Stray
Tbilisi is truly one of the world’s rare gems. A little uncut, hard to find and its beauty is in the eye of the beholder; but for me this place is one of my favourite cities in the world and somewhere that has patched me up over the past few days. You can go from streets more adorned than Paris to a cathedral falling apart, from the sights and smells of an Asian market to karaoke clubs, all in the space of less than 200m.
Arriving as little more than skin and bone after a pretty gruelling couple of weeks in the saddle, under some pretty rough going sickness and serious heat, Tbilisi and its inhabitants turned both me and the bike around. Having been here five years ago I was relieved to find it still had its own uniqueness about, not pretending to be anywhere else or overly-hospitable to people passing through. Ask and you shall receive is a good dictum here, it might not always come with a smile but you will always be welcomed as a guest if you try. A ‘garajoba’ (hello) here, a ‘madloba’ (thanks) there and the city is yours.
Overlooking a much loved town: the view from Holy Trinity Church
I was also looking forward to entering town as it would be a return of old faces; both of Fauna and Flora International staff I had worked with all those years ago, and of two mates from school who happened to be in town the same weekend. I’ll let reader fill in the blanks of what seeing old friends means and will suffice by saying the following days of both reunions were write offs. As much as I enjoy meeting new people along this great journey I am on, there’s nothing quite like going over old tales, ripping into one another and the genuine ease that being in old company brings.
Having two close and very old friends around for the weekend brought into sharp contrast what life has been like travelling solo. Sure, I have met and cycled alongside incredible people; and from the outset I wanted to carve out a lot of solo time, but I could not help feel a bit muted for a day or two after their return to the UK. Back to being a stray it was, wondering where the next campsite would be after Tbilisi and what variety of tuna pasta it would be on the road. I don’t mind being a stray so much when I am cycling, in fact I quite enjoy it, but it’s missing genuine friends and family after seeing them that can be the bitter pill solo travel forces you to take each morning.
Faces from home: portrait mode
I think anyone who has travelled alone would have experienced loneliness at times, and anyone who tells you they don’t miss a curry and a pint in the pub is masquerading. It genuinely baffles me when I meet cyclists who say they have no interest in home, or returning for many years. Rather than be impressed with this I actually feel a bit sorry for them. Sure, I am not rushing back to England but I like to know there is an end date and hopefully someone waiting for me with a family bag of crisps at the airport. To not want to return I think would leave you rudderless, ever chasing the sunrise east with no home to use as your reference point.
To concerned readers please fear not, as the loneliness of a trip like this is far outweighed - at least in my experience - by its opposing force: solitude, which is something only a solo expedition offers. Hours, sometimes days will go by where you will not encounter another soul, in the present or the virtual, which is an increasing rarity in life. This gives you the time to reflect on how lucky you are (I still pinch myself during moments of sheer euphoria), gives you perspective on desires and actions and most importantly for me creates a space to contemplate your raison d'etre; what you are here for and what you want to do.
You figure out a lot in these moments, don’t expect E=MC2 or determining gravity but a slow ease of understanding oneself and a bit more about the world around you. Do however remember to wash as your stench might be invisible to you after a few days, but you can clear a room (and importantly a queue, this does help) if you’re not careful.
One’s company, two can sometimes be a crowd.
True to the title, everything strays from the plan when travelling and this week finds myself scrambling to re-route after yet another refused entry to Azerbaijan. Sadly, the echoes of covid linger in these parts and the land border between Georgia and Azerbaijan remain very solidly closed. I have decided upon Armenia. Famous for its hospitality, cuisine and crucially for someone who hates going uphill, its altitude, and is somewhere I am really looking forward to exploring. Travellers I have met rate it as one of the best places to cycle, with no two days alike and false summits abounding as frequently as potholes.
This change of route leaves me a bit gutted. Having researched my route through Azerbaijan and looking forward to the ferry across the Caspian Sea, I am now heavily constrained on continuing an overland only route. Due north of where I am is Russia, a no go area right now and to the south is Iran, again a complete no go. It looks likely that I will have to fly to the western edge of Kazakhstan, Aktau, where the ferry from Baku would have taken me. Flying is a bitter pill to swallow if I am to continue east, but remembering my purpose of this expedition I feel it is a worthy trade off to highlight the last two remaining rivers with sturgeon along my route: the Amu Darya and Syr Darya.
Like all good strays, I’ll adapt, overcome and no doubt beg food from hospitable strangers on the roads ahead. My focus now is entirely on Armenia, and from there a way will be found wherever there is a will.
