Mestia to Lentekhi, the views kept me going! #6/13

13 September

The road from Mestia to Ushguli was beautifully paved to the top of the pass. From there things got a little more spicy. Slow and steady dodging more cows than cars I made my way the 30miles to Ushguli, the highest permanently inhabited village in Europe at 2100m. The village is nestled in a valley and is famous for the high concentration of medieval towers clustered throughout the village.

I wearily pushed my bike through the roads of the village which looked more like hiking trails until I found a guest house.

When I asked how much to stay I was told 45 lari ($20)! I said no, no, I would camp in the yard for 5. The woman of the house said 10, I countered back with 7. She agreed and then asked if I would join them for dinner. Turns out I chose the one guest house that is not really a guest house, but is a place where all the locals hang out for dinner.

I watched as they carried in the fresh carcass of a pig and after the sun went down I was invited to sit in the kitchen to stay warm. Surrounded by a dozen people, fresh bread and a giant bowlful of organ meat was my delicious dinner. Throughout the meal, many, many toasts were given with boozy wine. 1st toast to God, 2nd to st. Archangel, 3rd to st George, 4th to family, and so on and so on throughout the night. As a guest I was told I needed to drink my glass to the bottom, which I did once, after that I took little sips despite their insisting. I excused myself at 10:30pm to retire a little unsteadily to my tent.

The next morning the sky was clear and the mountains spectacular. I walked around the village while I waited for my tent to dry from the heavy dew. After stopping at the store for some supplies for the road, I set off towards Zagar Pass at 2623m.

Along the road I passed groups of people cutting grass by hand with giant scythes for their livestock to eat during the winter. The hay was hand raked into stacks and then loaded onto sleighs pulled by a team of oxen.

As I passed by groups of workers they would all stop to wave, and the morning passed so pleasantly that I found myself at the top of the pass without much struggle. From there the bumpy dirt road descended steep and fast 75km to Lentekhi.

People were full of encouragement as I biked past and with minimal kissy noises from men sitting on the side of the road I was able to make it almost to Lentekhi before camping for the night.

Now I find myself drinking coffee and gathering my motivation to ride the 95km to hot, dry Kutaisi.