The following days are characterized by great scenery, countless meters of altitude and happy places to spend the night. We now follow the M2, the only main road connecting Yerevan with Iran. The road is about 373 km long and leads us together with military vehicles and trucks through the Armenian mountains. Correctly read, military vehicles. At the latest when we see a Russian flag fluttering near the Azerbaijani western border, we realize that we are on the direct way into a fresh conflict area. Russia has supported Armenia in the recent (lost) war against Azerbaijan and facilitated a peace agreement. The conflict is paused for now, but the Russian (peace)keepers have remained. The M2 runs first along the Turkish-Armenian border and then along the Azerbaijani-Armenian border. Again and again we spy guard posts and barracks, trenches, barbed wire fences and other conflict precautions in the barren landscape.
After two days we enter the village of Areni. The settlement is surrounded by apricot orchards, grapes and gardens and is spectacularly situated at the foot of a vertical cliff. We buy eggs at a stall and are immediately invited for a coffee. “No time,” we say, “It’s getting dark and we need to find a place for our tent.” Alman understands our problem and immediately points to a small platform next to his stall. Now that our spot has been found, we are very happy to be invited for coffee, as the evening’s descent has once again left us feeling properly chilled.
We pitch our tent, rejoice in the unexpected comfort of running drinking water right outside the front door, and just as we are about to cook dinner, Alman beckons us again into his small, heated shack behind the displays. “Armenian Barbeque, come come,” he says in broken English. So we sit in the warmth, rolling roasted meat, fried potatoes and fresh herbs into pieces of lavash, when suddenly another tourist appears. Katharina from the Czech Republic needed a break from the office and so she is now hitchhiking around Armenia and Georgia. On the way she is with enviably little luggage… and skis. Katharina speaks Russian and English and so the communication with our hosts is much easier. For sleeping, Katharina only needs a thin foam mat and her sleeping bag, with which she settles in next to our tent. Compared to her, we are traveling with an incredible amount of gear! Katharina is an old hitchhiker. She has already hitchhiked three times from the Czech Republic to Southeast Asia. We are impressed and let ourselves be inspired by it the next day. Immediately after Areni, a side road leads from the M2 into a spectacular side valley. We lock the bikes, stick our thumbs up in the air, and we’re already whizzing up the 500 meters of altitude at 50 km/h to a monastery. The return trip is also extremely easy, a car stops for us before we even give the thumbs up. The nice family gives us to understand that they want to drink a coffee on the way and completely uncomplicated we are also invited to it. Without asking many questions, the family also means us to eat cake, sandwiches and celebrate with them the small birthday picnic of the 5-year-old daughter.
A little later we are unexpectedly well fed and back at our bikes, where we immediately meet a true master of stone carving. Everywhere in Armenia the artfully hewn memorial stones “Khachkar” are present. They stand in and around the Armenian churches, at memorials, on hills, on cemeteries or simply at the wayside and impress with their detailed motifs. Ruben is 34 and has been practicing the fine art of stone carving for about 20 years. He uses a magnifying glass to show us his current work: in a circular subject, the tiny faces of the twelve apostles are in progress. His working tools are not much more than thin wires with which he works out the tiny details. We are impressed and very aware of our own limited abilities. For the rest of the day, we do what we do best at the moment: Pedaling to altitude.
After two more days of altitude training, we pull into Goris. In this Armenian Cappadocia we want to spend a break day after the exertions. Here we meet Rosa. One break day turns into two, and only after three nights we leave again. The weather is still more or less dry, but an incredibly strong wind is blowing. Who is often on the road with the bike knows: Wind is the cyclist’s biggest enemy! The expected descent turns out to be a dead end: The M2 is again impassable, because the road runs partly through the new territory of Azerbaijan. We have to turn around and earn back the already destroyed altitude meters with a lot of sweat. Hardly on the plateau the wind really picks up speed and we fight our way forward in the smallest gear at walking pace. The gusts of wind let us drive nonsensical arcs and if the weather were not so splendid, we would be certainly at the despair. Escape to the front is the order of the day and this leads us on a spectacular serpentine road first into the depths of the Vorotan Gorge and then immediately up again to the mountain village of Tatew. It is hard to believe that not only cars but also the entire heavy traffic between Iran and Yerevan travels on this steep, winding road. The lumbering trucks fight their way up the 12% incline, humming and smoking. Since all around us snow mountains rise into the sky and a cold night is announced, we treat ourselves to a shelter. The next days bring the next passes. And only after another good 2000 meters of altitude we reach the top of the 2535 meters high Tashtun pass. This imposing giant is the last boss that stands between us and the Iranian border. In a single long day we conquer this mountain range and at six o’clock in the evening we rush shivering down the southern side into the valley. We camp a few kilometers before Mehgri. The view we are offered is most impressive: craggy, bare rock edges frame the valley in steps and open up to the border river. Here, the Ares River flows and, together with a lot of barbed wire and fortifications, marks the borders between Azerbaijan, Armenia and Iran. Border area. We look directly at the towering mountains of Iran. We find ourselves a cheap room near the border crossing at Agarak. A cold catches up with me and we end up spending almost five days in this end of the world littered with car wrecks. We rejoice at the first signs of spring, bend anxiously over the scary looking weather forecast, wait for our PCR test and meet Gregory, an Englishman who is also on his way by bike.
We are incredibly grateful, the course of events has sent us through this wonderful mountain country. The many passes have also left their mark on our altitude measurement: In the 13 days of riding in Armenia, we have brought over 11`000 meters of altitude behind or under us!
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)