Georgia, land of cows, gravel and Stalin
With Georgia being unanimously praised by traveling cyclists, I had high expectations of it. But besides being a country of mountains, I didn't know much about it. Here is what I discovered there.
Following my easy passage from the Georgian border, I follow the Black Sea for a few kilometers before arriving at Batumi under the biggest thunderstorm I have seen in my life. The apocalyptic sound of thunder forces even the most reckless to retract their heads with each explosion. Water is emerging from everywhere and the pipes are far from supplying the demand. Fortunately, I have already booked a hostel and sleep dry.
Cow at the gas station.
When the sky clears, I discover a city the complete opposite of what I have experienced in the last month in Turkey. Although there are a few days left in Ramadan, few take offense, the country being Christian since even before the Roman Empire became so. My first impression is that Batumi looks like a cross between Las Vegas, Nice and Ste-Anne-de-Prescott.
It is indeed an eclectic mix of a huge pebble beach, huge casinos and luxury hotels, exchange offices ... and cows. Steps away from casinos and dolled up women from all over the Caucasus, Turkey and the Middle East, cows can be found everywhere you look. Here they graze in a park, there they are in a gas station, almost everywhere they are lying in the middle of the street. My surprise will not stop with my trip to the country, they are literally everywhere.
Cows at the park.
In the end, Batoumi gives itself an air of grandeur with its hotel-colosseum in Rome and other buildings awkwardly trying to combine modernity with an old European style, but with its some 160 inhabitants, we quickly made the tower.
The southern route
Two routes are possible to get to Tbilisi, the capital. The first follows the highway to the north, the second goes through the mountains to the south. Guess which one I decide to take?
The southern route is going to be more scenic.
- Myself, not smart.
When leaving the city, I go up a little, 250 m of elevation gain. Not that bad, I tell myself. The next day, 750 m, the day after, 800 m. Here I want to remind you that my bike weighs 110 pounds with all the equipment. It's heavy.
My bike weighs 110 pounds.
- Again me, who wonders every thirty seconds if I have a flat tire because I am so slow.
I don't have a flat tire, I'm just super slow. I get an impressive average of 5,9 km / h the day before the summit of the pass. Slower than that, you fall to the ground. In my defense, the 30 km on either side of the summit are large soft gravel. And I don't have a Land Rover, I have a bike with slick tires and big saddlebags.
Did you make the southern route more scenic?
- You, who brings me back to my text.
Let it be known that it was beautiful. Was it difficult? Yes. Was it worth it and I would do it again. Ultra yes.
The long rocky climb!
Camping in the mountains.
The roads may be disgusting but at least they apologize!
And then in addition, along this path, I have met people who have encouraged me each in their own way. Two children followed me for a bit on the bike. Murmani, a honey seller, gave me a taste of everything he had on his table. Some suggested that I get on their cars, believing that it could not logically be my first choice to be on a bicycle. A girl asks me:
- Why are you traveling alone?
- Would you make a trip of the same yourself?
- Never.
- Not bad for that I travel alone, there are not many crinqués in line to accompany me!
The Atskuri fortress, dating from the 10th century.
I also had no idea that Georgia had so many castles. But with the country at the confluence of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and the Russian, Ottoman and Mongolian empires, it is no surprise that they have had to defend themselves throughout their existence.
And discovering these castles is most often a surprise since they are not really advertised or touristy. Having seen the fortress opposite from a distance, I had to pass through a small village to take a picture of it. And people didn't seem to understand what interest I was finding in the pile of rocks behind their houses!
Stalin museum
Some time after crossing the pass, I arrive at the town of Gori, birthplace of the dictator Joseph stalin, who ruled the Soviet Union from 1922 until his death in 1953. I visit the supernatural museum dedicated to him, and founded by none other than himself in 1937.
The museum is literally still frozen in the years 1940-1950, when Stalin is practically considered a god. Here he is revolutionary young and attractive. Here he is with the greats of this world - Churchill, Roosevelt and company. Here is a reproduction of his office in the Kremlin, and the house where he was born. Oh, and yes, because we have to mention it, he also killed millions of people and sent 24 million people to the Siberian gulag and beyond, but hey, he was nice to his children and on top of that he comes from here so we like it.
I also learn that Stalin still has living grandchildren in the United States, Russia and Georgia. Of course, they all changed their last names quite a bit. At the museum, in addition to the mini stripped room dedicated to the victims of his government, the exhibitions really focus on his youth, his rise to power, the war he won.
There are a lot of photos, but little context. And further along the way, many tourists from former Soviet republics will tell me about this museum with hatred, saying that they have no interest in remembering this man.
The attractive young Stalin.
Kindness embodied ...
Read more
Since Gori is not far from Tbilisi, the capital, I managed to get there a day early to meet my friend Mathieu. I will share the road with him from Tbilisi to Baku in Azerbaijan. An epic journey that I invite you to read soon in the next chapters!
