When God distributed the lands among the people, he forgot about the Georgians. When they sang a heart-rending song of lamentation, God was so moved that he gave them a piece of the land that he had earmarked for himself. This is the story that is told in Georgia. After landing in the capital Tbilisi, we first stand in a sauna. It's not paradisiacal, but hot. The thermometer reads 45 degrees - something we hadn't expected. We still don't know much about Georgia: that the country is about the size of Bavaria and borders the Black Sea to the east. And that it is almost completely covered by a really high mountain range - the Caucasus. But nobody had told us about this hot, sticky air. It covers the skin like a greasy film.
We are just dragging our luggage out of the airport when a man rushes up to us and greets us like old friends. Nico, who we only know digitally from the downhill forum, recognised us by our bike boxes. Now he's giving us a helping hand, organising, planning and delegating. That's fine by us: Nico knows where to stow the boxes at the airport, where to buy the best provisions - and that this rotten rope is enough to lash our bikes to the roof of his equally dilapidated car. As we finally turn up the first pass road in the car, our new friend hands us a few bottles of "Borjomi" in the back. The best mineral water in the country. Only later do we realise what a gift it was: this water is more expensive here than Coca-Cola. We are on our way to Tusheti, in the far east of the country. Even for Georgia, this is the end of the world. But it's also the most exciting region for biking. There is hardly a peak below the 3000 metre mark. Our route takes us from Tbilisi over the Greater Caucasus. The road is not that old and is the most adventurous road construction I have ever experienced. Tightly wound and exposed, the ribbon winds its way up the mountain flanks.
You can find the full story about the Georgian adventure as a PDF download below.
.
