Since we couldn’t reach the camp site and the day was still young, we decided to drive back out of the park, driving over the narrow ridge. We reached the first village, where as a small reminder of the Soviet times, an old Russian tractor, was placed at the entrance of the village on a pedestal. The Russians are still famous for their no nonsense design and production of equipment, machinery and vehicles. It has to be cheap and functional. Quality and the look of it are not important! And that shows.
We were now on our way to another beautiful area of Georgia, where the so called “mud-volcanos” are located. Problem was, that there were different names for that, and also the route towards it, was not easy to find. Then we made a miscalculation with another location we wanted to visit. So after figuring that all out, we decided to stop driving for the day and do first some research on the map. Since we entered Georgia and Armania our Garmin devices were not cooperating anymore. So now we depended completely on our own navigator skills. A small medieval fort with a parking near the main road, would be our camp for the night. There was a picnic table under some old pine-trees, where we rolled out the map and we put our happy hour snacks and drinks on the table as well. Looking around we saw it was actually a lovely place, as we were right in the middle of several vineyards were local wine is produced. The scenery was pittoresk.
After a little while a car stopped and a young guy came over to us to ask if he could make pictures of the truck, because this was his “dream camper”. We got into a conversation and it turned out he was Russian and was traveling with his wife from Russia through Georgia in their American Chevrolet Tahoe. A short photo shoot became a long conversation after his wife joined as well.
A white old van came over the small road towards where we and the Russians were parked. Two local wine farmers stepped out and started talking with the Russian (most Georgians speak Russian). One of the wine farmers jumped back in the bus and drove away, to return about 20 minutes later with………..home made wine, bread, cheese, tomatoes and cucumbers. Now it became real fun! All the stuff was placed on the hood of the Chevrolet and together we all had wine and bread with cheese. The Russian translated between us and the farmers and we really had a great time (it was a big plastic water bottle full of home made red wine, so that helps).
When the farmers left, we invited the Russians into our camper for coffee. We made them coffee from our Nespresso machine and they made us coffee the way they do it. He had a small grinder to grind the roasted coffee beans first, then wanted to boil water on his gas burner on top of our table. But that last one I found not such a good idea, so we used our electric the water cooker instead). He explained us about the fancy “coffee culture” in their area of Russia and how important real good coffee is. And yes, when drinking his coffee we fully understood, it was indeed perfect!
We had some good conversations. It’s refreshing and interesting to hear their story on Russia and how their young lives are evolving with all that is happening in Russia. After all we are all humans and most humans want and do the same things. It’s the leadership of the country you belong to, that can disturb the process of your “normal” life. The wine farmers asked him very direct questions which opened the way for pretty deep discussions. Appreciated by all, respecting each other even more.
Next morning we drove back about 60km to the track we had to follow to the mud-volcanos. On the way we made a stop at the Eagle Gorge, a small nature reserve near the town of Dedopolis Tskaro. This is a well organized small park, with well marked trails, a ranger post, toilets and it is partly fenced. To get there was a bit difficult, since that part was not well marked and we had to drive through small streets with low hanging cables in the suburb of this town.
It was actually a surprise to see such a beautiful protected area so close to the city. A deep gorge with steep cliffs, which offer a popular breeding area for a lot of birds and unique mountain orchids. On the parking we met a young Austrian couple who travel with their selfmade camper van. They especially came to Georgia to try out the ski pistes (Austria became to touristic for them), and had very enthousiastic stories about their snow adventures here. Apparently the snow is much more soft and fluffy which pleased them a lot. (And far less ski-tourists).
We hiked the trail along the gorge, which was really worth it. After this small site visit, we continued towards the track of the mud-volcanos. The first 20km were a pot-hole road again, but after that it became an easier sand track. We were absolutely stunned by the beauty of the landscape. Green hills, wide savannas and small creeks. Where the central road from north to south in this “tongue” of Georgia is completely built up, the moment you leave the road, you are in a large uninhabited territory, extremely beautiful!
During Soviet times, huge farms (kolchozen en sovchozen) were located here, which had to produce according to budgeted targets set by the Communist Party. The farms here were either cattle or wheat farms. We came across large empty farm complexes, some are now partly used (what is still usable), by small sheep and cattle farmers. Between the farms and the farmland, we found an abandoned oil field. The field was pumped dry and the exploitation had stopped, leaving the installations behind to rust away.
We entered an area called the Lori Plateau. Its a large flat and very fertile area along the Lori river. Its a large area of wild grass and bush, which really looks like the African savannas. From a mountain ridge we saw that long trenches were made with dykes at the sides. It seems like large patches of wild land were being cleared and plowed and surrounded by these dykes and trenches (the last two looked like an alternative for a fence).
When we got closer, we noticed lines of small trees planted in other “blocks”. It turned out a huge area was being transformed from wild savanna land into an enormous olive plantation. Different stages of trees could be seen once we passed the blocks of cleared land. However, we were actually lost as due to the olive plantation, new tracks were made and existing tracks were blocked. Getting to the mud volcanos became a real puzzle.
A couple of men with two tractors were near a track we passed. They were preparing for spraying a block of olive trees with pesticides. I stopped to ask them for directions. They were very friendly, they invited us to climb through a barbwire fence, to have something to eat and to drink with them. Of course we excepted the invitation, but then that didn’t go as planned. While I tried to move myself between the wires, the barbwire got stuck between my legs and I got my balls hooked to the barbwire. Not very comfortable! Now I was standing there, bend over, between 2 barbwires, not able to move at all, a wife who was laughing her butt off and three Georgian olive farmers (who already had some vodkas shots for their lunch) not able to think of a solution to help me out. Luckily one of them was sober enough to go and get a cutter and cut the wire between my legs, so I could free myself. Never a dull moment!
The men brought some bottles of home made vodka and some bread and cheese. What a great way of getting directions in this part of the world! But it was a great experience, even with the little English they spoke and the zero Georgian we spoke, after a few shots of vodka, there was great mutual understanding, which resulted in nothing more than laughing about nothing!
They were still capable to point us to more or less the right direction and we more or less understood that. After some last jokes about Johnny Depp (Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean, because that was the main thing that came to the mind of our olive farmer friends, when speaking about the Caribbean and Sint Maarten), we said good bye. With extreme care, I crawled back through the barbwires and was happy to reach the truck in one piece.
We drove a couple of miles along olive trees fields followed by wild savanna land and old farms until we reached a big water reservoir with a dam. (Dalis reservoir). The dam was part of a large irrigation project, which was abandoned by the government before completion. Like most dams, this one has a huge affect on the eco-system of the river. In this case the Lori river is known for its beautiful, but fragile gallery forests. These are forests which grow along side the entire river, but only a short distance from the river. From a plane you would see a dark green line, meandering through the savanna. Seasonal flooding causes the forest to grow and shrink, but overal remain the same. The building of the dam and subsequently the reservoir behind it, caused the damage to the eco-system, where the lower part got much less water and a the upper part too much. Especially the lower part of the forest, is shrinking. Besides the loss of trees, animals, who depend on it for food, water, shelter and breeding areas, are also effected by this change.
The enormous olive farms (and further up the river, the almond farms) are also effecting the forest and the river, by extensive water use and pollution because of the use of pesticides.
Several NGO’s are now involved in cooperation with the Government and farm owners, to find a balance, between commerce and protecting this vital and fragile piece of nature. Hopefully it will work out.
Crossing the dam, we entered a border area, for which you need a special permission, since you are getting very close to the Azerbaijan border. We passed a very remote old farm, where people still lived (without electricity), next to a small gorge. To get to the mud volcanos we had to cross the gorge. A deep steep dirt path lead us in the gorge and also the way out. It’s the only way to get over the gorge (with a dried up river).
From here we felt like being in no-man’s lands. Crossing over slippery hill ridges we drove very close to the border, with huge mountains on the Azerbaijan side. There were no more farms, no trees or bush, no humans. We had no idea what exactly to expect from the mud volcanos and where looking in the distance for fountains of mud spraying in the air.
According to Google map, we were now very close and at a certain point (just too late), we had driven into the middle of the volcano area. A not so big hill top, covered with mud and tiny volcano looking mountains. We drove right in it and got stuck in deep dirty mud. The tiny mud volcanos were indeed “pumping up” a muddy substance, which flows down the hill (for thousands or maybe millions of years already). They call them volcanos, but they are not. It’s a canal in the earth crust, releasing a mixture of gas and mud from an underground reservoir.
With 4x4m, differential lock and lower tire pressure, I was able to get out quickly. (I had not much time left, since the truck was “sinking” slowly deeper and deeper like being in quick sand. It reminded me of our adventure on Masirah island in Oman).
Being in a border area without the right permit and messing up the volcano side, was reason enough to leave again after making some nice pictures. Going through the gorge again, we drove on looking for a nice camp spot. Another, though smaller gorge crossing, is were we made camp. It turned out an interesting site, since five herds of sheep with their shepherds and dogs, came back from the other side, one after the other (not to mix up their herds) made the crossing. It was a little bit like a migration in Africa, where you have the great Wildebeest migration in the Serengeti.
These shepherds get up early in the morning and make their daily rounds with their herds, constantly on the move. By the end of the day, they drive their herds back to one of these abandoned farms, which they now occupy for the nights. In Georgia, you still have many predators like wolves, hyenas and jackals. Even with the protection of the dogs, sheep can disappear at night. It seems a lonely life and can look boring for an outsider. On the other hand, they live a life of freedom in the middle of nature. I know of a lot of jobs, which could be much less appealing.
Indeed the next morning we woke up because of the herds of sheep passing again, and the commands given by the shepherds. It was time for us as well to move on.
According to our map, there was no road, where we wanted to go. A road along the Lori river. Still there was a dirt track and we decided to take our chances (instead of driving all the way back and take the tar road). On several places we got very close to the border again and passed signs, saying that we needed a permit. But we didn’t have one! Still we continued to drive this remote off the beaten track of Georgia, a really beautiful area. We enjoyed it so much!
Where we expected to see nobody anymore, there was a very old farm house, with a family living in it. Away from civilization, with no electricity or running water, but with a pack of wolf like dogs (chasing the truck). They probably were sheep farmers and since living close to the border, they had these dogs as protection.
Another surprise was the station of border police not long after that, on the dirt track. So now we have a problem we thought, since we had no permit to be here. Fortunately the two guards were very friendly and just checked our passports and said we could continue.
A steep, slippery track lead us over the mountain ridge, which brought us in into another piece of magical wonderland, with beautiful vegetation and another gallery forest. The area was perfect for a coffee stop! However, the moment we stopped, two heavily armed soldiers jumped out of the bush. I was shocked, was this a hold-up or did we accidentally end up in Azerbaijan? It turned out they were Georgian soldiers on the look out for smugglers or illegal immigrants (we were now very close again to the border and most probably a favorable area for people with bad intentions).
They instructed us to move on an not to stand still, and we saw no reason to start arguing with people with big guns! We had to follow the path through the gallery forest until we reached a not so solid looking bridge. We had to pass it to be able to continue our route as instructed by the border guards and soldiers. They told us to cross the river.
To be on the safe side, I had Marja step out of the truck (and asked her to make at least a hot video in case I would go down with the bridge). With confidence I slowly drove on the bridge and the truck tires barely fitted between the pipe railings. The bridge was making a lot of noise, like it was going to give up. It was made of many steel pipes and I trusted that the bridge was designed to carry heavy military vehicles. A piece of the bridge fell in the water with a big splash and I thought, there we go! Luckily it was just a piece of pipe from the railing and not a support beam. So no real damage was done.
I crossed the bridge with no problems and we could continued our route towards the small town of Udabno. We passed a large farm with almond trees, another section of savanna land being transformed into commercial farm ground. Also these farms use water from the Lori river and the ground water around the river. Do you know that to grow just one almond, you need 3,5 liters of water? Commercial almond farming has a huge impact on the environment, especially in area where water is scarce. Georgia is an upcoming producer on the world market of nuts (besides almonds, also walnuts and hazelnuts), diverting from their main agricultural wine industry.
Extensive concrete channels go along the path we were now driving. A friendly sheep farmer in a truck, pointed us the way to continue, since we became a little lost now. An area of small villages with substance farmers replaced the big walnut farms. After passing the last village, we crossed another area of a huge farm, where trees started to blossom. Big signs with a skull heads warned people (and their animals) no to pass into these farm grounds, due to pesticides used to kill mice (most probably, they like nuts). It’s sad, since these are small mammals who call this region their home. It’s also sad, since a many birds of prey who call this area their home as well, hunt these mice and die eventually from the same poisson.
Huge areas of savanna were “closed in” by long dykes and trenches, ready to be developed for the nut farms in the near future. Apart from the pressure on the scarce water resources, many sheep farmers, who have used these lands for many generations are losing their grazing grounds for the benefit of a few large foreign (greedy) investors. Will see how nature will deal with these farms in the future.
After passing the last big former Kolkoz farm complex, we had to climb a high mountain on a small dirt track. The incline was very steep and the Zetros had to work hard. A very narrow cut out piece on the top (the truck could only very just pass through), was the last hurdle before we reached a large, almost flat, plateau. From here we drove towards an asphalt road (exactly what the sheep farmer had told us). With the last 6km on tar road, we reached the small town of Udabno. For us it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere, but if we had taken the complete tar road, it would have been a matter of a few hours. We would then have reached Udabno from the other side. But for us its about the experience and we got that! For sure, if a next time, we would do it this way again, 100%!
Udabno is frequently visited not because of the town itself (it’s a farmers community, with not that much to see or do), but there are three mountain monasteries. The most well known is the David Gareja Monastery. A unique “fortress” style monastery, most of it is carved out in the rocks. It’s a bit similar with the rock monasteries in Armenia, however, this one is more pittoreske. It’s located on the edge of the border with Azerbaijan, hence the presence of two soldiers on a path to the last cave dwelling of the monastery, who keep a watch full eye on visitors, making sure they will not wonder too far (although, they seemed mostly busy on their phones…..).
Camping was not allowed on the parking because being too close to the border, so the soldiers gave us directions where we were allowed to camp, which turned out to be a nice spot on the highest hill near Udabno, with a view over the small town.
Next morning we went looking for the other two monasteries. The second one was actually below the hill where we were camping on. It was not indicated by signs, assuming it was not as nice and interesting as the first one we saw. A narrow road through a valley, not really suitable for big trucks, brought us deeper and deeper in, and to an hidden field, surrounded by hills with crosses on top. Small piles of rocks were placed everywhere. We saw cave dwellings, some with open fronts, some with doors and windows. I noticed a monk sitting on a chair outside his cave. This was an active monastery.
The road was almost at its end, so I turned the truck around to park it. Another monk was waving a shouting some words. I didn’t know what he wanted and thought that he was maybe displeased with the fact that we showed up in a big truck in their peaceful environment (and if that was indeed so, I would even agree with him. I felt guilty of showing up like this).
The monk came down (it was not a short walk down from the top of the monastery). He was a younger monk, very friendly. He didn’t speak English, but what I understood is that the other monks were still having breakfast and were praying as well, so if we could hold-on for an hour. Since this was so authentic, we decided it was well worth to wait. We offered him coffee and tea, but he kindly refused. This monks live a hermit life, very simple and coffee and tea might already be a luxury for them.
After the hour passed, we walked (actually climbed), the very steep path towards the monastery, but not before he indicated that Marja had to cover her hair and wear a long dress or a long skirt. (I suppose so that the holy spirit could not see that women also have two separate legs). When we arrived we were greeted by another friendly monk. “Our” monk showed us around, and we understood why this smaller monastery is so pure and beautiful. Unseen from the outside, behind a small door, there is an entire church carved out in the rocks, with multiple rooms, corners and a double level areas. The walls are plastered and well decorated with religious figures.
From the church the monk let us up a metal staircase, towards a cave dwelling next to a former church. Along the way up, he showed us damages to the staircase caused by falling rocks. The cliff side against which and in which the monastery is constructed, is slowly crumbling. The former church next to the cave dwelling was actually half way gone. We were standing in the center of the church of which only half was still there and the other half had gone down in the ravine, due to falling rocks. In my mind this meant that getting in and out of their cave dwellings was more like a suicide mission now. Besides hours of praying, preparing their meals, the monks are constantly busy with construction work to keep their monastery and their cave dwellings in one piece. It’s a choice of life, they are extremely dedicated. This made a great impression on us.
Through a back door road, we started our journey to find the next monastery in the area. Canyons, ravines, large savannas and colorful mountain ridges we passed. The road went through a farm, passing the farm house. A small family was living there, they almost looked like from another country or tribe (like from Mongolia or Kazakhstan). They pointed the direction we had to go. Later we ended up at another farm. But now the road ended in front of their farm house. I stepped out to ask the lady for directions. A beautiful girl came out of the house as well, but was sent back inside quickly (like I was in a muslim country, I was not allowed to see her, or she was not allowed to see us…..). The mother didn’t understand me, so I made my own plan and created my own track.
After a long detour, we finally found monastery number 3, high up on a cliff, with a watch tower on top. Also here, we had to park the truck below and climb up a steep hill. This one was also more known and with that more popular by tourists. We were not alone and the monk in charge of receiving guests/tourists, was not the happiest guy (which I could understand very well. What’s the purpose of hermit style monastery life, if you get all kinds of people coming to have a look at how you live?) Also here we found this amazing church built in the rocks. Its really intriguing how and why these monks put so much effort in creating these difficult places.
We left the Udabno area, following the road through the remaining part of the Georgian savanna, towards the city of Rustavi, the city on which we had such a splendid view on our first night’s camp in Georgia. From Rustavi we drove towards Tbilisi where we camped on a lovely spot near a lake.
Unknown to many, Georgia is the country of birth of Joseph Stalin (at that time Georgia was part of the Russian Empire under the Tsar). He was born in the town of Gori. Gori is a town which is still hard core Stalin. A huge museum has been built in the center of town with a park all around it. In the park stands the small house where Stalin was born and a whole temple like structure is built around it. In the Stalin Museum you see many pictures of Stalin, the people he worked with, letters, information about his achievements and especially his fight against Nazi Germany and his victory over the Germans. He is portrayed as a great and successfull leader. Only in a very small section under the main staircase you will find information about his tirannic regime during which millions of people were executed or died of famine because of his failed agricultural policies.
The museum, the park and his birth house are for many Stalin and old Soviet admirers a kind of holy place, a pelgrims destination. It’s the main tourist attraction of the city and hence the city council likes to keep the museum as it is (so instead of focusing on his cruel regime, focus on his “positive” achievements). When you walk through the town, the whole vibe is grey. People seem not very friendly (on the small city market, people seemed to look suspiciously at you as if you are a western spy or they just push you aside when you are at a market stall to buy something) there are no restaurants or bars or terraces (at least not very appealing). If you really want to taste the old Stalin atmosphere, they succeeded with that in Gori!
Leaving this relic of a failed system (communism) behind, we drove away, back in the direction of the mountains, to another one of the most beautiful areas of Georgia, Svaneti. Quickly the city and the populated areas made way for a long forested valley, with here and there a small colorful house along the road, where people who live in and from the forest, sell drinks and food.
We stopped at one tiny old house, where an old lady lives and she invited us in her small house. Really small. It was about 4 by 4 meters, and this included her bedroom, dining room and kitchen. In a corner was a wood stove, which could heat up the place and she could cook and bake on it. Outside was a little porch where she had a small sink, where she could wash the dishes. The toilet was a little shack in the garden below. Behind the house was a little stream with fresh clean mountain water, which offered her drinking and wash water.
Despite the language barrier, we understood that she wanted to offer us coffee and a local delight, the Khachapuri. We took a seat on the only two chairs in the room at the tiny dining table. On old mobil phone with a small note-book was on the table. She took some wood from next to the stove and fired it up.
A big bowl of dough was on a small table. She took a handful of it and started to knead and roll it. She added some fresh home made cheese and herbs in it and put it in a small baking pan in her little oven. At the same time she took a gas burner on top of a gas bottle from under the table and fired that one up as well. Here she was brewing the fresh Georgian coffee. It was so lovely to see this old lady working in her little kitchen and all with a big smile, while keep chatting to us. I was wondering what is her life story? Is or was she married, does she have children, why is she living here all by herself, is it not dangerous (although there was not much to steal from her)? How was her life when she was young. Her youth was lived in Soviet times, but looking at were she is now, how much had changed for her?
While having these thoughts, she took the Khachapuri out of her oven and cut it in halves. It smelt delicious, and the taste was even better. Coffee was ready as well and sitting in her little house, I realized, this is how many people still live in Georgia, Armenia and other places we visited. This lady still was fortunate to live in a beautiful natural environment, with a forest and a river, providing her with her basic needs and in peace. But that’s how I look at it from a western perspective, for her it is probably a harsh way of living.
When we said goodbye, she took us through her garden, which was full of daffodils. She picked a few, and then more, all over the garden she picked daffodils, until she had enough for a nice bouquet. She bundled them together, got a plastic bag with some water and put them in there. She then gave them to Marja with a big smile and a hug. This was so nice, especially when you realize what daffodils symbolize (hope, good luck and joy).
It had been a great and meaningful stop for us. We drove off to our next destination “The Katskhi Column” an unusual rock formation (a real column) with a small monastery on top. Although we were not that far anymore, there was a long traffic jam on the only route leading to it. Big road works were going on, on the 2-lane road, which is heavily used as well. At some parts the road was closed in both directions for an hour or longer. We only had to drive 5km, when we reached the traffic jam. Indeed we lost over an hour and the evening was setting in. But with the daffodils, which got a prominent place on the dashboard, we made it through!
Once we started moving again, we barely could pass the construction vehicles, so narrow it was, but we made it again. A narrow road through the forest brought us close to the column. It was late, so no time to visit now, but we found a really flat spot in the forest, near the little road with a great view on the column. The view got even better when the whole column was lit up for the night!
Not long after we had parked and settled, a local guy passed by and called us. He had some plastic bags with him with plastic bottles of home made wine, which he tries to sell to visitors of the monastery. Normally I don’t trust to buy these kind of home made drinks, since you have no idea what is in it.
But this time, I took a chance, and choose a bottle. Turned out he did not have any change, so I got a second bottle “for free”. Home made wine is without any preservatives and actually “healthier” than the regular bottles of wine.
Next morning we drove the truck to the parking below the Column to first take some pictures of the truck with it in the background. Then we walked to the Column. It’s amazing to see how a small church with auxiliary buildings was built on top of a 40 mtr high straight rock (limestone monolith) column. Now a metal vertical ladder goes straight to the top and only one monk is staying/living there. Visitors are not allowed up the stairs. They are too dangerous and it is too small on top (only 150 m2 area). A small museum (with some artifacts the monks themselves found around the monastery) and a little shop are below the ladder next to a small church, which is open for the public. In the shop we bought two small crosses and two candles from the monk, who had came down from the column. When we left the museum and shop, I realized the monk had not spoken one single word. Must be a very lonely place up there on the Column!
We drove back to our spot where we camped to have a coffee break and to admire the Column again from a distance. I was trying to imagine all the work involved of bringing up all the construction materials and building the church on the edge of the top of that column. You really wonder why these monks go through so much trouble to make these places of worship at the most extreme locations. In this case, they choose the spot to be as close as possible to the heavens.
From an isolated monastery we drove to an ancient town with a turbulent history, Kutaisi. One of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. Once the capital of the Georgian Kingdom and the Kingdom of Imeretie. Presently its the 4th largest city of Georgia, but its population is declining (it used to be the second largest city after Tbilisi). During Soviet times, the city grew extensively due to being dedicated as the industrial center of the Georgian Soviet Republic. In 60 years time the population grew with 500%. Due to the fall of the Soviet Union, economic crisis and political unrest, most industries closed and a large number of the population left the city.
The city created two Industrial Free Zones, with tax free and trade benefits, which is attracting multi-nationals and will hopefully bring back the economic importance of the city. That the city was flourishing during the Soviet times is noticeable by the number of large neo-classic Soviet buildings, the great fountain and the opera house.
We did a little city walk along the streets of the city, where you could see that indeed a large part of the city is vacant, buildings are crumbling and there was not much life in the streets. The few restaurants with terraces looked sad. Where Tbilisi is vibrant and booming, here you (still) see the opposite. Since it started raining, we went inside one of the few restaurants to have lunch. Even in here, the staff looked dis-interested and the few guests didn’t talk much. But lunch was nice and tasty.
It’s interesting to see how a city can grow and decline because of external factors and how it effects people’s life. Having a stable future, job and income security, prospects and seeing progress all have an effect on peoples mood. Not to have all that, certainly has an effect on peoples mood as well.
Time to leave the city, move on and find a spot to camp for the night. Next to a wild river, near an old Soviet era bridge, we found a beautiful spot, which we shared with some free roaming cows.
Going back to history time, we drove the next morning to the town of Tskaltubo, which was a small village, before Stalin decided to change it in a spa/sanatorium resort town.
The town is located in one of the most comfortable climate zones in Georgia due to the fact it’s the lowest level to the sea. It’s sub-tropical, hence the many palmtrees, yes palm trees, growing there. Besides the climate the area also has over 2000 natural mineral water springs.
Stalin came up with the idea, that in order to have a full functioning workforce in the USSR, the workers also needed a rest to re-charge themselves. So he made a law that the Soviet workers had the “right of rest and recreate”. The workers received a compulsory “vacation” of two weeks per year, all paid for by the state, to go to sanatoria through the USSR (of which Tskaltubo was the largest). After being “cured” of tiredness, the workers could go back to work again full force.
All in all, 22 huge sanatoria hotels were built in this area together with 9 bath houses. The buildings were of “Imperial Grandeur”, not like the housing blocks of the Soviet cities. They were luxurious and placed in accordance with a well designed scientific architectural plan, which is still unique up till today. Even a rail road with a station was built and there was a direct connection with Moscow.
When the Soviet Union collapsed, the entire sanatorium town, closed down. There was no government anymore to pay for the vacations of the workers, nor for the staff of the resort town. It must have been very strange to have a 22 huge resorts and 9 bath houses closing down from one day to the other.
Not only that, a time of lawlessness arrived (Georgia was going for independence, but also entered a civil war). The buildings were looted and stripped of most valuables. The civil war (actually two wars), had a huge impact on the resort town. The breakaway regions of Abchazia and Ossetie, with other ethnic groups, didn’t want to be ruled by the Georgian Government in Tbilisi (which Government also had internal struggles).
Georgia lost its rule over the two breakaway regions and due to ethnic cleansing (which also resulted in extreme violence), thousands of ethnic Georgians fled the regions into safe areas of Georgia. As a new, young independent state, Georgia had to deal with this but hardly had the means for it. Therefore thousands of refugees were housed in the abandoned sanatorium hotels. Even today (more than 30 years later), there are still refugees living in some of the hotels.
We visited one and were received by a “guard”. For a small fee his was willing to show us around. A once beautiful building (almost like a palace), now full of graffiti, damaged walls (also due to wear and tear), and stripped of whatever was useful. A couple of rooms are in use by the refugees (there is water and electricity), but the common parts or not usable anymore (like the large dining area, with a stage and a broken piano), the cinema and the kitchen. On balconies you see some laundry and tarpolines to close off for privacy reasons I think. Stray dogs and rats also roam the building. There are even children born in this building (and others).
Another huge resort building nearby, which is the more “famous” one, is completely abandoned (although looking in some rooms, the last residents left not so long ago). It’s in fact a photographers’ paradise. Nature has taken over the structures and it almost looks like an ancient ruin. Frogs made the pool their home and birds are nesting everywhere. The concrete is rotting and this makes the building more and more unsafe as the time passes by. Still people have free access to the building.
In one of the rooms, I saw two beds on which part of the plastered ceiling had come down. There were still personal papers on a small table and in the corner of the room was a little pedestal with religious items (I also saw a Christmas card with a Christmas tree). I was taken by this sight. Despite all the misery these people went through, they still kept praying for better times and hope. A small doll and other kids toys in another room, made me even more sad. I have my opinions about refugees going to Europe and trying to “misuse” what others have built up. But when I see this, there is another side to the story.
The Georgian state is the owner of all the resort buildings and is slowly selling off some of the hotels. Those which are in a repairable state are bought by private investors who try to revive the towns reputation as a spa resort town. A few have been renovated or are under renovation. The entire area is beautiful and is one of the nicer relics of the Soviet era, it for sure deserves a second chance.
A long road towards Svaneti was still ahead of us and this was again a beautiful ride along a river in valleys and gorges. We passed idilic small villages and towns. Climbing higher and higher until we reached a waterfall along the road. Since we were low on water in our tank and this was fresh and clean mountain water, I decided to pump some water from here. It was a bit of struggle, but in the end, with a bucket under a pipe and a pump in the bucket, I could pump water in our tank. I first tried via the inlet on the exterior box of the unit, but the pressure was too low (it went slow and later I found out we also have a leak through that system, which caused a flooding in our garage compartment). But in the end a tank full of fresh mountain water, and we continued.
We passed an old Soviet dam, of which the doors were rusty and ready to give up and flooding the nearby village. The road continued passing under or next to avalanche bridges (some were indeed too low for us to pass). The further we drove the less populated it became. In the few isolated villages (with the tower buildings, the Svaneti area is also known for) we passed, it was if time had stand still. Often a man and a women were ploughing their small piece of land with an ox togehter. On several places landslides had damaged the roads and houses. We also noticed more and more abandoned houses, some nice ones which were now in use as stables for cows and goats. The last village we passed was completely abandoned. This was really the rural face of Georgia.
A broken down Russian bulldozer near a river bed (once used to remove landslides), was a reminder of the fact that eventually the strongest machine will give up and nature will win. For now the bulldozer became a nice object for photography.
We saw more and more rocks on the road and I became a little worried that maybe rocks would still fall down, while we were passing by. It was not raining, so the chances were small but still, the sound or vibration of a heavy truck passing by, could cause rocks to fall. We still had a long way to go, before we would reach our final destination, Mestia.
Unfortunately not long after the bulldozer, we reached the “end” of our route. An excavator was clearing the road from more landslides and the operator told us that the way up was completely blocked with rocks from landslides. We were disappointed, since we really wanted to see this beautiful part of Georgia and the only other way to get there was a 7 hour detour, plus to get there, we had to drive back all the way to the resort city!
Without other options we drove back and although it was disappointing, driving a road back is often like driving a new or different road, since you drive it the opposite way. Before we got back too much in the inhabited areas we stopped for the day to make camp, near the river away from the road.
By now we had decided that we would not make the complete detour, since we planned to leave Georgia on a certain date. During our coffee break – where we had a visit from the local cow population – we planned our remaining days with route. A big green area on the map from the coast towards the mountains and from the border with Abkhazia to Kutaisi was the area we didn’t see yet. Its a fertile flat and low lying area, where a lot of farming takes place.
While driving through the area, we drove from village to village. Villages were built along the main roads with farming land behind it. Most of the farming is done on small or medium size scale. Our most northerly destination was Zugdidi, the regional capital, located on the shores of the Tsjchousji river. The city is only 5km away from the breakaway region of Abchazia. Like Kutaisi, also this city was heavily industrialized during the Soviet time. The Soviets also built an Institute for Tea and Tropical Crops in this city.
During the civil war of ‘92/93 (the war between the Georgian Government and the Zviadisten -supporters from the former president of Georgia), the city was heavily damaged. During the other civil war (between the Georgian Government and Abchazian seperatists), the city was overwhelmed by ethnic Georgians, who fled from Abchazia.
We didn’t spend much time in the city, we followed the river towards the coast. Since the separation of Abchazia, Georgia lost 2/3 of its coast. So the competition for beach front and excess to the Black Sea is fierce. We had positive expectations of the Georgian coast. We first arrived at the small village of Kulevi, but the road did not end on the beach, but at a huge oil terminal (The Kulevi Oil Terminal). There was no beach, but only big oil tanks and a large port with piers for oil tankers. There are plans to double the size of the terminal, making it the largest terminal in the South Caucasus. The terminal is owned by the Azerbaijan State Oil Company. (Azerbaijan is a large oil producer and needs Georgia to export its oil to the west.)
Oil is brought to the terminal by train wagons (180 per shipment). We followed to railroad, which goes along and through a forested area. Between the Black Sea beach and the forest are wetlands and swamps, full of birds, amphibians and other animals. It’s a forgotten piece of wild nature. This stretch of coastal land goes up to the river Rioni, after that you get the port city of Poti. It’s about 30 to 40 kms long and seems like the last piece of untouched coast of Georgia.
It was quite shocking so see the many large dump trucks we encountered on the dirt track along the railroad. We saw why, they are filling in the wet-lands and swamps. They are actually destroying a unique piece of wild nature to create land. New apartment blocks are going to be built by large developers. (Like at so many places around the world). It also meant that we were unable to reach the beach, either because of the still existing wetlands and swamps or because of the construction sites.
Near the Rioni river we stumbled again on an old Soviet bridge, crossing the river to a large piece of seemingly untouched forest. A bridge ready to collapse anytime soon. Symbolic for the point of no return…….
The city of Poti has the largest harbor of Georgia and has a turbulent history. Even in recent times, (the Russian-Georgian war of 2008), Poti was the scene of heavy Russian bombartments and occupation. The port of Poti is of great importance for the Georgian economy. Since 2011 the port is owned by the Dutch company APM Terminals, part of the shipping conglomerate Maersk of Danmark.
Still looking for a camp spot, we found the spots on I-Overlander were not that great. There were even stories of robberies on the beach near Poti. We drove a little bit away and still found a nice piece of beach to camp. 4×4 engaged, we drove on the beach and enjoyed a great sunset at the Black Sea. A young Ukrainian mother was also on the beach with her daughter. She had fled the war in Ukraine and lived and worked now in Georgia. For her looking at the sunset had a different meaning. Because where the sun was going down, was the direction of her motherland, Ukraine. Marja had a interesting long conversation with her. She gave a clear insight about her life in Ukraine, the war and her “new” life in Georgia.
Next day we continued along the Black Sea coast on our way to Batumi, the other booming town of Georgia (first one was Tbilisi). From a distance we could see the sky-line of Batumi along the coast. Batumi is considered the “Dubai” of the Black Sea. It is developing fast. Multiple tower cranes are hovering above older houses in the city, pulling sky-scrapers out of the ground. Batumi is an entertainment and holiday city. Thousands of apartments have been built over the last view years. There are bars, restaurants, casinos and shops. And since alcohol is freely available and it’s cheap and can be consumed in public places, a lot of Turks jump over the border in the weekends and during holidays. (Batumi is actually a big border town as well).
Near a mall we parked the truck and walked around the city a bit. The center of town is a big construction pit. One project alone is good for 23000 apartments! From where we parked, we walked a new center boulevard towards the coast, were an old derelict beach boulevard is located. Large apartment and hotel blocks mark the coast of Batumi and even the boulevard has not much to offer. We stopped at the only restaurant on the boulevard available to have a quick lunch. The staff was unfriendly, unprofessional and not motivated. I tried understand what really attracts people to this city. Maybe we are too early in the season, maybe things will improve when all construction works are finished. Or maybe we are just spoiled with the beach and sea life we are used to in the Caribbean!
Before we would cross into Turkey, I wanted to visit a tire shop to balance the front tires. The steering wheel is shaking when I drive and that is not good. We stopped at a truck tire shop and made an appointment for the next day. Now we wanted to find a camp spot nearby so that we could go straight to the tire shop the next morning.
Near Batumi it’s impossible to find a camp spot, so we drove to the small beach town of Gonio. Here we found an isolated boulevard along a large empty piece of land on the beach. We hadn’t taken a swim in the Black Sea yet, there were many jelly fish and the water was cold, but refreshing. An interesting thing about the water of the Black Sea is that the top layer of the sea water is very light in salinity. This is caused by all the fresh water flowing from all the rivers into the sea. On the other hand, there is an under current from the Mediterranean Sea, “pumping” water with a higher concentration into the Black Sea through the narrow Strait of Bosporus. Water with a higher salt concentration is “heavier” than water with a lower salt concentration. Therefore heavier salt water stays below the water with a lower salt concentration. Below the 150 mtrs the sea is dead, there is no fish (the Black Sea has a maximum depth of 2210 mtrs). Above that level, the sea is rich in fish. The deeper layers of the sea are even poisonous!
The next morning we drove back to the tire shop only to be told that they actually did not have the right equipment to balance the size of tires we have. However, they were so kind as to recommend another tire-shop who did have the right equipment. They even called them to be sure. So up to the next tire shop, which turned out to be a very good option. A large workshop, part of a large vehicle dealership, with similar standards as we found at the Mercedes Truck dealer workshops in Oman, Saudi and Kuwait.
There was a waiting time, but we could wait in the unit and do our thing. Once it was our turn, and they did a thorough inspection of the front wheels, I was informed that one of the front tires (a new one we bought in Oman), was crocked, hence the wheel with tire could not be balanced. The other one was good and was balanced. Now I had to change the crocked one with one of the spare tires, which was a bit of extra work, but that was done as well. For the amount of time spent and work well done, the cost were unexpectedly low.
Before crossing into Turkey we visited a large supermarket in Batumi to stock up and drove back to same the camp spot as the previous day at the boulevard. We did a long walk over the boulevard and noticed that also in this small town, the coastline was pretty much overtaken by big high rise buildings. Three huge hotel complexes were still under construction. A recent storm had caused a lot of damage to the boulevard and all the small bars, shops and restaurant buildings, so also here there was not much to hang around for as a tourist. An abandoned beach bar was even taken over by a couple of horses……can’t have a beer with them!
In the evening we had our small dining table placed on the boulevard, like making our own restaurant terrace. Joggers and people walking their dogs passed by with a smile. We had some nice conversations and in some way, it seemed we were inspiring people, to just make the best of things. Life can be a party, but you have to do the decorating yourself. Even if there are dark clouds at the horizon!
