Karakol meant late nights for me, and people that speak my language (so interesting conversations). Late nights meant a late start today, and a stress-free amble towards the Kazakhstan border.
The steep climb
I soon realised I would not make it before 18:00 when the border closes, so I took my time, and was able choose a camp for the last time in Krygyzstan high horse and yurt country. I had my last Kyrgyz yurt invitation, where I was given fresh milk, bread and honey, and my last view out over Kyrgyzstan.
View from my campsite
arctic-cycler.com 