We were woken at 4 am by voices near the van and peaked out of the window to see some folk unloading their potted plants and cacti behind the car were were parked next to. So we moved and stopped 10 miles down the narrow twisting road. After waking we continued until we got caught in a hold-up which lasted perhaps two hours as the vehicles (from both directions) threaded their way through a huge herd of sheep and goats. When we finally got to the front we noticed a massive accumulation of sheep in a meadow, almost as far as the eye could see. Thousands of them. They were being collected from all the surrounding sheep farms to be lead up into the summer pastures in the mountains. Transhumance or something.
We got onto a motorway near Gori and continued at breakneck speed towards Tbilisi. By chance I noticed the turn-off to Stepantsminda and travelled a path which rose gradually though mountains which got higher on each side. Eventually we came to what in 2018 was a beautiful little farming village but has now been transformed into a hideous ski resort with the fields of colourful wild flowers and fruit-tree blossom now covered by endless apartments for the skiing people. The road peaks at 2,395 metres at the Jvari Pass where snow-covered peaks come down to the road. It then descends just as abruptly to the charming little border town of Stepantsminda. The road to the Russian border is cut into the side of a mountain and there is a deep gorge on the left hand side. After passing through the Georgian border (with no fines for anything) the road enters no-mans-land and, because no-one has responsibility, becomes rutted with enormous potholes. This is an accident blackspot, and to prove the point, hundreds of smashed cars are dumped at the side of the road.
The Russian border was a doddle with friendly passport control and customs officials until we came to the place where we have to register the vehicle to ensure that it is taken out of Russia. The girl in charge was very young, self-important and (I think) drunk, and evidently a man-hater because I first saw her screaming at some poor Georgian who hadn’t filled his forms in correctly. My smug self-satisfaction of thinking I knew how to fill in forms was brought abruptly to a stop when she scribbled through most of the form, screaming No No No.. I did them again and with much rolling of eyes and OMG OMG OMG, was given more forms. I know I’m not stupid; the form was badly phrased and the place where details should be put was either above or below a line. I had to laugh when my entry on the line asking for the vehicle chassis number was crossed out and I was ordered to put it on another line. I don’t think she could read the form and perhaps she just liked shouting at men. I should have chinned her, but that would have been the end of our trip. I heard her shout at a Frenchman that he was “glupy” (“stupid”) and when she apparently realised that he was a Frenchman of Russian origin and understood every word she thought it was funny. After three hours of filling and refilling forms just to see them torn up, her shift ended and she was replaced by a lovely girl who kept a crowd of impatient drivers waiting as she helped me complete the form. She even came with me to look at the van which was parked 200 metres away.
On getting out of the border compound I asked a policeman where to get compulsory insurance and he accompanied us to near an office. The first two offices said that they weren’t insuring Western vehicles (a portent of things to come) but eventually we found an office that would serve us and we got insurance for our last 40 dollars knocked down from the necessary 50. We then drove away from Verkhnyi Lars and stopped for the night in a lorry park.
Good luck with that