Like Peregrine Roam

On a chilly mid-autumn morning, I boarded a marshrutka in Yerevan bound for Akhaltsike, Georgia. This seemed like the most efficient and logical route to re-enter Turkey from the eastern frontier. The initial journey in the shared taxi crossing into Georgia again proved uneventful. The cooling weather and monotony of the trailing landscape once again lulls me to a languid stupor — I’m sure I drifted in and out of sleep several times. However, as the geo-politics of the border between Armenia and Turkey is quite convoluted, this circuitous route destined for Kars seemed the only option.

Once having arrived in Akhaltsike, I had absolutely no previous plan how to navigate the border crossing. As the weather was dipping at these higher altitudes, I was pressed for time in an attempt to reach Kars before dark; after all, the road conditions in the high Anatolian steppes are not going to improve. Having had no food the entire day, and opting to skip a rest stop, I flagged a taxi for the 20km ride to the Turkish border. The snowy and frosted landscape presented a very stark dreary atmosphere; indeed, life in this border region is patently harsh. It presents to mind what the Soviet frontiers must have been like years ago — in fact, what little signage was only in Russian and not Georgian. In the the somber, black and white landscape of brick houses and stacked hay cleared nearing the border. The road crossing the border was merely a snowy and wet mud trail, filled with potholes.

On the Turkish side, I had zero options for transport other than being old there was a bus coming from Georgia bound for Ardahan. The initial 20 minute wait turned out to be 1.5 hours, but, at least I amused myself watching a dog nurse her fresh litter or pups in the freezing cold under the tree of a guard station. In time, the bus returned from Georgia. The few passengers aboard re-embarked after their passport checks… I too joined them for the 80km ride to Ardahan across the Anatolian high steppes.

This region is considered to have the harshest weather in all of Turkey — winter temperatures often dip into the -40C. The majority of the steppes are above 2000m and glazed in white frosted ice and snow. Considering the dangerous roads and driver negligence in both Georgia and Armenia, I was none too keen to traverse in such road conditions where the vast planes and rolling hills are blanketed with sleet and snow. Notwithstanding, the scenery is, no doubt, beautiful…there is almost a magical peacefulness to the desolation. As with always, the most beautiful scenery under snow flurries makes for impossible photography on a bumpy bus.

I stayed no more than 2 minutes in Ardahan as the next bus bound for Kars was leaving immediately. The minibus bound for Kars had a capacity of about 18, with only 12 passengers aboard, perhaps. As soon as the journey got under way, weather conditions deteriorated again, with packed snow covering the road and medium fog thickening with the distance covered. This does not lend to alleviate my nerves considering the last few journeys in taxis and marshrutkas. Thankfully, this driver was much more conservative and defensive. He slowed considerably to a safe speed; despite obviously compromising our arrival time, I was much relieved. He actually pulled over on the shoulder when spotting an accident some 200 meters in the distance (another collision, and a sedan had veered off the road to a shallow ravine). Surprisingly, the driver rushed out in the bitter cold to place chains on the wheels…definitely a first in these parts.

We eventually arrived in Kars in the dark without incident. it was only about 5pm, but already completely dark due to the timezone difference. No travelers seem to venture to these parts — especially this time of year — and I was left to crude notes to find lodging. The city is not much to speak of, just a town surrounded by barren, frozen hills. The air smelt off burnt firewood, trash, and exhaust gas. Most people left on the streets go about their busy way without paying me much bother. Eventually, I stumble on a dive “hotel” with a reception who didn’t speak any English. He dials a translator who informs me that there is no heat or hot water, but I would be provided an extra blanket. Well, no good this does me considering it is -2 degrees. The translator discretely tells me to go off speaker-phone, and proceeds to inform me of a cheap hotel 200 meters down the with heat and hot water. All I need do is consider his plan to drive me to Ani tomorrow. The weather looked miserable so I agreed with a caveat that I’d go if the weather was permitting.

After obtaining cash and checking in, I stumbled in the frozen darkness to get some food (I forget what) and turned in the warm covers for sleep.