Due to cramped space and terror, there were no pictures. Sorry?
After making the
mistake of going to a club with some other people at the hostel (thinking it
somehow would be interesting--protip: it was deserted and they wouldn't even
let you sit on the couches. I guess things pick up after 12:30 AM) I got up
early to get the marshrutka to Mestia. It turns out there are two bus
stations--one on this giant triangular plaza, and another right off the main
road across from the cable car. Turns out, the marshrutka leaves from the one
across from the cable car, and it left at 14:30. On that particular day only
one was running. You have to buy tickets; mine was 40 GEL but the vehicle was
not packed--we actually left an hour or hour and a half later so a group of slovakian hikers
could get on (they're everywhere, and very friendly). Before that, I spent the
day sitting on the main beach since the weather was nice. This only reaffirmed
my opinion of the Batumi beach as highly underwhelming. Water is nasty, beach
is rocks, current is strong, and space is limited. After coming back and
changing, I went to the marshrutka. After talking for a while with my
co-passengers (Ukrainian and Slovakian) and passing through Poti (note: there
is a lot of rail stuff here) I slept until we started going up into the
mountains. The view was magnificent yet terrifying as we climbed up the gorge,
cliffs on either side (there were concrete barriers, but still) going hundreds
of feet above and below us. So steep and so high was it that it was impossible to see the river at the bottom, probably
500-1000 feet below. After that we crossed a ridge and did the same thing, only
this time along a reservoir and the cliffs were only at about a 60 or 70 degree
angle, as opposed to 80 or almost 90.
There were a lot of random people selling honey out of little stalls
along the roadside, and apparently it is quite cheap. We got to a guesthouse
for some food, and when I ordered mine, I discovered much to my chagrin that
the driver and his buddy (who we picked up along the way--this happens
frequently from what I gather) were working on one of those 2 Liter beers.
Frightening as this was, I had to make a choice. I had two crappy options: carry
on with this driver, who, in fairness to him, was probably stocky enough that 1
liter would not do much or act very strangely by refusing a ride and stranding
myself at this house hugging the side of a cliff, where further transport (I
was broke) seemed unlikely. So I hesitantly took my chances, buying myself a
beer so that I too would not remain in perfect sobriety. We set out, and the
road kept traveling through alternatively narrow and slightly wider river
valleys. Occasionally we passed a settlement, some showing signs of abandoned
light industry. While not traveling along cliffs constantly, the road was
narrow and flanked by either side on steep hills, and on multiple occasions we
had to swerve to avoid fallen rock--this was especially scary as the driver
didn't slow down when traveling around certain corners. In fact, for every 20
or 30 yards of straight road, he got up to about 40 miles an hour before
rapidly braking to take the turn--in a giant Mercedes van. At one point, the
road was down to one lane and as we approached a blind corner a Kamaz truck
came barreling down from the opposite direction. We both slammed on the brakes
and stopped a good 15 yards from one another, but it was terrifying. Things
only got worse as night began to fall, the road went higher, and what little
room we had separating us from the furious mountain river and certain death
went to nil and suddenly we were barreling through the night, cliffs on either
side, accelerating as much as the van would allow and then braking hard to take
corners blindly. I thought of the irony that this guy would surely burn up his
brakes going uphill, so agressively did he tackle the whole thing. At this
point, roughly an hour after dinner, I don't think the beer was having any effect--I
guess he just wanted to get home. I was holding on to the seat in front of me,
figuring that if we somehow avoided death in the event of an accident I only
wanted to travel 45 mph over the space of 2 inches rather than 2 feet before
coming into contact with the chair in front of me. At one point, the driver
(who had also been taking phone calls) reached to mess with the radio and
accidentally shut off the lights--sheer terror. He flipped them back on, and we
made it to Mestia after another grueling 45 minutes, but that was by far the
most terrifying trip I've ever been on. It's a shame because it is also so
beautiful--if I wasn't terrified it would have been thoroughly enjoyable, and
even still it had its moments. But apparently this is a common occurrence, so
consider this when planning. It's possible to fly into Mestia, weather
dependent, for 65 GEL and presumably much less danger.
To
compound issues, when I arrived I found that my homestay had somehow double
booked me despite my 3-week-in-advance notice and I was taken to a friend of
the marshrutka driver's. it was 50 lari/night including 2 meals (breakfast and
dinner), which I thought was a reasonable deal.
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