Nomad Valley Trail | Budget Bucket List

Ak Suu Traverse

Not in the story-mood? Scroll down for the Quick Budget Fact Overview: an itemized information summary of Kyrgyzstan!

The true heart of Kyrgyzstan beats in its mountains: a vast, untamed wilderness beckoning those who prefer peaks to pavement. My own mountain-mindedness pointed me eastwards first (to a region allegedly frequented by tourists), driven by a desire to get a proper feel for the country's trails within a higher frequented and therefore safer environment. Here, one trek-name consistently passed my vision: The Ak-Suu Transverse. It was heralded as Kyrgyzstan's 'ultimate multi-day hike,' one of its most popular, and (bafflingly) marketed in some circles as relatively 'accessible' or even 'easy'. Interesting take, for a hike traversing a total of 7 mountain passes and reaching a total of almost 7000m elevation gain.

Yet, the deeper I delved, cross-referencing PR-speech with the hard-won wisdom of seasoned trekkers, a starkly different picture emerged. “Extremely difficult,” “brutally steep elevation changes,” and “no trail, just scrambling and bushwhacking” were the prevailing sentiments. While my own subsequent experience would temper these statements to a more modest 50% truth, these reports were, shall we say, less than inviting. Adding fuel to this delightful mix of conflicting narratives were the unanimous warnings from every tourist office and institution I visited to obtain information. Every single one of them warned me off – citing inaccessible early June trail conditions, the audacity of going without a guide, and the sheer lunacy of attempting it as a woman solo. Especially when I mumbled I was thinking of doing it in 4-5 days instead of the recommended 7-9, I noticed nobody even took me seriously anymore. My brain, in its standard state of taking any advice with a grain of salt (especially given by non-experts, people that didn’t actually walk it themselves), processed this whole situation as a particularly motivated peptalk though. Especially after studying the map, knowing that after basically every single mountain pass there is an alternative trail back to civilization. If they turn out to be right and it can’t be done, I just walk back. I’ve got shit to proof to anyone. And so, armed with little more than stubborn optimism, a backpack and nothing more than my own company, I embarked. What unfolded was an adventure, a challenge, and, in pleasant retrospect, a deeply rewarding testament to the mountains' capacity to surprise and relentlessly please, even when the human consensus insists otherwise.

Turns out, it was entirely, spectacularly, doable. For me, so also for you.

Too busy to read now? No problem, save it for later!
Save on Get Pocket | Save in Browser Bookmarks| Save on Instapaper

Base 1: Karakol

Karakol generally serves as the logistical hub for adventurers eyeing the Ak-Suu Transverse Trek. This sizeable, somewhat unassuming city, once a Russian military outpost and now the largest urban centre in the Issyk-Kul region, functions primarily as a food resupply point with its many properly-sized supermarkets (you cannot do this in Jyrgalan). While its Grand Bazaar, a delightful labyrinth of local commerce, stands ready to furnish you with an abundance of dried apricots and other provisions, proper trekking gear and those elusive gas canisters are best traced down beforehand in Bishkek. You’ll quickly discovers that Karakol’s "outdoor shops" (I found 1) often consist of little more than a couple of standard, low-quality items.

As a tourist destination, Karakol leaves a lot to desire as well. The only sight that made a certain impression was in my case the Holy Trinity Russian Orthodox Cathedral, a wooden structure built entirely without nails in the late 19th century. A testament to the indigenous craftsmanship of its time. Otherwise, your time here is largely earmarked for practicalities: the final relaxation before the wilderness beckons, the crucial last-minute purchases of food, and the strategic offloading of surplus luggage at your accommodation. While a visit to the local tourist offices might seem a logical step for intel, be prepared for information that proves more 'aspirational' than accurate (the people giving advice didn’t actually do this trek, let alone recently). Shrewd trekkers can head to EcoTrek for the exact same paper maps offered by the CBT, but then for half the price. EcoTrek can also book a guide for you, if that is what you decided to do after all.

Base 2: Jyrgalan

Jyrgalan, a tranquil hardly-a-village nestled at the edge of the wild, serves as the essential launchpad for the Ak-Suu Transverse. You can easily grab a marshrutka from Karakol’s Grand Bazaar (I read it would be the #311, but I could only trace down the #331, which also got me there). Be prepared for possible delays and a double charge compared to recent online sources. Upon arriving in Jyrgalan, you can take advantage of the opportunity to acclimatize to the high altitude, as the trek will keep you above 3,000 meters throughout the journey. Additionally, the village offers a wide array of day hikes for those seeking a warm-up. In my case, the village was also a more scenic place (compared to Karakol) to wait out the storm, as the Tien Shan mountain range is notorious for its volatile weather patterns and afternoon thunderstorms – a wise precaution given that a high, exposed mountain pass is precisely where one does not wish to be when an afternoon thunderstorm announces its arrival.

My preparatory hikes in these idyllic landscapes offered an immediate, and at times rather bracing, education. The Turnaly-Köl Lake Loop, touted as deceptively ‘easy,’ proved to be surprisingly challenging. Without having a single trail, it demanded constant GPS navigation across genuinely pathless, often swampy, and alarmingly steep terrain, with sections that felt more like vertical ascents than leisurely rambles. This experience, which I would confidently reclassify as moderate-to-hard, prompted a moment of genuine concern: if this was Kyrgyzstan’s definition of ‘easy,’ then what exactly awaited me on the Ak-Suu Traverse? My other wanderings included the Kok Bel Waterfall, an incredibly lame trek down a dusty vehicle road, prompting an immediate detour after a fellow female hiker recounted a distressing encounter, having to pepperspray a sexually harassing road worker away that followed her into the dead-end section towards the waterfall. This necessitated a more circuitous ascent over two minor peaks to avoid that particular work camp. And then there was the ambitious Keskenkiya Loop, a 55km undertaking (4 days recommended, but 2 seemed enough) for which I prudently set up camp, before an unfortunate technical malfunction with my All Trails navigation app compelled a premature, if pragmatic, retreat. All Trails thought it would be entirely acceptable to randomly log me out and delete all my downloads, without a particular reason, after I just splurged 30 bucks on their premium package. That’s what you need, in the middle of a trail-less mountain pass without any phone reception. Life-threatening, potentially. At least I figured that out here, close to civilization, which made it a valuable lesson… yet, it ruined my Keskenkiya Loop attempt.

Other shorter hiking options include: Ailampa Glacier Loop (41km, which didn’t seem too attractive to me due to its advertised swampy areas), Eki-Chat Yurt Camp (17km, entirely included in the Ak-Suu Traverse), and the Triple Pass Trek (63km, requires border permits).

My “test hikes” underscored the absolute primacy of reliable navigation, a point made painfully clear by the complete absence of any trail signage or often even trails. You need at least 2 reliable GPS apps with downloaded maps for offline use and a back-up paper map, in case technology fails you. I used Outdoor Active, had Wikiloc as a backup and also imported the GPS into Maps.me. The latter is a free option, which also has the Ak-Suu Transverse indicated (although Maps.me has all trails displayed, which doesn’t always give clarity as to which one you’re supposed to follow). Keep in mind that as soon as you hike out of Jyrgalan, your phone signal is gone for the entire duration of the trek. As if to further confirm the region's untamed character, one of these exploratory hikes even introduced me to a lone wolf. At least they were right about that in the tourist office. Shy as they are, simply slamming my hiking poles together and blasting out my favorite death metal playlist proofed effective. They fear us more than we fear them.

While guesthouse rates here surprisingly outstrip those in Karakol, you can also camp out anywhere you want. That’s what you’re here for, after all, for that one-on-one with nature. So I decided to do just that for 2 nights (in the pouring rain though), while the 3rd night I stayed in a guesthouse for a welcome shower and some relative luxury. This strategic blend of rustic immersion and comfort also neatly solved another dilemma: food logistics. Beyond small, two-square-meter kiosks offering little more than emergency bread and candy, the village provides virtually no supplies, meaning that all food for the multi-day trek must be meticulously organised and carried in from Karakol. Stashing the main Ak-Suu Transverse food bag at the guesthouse on day 1, while maintaining a separate, more immediate 'Jyrgalan food bag,' proved an ingeniously practical solution to not over-carry and to not leave products outside of the fridge for a prolonged period of time. However, some guesthouses mercifully do offer meal options (within Jyrgalan) for the less self-reliant.

Okay, time to hike. As a point of reference: Let me add that I have been an avid hiker for 10 years, with legs like steel cables, used to high elevation gains and with a decade of mountain-pounding experience already underfoot (quite literally, given the trail signs tattooed on there). While certainly no high-altitude mountaineer or Bear Gryll’s female counterpart and modestly acknowledging far superior hikers than myself, I am also not a novice, often finding my pace somewhat brisker and my climbs more effortless than the fellow trekkers I encountered on the Ak-Suu Traverse. This observation isn't a competitive one; rather, it underscores the importance of thorough, honest self-evaluation. There's no prescribed pace or 'right' way to tackle the Ak-Suu; your schedule must be meticulously tailored to your unique strengths but also to your limitations, not blindly copied from me or others. The below overview is what suited me. Crucially, as this trek offers no resupply points, you need to estimate your precise walking time, so you can bring exactly the provisions you need. Without over-carrying, but also without initiating a self-caused famine (keep in mind that you burn double your daily calories on hikes like this). Water, thankfully, is an omnipresent companion courtesy of the numerous river crossings, though a filter or purification system is absolutely essential, given the local livestock’s rather unconcerned approach to watershed sanctity.

GPS: Outdoor Active (recommended) & Wikiloc. Avoid All Trails.

Day 1: Jyrgalan - Ek Chat Yurt Camp - Turgon Ak-Suu Valley

Distance: 23.2km (of which 8km tackled the evening before).
Elevation gain: 1404m ascent, 990m descent. Highest point: Terim Tor Bulak Pass (3460m).
Trail conditions: In the valley it’s very swampy and muddy. At some point you’ll be climbing boulders. There is a slight trail on this section, be it often animal trails (so it’s not always clear which one to follow). There’s an incredible steep off-trail descend after the Terim Tor Bulak Pass, but it’s relatively short.
Water conditions: You’re in the presence of rivers and streams the whole day through.
River crossings: The whole day through, but mostly small ones. However, 2 before the pass forced me to take my shoes off. The Turgon Ak-Suu crossing is too deep and forceful to do on your own. The bridge has been swept away (2025), so you have to pay a shepherd to get across. They drive a hard bargain.
Weather conditions: Sunny in the morning, but after lunch I was forced to stop prematurely due to thunderstorms.
Camping spot: High in the Turgon Ak-Suu Valley, but still within the tree line. I was on my way to the Boz Uchuk Lakes but the weather turned around quickly, so I couldn't risk being high in the pass for a prolonged period of time.
Overlap: Eki-Chat Trail.

After what felt like a geological era of waiting – 1 extra day in Karakol, followed by 4 more in Jyrgalan, all courtesy of the Tien Shans’s rather enthusiastic meteorological mood swings – the Ak-Suu Transverse was finally upon me. My excitement was palpable.
To ensure an immediate and early start, I'd adopted a rather proactive strategy the previous evening. Rather than launching directly from Jyrgalan, I'd already walked the initial 8km into the valley, pitching my tent adjacent to the Ek Chat Yurt Camp. This preliminary stroll (that I had already walked before), served as a gentle introduction to the terrain: a slight elevation gain, the occasional animal trails, and already boasting a thoroughly swampy disposition. The night was wet and damp, offering a relentless downpour that I fervently hoped was the last whim of this ever-present rain. For those initiating their journey on the river's left bank, a bridge at Ek Chat offers a sensible crossing – a strong recommendation, given the river's rather intimidating current. As most recorded routes suggest, I'd started on the right, thankfully bypassing that particular challenge.

The tyrant of my journey, my phone alarm, sounded before sunrise. Weather reports, ever-changing in the volatile mountain environment, had hinted at thunderstorms between noon and 6pm. This intelligence prompted a strategic decision: abandon breakfast and make a hasty dash for the next valley. Day one dawned with a startling, almost mocking, beauty. The scenery was nothing short of stunning, a testament to what Kyrgyzstan has on offer. That said, it was equally clear this would not be a gentle jaunt. The initial 15km from Jyrgalan to the mountain foot presented a steady, if mild, uphill gradient. Yet, the landscape had other plans for my footwear. After hours of stumbling through the swamps, even my trusty Gore-Tex eventually waved the white flag. My socks seemingly absorbed the entire valley into their very fibres.

The entire day presented a series of river crossings, two of which necessitated the ritualistic de-shoeing. While seemingly minor, this proved a persistent irritation, particularly because my strategical applied tape and plasters would immediately loosen up. Not to mention the un-welcome forced pause for foot-drying. I’d better get used to it though, this is the new reality. About 3 hours in, I encountered a fully equipped tour group, just commencing their second day, complete with bag-carrying and tent-pitching services, dinner preparations and a guide to lead the way. A comforting thought, that should I face an accidental tumble, backup would be eventually on its way.

Then came the main event: Terim Tor Bulak Pass, soaring to 3460 metres. While the trail climbs up gradually the entire day through, the final stretch to the summit was a decidedly vertical affair… a study in slow, deliberate kilometres. Surprisingly, the ascent itself, though steep, felt less arduous than anticipated, conquered in under an hour. It was the descent that revealed the mountain's truly mischievous side. The incredibly steep angle made each step a calculated negotiation with friction and pain, leaving a trail of nasty blisters in its wake. My pack, feeling extraordinarily heavy (though very compact, especially considering I had to carry all food and gear myself without anyone to share the load with), had been manageable on the upward climb, going up like a little tortoise… but proved a rather cumbersome anchor on the long, torturous downward slope.

The river crossings continued their relentless appearance. Then came the day's pièce de résistance: The immense River of the Turgon Ak-Suu Valley, generously fed by the spring’s snow-melting and rainfall. Too deep and furious to attempt on foot, and its bridge apparently swept away by previous deluges. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention – or, in this case, the mother of a particularly robust negotiation with opportunistic shepherds, willing to get me across on their horse for a steep fare. Having read reports from 2022 suggesting a cost of 100-200 som for such a service, their opening gambit of 1000 som was rather bold. After some spirited bartering, we settled on 400 som – a sum that, for context, approaches the fare for a 7-hour journey from Bishkek to Karakol. The crossing was a mildly terrifying, knee-high-in-water equestrian escapade, the poor horse genuinely struggling against the current as I held my knees up high to avoid soaking myself completely.

By lunchtime, the option of tackling another mountain pass loomed. My legs felt up to the challenge, but the sky above had begun to lower, promising nothing but ill intent. Conquering another pass would mean several more hours before reaching lower, safer elevations. The decision, a delicate balance of ambition and rationality, was made: I set up camp high in the valley and reluctantly called it a day. Barely had the last guy line been secured than the heavens opened. A chorus of thunder, a flash of lightning, and even a drum solo of hail followed, providing a dramatic, indisputable approval of my choice.

What a formidable, yet realistic introduction to the Ak-Suu Transverse… a testament to Kyrgyzstan's spectacular beauty and its equally profound capacity for challenging even the most prepared (and well-bandaged) of adventurers. The promise of more passes, more rivers, and perhaps even more money-hungry shepherds, lay ahead.

Day 2: Turgon Ak-Suu Valley - Ailanysh Lakes

Distance: 20.3km
Elevation gain: 1677m ascent, 860m descent. Highest points: Boz Uchuk Ashuu Pass (3363m) / Unnamed Pass (3500m).
Trail conditions: 50% (animal) trails going in several directions (GPS needed), otherwise walking through grass and stoney areas. Very steep ups.
River crossings: All day through. For one I had to take my shoes off. For the valley river crossing next to the Jergez Yurt Camp I needed a horse, helped by a shepherd.
Weather conditions: Sunny, but windy.
Camping spot: Ailanysh Lakes, the small lake.
GPS: …
Overlap: Boz-Uchuk Lakes Trail / Glacier Valleys Trail.

After a day of settling into the rhythm of the high altitudes, Day 2 on the Ak-Suu Traverse promised a slightly more demanding chapter. However, blessed with the forecast of a dry day, the morning ritual from 6AM onwards unfolded with a leisurely pace that felt almost decadent. A lavish 2 hours were allocated not merely to the necessities of breakfast and tent-drying, but to the luxurious pursuits of stretching, podcast consumption, and the quiet contemplation of the gentle morning light painting the peaks. My shoes, however, seemed to have taken a solemn vow of dampness after yesterday’s swamp attack. A minor inconvenience. The day's itinerary, ambitious on paper, included the traversal of 2 mountain passes and 3 distinct valleys. From beneath every boulder, the watchful eyes of marmots accompanied my progress, their piercing whistles serving as both a territorial claim and an oddly comforting soundtrack to the unfolding adventure. Despite the considerable mileage ahead, my legs, to their credit, felt surprisingly resilient, carrying me with an ease that seemed indifferent to the rugged terrain.

The first major hurdle, the Boz Uchuk Ashuu Pass (3363m), made itself slightly unlovable with a false summit. Or rather, a series of them. Just as the terrain flattened into what appeared to be high pastures, hinting at the summit's proximity, another incline would materialise, then another. A minor navigational misstep, perhaps an overreliance on a horse trail, certainly added an extra, unscheduled climb to the morning's tally. The subsequent descent into the valley was, mercifully, a more gradual affair, a welcome balm to the toes still screaming from yesterday's vertical assault. My GPS suggested a wide stretch towards a yurt camp. However, I quickly identified a more efficient shortcut across the river and to the left of the valley. By the way, this particular yurt camp located just before the Boz Uchuk Lake (and almost all others) had been confidently reported as closed by the “experts” of Eco Trek and Destination Karakol. Naturally, upon arrival, almost all of them were full-on in business. Another unforgiving climb then beckoned towards the lake proper, just as I’d convinced myself I was already there. This was no meandering trail; it was a straight, off-piste ascent up the mountain's flank. Mentally, I was unprepared for this. The lake itself was undeniably beautiful, but thick clouds quickly gathered, obscuring the full spectrum of its vibrant colors. It's a popular spot, I noted, the official Day 2 terminus for most guided groups, also overlapping with the separately marketed Boz-Uchuk Lakes Trail.

From there, the rhythm of the trek became apparent: down into a valley, then climb again. The second valley was a swampy minefield. Navigating this extremely soggy terrain became a complex dance, a tactical exercise in avoiding the sock-drenching misery of a misplaced step. After this flat, squelching interlude, the path turned skyward once more towards the Unnamed Pass (3500m). The pass, though steep, offered a surprisingly good surface. Yet, the various horse trails, which crisscross Kyrgyzstan's topography like an abstract painting, once again conspired to lead me astray. Instead of following the more forgiving, swirling ascents, I found myself engaged in a direct, gladiatorial confrontation with the mountainside.

At the crest of this Unnamed Pass, I got rewarded: the first glimpse of the Ailanysh Lakes, shimmering at roughly the same altitude. The joy, however, was fleeting, once I realised what that meant. The route demanded yet another descent into a valley, followed by – you guessed it – another climb. Oh, and another river crossing. A daily ritual, it seemed. However, this particular crossing was unpredicted and not indicated anywhere. A powerful surge of what felt like spring meltwater, far more intense than anticipated. Just as I contemplated the icy plunge, a local shepherd and his loyal horse galloped into my direction. With a wave, he offered me a ride across on his horse, while he, meanwhile, grabbed my hiking poles to wade through the strong currents in his high rubber boots. He wanted no payment, a rare and heartwarming gesture in this region, though I happily offered some anyway. Kindness should be rewarded, not greed.

From there, it was one final ascent to the Ailanysh Lakes. Perched high, almost at the elevation of the next mountain pass itself, the climb was rather gradual, a gentle winding path that eased the tired muscles. And the lakes? Magnificent. The largest of the duo is a feast for the eyes, the undisputed bright blue winner of the day's beauty pageant. Spotting a couple already settled in for the night at its shores, I opted for a strategic retreat to grant them their privacy, choosing the slightly smaller, slightly swampier, and decidedly windier small lake further along. Despite its quirks, this spot offered an extraordinary view, a private amphitheatre to the unfolding alpenglow. The frigid lake water served dutifully as my kitchen, laundry, and shower – a multi-purpose lifeline in the wilderness. The biting cold, however, required me to wear every single layer of clothing before the sun would disappear behind the peaks.

Day 3: Ailanysh Lakes - Altyn-Arashan

Distance: 25.6km.
Elevation gain: 1112m ascent, 2006m descent. Highest points: Ailanysh Pass (3617m), Anyrtor Severnyy Pass (3609m).
Trail conditions: Most of the time there’s a (animal) trail. Yet, there’s no signage, so you should check if you're on the right one. Often, the surface is grassy and muddy. The Anyrtor Severnyy Pass has uncomfortable loose scree going down.
River crossings: Many, with 2 big ones in the valley, luckily with a bridge.
Weather conditions: Sunny, unexpected thunderstorm.
Camping spot: 2km after Altyn-Arashan. Altyn-Aryshan is a busy tourist hub, including hotels, restaurants, some small kiosks, electricity, wifi and waaaaaay too many people.
Overlap: Glacier Valleys Trail / Ak-Suu to Altyn-Arashan Trail / Karakol-Alakol-Altyn-Arashan Trail.

Today proved to be a demanding undertaking. A full-blown expedition that delivered more adventure than perhaps entirely bargained for. What I did bargain for was morphing 2 days, and as such 2 mountain passes, into 1. However, the universe generously sprinkled in some extra challenges.

I kicked off at the serene Ailanysh Lakes, taking on the gentle ascent to Ailanysh Pass (3617m). It felt almost criminally easy: a mere 20-minute upward stroll on a clearly defined path. The reward, however, was disproportionately grand: Panoramic views unfolded on both sides, a truly spectacular "minimal effort, maximum benefit" scenario. It might even lull you into a false sense of security. What followed was a descent of truly epic proportions. While mercifully gradual in its gradient, its sheer length proved a relentless test, particularly on the ankle that had swollen up after balancing uneasily on my blisters and open wounds. This lengthy downhill stretch, however, offered a remarkable interlude: the Glacier Trail. The Ak-Suu Traverse is an all-in-one trail, encompassing snippets of every significant trail in the region. Emerging into a valley, the sudden, unambiguous sight of a glacier, stark and shimmering in the distance, against the backdrop of a roaring river, was utterly mesmerizing. It promptly stopped me in my tracks, a silent acknowledgment of nature's grandeur.

The downhill eventually relented into a relatively flat section, only to usher in yet another, steeper descent towards a river. My travel-weary mind braced for the inevitable: another wild, spring-melted and utterly impossible river crossing. "Oh no," I muttered, slowly starting to despise that otherwise useful and omni-present water source. But as I drew nearer, a sight more beautiful than any glacier materialized: a bridge. A not-too-sturdy, but reassuring bridge. A moment of profound relief. The Aksu Alamy Valley, sandwiched between the Burakan and Kuugan Mountains, serves as the end-of-the-day-stop for many on Day 4 of the trek. For me, however, it was merely the appetizer before the main course – another, significantly harder pass awaited. A pass that, even if doing just that one, creates one of the heaviest days of the entire trek.

Alright, there I go: The most brutal ascent yet. 4 kilometers of unrelenting, often dizzyingly steep incline. That said, it wasn't a straight-up charge; the clearly defined trail swirled and zig-zagged, literally taking the edge off the gradient, but doing little to diminish the sheer scale of the climb. The Anyrtor Severnyy Pass, what a monster. And just when the burning quads and heaving lungs cried for a break, halfway up, I spotted them: ominous black clouds gathering on the horizon, unseen when this ordeal began. Fuck. At about 75% of the way up, a deep, resonant thunderclap roared through the air. "Oh, heavens," I exclaimed (or something less polite). Turning back was unthinkable; it would add another day to the itinerary, nullifying the entire 2-days-in-1 endeavour and rendering the current ascent utterly pointless.

Yet, safety had to outrule ambition. In this high-stress situation, my mind, surprisingly, sharpened into a hyper-rational instrument. I needed to act and act fast. This ascent, which typically sees hikers taking several breaks, became a non-stop, adrenaline-fueled sprint. The goal: clear the pass before the storm broke. My foot and ankle pain, moments before a nagging ache, completely vanished, utterly wiped out by the urgency. Thunder rolled closer, intervals shrinking to 5 seconds. A quick glance at the topographic map confirmed my grim suspicion: while the current side was ferociously steep, the other side offered an almost vertical drop. That also meant: A faster descent to safety. The clouds, though black, seemed to be gathering together on the adjacent peaks, not directly overhead yet, but the thunder was deafening. "Come on, you got this," I coached myself, "Keep going. Can't stop." In a remarkable 1.5 hours I slayed the beast, even enduring the soul-crushing deception of a false summit, before finally cresting the true peak. Without a second to enjoy it. The descent was as brutal as anticipated – a near-vertical plummet over loose gravel, which, paradoxically, aided my desperate hurry. I literally slid down parts of it, unable to move fast enough on my own two feet.

Finally, the decline softened into a flat stretch, embodying the calm after the storm. I had outran the thunderstorm. It felt like meditation. My throat, raw from dust and prolonged periods of heavily panting, ached; swallowing was a chore. At the first clear stream, I dropped my pack, fumbled for my filter, and drank deeply, almost hysterically. The sheer release was overwhelming, as if the sudden sunshine was shining not just on my face, but on my entire being. Checking Maps.me, I learned that I had shortened the time predictions by 2 full hours, arriving at Altyn-Arashan far earlier than expected.

Altyn-Arashan, however, proved to be an abrupt return to humanity, and then some. After days of pure silence and peace, the valley buzzed with what appeared to be the entire population of Korea, a testament to the inexplicably popular Ala-Kol Lake Trip. This place was mass tourism personified, complete with soda drinks, electricity, and maybe even some wifi. My sole interest, however, lay in the promise of hot springs. Initially, access was restricted to those with prior bookings, but upon seeing my dirt-streaked, exhaustion-etched face and hearing the abbreviated struggles of my day's trajectory, an angel at reception took pity. Stripping down, I plunged into the steaming waters, all the trail’s grime and accumulated stress instantly rinsing away. (Apologies to the next person who entered those therapeutic, now polluted, waters.)

Yet, the chaotic ambiance of Altyn-Arashan, after days of blissful solitude, proved too much. The constant chatter and human presence worked on my nerves. So, I packed my much-cleaner self and hiked onwards, seeking a quieter, free camp. The trails leading out of Altyn-Arashan, unfortunately, bore the scars of the tourist influx: wide, churned-up tracks by the overly sold horse tour packages. It was a stark reminder that in Kyrgyzstan, the footprints of growing mass tourism, both human and equine, already leave their indelible mark. Am I just in time or already too late, before this place gets ruined, like so many other spots that become the victim of their own popularity? A worrying thought before tumbling into a restless sleep.

Day 4: Altyn-Arashan - Teleti Valley

Distance: 15.4km.
Elevation gain: 1397m ascent, 1042m descent. Highest point: Ala-Kul Pass (3860m).
Trail conditions: Horrendous, the absolute worst day of the trek. Endless sequence of scrambling on steep and loose scree. Expect to walk 1-2km/hr once you reach the pass. There is a trail though, even though it shortly vanishes alongside the lake.
River crossings: Few, one relatively big one. No shoes needed to be taken off.
Weather conditions: Sunny, hot.
Camping spot: None, slept in a yurt at the Ala-Kul Yurt Camp.
Overlap: Ala-Kul Lake Loop.

A nightmare of a day was upon me. I just didn’t know it yet. All I knew is that I was about to conquer the highest mountain pass of the Ak-Suu Traverse, which didn’t sound like an issue to me (and indeed, it wasn’t the height that turned out to be the problem). I had strategically risen before dawn, hoping to outpace the inevitable hordes of the Ala-Kol-Loop. As expected, I quickly concluded that popularity doesn't always equate to quality, usually quite the contrary, especially when "horse taxis" are involved. The path, churned into a veritable mud bath, seemed less like a hiking trail and more like an equestrian obstacle course. I couldn't help but wonder: if one isn’t actually physically capable of hiking, why inflict themselves upon a hiking route and destroy the trail in the process? Surely, there are 4x4 adventures aplenty elsewhere in Kyrgyzstan, that wouldn't leave this sought-after trail resembling a ploughed field.

I got an immediate and relentless 4-hour climb for breakfast (incl. plenty of breaks – no thunderstorm to chase me up this time)… the first steps towards the Ala-Kul Pass (3860m), the highest point of the entire trek. Mercifully, the ascent, though steep, was more gradual than the previous day's brutal incline, which I had run up. A thorough insect infestation provided a buzzing soundtrack to my efforts, and a river crossing, navigated without sacrificing dry socks, completed the experience. Up until the final, agonizing 5% of the ascent, I was actually having a rather enjoyable time, all things considered. My legs are better designed for ascending than descending anyway, so this was my kind of jam.

However, the last approach to the Ala-Kul Pass proved to be a different beast altogether. The steepness, combined with the treacherous loose scree, created a landscape that felt more like an active demolition site than a hiking trail. The only silver lining was the unexpected appearance of a yurt just before the final climb, offering unlimited coffee and snacks for a mere two dollars. Refuelled and caffeinated, I braced myself for the final push. My initial fears about the pass proved well-founded. It turned out to be even worse than it looked. Every step was a battle against gravity and the shifting gravel that immediately swept me down with it. To add to the chaos, other descending hikers, seemingly oblivious to those below, sent miniature rock avalanches cascading down the slope. This section, in particular, is dangerously overcrowded (in the shoulder season – I can only imagine the misery in July and August). A segregated up-and-down route seems like a vital safety improvement. Hiking poles, in my opinion, are not optional here; they are essential survival tools.

Reaching the summit was a moment of pure relief. I had conquered the seemingly insurmountable, or so I thought. From the top, the view of Ala-Kul Lake was breathtaking. I felt a short understanding of the popularity of this attraction. The vastness of the water, an unbelievably radiant blue, was a sight worth seeing. I surfed that wave of intense relief: I did it, the hardest part is finally behind me, I can now just lay back and reap the fruits of my efforts. Yet, as I sat there nursing new blisters and catching my breath, a chilling realisation began to dawn, looking at the “trail” slithering down the lake: the true ordeal was only just beginning. I just finished the appetizer, but dinner was about to be served.

What followed was an endless torturing descent into scree-induced madness. Every step was a calculated risk, an exercise in maintaining balance on a constantly shifting surface. The concentration required was exhausting. The strain on my knees, feet, and toes was relentless. The pace was agonizingly slow, barely exceeding 1-2 km/hr (as a comparison, I generally walk 5km/hr, even in the mountains). At one point, the trail vanished entirely, forcing me to scramble over wobbly boulders on the mountainside, causing me to truly question my life choices. After hours of ongoing struggle, on a trail of which I did not enjoy a single meter, I finally passed the lake. The sight of its end brought a flicker of hope, quickly extinguished by the realization that yet another elevated edge lay between me and salvation. I was presented with a choice: the Panorama Trail or the descent into Teleti Valley. Given that the former was ominously labelled as "not suitable for hiking" on my navigation apps (while the section I just endured was labelled as such somehow), and even advised against by locals, the decision was made for me. The descent into Teleti Valley, though supposedly more mellow, was still an exercise in controlled sliding. The scree was even steeper, more unforgiving, and even with hiking poles, control remained elusive. In my rational mind, I cannot imagine a single human-being enjoying this. I am a hiking enthusiast, but this isn’t hiking. The trail's immense popularity is just perplexing to me. Does the average tourist know what they are getting themselves into? (I asked a handful, and the answer is a loud and clear “no” – many were utterly shocked with this raw reality.) As an experienced trailblazer accustomed to challenging ascents, I found myself unforgivingly tested to my very limits on this surface of misery composed of unforgiving scree. Witnessing less seasoned trekkers, some seemingly new to hiking altogether, I can only imagine they will never ever hike again in their lives. This probably ruins it for them forever. Such a shame, as it can spark so much joy.

It was hours before I reached the Sirotha Hut, a free camping area with a little hut on the side, stuffed with everyone’s trash. Humans can be disgusting at times. You make the effort to travel down to nature, and then continue to ruin that very piece of nature you came to enjoy? Seeing this, I knew I wasn’t going to stay here, but I knew I couldn't continue much longer either. I was utterly drenched. I stumbled towards the Ala-Kul Yurt Camp, bracing myself for exorbitant prices in this tourism-swept stretch of Kyrgyzstan. My suspicions were confirmed. I was quoted an outrageous price of €40 (a simple dinner and breakfast included) for a spot in a shared yurt with unwashed sheets, the sleeping mats so close to each other that I would be basically spooning a stranger. After a tense negotiation, I managed to secure a sleeping spot for €10, without food. While my own tent would have offered more privacy and hygiene, the allure of avoiding setup proved too strong. I always wanted to spend a night in a yurt, at least once, so I guess tonight is the night. As I lay on my back inside the yurt, finally able to rest, I realized that the emblem on the Kyrgyz flag wasn't a sports ball or a loaf of bread inside of the sun after all (logical thought, as bread is life), but a stylized representation of the yurt's crown. Aha.

Day 5: Teleti Valley – Karakol (unplanned)

Distance: 18.5km.
Elevation Gain: 272m ascent, 1192m descent. Highest point: Ala-Kul Yurt Camp, the entire day is descent.
Trail conditions: From the Ala-Kul Yurt Camp down the valley it’s a pleasant and well-defined trail (no scree!), but the stretch back to Karakol is an unattractive muddy dirt road track.
River crossings: One, but there’s a bridge.
Weather conditions: Thunderstorms, heavy rain.
Overlap: Ala-Kol Lake Loop.

Sometimes the mountains win. I woke up at 5AM with a surge of optimism, practically buzzing with the anticipation of conquering the final stretch of the Ak-Suu adventure: the Teleti Pass (3800m). 6 passes down, only 1 to go – a mere day's work. After all, I'd been averaging 2 medium-sized passes a day, while reserving a single day for the truly formidable ones, like Ala-Kol and now her slightly smaller brother: Teleti.

My enthusiasm was swiftly dampened once I looked up at the sky. Turns out, my weather-window had slammed shut. Cut off from the internet for 5 days, I was relying purely on my gut instincts, like the shaman I never thought I’d ever be. The situation, to put it mildly, was "no bueno." Yet, fuelled by a desperate desire to complete the Traverse, I pressed on, plunging into the valley below, relishing the feel of solid ground beneath my boots after a day of battling that traumatizing scree. But the valley offered a stark, electrifying reality-check. Lightning crackled in the sky, precisely above the very pass I intended to cross. An internal debate raged. Should I simply pitch my tent out here in lower elevations and wait for the storm to pass? That could take days. Without internet connection, how am I supposed to know? The thought of an indefinite delay, potentially trapped in a prolonged weather system, filled me with dread. With only a single day to spare, hanging around for an unknown duration felt like an unacceptable waste. Besides, the siren call of a proper shower and real food was growing increasingly irresistible (I hadn't had anything beyond camping fare for 9 days, as also the 4 days in Jyrgalan I was relying on canned and powder food).

The "old (or young) Stephanie" would have recklessly forged ahead, relying on blind faith and sheer stubbornness. But "new Stephanie," finally calming down a tad in her late 30s, is trying to embrace rationality and risk assessment. "I'm too old for this shit," I muttered to myself, deciding to cut my losses and retreat back to Karakol. If I was going to ride out this storm, I'd rather do it in a comfortable bed, with a bottle of dry red in one hand and on ongoing stream of fast-food in the other. After-hike self-care, I know what I’m about.

Was it the right decision? Undoubtedly. Did the days to follow give me the chance to return and complete the pass in better weather? Alas, no. The tempest proved remarkably persistent, lingering for nearly a week. It simply wasn't meant to be. Life, you see, often has other plans. It's a humbling reminder that we are not, ultimately, stronger than nature, even if human-kind likes to believe so. It’s okay, I have shit to proof to anyone. Defeated but not dispirited, I rerouted. I headed to the tranquil shores of Issyk-Kul Lake to nurse my blistered feet and replenish my depleted reserves with rest and proper food. Fortified and refreshed, I then set my sights on a new challenge: the Nomad Valley Trail, a lesser-known route through the Tien Shan. Feel like going with me? Check the blog here.

If the weather is on your side, find the GPS tracks of the final stretch across the Teleti Pass right here. It ends in Jeti-Oguz, allowing you to check out the “Seven Bulls” rocks (another popular daytrip attraction) on the way out… maybe even camp out there, if the energy is properly drained.

Quick Budget Fact Overview

Kyrgyzstan Facts

Capital: Bishkek
Language: Kyrgyz, Russian
Population: ± 7.1 mln
Sq km: ± 199,951
Currency: Som (с - KGS)
Electricity Outlet: C+F / 220 V / 50 Hz
Country Code Phone: +996
Emergency Phone: 112 general, 101 fire, 102 police, 103 ambulance, (03657) 5-13-87 mountain rescue
Visa: Many nationalities get 60 days. If your country is not included, an e-visa can be requested here. https://evisa-e-gov.kg/
Vaccinations: None mandatory, although it’s recommended to get vaccinated against Hepatitus-A and B, Typhoid and Tetanus
Climate: Arid / Semi-Arid Climate (B). (Subtropical in Fergana Valley, Dry-Continental-Polar in higher Tian Shan Mountains).
High season: May-August

Short History Recap

8th century: Arab invaders in Central Asia. Islam. 10th-13th centuries: Kyrgyz people to the Tian-Shan. Turkish rule. 1685: Area conquered by the Oirats / Mongol. 1758: Chinese empire. Early 1800s: Uzbek khanate of Kokand. 1876: Russian empire. 1916-17: Anti-Russian rebellion Central Asia repressed. ‘17-23: October Revolution, Civil War. ‘20s/’30s: Soviet land reforms, state-owned farms. Defeats the traditional nomadic life. Members of opposing intelligentsia imprisoned / executed. ’21: Turkestan Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (ASSR) within Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic (RSFSR). ’24: Kara-Kirgiz Autonomous Region. ’36: Kirgiz Soviet Socialist Republic (SSR) becomes republic within USSR. ’90: State of emergency after 100s people are killed in interethnic clashes between Uzbeks and Kyrgyz around Osh. ’91: Kirgizia gets name Kyrgyzstan, independent. ’92: UN. Economic reform program. ’93: Som as currency (formerly Russian rubble). ’98: Suspension death penalty announced. ’99: Troops to free by Islamic militants near Tajik border. 2000: Border deal with China. ’03: Putin opens Russian air base at Kant, near base used by US forces. ’06: President Bakiyev signs new constitution after mass protests demanding resignation: Limits his powers. Government resigns. ’07: Government resigns again. Prime Minister Almaz Atabayev poisoned. ’08: Earthquake kills 65 in Osh. ’09: Closure of US air base, after $2bn in loans / aid from Russia. Nevertheless continued after US pays more than triple of annual rent. Kyrgyzstan allows Russia to establish a 2nd military base. ’10: 200+ killed in clashes between Kyrgyz and Uzbek ethnic communities in Osh and Jalalabad. Referendum: a new constitution reducing the powers of the presidency and turning country into a parliamentary republic. ’14: US air base closed.

Budget Bites

Main Supermarket Chains in Karakol: Globus, non-chain supermarkets. Besides 1 or 2 few-square-meters shops with an extremely limited connection, Jyrgalan does not have any food provision. You will have to bring everything from Karakol. Along the Ak-Suu Transverse there are no food stops, besides some restaurants and tiny shops in Altyn-Arashan.
Farmers Markets: Karakol Big Bazaar.
Local Dishes: Tandyr Nan (traditional bread), Plov/Paloo (signature rice dish), Shashlik (grilled meat skewer), Naryn (boiled horse meat cut into thin strips, with cold noodles and hot broth), Samsa (pastry, standard street food), Kazy (horsemeat sausage), Ashlyam-Fu (cold Kyrgyz soup), Lazy (spicy seasoning), Tash-Kordo (stone or oven grilled lamb), Shurugan (fried onions in ghee with milk), Oromo (Kyrgyz lumpia), Hoshany (minced meat pies, Uyghur cuisine), Kattama (flaky tortillas covered in a crispy crust and fried onions), Zhuurat (sheep or goat yoghurt), Jansak (dessert containing ghee, nuts and honey), Laghman (hand pulled noodle dish), Manti (dumplings), Ganfan (spicy meat and vegetable dish over steamed rice), Beshbarmak (minced mutton poured over hand-cut noodles), Kuurdak (fried marinated meat, onions, and potatoes), Shorpo (Kyrgyz chicken soup), Chechil (braided cheese, bar snack), Dimlama (hearty, stewed vegetables).
The Veg Situation: Being vegetarian or vegan could be complicated in Kyrgyzstan, as their cuisine is incredibly meat-centered. Eggs and broth can also be found in most dishes. Remaining true to your diet will probably require you mainly cooking your own meals. Veg restaurants (almost all located in Bishkek, a select few in Karakol) can be found here https://www.happycow.net/asia/kyrgyzstan/ . Local veg dishes: Potato Samsa, Lazy, Veg Ashlyan-Fu, Oromo (enquire about meat in ingredients, there are veg versions), Potato Manti, Jansak, Dimlama (sometimes comes with meat, so enquire in advance), Salads (Salat Shirin, with crunchy marinated eggplant, is delicious).
National Drink: Chalap (fermented dairy drink), Maksym (fermented roasted grain drink, "liquid bread"), Kumys (fermented mare’s milk), Ozo (millet-corn drink, 4-6% alcohol), Dzarma (alcoholic barley drink).

Sleep Cheap

Hostels / Hotels / Guesthouses: You’ll notice that Kyrgyzstan is quite affordable, also when it comes to accommodation. This excludes the very touristy areas around Altyn-Aryshan and Ala-Kol Lake, where mass tourism sparked some shiny dollar signs in the local’s eyes. Guesthouses and homestays are the main offer, often including a simple but hearty home-made breakfast. The bigger cities also offer hostels, with very cheap beds in shared dormitories. However, be aware that even if you book (and pay for) a private room, like I usually did, they will try to put strangers in your room as soon as they realize you are traveling solo. It always caused an uncomfortable discussion. The reason for this can be found in many homestay-owners not really understanding online booking platforms, and therefore listing a private room while they actually mean a private bed. Another reason might be Kyrgyz culture, and entire families being used to sharing a bedroom with one another, not realizing that foreigners might not appreciate this. After a few of these instances, I always send a message ahead to confirm I truly do have a private room. Keep in mind that almost every accommodation only accepts payment in cash. Writer’s choice: I stayed in a private room in the Hadia Guesthouse, where they indeed tried to put strangers in my room. They also tried to up the rate higher than what I booked it for. In Jyrgalan I stayed in the Beymaral Lodge for 1 night, and camped out 3 in the valley. I camped the whole way through on the Ak-Suu Transverse, minus one over-priced yurt camp.
Couchsurfing: allows you to stay with locals. Nowadays it has a moderate sign-up cost (unless you put a third-world country as homebase), but paying extra for verification is unnecessary: Positive reviews are way more important. Once active, there are no costs for staying at someone’s house. In order to get accepted, make sure to write an elaborate request explaining why you applied to this specific profile and think you and your host are a good match (copy-pastes tend to be ignored). The Couchsurfing community in Kyrgyzstan is not big, but exists. Cyclists may also use Warm Showers, which is in principal a bikepacking community focussing on 1-night stays.
Wild Camping: is entirely legal in Kyrgyzstan, about anywhere you go. Avoid private land, obviously.

Mama Said

Safety: Kyrgyzstan is a pretty safe country, with a relatively low crime rate and few reported incidents involving foreign visitors. You’ll notice that the Kyrgyz people mainly keep to themselves, and generally won’t bother you (unless some money can be made).
Money: While some bigger supermarkets or hotels offer card payments, cash is the way to go in Kyrgyzstan. Many places offer a QR code payment, but this is for Kyrgyz banks only. Always carry sufficient cash money, as ATMs are only available in bigger towns and cities.
Negotiating: I am sorry to have to conclude it, but where the northern neighbours in Kazakhstan tend to have a culture of giving, Kyrgyzstan has a culture of taking. Money, that is. Always, and always more. The locals definitely aren’t unfriendly, but they do see you as a walking wallet, that’s just how I felt treated after an extended period of time in this country. The reason can be found in Kyrgyzstan actually having quite a high number of tourists in certain areas, while Kazakhstan basically has none outside of the Almaty area. Wherever there are no written down prices, you’ll likely to be charged double. Therefore, inform yourself in advance about certain prices, so you have a base for negotiation. You’ll still be paying more than the locals will, but not as outrageous as their first attempt. It’s tiring, honestly.
Tap Water: is safe to drink, although not everyone’s stomach is resistant to it. I drank tap water my entire stay without issues. When hiking, I used a filter, as cattle is all around. When cooking, the act of boiling already kills the bacteria.
The best credit/debit card for traveling is Wise, as they use the live conversion rates with minimal exchange fees. Wise also has the lowest fees for sending money to foreign accounts. Revolut is comparable, but they have higher exchange fees in the weekend and less wallet-options. Also, you can only wire money to Revolut in the currency you opened the account with, whereas Wise has IBAN’s from a wide variety of currencies, so you don’t have to pay a double exchange fee. Some Kyrgyz ATMs charge a fee for cash outs, but not all. Always make sure to carry enough cash around, as this is the most common payment method.
Simcard: Buying a local simcard, mainly containing unlimited calls and data, is incredibly cheap. The main providers are Megacom, O! and Beeline. I have a relatively good experience with O!, but it didn’t work in the mountains (as I have heard from others, no provider seems to). In Bishkek, the best place to buy a simcard is at the Tsum Aichurok shopping centre, although in the capital you’ll see street vendors all around. Avoid buying it at an elevated rate at the airport. You need to bring an ID. An odd thing is that they’ll ask you to register your simcard with the government within 30 days (for a fee that’s higher than the simcard cost), which can be done at a very chaotic desk at the highest floor of the Tsum Aichurok shopping centre. However, they’ll require a visa for it, which most visitors simply don’t have as 60 visa-free days are granted. As such, you can’t register it. For some people this results in an immediate blockage, some (like me) just don’t have an issue. I honestly didn’t even try, I figure I wait and see what happens (nothing happened). You can just risk it, especially if you’re staying less than a month. If you’re staying longer, just buy a new sim with a different ID.
Campers among us, I recommend buying all gear you might need in Bishkek, as it gets harder to trace it down outside of the capital. Especially camping gas, which I found at Red Fox (expensive), as well as in Novatex and Alex (cheaper). Expect gear and clothing to have standard western prices, it’s not really affordable whatsoever as it’s the tourist that buy this stuff, not the locals… but at least it’s available.

Transport

Walking: The central area of Karakol with the main attractions (as far as there are any) is rather compact, and can be explored on foot. Jyrgalan exists of a few dirt roads.
Cycling: Due to the bad road conditions and complete chaos of traffic, it’s not recommended.
Public Transport: Buses and minibuses (mashrutkas) are the main way to get around town. Unlike in Kazakhstan, people actually pay for the buses here. You pay the driver directly, preferably in exact cash. It is incredibly cheap, we’re talking about cents. Yandex Maps or 2gis can be used to find public transport connections, Google Maps doesn’t properly work for that purpose in Kyrgyzstan. City buses stop at designated bus stops. Mashrutkas or shared taxis can be hailed down anywhere. For intercity and international travel, head to the northern bus terminal, the Big Bazaar or the tiny southern bus terminal (better to check with a local, as there’s no obvious system). Mashrutkas are the main form of city-to-city transportation, you’ll hardly find big buses. They don’t tend to run on a specific time schedule, but leave when they’re full. For less-visited destinations, you’ll need to take a shared taxi. They also leave when they reached their 5 passengers, which may take a while. In Kyrgyzstan, they will generally charge you a much higher rate if you look like a foreigner, up to more than double (sometimes they even put an extra “0” after the amount). Therefore, I always checked in advance at my guesthouse or with a local what the actual going rate is and prepared that in exact cash, to not be ripped off. Sometimes I still had to pay a bit extra, but at least it was limited.
Train: Unlike in Kazakhstan, train travel doesn’t really exist here. There is an underdeveloped line from Bishkek to Balykchy (on the eastern shore of Lake Issyk-Kul), but it’s more suitable for the enthusiasts compared to those who just prefer efficient travel.
Taxi / Uber: Yandex Go is the main taxi app, only available in the bigger cities. It works in Karakol. It is very cheap, and secures you pay the correct rate without the tiring need to always haggle. The fare can also be paid by card or online pay, which allows you to hold on to your cash money.
Car Rental: is surprisingly expensive in Kyrgyzstan, surpassing the rates that can be found in western countries. The reason for this is that it’s catered to tourists, not to locals, so one will always pay top dollar.
Hitchhiking: is very common in Kyrgyzstan, especially on trajectories where public transportation is limited. You’ll notice entire families standing on the roadside, pointing down their index finger to the road as to indicate this act. After enquiry with a local tourist office, I was ensured that payment is in these cases not expected and even refused. However, in reality, this seemed to be untrue. I would in most cases persistently be asked for money (and always more), and if they don’t, they have never ever refused it when I offered. Not trying to insult here, simply stating facts of a 1.5 month stay.

Next?

In Kyrgyzstan: Lake Issyk-Kul, Bishkek, Naryn.
International Destinations Close By: Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, China.

In order to support the travelers’ community, I spend many hours per week to adequately document all information and advices for prospective visitors, accompanied by a (hopefully) entertaining insight into my personal observations and experiences. This service is and will remain free. However, if you voluntarily want to make a contribution and support my travels and thus the creation of new stories and information supply, here is the button you’re looking for:

Donate