Boxing Day night, Yerevan, Armenia. A Lithuanian, a Ukranian, a Belarusian and an Englishman (like a joke yeah), late in Festive drinking and tired of a tame birthday party, decide to scale a high fence and explore an enormous, tumbledown Soviet lamp factory. The Belarusian assures us that security is minimal; he's been casing the place for weeks on the way to his human-rights course... We creep about inside finding loads of cool old machinery, dusty ledgers and cases of archaic components. There is brandy bravado and, perhaps, an element of that competitive recklessness common to young men. Soon enough voices with torches come and we scatter outside, hiding, sidling around substations to evade searching beams. Hearing dogs I make a dash for the fence a hundred yards, dodge two guards and clear the climb only to run into a punch from a third; floored, stunned and dragged to the office. A goon with a cosh locks the door and shouts at my silence for a few minutes until one by one the others are brought in. The boss comes, stern, and everybody else writes a brief statement in Russian. I write (part of) my name and instead befriend matey with bicycle stories. In broken English he insists that he never hit me; but we have a good laugh at his swollen knuckles and my big eye (perfect with the skinhead). 3am they let us go, all friends and vodka smiles. It is good to cut loose once in a while. And good to get it out of my system before Iran where I will absolutely avoid any industrial compounds... (do they read this?)
Christmas was really nice. I put a note on Couchsurfing, to the effect that I'd be in Yerevan and would prefer to be in company than my tent, and had more sociable invitations than I could manage. A traditional Lithuanian Christmas Eve with baked carp and ginny jukebox bars, then a perfect sunshine 25th which I spent getting good jobs well done (camera repair; new chain/rear sprocket) and riding around to meet the international Christmas crew. Yerevan is set amongst hills with a 500 odd metre variance between districts. Nobody cycles! I had a great time testing my new drivetrain and scaring the traffic. Late yesterday morning I finally left, bearing South in ice and sunshine. Azerbaijan maintains a blockaded enclave in Southern Armenia which denies me a straightforward road to Iran; instead a convoluted series of mountain passes - another detour, but a necessary one.
It's good to see Mount Ararat from the other side. Yesterday I must've been within thirty miles of the spot where I last camped beneath it in Turkey back in October. The peaks are spectrish in these blessed bright days; little more than a thin gleam in the sky. But first thing in the morning, and again suddenly at twilight, they loom massive and definitive. Last night pitched on a frosty football pitch before the fading range - full moon rising half bottle sinking - I had such a rare, reflective contentment that when a groaning Lada parked in the goal to offer me home for the night, presumably warm, I didn't even want to accept. This morning the water bottle inside my tent was frozen solid. And it is hard, beautiful going again. I'm excited for Iran but I know I'll miss Armenia. Natural beauty, generous hospitality and ever that edge! Imagine the guard who roughs you up, threatens the truncheon then, look-how-nice-we-are, shakes your hand and fixes you a drink...
As ever, photos when I find an internet computer. Snowy mountain vistas by the dozen.
Christmas was really nice. I put a note on Couchsurfing, to the effect that I'd be in Yerevan and would prefer to be in company than my tent, and had more sociable invitations than I could manage. A traditional Lithuanian Christmas Eve with baked carp and ginny jukebox bars, then a perfect sunshine 25th which I spent getting good jobs well done (camera repair; new chain/rear sprocket) and riding around to meet the international Christmas crew. Yerevan is set amongst hills with a 500 odd metre variance between districts. Nobody cycles! I had a great time testing my new drivetrain and scaring the traffic. Late yesterday morning I finally left, bearing South in ice and sunshine. Azerbaijan maintains a blockaded enclave in Southern Armenia which denies me a straightforward road to Iran; instead a convoluted series of mountain passes - another detour, but a necessary one.
It's good to see Mount Ararat from the other side. Yesterday I must've been within thirty miles of the spot where I last camped beneath it in Turkey back in October. The peaks are spectrish in these blessed bright days; little more than a thin gleam in the sky. But first thing in the morning, and again suddenly at twilight, they loom massive and definitive. Last night pitched on a frosty football pitch before the fading range - full moon rising half bottle sinking - I had such a rare, reflective contentment that when a groaning Lada parked in the goal to offer me home for the night, presumably warm, I didn't even want to accept. This morning the water bottle inside my tent was frozen solid. And it is hard, beautiful going again. I'm excited for Iran but I know I'll miss Armenia. Natural beauty, generous hospitality and ever that edge! Imagine the guard who roughs you up, threatens the truncheon then, look-how-nice-we-are, shakes your hand and fixes you a drink...
As ever, photos when I find an internet computer. Snowy mountain vistas by the dozen.
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