1. Intro
2. Recap of week 58 to 63
3. The Georgian mini-Miami aka Batumi
4. Beers on the beach and Georgian reckless driving
5. Teaming up with a bike buddy
6. Mazeri and the 10k celebration
7. Doing the big climb towards Ushguli
8. True meaning of a pushbike
9. Getting used to chacha instead of çay
10. Approaching Tbilisi the capital city of Georgia
11. Pit-stop and full-on bike service
12. Armenia and the route east

I’ve biked from the beachfront city of Batumi and arrived in Tbilisi. A vibrant city where modern lifestyle intermingles with enduring old architecture in charming side streets. My route took me deep into the Svaneti region of the Caucasus Mountains, on an adventurous detour, where glaciers and snow covered mountain peaks act as a mesmerizing backdrop. I visited remote Ushguli, crossed over a mountain pass and woke up to dynamite fishing locals on the river plateau next to Stalin’s birthplace, Gori. Now I am going for a pit-stop in Tbilisi to do a full-on service on my bike.

After spending over two months in rural Turkey, the beachfront city of Batumi offered a refreshing touch with its take-away caffè lattes, jazz playing restaurants and energized crowds drinking beers in bars. Batumi is a resort hotspot for the region and people flock to the beach boulevard to spend their summer vacations. For me, it was a nice feel of a western European-like city and a perfect place to kick back in one of their many hostels. So I ended up spending a week in Batumi before moving up along the coast.

I left Batumi and headed north on more or less flat coastal roads. I didn’t see the ocean for most part of my stay in Turkey so it was good to reconnect with the blue flat marvel. I stayed at beach camps and enjoyed sunset beers before entering Zugdidi. From here the mountain valleys appeared in the distance and marked the beginning of the climb that eventually would take me over the Zagari Pass. It was some slow days with a low mileage count due to the many elevation meters. A feeling of remoteness appeared as I left the concrete paved roads and started to bike on gravel roads. For a day I followed these winding gravel roads which were fighting a heroic battle against the roaring valley river below. Just before the Zagari pass I entered what felt like the last frontier of civilization - the authentic and picturesque mountain village of Ushguli.

From here it was just a few kilometers before the top was reached and a steep descent started on the other side. All of the sudden, the mileage skyrocketed as the roads turned into fast downhill asphalt and I found myself back amongst well stocked supermarkets and vineyards in the region of Racha. I had one more climb to do before I was on a river plateau leading east to Tbilisi. Just before Oni, I did a steep switchback. The humidity and heat of the lower altitudes added to the challenge. The true meaning of a pushbike revealed itself and I was glad to feel the wind breeze on my face as I descended towards the Mtkvari river.

I followed the river and cherished the flatness of it all. I had one more stop to do. Gori, the birthplace of Stalin. I was not too impressed by the place and quickly moved on. The urban scenery of Tbilisi soon appeared and I arrived in this very vibrant city where modern meets old. I have to do a pit-stop here. My bike is long overdue for a full-on service after more than a year on the road. Some parts need to be replaced and I am currently waiting for a shipment from abroad.

I really loved my time in Turkey. I loved the people, the scenery and the roads. Turkey is not like western Europe and that is what is so good about the country. However, when I crossed the border and entered Batumi, I got a feeling of being closer to home. I get that traveling for some is about going far and wide and experiencing completely different cultures. But after a long period away from home I really missed getting a take-away caffé latte and eating pizzas from sidewalk eateries. Walking around the city, I passed jazz playing restaurants and bars with an energized evening crowd. Batumi is located at the Black Sea coast. It has a beachfront boulevard that spans the length of the city. This caters very much for people doing beach vacations and the city is booming with life during the peak summer months. I enjoyed taking long walks on this boulevard and hanging out in the small but charming old town. At night, some skyscrapers would light up and create a colorful skyline. I’ve never been to Miami, but I imagine this could very well be the Georgian version of a mini-Miami.

Based on various experiences from other travelers, I gathered that this is a place that divides people into two groups. Some absolutely hate the city and others find it quite attractive. I fall into that last category. For me, Hostel 47 made my stay extra special. The lovely family running the hostel quickly became my Georgian family. Lika made me feel extra welcome and made it a home away from home. The man of the house was a former professional player for the local football club and he even invited me to go along to watch a Europa Conference League match. The team put up a great effort but sadly didn’t advance. Regardless, it was a nice experience. Football is a universal language and such an easy way to connect with the locals.

Batumi can also serve as a good base to explore the surrounding area and do hikes in the Mtirala National Park. I didn’t venture outside the city. I was saving it all for my next big highlight - The Caucasus Mountains. But first a bit of coastal cruising with sunset beers.

After a really good rest in Batumi I headed north along the coast. The roads were more or less flat and I got to cruise along the coast with views of the ocean to my left and the rising mountain landscape to my right. Cities are scattered along the coast and there are plenty of beaches to stop by and take an evening swim. Same as with Batumi, these beaches are crowded with holiday goers and if you are lucky you’ll find a super cool beach bar with cold beers, groovy beats and a chilled out atmosphere. I happened to pass one and I couldn’t resist pitching my tent right next to it and going for an Ibiza-like evening getting those party beach vibes.

So it was a tired Dani that headed for Zugdidi the following day. Roads connecting bigger cities tend to be busy with traffic. And this stretch was no exception. It also gave proof to the rumors I long have heard about Georgian drivers. They drive utterly recklessly. It just might be the worst I have experienced so far on my travels. Something happens to Georgians when they enter a car. It’s like they transform themselves to NASCAR drivers. Overtaking other cars seems to be the main objective and they do it constantly and at all speeds. That day, on my way to Zugdidi, I even saw a car overtaking another even though there was an oncoming car. And the road was not a wide one. The three cars marginally squeezed themselves together with only a few inches to spare as they happened to be passing each other at the exact same time. I expected furious yelling and honking but no. Nothing. It seemed to be perfectly normal and it was not going to be the last time I saw this happening. I took duly note as this was a good lesson in paying extra attention on these roads.

I don’t think speed limits exist here. I actually don’t think there are other rules than just stopping for red and I also don’t think they need to take driving lessons before getting their license. Out of curiosity I asked a local driver what sort of road rules they followed and the answer was that they mostly just improvise. Go figure. That perfectly explains why most cars I see here are battered up in a lesser or greater manner.

Luckily, you might say, I arrived in Zugdidi in one piece.

Zugdidi marked the end of the coastal roads and the beginning of the climb up and into the Svaneti region. For a long time, I had looked forward to biking along the majestic Caucasus Mountain range. Home to the highest mountains in Europe.

Before I embarked on the challenging roads ahead, I took a private room at a hostel to get a proper night's rest and to shop for food. I met another biketurer at the hostel. Her name is Ines and she is a circus trainer from Austria living in Tbilisi. She had taken a month away from the hustle and bustle in the city before her new job began. Her plan was also to bike to Ushguli and we decided to team up. This was only my second bike buddy so far on my travels and I welcomed the company.

It all began with a modest ascent into a narrow valley with a road that twisted it ways up and in between steep canyon like walls with every inch of it covered in a green lush carpet of trees. At the very bottom, far below, was a roaring river cutting its way down into the rock as it was making an escape from the towering mountains. Our first good viewpoint was the manmade lake of the Inguri Dam. At the time of writing, it was the world's second highest concrete arch dam with a height of 271.5 meters. Households up the valley get free electricity from this hydroelectric dam which was their compensation for having the dam constructed in their “backyard”. The next couple of days we kept on ascending. It felt like we were doing a lot more than 1000 meter per 50 km which was more or less the rough average we had to do. Our days were short mileage wise with long lunch breaks giving us plenty of time to take in the great scenery.

Finding camping spots in a narrow valley is a bit tricky. There is a limited amount of flat ground. On one side you have a steep fall down to the river and on the other you have a steep hillside going several hundred meters up. We had to be creative and found spots in front of abandoned buildings and befriended kind locals who offered us to sleep in their gardens. So when an opportunity for a good night’s sleep came along, you thankfully accepted even though there were still some hours of day left to bike. As a result, our days were often shorter than 50 km and the slowest I've ever been for ages. But who really cares. I was spending time in good company surrounded by amazing landscapes. Before I knew it, snow covered mountain peaks started to appear and the narrow valley landscape opened up. Ushguli was getting closer.

One of the first major towns to pass on our way to Ushguli was Mestia. When I write major you should read this in relative terms compared to the region. Mestia is the tourist hub of the area and sees many buses stopping here. There is one main road going through with cafés, bars, supermarkets and souvenirs shops evenly spread out. The roads from Zugdidi to Mestia are concrete paved and good for cars and buses to drive. But the concrete slabs have a top layer that gets worn off and beneath you have this coarse uneven mix of larger stones. This is not easy to bike on with high speeds. Also there are smaller potholes from time to time which you have to watch out for when riding a bike here. At least the road is not gravel and on rainy days you don’t have to worry about dragging your bike through a muddy mess.

Ines, my bike buddy, had already heard enough about touristy Mestia so she suggested we visit the valley of Mazeri. Nothing much goes on in Mazeri. There is a very small and basic market where you can get some pasta and wine. Rest of the place is made up of authentic local stone houses. If this is what you are looking for you have found the right place. The quietness and slow paced atmosphere suited us perfectly. And as we entered the valley we got greeted by the double peaked and iconic mountain of Ushba which is a gorgeous piece of scenery. Without thinking too much about it we agreed in perfect harmony to take a few days off the bike to explore the area.

A very important thing happened just before Mazeri. I reached a new milestone. On that day, I passed 10.000 km. It seemed like yesterday when I reached my previous and first 5k milestone in Greece. Time had passed by so fast. Looking back, I reminisce about the battles I had with thick snow covered roads in North Macedonia, about my visit to a winter wonderland in Seven Rila Lakes in Bulgaria and about descending towards the Black Sea and having the feeling of going directly from winter to summer skipping an entire autumn season. With a heartfelt feeling I think back to the family visits I had in Plovdiv and Istanbul, being reminded how nice it is to give your mom and the rest of the family a long big hug. I especially remember the extraordinary friendly, kind, generous people of Turkey that made my travels there a top highlight.

After 10k on my dear bike, I was celebrating the day with some good wine gazing upon Mount Ushba as the setting sun was casting its golden glow on the few glittering snow patches still resisting the summer heat.

However, before passing straight through Mestia, we spent a couple of days in the Mazeri valley. I went on an epic hike from Mazeri to Mestia. It was a challenging hike that took me past the foot of the Ushba glacier and over the Gul pass (2.954m). From there I could marvel at the panoramic view of the mountains surrounding the area. Amazing. I promised myself to come back to this area and do more and longer hikes.

The day after my hike, we began the last push towards Ushguli. Ines was well rested and energized but I was struggling with sore and stiff legs. We stopped and shopped in Mestia thinking that we wouldn’t come across bigger markets the next few days. We tested out a place that served lobiani (bread with bean mash) and which had a pet turtle crawling around on the tables. That turtle certainly put a smile on my face. It was very popular with the tourists who all wanted a selfie with the lobiani eating Mestia turtle. Me and Ines had made it to a quest finding the best lobiania in Svaneti and we both agreed we had found the winning place.

It would take us two short and slow days on the road to reach Ushguli from Mestia. On our way we stopped at a picturesque lake which was a deluxe camping spot. We soon realized that this was also a favorite spot for the area's cow herds. Their herds would regularly come on their daily commute. Cows are peculiar beings. They snoop around everything in search of food. We took great care to hang our food panier on high branches but the cows would still try to sniff and peek inside our tents. I had to be on alert and I armed myself with a stick which I frequently used to chase away the cows that were too curious.

Cows are something you quickly get used to in Georgia. They are everywhere. Even in residential areas you would see cows in house gardens. They roam the streets and they don’t seem to have a shred of fear for oncoming cars. I often pass cows just laying on the road with a drowsy and careless look, observing the cars, motorcycles, bikes and pedestrians that have to walk around it. The cows don’t move an inch and they love to hang out on bridges for some reason often blocking traffic. They occupy every bus stop unless it is protected by a fence. And I don’t think I have passed a tunnel so far in this region without a flock of cows resting inside. The few tunnels I passed in and around the Svaneti region are dark and short tunnels. At first I didn’t bother to put on any bike lights as I could see the end of it already from the start of the tunnel. Bad idea! In one of the tunnels, I almost crashed into a cow. It gave me quite a surprise. Lesson learned. In Georgian tunnels you sometimes have to safely zig zag your way around cows.

Cow experiences aside, once back on the road, we were surprised to still see concrete paved roads and it was only on the last day to Ushguli that we had to go on gravel roads. Also, they were making improvements to the gravel road and adding more paved sections. If they are going to complete it all the way up to Ushguli, I don't know. We were lucky with the weather and had sunny blue skies days which saved us from a muddy experience. On the other hand, it made for a very dusty experience. I was happy that I could wear my neck buff as a dust shield. I didn’t mind the gravel road. It was slow biking after all, doing the final elevation meters of this last part of the big climb to Ushguli. It all just added up to the experience of going into a remote place and it felt like a real adventure. After some hours of dusty roads we saw the signature towers of the first scattered small settlements of stone houses that make up the village of Ushguli. We dragged our bikes through the main settlement in search of a camp spot and ended up behind the village on a flat plateau overlooking the highest mountain of Georgia - Mount Shkhara (5.193m). What a perfect way to mark our achievement of doing the big climb to Ushguli. Ahead of us was only a minor and short climb to the Zagari Pass before we started to descend.

In the mountainous regions of Svaneti, the weather is a tricky thing. The forecasts change several times a day and are often not very accurate. We thought we were leaving Ushguli on a dry day but rain came and we ended up spending the entire morning at a café waiting for it to stop. I took the opportunity to get my first lesson in juggling. It looks super easy when a pro is doing it but the simultaneous hand eye coordination of juggling three balls takes some serious skill to master. After a few hours I succeeded in doing one full round catching the third ball thrown into the air. If I can’t find a job at the end of my travels, I can always fall back to being a street performing juggler.

At noon the rain had stopped and we hopped the bikes. I didn’t do much of the final climb before having to dismount the bike and start pushing. It was a steep gravel road up to the Zagari Pass. As I pushed the bike to the top, I relished the opportunity of this slow paced forward motion. On all sides of me I had amazing mountains, plateaus, valleys and vegetation. And as I was not concentrating on riding the bike, I could focus on the beautiful surroundings. That made me realize I have this thing about, or someone might call it a stubborn obsession, doing as much as possible of my touring by human power. I often get offered a ride up big steep mountain roads. Everytime, I thankfully and politely decline, underlining that I really appreciate the kind offer but that I want to do this by myself. Come rain, come snow. Come freezing temperatures, crazy steep or sticky muddy roads. You will still see me either riding or pushing the bike. For me there is a beauty in the action of self powered travel from one place to the other. Just me and the bike. Just me and Tamika. It’s simple and independent. It’s environmentally friendly. It’s quiet and peaceful. That’s how I like it. I don’t do it to be able to make a bragging statement that I reach my destinations all by bike. I do it because I have this simple and nice transport vehicle that carries all my baggage and moves me forward if I turn some pedals. I guess I give true meaning to the word pushbike.

Doing the Zagari Pass was a cloudy experience. I could see the mountains around me but the highest peaks were covered and only from time to time could I glimpse through a hole in the cloud cover. It was still amazing though. As we reached the top of the pass, me and my bike buddy exchanged some cheers and high fives before we started doing the steep descent. I had to clinch my brakes at all times. The road was sometimes just larger stones and at other times a small river. However, we were quickly down into the valley. Local buses don’t go from Ushguli and over the pass. Only private 4x4 cars do this stretch. After the pass there is nothing until you reach Mele. At the bottom of the valley, just after the pass, we saw an abandoned industrial building but quickly gave up the location as a camp spot. Rusty barrels were scattered all around the building and the ground gave off a foul smell reminding us of a toxic dump. We continued onwards and saw a settlement further down the road. It was a ghost town with nearly all the houses left empty with gardens growing wild. Nature was slowly devouring what once looked to be a thriving small settlement with a lovely church perched high up on a lookout point. I assumed the abandoned toxic fabric we just passed was once supporting this little settlement and with the jobs gone, people had moved away in search of job opportunities closer to civilization. The area seemed forgotten and neglected. The roads were rough gravel and did not invite any future settlements. I remember saying to myself that I for one would not mind having a small mountain cottage in this valley.

Ines wanted to visit Zeskho and after that she was looping back to Batumi to see a friend. So we said our goodbyes and I went biking solo again. The roads immediately turned good after Mele. Only a few parts were not paved with smooth and even asphalt. I quickly made it down and back to larger towns with their restaurants and coffee serving bakeries. I passed Lentekhi and was making my way to Oni. The mountains were getting smaller and more lush. A river was dividing a larger plateau in two with several vineyards located on each side. I was in the Racha region and temperatures had significantly increased since I left Ushguli. It was baking hot and, I guess, an ideal setting for winemakers.

By now I was used to getting lobiania and khachapuri (cheese bread). The basic ingredients are the same but the different regions of Georgia have their own variations. If you order a cheese bread in Batumi, you get an open boat shaped bread with an egg on top of the abundant cheese fill. If you order cheese bread in Tsageri, you will get a round flat and closed bread with just a little bit of cheese stuffed into the bread. If you visit Zugdidi you will get their very own local elarji which is mushy cornbread mixed with cheese to get a very elastic consistency. It quickly becomes a quest to try out the different local variations of Georgian food. My clear favorite is the Batumi version of the cheese bread.

In the summer heat, I often needed to refill my water bottle. And if I was not close to a public tap, I asked some friendly locals if I could fill my water bottle at their house. Everytime they made a gesture that I could not misunderstand. The unmistakingly hand motion that invites for a little shot of a strong alcoholic beverage. You know you have left Turkey and entered Georgia when you instead of çay (tea) get invited for a shot of chacha (pomace brandy). Georgians really love their chacha. I’ve heard it is a strong liquor distilled from pomace that is leftovers after the grapes are pressed during winemaking. In Italy this is known as ‘grappa’. Even though I loved my tea time in Turkey, I’ve made an effort to say no to chacha time in Georgia - I don’t think it mixes very well with biking and humid summer heat. Better stick to the hydrating water.

It’s hard to be amazed by any mountain landscapes shortly after visiting Svaneti. When I was plotting a route from Oni to Gori, I laid the route so that I had one last mountain to pass even though I didn’t see it as any potential highlight. The view was good for sure but I had already seen something similar for the last many days - my eyes were on Gori. I could have taken a more direct route from Oni to Gori, but as I looked at Google Maps I saw a dotted line sealing off a larger piece of land in the center north which is referred to as South Ossetia. That area is currently occupied and controlled by Russia and there was no way I could pass through it without a visa which I was not about to get. Clearly, Ukraine is not the only territory that Russia tries to reclaim by force.

It was a pure joy to race down from the mountain after Oni. The fast roads and flatter landscape was a thrill. Once I reached the Mtkvari river, the hills were a barren brown yellowish so different from the lush mountains I came from. I biked along the river from one urban town to the next and found idyllic camping spots on the riverbank. Here, locals escaped the heat and cooled themselves off in the refreshing water. Others were enthusiastic fishermen. Some a bit too enthusiastic. The last night before reaching Gori I found myself a pristine and hidden spot away from the main road. Or so I thought. Early in the morning I woke up to the sound of a splash, then a hollow underwater explosion. It was barely dawn outside and my groggy body was not at all ready to be activated. But I had to figure out what was going on. So I opened my tent flap just enough to peak outside. Not far away two guys were leaning against their car. On the car roof I could spot a bottle of what I assumed to be cacha. The guys were doing one glass after the other. A third guy was busy throwing something into the water. And then, that hollow sound again of an underwater explosion. They were frigging fishing with explosives! Guess this is how you catch fish Georgian style. I was not at all awake enough to go out and socialize with drunk dynamite fishing guys so I silently closed the tent and dozed off to the ground shaking sound of fish being caught.

I was happy to hear their car driving off an hour later. The sun was about to hit my tent so there was no point staying in my tent soon to be furnace. I packed up and left for Gori. I was only a half day ride away. The city of Gori is Stalin’s birthplace. I wanted to check it out and imagined a city with Stalin statues, memorials and streets named after this well known historical figure. But they downplayed it a lot. You more or less just had a museum showing off a lot of photos of Stalin from his early days as a kid to his time as a leader of the Soviet Union. Not a very informative museum and the city was boring so I quickly moved on towards Tbilisi.

Tbilisi was not far away and I quickly arrived after some hours biking into the urban settlements that signaled the beginning of the capital of Georgia. Tamika, my bike, has not gotten a full service yet since leaving home in Denmark over a year ago - long overdue. I also noticed a few cracks on the rear rim in Turkey and during my time in Georgia I counted more and more cracks. The bottom bracket is also acting up. So I am taking the opportunity to stay for some weeks in Tbilisi getting all of this sorted out. I’ve ordered a new rim, a new bottom bracket and a new cassette. I’ve found a bike mechanic to fix the bike. Currently waiting for the shipment from abroad to arrive. And since I recently committed myself 100% to go far east, I need the bike in tip top shape. Also I put in the visa application for Iran which is currently pending. Getting a dental check is also overdue. So I am going for that as well. Tbilisi is a cool and vibrant city. Not a bad place to wait out some admin and logistical stuff.

The plan that I sketched up many months ago in Croatia and later refined on Crete, ended with a long term stay in Tbilisi doing non bike related activities and then a quick ride to Baku in Azerbaijan to celebrate New Year’s eve. At that time, I did not have concrete plans of further touring after Azerbaijan. I intended to use the time in Tbilisi to plan and organize the coming year - whether it was more travels or settling down for a job. If I would decide to do more biketouring going further east, there also was this thing about timing the seasons which a long term stay in Tbilisi would allow me to do. With the relaxed visa free opportunity to stay in Georgia for 12 months, I figured this to be a great plan.

For a long time I’ve had this dream about crossing the great vastness of Mongolia. Traveling the silk road is an epic travel route and it would get me on a path to Mongolia. During my biketouring in Turkey I started to dare to dream big and I was getting serious about reaching the far eastern countries and ultimately Vietnam. Something I had not even considered to be a remote possibility when I left home a little more than a year ago. But overlanding to south east Asia in these times is not easy. Conflicts and COVID are still present. The land border to Azerbaijan is closed due to COVID. So is Turkmenistan. China is totally sealed shut. With the war in Ukraine I expect tourist visas to Russia to be a risky bet and there is a chance they’ll stop issuing tourist visas altogether. All of this meant I did a u-turn and revamped my route to the east. My gateway to the east will now go through Armenia, Iran, Pakistan and India. Celebrating New Year in Baku is not going to happen.

Moving east with the season is still a concern and I want to be able to visit the northern part of Pakistan and India during late spring and summer. Staying long term in Tbilisi waiting for and timing the seasons would require me to be able to cross the lowlands of Azerbaijan in January and from there into Iran where I would head south for warmer weather avoiding some of the higher altitudes on my way. With Azerbaijan having closed land borders due to COVID (you can currently only fly into the country from Georgia) I have to amend my plans and go into Iran via Armenia. And this involves crossing some altitudes close to 3000 meters which I don’t want to do in winter time. So now my journey to the east will continue a lot earlier than I planned in order to clear the mountains of Armenia before serious winter arrives. This also means I need to figure out where to take a winter break for a couple of months waiting for winter to lose its grip on northern Pakistan. Where I’ll take my winter break is a bit uncertain. My options are to ferry to Dubai or get a long term visa in Pakistan. I haven’t locked in any of the options yet. That’s a decision for further down the road. For now, I am just excited about Armenia.

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