From the Black Sea to the Caucasus Mountains
Bikepacking in Josef Stalin territory
On our way to Tbilisi
we fall in love with Georgian bread and supermarkets. We have a run in with security, meet a group of Iranian cyclists and sit in hot sulphur baths with lots of Germans.
Passport Roulette
It has become clear to me on this journey how valuable a western passport is. That I have two is an absolute privilege. With my German passport I can enter 157 countries, visa free. (153 with my British one. Turkey, the country I am about to leave, grants access to 77 countries visa free. Listed as the passport with the least visa free entries is Afghanistan with only 27 – click here to see the list).
Georgia is one of the countries I am afforded the privilege of entering for up to 365 days visa free. I use my German passport at border control in Turkey to get my exit stamp. We are going to apply for China visas and potentially send our passports back to Germany. I therefore want to enter Georgia on my English passport. Passport control for Georgia is inside a modern building. Police officers point towards three long queues snaking back along metal railings. We navigate our bikes through the narrow space in the railings following the people in front. I hand over my English passport. The officer starts looking through, scans the passport and takes a look at me. He then proceeds to flick through all pages. I know what is coming.
“Where did you enter from?” he asks. “There is no stamp Turkey” he continues.
I explain that I have two passports. A mistake. He demands that I show him the German passport. Upon handing it over, the officer appears slightly angry and mumbles in annoyance: “Two passports. No two passports”. I remain calm but see worry in Jana’s eyes. We discussed previously whether a border officer has the right to take your passport away upon refusal. Luckily on this occasion he doesn’t. I get my entry stamp and am told to move on. Easier said than done, considering the tight angle in-between the railings to get around the corner and into Georgia!
A run in with security
After our first night in Georgia in a cheap hotel at the border, we are looking forward to exploring Batumi and indulging in Georgian culture. We have an apartment booked in one of the many high rise apartment blocks littered across the city. The entrance to the apartment block is similar to a hotel from a large hotel chain. It has a semi circular road in front for cars and a large glass front with a reception area on the ground floor.
We push our bikes into the reception area and park them at the back. I go to check us in and Jana waits with the bikes. There are no guests in reception, just a cleaner down a side corridor and two receptionists sat behind a long shiny wooden desk. Luckily for me the young gentleman speaks broken English. The process for check-in isn’t the smoothest. Despite a booking confirmation, the receptionist isn’t permitted to hand over a key until he has verbal confirmation from the flat owner. The only issue is however, that the owner isn’t picking up the phone. Meanwhile there is quite a lot of commotion going on behind me. While I am still trying to understand the check-in process, it appears our bikes have got some attention from a security guard that must have just come back in from a smoking break. He is standing next to Jana, pointing at the bikes and speaking quite aggressively in what I can only imagine is Georgian. I continue speaking to the receptionist as if nothing is happening. Jana seems to be doing her best at pulling the “sorry I am foreign and have no idea what you are talking about” card. I can tell the receptionist is slightly unnerved by the situation as he isn’t really talking to me anymore and is looking over my shoulder behind me. The security guards manager then appears. He seems quite irate as well and is again pointing at the bikes, but this time speaking Russian. Jana speaks some Russian, so I know that she understands him. She continues however to plead her ignorance and innocence. The receptionist has become very uneasy and informs me that “the bicycles are a problem”. To which I reply calmly, “it’s ok, if we are quick here then the bicycles will be gone in a moment”. The poor young man really doesn’t know whether to continue or go and help translate for security.
After 15 or so minutes the owner of our apartment answers the phone and grants the receptionist permission to give us the key. Our intention is to take the bikes up to our apartment in the elevator and store them there. Using a translation app we are told by security that the bikes are not allowed in the building at all. We push them outside and while being constantly observed by security, take each bag off the bike and carry them through reception. Trying to be as efficient as possible we relay back and forth and pile all of the bags next to the elevator. Jana stays with the bikes while I go up with the elevator to the 14th floor and scurry the bags to our apartment.
Using google translate, security tell us that the bicycles can be locked in an underground storage in the building next door. We walk over the road and enter a similar reception area. The receptionist speaks very good English and informs us that there is no such lock-up in any of the company’s high-rise buildings. We ask her to call our friends from security. This receptionist seems to be on our side, or at least understands our intentions. She relays our message to security again, who this time quickly switches from his cold, disinterested, robocop demeanour to actually being quite nice. In Georgian the security guard replies to the receptionist, who looking quite confused relays the message to us; “If you want to store your bicycles in your apartment, then this is no problem at all. The bicycles are just not allowed to be stored in the corridor”. Relieved but also confused, we trundle back to our building and park our bikes in the apartment. What a kerfuffle for what turned out to be absolutely nothing.
Amazing Georgian Supermarkets
Our week’s holiday in Batumi passes in a flash. Unfortunately both of us have colds and so don’t venture much further than the supermarket, the beach or on one occasion into town. To be honest, we are not that impressed with Batumi. In our opinion it is a strange mix of a soviet seaside town, wannabe Las Vegas and a building site. It has a dirty beach and a population mainly made up of Ukrainians and Russians. Maybe I am being a bit mean. The place is OK, but I don’t think it represents what we are looking for and understand to be Georgia.
Our first visit to a Georgian supermarket is cool though. Well, what we see there at least. At the back of the store, in the alcohol section, they sell draft beer! Unfortunately not to drink whilst shopping, but sold in old coca-cola bottles to take away. What a great concept. Also, when I enter the wines and spirits section a lady approaches me and asks if I need help. Her job is almost like a consultant in that section. When I pick up a wine she starts informing me of the variety and asking what I am exactly looking for. As I am still not feeling 100%, I am merely browsing. Another great idea though to have ‘experts’ assisting. The best idea though has to be in the fridge section, between the meat and the joghurts. At first I find the placement a bit odd. There is a large section of juices next to the joghurts. Even odder though is the fact that there is then an even larger section of vodkas next to that! So the order on the shelves goes; salami, vodka, fruit juice, joghurt. I am not complaining, it’s just a bit of a culture shock to me to see a nation more advanced in their vodka mixer preparation and alcohol selling technique than the Brits!
3 great inventions in Georgian supermarkets: Draft beer, alcohol consultants and chilled vodka mixers.
Georgian Bread
We start our ride to Tbilisi with a short day up the coast. Jana still isn’t feeling 100% so we don’t want to overdo it on the first day. After a couple of hours we are hungry. It’s like we have forgotten what it’s like when we cycle all day. We have to eat every couple of hours.
As we ride through a small coastal town, we spot a “bakery”. Basically, we spot large posters with pictures of bread on the side of a shop. It looks nothing like a western bakery at all. It’s a small room of about 3x3m with no decoration on the walls and no counter. There are just two giant round bowls ranging from the floor up to waist height and then a small wooden shelf along one side of the shop. The rack is full of what looks like pizza dough before it’s cooked. Then the two giant 1m diameter bowls are the metal kneading machine and the stone bread oven. Yes, I know my descriptions are bad, but bread in Georgia really is made in round stone ovens that rise up from the floor.
I watch from the door as the baker takes one of the doughs and shapes it with his hands. Once formed he then slaps it onto the side wall of the stone oven. When perfectly baked he removes the bread with a wooden utensil, which to me basically looks like a broom handle. We are sold one of the already baked breads lying on the shelf for the equivalent of 30 cents (€) and get back on the bikes to continue our journey up the coast.
German holiday camp at the Sulphur Baths
Several days in now, we have an 85km ride planned for today, finishing at some sulphur baths that we have found on google maps. The baths look lovely in the images. Considering the rain, we could do with some warm water and some general positivity to help us with the rest of our journey towards Tbilisi.
Cycling along in the rain for a few minutes we notice that our coats desperately need to be impregnated. The rain water is seeping through and our underlayers are drenched. To add salt to the wound, Jana has worn out her waterproof trousers around the crotch. I therefore get regular updates from her as to how far the water has run down her leg. Continuing the theme of things not really going our way, I manage to get the directions slightly wrong as well.
We are now 3km into the 10km detour via Vani, a small village. We make a quick stop to get a couple of items from the village shop. Jana exchanges a couple of pleasantries with the elderly lady that serves us before we head out and get back on the bikes. Just as we are about to start riding, the lady’s husband comes running out of the shop in our direction and hands us over two lollipops. Amazing, we think, and definitely puts a smile on our face. Maybe this is our reward for having gone the wrong way?! I guess everything happens for a reason?!
We follow the dirt road leading up to the baths and arrive after about 15 minutes of pothole and puddle dodging. There is nobody in the near 40 degree water, but a couple of young german boys pitching their tent about 30 meters away to the right. We want to camp here for the night as well so head that way to look for a spot. Having slept at beaches, sulphur baths and popular river spots before, we know that places like this can get very busy at night and even turn into a bit of a party. As we want to continue cycling tomorrow, we look for a camping spot anywhere about 100-200m away, preferably out of sight from the baths.
We set up and head to the water. Several other groups have arrived in the meantime and so there are 6 others in the water when we get in. Yes it’s a bit whiffy, but wow the warm water feels good on our cold and tired bodies. It turns out the others, or atleast 5 of them, are German hitchhikers. So almost like a German holiday camp, we all sit in a circle, exchanging travelling stories in German for a short while.
We sleep relatively well, despite, as anticipated, a group of locals arriving in the night and partying till 2am. At 3am, I am awake again. This time however it’s a cow eating grass right next to my head on the other side of the thin wall of the tent. Well, who doesn’t love the sound of nature?!
More gifts and a pessimistic french man
We decide to go into the baths again before leaving. It’s the first sunny day we have had since Batumi, so we hang our wet clothes from yesterday on our bikes while we are in the water. Back en-route towards Tbilisi it is the first time we are able to see the beauty of Georgia’s countryside. The clear blue skies allow us views of the vast green landscape with towering mountains in the distance. In the afternoon it almost gets too hot and reminds us of last summer, riding through Central Europe. The sweat on our backs dries and makes our skin salty.
As we approach the next ascent, a relatively steep 250m, there is a small grocery store on the right hand side with several cars parked in front. We get almost parallel to the entrance when a lady comes running out of the shop. She runs towards us with two bottles of Coke in her hands and stretches them out in our direction. Almost like how riders in the Tour de France are handed water and energy pouches from their team as they ride past. Totally unexpected, but exactly what we need in the heat to help us up the hill. Again, we are blown away by random people’s kindness.
Until now the route to Tbilisi has been pretty easy and we have been on tarmac roads the whole time. The road soon turns into a gravel track however, in a narrow section of a gorge with steep cliffs of rock on each side. The river is now quite a way beneath us and the road appears to continue going uphill. Passing through a small village, consisting of no more than a handful of houses, we turn a sharp left corner where the gravel road continues. To our surprise, coming in the opposite direction is a large group of cyclists! All with bags and setups not too dissimilar to ours, they are a tour group from Iran. The group leader speaks good English, so we exchange information and learn about their journey. Once we explain that we are English/German, one man, actually a French man living in Iran, asks Jana if she speaks French. In French he then explains to Jana the route ahead of us is going to get really hard and that we actually need to have e-bikes in order to ride further. As the group ride away and we cross the river to continue, we can’t help but wonder if the French man is right and that we are going to be stuck in the Georgian mountains!
Yes the route gets tougher, but no idea where the pessimistic French man got his e-bike idea from. We follow the dirt track along one side of the river and look for a lunch spot. Jana notices a steep path leading down to a large green meadow next to the river. From the way that the grass is flattened in multiple places around the meadow, it appears as though this may be where the Iranians slept last night. We find several rocks and sit on them while having lunch. I even get time for a little nap after eating while Jana learns some Russian on her phone. With sore bums and tired legs, we get back on the bikes and continue up the gravel road.
After a night spent on the hillside, we start our day with a heated discussion as to a particular event from the day before. It turns out that after lunch yesterday on the meadow down by the river, Jana placed our “cheese knife” (a small blue pocket knife) and our repair tape for the tent (also blue) on one of my yellow panniers. The two items belong in the yellow bag, but rather than put them inside, Jana put them on top of the bag. After waking up from my nap, I picked up the various bags that we had disassembled for lunch and placed them back on my bike. In doing so, it appears as though the knife and the repair tape have been lost. Our debate is therefore as to whose fault it is that we have now lost these items.
Jana’s argument: I should have seen the knife and tape as they are blue and were on top of a yellow bag. A complete contrast in colour. The bag also attaches to my bike and is therefore, along with its contents, my responsibility.
My argument: Why place the items on top of the bag and not just open it and put them in?! I had just woken up and maybe wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. As I put things away after using them, I was not expecting anything to just be placed on top of the bag.
We quickly realise that arguing/debating is not going to bring the items back, as we are definitely not going to cycle the 40 or so kilometers back to go and get them. They really aren’t that valuable to us. Anyway, maybe the next bikepackers get a nice surprise and are then a small knife and tent repair kit better off.
Later in the day, the discussion is very much over. For Jana at least. But as said, it really isn’t that important. Well. We stop on the gravel road for Jana to take a bathroom break. She disappears down next to the road into a small wood, so as to not be seen by passing cars. We often have a little pack of sweets within reach while on the bikes. At most breaks we then treat ourselves to a couple of sweets to boost our blood sugar levels. Or at least that is the excuse we tell ourselves. We currently have a pack of sour Skittles on the go. As you may or may not know, they are small vividly coloured round sweets. I eat a couple then come up with an idea so as to prove my point from this morning’s argument. Jana has an orange strap on her handlebar bag on the bike. The bag sits in front of the handlebars and is within view when she gets on the bike and starts pedalling.
I choose a skittle that contrasts to the orange strap. Bright green. I place the skittle on the orange strap. Jana returns and stands next to her bike. She mounts the bike and places her hands on the handlebars, ready to start riding. I quickly turn to her and grab the brightly coloured skittle off the orange strap. She hadn’t seen it, despite the stark colour difference. Now whose fault is it about the knife and tent repair tape?! Childish I know, but I think I win.
Josef Stalin and a biting puppy
In Georgia there are often water fountains or taps in villages with fresh drinking water. We use the opportunity to stock up and it saves us having to buy mineral water. On one such stop in a small village called Tsromi, we are filling our bottles as a transit van pulls up next to us. A man gets out and points at something behind a bunch of trees next to the water fountain. He leads us around the side of a wall and points at a statue. “Stalin”, he says and smiles. Slightly confused we smile back. He then gets into his van and drives off. So random we think. Firstly, why is there a Josef Stalin statue in this tiny village? Secondly, why would a random man think it is important to stop his day and make sure we see the statue?
It turns out that Stalin was born in Georgia, just down the road in Gori. Our next destination. This statue in Tsromi is actually quite famous and there has even been a film made about the residents of Tsromi and their personal views on Stalin.
Josef Stalin’s name is being erased from many former Soviet Union countries. Cities have been renamed and statues torn down. It appears as though some Georgians however don’t want his relevance and “importance” to be removed. If, like me, you find the whole thing a little strange and want to know more, click here.
Arriving at our hotel in Gori, we are greeted by Jorji in perfect English. This is our first real opportunity to speak to a Georgian person fluently and therefore learn about the culture. We settle in and then head out to the front garden to talk to Jorji and his wife. They have a small puppy on a lead, tied to a pillar. Jorji’s wife explains that they let him off the lead sometimes but he causes absolute havoc. Whilst petting him, Jorji’s wife explains that the puppy keeps biting them and it makes it hard to stroke him or do anything. I sit on the sofa with Jorji as Jana goes over to the puppy. Our work at GASAH Animal Shelter over winter pays off as Jana is able to stroke and play with him without getting bitten! Jorji’s wife is shocked and insists Jana must have some sort of special animal powers. We can’t speak for Jorji and his wife, but having observed how most people treat their animals in the Balkans, Turkey and Georgia, I would bite my owner if I was a dog.
We are hungry so go to the shop at the end of the road and buy a kilo of frozen Khinkali, a Georgian speciality. Khinkali are dumplings made of twisted knobs of dough, stuffed with meat and spices. Jorji insists that he shows us how they are to be cooked. Whilst waiting for the water to boil, Jorji opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of homemade wine. He pours us each a glass. The Khinkali are dropped into the water and then the trick is to wait until they start to float. When that starts to happen, you know that they are ready, Jorji says. As the Khinkali simmer away in the water, Jorji returns to the fridge. “Vodka?” he asks. Apparently also homemade, he pours us all a “shot”. In truth it is actually more of a glassfull and definitely not possible to finish in one mouthful. This could get messy, we think. Luckily the Khinkali start to float and so the drinking is put on hold. Time to eat. “Help yourselves to vodka and wine, it’s in the fridge”, Jorji says, as he leaves the kitchen to allow us to eat in peace. Having eaten far too much and feeling a little woozy we head to bed.
Local knowledge and the German hitchhikers
Our first stop in the morning on the way to Tbilisi is at the shop at the end of Jorji’s road to buy water and snacks. Packing the bikes with our purchases, a van stops next to us. The driver reaches out of the window and hands us a bottle of fruit juice. We barely have time to say thank you as the driver sets off down the road. Again, such spontaneous kindness.
Today’s route is relatively uncomplicated. We are following a tarmaced country road about 80 km that leads all the way to Tbilisi. I notice that I am starting to get hungry but we want to get at least over halfway before stopping for an extended lunch break. Komoot, our navigation app, is suggesting that we leave this main road and take a shortcut through a village. Looking at the map, we should save quite a bit of time.
We turn off and do as the navigation says. As we enter the village a man sitting on a small chair in front of his house shouts over at us. We don’t understand what he is shouting but we see he crosses his arms to make an X. He shouts “Tbilisi” while pointing in the direction we have just come from. We ignore the old man and continue. Komoot says to go this way, so we will keep going. A few hundred meters further a tractor driver does the same as the old man and indicates that we are going the wrong way. Still trusting Komoot, we continue. As we leave the village the road becomes ever narrower and the tarmac ever worse. Around 1 km outside the village, the tarmac then stops and the road turns to gravel. Another few hundred meters and the gravel stops and turns to dirt. We persist.
The further we go the more boggy the ground becomes. It’s too late now to turn around. We have to get off and push, our wheels are sliding too much and we keep nearly falling off. Even pushing becomes hard work. The wheels on our bikes are so caked in mud that they then clog up on the mud guards. Still hungry, I, start to get impatient. I wouldn’t say moody, but definitely annoyed. I put the bike on its stand and start scraping off the mud with a large stick. Pushing another two meters, it’s clogged again! “Thats it”, I think. Sod this. I take all the bags off and start carrying them one by one through the mud. My shoes, legs, the bags, the bike, everything is muddy! Only 2km to go, says Komoot. Doing her best to stay positive and avoid my rage, Jana battles on, pushing her bike through the quagmire. After what felt like hours, but in reality was about 40 minutes, we get to a crossroads at the corner of 4 fields. We sack off the “shortcut” and take the gravel road to the left, leading back to the main road. The main road we should have just stayed on! It’s OK, we only lost just over an hour in time and now have muddy bikes, clothes, shoes and legs. Yes, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, I know. Cheers, Oscar Wilde.
Back on the main road and searching for the nearest car wash, we are overtaken by a large people carrier. The car then stops just up the road from us and the passengers get out. As they run towards us we recognise them. The German hitchhikers from the sulphur baths! It’s a small world, and Georgia is even smaller.
One positive to take out of the muddy “road” situation. Using a jet washer on our bikes is great fun. The first time we have actually cleaned our bikes since we started 1 year ago!
First impressions of Tbilisi
We settle into our Airbnb in the city of Tbilisi and spend a couple of days exploring. The city is definitely a lot more modern and hip than we were expecting.
As my Dad and Brother arrive in a few days and we will be hiring a car, we need somewhere to store the bikes. Gabriela, a host on WarmShowers has kindly said we can store them in her flat. We go to meet Gabriela at her house, park the bikes in her front room and go out to dinner together. We share travelling and couchsurfing stories over a pizza and a bottle of georgian red. As Gabriela is preparing for her own bikepacking trip, Cairo to Cape Town, it’s fun to see someone in the early stages of planning, like we were just over a year ago.
We are not sure exactly how yet, but we definitely want to try and host or have some sort of connection to the bikepacker/backpacker community in the future. Somehow the stories and experiences shared seem to always put us in a good mood.
End of Georgia part 1. Part 2 coming soon.
Fascinating reading ,as always. Once started ,I could not stop! You’ll miss this life when you come back.
Brilliant read Joel and great experience