As Ryan Wilson continues his trip from Greece to Georgia (and beyond), he rides along the eastern border of Türkiye and finally gets his first taste of the Caucasus Mountains in the Republic of Georgia, just as autumn settles into the region…

Like a wave sweeping over the Anatolian highlands, the temperatures suddenly plummeted after 5 months of relentless heat in my time riding across Greece and Türkiye.  One day I’m praying for a lone cloud to spare me from the sun’s rays for just a few minutes and the next I’m bundled up in two jackets, pants, and winter gloves.

Highland Roads

From the lakeside city of Van, I looked up toward the small mountains on the outskirts of town to find a dusting of snow just a few hundred meters up the slope.  I had grand plans of riding around the Republic of Georgia and Armenia after finishing up in Türkiye, but long ago I decided I wouldn’t shortchange my experience by speeding through this region, which I’d been looking forward to visiting for years.  But looking at that fresh dusting, I was starting to wonder if I’d make it to Georgia in time for any riding before winter hit all of the high passes of the Caucasus mountains.

With the highlights of Hakkâri behind me, I was knocking on the door of hitting the 90-day visa free limit in Türkiye, which meant I’d have to make a beeline toward the border regardless of how content I might be meandering around dirt roads here forever.  For the first time in 9 years on the road, I set my navigation toward the border crossing of my choice and would more-or-less take the main highway for the next 650+ kilometers.

I almost forgot what it felt like to just cruise through easy mileage on routes that aren’t dirt tracks with constant thousand-meter climbs strung back-to-back-to-back.  I gotta say, looking at my progress on the map at the end of each day was pretty satisfying, though I still found my eyes wandering on the map toward more remote areas, and occasionally indulging in a side quest if it wouldn’t cost me too much time.

Local Icons

Storms frequently rolled across the plateau, though these made for some of the most dramatic sights on the route, and put a fresh dusting of snow on majestic Mount Ararat (Ağrı Dağı).  It’s the highest mountain in Türkiye, famous as the supposed resting place of Noah’s Ark.

The history of the region is immense, with some of the towns and cities here existing for many thousands of years along trade routes between the Black Sea and modern-day Iran.  Impressive historical monuments still nestle into the mountains, with stories of the many battles between various empires that have taken place on this land throughout history.

As I made my way north, the terrain gradually became more and more green with every kilometer closer I got to the Black Sea, which gives this region a very different climate than the arid south.  I found myself arriving in the town of Ardahan a day earlier than I had planned, so I gave myself the “treat” of taking a series of more remote roads to the border rather than sticking to the shoulder of the highway as I had for the previous handful of days.

A Change of Scenery

I arrived at the border in the late afternoon to find it completely empty.  No line, no cars, no trucks.  I wheeled my bike up to the window and was stamped out in moments.  Entering Georgia was just as easy.  A quick stamp of the passport, then a man asked where I was from in Russian and looked over my bike for a second before smiling and waving me through.  “That was it?” I thought to myself as I pedaled away just a couple of minutes after I arrived.

There was an immediate change as soon hit the road in Georgia for the first time.  The call to prayer that I’d grown so accustomed to had faded away, with mosques swapped for churches.  The wide highway with a shoulder from the other side of the border suddenly became a bit more narrow, the cars passed a little faster and closer, and you could feel the same post-Soviet influence in some of the architecture that I felt in Central Asia back in 2019.  I stopped at the first shop just after the border to change my last few Turkish Liras for Georgian Lari, get a SIM card, and to see what they stocked just out of curiosity.  A few guys lingered outside with a couple of bottles of half consumed vodka on the table, something you wouldn’t often run into on the other side of the border.  There was definitely a different vibe here.

The other major difference was the sudden addition of many other touring cyclists on the road.  In Türkiye, there are a lot of people touring through the country on journeys between Europe and Asia, but there is a huge range of route possibilities to get through the country, while Georgia has more established roads and routes that people tend to ride, so I was suddenly running into a handful of cyclists every day after meeting exactly zero cyclists in 3 months in Türkiye.

The Caucasus Crossing

My plan was to hook up to Cass Gilbert’s Caucasus Crossing route and head toward Svaneti, in hopes of making it over Zagari pass before it gets buried in snow for the winter.  I was basically entering from the middle of the route, so I had to choose one side or the other, and Svaneti was a bit closer, so it was an easy call with the forecast ten days ahead calling for large amounts of snow in the region.

Along the route, I visited the impressive Vardzia cave network, which dates back to the 12th century and is still occupied by 5 monks to this day.  It was also the place I had my first proper Georgian Khachapuri— staple of Georgian cuisine.

Leaving the tourist attractions behind, I climbed up the dirt track out of the canyon, followed at a short distance by a friendly but shy local pup.  This would turn out to be quite the common occurrence in the country as Georgian dogs seem to regularly hitch on with travelers commuting between towns— especially cyclists.  She followed me for a couple of hours up the steep climb, even waiting patiently from a distance as I took a break for lunch before we reached a small shepherd settlement in the hills where she disappeared into the buildings and I never saw her again.  Likely not her first or last time making the journey.

Over The Pass

Before making it to Georgia’s iconic Greater Caucasus range, I had to get over its densely forested little brother that is home to Borjomi and Kharagauli National Park.  It gets a lot less attention than the big snow-capped peaks to the north, but the road over these mountains was one of my favorites in the country.  A ribbon of dirt winding through the forest before zigging and zagging up above the tree-line.  It’s said that this road will be paved soon with local tourism growing in the area, so the opportunities to visit places like this before there’s a McDonald’s and a Starbucks en route are running out.

I got to the top of the pass with the idea that I would likely descend down the other side a bit and camp, but the view at the tippy top was just too good, and it was already late, so I pitched my tent right there.

Not long after I got all set up, I heard the barking of a couple of dogs right outside my tent as they were tripping over the guy lines.  When I opened up the front zip, two young pups were giving the puppy dog eyes, looking to get invited to the party.  They took the opening of the door as permission granted and promptly curled up next to the inner of my tent and settled in for the night.  I guess I had roommates now!

The Long Descent

When the morning sun hit, so did the zoomies.  The two pups sprinted around frantically as I was packing up my tent and making breakfast.  With the landscape around me suddenly illuminated, I could see a shepherd’s house down in the hills below me.  I descended from the pass with the pups frantically chasing behind me before reaching the house with a man who was outside tending to his cows.  We didn’t share any common language but simply with a few hand gestures and grunts, I got the notion that the two pups were his and that camping out with tourists in the area has become routine for them.

The pups stayed behind as I finished the long descent to Kutaisi, the first big-ish Georgian city of my time in the country.  It has a vibrant market, which is always a good place to get a feel for any country, and usually my first stop when I arrive a place like this.  It’s where you get a sense of the local personalities and products.  Of course, it’s a good place to stock up on Churchkhela, which are traditional Georgian sweets that have walnuts or hazelnuts threaded onto a string and dipped into various fruit juices.  These were frequently used by Georgian warriors going into battle back in the day, but nowadays make for an effective calorie bomb for days on the bike in these mountains.

With only a handful of clear days left on the forecast before the high mountains were set to get hammered by the first big snowstorm of the season, I didn’t have a lot of extra time to spend relaxing in the city, so I immediately stocked up on supplies and set my sights on Svaneti.  Stay tuned here for the next chapter as I try to beat the weather over the highest pass on my route and dive deeper into the Georgian Caucasus mountains…

See the Prospector frame he’s touring on and more at Tumbleweed Bikes.