After scanning through our pictures from our Svaneti trip once more, we realized that we still had a ton we wanted to show off. Hence, one more blog post, lots more pictures and a few more stories from our trip.
Our last full day in Mestia, August 2, broke once again with a brilliantly beautiful morning. We woke early to try our hand (and our legs) at one more long hike--this time scrambling up the mountain that hugs Mestia to an overlook point at the foot of a giant iron cross before following the ridge up another several hundred meters to a cluster of mountain lakes and views of the big giants from the Caucasus all around.
Just a fraction of the way up
One of the many beautiful mountain wildflowers
We set out just before 8am, making our way slowly and steadily uphill. We had our moments where we couldn't tell if we were on the intended hiking path or just a cow path, blazed by an intrepid bovine hiker. Soon enough, though, we found our desired red-and-white trail blaze and continued up. There were beautiful flowers all around and not a soul to be seen (except for the cows that kept one-upping us with their feats of climbing).
The start of the trail was steep--we climbed up a kilometer over the first 2.5 kilometers. Around noon, we made it to the crest of the first big hill, the overlook by the iron cross. We also ran into a few sets of other hikers who had come up the hill from the other side, our intended route of descent. (These fellow hikers were an interesting bunch. We had some nice conversations with the pair of Czech tourists, met two Poles with whom we jointly cursed the two Dutch girls who got a jeep ride to the top and were skipping happily down past us telling us that the top was only 20 minutes away, and listened to the exhausted panting of the Japanese man who had walked his mountain bike up the mountain upon finding it too steep to actually ride up.)
More flowers
Hiking trail or cow path?
The start of the trail was steep--we climbed up a kilometer over the first 2.5 kilometers. Around noon, we made it to the crest of the first big hill, the overlook by the iron cross. We also ran into a few sets of other hikers who had come up the hill from the other side, our intended route of descent. (These fellow hikers were an interesting bunch. We had some nice conversations with the pair of Czech tourists, met two Poles with whom we jointly cursed the two Dutch girls who got a jeep ride to the top and were skipping happily down past us telling us that the top was only 20 minutes away, and listened to the exhausted panting of the Japanese man who had walked his mountain bike up the mountain upon finding it too steep to actually ride up.)
You can vaguely see the iron cross at the edge of the green hill; we came up from the right-hand side, then went back down along the visible jeep track on the left
The views all around were, as was to be expected in Svaneti at this point, absolutely breathtaking and striking. Every direction, every view, everywhere we looked was like a scene for a movie poster or advertisement. We made it up to the mountain lakes (by August, a little smaller and less impressive, maybe, than the hiking tour book made them out to be) and had a picnic, watched over by the towering mountain peaks and a group of grazing horses. We stretched our legs once more and headed back down the mountain, grateful that the clouds had started to fill the sky and keep the strong high-altitude sun off our shoulders for the way down.
And more pretty flowers!
One of about a dozen or so mountain lakes
Baby horse, making us look bad as we pant and puff our way to the top of the mountain
We made it back to our guest house almost exactly 9 hours after we set out. We attacked our dinner with gusto and rested a bit before taking one more evening stroll around Mestia on this our last day in town. It was a good day, one where we went to bed feeling absolutely worn out and grateful for the chance to fall asleep. Our three days in Svaneti were fantastic and just the perfect way, we thought, to celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary.
No comments:
Post a Comment