It is the capital of the province and the last real town of any size before the high pastures, a low, grey Soviet-era place of apartment blocks and a few older buildings, with brown hills rising on both sides and snowy peaks beyond. Winters are bitterly cold, sometimes thirty below, while summers are dry and bright.
The road from here leads to some of the most remote and spectacular country in Central Asia. Song-Köl, a vast alpine lake at around three thousand metres, sits in a high plateau where herders bring their sheep, horses and yaks every summer and live in yurts. The tracks that lead to it are rough, with gravel, steep gradients and fords, and the lake is usually accessible only from June to September, since snow blocks the passes for the rest of the year. Altitude and weather change fast, and a sunny morning can turn to hail by afternoon, so bring warm and waterproof clothing.
Naryn has an old connection with the Silk Road. About a hundred kilometres to the south-west, the stone caravanserai of Tash Rabat, a fortified rest stop thought to date from the fifteenth century, stands in a lonely valley, and the road beyond leads over the Torugart pass, at 3,752 metres, to China. Kyrgyz culture here is one of horses and storytelling, and the epic of Manas, a hero poem many times longer than the Iliad, is still recited by singers. Hospitality is generous, and a visitor in a yurt is offered tea, bread and kumys, fermented mare's milk, which is an acquired taste.
Fuel is available in Naryn, with several stations, and it is essential to fill up and carry extra, since the high country has none. Cafes along the main street serve beshbarmak, boiled meat with noodles, laghman noodle soup and manty dumplings, and the bazaar sells bread, fruit and dairy products.
Check your bike over before you leave. The tracks are long and help is far away, and a calm start makes the rest of the journey easier.