One experience in particular made this trip forever have a special place in our hearts.

We are in Armenia, along Lake Sevan. We cycle on a paved country road, but the bikes have wide 3-inch tires, and our luggage is minimal. What we have in mind is something completely different than a paved idyll. In the foothills of the mighty Caucasus, we have spotted a crossing that will be our first real bikepacking adventure ever. From the lake, a network of hiking trails leads into the mountains, to the Geghard monastery, on the other side. We believe that we can cross the low mountains along these trails. In the last village we fill our bags with food and water.

As we cycle along the bumpy dirt road past the town sign and the cemetery, dark clouds loom in the distance, a warning we try to ignore. We are determined on our adventure, and nothing is going to stop us now. We have no idea what we will find in the mountains. Just an assumption that the network of paths is good enough to cycle on, and connected enough that we can reach the monastery in a few days.

After just a few hours, the gravel road has narrowed to a rut. Then the rut becomes a goat path. Soon it too ends and in front of us lie large open meadows, without either paths or roads. On the map we see paths that do not exist in reality. We drive across meadows, in the direction of another path that appears a little later. We begin to sense how this crossing will degenerate. Nevertheless, spirits are high and we feel free in the large 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 pen for animals. We see a rider on horseback, further up the mountain, herding cattle. As we approach the bus we hear dogs barking, and 5 large wolfhounds come threateningly towards us. They are very aggressive and baring their teeth as they spread out in a fan in front of us. They are clearly protecting the place. Before the situation develops, a soft female voice calls them, and they immediately run back to the bus. A small older woman comes forward and gestures for us to come inside. We put our bicycles in the grass and follow.

The woman speaks Armenian, we don't understand anything, but we follow her around the animal pen while she feeds the calves. In the meantime, the men come home from the mountain. They have herded the cattle together on horseback, and are now closing them in the pen. Everything happens in a calm and almost cozy way. There is a very special presence and atmosphere around the whole scene. When the cattle are closed 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 small shed, eating pancakes while we try to communicate. We have no common language, so everything is done with signs and facts. We understand that they are inviting 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 atmosphere 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 invited in for breakfast again, and as the men start to drive the cattle out onto the mountain, we follow the older woman around as she feeds the animals again. The dogs have been chasing wolves away all night, and one of the dogs has a big wound on its snout from fighting with the wolves. As we start to pack up, the woman takes us into another small shed, shows us that she makes cheese here, and gives us a huge lump for the trip.

As we cycle away, our hearts are overflowing with happiness and gratitude. Even though we couldn't speak, this family has invited us into their lives and their world. Showed 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 love and trust. It's hard to describe in words what such an experience does to you. But for us, it was so defining that we knew we wanted to seek out these kinds of magical experiences again and again. And that's how our passion for bikepacking began.