Sprache wechseln
Secret escape! The adventure began in Germany and extended through Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, Albania, Greece and Turkey before arriving in Georgia. We were travelling in our 2003 Mercedes-Benz G Wagen and the passengers comprised my wife, Kristin, our children, Julius and Luisa, our dog, Zeus, and myself, Benyamin, behind the wheel.
For years, we’ve been rather minimalist in our approach to overlanding and make do with little more than our rooftop tent. Nature determines our living room, kitchen and bathroom, and the destinations we choose are a far cry from the typical tourist attractions. Georgia is one such destination and has been on our ToDo list for quite some time. Until now, that is—Georgia, we’re on our way.
We crossed the border from Turkey. Insofar as the formalities were unspectacular, they required a good portion of patience. We had to sit for three and a half hours in the car until everything was completed. That didn’t really come as a surprise because we’ve endured anything up to six hours of red tape when entering Morocco.
Important to note is the compulsory vehicle insurance which should be applied for online before you arrive.
We drove past Batumi on our way to Tbilisi. Our first point of call was the Vashlovani State Reserve in the Southeast. Vashlovanis translates to apple orchard—but we didn’t see a single apple tree along the way.
The border to Azerbaijan flanks one side of the reserve, so you have to register with the local authorities. Once the fees were paid, we went to a police station where the registration document was stamped and validated. This had be presented at all the border posts we came across.
We were finally on our way into the reserve and soon found the first border guards. The rangers were friendly and wanted to see our documents; with everything in order, we were allowed to pass. All the rangers we ran into were hospitable and willing to help.
To begin with, we followed the Kilakupra Road to the mud volcanoes. The small bubbling volcanoes spew grey mud…or black oil…or both. The mixture creates interesting patterns on the surface.
However, don’t venture too far from the track. A friend of ours was suddenly swallowed up by the ground right before our eyes and was lucky we were there to pull him back out again. As our friend will confirm, it is a very gooey state of affairs.
The volcanoes lie along a ridge. From here we spotted a much much larger one in the distance and were soon on our way to take a closer look. Much to our disappointment, it wasn’t nearly as spectacular as we had anticipated, so we continued on our way instead.
A military patrol appeared out of nowhere and sped towards us. They were quite adamant we should stop. We waited. The soldiers advised us that we were headed straight for the Azerbaijani border and, as history had proven all too often, the Azerbaijani soldiers were prone to shooting first and asking questions later. We didn’t need to be told twice and turned around. Our friendly saviours accompanied us to the next base.
From there, we continued along the Iormuganlo-Taribana Road until an amazing sight stopped us in our tracks: galloping wild horses.
We followed a valley beside the Iori River and across a dry river bed. The landscape was a flurry of change: oases, mountains, steppe, moonscapes. It is incredible just how varied the region is. One magnificent vista after another. It just doesn’t stop. Eventually we stopped on a plateau to marvel at the panorama that extended as far as the Caspian Sea.
For fear of repeating myself: Georgia is a paradise for overlanders. You can camp and drive almost everywhere.
In the midst of all this, you make sure to carry enough water, food and fuel with you at all times because there aren’t any shops inside the reserve. But you will see a wide variety of wild animals including saiga antelopes, striped hyenas, rare Caucasian leopards, brown bears, and Caucasian agamids. All this reminds us of Africa. The diversity is astonishing.
Once we’d left the pavement, we hardly ran into anyone else in the reserve; a 4×4 is compulsory on the many washed out, twisting and dusty tracks.
Onward. We were on the lookout for a place to set up camp as we drove along a remote ridge road, when around 20 locals blocked our path and waved us down to chants and cheers. It didn’t take much to notice there was a party in full flow. There was dancing, singing, drinking and eating—and we were in the middle of it all, like old friends, swept up in the incredible Georgian hospitality.
Besides the home-made food, there was also home-made wine and spirits—Georgia is considered the origin of wine culture, a tradition that spans more than 8,000 years. As it turns out, our hosts are park rangers who came here to party with family and friends. The festivities continued until late into the night and, as things began to calm down, we were invited back to their house. Preferring to look after ourselves, we politely declined their generous offer and began to set up camp.
The following morning, we drove over to see one of the hosts, Luca, who had told us about his little supermarket. We had to replenish our provisions anyway and promised to shop in his store. Upon our arrival, we were each given an ice cream and a bonus bottle of Georgian brandy when we paid for our purchases. Luca also shared a secret with us: not too far away was an old and deserted Russian airbase.
Intrigued, we were soon on our way to see it. We found the remains of a MIG-21 fighter; the hangars had been reappropriated by the local farmers as grain stores or garages. We also found a statue whose face had been rendered unidentifiable—we assumed it was probably Stalin, but we couldn’t be sure.
Our next stop was the Tusheti National Park with one of the most dangerous roads in the world—and we wanted to see if it stood up to its reputation.
It starts of as a rather unspectacular gravel track similar to those you can expect in the Western Alps. After a few kilometres, things began to pick up as the track became narrow…very narrow. There were countless sections only wide enough for one vehicle, without any crash barriers. We had to back up more than once to let others pass. Definitely not the place to lose your nerve or discover you suffer from vertigo.
The mountain road ascends to its highest point 2,926 metres above sea level. But I use the term road loosely as it is hardly more than a trail carved into the side of the mountain. This is the Abano Pass, the highest drivable route in all of Georgia and one of the most dangerous you’ll experience anywhere. Even though this is the only route leading to Tusheti, it remains closed for six months during winter.
Gravestones line the verge in memory of those who left their lives here. I didn’t count them, but there were a lot. We learned that heavy rain can cause landslides which, if you get caught up in them, will carry you to certain death. At least ten to twelve people die here every year.
We kept running into bulldozers which had to clear the path. You shouldn’t underestimate this road: Whereas four-wheel drive is preferable, driving skills are compulsory!
The road is almost at its highest somewhere around the half-way point en route to Omalo. It’s really crazy: on a road that is barely wide enough for one car, you are likely to meet vans and 4x4s. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, a truck will appear—folding in the mirrors isn’t going to suffice. Remember, there aren’t any barriers and it’s an 800-metre drop. I have to admit I felt a bit queasy and started to sweat, but all was well in the end. You certainly get to know your car properly.
We stopped for lunch next to a waterfall and I noticed some locals had broken down. One of their tyres had a gash in its wall and the spare was damaged too. I offered to help—having suffered similar problems on several occasions, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.
You just need to be a bit creative if nothing else works: I patched the three-centimetre-long tear with one of those rubber sausages that every off-road enthusiast should have in their tool kit. As Georgi, the driver’s son, informed me via Instagram later, the repair was a success and they were besides themselves with gratitude.
After one and a half days of driving, we eventually arrived in Omalo and couldn’t help but wonder how the Tushebi (as they call themselves) could live here. According to history, Tusheti was a refuge for oppressed minorities who fled religious persecution or fear of Christianisation. Most of the population follow a unique belief that incorporates elements of Animism and Paganism. The road we had just driven was the only way in and out—not unlike a forgotten world. Hundreds of wild horses roam free. My daughter, who adores horses more than anything else, was in seventh heaven.
We stopped for a break in a forest and the children went off to explore the area. My son came running back and said he’d found a machine gun. I laughed in disbelief, but followed him anyway. He wasn’t kidding, he really had found a weapon! It wasn’t a machine gun, but a Remington 870 Express Pump Gun. My first thought was…run! But then it seemed a better idea to take the gun to the police. After all, the safety was on and it wasn’t loaded. It was almost as if someone had leant it against the tree and forgotten it. Strange.
A few minutes later a man on a quad stormed by. He looked pretty agitated and was breathing heavily as he climbed down and started to search. We watched. I eventually asked if he was looking for something in particular and showed him the rifle. You could see the relief on his face as his anxiety was lifted. He explained that he was hunting with friends and, caught up in all the excitement, they had left the rifle behind. Each of them thought the other had packed it away. We laughed. He was happy again and we went our separate ways.
Taking the riverside road to Dartlo, which would then take us on towards Girevi, we had to stop several time to let shepherds guide their huge herds past us. They were good at their job, so we didn’t suffer too much delay.
My Georgian prepaid card suddenly died. I’d used up my data allowance and there wasn’t anywhere to recharge it. I did find an internet café though, so I used Instagram to write to Georgi and ask if he could recharge my card if I sent him the money by PayPal. He was quick to help and even paid for it himself in return for my having repaired their tyre. That was a nice surprise. Now we could stream music again—astonishingly, the network is really strong almost everywhere.
We finally made it to Girevi, which is directly on the Chechen (Russian) border. Early the next morning, I walked to the checkpoint to have a look around—after all, I needed to stretch my legs after all the driving.
I ran into some cows and sheep on the way back down the steep slope. Regardless of which way I looked, big black sentry towers belonging to the Tushebi punctuated the landscape. They are really quite bizarre and have a strong semblance to a scene in The Lord of the Rings. A mix between Iceland and the Dolomites, frozen in time. The towers are around 30 metres high and are certainly worth seeing because they represent the first line of defence against wild Chechen marauders who carried out raids and vendettas up until the 1920s. It makes you wonder how these towers have survived so well and so long.
Not far from here is Europe’s highest village, Ushguli, from where you can see Georgia’s highest mountain, Shkhara, which, at 5,201 metres, is the third highest in the Greater Caucasus.
Our trip drew to a close, and we began our homeward journey with so many incredible impressions. Wild, wonderful Georgia! We will definitely come back, no doubt, because there is still so much to discover.
Text and images: Benjamin Senkal
This article first appeared in the Autumn 2022 edition of Overland Journal Europe.
