Sherabad ridge or terribly beautiful adventures in Boysun, Uzbekistan

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Good day! Finally, the turn came to the story of my new "Boysun adventures", which I announced in my previous posts. At the end of March, "Mysterious Uzbekistan" announced a trip to new locations in Boysun. Of course, I could not stand aside and immediately signed up in the group.

All week the weather was capricious - it rained, then the sun peeped out. So it was raining on the day of departure in Tashkent. One could only hope that Surkhandarya is the southernmost region of Uzbekistan and that the weather there will be better. The forecast of the Hydrometeorological Center was encouraging - it seemed that only light rain was expected in the morning.

We loaded into the compartment, scattered our things on the shelves and hit the road.

In Boysun we were greeted by cloudy weather and it didn’t look like it would get better. Pessimistic premonitions were justified - soon after our arrival, it began to drizzle and it did not stop until the very end of our trip.

These were completely new places, the exact location of which I still do not know. I know that it is somewhere in the Sarykamysh-Sherabad ridge. In general, this is an interesting place. Until the middle of the 19th century, it was believed that plains stretch from the Gissar ridge to the Amu Darya itself. However, an expedition of Russian geographers and topographers discovered and mapped several ridges, one of which we went to.

In general, there is little information about these places and tourists rarely drop in here and then accidentally.

Our hike began with a visit to two caves. The first of them is considered sacred and pilgrims come here from time to time.

Why they come here, I have not remembered - either some locally revered saint is buried here, or just a sacred place. But one thing I understand that this is a beautiful cave. It is also a fact that it is very dusty!

We passed through the main hall and I thought that this was the end of the cave, but Sharof approached an inconspicuous stone and climbed behind it.

It turned out that there is a small hole through which we climbed into the second hall. This second room was like a cave of Aladdin's treasures - crystals hung on the ceiling, which shimmered under the rays of light from our lanterns.

We were strictly forbidden to touch these crystals so as not to inadvertently break them. Unfortunately, together with the pilgrims, barbarians come here, who break off pieces of crystals or leave samples of rock art on the walls of caves.

The air in these caves is very stale and there was a thick carpet of dust under our feet, which flew into the air from our steps. Therefore, despite the beauty of the crystals, I was very happy to get out into the fresh air.

We climbed further to the second cave. Access to it is more difficult and therefore the pilgrims visit it less often. Fortunately.

This cave was smaller than the previous one. I had to walk at an angle, constantly fearing to hit the ceiling with my head. Plus, from time to time, bats flew over us, causing frightened exclamations from the female part of our group.

Finally, we got out and climbed up the mountain range. The rain began to intensify and hopes that it would soon stop finally vanished.

The panoramas here are very impressive and before the trip I was looking forward to what beautiful pictures I would get. But alas, the weather has made its own adjustments. We spent the whole day in the rain and knee-deep in mud.

While we were climbing up, the clouds were creeping up the mountain, then hiding, then revealing it.

According to the original plan, we should to climb a huge natural granite slab to the top of the ridge and from there traverse to the final point. But because of the rain, the slab became slippery as ice, and it became clear that when we climbed up, we would definitely fall off of it and fly down. Therefore, we decided to walk along the slab in order to get out of it as soon as possible. By the way, this is me in a blue raincoat and with a red backpack in the photo below.

We safely passed the granite slab and went further along the side of the mountain. The damp earth turned into sticky clay, which chomped under our feet and adhered in heavy lumps to our boots.

I naively believed our Hydrometeorological Center and counted only on a light and short-term rain. Therefore, I took only trekking shoes for the hike, in which it is convenient to climb the rocks. They have excellent grip, but their moisture resistance is poor. An hour later, my trekking shoes were completely wet. I was all covered in clay, slipped three or four times and fell on the descent. At the same time, a piercing wind blew all the time and the rain drummed on the raincoat.

At first it annoyed me, but then it became indifferent. I just walked, mechanically shaking off clods of clay from my shoes, dreaming only of getting to the hot shower and warm house of Choraka as soon as possible.

It was very slippery and disgusting. At some point, we even went down into the stream bed and walked directly on the water - it was easier and faster that way. Having got out of the stream, we climbed another hill. The earth here was saturated with water and turned into incredibly slippery and sticky clay.

The group stretched out a lot and those in front sometimes had to stop and wait for those who were lagging behind. Otherwise, they would risk going somewhere else.

During the next climb, I saw an interesting piece of rock peeping out of the hill - it looks like the ruins of an ancient castle or monastery.

We walked and walked these endless hills. The wind was constantly blowing, driving drops of water by the collar. I was soaked through by either sweat or rain. Either from both, and was afraid that I would catch a cold.

After climbing another hill, a gorgeous view of the mountains lying in the distance opened in front of me. I almost howled in frustration - how great it would look in a clear and sunny weather. Although on the other hand, the mountains shrouded in fog were also beautiful in their own way.

Having admired the views as much as the piercing wind and rain allowed, we went on.

And suddenly the habitual chomping of clay underfoot was disturbed by the noise of a passing vehicle. At first I thought what it seemed. But no! There was the sound of a passing vehicle again. We finally got out?!

Yes, we got out! We went out onto the road leading to Boysun. Local residents passed by, who were very surprised to see us - wet and smeared from head to toe in clay. We talked a little, said that we are tourists who have arrived from Tashkent. The inhabitants were very polite, but in their eyes there was a clear doubt about our mental abilities - well, who in their right mind would into the rain, climb these hills?

We went down to the stream that ran along the road and began to wash ourselves. Since I was already wet from head to toe, I just entered this stream and began to wipe the sticky clay off my shoes. Somehow, having washed ourselves, we waited for the car, loaded up and went to such a warm and cozy house of Choraka, where hot tea and delicious pilaf in sesame oil were already waiting for us.

Arriving at Choraka's home, we just threw our wet shoes and clothes near the stove. But, alas, it did not dry out the next day.

We ate pilaf and went to bed. Under a heavy and warm blanket, I fell asleep even before my head touched the pillow. This was the end of the terrible part of our journey through Boysun.

Taking into account the state of the group and weather conditions, Sharof decided to make changes to the tour and replace tomorrow's trip with an excursion  to the border with Tajikistan. Looking ahead, it was a great decision and we had a good time. And in comparison with today's trip, it turned out to be a wonderful trip. But more on that in my next post.

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