Kolsay Lakes National Park

Listen for a moment. Under the wind, there is the low rush of water moving over stones somewhere below the trees. The air smells of resin and cold earth. Underfoot, the path is a mix of packed soil, roots, and needles from the dark spruce that climbs the slopes on every side. Then the trees open, and the water appears... a deep, clear blue-green, so still on a calm morning that the forest stands upside down inside it.

You are in Kolsay Lakes National Park, in the southeast of Kazakhstan's Almaty Region. This is the northern Tien Shan, the great mountain system that runs across Central Asia. The park sits in the Kungey Alatau range, close to the border with Kyrgyzstan. The name is simple and honest. In Kazakh, "kol" means lake and "say" means gorge. So Kolsay is, quite literally, the lake in the gorge. Many Kazakhs also call it the pearl of the northern Tien Shan.

There is not one lake here, but three. They sit one above the other along the same valley, like steps on a staircase. The lower lake is the one most visitors see first, and it lies at around 1,800 metres above sea level. The middle lake sits higher up the valley, a few hours' walk away. The upper lake lies higher still, close to the treeline, at roughly 2,700 metres. Each one feels different, and each one asks a little more of your legs.

Here is the first thing most visitors do not realise. These lakes were not carved slowly by glaciers in the way many mountain lakes were. They were formed by landslides. At some point in the past, huge masses of rock and earth slid down the steep walls of the gorge and blocked the river. The water backed up behind these natural dams, and the lakes filled. When you look at the slope at the end of the lower lake, you are looking at that kind of barrier — rubble that is now covered in trees.

Those trees deserve your attention. The tall, narrow conifers on the slopes are Tien Shan spruce, sometimes called Schrenk's spruce. They grow in a slim, pointed shape, almost like a dark candle. Scientists think this narrow form helps them shed heavy snow before the branches break. Look up the hillside and you will see them standing in ranks, with patches of meadow and birch between them. In autumn, the birch and aspen turn yellow, and the dark spruce makes that colour even brighter.

The area became a protected national park in 2007. Before that, and still today, the valleys were used by herders who move their animals up to summer pastures. You may hear horses before you see them. Near the lower lake, local families often offer horse rides, and you will see riders heading up the trail toward the middle lake. Horses have always been central to life in the Kazakh steppe and mountains. Here, they are still practical transport as much as a tourist experience.

The colour of the water changes with the light and the season. On a bright summer day, the lower lake can look almost turquoise near the shore and deep blue in the centre. On a grey afternoon, it turns dark and slate-like. The water is fed by snowmelt and mountain springs, so it is cold all year. People do swim here on hot days, but most only manage a few seconds. Trout live in these lakes, and you may see anglers along the quieter edges.

If you have the time and energy, the walk to the middle lake is the classic route. The trail follows the river upstream through forest and open meadow, with wooden bridges and some steep, rocky sections. Most fit walkers need a good part of a day for the round trip. The middle lake feels wilder than the lower one. There are fewer people, fewer buildings, and the mountains seem to close in around the water. Many visitors say it is the most beautiful of the three.

The upper lake is a serious hike, often done as an overnight trip with a tent. Beyond it, the trail climbs toward a mountain pass on the ridge. On the other side of that ridge lies Kyrgyzstan, and Lake Issyk-Kul, one of the largest mountain lakes in the world. Here is the second surprise. You are standing surprisingly close to it — but this is a border zone, and crossing on foot here is not a legal border route. Hikers should check the current rules before going high.

Many travellers combine Kolsay with a nearby lake called Kaindy, which sits in a separate valley not far away. Kaindy was also formed by a landslide, triggered by a powerful earthquake in the early twentieth century. The water flooded a forest of spruce trees. Today, their bare grey trunks still rise straight out of the lake, while the needles and branches below the surface have survived in the cold water. If you have not seen it yet, it makes a strange and memorable companion to the calm lakes here.

The small villages on the way here, such as Saty, give you a sense of rural life in this part of Kazakhstan. You will see simple houses, fenced gardens, cows wandering along the road, and guesthouses run by local families. Many visitors stay overnight in these villages or in lodges near the lower lake. It is worth doing. The evening light on the mountains is soft and golden, and after dark, far from city lights, the sky fills with stars.

The weather here can change quickly. A clear morning can become a cold, rainy afternoon, especially higher up the valley. Snow can fall on the upper slopes even in early autumn. That is part of the character of the place. These mountains are not a park in the city sense. They are a real alpine landscape, and the lakes, the forest, and the animals that live here — from birds of prey to small mammals in the meadows — follow their own rhythm.

Before you leave, stand at the water's edge for a minute. Look at the line where the spruce forest meets its reflection. Notice how sound travels across the lake — a voice on the far shore, the clink of a horse's bridle, the river at the outflow. Feel the cold coming off the water. As you walk back along the path, listen again for the river under the trees. It is the same water that filled this valley, long ago, when the mountain slid down and made a lake in the gorge.