Hiking to Arslanbob Holy Lake

There's supposedly a very beautiful alpine lake in Arslanbob that goes by the name of Kyl-Mazar, Kol-Mazar or in English, Holy Lake. t's a slow paced two day walk for most tourists, and a one day walk for locals.

Given the absurd amount of snowfall that's occurred in recent times, the only safe way is to walk around Baba-Ata (the mountain standing between Arslanbob and the Holy Lake). Even though it's a full days walk, I set out at 10am, being used to walking faster than most people, having earned my stripes hiking in Tibet.

Many tourists take a guide with them from the CBT and all have a tent, sleeping bag, food and plenty of warm clothes.

I have a jacket and two pieces of bread in a plastic bag.

The plan is to rock up to the lake and sleep in the communal house where all the Uzbek pilgrims stay. Every Uzbek family that makes the trip up takes with them a sheep, which they slaughter and share with everyone.

The sky is clear, there's little chance of rain, and by now, most of yesterday's downpour has dried up, though the rivers are something fierce. Following the rough directions given to me by Israel, I soon partake in risky move #1, crossing the river. The rain has caused it to swell to a very large size, and I see people on both sides looking for a safe place to cross. I forge a path by walking across and dropping boulders in place, and, almost dropping my phone into the water in the process, make it across clumsily. As I follow the river upstream, I find a very easy place to cross.

Following the river into the mountains, I pass one Uzbek house and stop at the next. Asking the boys for directions, they tell me it's up over the first mountain, through the valley and over the next. As I'm about to set off, the eldest invites me for tea. I soon find out that the family consists of seven boys, mum (who makes the food and passes it to one of the sons while standing outside) and dad, currently in Arslanbob.

Noting that I have only a few hours left to reach the lake, I bid the family farewell and continue following the directions given by the eldest son, over the first mountain without any problems, reaching the second, to find that it's Baba-Ata, mostly covered in snow and that the way around involves a several kilometre detour.

The smart thing to do is to take the detour and the stubborn thing to do is to continue onward, trying to find a pass over the mountain. I choose the stubborn option and so begins the next adventure in this never ending saga of stupid ideas.

There's a narrow rocky path, skirted on both sides by snow which I choose as my means of assaulting the mountain. At the end of the path lie some rocks, which I clamber over. Then the rocks turn to boulders and get bigger and bigger and my walk turns into a climb. When I get to the top of the highest of these boulders, and over the mound of snow, a narrow precipice greets me, to the left, a several metre drop into a patch of snow that would send me all the way back down to the bottom, assuming I don't injure myself. To the right, a twenty metre drop. My only remaining option is the leap of faith, the route I took is far too difficult to backtrack.

The leap of faith, aptly named as it requires nerves of steel and a steady step involves a leap from the boulder where I'm currently standing, a distance of just over one metre, over the aforementioned 20m drop to another rocky outcrop.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, I looked for alternate options, but found this to be the best option available to me, so I stood there for some time, took in the drop, thought for a second about whether or not I'd be found should I fall and injure myself, readied myself and leapt, or rather, slipped on the smooth surface, fell to my knees and momentum almost carried me over the edge. I had a great look at the spot where I would have landed had I not reflexively braced myself.

I didn't want to attempt the jump again as I might not be as lucky the second time. The leap of faith was no longer an option, the way I'd come proved difficult on the ascent, on the descent, close to impossible. With sunset only a couple of hours away and no one in sight or within hearing range, I was well and truly stuck up the mountain.

The view was really nice though. In the background, the peak of Bab-Ata. In the foreground, a similar leap of faith, only with a much larger gap.

Having no real safe way down, I began to search for the least dangerous option, which is not a good situation to be in when you're up a mountain alone.

The route I decide on is tricky for several reasons. It involves climbing down a few rock faces, at times descending between rocks. If I fall I either hit rocks or land on snow and tumble down the mountain. The riskiest thing of all though, is the fact that I can't see the entire way down and as such I don't know if it's possible to descend or if I'll end up stuck somewhere.

The descent is dangerous, I slip occasionally and rip my jacket in the process. Sitting in a perilous position, the way up impossible to backtrack, I'm faced with the following dilemma, how to get down the following.

The only way I can think of, apart from jumping down the side to certain death is to slide down on my ass and pray that I'm able to stop before I pick up too much speed, fall off the edge, or end up crashing into one of the walls.

After several of these descents, I miss one of the rocks that I'm aiming for in order to slow my descent and end up tumbling out of control. Bouncing (and bruising) off the walls, I throw my arms and legs out in desperate attempts at stopping, and through sheer luck get a grip against one of the walls, cutting my hands in the process but avoiding serious injury.

At this point, the sun has begun to set, I'm still hours from anywhere, drenched from the snow, cold and once again in trouble. There's still a steep slope between myself and the valley where I can walk away from this mess I'm in, and the only way to get down before the sun sets is to jump down a several metre drop, hoping the snow is thick enough to brace the fall and slide down the next hundred metres, bouncing over rocks.

Suffice to say, I make it down the slope alive and now face the next challenge getting out of the valley before sunset and finding somewhere to sleep for the night (town is still a several hour walk away for those that know the path).

The sun sets just before I leave the valley and I have to descend in darkness, with only the torch on my phone for light, following a different route to the way I ascended.

The story should end with a nice easy walk back to town, since I can see the lights, but in reality things aren't that easy. The lights I'd seen are the neighbouring town, the way I'm descending gets progressively steeper and steeper and after slipping and falling one too many times, I have no choice but to start walking the long way around to try and catch the path I followed up the mountain.

After several dead ends and lots of climbing back up the mountain to try and find a safe route down, I finally stumble across a path and within several hours reach water. Rehydrated and with newfound energy, glad to be alive, I put Daft Punk's latest album, Alive on the iPod, will my legs to fight against fatigue and continue walking in the dead of night, stumbling and falling several times as I once more cross the river. I finally reach a road, only to have my phone battery die and continue the final two hours walking in complete darkness.

Walking past Israel's house initially, I finally make it back, dead tired, sore, hungry and a little bit cold and wet, at 3am in the morning just over 17 hours after I'd set out on my trek.

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