We left Samtredia, back down the road we had come up yesterday evening in the rain. Today we were riding under clear skies towards a wall of snow-capped peaks. In front loomed the snow capped minor Caucacus. We turned and behind us, on the other side of the wide valley were the massive white peaks of the major Caucacus. The mountains surrounded us today as we cycled down the bumpy road through farming, rural Georgia.
Rural Georgian village
All animals roamed the road – pigs, cows, ducks, geese, a goat.
Farmhouse
Church
A local
The people were very welcoming. James was invited into a local wine producer, and was given many glasses of wine to try. I was ahead on the road, and eventually saw his message to return. We got a tour of the ornate house and farm, including turkeys that responded to my call.
Wine making friends
The kids were curious at the lunch stop.
Georgian kids
We are all excited – camping for the first time since we restarted our trip in March. (It has been too cold up to now..) Nestled in the foothills of the minor Caucacus, we have a great view over the snow capped mountains behind.
When you have a tailwind, make the most of it. We cycled, blown by the wind, and made some kilometres. We also cycled through the teeming rain, punctuated by stops squelching into a café to warm up, and a short visit at the stormy Black Sea coast.
Black Sea coast
That was kind of it, really. We are seeing signs for Yerevan and Baku. Kind of cool. No more photo opportunities as it was too wet and bloody cold.
In Turkey we were invited to endless cups of tea. Today, in Georgia, we were invited to endless glasses of vodka. Flagged down from the road, the elderly gentlemen kissed us both on the lips, and invited us in for some vodka and sausage. He kissed us multiple times on the lips, made sure the vodka glasses were always full, and insisted we eat his sausage. Wonderful Georgian hospitality.
Drinks with a friend
We woke up and looked out the window to see flurries of snow blowing around. Further investigations revealed the pass ahead was closed – not just for silly cyclists but for everyone. The forecast was for a lovely day followed by snow, snow and snow. There was no denying it – it was time for plan B. Back down the valley to the Black Sea.
The same valley was beautiful: blossoming trees bathed in glorious sunlight, with the newly whitened mountains as a backdrop. James and I took lots of photos, and made lots of videos, before the pub-crawl started.
Mountains
Flowers and mountains
Flowers
Roof and mountains
We were brought to the back room by the elderly gentleman and seated. He waved to the barman who pulled out a vast glass keg of clear liquid that he funnelled into a smaller glass bottle. A plate of sausage materialised as well as bread. Motivated by my three words of Russian, the man proceeded to lecture us in Russian, encouraging us to drink. Like in the fairy tails, the glasses never emptied. The bright daylight streamed in through the small window, making it feel like an inappropriate hour to be hitting the booze. The drinks were punctuated with lip-kisses, which I failed every time to capture on video.
I sipped at my first and only glass. James did the drinking for the two of us, making sure that we were not insulting by rejecting this fine Georgian hospitality. I reminded James that we still had 70km to cycle. He seemed to be captivated by the offering of vodka, lip-kisses and sausage. Finally we bade our host farewell, and cycled a further 40km down the mountain before being invited for our next round of vodka.
Next round of vodka
When the weather is good and the road not too long and challenging, we take time to stop and ‘smell the flowers’. Life is all about taking time and smelling the flowers, and this world bike trip for me is about enjoying life while I can – now. This smelling the flowers, letting things happen and going with the flow, is a wonderful part of tour cycling. Every day is different, and what happens is never something you could have predicted the evening before. Tomorrow constant rain is forecast. Maybe we will smell some wet flowers. I wonder what they will be like.
‘By bicycle to Khulo? Not possible.’
‘Why not?’ (Things are often not possible, and you need to delve deeper to find if this is truly the case.)
‘Mountains.’
Ah. OK. She’ll be right.
That was lower down the valley. We are now in Khulo at 850m and heavy snow is forecast for tonight. Maybe the 2025m pass tomorrow will be closed. Hard to imagine after the warm climb up into the beautiful Caucasus mountains.
The valley to Khulo
I found the culprit. A thin metal splinter had lodged itself into my tyre and was causing the flat tyres. I removed it this morning, and will hopefully be puncture-free for some time. (I am now tied with James – we both have had 3 flat tyres.)
Today we followed a river valley into the mountains. The flat road leaving Batumi felt like … India. Tree lined, potholed roads. Shops covered with exotic, curly, wiggly script. A warm headwind gave it all a summer, dusty feel. Trucks coughed black fumes and tooted madly as they ran us into potholes.
And then the road wound its way higher into the mountains, passing rustic little villages, and then climbed to 850m to the village of Khulo.
Over the border to Georgia, and across into another world. This place feels so familiar and so exotic at the same time. Eucalyptus trees like in the Australian countryside. Prominent churches and signs of Christianity at every turn. A crazy mix of buildings from the run-down to the sleek. A city layer of casinos and ‘love hotels’. And the food…. Yuuuum.
Batumi
Today was always going to be a relaxing, slow day. Cruising along the last Turkey kilometres with an unfamiliar tailwind, we passed waterfalls, sheep, and the standard bottles of urine discarded on the side of the road by truck drivers on a tight schedule.
Waterfall
Sheep
Left-overs from truck drivers
Then hello Georgia with its cute script, exotic currency, and modern architecture.
Just made it in Georgia
Georgian money
Georgian architecture
Georgia
And then into the city of Batumi. James and I went on a photo-taking bonanza. It was so exciting wandering randomly through the streets.
The hostel in Batumi
Batumi Georgia
Batumi, Georgia
Batumi, Georgia
Batumi, Georgia
Batumi, Georgia
Oh. And I got my third flat tyre of the trip. I still need to fix it tomorrow morning. The ride into Batumi was done with repeated tyre inflations.
The road to Batumi in Georgia was bathed in sun, but Georgia was not our destiny today. The headwind and flat tyre saw to that. And our little side trips off the freeway to listen to the birds (rather than the trucks) meant that we were still able to experience the Turkey-wide power failure this evening.
Mosque
We saw mosques, fish restaurants
Fish restaurant
boulevards with snowy peaks in the distance
Snowy mountains
and women phoning.
Woman phoning
I had flat tyre number 2
Flat tyre number 2
before we pushed on into the headwind with the setting sun at our back to our final destination of Hopa.
Today the skies were grey and the rain was penetrating. The çorba women were laughing ‘çok guzel, I love you’, and the dog was friendly. The truck drivers were giving knowing winks – going to Batumi? The Georgian seaport has quite a reputation – all along the Black Sea coast. We are going there tomorrow.
Me on the way to Rize
Our breakfast was wonderful with our two super-friendly cooks. We were all laughing at each other’s foreign language skills. They were imitating our ‘çok guzel’, and giving us cause for amusement with repetitions of ‘I love you!’.
Çok guzel, I love you
‘You are going to Batumi?’ Grin (after the photo was taken).
One of our ‘warm up with tea’ stops
The mind remains blank cycling through the cold rain. The kilometres pass like the trucks. I was woken out of my cocoon of thoughts by my new best friend – Fido the dog.
The bones thaw and the mind returns. Black Sea fish, and a warm sub-table heater.
We’ve done it again, but more extreme today. Its 15:00, 80km to go, and a 30km/h dash isn’t happening with a fierce headwind. I stop on the side of the road, trucks whizzing by. I feel weak, hot and frustrated. ‘We can make it,’ says James. I look at him with big sorry dog eyes. Down with a chocolate bar, pump up the music (for the first time on this trip), and the world changes. On, into the evening and night on another adrenaline rush. We’re not doing this tomorrow.
A hidden beach
Today was a good day. We woke in our hazelnut orchard farmhouse looking down over Giresun in the bright sunlight.
Giresun from our hazelnut orchard farm
A lovely breakfast with our host’s family, and then a royal escort by the Giresun cycle gang, being showed all the secret insider cycling tips along the road to Trabzon.
The hidden beach
The mountains are getting bigger
James passed 8000km on this trip, and I passed 7000km – both just a few hundred metres from our lunch stop – the last insider tip of the day.
7000km
7000km
An tea factory tour, followed by a buffet lunch. It was an amazing spread, and James and I (and the whole crew) were ravenous.
Tea before the mains
Plates 1 and 2 for James and me
Plates 3 for James and me
Plate 4 – James and me shared
Thanks to the whole Giresun team for a great day cycling in the warm sun!!
The Giresun team
And, arriving in the dark in Akçaabat, we were swept up by another great, warm welcoming committee. Yeşim we had met in Karabük when we stayed with Kaan – her boyfriend. This time she had a whole crew, lead by the english speaking Ahmet, to take us to eat famous Akçaabat köfte. Thanks!!!!!
Slow in the hills. Sprint on the flats. Off the freeway into tranquil, peaceful and hilly Black Sea Turkey. But time marches on. We make the distance sprinting towards Giresun on the freeway with the spectacular mosque and orange-pink panoramic sunset at our back.
The sunset near Giresun
Yesterday the freeway was noisy, plied by fast travelling and impatient trucks, hurtling along the Silk Road towards the east. The new tunnel (not on the map) yesterday was dangerous. I felt vulnerable on the bike, just waiting to be swept up by a truck being passed by two others with no roadside to escape to. James and I decided to avoid the long tunnel between Fatsa and Ordu and take the coast road that circuits around the mountainous peninsula.
It was like someone had turned on the colour switch. I was taken from the speed trance of the freeway, and started experiencing again. The birds were tweeting, the people were working on the side of the road, and the villages were alive with people.
Jason’s church
Black Sea coast
But it was hilly, more strenuous than on the freeway, and very slow going. I had a bike maintenance date at the bike shop in Ordu (great guys!) to replace the handlebar stem on my bike. And then another 50km to our warm showers host in Giresun.
Ordu bike shop
So, we ate, took the freeway, and then went like the clappers.
Ayran and salad
We were met 30km out of Giresun by Kadir – our wonderful warm showers host who cycled back with us back to his home. At our backs a sky of fire was unfolding. It was a special time, cycling along the straight, flat freeway in the warm evening, constantly turning to see the spectacle behind us.
Mosque
Sunset near Giresun
Kadir has a hazelnut farm perched high on a hill overlooking Giresun. We sat on the balcony before bed looking at the Giresun lights twinkling below us, with the Black Sea extending out on the horizon.
The road is straight. The road is wide. There are lots of trucks. The surface is good. The noise is great. Distance is the goal, and we fly like the wind.
Bike on the Black Sea
We left our friends in Samsun with new matching cycling shirts, and arrived 6 hours later at our new friends in Fatsa. A lovely dinner and hospitality. The language barrier meant that we couldn’t share much more than smiles.
Our host Ahmet
Today there was no beating about the bush. We can cycle like this for a few days to make some distance. A small road would be nice from time to time.
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