It was here that I saw my first muddy river in Kyrgyzstan. Up until then, I had imagined every Kyrgyz river as a magnificent blue, some an icy blue-grey. It could have been artificially muddy because it was part of the hydro-electric power scheme. This structure dams the Naryn river, and is named after a 19th century poet and songwriter. The Kyrgyz people love their story-tellers.
Frequently we encountered road closures due to damage. Only twice were we stopped at a road block. On our journey past Toktugul, we were stopped for the second time. "Base" was the reason our Russian driver and translater were told in Russian. Not knowing quite was base meant, after a lengthy wait, our driver drove through the plastic rope roadblock, and we charged ahead watching the traffic official gesticulate wildly in our rear view mirror. We did come across these roadworks, where the road had been damaged by an avalanche. We negotiated for some space on the road and continued on our way. We never found out what "base" meant, but it came to mean "just because" on our travels.