14th September: Kutaisi, Georgia to Mestia, Georgia
Up early to get the marshrutka. First we had to get across town, but the ‘every 10 minute’ buses were showing 26 minutes. Just like being in Devon! The taxi wasn’t much, so a friendly driver took us across town, playing music from as many different countries as he could in the 7-8 minute journey. Kaja pointed out that driving here is very similar to the UK theory test where you have to press a button whenever you see a hazard. The only difference here is that the button is the horn!
The marshrutka to Mestia looked full half an hour before it was due to depart but luckily there was another, more comfortable looking, one next to it (which we’d initially not spotted!). We’d just have to wait an extra hour for it to leave. No problem as today was always going to be a travel day and this is how things work in the Southern Caucasus. We hadn’t managed to get food for the journey, but fortunately a woman came over selling lava-hot lobiani. Sorted. Finally, we hit the road at just after 10am, with a pleasantly surprising cross-section of, admittedly, all-foreign passengers – this is not a popular route among locals. Our number including a young family and a pregnant woman. I’d wrongly assumed it would be male-dominated rugged mountain types making the 6-hour journey into the High Caucasus and was very glad to be wrong.
My travel days have been mainly spent writing or listening to podcasts (Never Strays Far, Loud and Quiet’s Midnight Chats, and Football Cliches so far for anyone interested). Today, I’ll have plenty of time for all of those!
After Zugdidi, the proper mountains loomed on the horizon. We peered down over a large, narrow reservoir in which water levels looked to be a good 30-40 metres lower than when full. Periodic rockfalls peppered the roads. Eventually, we had to stop for half an hour as a repair crew were using a crane to lift in concrete walls to where the road had been carried down into the river. Our driver also had to complete numerous side quests, including delivering a giant frying pan to a house and two giant yellow bags of cotton to a trader. At every stop, the air became cooler and fresher. We were able to say hello to the street puppies. The journey was slow, but incredibly rewarding. Around one bend, the distant double-summited Mount Ushba loomed between closer peaks.
As we rolled in to Mestia at around 16:30, the heavens opened. Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go so waited for a brief let up and made a run for it. Mestia is a bigger mountain town with a tourist focus than we expected, but is still incredibly beautiful. As the storm passed, and as one crack of thunder reverberated around the valley, the sun came out for a last glowing hurrah. We watched from our balcony with a tea as the mountainside and Svan towers seemed to go through the whole spectrum of colours. What a place!
