Georgia

The Georgia bear was a little more tired than his Canadian counterpart

The jump from Samarkand to Tbilisi Georgia was forced by difficult/closed borders into Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan which was always on the plan. So after a day of stitching two small bike boxes together with cable ties and reams of packing tape I was ready to fly. Two days later the bike box and I arrived into Tbilisi airport safely together. I had pretty much finished reassembling the bike when I noticed the front wheel wouldn't turn a full rotation. The front brake disc rotor was horribly bent. Something had penetrated the bike box with such force it had burred the head of one of the rotor bolts. I muttered something about airline baggage handlers then got to work. Three hours gentle metal work gradually put the rotor back into the millimetre perfect shape required (after a trip to a nearby hardware store for vice grips and two steel rulers - perfect tools for straightening disc rotors).

On the road again quickly out of Tbilisi city traffic Georgia began to captivate me. Leafy tree lined roads, ancient stone and steel cottages with a river glimpsed through the trees. No long run corrugated iron here, this was 6mm heavy rusted steel plate.  The villages had rough rustic character, not pretty but continually interesting. 

I had revised my route to link up a series of camps I had found from various sources. First day followed the river Kura into Dzegri, a tiny village on the wine trail. Google maps lead me on the most convoluted back lane path to an unmarked steel gate. Underneath the gate I could see the noses of 4 Alsatian dogs, I timidly knocked on the gate, immediately drowned out by the Alsatian chorus. At that moment Dimitri, the owner and winemaker pulled up in his vehicle with son Michaele. “No the camp is not open yet, you need to ring in advance”.

Within moments the tone had softened to “Please come inside and rest I will ring a neighbour who may have a bed”. Then another quick shift as Dimitri looked at my load “Do you have a tent?”. Minutes later the tent was parked under the laden fruit trees in the little vineyard/orchard courtyard.  By the time my tent was up, Marina, Dimitri’s Russian wife had laid a small spread for afternoon tea, cheese, bread, grapes, jam, yoghurt, and a large red wine. Dimitri produces 20 wines under the brand of Bantle wine, very good wines. I tasted 6, including a beautiful sweet dessert wine and a cherry liqueur. I was quite happy.

The winery itself looked chaotic, with blue plastic barrels, huge glass bottles and various chemistry lab instruments. Dimitri lifted a lid on the floor to reveal huge urn like cavities containing 2000 litres of new harvest each. Despite my 6 glass tasting, I  could see a lot of passion and expertise at work.

Next morning I was up early and had just cleaned my billy after cooking my usual oats and nuts, when Marina arrived with breakfast. Fortunately I have no problems when food appears as the daily bike burn takes care of anything I can eat.

My ride through Georgia continued to follow the Kura River deeper and deeper into a narrow twisting gorge dotted with villages on the steep banks on either side. Small swing bridges connect the far side of the river at each village. I camped at Gori then Borjomi on the edge of the Borjomi Nature Reserve.

A stomach parasite took the edge off the next few days, including a gnarly climb to the top of the 2000 metre plus Goderdzi Pass. A group of lightly loaded Italian riders passed me on the climb, and started a series of leap-frog meetings on the road all the way to Batumi on the Black Sea coast. It lightened the days with a bit of international banter and fun.

The descent from Goderdzi Pass well and truely deserves its place on the list of the world’s most dangerous roads. It started innocently enough with new smooth seal in sweeping zig-zags. The seal ended, the road narrowed, in places to a truck width (as long as you didn’t mind a couple of wheels hanging over the edge). The edge plunged at least 1000 metres down a steep valley, chunks of the outer edge simply dropped into nothingness. Heavy water runoff frequently gushed down the centre of the road, churned into deep soupy mud. Roadworks and workers lined the entire route with trucks jammed into impossibly tight passing bays. Cranes lifted heavy concrete blocks over my head as I rode past. But the real danger was the people mover Mercedes’ vans, drivers with chronic impatience, thumbs glued to the horn overtaking inside outside, intimidating oncoming drivers with a burst of speed to clear a path. Sometimes there simply wasn’t a path so drivers would sit tooting and yelling until someone backed out. I was saved when two big articulated trucks heavily loaded with reinforcing steel simply couldn’t make it up a very steep hump. Traffic from both sides quickly came to a stop, and I was able to cruise quietly round the edges to enjoy a pure mountain bike descent.

As the valley widened below the pass, a real tourist buzz kept locals busy with rafting, high zip wires, food and coffee. A beautiful scenic area. Reaching Batumi at the shores of the Black Sea was a milestone of 100 days riding and over 8000 kilometres covered. It also coincided with another meeting with the Italian riders, who elevated the celebration for me. For them a week of cycling over, for me two countries to go.

I found the Georgian people a little more reserved and self contained, especially after Uzbekskistan. Tourists on bikes don’t raise an eyebrow or warrant a selfie. There is a strong anti-European (EU and NATO) political movement. Posters line every village wall (elections are in November). Anti-European also means a pro-Moscow move “for prosperity” says the poster rhetoric. Individually, as my experience in the winery showed, people are still essentially good generous and open.

Riding alongside the Kura River into wine country

Typical village lanes

A lot of these old Soviet trucks are still on the road

I love the elegant simplicity of Georgia script

Swing bridges connecting villages up the Kura River Gorge

Celebrating arrival at Batumi on the Black Sea coast with the Italian riders