Georgia
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SHATILI IS A SMALL VILLAGE centered around a mideval fortress on the border of Chechenya and Georgia in the Khevsureti region. It is on UNESCOâs world heritage list. On the map it might seem like a short trip, only about 140 km north of Tbilisi. But that piece of road probably contains some of the most satisfactory kilometers an average sesationseeking personality will ever experience.

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From an altitude of 800 meters a winding Â«cattletrackÂ» takes you to 3000 meters, and down to 700. During the climb and decent, you face numerous possibilities of free fall several houndred meters into the river in the bottom of the valleys on both sides af the Davitjari pass. Something which actually happened with a Landcruiser some days later later. None of the nine passengers survived. If I add that we travelled in a minibus stuffed with 16 people, and the trip one way took 10 hours not including stops, you might get a general feeling of the conditions. That said, I guarantee that the experience, also from a visual point of view, is extreme and will be burned into your mind forever.Â

Our trusty 4x4 Niva got a couple of days off.

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We decided to try out one of the many travelagencies in Georgia, just to get a feel of what they can offer tourists. We were promised a Mercedes minivan with lots of space for 7 passengers. Minibus, or mashrutka as itâs called in Georgia, is a common way of travelling. I consider them in general as overcrowded dangerous wrecks, and impossible to fit in with my 6â4. The drivers would with few exceptions fail any euroepan drivers test. Nevertheless, I accepted the offer from the travelagency, as I was promised to sit in front with a Â«trustedÂ» driver in a van with high technical standard.

A muliticultural low priced adventure.

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The tour started at 7 the following day from Tbilisi. When we arrived at Didube, which is like the mashrutka central station, and also where the agency was located. We were presented two average Ford Transit minibuses overcrowded with 16 passengers in each, not exactly Mercedes style. A mixed group consisting mostly of Georgians, supplemented with a few Americans, Ukrains and a Norwegian, set out to discover Shatili. After two stops in some obscure villages, the already stuffed minibuses were filled to the brim with bread and watermelons, and the temperature was stadily rising to 38 C. The car audio struggled to pump out Georgian folksongs, and I senced a coming disaster, still in firm believe that the drive to Shatili would take only 3-4 hours.

Vazha Pshavela 1861-1915

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The first stop on the trip was at a memorial for the Georgian writer Vazha-Pshavela. Vazha-Pshavela 1861-1915) is the pen-name of the Georgian poet and writer Luka P. Razikashvili, a classic of the new Georgian literature. He was author of many literary works (Poems: "Aluda Ketelauri", "Bakhtrioni", "Gogotur and Apshina", "Host and Guest", "Snake eater", "Eteri", "Mindia", etc.). Poems and narrative stories of Vazha-Pshavela are published in more than 20 languages. He was born in a small village Chargali and graduated from the Pedagogical Seminary in Gori and then during two years he was unattached student of the St. Petersburg University. Afterwards he returned to Georgia and worked as a teacher of Georgian language.He was a representative of a National-Liberation movement of Georgia. A shrine had been built close to his home, which in itâs turn had been converted into a museum. As the presenter at the museum only talked in Georgian, I got a rather limited view of a man obviously living in humble conditions writing important stuff. He had lost some of his fingers, I understood, and in order to write he had created some prothesis. That impressed me. Not only was he a great writer, but also an innovator. Then we had a flat tire, and half an hour stop. At that time I started to suspect that this trip could take a wee bit more than 3-4 hours.

Â«Huston, we have a problemÂ».

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From 1500 to 3000 meters...and down to 700, the road gets substantial worse. The roads are washed away when it rains, and is on constant repair. Nevertheless the two minivans climbed steadily upwards, and dangerlously close to the abyss below I might add, crawling upwards the drivers were swapping only between first and second gear. The view to the Caucasus massive got more and more impressive as we climbed upwards. Close to the top of the pass I noticed that the temperaturegauge started to hit the red level in my bus. Only minutes after, the depressing smell of burned clutch filled the coupe. Given the remote location in the exact middle of nowhere and without any callphone coverage, it was appropriate to remember the famous words from the Apollo 13 mission. But there were no ingenious enginners or worried ground control there to help us. Judging from the worried faces of the drivers, this really ment BIG problems. The boiling hot water vaporized from the engine accompanied by the devastating strong smell of burned clutch.

Thereâs hope in some bottles of mineralwater.

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The question was: Had the engine survived? One driver doubted it, but the other one was more of an optimist. No water in sight, made him thouroughly search and empty the two minibuses for any bottles of mineralwater present among the passengers. An hour later the enginecoolerfluid mainly consisted of a mix of great mineralwaterbrands like Likani, Nabeghlavi and Borjomi. The engine had cooled down and started again, but just to erupt in a vulcano of hot mineralwater. Two rubberhoses had exploded. They were easily tightened with steel thread, and after some thirty minutes the drivers concluded that the waterpump in fact had been destroyed, but the engine and clutch was intact. That meant that the car was leaking water for every meter it went forward, and the need for many stops to refill water. And we had just barely gotten half the way to Shatili. At that point I started to really regret that we didnât take our Niva, which my wife, sitting far behind me in the van in a pile of tents, watermelons and sleepingbags, totally agreed with.

Staying overnight in the mideval fortress.

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After a nervwrecking decent from the pass, and wiggling through a six meter high snowbarrier which could collapse any moment, we arrived at Shatili. The magnificent mideval fortress was a breathtaking sight. Built in stone and with some parts of converted to a hotel, it offered the most spectacular stay I have ever had. It was not Marriot, indeed, but then who wants a small square impersonal room at the Marriot in this spectacular scenery anyway. We had three floors, balcony, our own kitchen, a shower with running hot and cold water, and the most spectacular view and athmosphere one could wish for. The beds were made up with clean sheets, smelling like flowers. We could decide what floor we wanted to sleep on, and could use any of the floors as we liked. The host was a big, friendly decendant of the buliders of the fortress. He and his wife were easy to like. Open, friendly and professional. Their service attitude could be wished for in most corners of Europe. I might add that you can order dinner if needed. It was only me and my wife that wanted to stay overnight at the fortress. The others had decided to camp by the river some 10 kilometers away for free. But accomodations at the fortress for 50 GEL (20 EURO) a nigh must be considered very cheap at least for European and Americans. What a day! What a night!

Another day on the road.

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Shatili is located on the Chechen border, and as such the Russians from time to time demonstrates their borderline personality. Not long ago they pushed the Georgian border 5 kilometers further into Georgia. The area is not completely secure, but realitively stable at the moment. We went to discover other fortresses and also enjoy more of the great natural beuty in the valley. The area has a lot of towers and small fortresses. Some of them inhabited. It is indeed a tall order to walk home from the river, as you can see from the picture. In this area the plaig was handled in a certain way. The ones fallen ill was deported away from the village into small compartments where they were left to die. Theese compartements are still there and contains human remains.

Back to reality.

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The trip back to Tbilisi? Well, you know when the waterpump is broken on a veichle, there's running water off the engine all the time. I think 39 fillings later we arrived Tbilisi. But all this aside: IT WAS FANTASTIC!

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An ihabited fortress high up above the valley.

Young sheperds in the mountains.

...all in this beutiful landscape.