There are places that impress you immediately.
Kyrgyzstan is one of them.
Within hours of leaving Bishkek, the city fades behind you and the landscape begins to unfold. Vast green valleys stretch towards snow-capped mountains. Horses roam freely across the jailoos, the high summer pastures that have shaped nomadic life for centuries. Yurts appear in the distance like tiny white dots against an ocean of grass.
For photographers, it’s easy to understand why Kyrgyzstan has become one of the most exciting destinations for landscape photography in Central Asia.
If you’d like to see the images from this journey before reading further, you can browse the Kyrgyzstan gallery here.
But after spending another unforgettable photography workshop in Kyrgyzstan, we were reminded that the country’s greatest strength isn’t only its scenery.
It’s the life lived within it.
It’s the smell of fresh bread arriving from a yurt kitchen. The sound of horses moving through a valley right after sunrise. The warmth of tea shared with strangers who quickly become friends. The stories exchanged despite speaking completely different languages.
The mountains may bring us here.
The people are what make us stay.
More Than a Landscape Photography Workshop
Kyrgyzstan delivers everything a landscape photographer could dream of.
Dramatic mountain passes. Remote valleys. Storm clouds rolling across the horizon. Endless opportunities to photograph horses against spectacular backdrops. The kind of scenery that makes you stop every few kilometres and ask the driver to pull over.
Repeatedly.
Sometimes very repeatedly.
But what makes our Kyrgyzstan photography workshop different is that we don’t treat the landscape as something separate from the culture.
The mountains are not simply beautiful scenery. They are home.
Families spend summers on the high pastures. Shepherds move livestock through valleys that have been used for generations. Children grow up riding horses before they can properly ride bicycles.
The landscape tells one story.
The people tell the rest.
That’s why our approach combines landscape photography, documentary photography, cultural immersion and a healthy dose of curiosity.
Because the most memorable photographs are often found somewhere between the postcard view and the human story unfolding within it.
Learning the Kyrgyz Pace
One thing becomes clear very quickly in Kyrgyzstan.
The country has absolutely no interest in your schedule.
Roads take longer than expected.
Conversations take longer than expected.
Meals definitely take longer than expected.
And that’s exactly how it should be.
As the days passed, we found ourselves adapting to a slower rhythm. A planned photo stop could easily become an hour spent sharing tea and stories.
Photography started to slow down too.
Instead of rushing to create images, we spent more time observing.
Waiting.
Listening.
Sometimes the best photograph arrived twenty minutes after we thought the moment had passed.
Sometimes it arrived over a bowl of tea… Or kumis.
For those unfamiliar with Kyrgyzstan, kumis is fermented mare’s milk and a source of considerable national pride. It is offered generously and often.
The locals drink it enthusiastically.
The first sip from a visitor is usually followed by a brief silence and a facial expression that photographers would describe as wonderfully authentic. Whether that expression reflects delight, confusion or mild panic depends entirely on the individual.
Opinions remained divided throughout the workshop.
What wasn’t divided, however, was our appreciation for the hospitality behind every bowl.
The People Behind the Cameras
One of the nicest things about these workshops is seeing familiar faces return year after year.
This trip was no exception.
Joining us from Germany were Annabelle and Jens, two regular companions on Asia Travel Photography adventures who have long since become part of the Asia Travel Photography family. They know the routine – or perhaps more accurately, they know there usually isn’t one.
Annabelle quickly resumed her role as our resident drone expert. As a certified drone pilot, she seemed perfectly comfortable juggling between camera and drone throughout the trip, sometimes photographing a scene from the ground before sending her drone into the sky moments later. Looking at her images afterwards, you realise just how vast Kyrgyzstan really is -and just how tiny the rest of us looked wandering through it.
Then there was Jens.
Or “Bond,” as he became known.
Nobody is entirely sure when the nickname started, but it stuck immediately. Quiet, calm and constantly observing, Jens Bond had an uncanny ability to disappear for an hour and return with one of the strongest images of the day.
Coincidence?
Highly unlikely.
Warwick – or Warz – was back once again.
At this point, Warz has joined so many of our workshops that seeing him at the airport feels more like greeting an old friend than welcoming a participant. Kind, curious, endlessly enthusiastic and probably one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, he has the reassuring presence of a giant teddy bear. He seems to make friends wherever we go, and that natural connection with people often finds its way into his photography.
Like the man himself, his images are thoughtful, warm and unpretentious, focusing less on showing off and more on capturing the experience of being there.
This year he brought along his mate Trevor from Australia.
Trevor arrived as a dedicated landscape photographer. After decades spent photographing dramatic scenery, he knew exactly how to read a landscape, chase good light and build strong compositions.
What he perhaps didn’t expect was how much he would enjoy photographing people.
As the days passed, Trevor became increasingly interested in environmental portraits, daily life and documentary storytelling. It was fascinating to watch someone with such a strong landscape background discover an entirely new creative challenge.
The mountains never stopped being beautiful.
He simply realised there were stories happening in front of them too.
Returning to travel with us once again was Tiziana, who first joined one of our workshops in Cambodia back in 2019.
While many photographers were captivated by the colours of Kyrgyzstan, Tiziana gravitated towards black and white. Her images focused on expressions, gestures, relationships and atmosphere, reminding all of us that great travel photography isn’t always about where you are.
Sometimes it’s about how you see.
Ulan, Maksat and the Art of Controlled Chaos
No story about this workshop would be complete without Ulan and Maksat.
Every successful adventure requires two things: someone willing to lead you into trouble and someone capable of getting you out of it.
Fortunately, we had both.
Ulan spent most of the trip trying to balance two responsibilities.
The first was guiding us through some of the most remote regions of Kyrgyzstan.
The second was convincing his running coach that he was still following his training programme.
Judging by the increasingly frequent messages arriving on his phone – when we actually had an internet connection – asking for updates, we’re not entirely sure the coach believed him.
To be fair, it was difficult to find time for training.
Every time Ulan spotted an interesting track disappearing towards the horizon, our plans changed.
One moment we were driving normally.
The next we were crossing rivers, navigating muddy tracks and heading deeper into the mountains because someone had heard of a spectacular viewpoint waiting at the end.
More often than not, there was.
Close behind, usually with a smile and far fewer words, was Maksat in the second vehicle of our little convoy.
Calm.
Patient.
Unshakeable.
While photographers debated lenses, chased clouds and asked for “just one quick stop” every few kilometres, Maksat quietly focused on the important task of getting us safely across hundreds of kilometres of mountain roads.
This year, the roads fought back.
Twice.
Two flat tires arrived to test everyone’s patience.
Or almost everyone’s.
While the rest of us photographed the scenery, the mountains and occasionally the puncture itself, Ulan and Maksat simply rolled up their sleeves and got to work.
No drama.
No complaints.
Just teamwork.
Looking back, those moments say a lot about both men.
Ulan was constantly searching for ways to make the experience richer.
Maksat was constantly making sure we could enjoy it.
One found the adventure.
The other made sure we reached it.
Together, they allowed us to focus on photography while they quietly handled everything else.
Why Kyrgyzstan Stays With You
A few months from now, we’ll probably remember the landscapes first.
The endless valleys.
The horses running in the morning light.
The cold mountain air before sunrise.
The wind that seemed determined to accompany us everywhere.
The stars above the yurts.
The smell of food cooking after a long day on the road.
But those memories will quickly blend with others.
Annabelle launching her drone once again.
Jens quietly returning with another great photograph.
Warz making friends wherever we stopped.
Trevor discovering that people can be every bit as fascinating as mountains.
Tiziana finding stories everyone else had overlooked.
Ulan pointing towards what appeared to be an increasingly questionable road and confidently saying, “Let’s go.”
Maksat calmly following behind, unfazed by changing plans, muddy tracks and the countless photo stops that inevitably became part of the adventure.
The landscapes brought us to Kyrgyzstan.
The people gave those landscapes meaning.
And somewhere between the mountains, the dusty roads, the rivers, the yurts, the tea, the kumis, the laughter and the stories, another workshop came to an end.
As always, Kyrgyzstan gave us incredible photographs.
But more importantly, it gave us something far more difficult to capture.
The feeling of being there.