Thursday, December 20, 2018

A 2018 Retrospective



Tbilisi, December 20

The Earth has almost completed another lap of the sun, Christmas vacation is here and it's time once again to cast an eye back on the year that has just passed.  I like taking the opportunity to catch my breath and remember everything that happened in an eventful year.

Raja Ampat and Maluku

Manta flyby
Village children on Arborek at one of our Science Saturdays
A shadow puppet play about manta ray conservation
2018 began on Arborek Island, a small island in Raja Ampat, an archipelago of small islands off the western tip of New Guinea in far eastern Indonesia.  Terri was working as the project manager for a small group of volunteers, while I put my newly-earned PADI Open Water Scuba Instructor rating to use as an instructor.  Raja Ampat is a beautiful area with some of the best-preserved coral reefs and highest biodiversity anywhere in the tropical Indo-Pacific, and we were lucky to be located next to some of the local hotspots for manta rays.  The diving was fabulous, if a bit challenging thanks to raging currents, and we saw a career's worth of manta rays (both reef mantas, Mobula alfredi, and the much larger oceanic mantas, Mobula birostris).  The work, though, was frustrating, particularly for Terri, and within a week we had decided that we would leave after a month.  The Christmas period was particularly challenging, as many of our local Papuan staff disappeared without warning, leaving us short-staffed.  We also didn't get to do many of the community outreach programs that are a key part of the program, as local schools were closed for the holidays.  It was fun at times, but we were relieved when we finally put ourselves aboard a speedboat back to Waigeo in early January.  

At stunning Pianeymo
Ho-hum, another manta :-)
The crew bids us farewell on our departure
We spent a couple of days birdwatching once we were off Arborek, spotting both the Wilson's and the red birds of paradise in one action-packed morning of hiking with a local guide.  I had seen them before, in the summer of 2014, when I travelled through the region, but it was a first for Terri.  


Red bird of paradise

Wilson's bird of paradise
                                      
We then stopped off for three days of fabulous muck diving in Ambon, the capital of the province of Maluku.  The weather was awful, as the rainy season was at its height, but we still managed to spot lots of new species of tiny critters, although not the very rare psychadelic frogfish which we had hoped for.  Ambon is a treasure trove of rare species, and I would love to go back the next time I find myself in Indonesia, as well as venturing out to the Banda Islands (the sea was too rough and the weather too poor to contemplate doing that on this trip.)  On January 17th we flew back to Bali, glad to be back in our familiar, comfortable surroundings.



A beautifully tinted weedy scorpionfish (Rhinopias frondosa)
Coconut octopus (Amphioctopus marginatus) in Ambon
Striped bumblebee shrimp (Gnathophyllum americanum)

Bali

I spent three separate stints in Bali in 2018.  The first was a month in January and February, as the rainy season poured down on the island.  I spent a lot of time indoors, writing, but also ventured out diving now and then.  An American man whom we had met in Ambon, Austin, came to stay for two months in Terri's rental unit and he and I did some great muck diving in Tulamben while Terri was off to New Zealand in advance of me.  We spotted tons of new species of nudibranchs, thanks to the eagle eyes of Komang, our fabulous dive guide, who also gave us excellent photography tips.  I managed to finish the first draft of my book about cycling the Silk Road as well, which was a major accomplishment for me for the year.


The second stint in Bali happened in April and May, after New Zealand and before Namibia.  Again diving was the order of the day, although I started my stay with a four-day bicycle mini-tour all around Bali.  When Terri got back (a few days after me), we did lots of diving, and I started reworking the first draft of my manuscript.  We had some great days of diving in Tulamben, as well as just across the street in Lipah, where we found tiny Costasiella sp. sapsucking slugs that we had never spotted before; once we knew they were there, we saw them everywhere.



I spent a final two frantic days in Bali in early July, packing up my life after our Namibia trip before heading to Ottawa and on to a new life in Tbilisi; it had been 11 months since I moved to Bali, and they were amazing, life-affirming months that were good for the soul and for my writing.


Lake Buyan

Seahorse

Taringa halgerda

Eubranchus sp.

Thecacera sp.

Ornate ghost pipefish (Solenostomus paradoxus)

Hypselodoris infucata

Paddleflap scorpionfish (Rhinopias eschmeyeri)

Emperor shrimp (Periclimenes imperator) riding atop a Tyrannodoris luteolineata

Maree in Lipah Bay, our local dive spot

Halgerda willeyi

Doto greenamyeri laying eggs

Costasiella sp. sapsucking slug

Carminodoris estrelyado

Discodoris boholiensis

Wunderpus photogenicus, the wunderpus

Chelinodura hirundina

Dasycaris zanzibarica, the Zanzibar whip coral shrimp

Costasiella sp. sapsucking slug

A big gathering of Stylocheilus striatus sea hares

Costasiella kuroshimae, the "Shawn the Sheep" sapsucking slug

New Zealand

Terri is from New Zealand, and as long as we had been together (eight years and counting!) we had been tossing around the idea of visiting New Zealand.  Finally, in February and March of this year, we made it happen.  We restricted ourselves to the North Island, but even so we had difficulty fitting in all the places we wanted to see, and all of Terri's friends and family whom we wanted to meet.  It was eye-wateringly expensive, but well worth it.  We hiked, biked, paddled and drove all over the North Island, seeking out rare native birds, wild beaches and campsites.  We circled the island, up to the Northland, then down south along the east coast and back north along the west coast.  It was great fun, but the best way to follow what we did is to read these blog posts:




For more photos from our NZ travels, click here

While we were hiking along Ninety Mile Beach, I received a job offer from an international school in Tbilisi, Georgia.  Terri and I spent two days talking it over as we hiked, and I decided to accept the job, putting an end to three years of footloose freedom but helping restock depleted financial reserves.

Terri and 4 of her 5 grandkids on the farm near Wellsford

Hiking the Mangawhai Heads trail

Hiking Bream Heads

A lost little blue penguin

Ninety Mile Beach

Kayaking with Gavin and Michelle

Terri's sister's family in Upper Hutt

A takahe, one of the world's most endangered birds

Kakas

A prehistoric looking tuatara

Paddling the Whanganui River
Hiking the Tongariro Crossing


Looking down on the crater lakes of Tongariro
Terri cycling the Timber Trail


Mount Taranaki

Terri and Jess, her friend from Leysin days

Terri and her good friend Ross and Debbie in Hamilton

Namibia

In early May, Terri flew to Zambia to visit her school there, the Olive Tree Learning Centre, and to help out a party of volunteers from Canada and Australia who were spending time there.  We rendezvoused in Johannesburg airport and flew together to Windhoek, Namibia, to pick up our beloved Stanley, who had spent the year in storage there.  We had to move Stanley to South Africa for complicated reasons related to customs duties, and we had been regretting not being able to spend more time in everyone's favourite country in southern Africa back in 2017.  

Our trip through Namibia this time was absolutely fantastic, the culmination of Stanley's Travels.  We had finally worked out the optimum way to camp wild, completely off the grid, and so we did as much of that as we could.  We drove out to Swakopmund, then turned inland to Damaraland, an area we had briefly touched on in 2017.  This time we stopped and camped wild in a fantastic, unpopulated landscape, sparsely inhabited by springbok, gemsbok and giraffe.  Every night we had a campfire under the stars, cooked over the coals and stared up at the stars.  I tried my hand at some astrophotography, and loved learning an entirely new type of photography.  I had found an old macro lens while cleaning out my father's house, and spent a lot of time taking photos of tiny, colourful wildflowers.  The coastal desert of Namibia, too dry to support permanent human habitation, is one of the great outdoor wildlife adventure spots of Africa, free of the pressure of exploding human populations everywhere else on the continent.  Terri and I felt unbelievably free and close to the spirit of the San hunter-gatherers from whom all humans are ultimately descended, between our campsites in the middle of nowhere and our visits to San painting galleries in the middle of nowhere.  Our drive up to the Marienflusse, right on the Angolan border, was the highlight of the trip for me.  One day, in a couple of years' time, we will be back, this time to cross the border and drive north, all the way to Europe, before returning south to South Africa along the east side of Africa.  When we do, we will be ready, after our experiences camping and driving in the middle of absolutely nowhere Namibia.

After the Marienfluss, we returned south, via the wonderful Hoanib River and its legendary desert elephants and a return visit to amazing Etosha National Park, eventually passing south through Windhoek and heading regretfully south, via the epic Fish River Canyon and the lovely Richtersveld, into South Africa.  We left Stanley at a storage place outside Cape Town, ready for his next adventures whenever we leave Georgia.  Africa is definitely in our blood now, and we will be back again and again, between Stanley and the Olive Tree Learning Centre.

We flew out of cold, rainy Cape Town on the last day of June, bound for Bali and new adventures afterwards.  





Somehow I seem to have neglected to write a blog post about Namibia; I shall have to remedy this grave omission soon!  Namibia really is one of the great travel destinations on earth, and we loved our time in this astounding country.



Sunset colours on the Brandberg
Half moon


Hartmann's mountain zebras near the Brandberg

Ruppell's korhaans

Another delicious roadside picnic lunch


This is what the road ahead should look like!

Golden grasslands of Damaraland
Wildflower colours


Outback pancakes
The best way to spend an evening:  campfire and starlight


In the shallow waters of the Hoanib River


Giraffes wandering past our campsite

More golden grasslands

Wildflowers

Passing motorists trying to fix Stanley, who wouldn't start

Outback campfire fare in our beloved potjie

Namaqua chameleon

The track along the Marienfluss

Looking across the Cunene River into Angola

Braaing boerwors over a campfire

The Hoanib River flowing through the Khowarib Gorge

Dancing from pure joy in the Khowarib Gorge

One-hour exposure of the night sky near the South Pole

Stanley and the Milky Way
Desert elephant in the Hoanib River


An attempt to capture the Milky Way

Secretarybirds in Etosha

Wisdom

Play-fighting elephants

Finally got the Milky Way!

Black rhino and gembsbok

Me and Stanley on the Etosha Pan


The best astrophoto of the trip!


A Damara dik-dik, an elusive creature spotted at last by Terri
Sunset heron near Etosha
Terri's birthday on the Orange River
Wildflowers in the Richtersveld

Ottawa

I spent most of July in Ottawa, visiting my mother and catching my breath after a whirlwind few months of travel.  I didn't do much other than read, sort through gear in preparation for my move to Tbilisi, rewrite my manuscript (an almost complete third draft), play cribbage with my mother and go out to various cultural events like the Ottawa Bluesfest (where we saw Blue Rodeo, Colin James and a number of lesser-known but equally talented acts), Shakespeare in the Park, Chamberfest and Music and Beyond).  It was great to catch up with my mother, a wonderful person who did so much to make me who I am today.  At the end of July I flew off to Tbilisi to start a new chapter in my life.


Georgia

I arrived in Tbilisi, dumped my gear in my new house and then flew to Leysin for a flying visit.  I picked up winter gear that had been sitting in my sister Audie's basement for three years, visited a few friends, then headed back to Tbilisi.  Terri arrived a day later and I dragged her, sick and jet-lagged, off for a four-day hike in Tusheti, a magical mountain region in northeastern Georgia.  It was a tough but rewarding hike over the high Atsunta Pass into the Khevsureti region, past ancient stone villages studded with high defensive towers, past meadows of wildflowers and beautiful mountain vistas.

After that I was at work.  It was certainly a shock to the system, returning to the classroom after three sabbatical years.  I am teaching physical science, geometry and physics.  The workload is certainly lighter than I had in Leysin (for one thing it's not a boarding school, so there are no residential duties), but it's still mentally tiring to return to the discipline of work after so long.  

We got away for a couple of great weekend trips in September, first hiking from Juta to Roshka (linking the Kazbegi region to Khevsureti and thus joining up with August's hike), then going back to Juta on my birthday weekend for more hiking around the spectacular Chaukhi massif.  

My 50th birthday came as a bit of a shock, but Terri did her best to soften the blow with amazing food, a lovely weekend in Juta and (best of all) a present of a unicycle.  I can now ride it reasonably well, but it was a long, tough learning curve.  I can't believe I'm a half century old now; I don't feel like it (at least not most of the time!).

In October we headed off to enchanting Svaneti for a week of hiking; you can read about it in more detail here.  

When we returned from this trip, we at long last were able to buy a Mitsubishi Delica van after more than two months of searching, allowing us to explore more of rural Georgia on weekends.  We have visited Uplistsikhe, Tbilisi National Park, Tianeti and other areas close to Tbilisi.  As well, on our long weekend in November we drove down to Armenia to poke around the Debed Canyon, an area full of very old, very impressive stone churches.  All this has whetted our appetite for further exploration of this ancient, historic, culturally fascinating country.

Last Friday school let out, and we have been out skiing, first in Gudauri (the best-known Georgian ski area, just north of Tbilisi), and (starting tomorrow) in Goderdzi (near Batumi and the Black Sea) and also in Tetnuldi (up in Svaneti).  We can't wait!!





What 2018 brought, and what 2019 promises

We are here for at least another 18 months, with summer 2019 having Kyrgyzstan pencilled in for some serious hiking, along with more hiking here in Georgia.  I can't wait to see what else 2019 brings (including, I hope, a publishing contract for my Silk Road book!).  Terri and I would love to welcome some of you to Georgia to explore this intriguing mountain nation.

2018 was a wonderful year, and a year of two contrasting halves:  frenetic movement in the first half, then a more steady, measured pace through the second half.  Freedom in the first seven months, then wage servitude for the last five months.  Tropical heat for much of the first half of the year, then a return to the seasonal rhythm of the temperate latitudes.

I enjoyed crossing paths with so many friends and relatives over the course of the year.  In no particular order, we met up with our new diving friend Austin; my friend Eileen; Terri's daughter Selena and her husband and grandkids; Terri's dear friends Gavin and Michelle; her cousins Steven and Toni, Mark and Gary; her delightful Aunt Lois and Uncle Phil; her brother Trevor; her childhood neighbour and friend; Terri's sister and most of her nieces and nephews; her Leysin colleague Jess; Terri's dear friends Ross and Debbie; our Leysin friend Thomas; my former student Ardak; Terri's friends (and epic travellers) Lilian and John; my Yangon friends Reid and Beth; and our new friend Brian.  There are many more who have slipped my mind, but as I get older, meeting up with friends and family becomes steadily more important.  

May 2019 bring all of you, my dear readers, peace and tailwinds and as much adventure as you want.  

Tusheti wildflower

Tusheti defensive towers

Tusheti wildflower

Butterfly and thistle


Tusheti mountain scenery


Thistle and beetle

Tusheti wildflower

Tired but elated atop the Atsunta Pass

On the descent into Khevsureti

Wildflower near Juta

Crossing the Sedzele Pass to Roshka

Camped beneath the Chaukhi Massif

Roshka wildflower

The green, green hills of the Caucasus

Chaukhi Massif

More wildflower and beetle action near Roshka

Barbecued mtsvadi, the best food in Georgia!

Yours truly at 50

Part of the wonderful half-century celebrations

My new unicycle!

Gergeti Trinity Church

Birthday weekend above Juta

Chaukhi Massif yet again

Terri hiking up to the Chaukhi Pass

Autumn colours in Svaneti

Looking down on Mestia

Me in Svaneti

The iconic peak of Ushba

Svan tower and fall foliage

Typical Svan defensive tower

Lamaria Church in Ushguli, Svaneti

Enchanting Ushguli

Hiking near Zhabeshi, Svaneti

Fall colours near Zhabeshi

Terri and I below Mt. Ushba


Becho waterfalls, Svaneti

Cycling through an ancient oak forest in Tbilisi National Park

Armazi Fortress

Ancient Uplistsikhe, near Gori

Me in Uplistsikhe

Georgia-Samoa rugby match
Birtvisi
Drying persimmons, Debed Canyon

Me with beautiful khachkars, Debed Canyon

Odzun church, Debed Canyon, Armenia

Odzun church, Armenia

Haghpat church, Armenia

Haghpat

Me with a MiG-21, Mikoyan Brothers Museum, Sanahin

Interior of Akhtala Church, Armenia

Terri and I in Gudauri

Terri ripping up the pow in Gudauri

Ski tour in Gudauri

The turns that we earned by skinning

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

A first taste of winter!


Terri and I atop Gudauri

Raising a glass with Brian on our first evening
It's nearly 8 am here in Tbilisi and it's still dark outside, as we're only 2 days from the shortest day of the year, and since the increased speed of the earth's rotation as we near perihelion on January 3rd means that the sun will come up a few minutes later a day until December 27th.  It will certainly make getting out of bed and going to work that much harder in early January once our Christmas holidays are over!

We are back in Tbilisi for a couple of days of rest, recovery and resupply after starting our Christmas holidays with 4 days of skiing in Gudauri, Georgia's biggest, highest-altitude and best-known ski resort.  We had originally planned to start with a trip to Bakuriani, but we found out a few days before our departure that our resort of choice, Bakuriani, wasn't going to open on schedule due to a lack of snow, so we reshuffled our itinerary.

Brian and Terri in action
On Friday, December 14th we welcomed Brian, a friend of friends of ours, to Tbilisi.  He arrived at the usual unsocial hour of most Tbilisi flights (5:20 am) and had a much-needed nap to beat jet lag while I went off for my final half-day of classes.  I returned, we packed up Douglas, our faithful Delica, and Terri, Brian and I drove north towards Gudauri.  The road was eerily empty, at least on the driving part of the road.  We drove past hundreds of trucks parked on the shoulder of the highway, waiting to cross the Jvari Pass to Russia.  It had snowed heavily on Wednesday and Thursday, and the pass was still closed to trucks, although open to cars.  We drove along, up the Aragvi Valley, until we reached the steep wall that marks the climb into Gudauri.  In the village it took a bit of tense maneuvering and navigating to get ourselves to the parking lot of our accommodation, as snow clearing hadn't yet really taken place.  Both we and Brian had booked apartments in a big complex, Gudauri Loft, located right beside the slopes.  We unpacked and Brian treated us to supper in the complex's restaurant, along with a huge, boisterous group of Russian tourists and entertained by a Georgian band.  The festivities continued long after we had gone to bed and echoed down the hallways, impeding sleep.

Me in the powder 
The following morning was the first day of the ski season in Gudauri, and the lifts were unexpectedly free of charge for the day, attracting big crowds.  There was plenty of powder accessible from the lifts, and we had a marvellous day under blue skies playing in the soft, fluffy snow.  The topmost lift wasn't open yet, and looking at the remnants of avalanches off the slopes below it, it was easy to see why.  There was almost no snow on the ground before the big dump on Wednesday, and so the new wind-driven snow didn't bond very well with the warm, bare ground below it, releasing in avalanches on almost all steep faces.  

An outdoor lunch on our first day
Georgia and its mountains
The conditions kept us from exploring too far afield in search of fresh tracks, although we had no need:  there were plenty of mellow, deep powder lines to be had everywhere.  For Terri and myself, it was the first time on skis in several years, but I found that, like riding a bicycle, skiing powder is something that I never forget how to do.  I was on my faithful fixed-heel Movement Goliath touring skis, and they handled as well as ever in the powder, leading to effortless floating over the top of the snow.  Terri also had a good day in the soft stuff, although her leg muscles were complaining by the end of the day.  Brian had a few more problems in the powder (not helped by the short, skinny skis he had rented), and his left leg was definitely unhappy by lunchtime.  We lunched at the top of the mountain, gazing out over the snowy peaks of the Caucasus and soaking up the sunshine.   

Dramatic light on nearby peaks
That evening we ate in our apartment, dining on fine mtsvadi (grilled meat) that Terri cooked up on our tiny hotplate; Terri has outfitted us with a travelling kitchen, inspired by our setup in Stanley, that leaves us independent of restaurants.  Brian is a cribbage fanatic, and so he and I played a few games.  He ended up well ahead in the final accounting, but we both enjoyed the games; cribbage was a big part of family evenings from a young age, and I really like the game.  Terri, Brian and I fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, as though we had known each other for decades rather than just two days.

A fine spot for lunch!
Sunday morning Brian awoke feeling unwell, probably a combination of altitude (we were sleeping at 2000 metres) and jet lag, so Terri and I set off alone up the mountain.  (Brian would venture out later on his own and ended up having a great day, with his leg feeling much better than on the previous day.)  We bought our season pass (a steal at US$ 225 for every ski resort in Georgia!). It was even sunnier than the day before, and the views were magnificent.  I was on my brand-new telemark skis; after a decade of skiing on a lovely pair of G3 Barons, I decided this year to trade up to a pair of properly fat powder skis, some Salomon Backlands.  In the powder, they proved magnificent, letting me ride far higher on top of the snow, making turning much more easily than I had in the past.  I was a bit wary of how well my fifty-year-old knees would hold up to the rigours of telemark turns, with their alternating lunges, but I needn't have worried.  My technique in powder came back to me very quickly, although I fell a couple of times on the groomed piste when I forgot how fat the skis were and managed to put one ski right on top of the other.  We climbed up to the highest available point on the mountain and soaked up the panoramic view of Caucasus peaks, including the beautiful Chaukhi Massif that we had twice hiked below in the fall.  Terri was skiing well, but was feeling whacked by altitude, so after a long, sun-drenched lunch halfway up the mountain, we parted ways, with her returning to the apartment to rest while I headed off to explore a ridge beside the resort.  

New telly skis, front and back
I remembered this ridge from our previous trip to Gudauri back in 2015.  It provides an easy ski tour, with 100 metres of climbing giving almost 400 metres of descent.  Luckily it's not steep enough for avalanches to be a serious worry, and there were other tracks to reassure me.  I shouldn't really have been up there alone, but it was close enough to the resort that Terri could keep an eye on me from the apartment should anything go wrong.  I ended up making two descents, both of them magnificent.  The snow was the best I had skied in two days, steep, deep and almost untracked.  I got into a good rhythm on the telemark skis, and looking back uphill I was narcissistically pleased with the even sine curve I had left on the snow.  Telemarking is a much more physical, technical style of skiing than you have with fixed heels, and it's indescribably pleasing to get it right.  I mused as I skied that there are few things as exhilarating in life as doing something complicated and doing it well, especially if it's something that involves both physical and mental skill.  Solving math contest problems, playing blitz chess, skiing powder, playing serve-and-volley tennis, playing piano and taking pictures of wildlife all fall into that category and I enjoy all of them.  I also enjoyed the sensation of putting on my skins and climbing uphill, earning my turns and getting a bit more exercise than you get riding the lifts.  I returned uphill on my skins to another delicious meal concocted by Terri and more cribbage with Brian.

Terri rips up the pow
Monday was a bit of a write-off.  Brian departed on a marshrutka for Tbilisi to meet up with his grown daughters while we lazed in our apartment, dissuaded from skiing by the whiteout fog blanketing the mountain.  Eventually, around noon, the clouds parted somewhat and we headed uphill, intent on doing the ski-tour line together that I had soloed the day before.  Sadly the clearing in the clouds proved to be a sucker hole, and we were enclosed in fog once we got halfway up the mountain.  There are few sensations more nauseating than trying to navigated downhill across a pure white landscape through pure white clouds:  there's nothing for the eyes to focus on, and you feel as though you're not moving when in fact you are.  We picked our way down slowly, both feeling a bit physically sick, trying not to lose the piste.  When we finally came out of the bottom of the clouds, it was grey, flat light that made it almost as hard to discern features as in the fog.  We bailed on the idea of touring and headed back for a lazy afternoon of studying Georgian and reading.

The infinite promise of a skin track
Tuesday was much better.  We checked out, packed our Delica, then set off to ski.  The skies were blue again and we decided to try our tour again.  The descent to the start of the skin track was wonderful, through fluffy, deep powder.  We put our skins on our skis and glided easily uphill.  Terri was feeling the altitude at first, but then got into the rhythm of the climb.  I love the feeling of climbing up on good snow sparkling in sunshine:  you never know for sure how the ski down will be, but the fluffy powder holds out the infinite promise of untold pleasures to come.  It was pretty and we were alone in the world, staring out at the neighbouring peaks.  The steeper faces were starting to shed snow in full-depth whale-mouth avalanches, exposing brown earth below.  There were alarming crown-wall fractures on many other faces, showing that the snowpack was far from stable.  We didn't venture too far off the tracks of other skiers in choosing our descent line.  I was on my fixed-heel Goliaths again, and the descent was just as satisfying as it had been two days previously.  Terri had recovered from altitude and had a great descent as well, laying down a series of elegant shorter-radius turns in the powder.  We both loved the ski down, and a brief skin brought us back to the piste.
Terri skinning up the hill

A rich reward for our efforts!
We skied down to our car, packed up and then made the fateful decision to drive uphill towards the top of the Jvari Pass to scout out off-piste descents and possible ski tours.  We got to the crest of the climb and then ran into a huge lineup of cars stuck, waiting for uphill convoys of trucks to pass.  Nobody was going anywhere in our direction, and there were limited options for turning around.  Eventually we backed out of our place in the queue and backed past everyone during a lull in uphill traffic, then pulled a seven-point turn between the high walls of snow and headed back downhill.  We did see a couple of fabulous-looking off-piste descents and filed them for future use; the full-blown ski touring possibilities, however, all seemed to be avalanche-prone and not so appealing.

We ground our way slowly back to Tbilisi behind hundreds of trucks.  When I cycled this road back in 2009, the Russian border was closed and there was almost no traffic.  Now trucks from Turkey and the entire post-Soviet world from Kazakhstan to Belarus trundle up and down relentlessly, making it far from ideal either for cycling or driving a car.  We were relieved to make it back to Tbilisi in one piece.

Terri descending the final pitch of our ski tour


Our tracks (along with a few dozen others)
Now we are planing our next adventures.  It seems as though Gudauri and Bakuriani aren't scheduled to receive more snow anytime soon, so we are looking at visiting Goderdzi (in Ajara, southwestern Georgia) and our autumn playground in Svaneti to get more snow.  With our legs and gear tuned up, we look forward to plenty more great descents! 



















Terri on our way to the bottom of our ski tour