This is a town so steeped in history
that it asks to be explored; it needs
time and patience for its secrets to
reveal themselves.
But sadly we have neither. We relax
briefly, pause for coffee. Then, eager
to get on, we fill up with fuel, pump
up the tyres and set off again, beyond
the tourists, into the valley between
the Caucasus and Svaneti mountains.
Later, on a small, deserted road,
Gareth sees an abandoned bridge
high above the grey turbulent wa-
ters of the river. We stop to play.
Old bridges with missing and rotten
timbers, like mountains, need to be
crossed: because they are there. Not
being stupid, we check the planks,
rearranging some so that we and our
bikes don't end up drowned. Gareth
crosses first. I follow, but too close.
His bike kicks a short plank loose
and quickly I have to choose another
line to miss the gap that has opened
up, wide enough to swallow my front
wheel. A YouTube moment just avert-
ed.
A short while later Gareth pulls
over: puncture. I think the score is
6-0 to me. It's a six-inch nail. He must
aim for them. The tube is ripped and
cannot be patched. Hot and sweaty,
we replace it with our spare on the
side of the road.
Finally we reach the dirt and life
becomes interesting with some mud
and rough stuff to keep us honest.
Filming doesn't encourage sedate rid-
ing and we fly along the rutted track
that still follows the river.
The mountains are sparsely popu-
lated; villages we come across seem
TRAVERSE 41
desperately poor with many buildings
abandoned and falling apart. And
still the defensive towers, abandoned
monoliths to a forgotten people de-
fending themselves against a forgot-
ten enemy. In one small village alone
we saw twelve of them standing tall
and silent, rising high above the roof
tops.
We pause to explore deserted farm
buildings built alongside one of the
towers. There is something beautiful
about its sad desolation. To reach it
we must ride across a small wood-
en bridge and scramble up a steep
earthen slope. It's like an old Norman
motte and keep fortification. It ap-
pears that the enemy now is poverty.
The rural way of life here seems more
tenuous and insubstantial than the
towers that have about them an eter-