Into Kyrgyzstan

On our way from Almaty (Kazakhstan) to Kyrgyzstan, we followed the mountains to the border. The temperature was somewhere in the high 30's and we took frequent drink stops, although we had perhaps planned to run out of Tenge (the local currency) a little to finely, meaning that we had a light lunch!
The border crossing was a breeze, being simply stamped out and then stamped into Kyrgyzstan, although we were surprised to see an Aston Martin with British number plates being driven back from Japan to the UK at the border. Strangely enough, the border police took extensive interest in them and I am sure, extorted what they deemed to be appropriate 'fees' from them.
By the time we were on the road in Kyrgyzstan, it was around 4pm, so we headed East along Iszy Kul (Kul means lake) to find somewhere for the night. We cruised through what turned out to be the only town on the north of the lake and next thing we knew, it was getting dark, our headlights were as good as useless and there was not a hotel or guesthouse in sight. We plodded on, eventually rolling into a tiny village where a local offered us use of his living room (for a price!). It seems that the Kyrgyz love money just as much as the other Soviet countries. We were even charged 10 times the local price for admission to a national park area, which immediately put us on the 'rip off the tourist defensive'. Not a good start for our perception of the locals.
The house where we stayed for the night was pretty traditional with a mini farm in the back, an outside clay stove and a tin bowl for a sink. Needless to stay, we left early the next morning for a short 20km ride to Karakol, the main town for the region.
As we rode into Karakol, unusually we decided to stop at a tourist information office where miraculously, we stumbled across a friend of mine from London (also riding a motorcycle)! I had known that he would be in the area, but it was by pure chance that we were in the same place at the same time.
We checked into the same hotel as Matt and then proceeded to sit around chatting for a couple of hours before heading to the Lake for a quick dip with the locals.
For the next couple of days, we joined forces with Matt as we headed for the Chinese border. From this point on, it seems that we would meet more and more Westerners after having seen only half a dozen over the past 2 months. Among the Westerners that we met were 3 Swiss girls (Dyer, Corrina and Anne-Marie) who were cycling (pedal!) around Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. We camped with them one evening (when it poured with rain) and they put us to shame by being much more competent at setting up their tent and at coordinating dinner from the simplest of ingredients.
We pressed on to the South, where Jim and I would go to the Torugart Pass border with China and Matt would peel off and try his luck at another border. Foreigners are not allowed into China with their own vehicles without a serious amount of paperwork and permits, which only we had and the Torugart Pass is regarded as the among the trickiest of border points at which to cross.
On our way out to the border, a bee managed to get caught in my helmet, which ended up stinging me. Not a pleasant experience, but I managed to stop rather briskly before he could have another jab at me!
After a couple of hours of track roads with little grip and constant rain, we found Narin which was a decidedly dull stop off and quickly moved on towards the border with China. The scenery on the way was stunning but there was hardly anyone around except for some trucks carrying loads from China and herdsmen with their yurts.