Joey Sackett is a snowboarder and photographer based in Jackson, Wyoming.
Twenty-eight days into my trip to Kyrgyzstan, I found myself above a rural village in the foothills of the Tien Shan mountains with the camp porter/musician, Zamir. He'd insisted on carrying my snowboard for me during the trek up to the yurt where I'd been staying for three weeks, even though he was already carrying his gun, keen not to miss any opportunities to hunt during the journey. He held the stirrup for my foot, then stabilized the saddle so that I could swing my body over. I didn't know how to ride a horse, but Zamir is a master horseman, a fact underlined by his distinction as captain of the local goat polo team.
Further along the snow covered, cattle shit-stained road we passed a seemingly abandoned Lada, a type of old-school Russian sedan. Then the road transitioned to a packed down trail and the village disappeared. We came across a logger on horseback and stepped aside to let him pass as his horse dragged a de-limbed tree through the deep snow behind. I gave a nod and said “salam." These loggers were the only people to regularly travel this zone in the winter time, at least not until the last 15 years when Westerners like me started ski touring this zone.
That, after all, was why Zamir and I were heading into the mountains. Kyrgyzstan is probably not on many skier or snowboarder's backcountry bucket lists (like how Hokkaido is) but with peaks that rise to 24,406 feet, endless untracked snowfields, and a totally unique snowpack—plus a distinct and welcoming culture—it deserves to be.
So, here's your guide to skiing in Kyrgyzstan, informed by considerable first hand experience.








