I’m taking the scenic route out of Turkey. Climbing the mountain fence that separates it from Georgia.
Starts out cold. The roads are packed. Can’t move for caravans and blokes in Lycra shorts. Jesus this is going to take forever.
Everywhere you look it’s just chaos. Grid locked, the weather is shit and the landscape is batshit boring too.
The only thing keeping me awake is the gravel all over the roads everywhere. I associate the word gravel with words like crash, and other words that rhyme with it … like rash.. and cash.
Last time I was here the border control was like a Gazan Hamas hideout that had been visited by the Israeli army but now it’s all shiny, new and fast. Georgia is quick too because the bike is already in their system.
Go to get insurance and it’s a hole in the wall operation. Like a drugs exchange. I imagine…
There is a young lady behind a piece of glass. She asks to see your documents, and then she asks for your credit card. You just put in the drawer and she pulls it closed and smiles. Christ knows what I’m paying for, or how much it is. I’m not sure by I think I see a pair of bright red Jimmy Choo stiletto’s on the screen. Well she does have a nice smile. I’ll be willing to make that donation in the spirit of entente cordial.
My Satnav is throwing an epic shit fit and has completely lost its mind. I think it’s trying to take me to The Riddlers hideout. That would be interesting.
Tonight it’s Tblisi. A nice city but my mind is on other things. I have to keep moving. I must not stop.
And Georgia knows how to treat the good stuff too. Thank fuck for that!
I’ve not got far to do today so I’m in no hurry to leave. Tonight’s abode is cash only so I take a quick tour of the underground graffiti gallery.
Not an invitation I’ve seen advertised before but yes.. let’s go. I was born ready. My brother remembers a competition we had as kids when I did 15 farts in a row before I started suffering bowel dangle.
I had the hotel ship in a female receptionist overnight so as my helmet could get its usual goodbye tickle.
Out into the mayhem we go. I take what they call the ‘old military road’ north through the greater Caucasus mountains. It’s a peach. Or a strawberry. Or whatever you fancy. But it’s definitely not a lemon. It’s starts at a lake.
There is a cafe at the lake with a Russian woman that looks suicidal. She motions me up to the terrace and then collapses down in a chair beside me. She looks so sad. I ask her what’s wrong. Her voice says ‘nothing’ but her face says ‘everything’.
Me.. I can think of worse places to be on a sunny, hot Monday.
I’ve decided to try and eat something. So I order ‘something’. When it arrives I feel my eyes contact my stomach and they get a small nod of approval. Hopefully they’re friends again. It’s about bloody time. I’ve eaten so little over the last couple of weeks I’ve achieved near weightlessness.
I go to leave and The Bitch is bitching that I just leave her in the car park and go see the sights. She never gets to see all the nice things. So I take her to the viewing platform and let her look for herself.
The ride is …
And when I get to the cheap little hotel and open my door, the view is..
I want to visit the church Gergeti Trinity Church. I tried and failed last time. Now, all religion is bollocks. Thats the limit to which I’m willing to debate the subject. Anyone who believes there is a being greater than themselves to whom they must be subjugated, and in return can delegate all responsibility for all their actions is bound to a life of subservience. But. I make a pilgrimage on foot all the way up to the church and have a quiet word. It never hurts to make a cheeky side bet.
On the way back I saw some Russian bikers that had just come through customs. They’re off down to Turkey then I think their welcome runs out. They said riding through Russia should be ok. Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid. That’s exactly what I’m famous for.