Amen to Armenia

I heard children's voices with a familiar accent and met Chris and his family who work in the British Embassy in Tbilisi and were on a short holiday to Armenia. The boys were excited to be staying in the old buses and the experience was no doubt enhanced by a terrific thunderstorm that brewed up after dark with the rolls of thunder shaking the van. However the day dawned bright so I filled up with water, said my goodbyes and moved off stopping initially at Khor Virap monastery before taking a road up in to the hills and leading to the viewpoint for the stunning Azat reservoir. It was such a nice spot that I decided to park up early along a track and enjoy some sunshine as a few cars and the odd tour minibus pulled in for the panorama.

Later a small helicopter buzzed in to view, set down on an island and a group descended for a picnic. Not long after they departed one of the shepherds came over and we had the usual exchanges via pointing and other gestures supplemented by a bit of Google Translate. He seemed to be suffering in the heat and was grateful for oranges and some water but eventually wandered off with his flock after showing me pictures of his home and family which were a couple of miles away. A lovely young Italian couple came over to say hello as they'd clocked my UK plates and we spent a good hour over coffee discussing van life before they moved on as they had a flight home that same evening from Yerevan twenty or so miles away. The evening was spent in glorious solitude as the sun set but rain swept in overnight before I made my way to the remarkable Garni Temple of Graeco-Roman origin and built in the 1st Century AD. It was destroyed in an earthquake in 1679 but eventually rebuilt by the Soviets in 1968, probably delayed by bat surveys etc... The lighting, stage and instruments of a concert held the previous evening were still lying around as I explored the site with a few other tourists as its proximity to Yerevan makes it a popular attraction.

In the gorge below was the remarkable Symphony of Stones which was an astounding display of hexagonal basalt columns lining both sides of the canyon. I got soaked walking down there and whilst sitting in a shelter spoke to a Russian couple who want to visit the UK. They were intrigued by my journey and said I should visit Russia but recommended St Petersburg over Moscow.....

Moving on to the Geghard Monastery complex, another popular destination, there was a lively wedding party just leaving after a ceremony in one of the many churches within the site. A convoy of fancy cars departed with horns blaring and hazards flashing leaving the rest of us to explore the many old chapels and other buildings in peace.

P4N gave a number of options for staying in the Armenian capital Yerevan so I entered the coordinates for one above the centre and near the Embassy quarter which I figured might have decent security. Despite the usual enthusiastic and unpredictable driving style of the locals I arrived in a large gravel parking area with a number of bays that cut in to the surrounding woodland so was able to reverse in to a discreet spot for my planned two night stay. A short walk brought me to the base of the tower that supports the enormous Mother of Armenia statue that looks out over the city and beyond to the snow clad summit of Mount Ararat. Within the tower is a military museum and a few old bits of military hardware were dotted around outside.

A walk through the park led me via an underpass to another memorial that sits at the top of the Cascades which I would explore the following day so I returned through an empty funfair to the van and gave an 'attendant' in a hi vis 500 dram for the night (about a quid). The evening views over the city were remarkable and I had a very quiet night once the odd boy racer had been seen off by the attendant.

The following day dawned bright and sunny and was forecast to get very warm so I set off back to the top of The Cascades which lead down to the centre. In a rather long term project that lurches in fits and starts towards eventual completion a remarkable series of steps in white marble lead up the hillside but at present there is a huge section yet to be finished. Thus a derelict tangle of half built concrete pillars with rebar sticking out at crazy angles, ramps hanging in mid air and creeping vegetation taking over sits above a stunning slope of staircases, gardens and fountains. On one side but under cover is a line  of escalators that run 12 hours a day whisking you up and down with numerous works of art on display alongside and galleries built in to the various levels. I really enjoyed the experience of ascending and descending several times to see all the various sculptures and creations.

Emerging in to a large park with more sculptures I then explored the compact city centre passing the opera house on Freedom Square and reaching the huge Republic (formerly Lenin) Square which houses the vast Museum of Armenia. In the 2800 Anniversary Park I enjoyed lunch in a small cafe before walking round to the fascinating and richly decorated Blue Mosque whose restoration was largely funded by Iran. It was possible to walk round and after slipping off my shoes even enter the mosque itself where there were separate entrances and sections for men and women. Inside there were a few guys prostrate on the huge carpeted area and a large number of Islamic texts were lined up around the walls. The gardens outside but within the walled compound were a veritable oasis and after a short rest I was back out to walk through to the foot of the Cascades once more. I couldn't resist the temptations of the various cafes and restaurants so, perhaps bizarrely, settled on a Chinese/Japanese outfit that served up an excellent and spicy Hong Kong Chicken washed down with a couple of beers.

Thus I was glad of the escalators once more and strolled back through the fairground that had sprung to life on a Saturday night. The Eye ferris wheel gave me great views across the surrounding area before I returned to the van for a doze. As dusk arrived I went back out for some night photography and watched as dark clouds rolled in with ominous flashes of lightning in the distance. Then with no further warning suddenly the winds blew up and the heavens opened with an absolute deluge. Parents grabbed their kids and everyone hared off back to their cars parked around the van and within ten minutes there was just myself and the attendant now rather forlornly clad in waterproofs as the downpour and storm continued.

Things had cleared away by the morning and I left noting that a camper with Russian plates was still tucked away in a far corner so I guessed they might be awaiting visas, judging by the stickers on the sides and the four bikes on a rack they seemed like a well travelled family. My friends from Italy have now passed through Russia and entered Kazakhstan with few issues other than lengthy border procedures, a fascinating tale.

My next stop was at the hugely moving Armenian Genocide Memorial where piles of flowers lay around the eternal flame beneath the 12 concrete pillars that represent Armenia's regions with a tall needle shaped pillar alongside whose longitudinal split reflects the splitting of Armenia in to two with much of the west being subsumed by the Ottoman, now Turkish, authorities which is an ongoing issue that keeps the border closed.

Heading west I stopped at Zvartnots Cathedral whose remarkably intricate carved columns have the snow capped summit of Mount Ararat as a backdrop. 

Nearby Echmiadzin is a major centre for Armenian religion and at Sardarapat a memorial tower commemorates a major victory against Turkey in 1918 that limited the fall of further Armenian territory. Two red stone bulls adorn the entrance and a curved wall of intricate carvings sits beyond well tended gardens.

Two beautiful churches, both missing their cupolas, at Aruch and Talin plus the red fort at Dashtadem provided interest before I began the long steep climb via numerous hairpins on the road towards Mt Aragat's snow capped summits that lie above 4,000m. The patches of snow increased until at around 2,700m a huge drift prevented further progress so I dropped back to around 2,500m and parked along a short side track with panoramic views. Despite the altitude it didn't get cold enough to need the heater and I enjoyed both a good sunset and a bright and sunny dawn. A little lower and a few miles back sits the Amberd Fort and an adjacent church where restoration work is haphazardly underway but appears to have received a setback as a large section of wall and a tower have recently collapsed. 

Heading away I passed a huge area where concrete posts have been installed in neat rows which may be for fruit or nut trees and soon reached the Armenian Alphabet Museum where an artist has installed reproductions of the letters of the alphabet in the local red stone in a visually very appealing manner.

At nearby Saghmosavank and Hovhannavank monasteries I met a multinational group including a guy from Cardiff of Armenian heritage and a lady from New York on her 62nd visit to the country!

P4N listed a place in Pemzashen that I hoped would provide a good service point but the Stone Art guesthouse looked unoccupied and the gates were locked so I carried on to another listing in Gyumri, Armenia's second largest city where the parking area for a fish restaurant looked suitable. The friendly staff said it would be fine to stay so I tucked away in a corner and later enjoyed a delicious grilled trout, chips and a brownie and ice cream dessert all washed down with the local, if not lo-cal, beer. The wooden restaurant sat adjacent to the trout farm so of course the fish was fresh but the menu also listed a huge variety of fishy dishes using other species.

After a quiet night I was away in to the centre for a look round. Gyumri was badly hit by the 1988 earthquake that flattened Spitak away to the east and whilst the two main churches and the civic centre have been rebuilt work is still underway in the suburbs. One of the rebuilt churches has its original enormous stone dome still in place alongside where it crashed to the ground. Away to the south a short walk took me in to the Shuka market place which was reminiscent of the souks of Morocco although here dozens of coffee sellers had mounds of various beans in sacks lined up rather than tea.

Another substantial Mother of Armenia statue stood outside the centre next to the circular Black Fort and not far away P4N guided me to a public fountain where I could easily fill up before the quick run to Marmashen, a collection of 5 red stone churches with two intact and three in ruins. En route I stopped at the Russian Iron Fountain, a peculiar and slowly disintegrating structure.

The access road down to the monastery complex is much improved and there are new parking spaces beside a picnic area so I decided it would very much do for the night. A very friendly woman came out and took me down to the main church and unlocked it. She then stood in front of the altar and in a strong and beautiful voice sang a prayer of welcome, very moving. After looking round she showed me some of the handicrafts she makes and I was happy to buy a couple of simple hand stitched friendship dolls before heading off for a look at the river. Whilst sat overlooking the still waters a guy in military fatigues came over but conversation was limited. However by signs and gestures he indicated that he was fishing and indicated that I should follow him along the bank. He produced a long stick with baler twine attached that at the other end had just a tangle of wire which he launched in to the water. He drew it out and then cast it back in again but I couldn't see how this was going to produce results....

However he was in fact grappling for a submerged length of plastic pipe beneath which a net was suspended and as it emerged from the water half a dozen or so fish were entrapped. Removing them from the net they were quickly dispatched and he pointed further along the bank after returning the net to the water. The next spot was his little camp where a canvas bag contained around a dozen more fish and he had some simple provisions laid out. He insisted on giving me bread, tomatoes and cucumber and then finished off with a handful of nettles that he scrunched up to remove the sting before we both ate them raw. It was a humbling experience sat there and he got quite emotional at one point as he indicated that his father and two brothers had died in the 2020 dispute with Azerbaijan over Ngorno Karabakh. I sat a while longer trying to express my sympathy but eventually indicated that I was going at which point he tried to give me all twenty or so fish! I explained I was travelling alone and they would be wasted so we settled on three and after some heartfelt bear hugs I was on my way.

Back at the van I gutted the catch, put the scraps out for the cats and was just settling in when a convoy of cars arrived at speed including two top of the range Mercedes Maybach limousines. I'd noticed a van pull up earlier and the occupants dashing off to the main church and realised that a wedding was underway so wandered over to take a look. The handicrafts woman said it would be fine to go inside so I stood discreetly at the back as the ceremony took place.

Outside the happy couple were showered with rose petals and the laborious process of photography continued, including the presumably nowadays obligatory drone so not wishing to be immortalised as a mystery guest I slipped away.

The wedding party disappeared later in a convoy of revving engines and blaring horns and I wondered what the elderly priest thought as he got in to his battered old Lada and drove slowly after them.

The buildings looked lovely at night with the various spotlights and by 10pm I had the place to myself as rain moved in.

Warm sunshine woke me and I was away for the hour or so's drive to Lake Arpi which sits in the eponymous National Park and is reached by a sinuous ten mile dirt track. The second largest lake in Armenia, it is surrounded by snow capped mountains that border Turkey to the west and Georgia to the north and reach about 3,000m with the lake at about 2,000m. I called at the Park Headquarters and after registering with my passport and vehicle details was told I could park up anywhere. The very friendly guy with good English who I spoke to is doing a Masters degree with a thesis on National Parks so was interested to learn about the Brecon Beacons and asked for a photo of me and the van to include in his work. He explained that the farming families live up here all year round but other herdsmen bring their stock in for the summer months and occupy some of the less derelict empty properties.

As directed I set off round the shoreline to some pine trees where he said I would see more wildlife so I followed a rough and muddy track until eventually a particularly soft section saw me spin to a halt. Fortunately a park sign to the picnic area was sturdy enough to provide an anchorage for the winch and following the fun and games back in Georgia I now had all the recovery kit in one place. Stupidly however once I gained momentum I allowed the winch that hangs off the towing eye to catch under the bumper which smashed the connection point for the cable that runs from the remote switch. However it was easy enough to separate the winch housing, disconnect the two spade connectors and wire the remote in directly, which is in fact a more robust arrangement than the original. 

Anyway I settled in on more solid ground and put myself up on the levelling ramps to prevent any more sinking and give me a bit of downhill for departure. I then put everything away and enjoyed the afternoon sun and at dusk the sight of the sheep and cattle herders heading back home, all of whom gave me a friendly wave.

After a silent night under a superb starry sky the solar panel was activated by the rising sun and I decided it was high time I got out on the bike. I set off on the 20 mile circuit of the lake with the scenery feeling very much like my favourite parts of mid Wales and the track in places just as boggy. I passed through a couple of very humble villages where although many of the ramshackle cottages had a solar hot water set up and the inevitable satellite dish they were still drying slabs of a dung and straw mix for winter fuel. Mains power lines were in situ but I imagine the supply could be erratic in winter. Passing the HQ again I had a quick chat with the Ranger, he was very apologetic that I had got stuck, when he took the van details he had assumed T4 meant four wheel drive......

After another quiet night I was away mid morning as rain was forecast and although the track in had dried out significantly the day before I knew it would soon get sticky again.

I dropped back to Gyumri to refill with water and also filled the diesel tank for £70 before taking the road north towards Tashir and the border. I passed Spitak which was destroyed in the 1988 earthquake and stopped in Stepanavan for some fruit, vegetables and other bits and bobs. The lady wanted me to try her range of pickled veg kept in barrels which I did but they weren't for me although it made for an amusing exchange.

So I'm now just a few miles from the border and will cross back over in to Georgia tomorrow. Armenia has been a remarkable, absorbing and varied country which is really suited to van life and has given me innumerable memories and experiences. Meeting so many locals and getting to grips with the long and challenging history of this now small nation has been a privilege.

A couple of days to get things done in and around the van such as laundry, gas refills, housework and the like will be useful and with luck Mandy will arrive on schedule on Tuesday. We will do a couple of weeks in Georgia and then head west through central Turkey, northern Greece and back across to Italy with no specific schedule or return date.

The usual bonus (?) pics here..

Up, up and away in Armenia

So with the poor weather clearing away to be replaced by higher temperatures and warmer nights I hoped the pass over towards Southern Armenia would be open as it would save a hundred mile detour via Yerevan. Leaving the shore of Lake Sevan I passed through the town of Martuni and began climbing on a decent road that led over the Selim Pass at 2410m (a shade under 8,000') with just one section on the approach to the highest point being a bit ropey. The snow clad ranges to the south and west were looking superb and just over the pass on the warmer southern facing slopes I stopped at the 13th Century Orbelian Caravanserai. This solid building comprised an entrance hallway and then on the left a long dark room where travellers and their pack animals would have rested over the centuries. It was of sturdy construction and very atmospheric with a real sense of history. Outside a jovial Armenian couple with a reasonable grasp of French were selling various home made trinkets ranging from jams to jewellery, vodka, wine and some very beautiful sewn items such as aprons, caps and shawls. I bought a few bits and bobs at perhaps rather high prices but as in Morocco I felt they deserved support for their initiative.

Following an old truck down the numerous switchbacks I realised there were half a dozen or so cattle tethered in the open back which explained the driver's cautious progress so on a short straight stretch I was soon safely past. Down at Yeghegnadzor it was much milder and spring was well advanced. The Crossroads Camping set up was noted for later use as I turned east on what is effectively the main road South towards Iran but was no more substantial than a minor A road back home. A left turn heading north took me back up towards the mountains and was quite rough in places. A wedding was underway at one church as I carried on through bare mountain scenery under a warm sun to reach Tanahat monastery perched in isolation on a hill. The level car park just below the cluster of buildings seemed the perfect place to stop even though it was only lunchtime and I broke out the chair to top up my Vitamin D. The small monastery was open and had the usual very moving images, candles and tapestries gracing the central altar whilst outside were some interesting carved headstones.

The following morning I dropped down to the Arpa valley once more and pulled in for a look at the beautiful church just before Vayk. The woman who looks after it wanted to show me the terrace, behind a small building where she is trying to start a cafe, which had a good view over the valley. She was delighted that I ordered coffee and she eventually produced a black and fearsome brew supplemented by a homemade cake. She also produced some hard boiled eggs which she indicated were to celebrate Easter. As I left she came over with several egg trays and asked for a lift in to the village but didn't seem to want one back so I left her there and carried on south noting that some of the trucks hauling containers were displaying Iranian plates.

A turning off to Jermuk climbed steeply out of the valley on a series of hairpins and then headed out to the town which was once a hugely popular Soviet spa resort so is of course now somewhat in decline. A chairlift takes you up to a point above the town with panoramic views all round, it was early and I was the only passenger on the surreally smooth and silent journey. At the top a few locals were foraging for mushrooms to sell and a ramshackle cafe was just opening up but before long I was on my way back down and got chatting to an American couple who had clocked my van in the carpark.

Jermuk's other main attraction is the Mermaids Hair cascade waterfall found beneath the bridge that spans the gorge after which I had a look round the small town which sported a couple of grand hotels and the Spa Museum which had four spouts issuing steady streams of the hot sulphurous waters. Just below town on a spur overlooking the reservoir I parked up by a simple chapel for a very quiet night with just a few cattle for company.

The Yerevan - Meghri highway carried on over the Vorotan Pass at 2344m with the usual high spirited driving as ancient Ladas and more modern vehicles risked overtaking on the rare stretches with visibility and many without. Keeping a close eye on my mirrors I was content to tuck in behind the trucks keeping an eye out for the numerous and random potholes that were a frequent hazard. The scenic Spandaryan reservoir had a few park ups listed in P4N but it was a cool and exposed plateau so I passed by and dropped down to Sisian where a rural road took me out over the dam of the Tolors reservoir. This was many metres below its normal level and a church buried beneath the waters for decades was now accessible across the muddy reaches above the reduced water level. The beautiful arches of the door and windows were still visible but the walls had largely collapsed along with much of the roof. I could have stayed there but I felt it was rather too prominent a position and whilst the surrounding mud was baked hard and dry even the slightest shower would have made departure interesting. Luckily just a mile or two further along the road there was a cracking grassy area below the bridge over the river that feeds the reservoir that was an ideal place to stay. An Armenian family arrived for a picnic later and I was pleased to see that they took all their rubbish away, sadly most previous visitors had not.

Further on from Sisian the Vorotnavank monastery occupied a commanding position overlooking the Vorotan river. Some restoration work was underway with a couple of guys working at height to reroof a side chapel on scaffolding that looked likely to ensure a stairway to heaven. The road was again the main route through to Kapan and eventually Iran via Meghri but carried little traffic although there was a noticeable increase in military vehicles as this part of Armenia is surrounded by areas disputed with Azerbaijan. The invasion of the Nagorno Karabakh region displaced 100,000 Armenians and during their hasty departure over 200 people died in a fire at a fuel depot as they fled to Goris and the surrounding areas in 2023. The exclave of Nakhchivan is away to the west and another source of tension as it is a geographically separated region of Azerbaijan. En route to Goris I checked out the Wings of Tatev cable car but being a Monday it was closed : I assumed Easter Monday would count as a holiday but not in these parts so carried on down in to the town where a friendly lad filled the van with diesel. This tank will get me back to Tbilisi and beyond as just ten miles further on would mark my turning point on this trip. Should the borders of Azerbaijan open one day then I would definitely return as I would also like to reach those higher and more remote parts of Georgia closed by snow for the moment. The friends heading to Russia finally made it over that snow bound border after a 3 day wait at lower levels and a 20 hour queue at the border itself, their early reports of Russia and it's people are sounding very favourable. As always a nation's reputation is often founded on news reports of actions and events far removed from the everyday lives of the majority of the populace.

The ancient cave village of Old Khndzoresk was reached by a very bumpy track that would be impossible after rain but after 4km I reached the carpark which despite a slope would I decided do for the night. 

A steep flight of rickety wooden steps took me down to a suspension bridge that crossed a deep valley to reach what was once the largest village in eastern Armenia. Only finally abandoned in the 1950's it housed around 8,000 people in 1,800 households and had two schools, seven tanneries and a couple of churches, most of which remain today and can be freely explored. I spent an absorbing couple of hours nosing around under a hot sun before crossing back over the swaying bridge to head back to the van. A group of enthusiastic army cadets had in my absence set up a small camp for the night but I was well away from them and was amused at how seriously such young people were taking things. Later that evening I booked my tickets online for the Wings of Tatev with a departure time of 10.15 so was off to bed a little earlier than normal.

The cadets were up and about early but quietly and I left in good time, taking the track slowly and thinking about the 4,000 or so miles that lie ahead to get home. I will need an oil change in about 3,000 miles so probably Greece or Italy but I have the filter and lube on board so it should be straightforward enough.

The Wings of Tatev is the world's longest cable car and sets off from above Halidzor to reach Tatev monastery 3.5 miles away. Two cabins run opposite to each other with the journey taking around 15 minutes and at one point sitting 1,000' above the valley floor with the line being in cross section effectively a W as the Tavet monastery is near enough at the same height as the departure point with two towers on an intervening ridge providing the crossing point. I joined a Spanish group as the doors closed and we swayed off over the first abyss with the most remarkable views straight down in to the village. After the mid point we swung out over an even deeper valley where Dinky Toy trucks were grinding up the numerous switchbacks of the steep sided gorge and then the monastery perched on the canyon edge appeared up above us.

After dismounting most people headed off for a coffee so I had the buildings, churches and chapels to myself for a while and then walked up to Tatev village itself, something 99.99% of people never do.. The humble streets and dilapidated housing were fascinating and a small shop enabled me to buy some orange juice and chocolate for lunch at the cliff edge graveyard with expansive views out across the valley to where the plains of Iran begin. The two cabins floated gracefully across in front of me and with my return trip booked for two o'clock I returned to the monastery spotting a campervan with Russian plates. In the cafe terrace I spotted two young touring cyclists who turned out to be French and on a rather demanding tour of the Caucasus, the weather and terrain had been against them for a while now.

Back a little early at the cable car the staff said I could jump straight on and by chance I had the cabin to myself apart from the operator so I could move around freely to make the most of a truly remarkable experience.

I retraced my route to Sisian stopping briefly at Armenia's equivalent of Stonehenge, Zorats Karer, where perhaps 8,000 years ago numerous vertical stones were laid out in circles and lines. A Slovenian woman was heading to Tatev as well but didn't know about the cave village, she was delighted that we had visited Skocjan Cave in her country only a couple of years ago.

I briefly considered staying up by the high reservoir but looming black clouds and the forecast of rain convinced me to return to Yeghegnadzor and try out the Crossroads Camping which has been a good decision. There are few campsites in Armenia and I doubt any would surpass this one. Laid out amongst fruit trees currently in blossom are areas for tents, some raised covered platforms for summer sleeping and two lovely old busses converted for sleeping in with very charming floral decor.

Alongside is the area for campers which I had to myself so I was soon topped up with water and plugged in with a good view across the valley. The shower facilities were clean and efficient although the washing machine was out of order but the ever helpful Svetlana insisted I could use the family machine over at the house. Later a young Iranian couple turned up to stay in a room and we had a bit of a chat with her limited English and Google Translate filling in with Persian as necessary!

My timing has worked well as today has so far seen persistent rain which is forecast to clear overnight so I've been dryIng the laundry courtesy of the fan heater and planning my last ten days or so in Armenia which will revolve around the capital Yerevan and of a few sights to the north en route back to Georgia and Tbilisi by the 6th for a VIP visitor.

Clicky Piccy

On in to Armenia

Sighnaghi has town walls, churches and Italianate housing on wide boulevards apparently but most of this was invisible thanks to thick, cold and wet fog so after a quick walk round on a damp and dismal evening I reverted to the only viable wet weather remedy : beer and chocolate.....2.5l of lager for £1.70.

The following morning was no better so after a quiet and cosy night beside the police station I was away down to the plains where the fog lifted but the rains persisted. Rivers were running at full pelt as I headed towards a small monastery at Ninotsminda where in the same village I was able to fill up with water. Setting the sat nav for another monastery carved out of a rock face took me through the large industrial areas around Rustavi before a poor road led me out towards Lemshveniera through a vicious storm with torrential range and violent squalls. Out of the blue on a perfectly straight stretch of road one such squall caused an oncoming HGV to swerve uncontrollably towards me leaving me no choice but to veer on to the verge and hit the brakes. The saturated grass was like ice and I dropped in to the gulley but fortunately avoided a line of trees edging a field. In such poor visibility I'm not even sure the truck driver saw what happened and he certainly didn't stop so I sat for a few minutes until the downpour ceased and then got out to assess the situation. Self rescue was out of the question as both right hand wheels had sunk in the gunk of the gulley and the trees, the only points to winch off, where not in a usable location. I had trouble finding the power cables for it anyway and had stuff out of everywhere looking for them and my ropes.

The odd car pulled over but no one seemed very keen on assisting : the vehicles here are by and large pretty decrepit and it would have been embarrassing to damage one. Despite the language barrier someone mentioned tractor and disappeared but nothing seemed forthcoming so I started digging towards the line of trees in the hope of squeezing between two and crossing the field. A guy stopped and insisted on trying to drive out for me but of course just revved too aggressively and got me further stuck.

Eventually three guys wandered over from I'm not sure where and with their help after some more digging we began to edge towards the trees. Not wishing to lose momentum it was a close thing as I slalomed between two sturdy trunks and headed towards the hint of a track but before I reached it another saturated patch of mud saw me lose traction. The guys valiantly ploughed across to me but I suggested the older one drove and after much exertion we were finally out of trouble. There was much cheering and backslapping and my large bottle of beer seemed poor recompense but was received with more cheers.

My intended destination, the monastery carved in to a rock face at Davit Gareja, was according to the sat nav down a side road but this was unsurfaced and after a few miles became slippery once more and mindful that my rescuers were far away and dusk was falling I decided to turn round and arrived back in Rustavi just after dark. A spot by the raging river gave me a good place to restore order in the van, place all recovery kit in one location and deal with the worst of the mud before heading to bed. The following day dawned bright and sunny giving me the opportunity to have everything back as it should be whilst the river swollen by rain and meltwater thundered past - yet again any calmer eddies were full of plastic bottles, it is a major issue here. I decided to have a relaxing day so walked in to town for lunch in a bar before soaking up the afternoon sun.

Thus it was time to head to Armenia which involved driving through the outskirts of Tbilisi where I decided to stop at one of the many bureau de change kiosks for some Armenian Drams as they all displayed rates that seemed to tally with my currency app. I only took the equivalent of £20 out as an ATM would with luck give a better rate once over the border and I also filled up with fuel as it is 70p/l in Georgia but a pound in Armenia. The road up to the border seemed very quiet but apparently freight takes a different route as it is mostly heading to the capital Yerevan and at the Passport Control there were just two cars in front of me and two Dutch Adventure Bikers. I was soon stamped out of Georgia and had a cursory customs check before heading over a bridge towards Armenian flags and a security check. 

After this Armenian Passport Control looked at my passport, driving licence and vehicle documents, scanned my image via a camera and directed me to the Customs building. Here a couple of guys took a look inside, ascertained that the bikes were not motorised and then indicated that I should park up and go in to another building. Here a helpful fixer pointed me to a kiosk that would issue my Temporary Import Permit (TIP) and then took me to the cashier who issued a slip of paper and a receipt for the equivalent of £15 cash. This enabled the TIP to be issued and after showing that at the final Customs Barrier I was on my way to see another young man pointing to a range of insurance broker kiosks a little further on. He wasn't wearing warm clothing and had cerebral palsy so was delighted when I indicated he should jump in for the short drive over. 

A very helpful guy, Vova, then issued me with a month's insurance for a rather steep £70 but had I been staying longer the pro rata rate would have been much lower, the TIP incidentally is valid for two years. He could only take cash but was happy to walk me back to the border and explain to the officials that I was just using the ATM, clearly they all know each other very well. After some quick calculations I took out 150,000 Dram (about £300) with a decent exchange rate and no transaction fee and was relieved that both notes and my card reappeared.

Back at the office I ensured that the O and 0 in my number plate were correctly recorded and explained the vagaries of my V5(C) that is the bilingual version of the usual document. He'd not seen Welsh before and being multi lingual, as whilst dealing with me he was also assisting a Russian guy, he was somewhat intrigued. On a whim I asked if he could sort me out a SIM and after copying my passport and producing a form to sign I had 20GB valid for 60 days for £13 which seemed reasonable. Vova warned me that speeding, smoking and phone use were big no no's and seatbelts of course compulsory but also stressed that the police were fair and honest.

Thus once more I was in to a new country with my route south following the Debed Canyon that carries the road and a railway line alongside a fast flowing river with razor wire discouraging anyone from taking a short cut. The road was washed out in places and some buildings looked damaged and I later found out that destructive floods had torn through the area only last May.  A side road took me up to the lofty Akhtala Monastery where the parking guy was happy for me to stay the night for just £2. The monastery lies within walled fortifications and contains some stunning frescoes from the 13th Century and I had a very quiet night overlooking the main valley.

On a wet morning I dropped back down to the main river over a very rickety wooden bridge, picked up the main road and was soon climbing out of the gorge once more to the monastery complex of Haghpat with a cluster of churches and other buildings. Odzun church further on again was bustling as it was Palm Sunday and was well situated with snow capped mountains behind that a hesitant sun was lighting up.

Alaverdi was a classic example of post Soviet industrial decay and soon led on to Armenia's 3rd largest city Vanadzor where I turned south to Dilijan where I spent the night near its park by the football pitch. A French camper swung round in the car park but didn't stop and on a damp evening I was otherwise undisturbed. My intention to visit the town museum was thwarted by Monday closing so instead I took the road up to the Haghartsin Monastery in the Dilijan National Park which soon passed above the snow line. Unfortunately fog rather took the edge off things although the buildings and their interiors were fascinating. An old guy in a hi vis approached me for parking and again I was struck by people's honesty as he held up two fingers which I took to mean 2000 Dram, about four quid. He shook his head and withdrew some coins from his pocket to show me he only wanted 200, about 40p....

My route south lay across a mountain range to Lake Sevan which occupies about one sixth of Armenia's land mass and a good road climbed steadily before passing under the highest ridges in a long straight tunnel. Emerging on the other side saw a marked  improvement in the weather with a much higher cloud base and in the distance the vast lake almost completely encircled by snow capped mountains. A busy road interchange had garages, shops, cafes and supermarkets so I stopped for some supplies and checked out the weather forecast. This implied that from Thursday onwards sunnier, warmer and more settled weather was due to prevail for the rest of the month so I decided I would hunker down on one of the many wild camping spots dotted around the shore. After getting bread and milk in a small shop at the very basic village of Shogakat and watching a freight train roll by I did try the 'Armenian Camp' that P4N suggested was an initiative aimed at helping disabled servicemen back in to work but after heading down there it was all locked up. Nearby pine trees on the shore seemed to offer a good sheltered spot but on walking down to the lake edge I noticed a somewhat dilapidated trailer seemed to be occupied and protected by a large dog.

Thus I returned to the road, back tracked a few miles and then took a firm dirt track down to the shore again beneath the snow clad ranges that mark the border with the disputed territory of Ngorno Karabakh. A strong cold northerly was whipping up the lake but the sandy, well drained close cropped turf alongside some pines offered me shelter with amazing views.

I woke next morning to a covering of snow which melted away as the sun rose and I spent the day walking the shore, planning my onward route and enjoying books from the Powys Library Service courtesy of the excellent BorrowBox app as snow showers alternated with clearer spells and the strong winds made the lake more like a seascape. Yesterday saw low cloud hanging over the area after another overnight snowfall and as the Eber has been working hard over the last few nights I decided to run the genny through it's last fuel to top up the leisure battery and various other items. Tucked away on its cable it was inaudible and ran for several hours on half a tank under a relatively low load. I also plugged in my charger for the engine battery as I have picked up a small fault, probably related to a sensor, whereby the coolant after run pump that kicks in when you turn the engine off to allow the turbo etc to cool down steadily doesn't then shut down. It's not a huge drain if you are driving regularly but as I was intending on parking up for 60 odd hours I pulled the fuse to shut it down and gave the engine battery a good top up. Whilst updating the blog I noticed that the internet on my spare phone wasn't working so assumed the poor weather had affected the infrastructure but at least my reading matter was available offline.

So after several weeks of very mixed weather today dawned bright and sunny as forecast and the true beauty of Lake Sevan and its surroundings came to light. The rubbish is a tragedy but nature still wins out so after breakfast I was away in to the small town of Vardenis where fortunately it had a VIVA shop - my phone service provider. A helpful assistant spent some time sorting out the issue, although I'm not sure what it was and then I picked up some fresh fruit and veg with the best choice for some time, got some groceries in a larger supermarket and was then on my way round the southern edge of the lake in glorious sunshine. Another track has brought me out on to the shore again and I have spent the afternoon soaking up the first decent sunshine in a month. I also checked the tyre pressures and wheel nut torques as I want to avoid the solid nuts on the rear near side that cropped up last year. Restored 3G has enabled me to catch up with the blog and look at my onward plans. If the road South towards the Iranian border is open then I will head that way : the snow is the issue but daytime temperatures of high teens up to mid twenties and overnight lows around ten should see it off soon enough. Friends heading to the Stans via Russia have had to hunker down as the unseasonably late snow has shut the road north of Tbilisi but judging by the forecast things are settling down.

Extra pics click here...

Rainy Days in Georgia.....

I was nicely settled at dusk on my lofty perch when I heard a siren squawk and spotted red, white and blue strobes bouncing off the surroundings. I jumped out and met a guy, not in uniform but clearly some aspect of the police. He asked where I was from and where I was heading and then insisted I jotted down his phone number should I need any assistance and promptly drove away...

Next morning after an undisturbed night I was away out of the valley and over to Kutaisi passing the frozen Shaori Lake. En route I passed through Tkibuli which was a severe and grim looking industrial town with many dilapidated tower blocks from the Soviet era. Kutaisi straddles a river and with the magic of sat nav, and some eagle eyed spotting of one way streets that contradicted it's instructions I was eventually in a residential area where rather like Gino's in Rome a park up was available in someone's garden. I walked through the pedestrian gate, knocked cautiously on a door and then went in to a lobby to ring a bell. With still no response I knocked on a door behind which a TV was playing loudly and an older guy jumped up to greet me. He spoke no English and was profoundly deaf but we managed to communicate through the medium of mime and I was soon parked up having been shown the facilities in a lower basement.

I walked in to town, spent some time exploring a well stocked produce market and then climbed up to the Bagrati Cathedral adjacent to a tall pine tree. As it is the run up to Easter there were priests conducting a service and many people kissing icons and crossing themselves so after a respectful glance inside I went over to the gift shop for coffee and a cake as it had been pouring down. The assistant was delighted that I bought a T shirt before heading back to town and deciding that a meal and a beer in a warm restaurant was needed. I found a small cafe in a basement that did the necessary with pork skewers, chips and a decent local beer. Having mostly dried out I walked past the ornate central fountain, crossed the partially glass floored White Bridge and arrived back at the Stepin Garden Hostel in time to do my laundry after a long hot shower... £6 all in. An Austrian plated van had also arrived and having a pop top had elected for hook up no doubt to power a heater, but I saw no sign of the occupant (s).

The following morning I was away to eventually reach the ruined Geguti mansion before picking up the main road for a few miles east noticing on the way a road sign to Tehran 1300 kilometres away (not enough!) before turning off for the remarkable Katskhi Pillar where a small chapel sat incongruously on a lofty limestone column. Reached by a steel ladder and provisioned by a winch it was a bizarre sight which I enjoyed by myself in warm sunshine.

Chiatura used to be a manganese mining town and a network of primitive cable car routes were installed to get the workers up from the valley to the mines. These have now been replaced by modern French designed systems and allow the locals to get around town quickly and quietly. £2 gave me a day ticket with unlimited rides so I enjoyed 3 of the 4 routes which offered good views of more grim looking apartment blocks, the railway line and river and down in to people's lives as we glided over roofs and gardens. Some of the derelict routes still linger on with the cars looking primitive and decidedly dodgy.

A swerve south was dictated by the disputed area of South Ossetia which, like Abkhazia on the west coast, has broken away from Georgia and leans towards an alliance with Russia. The city of Gori was as recently as 2008 under Soviet control but now sits in Georgia and is ironically proud of its association with Jozef Stalin who was born there. I arrived in the large parking area near the Tourist Information centre just as the sun was bathing the castle in a deep red glow and took a nose at a place right opposite that P4N suggested would fill gas bottles. It was a bit rough and ready but there was some basic equipment lying around and a large gas main with flexible pipes coming off. There was no one around so I walked over to the nearby market which was closing down for the day, bought some fruit and veg and returned to the van for a surprisingly quiet night as the location was effectively in the centre of a large roundabout.

Looking out the following morning I saw a guy over at the gas point, took over my Camping Gaz 907 and after a rummage in his shed he produced the necessary adapter. Cylinders should only be filled to 80% and gas is dispensed by volume so a 2.75kg  cylinder should take about 5l but as he was using a very rudimentary set of scales I asked for just 2kg which took no time at all and cost £3, compared to around £20 in Europe and £50 in the UK. There still seemed to be the necessary air space in the cylinder but I decided to put it to use immediately just to get some gas drawn off so swapped out my Turkish cylinder and used the refill to boil a kettle and then run the fridge while I was in town. My destination was the Stalin Museum which gave an extensive history of the former tyrant's life and times and detailed the many atrocities that arose despite during WW2 his regime being aligned with the Western powers. Outside his humble family  home had I guess been relocated to the museum and his personal railway carriage also stood adjacent to the grandiose museum building. Access to the coach is currently unavailable but I noted the 6 axles, one of which via a belt drove a large underslung alternator that would have provided power and lighting inside. I walked up to the castle which overlooks the town and is an imposing structure although there is little left inside.

A few miles away I visited the remarkable cave village of Uplistsikhe, now topped by an unusual 3 naved Georgian chapel, that spreads out across and inside a large sandstone outcrop. Abandoned at the start of the 18th century it was fascinating to explore the various living quarters, storage areas, wine cellars and other structures carved out over the various stages of occupation. I was taken by the neat rows of hollows that would have taken the huge wine amphorae and the decorative elements of the larger houses. It was an absorbing day so I decided the best course of action was a second night in Gori so I returned to the same park up and said hi to a Swiss couple in a very large motorhome before walking back in to town. On my way back I noticed a van with flashing lights stop by a bank, three guys got out, two with body armour, body cameras and sub machine guns whilst the third carried a cassette to restock the cash machine...

The guides I had picked up in Zugdidi enabled me to plan a route to a number of forts, churches and monasteries with one at Ksani requiring quite a climb up a track more or less destroyed by landslides. From Mtskheta north of Tbilisi I took the dead end valley out to the beautiful Shiomghvime Monastery where again many devotees were listening to various priests, bowing in front of icons and accepting the sacraments. Again I watched respectfully noting that all the women wore headscarves and many were in black. Heading back I spotted a large recreation area amongst pine trees and as the sun was out decided that would do as a place to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Various families turned up but there was plenty of room for all and I watched the efforts made to celebrate someone's birthday with a string of balloons, a large barbecue and eventually a huge box with a ribbon that when opened discharged more balloons and a cloud of blue smoke. By sunset I was the only one left and after a few horses had passed by it was a quiet night.

Down at Mksheta I called at the Samtavro nunnery and then walked in to town to visit the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral within its walled compound. Another service was underway with groups of children dressed in various outfits and to my amusement one of the elderly, bearded priests taking a selfie video as he walked through the congregation.

Out on the street there was a bit of a kerfuffle as one of the various horses that range freely had obviously become unwell and was lying motionless alongside a row of souvenir stalls. I noticed a few minutes later a bearded guy I had seen earlier come charging through town on another steed so assumed he was either the owner or had some equine knowledge.

I avoided Tbilisi as we shall visit the capital when Mandy arrives in a month but headed north on the Trans Caucasus (or Georgia) highway which is one of the few routes to cross the range and thus has lorries with number plates from Russia and the various Stans heading in both directions. It was in good condition and soon had me at the Ananuri Castle and Monastery billed as overlooking the majestic blue Zhinvali reservoir. On a wet and grey evening with the water level way down exposing the muddy banks this was perhaps far from the reality but a large and level gravel area made for a good park up away from the road. The usual dogs came over in the hope of scraps and as often happens one took up residence alongside and barked occasionally for my protection. It was quite reassuring although this country has felt very safe and anyway by the following morning he'd disappeared.

It was a bright fresh morning so I walked up to the Ananuri complex before the day's visitors began arriving and then dropped back south before taking a switchback mountain road over towards Telavi and the Kakheti region of NE Georgia with the Russian border up in the snow topped mountains to the north and Azerbaijan to the east. It is one of Georgia's most important wine growing areas and tours and tasting are an important part of the economy but although there were signs of spring the ongoing poor weather did not show the area at its best. I stock up daily on the delicious bread but fresh salad veg other than tomatoes and cucumbers are hard to come by and by and large the numerous small shops are poorly stocked. I had bought some cooked fish in oil which with rice and veg made a nice risotto but what I thought was orange marmalade turned out to be preserved whole tangerines in syrup so they have been relegated to the back of the cupboard as a future hostess gift. Peanut butter is not available and I dare not succumb to the temptations of Nutella so for now breakfast is usually an egg sandwich .....

P4N had flagged up a place to stay run by an English couple so I thought it worth checking out and was soon pulling up outside Jughaani House Farm. Unfortunately Gaby said they were shut at the moment as they had dug up their land to install utilities and whilst I am very self sufficient I didn't push the matter. Her husband is returning from the UK on a recently purchased motorbike but has experienced poor weather all the way through the Balkans and across Greece and in to Turkey which mirrors the experience of friends who are heading this way that I met in Morocco.

In a spare moment Google 'Chris and Gaby round the world cyclists', you will be humbled, moved, amazed and possibly inspired......

Gaby said that the poor weather I have been experiencing is very unusual and that the winter had started early and was going on late, so those readers in the UK experiencing the fine weather over recent weeks are to be envied. Anyway after a chat about their COVID affected ambition to cycle round the world and plans for a new life in Georgia I went on my way and turned off to Ilia Lake after visiting the monastery at Eniseli. A large and grandiose hotel stood above the lake but is currently closed as many of its clientele were wealthy Russians who would fly in to the adjacent helipad so I took a gravel side track above the river bed and settled in for another undisturbed night as the rain fell. My month of unlimited internet has been a godsend during the poor weather as I can do all my research and planning, keep in touch with friends and enjoy books via BorrowBox, watch videos courtesy of YouTube and my assets vanish courtesy of Trump.....

A short run across the Caucasian Plain has landed me in the self styled 'Love Town' of Sighnaghi where heavy rain has confined me to quarters but at least given me the opportunity to update the blog. Unsettled weather is outside of my control of course, but the way to deal with it is within my remit. Knowing that I can easily refill gas is good news, water is readily available during my travels and despite a limited, or indecipherable choice, food is available and the ever reliable Eber keeps me warm and dry. Passing the shepherds tending their sheep and cattle in all conditions makes me count my blessings and I doubt many return to such a cosy haven as the van provides for me. The numerous free park ups keep living costs down and fuel is about half the UK price so all is well. There are signs of an improvement by next week when in any case I will, with luck be in Armenia for 2-3 weeks so until the next time ....More..

Rainy nights in Georgia

My night on the coast passed very peacefully leaving me rested and alert for the crazy driving in Batumi, one of Georgia's  three largest cities and containing a developed area of modern high rise office blocks, hotels and apartments that looked rather like Salford Quays and Manchester when viewed from the Pennines. I had passed an imposing war memorial and diverted out to the lighthouse adjacent to a cemetery where many of the graves had images of the deceased engraved - an interesting way to remember lost loved ones.

My destination for the night was the remarkable New Chateau Chkaduashi north of Zugdidi where I had stopped briefly to call at the Tourist Information Centre where the friendly lady spoke good English and gave me ten leaflets covering the various regions of Georgia which had more than adequate maps and lists of places to see.

P4N reviews of the park up made references to The Prince and the associated history of the property so I was somewhat intrigued. On arrival a large German Overlander truck had just pulled up and a guy said ' le patron' would be back in an hour or so before leaving us to set up. I moved on to close cropped grass for a better view and more privacy before getting my table and a chair out to begin poring over the new leaflets.

In due course an elderly gentleman turned up and introduced himself as Prince Alain Murat. He was French born but his family, of some nobility and related to Napoleon had come to Georgia decades ago to establish a large estate with a palace in Zugdidi and this building which was the hunting lodge. However they had had to flee to France when the Soviets  invaded and then lived in exile for thirty years. Alain eventually returned but the palace remained in state hands so he relocated to the lodge which was in advanced disrepair and has spent many years bringing it back to life and turning it in to both a home and visitor accommodation. All this and more was learnt during a couple of hours that evening when he invited the German couple and myself over to the house for drinks and nibbles. It was a surreal occasion and he was proud to show us room after room of historical and not so ancient artefacts relating to his ancestral family and the more direct offspring who live in Geneva and Ottawa.

After a very peaceful night I filled up with water before heading off after another conversation with Alain and his wife - such fascinating people.

My first destination was the vast Enguri dam that provides 45% of Georgia's power needs and was built in Soviet times. It is of a twin arch design which can flex 15cm depending on water levels and then feeds 4 turbines further down the valley but these, the pipes and other turbines lower down all actually lie in the breakaway area of Abkhazia which offers some hope for a reconciliation one day. From Alain's terrace we could see the glow of lights from a large Russian military base and indeed the border lay less than fifty miles away high on the ridges of the Caucasus range.

I paid a few quid to walk over to the viewing platform with a bored ticket seller directing me to a bored ticket checker who then directed me to two bored security guards, all rather pointless. However it was a remarkable sight and in an adjacent building a slightly more engaged young man set up the video with an English commentary for a good insight in to the construction and operation of the scheme. In rooms below there was also an exhibition by a local artist of some remarkable 3D portraits with clever masks made of stainless steel mesh mounted on painted canvases.

My route lay north in to the mountainous Svaneti region tucked under the border mountains and characterised by numerous small villages, many containing the defensive Svaneti towers dating back to the Middle Ages. These were sprawled out across the widening valley floor reached after a hair raising thirty miles on the worst 'main' road I have ever driven. Landslides and rockfalls regularly interrupted progress and landslips had left many sections down to rough single track with precipitous drops just beyond the lines of stones placed on the thin edges. It was very wintery up there and all the livestock were free ranging over the road to add to the hazard, whilst the torrential river began as we left the calmer headwaters of the Enguri reservoir behind.

I tried to stay in a rural park up in the village of Mazeri but several feet of snow put paid to that and I carried on through numerous small rather sorry looking hamlets

P4N sent me out of Mestia to a potential location outside of town adjacent to the closed ski lift but in the end I returned to town and parked up opposite the police station by a small park. I took a walk round amazed that such a large place, although perhaps more of a village could survive at the end of such a long and tortuous road : there had been very little traffic other than timber lorries from the numerous mills situated precariously on the occasional flat area in the steep gorge.

I decided to eat out for a change so tried a small restaurant that had a cosy stove going and enjoyed a vegetable based starter and then the local speciality, an enormous round flat bread covered in and stuffed with cheese, served piping hot. This needed a local beer to wash it down but still left me partially defeated. I had a quiet night as the area is between its skiing and hiking seasons as the winter snows melt. There were huge dirty grey drifts piled up around town as the same snowfall that had hit Turkey a fortnight ago had added a late covering to the area. I went to see if the chairlift up to the ski lift was running but both were now closed so I explored the backstreets, did a small shop and then headed out past the small airport to follow the muddy and increasingly snowy dirt track up towards the walk to the Chalaadi Glacier. As there was a choice of good spots just off the track and above the river I decided to park the van, don my boots and head off. I left the Bluetooth speaker playing, closed all curtains, left an old pair of shoes outside and set the alarmed padlocks on the bike cover. Ninety minutes later I reached a new hydro station and then started on the path through the snowy pine forest to the glacier another ninety minutes further on. A young Turkish couple had said they'd had to turn back after half an hour as the snow was so deep but their tennis shoes can't have helped either. I slipped and slithered over the deep snow which obviously covered a boulder field as I went in up to my waist several times. Eventually I reached the raging torrent where the couple had turned round and battled on for another hour before deciding in the absence of any other footprints that further progress would be foolhardy. Yellow and white marks normally at waist height on trees were at or beneath snow level so I knew I was on the path but the glacier snout was still a mile or so away. I retraced my route cautiously and was glad to get back to the track safely. Three young Georgians were also setting out in unsuitable footwear so I explained the challenge that lay ahead and wished them well.

Back at the van as dusk fell it was getting chilly so I fired up the Ever, grabbed a hot shower and was in bed by 8pm.

After sleeping a straight twelve hours I was woken by gunfire and with no explanation other than possibly some training exercise by the military outpost down at the airport I had breakfast and was away to Mestia once more. An idea to visit Europe 's highest permanently occupied village up at Ushguili another thirty miles away on an apparently terrible road was put to one side and after buying bread I decided to retrace my steps out of this harsh environment. Almost immediately I saw a young guy hitch hiking with a large rucksack so pulled over. Vlad spoke excellent English and had just finished working as a snow board instructor for the season which had just ended, hence the lift closure. The late snow fall had not extended the season as it was too soft and he said it had been a mild winter with only one normal week back in February when temperatures remained at -25.

We chatted generally although with heavy rain I was concentrating intently on the atrocious road surface as fresh rocks had come down and the largest potholes were obscured by surface water. He explained that most goods and produce were flown in as Tbilisi was only a half hour flight away. It felt intrusive to ask about the situation in his home country (Ukraine) as I guess he would, like many of his generation, be conflicted about joining up to fight, after all what would you do ..... honestly??

He was heading to Tbilisi via Zugdidi so I dropped him off at Poti as I was turning inland and we were immediately approached by a feisty old Georgian lady who wanted a lift in to the next village. I duly obliged and was amused when an errant steer wandered in to the road and she realised she didn't have any controls, despite sitting on the left.

I'd noticed a lot of Delicia 4x4 imports in the villages, presumably secondhand from Japan as many were RHD and like a large numbers of local vehicles missing front and rear bumpers.

After letting her out I continued on to find a riverside park up for the night where I was immediately adopted by two stray dogs who wolfed down two of the jam filled rolls I'd inadvertently picked up in the shop. Just along the track was a derelict former Soviet state farm and next morning a guy came over and insisted on showing me round and indicated that I could stay there on his meadow for no charge. However I thanked him and carried on to Tskaltubo a former Soviet spa town where the now collapsing but formerly elegant spas house displaced migrants from the dispute in Askhabia.

The Martivelli canyon hosted an unnecessary rash of cafes and souvenir stalls on the walk down to a beautiful limestone gorge where when the water levels are lower rafting is possible. A zip wire passed overhead and excursions by 4x4 were on offer to other gorges and cascades, all part of Georgia's push to develop its tourism sector which will inevitably spoil naturally beautiful areas.

The monastery at Martivelli was an oasis of calm and spring growth with the church containing stunning if faded frescoes after which I headed north to the large Prometheus cave only discovered in 1984 but now artificially lit, accessed by concrete steps with handrails and again supporting a large interpretation centre with attendant cafes and the like. However the visit itself was well worth it with over a kilometre of well decorated passages including 3 vast chambers. A 200m exit tunnel had been blasted out to the location of a hotel from where we were bussed under half a mile back to the car park. Hey ho, I guess it gives less capable people a chance to experience something rather special and provides employment locally.

I took the opportunity to give the van a good spray of pest killer as since my spell on the Chateau lawn I had had a significant invasion of ants and hoped that the closed doors for a few hours would do the trick.

I moved on back in to the mountains taking the road over to the Racha - Lechkhumi valley with a small side valley  providing a good overnight location by a fast flowing river with surprisingly good 4G cover. Vlad had suggested Azerbaijan has closed all land borders since COVID and whilst that threat has receded there are still disputes over Nagorno Karabakh and Nakchivan keeping them closed so I will need to replan some of the trip. In fact it will help as Georgia obviously has more than enough to occupy me for a month, Armenia will take at least two weeks and then 4 weeks or so across Turkey will see me able to return to Europe by crossing in to Greece after June 9th.

Today has been a bit wet and cold as I followed the valley eastwards passing through Tsageri and Ambrolauri stopping at a particularly attractive church with yet more frescoes, golden icons and a superb wooden screen : the rather severe looking and silent monk sat almost invisibly in a corner deterred me from taking any photos inside.

I reached the head of the valley and the snowline once more before dropping back a little to my current location, off and above the very quiet road with the heater on and a good book to read. My first week has been memorable largely due to the huge contrast between the high snow covered mountain valleys and the warmer climates to the south to which I return to tomorrow with a possible visit to the city of Kutaisi for a culture shock......

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