Bishkek: the finish line

I set out on the two day ride to Bishkek.

The air grew colder.

Winter was coming, and taking insidiously sharper bites off the end of each new day. For the third night in a row I found myself riding well after dark - a sad sign that things were truly coming to an end. For the last year and a half I had traveled with regard for neither schedule nor obligation, and I had honored diligently only two golden rules: to never ride at night, and never book accommodation in advance. But that is just what I had done in preparation for my upcoming departure. The Fates of Routine, Responsibility, and Restraint were already beginning to exert their terrible, ineluctable influence on my life. I had shaken off the curse of Dooby through perseverance and guile, but there was no escaping the vicissitudes of real life.

One must be cautious on the wily mountain roads of Kyrgyzstan, for just as the smooth, successive curves begin to coax one into a fervor, the pavement may suddenly vanish beneath a cloud of dirty fleece. If one stops in time, they will realize that the horserider bearing a red flag 500 meters back was not a fluke, but a warning sign. Having narrowly avoided disaster, one may continue at a more reasonable pace, and pass through many more ovine blockades.

Many bikers find riding hypnotic; mollifying - but unless I am truly pushing the limits of my ability, there is no anxiolysis for me. Instead there is a surplus of time to grow lost in thought, and my mind often races faster than any speedometer could read.

I'd been thinking quite a bit about the end of this whole journey... trip, ride, peregrination, escape… or whatever you want to call it. I didn't feel like I had reached any satisfying conclusion. No crescendo, no denouement. I didn’t feel particularly different. Would this thing just simply fizzle without some grand climax or gratifying coda? And what would it all mean anyway? I never crashed, never paid a bribe, never even got a flat tire, never forded a river, nor contracted dysentery. I was never really scared, so how could I possibly feel satisfied?