Known as Manzhyly-Ata, after a holy man buried nearby, the springs are located along the shores of Issyk Kul, the 10th-largest lake in the world; its name translates to “warm water” as its slight salinity prevents it from freezing over even in the depths of winter. It has also been called the world’s “third eye,” partly because of its curved shape, but also for its spiritual power as a source of life in an otherwise arid region.

The shores of Issyk Kul hold are more than 130 sacred sites, according to Aigine CRC, a Kyrgyz nonprofit that published an inventory of spiritual landmarks in the region in 2009, defining a sacred site as anything from a natural feature — a tree, mountain peak, hot spring or the lake itself — to a tomb of an important person. These places often blend elements of Tengriism, an ancient traditional belief system that centers reverence for nature, with Islamic spirituality introduced to the region between the eighth and 12th centuries.

Issyk Kul and the sacred places in the area also play a central role in “kyrgyzchylyk,” or Kyrgyz traditional knowledge, which incorporates these spiritual elements into national identity.

For centuries, Issyk Kul’s remoteness protected it and fostered its sense of sacredness. “There’s no separation between nature and culture, between people and nature,” said Aibek Samakov, a Kyrgyz researcher who helped document the sacred sites and record local legends and beliefs for Aigine CRC.

There’s no separation between nature and culture, between people and nature.

All of these beliefs are threatened by the lake’s shrinkage. The waterline has dropped by 90 centimeters, or nearly 3 feet, since 2011, according to the Institute for Water Problems of the Kyrgyz National Academy of Sciences. It’s not only climate change, or even devotees dipping into the springs. Much of the shortfall can be blamed on farmers who divert the flow of multiple rivers that feed into the lake to irrigate their fields and on unregulated groundwater pumping that draws down the water supply from below.

But it’s undeniable that the weather is growing increasingly hotter and drier, resulting in less rain and more evaporation. Average annual temperatures in Kyrgyzstan have increased by 1.3 degrees Celsius this century.

Little research has been done on how these environmental factors might be affecting sites such as Manzhyly-Ata. Local religious leaders claim the springs’ slow disappearance is due to disrespect from crowds of tourists who flock to the site for relaxation or entertainment instead of spiritual reasons, Samakov said.

“They don’t come seeking some cure or seeking peace … so what they do is a visit, but not a pilgrimage per se,” Samakov said. “That’s why the sacredness of the site was retreating.”

Sacredness, or “kasiet” in Kyrgyz, can apply to both people and places, Samakov explained; visiting sites imbued with kasiet is believed to help people replenish or discover the kasiet within themselves. In turn, sincere pilgrims boost a place’s kasiet; neglecting its spiritual nature or using it for other means causes the kasiet to migrate elsewhere.

Tourists are not the first to desecrate the lake in the eyes of locals. Under the staunchly secular Soviets, pilgrimage sites such as Manzhyly-Ata were fenced off to prevent spiritual visitors; officials even bulldozed trees or graves, Choitonbaev noted.

In the 1990s, after Kyrgyzstan and its Central Asian neighbors gained independence and the most severe restrictions on religious expression were lifted, a flood of missionaries from Muslim countries such as Pakistan and Saudi Arabia arrived, importing a more rigid view of Islam. Any sacred sites competing with the holy cities of Mecca and Medina were deemed un-Islamic.