And finally the third starting ground can be reached on foot or by car from the other side. This roundabout access by car takes about two and half an hours along bad roads. The best solution is the wait for the right conditions and fly there from the 600. If you manage to fly over this third start, different horizons open up. You see the crest range towards Issyk-kul, and I believe next year I'll fly it all even if I have to stop for the night along the way, and in the back you see the snowy tips of the glaciers and saddles of the range, just simply sensational natural beauty.



    Despite the access difficulties, in August of last year a championship for the former Russian lands was held here, even with foreign competitors. Alex therefore engaged us, as foreigners, in the promotion of his club and upcoming competitions. We were written about in the newspapers and shot television interviews with us. It was a barrel of laughs. Today already I know that a pilot using a Sharon made by Easy Fly (Czech Republic) acheived second place in the first round and third place in the second round. What followed, I don't know.

    Unfortunately, we didn't have all the time for flying that we would have liked. Our plan was, you see, not restricted to flying. We also wanted to hike in the mountains, then buy two Russian motorcycles with sidecars and cross Kazachstan, Russia, Ukraine, Slovakia and arrive home. And to this plan we had to adapt. It was difficult to find motorcycles in the condition and for the money we imagined. But a far greater problem was the newly adopted visa policy for us for Russia and Belorussia, and this just in the time of our trip. The Russian consulate in Biskek, who could issue visas for us, right away announced that he would not issue them unless we bought airline tickets to Prague. A good problem. We might've even put toghether the money, but definitely not the will. Dark, foreboding clouds swirled in our minds, like bushes on the steppes, with an ominous flash of lighning here and there.



    We turned to the internet and tried the possible and impossible. Friends in Moscow began arranging letters of invitation for us, but that was a long process. People from the Amateur Flight Association sent us a document confirming our participation in an expedition through the former Russian countries of the SFA ( Sky For All), for which I would like to once again thank everyone in the association. But to make sure we really did get the visa, we purchased train tickets from Biskek to Brest in Belorussia, which we sold at a small loss once we obtained the visas. The wolf ate and the goat remained whole. Let the consul go nuts, they had to let us go home. The fact that we wanted to do it on motorcycles, he didn't have to know. The document from the Association later came in handy at various border crossings, where they variously took us for nutcases, bikers or drug smugglers.

    All of the necessary documents were on consuls table, Vovka offered to find us the motorcycles we wanted and so finally we had about five days in which we could take our backpacks and get lost in the mountains.

    We took a bus half-way to Issyk-kul and set out along a dried up river bed towards a canyon about four hours away. At least that's how a friend of Alex's described the way. The large, dry riverbed was suspiciously covered with a layer of dried mud. After about a kilometer we encountered a small brook of water flowing toward us. We shook our heads, but hiked on. The further we went, the narrower the riverbed got, going deeper into a canyon between the hills. These closed in around us more and more, until we had to climb over dangerously steep rocks, over waterfalls and circumnavigate areas that were beyond our strength, and all of this only to once again come back to the little brook that was supposed to lead us to a fantastic place. It was a beautiful red canyon, which was further beautified by the setting sun. The sun had the same color as the canyon. It seemed as if we had just discovered a part of some as yet unknown territory.





    Before we walked down into the canyon, the sun had set. We broke dry branches off the scrub and made a fire. Inchuchuna would have been impressed. In the morning we drew water from the brook and continued on. The canyon was about four hours long and besides the little brook, was without water. All around was only red earth and hard, half-dry grass.

    In our monotonous hiking pace and tiring heat, Libor almost stepped on a snake. The snake rose and at the same moment Libor jumped aside. I don't know what we would have done if the snake had been quicker. We probably would have taken the snake biting into Libor's calf and eaten it. Libor would have somehow limped the rest of the way. The snake sensed our hunger and slithered away.

    Over each mound we expected the valley and the dreamed of river. The mounds seemed to multiply however, and the flies gathered around us, waiting for us to drop. Even the eagles registered our slow steps.

    We knew that along this river we must get back to the trail and so we thought it better to return to it. In contrast with the canyon above, where there weren't even any bushes, let alone a tree to provide shade, here we couldn't get through the growth. We had to wade in the river, break trails through weeds, and more than once had to cross along the cliff above the river to get any further. In this manner we fought through several hours before we saw ahead of us the first car and its trail. A happy end, like in an American movie, followed. We were saved and nothing happened to anyone. Our level of self-confidence flew over last year's maximum, and our faces broke out in smug smiles. We conquered just one more wire bridge and took off to catch some rays at Issyk-kul.