One experience in particular meant that this trip will forever have a special place in our hearts.
We are in Armenia, along Lake Sevan. We cycle on paved country roads, but the bikes have wide 3-inch tires and our pack-up is minimal. What we have in mind is something completely different from paved idyll. In the foothills of the mighty Caucasus, we have seen a crossing which will be our first decidedly bikepacking adventure ever. From the lake, a network of hiking trails leads over the mountains, to the Geghard monastery, on the other side. We believe we can cross the low mountains along these paths. In the last village we fill the bags with food and water.
As we cycle along the bumpy dirt road past the town sign and the cemetery, dark clouds lurk in the distance, like a warning we try to ignore. We are determined on our adventure and nothing will stop us now. We have no idea what we will find in the mountains. Just a guess that the network of paths is good enough to cycle on, and coherent enough that we can reach the monastery in a few days.
After just a few hours, the dirt road narrows to a rut. Then the rut turns into a goat path. Soon it also ends and in front of us are large open meadows, without either paths or roads. On the map we see paths that do not exist in reality. We drive over meadows, in the direction of another path, which appears a little later. We are beginning to sense how this crossing will turn out. Nevertheless, spirits are high and we feel free in the wide open mountain landscape.
Towards evening we see a bus in the distance. It is parked in the middle of the meadow. Next to it is a small wooden shed with a tin roof, and a large paddock for animals. We see a rider on horseback, further up the mountain, who is rounding up cattle. As we approach the bus, we hear dogs barking, and 5 large wolf dogs come threateningly towards us. They are very aggressive, baring their teeth as they fan out in front of us. They are clearly protecting the place. Before the situation develops, a woman's voice calls out to them, and they immediately run back to the bus. A small elderly woman comes forward and gestures for us to come inside. We put the bikes in the grass and follow along.
The woman speaks Armenian, we understand nothing, but follow her around the animal pen as she feeds the calves. Meanwhile, the men return home from the mountain. They have herded the cattle together on horseback, and are now closing them in the paddock. Everything takes place in a calm and almost cozy way. There is a very special presence and atmosphere around the entire stage. When the cattle have been let in, the woman invites us into the shed, where there is a huge stack of pancakes on the table. All the men and boys come in and we sit close together, on 3 beds, in the little shed, eating pancakes while trying to communicate. We have no common language, so everything is done with signs and facts. We understand that they invite us to sleep in the bus at night. We prefer our tent and set it up next to the bus. Then we are invited to dinner. Everything tastes fantastic. The mood is good. One of the boys starts a generator and a small television is turned on so we can watch entertainment in Armenian.
The next morning we are again invited in for breakfast, and when the men start driving the cattle out onto the mountain, we follow the elderly woman around as she feeds the animals again. The dogs have been chasing wolves away all night, and one of the dogs has got a big wound on the muzzle from fighting with the wolves. When we start packing, the woman takes us into another small shed, shows us that she makes cheese in here, and gives us a huge lump for the trip.
As we cycle from there, our hearts overflow with happiness and gratitude. Even though we couldn't talk, this family has invited us into their lives and their world. Show us how they live. And we are eternally grateful to them for the hospitality and openness they showed us. And we are grateful to them for showing us how uncomplicated and beautiful it can be to meet strangers with charity and trust. It is difficult to describe in words what such an experience does to one. But for us, it was so defining that we knew we would seek out these kinds of magical experiences again and again. And that's how our passion for bikepacking started.
