Batumi - Samtredia – 131 kilometres
Once in tiny Georgia, all things appeared different to Turkey. Georgia was less than
a 10th of Turkey’s size and far less populated. The country was home to only 3.
million people, unlike the approximately 80 million in Turkey. As a result,
everything was vastly different, including the food, people, and landscape. The
misty, snow-capped mountains in the distance and wooded ravines featuring
waterfalls and old ruins gave it a slightly medieval feel.
Our first day of riding led past numerous traditional homes upon massive plots
suited to subsistence farming. The only things spoiling our vista were old, disused
factories from the former Soviet 5- and 10-year plans. Several places looked
forlorn, revealing dilapidated buildings and villagers living under the breadline.
Georgians were extremely reserved; to such an extent, they practically looked
unfriendly. They stared at us, and we at them. Kids kept a safe distance, and even
dogs were too nervous about giving chase. Our nightly abode was above a petrol
station, without hot water and with torn bedding and I thought it best to use my
sleeping bag.
Samtredia - Zestaponi – 81 kilometres
Georgia took getting used to. From the unsmiling people to the language.
Georgian, the official language, was considerably trickier to master as it’s written
in Georgian script, and not related to neighbouring languages. We could scarcely
manage the essential words like hello, goodbye, and thank you.
The road which led to Zestaponi was picturesque, across rivers, through densely
wooded areas and past small half-forgotten, depressing-looking settlements. The
tents were pitched at an idyllic spot next to a river, so lovely I could have stayed a
few days.