Kyrgyzstan: Powder Mad Week Two — The Story Continues

After an all-time first week in Jyrgalan, there was a natural pause before round two kicked off. I stayed down in Karakol for a couple of days, waiting for the next group to arrive. It’s a different pace there — a bit more life, a few more options, and just enough comfort to reset after a big week in the mountains. Coffee, proper beds, a wander through town… but it doesn’t take long before the itch starts again, because you know what’s coming next.

The Week Two Tribe

Harald Myklebust
Laurent Darolt
Thierry Lewalle — Belgian Crew Leader
Patricia Wasser
Marcel Wasser
Andreas Balmer
Evelyne Balmer — Swiss Group Leader
Giorgos Paraskevas
Yannis Stellakis — The Captain (Greek Group Leader)
Yannis Katsouridis
Michalis Ladas
Yannis Papadopoulos
Dinos Dorkofikis

And of course, Antoine — guiding on another level all week.

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A New Crew, Same Mission

The next group started to come together in Karakol. The minibus pulled in outside my hotel, where I first met most of the crew — a quick turnaround moment of bags being loaded, people stepping out to stretch their legs, a quick toilet break… and the Greeks naturally refuelling with coffee before the journey up (standard). The Greeks were led by Yannis — quickly nicknamed the captain — while the Swiss had Evelyne at the helm, quietly keeping things dialled from their side. At that point, it wasn’t about how anyone skied — it’s about energy, attitude, and how people carry themselves — and straight away, it felt right. Good people, open, up for it — the kind of group you know will come together once you get into the mountains.

The Road Back to Jyrgalan

Leaving Karakol, you feel the shift almost immediately. The roads thin out, the towns get smaller, and bit by bit, everything familiar drops away. The drive winds through open valleys and scattered villages, with the mountains slowly pulling you back in. Then the road starts to climb — rougher, quieter, more remote — until Jyrgalan appears again, wide and still, surrounded by terrain in every direction. The kind of place that doesn’t need to shout about itself.

Back in Jyrgalan

Back at Baitor Guesthouse, it was straight into unpacking, settling in, and getting familiar with the setup. It had been a long day all round, but that first night Antoine — our trusty guide — had everything dialled, gathering the group to run through the plan, the terrain, and safety in a calm, clear way. Avalanche gear was checked, airbags arranged where needed, and by the end of it, everyone knew exactly where they stood heading into Day 1.

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Day 1 — First Tracks

Morning came quickly, bringing that mix of anticipation and focus as everyone got their gear together. Just as things were getting going, the Belgian crew — headed up by Thierry — and a French rider arrived straight off the back of the full journey. Flight, transfer, long drive into the mountains… no stop, no reset. They stepped out tired but buzzing and went straight into it — serious commitment.

The cat got loaded, transceiver checks done, packs on, and we rolled out, purring into the mountains in the PistenBully 600. Since I’d left the week before, there’d been a fresh fall of snow, and you could feel it straight away. Everyone was buzzing, swapping stories and properly getting to know each other. That first run always tells you everything — we dropped into a tester line, just enough to see how the group moved, and straight away the level was clear. The Swiss set the tone — smooth and composed, one of them an instructor of instructors — while the Belgians were right on it and the Greeks, full of energy, quickly adapted to powder like this.

At the bottom, Antoine gave a nod — no words needed — we could dial it up. From there, the day opened out into higher alpine terrain, linking long descents back through flowing tree runs in deep, light Kyrgyz powder. Lunch was taken out in the mountains — engines off, silence all around, hot tea and packed food — before heading back out for the afternoon, stacking more runs and always finding fresh tracks. By the time we rolled back into base, everyone knew this was going to be a good week.

Then came the container bar. A couple of other groups had already arrived, and as soon as someone walked through the door, cheers went up — loud, genuine, shared. We stepped in… same again. And just like that, it became a thing. Every time that door opened and someone new walked in, more cheers followed. Didn’t matter who it was — everyone had earned it.

Life Between the Runs

As the days went on, the rhythm settled in — ski, eat, sauna, sleep, repeat. Back at Baitor Guesthouse, most people headed for the wood-fired sauna or the outdoor hot tub, booked in the morning and ready for when you got back. Sitting in the steaming tub surrounded by freezing air became part of the routine, followed by the unspoken rule — straight into the snow before climbing back in. Evenings were just as important, with local, hearty food served by hosts in traditional Kyrgyz clothing, everyone gathered around long tables sharing stories before heading into the container bar where the atmosphere built quickly.

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The Crew Comes Together

As the week progressed, it became clear how naturally the group had come together. Conversations in the cat, at lunch, and in the evenings revealed a shared mindset. The Swiss spoke about their home mountains and trips like Mestia, the Belgians shared stories from across the Alps and backcountry lines they’d chased, and the Greeks opened everyone’s eyes to lesser-known ski areas back home. Different places, different experiences, but all connected by the same freeride mentality — chasing terrain, conditions, and something beyond the standard resort experience.

One of Those Days

Towards the end of the week, Antoine took us into a steeper, more committing zone. A couple of the guys sat it out with tired legs, but most were up for it. The line was long, starting open before funnelling into a narrower, steeper section, and the snow was perfect — creamy, fast, and stable. I followed Thierry down, filming as we linked turns through it, until at the bottom he shouted — a ski had just flown past him and disappeared into a narrow couloir below.

One of the Swiss guys had taken a tumble higher up. He was fine, but his ski was gone. We regrouped and tried to spot it — maybe a ski, maybe not — but without it, his day was over. Antoine made the call to retrieve it, heading back up while we held position below. After around 20 minutes, the radio crackled — he’d found it. He had anchored himself, assessed the snowpack, and carefully entered the couloir, triggering a small sluff before safely retrieving the ski. It was a moment that showed the level of experience at play — calm, controlled, highly skilled. Antoine guides 7000m peaks in the summer, and it showed. Back at the container bar later, the story had already grown.

The Final Days & The Journey Out

As the week came to a close, the group moved as one. The skiing stayed strong, but the focus shifted slightly — taking it all in, knowing it wouldn’t last. The last runs always carry a bit more weight. Leaving Jyrgalan gave time to reflect, and the journey back down into Karakol became part of the experience. On the way, we stopped at the Fairy Tale Canyon, a surreal contrast to the snow-covered mountains, with red rock formations stretching out in every direction. We also experienced traditional eagle hunting, witnessing the connection between hunter and bird — something deeply rooted in Kyrgyz culture and far beyond skiing.

This isn’t just about the snow — although the snow delivers every time. It’s about the journey, the people, the places, and everything in between. By the end, it’s never just a group anymore — it’s a shared experience.

The Tribe

By the end of the week, it had become something more than just a group. Different countries, different backgrounds, all brought together by the same pull towards the mountains and that shared freeride mindset. You arrive as individuals… and leave as a crew.

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Until Next Time

Weeks like this don’t come around often. Deep snow, long runs, big terrain — but more than that, it’s the people you share it with. That’s what makes it stick. That’s what brings people back.

The tribe is growing. The lines are getting deeper. And the madness… is spreading.

When’s the next one?

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