The Nomad Games - some relief from 3 weeks of hospital and physio visits

Months ago, when I became aware of the existence of the World Nomad Games, I realised that I absolutely had to find a way to get to the banks of Lake Issyk Kul for the first week of September.

I passed near the area more than a month ago, and with my need to continue ever-Westwards on my bike so as to avoid the bitter winter months, decided I would have to return just for the games by some other means than bike. As luck would have it, as of this year, a weekly direct train makes its way from the Uzbek capital Tashkent, through Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan to the town of Balykych, on the Western bank of the lake an hours drive from the man venue. The plan was to leave my bike and most of my things somewhere in the West of Uzbekistan, and do a 2-train journey via Tashkent to get to the lake (I really hate long distance bus journeys but train journeys are just fine - you can walk around, read without feeling sick, and a lie-flat bed means you have at least a fighting chance of getting some sleep).

Well ahead of time I bought an opening ceremony ticket, booked accommodation and bought my train tickets for the weekly train from Tashkent to the Lake (the domestic Uzbekistan train ticket from the West of Uzbekistan would be easier to get last minute, and this plan left me free as to which place I would ultimately depart from). However now, due to my back/leg injury, my plans had to change. As the games got closer, I was wondering if I would be able to manage the games at all, given how intense the pain was, and how small a distance I could walk before unbearable pain set in.

My physio was not overly happy about the idea, but as I made some limited progress in the week preceding the games, she seemed to think it would be ok, but kept on repeating "be careful!", she didn't need to iterate quite as often that I should continue with my exercises, I think she knew I would stick to those. My visa was about to run out, so I was going to have to leave Uzbekistan and come back anyway - this trip was probably no worse than any other visa run.

I had bought economy tickets, had I known I would be travelling with a damaged back, I would have paid for a more comfortable berth, but just as I was getting on the train (helped by Pritesh, who has a similarly complicated sense of national identity to me - he can claim to be Kenyan,Indian or American depending on the exact question), a train guard asked for a small sum of money for an upgrade - a much cheaper option than hd I bought coupe class in the first place!

My plan to look after myself (apart from keeping to a strict regime of physio exercises) was to take taxis to get around (I normally shun taxis and walk or cycle everywhere), and take rest days off from the games every other day and if/when the pain became bad (again an anathema to me in "normal" life).

It turned out that booking my opening ceremony ticket so far out was a good plan. Almost everybody else in my hostel was ticketless, some had even failed to get tickets 2 months ago. The taxi driver who took me there made a good job of jumping some of the barriers to get me as close as possible.

It felt as though I had landed in Tolkien's middle earth. The music, set-design, costumes, galloping horses and themes all seemed to come straight from the pages of a fantasy book. The number of performers was on an epic scale, and whilst eagles, wrestling and several other aspects of nomad life were referenced, horsemanship took centre stage.

I am in Khan country - the vast area that Genghis and Kublai Khan and several other Mongol generations ruled, rampaged and influenced over; and this celebration is primarily a celebration of the Turkic culture that spans across this huge area, in which the horse is so significant. As well as the famous conquests of the Mongol hoards, riding intercontinental epic journeys; the area has for thousands of years been famous for supplying the best horses to China and Europe; and infamous for marauding horseback raiders. Camels are probably more of the western stereotype for silk road transport, but in reality the horse is the master vehicle of the vast landscapes here.

Premiers from several of the main Turkic nations were at the opening ceremony (Turkeys President Recep Erdogan being probably the most significant one), and countless other high ranking officials, and so, after the ceremony was finished, the entire road system was locked down in order to shuttle the VIP's safely and quickly away. Once they were safely out of the way, they were going to use the closed roads to also move the thousands of athletes around. The only way for us mere mortals to get out was walking around 2-3kms along the road back to the town centre. This was quite horrifying, given that the furthest I had walked recently was 500m, and the last time I tried to go any further than that, I was in excruciating pain. This was not what the physio had meant by repeating "be careful!" over and over...

The good and the bad - it did hurt, both walking that far, and for some time after; but not nearly as badly as I thought it might, indeed 2 weeks ago I'm pretty sure I could not have physically managed that far. I was sore that night and the following day, but by sticking to my plan of taking the next day as a rest day, bounced back, and I don't think there was any long lasting damage.

One of the 2 main event sites is the village of Kyrchyn, a village in a valley set back from the lake. For the duration of the Games, a huge yurt village springs up and hosts the main cultural activities, as well as most of the "field" sports.

This included archery of various different kinds, including variations from just about every Turk nation, and surprise, surprise - horseback archery. I'm not sure if they would get their Health & Safety certification in most Western countries, no change that - I'm absolutely certain they would not! Spectators were allowed to stand either side of the archery, down flight of the shooting, and the area behind the targets where a constant flow of dead arrows landed, was only vaguely marked out by a few cones, with officials regularly having to yell at people accidentally wandering into the area.

The animals didn't fail to entertain either. Eagle hunting consisted of various rounds of Eagles having to fly the length of a field as quickly as possible, coaxed by the voice of their owner; or chase down a fur pelt being pulled along by an official on a horse. The biggest cheers were reserved for the birds who had no intention of doing what they were told - in particular the one that made for the opposite side of the valley, never to be seen again. Similarly the dogs chasing down the horse and pelt entertained most when acting up. Like the golden retriever that was leading by a country mile and within a few metres of the finish, stopped, turned and grinned at the watching crowd, then turned 180 degrees and ran off at full speed back in the direction of the start line.

Again, I probably ended up walking more than I should, but at least here there were so many things to stop and see along the way, from one end of the yurt village to the other, where the sports action was, that I was able to take regular breaks from walking and keep the pain levels low; and again I followed the day up with a rest day.

Most of the sporting action took place back down by the lake in and around the Hippodrome and neighbouring Wrestling centre. My favourite wrestling events were the Sumo & Er Enish. I really wanted to watch some Sumo whilst I was cycling through Japan, but unfortunately my dates didn't align with the Sumo season, so it was great to finally be able to see some here. Er Enish is a more local form of wrestling, starring not only the men, but the usual suspect in many of the games here - horses. But the highlight sport of the games is without a doubt, the Kok Baru.

Kok Baru involves 2 teams of 12 horseback riders sub-ing on and off so that there are always 4 riders per team, facing off over a headless goat carcass. It's essentially polo only with a much heavier ball - 30kgs heavier.

It's a really demanding sport that tests so many aspects of fitness. Great horsemanship; flexibility to reach down off the horse to grab the goat; strength to haul the beast up, hold on to it and direct it successfully into the huge circular concrete bins that form the goals; excellent awareness of where both teams are; and tactical astuteness in game play.

Unfortunately it is a sport that really shows up mismatches in skill. Several Western countries had teams - great horsemen, and some strong guys, but without the match experience of the Central Asian teams they lost severely, with the few points they scored quite clearly given away in sympathy! Even amongst the local nations, host country Kyrgystan was head and shoulders above the others. Only one game, that I was lucky enough to catch, was a real battle and when you get that, you see Kok Baru at it's best. It was the match between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. It was end-to-end stuff with most of the game being either level or one team being just 1 point ahead. Even in the dying minutes, trailing favourites Kazakhstan were constantly threatening to equalise, but failed to.

After a week of excitement, the time has come to take the long 2-night train journey back to Uzbekistan for more physio and medical care. I had kind of imagined being able to walk properly by this point, 1 month on from when I last rode my bike. Whilst I can see a lot of improvement in pain levels and mobility, I'm still nowhere near normal walking or getting back on the bike, so I'm going to have to do some thinking. Realistically - am I going to be able to get back on the bike in the near-to medium future? If I can't, am I in a good position to continue the trip overland by other means? Should I return home for treatment? What about the Trail Running World Champs in Hawaii? (I qualified outright in the Senior category by winning the Thailand Trail Running Series last year - the first time I've ever qualified for a World Champs in anything, and given how late in life I've left this bucket list item - unlikely at the senior level ever again, even qualifying for any world champs in the veteran category is not overly likely)

But then I'm reminded, on the day I'm riding the train back to Uzbekistan, that my situation is nothing compared to some people's, by the breaking story of double Olympic cycling champion Kristina Vogel. Today she announced that after an accident earlier in the year, her spine is snapped and "looks like an Ikea folding table". Her spinal cord is severed, yet she has stoically been able to say "I believe that the sooner you accept a new situation, the sooner you learn to deal with it.". From what I've read about other people with a large disc herniation like mine, I may or may not be able to do serious riding/running again, and recovery may takes weeks, months or years; but for now at least I still have some hope of recovering, and will do everything I can to try to build back my back stronger than it was before. And if that doesn't happen, well I will have to make the most of the hand that I'm dealt - I've been blessed with enough fitness up until now to experience the world in a way that most people don't get to, and will have to be content with that.