Part One: Into the Saryjaz - Team Espresso’s Return to Big Water

A Quick Look at What’s Inside

Before diving into the story, here’s what this first part covers:

You’ll get the background of how Team Espresso came together, why the Saryjaz River in Kyrgyzstan became our “big one,” and what it felt like to paddle into one of the most remote Class V gorges on the planet. I take you through the first four days — the packing, the fear, the rhythm, the portage from hell — and how Expedition Foods kept us fuelled when everything else was stripped away. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to commit to a river with no rescue, this is the one.

Packing for the Point of No Return: Preparing for a Kyrgyzstan Kayaking Expedition

The idea of paddling the Saryjaz had been sitting in my mind for nearly a decade. I first heard about it back in 2015 — a river so remote that teams either flew out by helicopter or hiked for a week over 4,000‑metre passes to escape. It sounded like the ultimate blend of kayaking and mountaineering, but at the time I wasn’t ready.

Six years later, Team Espresso had become a real thing — Jen Chrimes, Ben Rowlands, and me — bonded by a set of values that kept us grounded:

• No ego on the river

• Care for each other above all

• Adventure over media

• Paddling as a team

• Never compromising on Will’s Coffee

We’d already paddled the Indus, the Baker, and the Stikine. But the Saryjaz… that was the one that felt like it had been waiting for us.

Crossing Kyrgyzstan: The Road to Engilchek

We flew into Bishkek on 5 September, met our driver Nikolay, and spent a week paddling warm‑up rivers across the country. Every day we pushed a little harder, trying to sharpen our heads for what was coming.

On 12 September, we crossed the 4,000‑metre pass into Engilchek — the abandoned Soviet mining town that marks the start of the Saryjaz. Empty tower blocks, rusting playgrounds, untouched football pitches… it felt like paddling into a ghost’s memory.

Day 1: Launching Into the Gorge

We woke early on 13 September and tried to cram 14 days of food and gear into our boats. It was sweltering, stressful, and honestly a bit surreal knowing we were about to disappear into a gorge with zero chance of rescue.

Expedition Foods had hooked us up with 1,000‑kcal meals, which meant we could pack light without sacrificing energy. When you’re stuffing every corner of a kayak, that matters more than you’d think.

By midday, we pushed off into the wide, grey, glacial river. The boats felt like overloaded lorries. The river felt alive.

Within 10km, we accidentally rolled straight into our first Class V rapid without scouting. I don’t often verbalise fear, but I screamed “OH F*%$!” as I missed the last eddy. Somehow, we all made it through.

Camp Life in the Saryjaz Gorge: How We Stayed Fuelled

Camp 1 was deep in the gorge with 1,000‑metre walls towering over us. We fell into our routine:

1. Collect firewood 
2. Filter water 
3. Set up the tarp 
4. Dry gear 
5. Boil water 
6. Eat

Expedition Foods became the highlight of every evening. Within minutes we had a hot 1,000‑kcal meal, which felt like luxury in a place where everything else was stripped down to survival.

Day 2: Bigger Water, Bigger Consequences

The river grew stronger. The canyon walls grew higher. The rapids became more frequent and more powerful.

We developed a system:

First person to reach a rapid scouts. If it’s good, they signal lines. If it’s bad, everyone scouts.

That day we ran some of the most spectacular rapids I’ve ever paddled — giant cresting waves, marble canyons, house‑sized boulders. By evening, we were exhausted and lay on our backs watching ibex silhouette themselves against the ridgelines.

Life was simple:

Stay alive • Look after each other • Eat well • Sleep • Repeat

Day 3: The First Portage on the Saryjaz River

This was the day we’d been warned about — the infamous landslide portage.

We hit a massive unrunnable rapid and assumed it was the portage. We spent an hour hauling boats over boulders the size of cars… only to paddle 50 metres downstream and realise we’d been wrong.

The real portage was ahead — and it was monstrous.

We spent hours hauling 60–70kg boats over boulders the size of lorries, lowering them down cliffs, crawling under rockfall, and following cairns left by previous teams. It was painfully slow, and daylight was disappearing.

Eventually, we found a cave formed by a rock the size of a motorway bridge. It became our camp — safe from falling rock, dry, and strangely beautiful.

We ate Expedition Foods, stripped off sweat‑soaked clothes, and tried to laugh at the madness of it all.

Day 4: Breaking Through

We woke at 5am, skipped breakfast, drank coffee, and attacked the remaining portage. By 10am, we’d made it through.

Ben genuinely believed he’d found God and blessed himself in the river.

The whitewater ahead was supposed to be “easy,” but high flows turned everything into pushy, powerful chaos. We paddled hard until we reached the old Soviet weather station — a place I’d dreamt of reaching for 10 years.

Inside, the walls were covered in scribbles from past teams — some of whom are no longer with us. It hit me harder than I expected...

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Curious About the Expedition?

Expedition Foods (EF): How long were you on the river before reaching the weather station?  

Team Espresso (TE): Four days of paddling, portaging, and surviving some of the biggest water I’ve ever seen.

EF: How heavy were your boats?  

TE: Around 60–70kg once loaded with food, gear, and safety equipment.

EF: Did you rely only on freeze‑dried meals?  

TE: Pretty much — Expedition Foods 1000kcal meals were our main fuel.

EF: Was there any chance of rescue?  

TE: None. Helicopters were grounded due to a crash, and the gorge is inescapable.

What Stood Out Most

The Saryjaz is bigger, harder, and more remote than any river I’ve paddled.

Expedition Foods kept us fuelled when everything else was stripped away.

The portage was one of the hardest physical efforts of my life.

The weather station felt like stepping into a decade of river ghosts.

Teamwork mattered more than skill — and we leaned on each other constantly.

Why This Expedition Stays With Us

This river forces you to confront yourself. There’s no ego, no distraction, no escape. Just you, your team, and the water. It’s the kind of place that changes how you see adventure — and how you see the people you trust your life with.

Part Two picks up at the Eyes of God Canyon — the section that tested our judgment more than our paddling.

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