new handlebars. Not so easy. I first found out that grocery stores in Kyrgyzstan usually open at 8 am, and other shops at 9. I had plenty of time to scope out the right spot.

Searching “bike shop” on Google Maps gave me three potential places. Two of them had already been checked by Tomáš Hadámek when we landed in Osh, and I knew there was nothing there. I had just one shot.

I headed out early so as not to waste time in case they opened ahead of schedule. It didn’t look promising at first—no sign of a bike shop. After a while, I spotted a box full of used components, so I had a glimmer of hope. I sat and waited.

I asked a few people if there was a bike shop there, and they nodded. Things were looking up. At 9 am, some kids showed up, started opening up, and rolled kids’ bikes out onto the street. I asked if they had handlebars—they didn’t, but pointed me further down the street.

Sure enough, a few hundred meters on, there was another bike shop. This one looked a bit more serious, and was run by an adult. He didn’t have what I needed either. After installing a Cyrillic keyboard on my phone, we managed to find some place on Google Maps marked as a hardware store. I wasn’t convinced, but when you’re desperate, you’ll grab at anything.

🤑 It’s Not Exactly Brand Name

What I found was a real gold mine. This bike shop wasn’t stocked with the best the market has to offer, but it had almost everything. Handlebars? No problem. Grips? No problem. Multitool? No problem!

The Shunan-brand handlebars didn’t inspire much confidence, but that’s all they had. So I threw out my carbon specials with extra vibration damping (worth about €240) and took the Shunan for €4. One Ergon grip had cracked, wouldn’t hold anymore, so I bought new ones. Brand? There wasn’t even a name. And I picked up a new multitool, since I needed a Torx. So instead of saving one bit, I ended up carrying a second multitool for the whole trip.

I got to work, and with a professional’s hand, swapped the handlebars and all the levers to the new ones. It changed my riding position a bit—I sat more upright, but I didn’t feel like fiddling with it. I wanted back in the race!

On top of that, I broke my aerobridge on the aerobars, where I had my light mounted. I managed to fix it with zip ties and it worked just like new.

I wasn’t happy with the grips—they pressed uncomfortably and I was worried about what my hands would look like at the end of the race. But by now, they were pretty used to rough treatment…

🏁 Once More With Feeling

I didn’t get out of the city right away. I needed lunch and cash. Food was sorted out at the local KFC—I think it was legit. In Kyrgyzstan, there are a lot of “fake” businesses imitating Western chains in look and name. So not every KFC is a real KFC.

Money wasn’t straightforward either. Some ATMs are stingy. I wanted to withdraw about €200, but only got €16. I took the receipt to check how much was actually debited.

At noon, I returned to the main square where we’d started yesterday. 18 hours after everyone else. In theory, I could have taken a taxi back to where I’d left the route, but the road out of Osh was in terrible shape, and during the day I was worried about heavy traffic. At best, I’d save an hour, at worst I’d arrive even later. At this point, there was no point chasing hours. So I decided to ride the first 50 km again—at least I’d have a complete track record, since I’d lost yesterday’s.

It was a different experience. I weaved between cars without a police escort. The traffic was intense, and sometimes I rode on the sidewalk 😉 Well, “sidewalk” …it was just bumpy, packed dirt by the road, which was completely jammed.

Once again, I headed out on gravel paths beyond the city, past the local landfill, which smelled even worse than yesterday. It was hot in the afternoon, so I was grateful when a garbage truck driver stopped and gave me a bottle of water.

Even though the landscape was harsh, I was euphoric. I felt much better than yesterday at the start surrounded by the huge pack. I rode at my own pace and looked forward to whatever lay ahead.

🫣 Being Last Has Its Downsides

Kyzyl-Kiya was one of the last outposts of civilization. Full of wealthy Russians—probably a holiday resort. I didn’t even stop, just kept going. Before entering the mountains, I tried to get some water. I didn’t want to fill up from the river—it was muddy and an unhealthy color. Even collecting from mountain streams was a pain, since I had to filter it. So if possible, I bought water.

Since I was still last, I realized I’d have different experiences – like pillaged village shops, raided by 200 hungry cyclists. Even if they had food left, there was no water. The shopkeeper took pity on me and gave me some from her own stash. I wasn’t sure if I should filter it, but she had that Western “look” so I trusted her and drank up. The water was fine.

A key moment for me was overtaking the snail. What snail? On the tracking map, there was a shell-less mollusk moving at the pace I had to maintain to reach the checkpoint before the cutoff, or my race would be over.

🫸 Oh Garmin, Why?

When I first entered the mountains and lost mobile signal, my Garmin froze again. I was screwed. I knew I couldn’t record the whole route as one file anymore. It just couldn’t handle it. My guess is it died swapping memory, if it could even do that. I had to do a factory reset, losing not only today’s data but also the race route. I couldn’t get the route back into the navigation.

What now? Go back just to get internet and reload the route? No way, I’d be last twice over… Luckily, I’d ridden this part on an acclimatization ride, so I didn’t really need navigation. Up to the next village, it was just straight ahead. Navigation on the Silk Road was pretty simple.

The only nuisance was losing my planned waypoints… well, “mine.” The route was only published after I’d already flown to Kyrgyzstan, so planning wasn’t easy. Clicking it in a mobile app was a pain… and boring. In the end, Tomáš Fabián sent me his waypoints and I convert them for Garmin. Now I only had them on my phone.

💩 Everything Here Is Covered in Crap

I needed to cross a pass at 3,811 meters elevation. Most of the way was rideable, but in the middle there was a tough, steep section with bigger rocks. My original plan was to ride through the night, but that quickly fell apart. I hadn’t slept well in that Osh hotel, and as night fell and I pushed through the rough section, I got incredibly sleepy. I hoped I’d get over it. I popped a caffeine tablet and took a 15-minute nap. Didn’t help. I had no choice but to get some proper rest.

For a moment, I panicked, unsure if I’d make the next CP. I pulled out my brevet card, where the times were listed. “I have to be there by tomorrow at lunch?” That sounded brutal—I shouldn’t sleep! I didn’t realize it was just after midnight. I could sleep twice and still make it by the lunch cutoff.

I found a flat spot among the rocks. Easy enough. But finding a patch of ground without poop—that was another story. There’s poop everywhere in Kyrgyzstan. Big and small, fresh and dry, in the stream and out. Everything is covered in crap. Eventually I found a clean spot. I set up my bivvy for maximum comfort and set my alarm for three hours. Good night.