‘We’ll have eight beers, a jug of fermented mare’s milk and a plate of the horsemeat sausage please.” As après-ski rounds go, it’s an unusual one. But then a truck stop in rural Kyrgyzstan is far from your average slope-side bar. And instead of the Alpine offering of vin chaud, tartiflette and herbal liqueur génépi, it serves Kymyz (also called kumis, a bitter, alcoholic concoction made of horse’s milk) and beşbarmaq (horse sausage served with noodles). The clientele, mostly lorry drivers, seem slightly bemused by our presence, and grin as we take turns trying the strange fare.
But if the restaurants around the Suusamyr Freeride Lodge lack the sophistication of those in Alpe d’Huez, the area makes up for it with the quality of the skiing. Our group of 15 have enjoyed fresh powder every single day. Each morning, we’ve tackled a different zone of the mountain range around our lodge and we’ve come across no one’s tracks but our own.
Kyrgyzstan’s extreme continental climate means that the snow that falls on this former Soviet state is particularly light and fluffy. This, combined with the country’s mountainous geography, makes it something of a paradise for powder-loving backcountry skiers and snowboarders.
Until recently, though, the problem was getting to it. If Kyrgyzstan’s Tien Shan range lags behind the Alps or the Rockies when it comes to après facilities, it’s arguably even more backward in terms of resort infrastructure. There are a few ski hills scattered around but their lift systems, often relics from the Soviet era, are limited. However, in the past few years several pioneering operations have sprung up, offering solutions to this lack of access.
“There are maybe five or six piste-bashers in Kyrgyzstan,” says Azret Daniiarov, owner and manager of Suusamyr Lodge, “and we have two of them.” His lodge is the first (and, so far, only) outfit in the country to offer “cat-skiing” – using modified piste-bashers with passenger cabins to shuttle groups of skiers and snowboarders up the hill. Dubbed “the poor man’s heli-skiing”, the system was invented in North America, where piste-bashers are known as snowcats. It makes perfect sense here in Kyrgyzstan, especially in the broad Suusamyr valley, where relatively gentle slopes make cat access easy.
In fact, the site wasn’t picked with skiing in mind, Azret says. He and his father built the lodge as a paragliding base for the summer season. But their first snowcat, imported three years ago, proved popular with their friends and, last winter, their first full season in operation, they had around six or seven groups from Europe. “Most came from Germany, some from Norway. Some of those Norwegians, they were really crazy,” he laughs.
Like my group, the Germans and Norwegians were doubtless attracted not just by the promise of incredible snow and the sense of adventure, but also by the price. Our group is big enough to fill the place and so the week, including six days’ cat time, food and accommodation, comes to just £620 a head. With flights, the whole adventure costs around the same as an average chalet holiday in the Alps, once lift-passes have been factored in.
Of course, it’s not quite the luxury Canadian cat-skiing experience. The lodge, which Azret helped build himself, is functional rather than stylish. But the rooms are warm and cosy and the central area, with its TV, ping-pong, and table football, is a fun place to spend the evenings.
The food is similarly simple – hearty Kyrgyz fare with lots of rice, noodles and kebabs – but it’s tasty and exactly what you need after a day on the hill. And there are always the three “restaurants” (two of them are little more than shipping containers) clustered around the petrol station down the road, if you fancy an equine-flavoured alternative.
Our evening in the truck stop certainly reinforces how remote Suusamyr is but, of course, that’s why we’re here. If anything, the feeling is more pronounced up the mountain. The cat-access areas that Azret uses on regular rotation offer fairly easy riding and are relatively safe as far as backcountry goes (although carrying avalanche safety equipment and knowing how to use it are essential).
On the penultimate day, however, a small, experienced group of us decide to hike higher than the cat can drive in search of steeper, more challenging terrain. This whole stretch of mountains is so remote that the lines we’re taking are not just unridden this week, they’ve never been ridden by anyone before.
In a more popular (or populous) mountain range, only the very best skiers would get to open up new routes. Yet out here, they’re there for the taking. There are real dangers though. When I trigger an avalanche on the second-to-last run down, it’s a scary reminder of how far we are from home – or the nearest hospital.
If that slide serves as a bit of a wake-up call, it doesn’t put the group off their stride for long. Our final day sees us back in the cat, riding until the sun dips behind the western ridge, but still clamouring for more as we head homewards.
As long as you’re careful, the snow in Suusamyr is simply too good not to enjoy. And if those après shots taste like gone-off yoghurt? Well, at least they’re not génépi.
Way to go
Turkish Airlines flies from London to Bishkek (Manas airport) via Istanbul for £330 return. Visitors to Kyrgyzstan from the UK, US, Australia and most European countries don’t require a visa. The Suusamyr Freeride Lodge can arrange a minibus transfer from the airport (170km) which seats 15 people and is included in the price for the week. Contact Azret Danliarov (azret@fly.kg, +996 550 198 899) at the Suusamyr Freeride Lodge for bookings
