Lectures over for the day, we set off on the first of two long drive days towards Georgia. As before, we driving through wide plains between distant high hills, sometimes cultivated, sometimes left to scrubby grass and grazed by goats, sheep and cattle. After many miles, the hills would get closer as the plain narrow. Eventually the plain would disappear altogether, we would start to climb and the temperature would cool a little as the clouds thickened. Then, after cresting a mountain pass - the highest of which took us to nearly 2,200 meters - we would descend, the clouds clear, the temperature would rise and a new plain would establish itself. This pattern was repeated about three times in all, as we travelled over new road past large towns and small rural settlements, where tractors worked along side men and women with scythes and pitch forks. Eventualy, after following signs for the Sumela Monastery along a high sided, misty gorge, Will turned off the road and into a disused quarry, where we made camp for the night. It was a peaceful enough spot, but once or twice I could have sworn my head torch caught the reflective eyes of some creature of the night staring back at me before it ducked out of sight.
***
The next morning, after a short drive, we reached the monastery at Sumela, or rather the bottom of the road up to the monastery, which is built high into the side of the gorge. However, before attempting the climb, first order of business was meeting up with Martin, a fellow passenger who had gone 'off truck' to do some solo travelling a few days before. Evidently he'd been unsure of when and where to meet us and had ended up at the monastery in the evening of the day before, while we were bush camping in the quarry. He ended up staying at the house of the owner of one the many teashops there, who invited him into his home, fed him, entertained him, introduced him to his friends and gave him a bed for the night, which is typical of the kindness and hospitality we have experienced while in Turkey.
There are two ways up to the monastry: a 3 kilometer drive, and a shorter but steeper walking route. Unsure, we set off on the footpath, but the steep steps and even steeper drop away at the side of the narrow track down to the valley floor below soon got the better of us, so we decided to turn round and hire a taxi with some others of the group who had realised without needing to try that, not being mountain goats, the road route was obviously the most sensible option. Ten minutes later, fare negotiated, we boarded our Dolmus (minibus) and, five minutes after that, arrived at the Monastry, just as the mountain goats got there, but considerably fresher.
There's a final flight of steps, a low arch, then you're through onto a platflorm above the small courtyard that surounds the entrance to a small church, which is built into and out from a cave and covered in frescoes - inside and out - that date back to the 14th century. Despite their age, they've somehow retained their colour and provided us with our first 'wow' of the day. In fact the whole site is a huge wow and one we'd been anticipating since before leaving home. We walked the road route back down and were rewarded with some spectacular views back up to the Monastery above, much of which dates from its hayday in the 19th century, but is not open to the public.
After re-grouping at the bottom in the cafe of the man who took Martin in, where we all bought lots of tea and coffee to say thank you, we headed to a town nearby and had another lovely meal at an ordinary restaurant, where we received more kindness in the form of a free salad to go with our kebab based lunch.
From there we set off on the second long drive along Turkey's Black Sea coast towards Georgia. The coast road is another fast, new road that connects several unremarkable but quite smart towns and passes by about a dozen tea factories, all owned by the Çaykur tea (or chai) company. The other related feature to note all along but high above the coast road, up in the misty hills, is the very many tea plantations there. It reminded us of our trip to Sri Lanka a couple of years ago.
Will made such good time on the new road, that we made it to the Georgian border in plenty of time to cross over the same day. Most nationals, including Brits, pay nothing to enter Georgia, and the whole process was very smoothly conducted by friendly border police, one of whom - who was very interested in the many visa labels already in our passports, for which we had, of course, had to pay - tried to set me up with one of his, presumably simgle, female colleagues who was checking our passports. I, of course, declined his kind invitation, pointing out the ring on my left hand. Formalities (and pleasantries) concluded, we passed through their very smart new immigration building and out into Georgia itself.
[This next bit will only make sence if you've a) been to India, and b) seen an episode of 'Goodness Gracious', a TV show from the nineties about a British Asian family.]
Georgia is great and has many similarities with India. Cows in the road: Indian. Very large potholes: Indian. Low slung cables everywhere: Indian. Strange, unreadable writing a bit like Sanscript: Indian. Houses painted in vibrant colours: Indian. Wide dried-up river beds: Indian. Wooden bridges: Indian. Lush, verdant, misty hills: Indian. Overgrown, ruined fortresses: Indian. That last is a reference to our first stop, the remains of the once important and extensive Roman fort of Gonio, now notable for its huge, thick and largely extant walls, only a quarter of which I was able to walk around in the time we had to explore the site.
So here we are, bush camping again with two more bush camps to follow, in the grounds of a rugby club that Will had spotted last trip. Apparently Georgia regularly takes part in the Rugby World Cup. Well, you live and learn.
TTFN - N
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