October 04, 2004

Which way to the wild west?

Svaneti Region, Georgia

"A land of deep traditions, violent justice and banditry, Svaneti is the ultimate destination for any traveller to Georgia"

So begins the Lonely Planet's introduction to this unsettled but beautiful region in the mountains of the Caucasus. It encouragingly continues:

"Unfortunately Svaneti remains a dangerous and unstable place. Travellers should only visit with the assistance of a travel agency that has good contacts in the region, as banditry is rife and the only protection comes through blood ties and local honour codes. However there is nobody who can guarentee you a totally safe trip."

Stories abounded of travellers and locals alike being held up and robbed at gunpoint on the buses. Several people I met compared it with travelling in Afghanistan. I had to go.

Exhortations to only go with a travel agency seemed a bit overblown. I felt sure I could handle it myself. Okay, so I may not speak Svan, Georgian, or even Russian. I don't know anyone there and I don't even know how to get there but hey, I've got a friendly smile. That's got to count for something.

I began with the overnight train from Tbilisi to Zugdidi. The train had seen better days. Guidebook promises of conductors delivering crisp bed linen went unfulfilled. The four berth kupe had just two pillows, one mattress which smelt like it had first seen service in Stalin's day, no sheets and no blankets. Two of the three lights didn't work and the door latch kept threatening to lock us permanently inside.

I slept well all the same and by morning was in Zugdidi, just on the edge of the civil war engulfed Abkhazia region. A promising start. Reports on transport to Mestia, six hours up a rough road and in the heart of Svaneti, were mixed. Some said there was nothing, some said the bus had already left. The Lonely Planet helpfully described the road as "lawless and deserted" and spoke of whole buses being robbed. In the end, after an hours wait in the dirt-patch bus stand, a minibus rolled up and people appeared from all corners to get on.

I managed to get a space in the back seat. The collapsing back seat that would be. The next six hours of pot-holed hell consisted of me mostly trying not to be projected through the roof or thrown on to the floor. It was with some relief that I saw Mestia finally roll in to view.

I jumped off the bus at the final stop and looked around the town square for a mini-market. I'd been tipped off to stay with Nino, who owns the store. Lots of people milling about but no sign of the shop. Finally a chap comes up to help, he speaks no English but I manage to get my message across. "Nino?", he says, "That's my sister!". He bundled me in to his little 4WD and we headed back down the road to the shop and a welcoming Nino.

That afternoon and the next morning I put all thoughts of wild banditry out of my head and explored the town. The most threatening thing I saw was a few cows. Mestia was a fair sized town so I longed to get further up the road to the small village of Ushguli. Nino organised a car and driver for the three hour journey. "Where can I stay?", I asked. "Why, with my brother, Dato, that brought you yesterday. He lived in Ushguli". Such is the way of things up here.

The drive to Ushguli was excellent. Passing a few small villages and mostly following a steep valley. Scattered all through this region are tall stone watchtowers, built hundreds of years ago for villages to hide in when raiders appear. It seems Svaneti has been unstable for quite some time.

We soon found Dato and I found myself ensconced in the kitchen with six ladies covering four generations and a table laden with food. They were engrossed in "El Clon", a soap opera from Brazil.

The next morning I walk around the village, the frozen mud cracking beneath my boots, admiring the profusion of stone towers, and the solitary mobile phone tower sitting proud at the high point of the village. The old and the new.

After breakfast I head up a nearby valley. Occasional trucks overladen with straw drive past on the small dirt road. Is this where I'll be attacked and robbed? I wondered. But everyone was friendly and just waved.

I continue up the valley, the awesome sight of Mt Shkhara always looming high in front of me. Eventually I reach the glacier coming down the mountainside, it's fifty metre face towering above me. Rocks occasionally fall from the top, as the ice melts, bouncing hard and fast on the valley floor. I see a good potential photo, a deep blue ice cave in the face of the glacier. I line up the shot with my camera. Wide-angled and very close is called for. I drop my backpack at a safe distance and run across the uneven ground to get close to the cave. Small rocks bounce around me. I glance up to see some much larger rocks on the virge of tumbling from above. I feel vaguely like a war photographer, dodging bullets. Quickly I'm in, take the shot, and run back to my safe haven behind a large boulder. That's enough excitement for me.

I start the three hour walk back to the village. Ahead of me the sun is dropping lower in the sky. Every now and then I turn to look at the mountain once more. Each time impressed by the magnificent shape and colours. I set up my tripod and take a photo, or two just to be sure. Walk a little more. Turn again. Colours are amazing. Surely I couldn't have captured that in my last photo. Unpack the tripod again. Another couple of shots. Finally back to the house. Back to the kitchen and the ladies and the cooking. Back to "El Clon".

The next day I decided to head back, completing the loop via the town of Lentekhi. As I headed across the yard to the kitchen for breakfast I saw Dato and a friend hard at work on his 4WD. Just a few minor adjustments, he indicated. We'll be away by 10.

Ten o'clock came and went, then eleven. I wondered if I should consider hitch-hiking. "Bad idea", says Dato. "While you are with me you are under my protection. Out there you are alone." Hmmm. Okay, I'll wait. At midday all was ready. We jumped in and headed up the steep rough roads through the village. At the edge of the village Dato asked me to get out as he took the car for a spin around a field, just to check. He looked under the car, he looked under the bonnet, he looked concerned. The car was "svetch" he said. I assumed that wasn't a good thing.

He went to his cousin's house to find an alternative. He cousin was out but would be back soon. We sat on a rock and had lunch while we waited. As I looked across at the little stone village, the green fields, and the towering snow-laden mountains I reflected that there are worse parts of the world to be stuck for a few hours.

Finally his cousin turned up and we were off, along with a different friend who was apparently just coming along for the ride. The drive was excellent. Over passes and along valleys and deep ravines. There were no villages or vehicles at all for quite a while.

We reach Lentekhi just before dusk. "Ask for Badri, the town doctor", Dato had advised, "Tell him Dato sent you." After a bit of driving around we find the doctors house. The doctor is not in but his wife is. She's never heard of Dato but she takes me in all the same, plying me with food and drink and putting on the TV. "Beverly Hills 90210", with Georgian voiceover, is showing. An hour or so later Badri arrives home. He barely knows Dato but more food and drink is forthcoming all the same. We end up toasting international friendship with cha-cha, the local firewater.

In the morning Badri drives me to the bus station in time for the 8am bus to Kutaisi, second largest town in Georgia. We arrive a few minutes early to find a car ready to go at the same price. I hop in to the spacious Volga sedan and we're off for the two hour journey.

Four hours later we reach Kutaisi. It seems that the old car, and it's even older driver, are adverse to potholes. There are a lot of potholes between Lentekhi and Kutaisi and we carefully drove around each one. But we didn't get mugged, robbed, or kidnapped and my Svaneti journey is over. Now, where's that bus for Afghanistan?

Posted by David at October 4, 2004 02:29 AM