Kellen Smetana
As you saw from the last post, Cory and I had plenty of fun with the Bruns’ in our short time riding with them through Georgia, but as Cory mentioned it was time for us to part ways with Theo and begin our push to Istanbul.  Not enough can be said about the man who was able to drag us along to Bukhara and Khiva on our sickest days, use his Russian to secure a free night’s stay just about every evening, and pump out enough positive attitude and jokes to make the Kyzylkum Desert a fun experience.  Riding with Theo through Central Asia was marvelous.  It’s too bad he’s taking the northern route home through Russia rather than joining us on the south side of the Black Sea, else I’m sure there would be plenty more laughs and stories to be had.  He will certainly be missed dearly.

One of the last things Theo allowed us was the use of his beard trimmer.  I know this will disappoint some of you back home – especially those who have already donned me with the new nickname “TK” (Ted Kaczynski) for my gruff look – but I had to take the facial hair down a notch.  Don’t worry, it’s still going strong and will be back in full force soon enough; for the time being, however, I look a little more like a squeaky clean cycle-tourist than a roving Unabomber.

Trimmed beards and all, Cory and I were ready to take on Georgia – a country that always seems to require further explanation as not being home to peaches, Coca Cola, and the Bulldogs football team.  I will tell you, though, that this is an absolutely amazing country that will be put in the heavyweight category with Kyrgyzstan and China battling for top spot when all is said and done.  We visited excellent cities like the medieval mountaintop Signaghi, charming capital Tbilisi, and Black Sea hotspot Batumi.  The people were very nice (no aerial apple cores or cucumbers) and the riding was superb.  We coasted through valleys of vineyards, past monasteries on hillsides, through mountains of thick green forest, and right along next to old Roman forts.  And we barely even scratched the surface in our week’s traverse; I’ll have to add a return trip to the grand to-do list.

Tbilisi is now my favorite city of the trip (I know, the stats are a little behind), trumping Signaghi we visited the day before.  Cory and my first day as a dynamic duo riding between the two was one of the prettiest.  We hopped along several scenic mountaintop towns like Signaghi before descending through an amber and green valley of vineyards and wheat fields and finally finished in Tbilisi, a city built along a deep river gorge.  As is the case with many of our “rest days” recently, we spent the first 75% of it fixing the bikes.  Fortunately, we found another velotrek where we were able to remedy all our mechanical ailments: spokes, brakes, wheels, and tires.  Two kids loitering there even offered to lead us across the city to the one bike shop where I could buy replacement tubes.  It must have been a funny sight to watch us struggle exhausted up the hills and across the city on our bikes following two kids who were bouncing off walls (literally) as they BMX’ed from one side of the street to another.

Everything fixed, we went out to explore the city and were so much in awe that we decided to spend most of the next day there as well.  People were out and about everywhere, there were beautiful streets, old fortresses and churches strewn throughout, and the old quarter was a warren of cobblestone alleys where we could have easily spent a day getting lost.  We loved it – number one so far and it will be a tough one to dethrone.  Alas, we had to keep on keepin’ on; Turkey was waiting.

In our first few days west of Tbilisi we climbed through dark green hills and up one mountain pass.  As it was Cory’s first pass, I was actually rather pleased when he got to have the full experience of a nasty mountain storm blow in just as we peaked.

That pleasure lasted for about twenty seconds.  As we started going down the misty rain turned into a full deluge and very soon we were getting pelted with gumball-sized hail.  I immediately pulled off the road to “hide” under a tree, which did not provide any shelter as my helmet and back continued to take the full brunt of the falling ice.  Cars and trucks were parked every which way and the rain was such that the road had turned into a full mudslide complete with fist-sized rocks and gushing water.  Cory rounded the turn a minute behind and I shouted to him to come join me off near the trees.  By this point, however, there was a foot-and-a-half-deep river of water between me and the road.  I could see him laughing through the hail at the thought of marching through that to join me in my miserable shelter.  He looked around and was lucky enough to spot a nearby tunnel under construction.  I picked up my bike as much as I could and quickly forded the mudslide to join him in the tunnel with shoes oozing mud and water.

I entered the tunnel laughing, “That was INSANE.  I guess I’m not so pleased about that storm any more…  How are you doing?”  Cory responded, “Oh, I was basking in it!  You’ve got to love that part of the experience.”  True words spoken true.  The hail subsided, but the downpour continued.  We both basked in it while we waited out the storm in the tunnel and danced about to stay warm.  After an hour the rain eventually lightened and police crews arrived to guide the now parking-lot of traffic along the rock-strewn road.  Adequately marinated in mud and water, we carried on downhill through the valley.  The rain continued through the evening and we slept underneath a roadside mountain restaurant for shelter.  The first hailstorm and mudslide of the trip where quite an experience.  We had a good laugh reminiscing on it later and I’m sure we will for a long time.

A zillion times throughout the trip, people have asked where we are from.  “America,” I respond, and if I feel like a longer conversation I tell them Detroit.  Given Detroit’s less-than-stellar reputation in the states, it’s pretty funny to see people’s reaction abroad.  In Georgia, as in pretty-much every other country, anyone under the age of 30 thinks it is the coolest city on the planet.  I have attributed 98% of that to the fact that Eminem is from Detroit (not sure yet on the last 2%).  “Oooh, Eminem!” or “Oooh, 8 Miele! [8 Mile]” are usually the reactions we get (I also love telling them I grew up on 9 Mile).  My favorite reactions, though, are the more obscure references: “Oooh, Robocop!” or “Oooh, Beverly Hills Cop!”  If Detroit wants to work on its image, it’s certainly got quite the head start on other American cities abroad.

Basking in the hailstorm and Motown praises, we made it to the Black Sea and spent a half-rest day in the lovely town of Batumi.  The final day in Georgia held a big milestone for me – I joined the five-figure club with 10,000km on the trip!  Many kilometers down and many more to go.  The next day we rolled into Turkey to ride the Black Sea coast for 1500km until we reach Istanbul and the end of Asia.

Cory Smetana
It was Wednesday evening when our ship arrived in Baku’s port.  Still feeling as bruised and battered as Rocky Balboa, we decided we would take two rest days in the city.  Frankly, we deserved it after what we had just been through.  After the border crossing we searched for our guesthouse in Baku’s “old town,” inside an ancient fortress.  The fortress was just a rock toss away from the Caspian Sea and a short walk from the city’s center.  Outside the old town it was hard to turn a corner and not find yourself window shopping at one of many famous designer stores:  Gucci, Prada, and Louis Vuitton all helped flaunt the Caspian oil money present in the city.  It was quite the abrupt contrast from the absolute nothingness of the Kyzylkum Desert.

The only time we could get away from the glamour was our (my much needed) trip to the “bike shop” in the north end of the city.  The shop was part of an Azeri cycling club at an outdoor old Soviet velotrek (bicycle track).  We got to experience a quick race between two young Azeri’s and I even had the chance to ride it once my bike was fixed.

“Hello my friend,” was what we heard around every corner in old town.  It was the owner of the guesthouse, who seemed to pop up everywhere around town like the groundhog from Caddyshack; we always chuckled, looked at each other in amazement, and responded with a hearty “hello.”  The man was generous and ran a nice guesthouse; later, we also found out he was a soldier in the war against Armenia.  He showed us his scars from grenade fragments and bullet wounds – pretty insane stuff.  (For more information on the Azeri-Armenian conflict, see this article).  His friendliness spread throughout town and he seemed to know everyone so we were never waiting around for a taxi, the bike shop was easy to find, and we had very little trouble finding the nearest cafés.

As soon as we left Baku we found ourselves right back in the desert.  “Not again,” we thought.  Our day was brightened when we met a couple bicycle tourists at lunch travelling in the opposite direction.  They told us that the road we would reach the following day contained greener land with some beautiful scenery.  They were absolutely right.  The next few day contained huge river valleys surrounded by the lush Caucasus Mountains.  Some sections of the road were completely shaded for kilometers with the tall, overgrown trees.  We passed many campgrounds on the way reminding me of trips in northern Michigan.  Some of the riding was difficult, but after every climb we were rewarded with a gorgeous view of the mountains.  It was difficult to speed downhill without stopping to take a few photos of the surrounding landscape.  This riding definitely blew Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan out of the water.

Azerbaijan was now at the top of my list and was also home to a few first happenings.  It was the first country where we found ourselves climbing to the top of a hill in order to enter a city.  Usually cities in any mountain region like this would be found in the lower river valleys.  We enjoyed the contrast because it allowed us to start our days of riding with an easy descent, giving us enough time to prepare for the next climb.  Also present were an abundance of mustaches.  While eating lunch at the peak of a hill one day we were asked by the proprietor why we all had beards.  Kellen responded to his question: “I enjoy having a beard, it looks good, but why do you have a mustache?”  The man answered, “Well… everybody has one.”  I guess that makes sense.  It was a self-fulfilling response for every man in the country.

The final first occurred on one of our last days in the country.  We were riding through a small, forested town when we were passed by a Lada (cars almost as prevalent as the mustache).  The man in the passenger seat stuck his torso out the window waving with a cucumber in his hand.  I was the third man back at the time and the first one who was offered this nutritious snack.  I respectfully declined and so did Theo who was next to pass.  When they made it to Kellen, they didn’t bother to ask and just chucked the cucumber at him.  The vegetable just missed him and for the next few hours he had thoughts flying through his head as to what he did to deserve this.  At the next stop he told us what had happened and Theo and I both said, “hmm, that’s funny because the same guy offered us that cucumber.”  The man must have been upset that we didn’t take it so he decided to throw it at Kellen.  I thought this wouldn’t happen again, but the very next day Theo had an apple core thrown at him.  Maybe this should be a new statistic on the website…

We were all enjoying these new experiences –besides the thrown food – and were taking in the sights that this country had to offer, but we also had a deadline.  We were meeting Theo’s brother and his family in Lagadekhi, a border town just inside of Georgia.  In order to make it on time we made sure we hit certain cities by the end of each day.  On one particular day we needed to make it to Qakh to put us within a feasible distance of the Georgian border.  In the afternoon we stopped in a town for cold drinks and a Snickers.  While Theo talked with the locals he found out we had two options to get to Qakh: a 70km road fully paved or a 40km road under construction.  “Go the long route, the other road is TERRIBLE,” they advised.  Theo walked back to Kellen and me and said, “these guys don’t know bad roads.”  He was right.  As Kazakh road veterans we knew the road couldn’t be too difficult, especially if it was only 40km.  So we chose the shorter route and made it to Qakh by sunset.

From Qakh we had half a day to ride into Lagadekhi, Georgia.  The border crossing only took a few minutes and the town was only a few kilometers past.  When we arrived at our hotel we searched for Theo’s family.  Theo shouted, “We are here, we are here!”  The shouts went unanswered because the family was out for a walk to the nearby waterfall.  Our hotel was in the northern part of town bordering a national park complete with forested streams, trails, and waterfalls.  After cooling off in the nearby stream we waited in the hotel for Theo’s family.  They stormed back in shouting Theo’s name.  He ran down the steps and they were reunited once again.  We talked for a couple hours, played 21 questions with 5 year old Luka and 8 year old Jasper, and went down the street to have dinner at the “Four Seasons” hotel.  I put this in quotes because it wasn’t your normal Four Seasons hotel; it was a two story house with a couple rooms.  Nonetheless, we feasted at their picnic table outside on our most filling meal in months while we shared stories, laughed, and looked over the next day’s route.  That’s right, we were back to riding the next day.  Theo’s brother, his wife, and their two kids would join us as we set out through the Caucasus Mountains.  It sounds pretty ambitious, but we were all determined to make it successfully into Signaghi, the town we would stay in the following night.

The kids were up bright and early along with the adults, and everyone was eager to hop on their saddle, whether it was a fully-loaded bike or the pedaling trailers that the two kids had each attached to their parents bikes.

We started our day downhill into another huge valley.  We had about 40km of flat riding, which we accomplished by late morning.  It felt like Theo’s family had always been riding with us.  They didn’t slow us down a bit and made the riding even more enjoyable.  We stopped along the way to share a melon and rest.  After the snack we had a short climb to lunch.  Everyone made it up ok and the family was getting acquainted with their first ascent.  I wasn’t really impressed until after lunch.  Signaghi was 10km away and the road was all uphill.  Steep switchbacks and the hot weather combined to slow even Kellen, Theo, and me down.  I thought to myself if this is tough for us, I have no idea how Christian, Christina, and their two kids were coping with these tough grades – on their first day of riding!  I can only hope to have vacations like this with my wife and kids many years down the road.

It was a task reaching the top, but all seven of us made it.  We were even encouraged by little Luka along the way saying: “come on guys, you’re doing great!”  We reached the gate of Signaghi by mid-afternoon and stopped for some drinks at a café that overlooked the huge valley we came from.  It’s always great when you can look back at what you’ve accomplished.

We quickly found our guesthouse, showered, and set out on the cobblestone road leading up into the center of town.  This town quickly grew on me as we walked through the tight streets past neatly stacked red-roofed buildings that made this ‘up in the clouds’ city so photogenic.  When we reached the town square we had a delicious sunset meal of salad, fish, potatoes, eggplant, and a couple bottles of wine from one of the local vineyards.  While we ate Jasper and Luka played at the nearby playground which was buzzing with kids, even at 10:30pm on a Tuesday night.  The evening couldn’t have been better, but we were sad to leave the next day.

Not only were we leaving the city, but Kellen and I also needed to part ways with Theo and his family in order to make it to Tbilisi on time.  It was hard saying our goodbyes to our teammate and his lovely family, but I guess all good things must come to an end.  It was the end of our Band of Brothers as we set out through Georgia.  Next stop: Tbilisi.