08 Jun 2015

Kazbegi I - Mountains, Rivers and Rivers of Chacha

One warm evening in Tbilisi I had met two Kiwis, Anthea and Manu, on the roof terrace of our hostel. Over a few drinks we had started talking about travel plans. They intended to drive up to Kazbegi, a mountaineous region in the north, near the Russian border. Sure, why not?

Day 1

Our route

Two days later, an old Mercedes arrived at the hostel. Our group consisted of Anthea and Manu (from NZ), Rene (AUS) and myself. Our driver had agreed to take us to the town of Stepantsminda for a total of 150 Lari (~50 EUR), a drive which would last about 3-4 hours. For the first third of the trip we rode through greater Tbilisi. Remember what I said about rats? Then again, the outskirts of most cities aren’t exactly scenic.

After passing the Zhinvali Reservoir, things started getting a lot more hilly. And sheep-y.

A flock of some thousand sheep, according to the shepard. Show-off!

Eventually, we reached an actual mountain road and began to climb up the serpentine. Even though most stretches of the road were not all that steep, the old Mercedes sounded like parts might come flying out the bonnet at any moment. Our driver just cruised down after every peak to compensate, so we were pleasantly slow both up- and downhill.

Fortunately, our driver was okay with us stopping for snacks and photographs. Since taking pictures from a moving car didn’t work so well (even at our slow speeds), we made use of that opportunity and admired the stunning scenery:

Our Kiwi friends got weirdly excited at this sight.

These guys nonchalantly stepped between us and the flock. Nice doggy! Peaceful doggy!

Finally, we followed a fast-flowing, muddy river through a valley until we reached the town of Stepantsminda. There, Anthea and Manu found their pre-booked apartment right next to the main square. Rene and I decided to try to get beds there, too, which worked out just fine. Hooray for not being prepared!

The house opposite of our accommodation.

Our place was very neat and cozy. Our host had shown us the house and answered some of our questions. Then he reached into a kitchen shelf and pulled out a bottle of chacha.

Ah, yes: Chacha. Chacha is the Georgian poison of choice. It’s a clear spirit and a brandy in the widest sense, because it’s supposedly made from grapes. Or from whatever is handy and roughly grape-shaped. That could be anything, really: After a few glasses the finer points of distilling high-octane drinks will start getting lost somewhere between your eyeballs and your brain. Whether that’s due to your corneas dissolving in methanol (bad) or your neocortex drowning in ethanol (just as bad, but more fun) depends on the source: In Georgia, non-commercial moonshine is legal. It seems to range anywhere from 45% to 60% and was almost certainly distilled by somebody still in possession of their corneas. Then there are also award-winning commercial chachas made by trained professionals. In the small villages you might as well try and order a unicorn though, because your odds of getting it are roughly similar. Instead, people tend to fill their moonshine into the nice, official bottles. It doesn’t really make much of a difference either: Both the nice stuff and the moonshine give you the same note of “WhatAAARGGH!” and make your eyes water in appreciation.

So yeah, two shots of that and then off to explore the town!

Manu driving.

We decided to walk to the foot of a steep mountain where we were supposed to find a church. We missed that by a wide margin but found some beautiful scenery instead:

Powerlines everywhere.

Heroic mountaineers!

We found ourselves standing at the foot of said mountain ridge (pictured above, right behind us). Since it was still early and we were full of energy, we stopped and discussed what to do next. As we looked up the fairly steep slope, we started wondering if we could do a quick walk to maybe the half-way mark. From the distance, it definitely looked like an easy way up. I distinctly remember saying that aloud, and the others agreeing with me.

Now, where I come from, we don’t have mountains. Or hills. It’s so flat an area that standing on tip-toes will allow you to see for miles. But sure, that thing - in my expert opinion! - looked perfectly okay.

It was slightly above this point that Manu and I encountered an almost vertical section consisting of loose and shifting rocks. While it would have been possible to continue, there wasn’t much to break our falls should we slip. Given our utter lack of equipment we figured this was good enough for the first day.

The “climb” back down was a haphazard affair of careful steps and a half-intentional slide on my hands and feet. Great fun, and nobody got hurt - surprisingly.

Slowly, slowly...

Looking down on clouds

From there we headed back into town, hoping to rustle up something edible. Our host had warned us that the quality of the local restaurants was mixed.

Bit of lens flare. I should really keep my phone clean.

This turned out to be true for the place we found: The waiter clearly hated his job, and us, for making him do it. The food wasn’t really to our liking. Instead we turned to the drinks menu. What was the name of that brandy again? Right: Chacha!

So that’s what we kept ordering with masochistic glee. Initially, we were brought shot glasses. Then small sherry glasses. In the end, our ‘shots’ kept arriving in the form of half-full water glasses. I recall a waitress asking “Are you sure?” as we ordered one of the last rounds…

It was around that time, that we figured that our behaviour might end up harming the reputation of our respective countries. That seemed horribly inconsiderate, so we agreed that we would all pretend to be Australians. Why hurt the image of three when you could limit the harm to one, which didn’t have that much to lose to begin with?

Eventually, three of us decided to call it a night and headed to bed. One however decided to have a few more drinks at some local’s grandparent’s place. That night, another colourful tale was added to the lore of Aussie travelers. I will spare you the details, but should you ever find yourself in Stepantsminda, be sure to ask the locals about their impression of Aussies!

Until next time,
Arne