Day 1,492
Dog bite, on my leg
We left Chiatura cycling alongside the river through the canyon. It was almost possible to visualise it before man came along and exploited the landscape, sometimes we can add to nature, others we brutalise. Still we weren't complaining about having some tarmac to roll along. Along the way we passed probably my two favourite Soviet bus shelters of the trip so far. First was not a mosaic but stunning all the same, then the winner of the trip, the petrol station. The detail was incredible, covering the whole building, all the bus shelters are different but this one felt totally unique.
Bus stop outside Chiatura
We were still uncertain of which way to ride, Tom really wanted to ride up 10,000 feet to see a church and another mosaic but he was not really in the best form, Russian flu still making him feel unwell. So we planned a shorter day, see how he felt and would decide in the morning. We had spotted that there was a hotel after 40 miles so that was our destination. Each night violent thunderstorms arrived and having the flu in a tent in a thunderstorm was not a plan I was voting for. The ride had been much harder than anticipated due to the incredibly strong headwind, it made every turn of the pedals feel as if we were pedalling uphill, it was pretty miserable, not even the stunning views could make us happy.
Finally we approached a T-junction and just a couple of miles more to go. I eased up to wait for Tom when out of nowhere a large black dog ran up to me. The next minute was a complete blur, within seconds the dog had leapt at me and his large jaws clamped around my calf, I screamed and managed to drag my leg away, but he immediately attacked again, jaws clamping around my leg. I screamed, kicked out, then jumped off my bike putting it between me and the dog. Meanwhile Tom had arrived, and was desperately trying to get the dog away from me, he pulled out his can of pepper spray and aimed it towards the dog pressing down hard on the button but nothing happened. It took him a moment to work out how to remove the complicated safety switch, fortunately for the dog. A guy ran over and grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck. I was still in full on screaming mode. “The dog bit me twice!” I yelled at the guy, “Is this your dog?” he nodded, so I yelled again “It just bit me twice!”. I think it's called shock. The guy dragged his dog away, Tom resisted escalating the altercation, and nobody else took any notice, so I went and sat in a non-Soviet bus shelter to examine my leg and wonder if I needed to get a rabies jab. Fortunately the dog had just caused a few bruises and had not bitten deeply through the skin. He had clearly either been playing or just warning me. Still feeling shaken, I went to get back on my bike. To our amazement the owner let his dog loose again, it returned to eye up my other leg, chase a few cars and generally cause mayhem. Tom yelled at him and we just got out of there. Next to the junction was a police station but I just couldn't face talking to them, the owner was more at fault than the dog. In Georgia there is a policy of ‘one bite, then you're out’. I just wanted to get away and not risk harming the dog. Within minutes, still feeling shaken, we arrived at our hotel. The owner took one look at us and realised something was wrong. We explained, he immediately gestured for us to sit down, went and brought an antiseptic wash for my leg, called his wife, who examined me and confirmed no need to worry. She then popped the kettle on, nothing like a cuppa to restore calm!
By now we had had time to take in our surroundings. The hotel epitomised what had happened to so many businesses post Covid or how a new highway takes away passing traffic, or how a massive drop in the population impacts on trade. It simply dries up, goes elsewhere. The restaurant next door closed, then the petrol station. It becomes too expensive to employ staff, slowly, bit by bit the building becomes neglected, the grounds overgrown. The elegant entrance becomes an extension of the family home, a TV in the corner, work tools set up in another. A bucket to catch a leak. The bedroom wasn't much better. Surfaces ok, but the whole building needed a deep clean, but who could do it and why? They were clearly hanging on, but the end can't be far away, then this once beautiful hotel will slowly fall into ruins like many others we have seen, not just here in Georgia but around the world. Despite all of this, they took time to be so kind to Tom and I. In the morning they invited us to join them for a coffee and a chat. We left, wishing them well and wondering just where they got the strength to keep on going.
My leg was still aching but no massive bruising had developed overnight, so no post attack photos! Still it was decision time, mountains or Tbilisi? A few easier days, time to stop and smell the roses or up up up. Tom still wasn't right, I was unsure how I would react to dogs, and there would be dogs in them there hills, so Tbilisi won.
Our next few miles took us off road, into a massive headwind, small rocks throwing our wheels every which way. Easy it wasn't but we enjoyed ourselves, a massive off-road downhill in Gori, where Stalin was born added to the fun. Lying between Kutaisi and Tbilisi, Gori was another important stopping point on the Silk Road. The town itself was large, full of modern blocks of flats, I couldn't imagine it looked like that when Stalin lived here. In the centre the skyline is dominated by a medieval citadel sitting atop of a massive hill. In Georgian, the word for hill or heap is gora, hence the city’s name. The hilltop has been occupied for several thousand years, but records show that it was used as a fort since the 12th century. The current building has been standing since 1630. We decided to admire from below and head off for a closer look at some modern attractions. Unfortunately the Stalin Museum was closed, though not being a fan I wasn't too disappointed. At the base of the citadel is the impressive art work, the Memorial of Georgian War Heroes, by Georgian sculptor, Giorgi Ochiauri. It consists of 8 seated larger-than-life soldiers. Arranged in a circle, each one is damaged in some way, with limbs or faces missing, to represent the impact of war. I found it incredibly moving. In a sense it encapsulates how war has damaged Gori itself over the centuries. It suffered massively during the Russo-Georgian war in 2008, with airstrikes killing many citizens and even being occupied by Russian troops. The people we met were really friendly, we got the usual waves, hellos, and even an ice cream. Yum!
We decided not to stay in the city but head onwards to nearby Uplistsikhe, not to sleep in the cave village that dominates the hillside, but a family-run home-stay. We arrived in time to join the extended family for a meal, virtually everything on the table home grown, even the wine came from their grapes. The food we have eaten in Georgia is some of the best we've eaten anywhere, the flavour of the vegetables is something we've lost in the pursuit of extended shelf life and profit in the UK.
The following morning after another fantastic breakfast, with even home churned butter and the best tasting eggs ever, we headed back to the road. After a whizz through the village, turning down several offers of coffee we picked up a dirt road by the river. This was great fun, we were even tempted to take the old railway bridge across the river, but decided to stay with an actual path, unsure of just how we would cross the fields on the other side.
Just one more stop before we got to Tbilisi, in Mtsheta, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. Due to its age, its monuments and churches have jointly been awarded UNESCO World Heritage Status. We had come to visit the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. Dating from the 4th century, the present building was built in the 11th century. Despite the Russian imperial authorities whitewashing many of its priceless frescos so much has survived. It is considered to be one of the four great Cathedrals of the Georgian Orthodox world. History has it that Jesus’ robe is buried below the cathedral. There was definitely an amazing atmosphere within the church, Tom especially struggled to tear himself away.
We were tempted to stay another night, but we have so many things to consider. So in the morning we headed to Tbilisi for maybe our last day of riding in Georgia. But what next? Do we continue on our journey, and if so where to next? Or is it time to return home and begin the next chapter of our lives together?
