Ile Alatau National Park

In which Adam and I have our closest encounter with police/border guards. 

We were planning on an overnight trip in the national park just south of Almaty. I read before the trip that propane-butane canisters were hard to come by in Central Asia so I flew with my trusty white gas stove. We spent a few hours trying to figure out what Russians call white gas and then find it in the city. With no luck, a liter of gasoline was easily purchased from a nearby gas station. The attendant was even kind enough to keep the portion I couldn't fit in the fuel tank. 

Now we had to get to the park. The attendant motioned us to flag down a taxi in front of the gas station. We roasted in the sun for 20 minutes and only one marked taxi passed us. We looked back at the attendant forlornly. He enthusiastically flapped his hand again in the international hailing motion. Then it dawned on us. 

Every car in Almaty is a potential ride share. We started to notice how many locals shared their rides with strangers. That explained the scarcity of taxis! Name a place and price, get in. Easy. And faster than waiting for the uber driver to show up.

We quickly made our way to the trailhead by no fewer than three separate cars. Some drivers actively looked for passengers as if it was their full-time job. The "trail" was a supply pipeline for Russian hydroelectric station fed by Big Almaty Lake. 

We followed this pipe, sometimes next to it, sometimes on top of it, until we got to the dam. We sat down tiredly. I noticed a guard sling his assault rifle over his shoulder as he stood up from his guard post. I remembered that we were extremely close to the Kyrgyz border, and that the guards were notorious for stopping folks. 

"Adam, it's been a great trip," I said, "but that might change right now. Let's make sure we have our passports out. Here he comes"

The guard didn't look like he was enjoying the heat either. He put his rifle at his feet and sat down between us on the dam. He tried a couple times to make himself understood in Kyrgyz and Russian. He checked our papers and made vague complaints about the accuracy of our visas, looking for something to bust us for. Then he took out his phone and opened Google translate. He typed and handed it to me.

YOU ARE ON FORBIDDEN AREA AND WILL BE ARREST

He took the phone back and types more.

OR YOU WILL HAVE TO PAY FINE

Bingo. Yes, we were caught in a restricted area. No, there was no sign on this side of the dam. We hoped he was just looking for a bribe and can point us back to safe ground. I write back:

WE DIDNT MEAN ANY HARM. I WANT TO SPEAK TO MY EMBASSY

Bam. That was enough to spook him. He seemed unwilling to push the matter further. He pointed us to the safe territory across the dam. We thanked him, shook hands, and walked away. 

On the other side it was obvious, even from the placement of the sign alone, that we shouldn't have been there:

"Restricted Area. Access Forbidden"

On the opposite side of the dam we encountered a friendly Kazakh family on a picnic. They invited us to share food and drinks and were delighted when we agreed to drink a little vodka with them. After nearly an hour we broke away and continued up the hill. 

We both agreed this side was better. 

We had planned to spend the night at the second-largest astronomical observatory in the former Soviet Union, Tien Shan Observatory. Instead we found the gate locked and guarded. Since we were so close to our exit days for both Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, I thought it best not to push our luck. We headed back to our hostel in Almaty so we could get a bus back to Bishkek first thing in the morning. 

It was a very eventful day hike as it was.

Kaz/Kyrg backpacking fuel summary: there is usually one well-equipped outdoor store that has stocks a single 8 oz propane-butane canister at a time. Red Fox in Bishkek and Limpopo in Almaty should have you covered if you beat the wave of other tourists vying for the same can. Do not count on white gas. Gasoline is easily obtained.