I woke up at 7. Today was finally the day of the hike to Sary-Chelek (Sary-Chelek). For the first time in my life, I was going to climb a mountain with real altitude.
I was really excited. I had already warmed up to the group and gotten along with almost everyone. I feel that when you overcome something grueling together—like a serious mountain climb—bonds with people deepen quickly. I thought it was a really good opportunity to get closer to one another.
Breakfast buffet and the struggle over a single egg
There were only two shower rooms, so I got up early to secure one. Then I went to breakfast.
Fried bread, sausages, salami. They were laid out buffet-style, but mostly processed foods and not much that looked healthy. I took a little of everything and sat down.
I noticed there were only as many eggs as people, so at first I took just one. I think it's because elementary school lunches drilled 'equality' into me. But the Polish friend next to me took three. In his mind there was no 'one per person' idea; it was first come, first served. But I also thought that might actually be the more natural approach.
Thinking it over, protein is important. I copied him and ate three eggs too. In the end, there were extra eggs. Not everyone eats eggs. That was another discovery.
Starting the climb to 2,300 m.
I was ready with my gear. I heard there were ticks, so I tucked the hem of my windbreaker into my socks and adjusted my clothes. Feeling ready to go, we got into the wagon and headed to the starting point.
Excitement and anxiety mixed and rushed through me. Even so, in that moment I definitely felt alive. The exhilaration of everyone moving in the same direction is incomparable.
At the checkpoint, everyone got out of the van. The spot itself wasn't very high, but the place we were climbing today was much higher. I worried about altitude sickness—since it was my first climb, I had a lot of concerns.
We formed a circle and the guide taught us warm-up exercises. The thrill of becoming one and moving in the same direction was incredible. I love moments like this. After the warm-ups, with everyone saying 'let's go', our spirits rose.
Even before we started walking, I began to feel short of breath and lightheaded for some reason. I couldn't tell if it was hyperventilation from anxiety or the altitude. I also felt a bit dizzy. But I told myself, what good is being timid and worrying about altitude sickness here?
The guide told us to conserve our energy as much as possible and not to talk much, so I learned that some people do show symptoms of altitude sickness. I prayed it wouldn't be me. When I climbed Ijen before, I led the group and wasn't tired at all, so I figured I must be suited to mountains.
Drinking river water and walking while looking at the lake
With all that, we began to walk. We pushed toward the mountain. Members who had been talking at first fell silent along the way. We moved forward facing nothing but nature.
By the time we reached the checkpoint, there was a big gap between the front and the tail. Of course I was in front. The scenery kept getting more beautiful and the lake gradually came into view. I began to realize bit by bit that we were at a high place. Walking felt meditative, a time of just me and the mountain.
We were already at 2,300 m. We had come to a place where you could see two or three lakes. A river flowed, and the guide who had joined said, "This water is really tasty." I was a little scared it might have bacteria, but she drank first to show us, so I went for it. Her comment that "Kyrgyz people all drink it" gave me another nudge. Even though tolerance can differ between people and I was a bit worried about getting sick, it was fine and the water tasted normal and good.
My only worry was getting lost. But fortunately the route didn't branch off; it was just front or back, so it was okay. Those ahead of me were tour guides and Kyrgyz locals. Maybe because they were used to it, they walked more naturally than I did. I thought that was really impressive.
We just kept walking. Two hours, three hours. It's fun when companions are beside you, but it's also really enjoyable when climbing alone. You can focus on the present moment, and just knowing there are members ahead or behind brings peace of mind. Even if separated from them, knowing we're walking in the same direction was enough.
The path to the summit while looking down at the lake
We climbed relentlessly. The scenery became more and more beautiful. Because it was steep we got tired and took breaks. But the 2L PET bottle in my backpack had somehow become 500ml. As my load lightened, I felt freer and able to push forward faster.
We passed many checkpoints, taking selfies and recording videos as we went.
At the summit—the moment when seven lakes were visible at once
And finally, we reached the summit.
The view from there—that was Sary-Chelek. Apparently Sary-Chelek means "lid of yellow flowers." Indeed, yellow flowers were blooming all around, and the view from there was truly beautiful. You could see about seven lakes at once, 360 degrees of nothing but nature.
It was incredibly healing. I had completely forgotten my worries about altitude sickness. The feeling of accomplishment was much greater.
Alone to a spear-like rock peak
As we were about to eat lunch together, we saw a group that had reached the goal before us heading further in. It was a sharp, spear-like rock summit like Yari-ga-take. Seeing them taking photos at the top, I thought it would be strange not to go after coming this far.
I put lunch off and headed there alone. The path wasn't paved. It was full of stones, and one misstep could send you tumbling.
Scared. Scared. But I wanted to go. With that thought, I pushed strongly forward.
I somehow made it up the steepest slope and finally arrived. Five people, including the tour guide, were taking photos there. Some were dancing to music and looked like they were having a great time, so I joined them. The same group took photos and videos of me too.
The guide seemed used to it and was kicking his legs up like at a club. I couldn't imitate that courage. The view was magnificent. You could take in all of Sary-Chelek, and I was above any other mountain. I took pictures while my legs wobbled.
Summit lunch, and an unexpected second-place descent
We went back the way we came and ate lunch. Lunch on the mountain summit was the best. It tasted really good.
After spending about 20 minutes, we started descending. The Kyrgyz locals and the guide went down as if running. I thought they were pros. I borrowed a stick-like thing from a local kid whose name I didn't know to descend, but while it was fine at first, it became a hindrance partway through. Less baggage is better. Not just for climbing, I realized that again.
I reunited with my Polish friend and we talked about riding a horse down, but thinking realistically it seemed dangerous, so we ended up walking down. Trying not to be outdone by the guide, I ran and ended up completely alone partway through. There was no one ahead or behind. I was a bit anxious about whether this was the right path, but I relied solely on memory and kept going. There were spots where the path split and I hesitated for a moment thinking "which way was it?", but I kept walking, recalling the route.
When I reached the checkpoint, the guide was resting. I had come in second. It seemed I had descended faster than even I expected. From there, the guide and I rested slowly, lying down and looking at the sky while talking. Twenty minutes later, the other members joined.
Walking along the lakeshore toward a high-altitude lake
The mountain climb wasn't the end. From there we were to walk around the lake to another checkpoint. I thought "seriously?" but kept walking.
Along the way we met up with two companions. There were also wild-looking local Kyrgyz people, and although the pond was very beautiful, what was stronger was the feeling of "advancing the mission." It stirred my sense of adventure.
After two hours of walking, the goal finally came into view. Along the way we also met up with a Russian companion and walked while chatting a bit in Russian.
When we reached the goal where the van was waiting, the sense of accomplishment was huge. I was really happy and felt we had safely completed it. The Polish kid arrived about 30 minutes late. He had gotten lost during the descent and ended up somewhere else. Still, he just kept walking and somehow made it here. Thinking about the fear of being lost, I thought he was very brave.
At the high-altitude lake, I stripped off and plunged in.
The local Kyrgyz who had reached the goal earlier had already swum in the lake and looked cold. Since it was a chance and an experience, I decided to swim too. I invited companions and we headed to the lake together. Some people were already swimming and everyone looked like they were having a lot of fun.
Curious how cold it would be, I touched it and it was ice-cold. Of course it's because of the altitude, but I think it was the coldest water I've ever swum in. Swimming there was apparently officially prohibited, but the locals didn't care at all. The view from there was also amazing. It was truly a spectacular spot.
I stripped off and dove in with a splash. My body almost cramped and I let out a scream. I stayed about 40 seconds. It was that cold. But in that moment I truly felt alive. It felt amazing.
A lap around the lake on an illegal boat
As we were enjoying ourselves, a man in a boat approached and started talking with my companions. Apparently you could take a boat adventure around the lake. We hurried to change and went to the dock with two Kyrgyz companions.
At that time we didn't yet know it was illegal. The man told us "don't record video," and after my companions paid, the three of us got on.
We did a high-speed lap around the lake. The wind screamed by and it felt amazing. My body, tired from the climb, was instantly refreshed. We took selfies and filmed carefully to avoid showing the man, circling the lake.
Surrounded by nature, I really felt we had come to a remote place. The three of us were the only ones to circle the lake that way. It became the best memory. The lake water was crystal clear, and when you put your hand in it had a truly beautiful color.
When I later tried to pay him, my companion said "don't worry about it" and wouldn't accept it. Feeling apologetic, I thanked him. When I said "If you ever come to Japan, contact me," he replied a bit pessimistically, "Getting a Japanese visa is really difficult." I didn't know what to say.
Durak with friends, and a budding desire to start a business
We took the van back to the hostel and had dinner together. It was a really good time. There was a huge sense of accomplishment, and as I thought "we all did it" inside, I felt as if our hearts were connected.
After dinner, a few of us played Durak. My Polish friend taught me; apparently it's a card game everyone in the former Soviet Union knows.
Beers lined the table, and at the Kyrgyz local's urging I drank a little. I stopped there because I didn't want to get drunk and end up in trouble, and left it at that.
It was the best day. I stood on Sary-Chelek's summit together with my companions. I love this sense of accomplishment, this thrill. I want to take on many more challenges, physical or mental. While feeling alive, I want to have many adventures and charge ahead even into things that seem difficult.
When I'm with companions, it's not hard; it's actually fun. I think the same applies to running a business. I want to start a company and move in the same direction with my teammates. That feeling sprouted again that day.
