The clock was ticking again as we arrived in Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan and the port where the infamous ferry departs for Turkmenbashi, across the Caspian Sea to the country of Turkmenistan. We had gotten a letter instead of a visa in Istanbul. With this letter we were to go to the Embassy of Turkmenistan in Baku. We had a vague idea of about where this embassy was supposed to be, but no one really seemed to know for sure. After finding a safe parking place on one of the main streets near the alleged location, we spent an hour wandering through alleys before finally finding the correct address. No sign, no flags, just an address, and of course it was closed for lunch. We waited along with others at the back entrance.

By sheer chance, we struck up a conversation with Intigam Ismayilov (Volcano Travel, i.ismayilov@volcanotravel.az), a gentleman who seemed to know his way around visas. He was able to speak to the guard and get us into the waiting room where we waited, and waited. Finally, with his help, we were able to get into the office of the person in charge of visas. Inspecting our letter, he made several long phone calls and we finally got our five-day Transit Visa that we had requested.

We found safe parking near the Europa Hotel that was in the general vicinity of the address we had for the Turkmenistan Embassy.

According to the ferry schedule, (joke), it was to leave the following day. Not a lot of time for sightseeing. We rushed to the port area and after a couple of U-turns, we found the terminal, and then the other terminal where the Row-Row ferry docks. Of course, it had not arrived yet, and no one seemed to know where it was.

We had heard all the funny stories about this ferry, that it was a rust bucket and always late. Some wondered why it hadn’t sunk already. After entering the gated compound, we were told where to park and we found the Customs Office. It was closed. We were a bit concerned that the ferry had not arrived yet. We knew that once it departed it would take about 14 hours to get to Turkmenistan. We gauged our five-day transit visa on the probability, (joke), that the ferry would leave on time. The distance on miserable roads from the entry point at Turkmenbashi via Ashgabat to the border of Uzbekistan was 733 miles. At a reported speed of 35 mph due to road conditions, five days sounded possible with a stop at the “Door to Hell”. “Good Luck”!!

“AZERBAIJAN BORDER—GOOD LUCK” read the sign as we rolled slowly towards the big entry gate. The name Azerbaijan has a magical mystery sound to it. We’re familiar with country names like Italy, Spain, Turkey, even Georgia, the country we were just leaving. They all sound familiar, but Azerbaijan? Where is it? Situated at the crossroads of Southwest Asia and Southeastern Europe, it is bound by the Caspian Sea to the east, Russia to the north, Georgia to the northwest, Armenia to the west and Iran to the south, in a geographical region called “Transcaucasia” or “South Caucasus”.

Kids always loved pins and we had a good supply of Simple Green lapel pins with the Simple Green mascot, a green alligator, holding an American flag.

After numerous earlier attempts, the country declared independence from the collapsing Soviet Union on Aug. 30, 1991. Today it is a member state of the Council of Europe, the OSCE and the NATO Partnership for Peace. Its president, Ilham Aliyev, has served since taking over from his popular father in 2003. While the majority of the population is Shiite Muslim, the Constitution of Azerbaijan does not declare an official religion and all major political forces in the country are secularist, which, among other things, gives Azerbaijan the right to be free from religious ruling and teaching, an interesting freedom for a country with over 99% literacy.

We had actually hoped to visit the country of Armenia before that, but were advised that it might be difficult to enter Azerbaijan with an Armenian stamp in our passport due to an ongoing land dispute between the two countries.

Entering Azerbaijan was relatively straightforward. It felt like most of the insane drivers were left at the Georgian border. Traffic was light and often included cows, pigs, sheep, horses and pedestrians. Houses were what we might have expected from a Third World Ex-Soviet satellite. Homes were simple brick-and-mortar. Those near the main highway all had natural gas, and as we had seen in Georgia, all the gas lines run above ground in front of the homes.

It was late afternoon and we hadn’t found any great places to stop for the night. A dirt road ran off into farmlands and after a quarter of a mile we saw a dirt driveway going to a brick home. Just as we came to it a Lada Niva was exiting, so we flagged it down and asked the driver if he would mind if we parked just off the main dirt road. As if we had been in Russia again, with their overwhelming hospitality, he smiled and motioned that we should park up by his house. We did, and soon we were inside meeting his family, drinking tea and being invited for dinner, which eventually turned into an interesting party with at least one bottle of vodka being passed around. (Remember, this is a Moslem country.)

Our host was very proud of his relatively new home. We did notice, with a smile, the standard Soviet-style washbasin outside, controlled with a push-up valve in the bottom of the water tank. It’s actually quite an ingenious system. His wife was a wonderful lady with a warm smile who never blinked when he said “Honey, we have company for dinner.” Unfortunately, she did not join us at the table (which is most likely their custom), but Monika quickly made friends with her and the children. We came supplied with an assortment of balloons and little pins from Simple Green with an alligator, (their mascot), and an American flag. Kids in all these countries love pins and balloons.

We knew we would find people like them throughout Azerbaijan, but unfortunately we were forced into a march route to the capital, Baku, and the port where we hoped to catch an unreliable ferry across the Caspian Sea. Taking the ferry would eliminate the problems of driving around the Caspian through Iran, which necessitates among other things, a Carnet du Passage (basically a passport for your car which requires a large amount of cash deposit) for the vehicle.

Back on the highway, we followed a fertile valley along the Kura River that drains into the Caspian Sea. We couldn’t resists stopping at roadside fruit and vegetable stands, not knowing what we might find in Baku. Being mostly mountainous, Azerbaijan has less than 23% of arable land, so they must use it wisely for wheat and animal feed. Like Russia, almost everyone has a vegetable and potato patch.

We had been warned that the ferry was a rust bucket and always late, and we had to allow time to go to the Turkmenistan Embassy in Baku to try and get our visa for that country. Like the sign said, “Good Luck”!!

If you pick up a handful of dirt in Los Angeles or a handful in Istanbul, it’s the same stuff. Part of what makes travel fascinating for us is the people and their lives in the unique countries they live in. But there is something else interesting about these individuals, whether adults or children, regardless of religion or politics. Let me tell you a quick story:

At our first camp in Georgia, these kids paid us a visit. They were very curious yet polite and rather shy.

It was 1995 and we were sitting in the living room of a Russian friend in the suburbs of Moscow. Marc Podolsky had been on the Russian Camel Trophy team, an international rally that I covered for U.S. magazines. We were talking about our plans to drive across Siberia and the former Soviet Union alone, ocean-to-ocean. There were fears of fuel and food shortages, impassible roads, bandits, and mafia. If there was a road, however bad, we were confident that The Turtle IV could handle it. It was the danger from people we could not control.

In the midst of this conversation about unknown problems and dangers, suddenly Marc’s father-in-law looked at me and put his hand on his wrist. “Feel your pulse”, he said. Marc translated. I did. He then moved his hand to his neck. “Feel your pulse.” he said again, so I did. Then he placed his hand to his heart and spoke quietly, as his eyes met mine, he said, “Our hearts beat the same.” What a powerful statement!

This sheepskin hat would have been perfect for skiing in Park City, the only one on the slopes but Monika didn’t like the sheepy smell.

Monika and I looked at each other and knew instantly that we could travel across Russia alone and be safe.

What you will notice about the people below from the country of Georgia is that their hearts beat the same as yours and ours.

The people we meet in the poorer Third World countries are worried about their children, their animals, their crops, their friends and relatives, putting food on the table, having a roof over their heads — most of the stuff that everyone in the World thinks about to some degree. If you treat 99.9% of all those people with a smile and respect, it will come back to you tenfold.

Years ago when we traveled in Mexico, we used to laugh at people coming south with their motorhomes or campers full of canned food, on the assumption that people in Mexico didn’t have anything to eat. Now, as we travel through some of the most remote countries in the world, some may wonder how do we survive? What’s for dinner?

You may see some interesting answers in the photos below as we traveled through the country of Georgia. There may be twenty ladies selling tomatoes, onions, beets, peppers, cabbage and more than you can imagine. The question is, who has the best? What does the cheese taste like? Can we taste? Of course!! Is it “moo”, (cow) or “baa”, (goat)? Is that meat pig “oink-oink”, or moo? Seriously, the biggest problem of finding food in these countries is limiting our selection to what we can use in the next few days, because little roadside stands are often selling the same as we drive along.

When we’re home in California, people ask how we cook on the road. The answer is, exactly the same as we do here, except often the selection of food is better and fresher that your local supermarket.

Our friend Tom Hughey back in California loves to read about our experiences, the people and the interesting places we visit but being a practical kind of guy, he was wondering, about the local infrastructure, so we started photographing items of different nature. Much of Georgia’s economy reminded us of what we had seen in Russia in 1996, so for us, it was not new. Gary already mentioned the above ground gas lines in Sighnaghi (blog Georgia 4). Here is a collection of few other things you might find interesting. 

Unfortunately, our time in Georgia was cut short. China was calling. The exact entry date was set, August 28, 2014, and we still had to travel thousands of miles through five other countries. Someday, we hope to return to Georgia to explore the rest of the country and get to meet more of its friendly people.

While visiting the Numisi Winery in Velistsikhe, Misha, the Russian husband of Nunu, invited us to tag along to visit their farm where he wanted to pick up some fresh milk. We learned that the whole Kakheti Valley has hundreds of Artesian wells. There was only one on their land. Unfortunately, the water had a very bitter taste and to our amazement, it was flammable. Only the cows drank it. We walked around admiring the cows and the tractors. A young Azerbaijani family was taking care of the farm. Nunu had whispered into Monika’s ear that they were Moslem “but” that they were very nice and honest. (Remember, Georgia is a Christian nation!) They lived an extremely humble existence. It rather looked like they were camping out. The young mother was preparing dinner on a discarded plow disk while her husband was milking the cows. Both were very gracious and didn’t mind us taking pictures.

Happy Thanksgiving!

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep you are richer than 75% of the world. If you have money in the bank, your wallet, and some spare change you are among the top 8% of the words’s wealthy. If you woke up this morning with more health than illness you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive this week. If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the agony of imprisonment or torture, or the horrible pangs of starvation you are luckier than 500 million people alive and suffering. If you can read this message you are more fortunate than 3 billion people in the world who cannot read it at all.

Aren’t we lucky?

Gary and Monika

We had been looking forward to Georgian wines since we had our last sip of Italian Nero d’Avila. To our disappointment, most of the stores in Georgia stocked plenty of beer, vodka and juices, but rarely more than a few wines. Much of the table wine we found in the country was either homemade or produced by wineries and sold in 5-liter plastic containers. It was invariably on the sweet side. This was not Napa Valley, where there is a winery every couple of miles advertising their wine-tasting rooms, tours and picknick facilities. If these exist at all in the Kakheti wine country valley, they are set up for tour buses, not individuals.

The old wine cellar at the Numisi Winery still had the original amphorae buried in the floor where wine is traditionally aged in Georgia.

At length, we did find two wineries that were very interesting. The Numisi winery in Velistsikhe was located on a dirt side road with no signs outside of any kind. It had an interesting museum of antique wine making equipment. The old winery itself still had the huge amphorae called qvervri buried in the ground where wine was traditionally aged. For $10 each they offered a tour of the museum and a generous sample of their red, rosé and white wines, plus a dangerous chacha brandy, (grappa style), also called “vine vodka” or “grape vodka”, distilled from the seeds and stems. All was accompanied by fresh cheese and bread.

Nunu, the owner of the Numisi Winery gave us the full tour on a personal level.

We learned that they are apparently known for their Saperavi wine made from an indigenous red grape. Saperavi is Georgia’s most widely planted red wine grape, and is often blended with other grape varieties. The owner, Nunu, a delightful lady herself, gave us the tour and let us peek into the cellar where 10–year old cognac was aging in barrels. Quite content that we had discovered Georgian wine, we camped right in front of the winery that night.

The second winery we visited with the help of the informative Tourist Information Office in Telavi was the Twins Old Cellar Winery. Obviously set up for tour buses, we would have never found it on our own. They had a fabulous museum and exhibits of how their traditional wines were made. Even then, their best dry red they called “The Black One” because of its incredibly dark color, was sold in beautiful ceramic 1-liter bottles, ($25) or a 5-liter plastic jugs, ($35), an unfortunate choice since this type of wine deteriorates quickly once exposed to air.

These strange looking boards have flint or shale embedded in them. They were used to drag over a plowed field to break up dirt clots. We’ve seen similar version before in Spain and Turkey.

We were fortunate to see the next generation of giant amphorae being prepared and buried in the ground for the unique aging process. Once the special clay amphorae (urns) are fired and aged, they are treated with a lime type cement on the outside and then again heated with fire on the inside. A coat of liquid bees’ wax permanently seals the surface. Buried in the ground, the year’s vintage is sealed and stored for at least one year. These amphorae are cleaned and re-used for generations.

We were told that Russia has banned the importation of Georgian wines, mostly sweet, and wineries are now adapting to more modern vinting processes to produce the dry wines preferred by the European and US markets, but we found few examples that were both good and affordable.

Driving through the Kakheti Valley, we could have been in the Napa, Sonoma or any other valley in California, but clearly, the way to explore the wines of Georgia is with a private guide or by tour bus.

Crawling up a 14% grade to the Ikalto Monastery we found a comfortable flat parking area overlooking the upper Kakheti valley, famous for its Georgian wines. Visiting the church and its grounds, it appeared that wine production had been important from a very early time.

After closer inspection we realized that these underground amphorae used to store wine.

The Ikalto monastery near Telavi was founded in the 6th century. It was known as one of the most important cultural-scholastic centers of Georgia. In the 12th century, the Academy of Ikalto trained its students in theology, rhetoric, astronomy, philosophy, geography, geometry, and chanting but also taught more practical skills like pottery making, metal work, pharmacology, viticulture and wine making. In 1616, Persian invaders set the Ikalto Academy on fire and it ceased to exit.

This little doll was strolling in the Ikalto mission garden. Monika exchanged a photo for a balloon.

Today, there is an effort to save the ancient church and some stabilization and restoration have taken place but lacking funds still threaten the structure.

We took advantage of a sunny day and did a full maintenance service on The Turtle V, including changing the Amsoil dual by-pass oil filters. One of the unique features of The Turtle V is its built-in 12-gallon oil reservoir. Finding quality oil in developing countries can be a problem.

The sky opened up in time for a pretty sunset at the Point Arena lighthouse.

You may recall that Monika loves birthdays and wants to remember every one of them. She does some strange things like climbing Yosemite’s Half Dome, jumping out of an airplane at 18,000 feet, spending two weeks exploring Cuba or riding a camel in the Altai Gobi Desert in Mongolia. This year she took another adventure off her birthday–bucket list; to stay in a lighthouse. Well in this case not actually in the lighthouse but in the lighthouse keeper’s apartment. With a full kitchen and a cozy fireplace we thought we’d have some great dinners, climb the lighthouse by moonlight and go for a walk. Then the weather changed.

Along the Point Arena-Stornetta hiking trail, we watched the angry waves crashing into the coast line.

The rain came sideways off the ocean, stinging our faces like little pieces of ice. Our North Face Gore-Tex jackets flapped frantically as another 60-mile-an-hour gust nearly pushed us off the trail we were walking alongside the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean. Twenty-foot monster waves rolled in and built over the submerged rocks, crested in plumes of spray, built again and crashed violently into the helpless escarpments just below us. The water rushed back out to sea, forcing itself into the next set of breakers. What were we doing here in this gale was a question that came to mind, but of course, it was Monika’s birthday.

The horizon of the angry Pacific was shrouded in dense fog. There is actually a huge reef just offshore only 6 feet under the water. Literally hundreds of ships had been trapped and demolished on these rocks. Any survivors, if they could even swim, had little chance of reaching the shore and scaling the vertical cliffs.

Point Arena Lighthouse, CA

The Point Arena Lighthouse, originally built in 1870 out of necessity and rebuilt after the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, happens to be the tallest on the West Coast of California that is still open to the public (115 ft/41 m). The view from the top was inspiring, even as we watched the storm moving in. The excellent museum next to the lighthouse documents some of the amazing history.

Our picturesque hike along the coast through the Point Arena-Stornetta Unit of the California Coastal National Monument was only 4.5 miles from the lighthouse to the town of Point Arena where we could take refuge out of the wind and rain for a cup of coffee. We could see that the torment was not letting up and the rain was increasing. Our Extreme Gore-Tex North Face jackets and pants were no match, but fortunately, even with the wind, it was a warm Pacific rain. Little creeks we had hopped across on our away to Point Arena were now flooded and muddy trails descending into the ravines were treacherous. By the time we got back to our warm cabin we were completely wet. A note stuck on the door explained that due to the power outage, the moonlight tour of the lighthouse had been canceled.

No power? No problem. We enjoyed a romantic candle light dinner starting with fresh oysters.

The sky opened just in time for a beautiful sunset. We stood outside with the other guests and found out two of them were also celebrating their birthday! Must be a Libra thing. Still without power, we dined in romantic candlelight on fresh oysters for appetizers, followed by a delicious French cut rack of lamb, a baked potato and vegetables, accompanied with a good bottle of Zinfandel, and a sumptuous chocolate birthday cake, all the while sitting in front of a cozy warm fireplace. It was the perfect meal to end another memorable birthday!