Karen said that August was the best time to go up to lakes,
and that in fact it was the only time to go up and see them safely, since the
rest of the year round the area is frozen solid. I’d been wanting to go up and
see them ever since he and his uncle, Retik, had told me about them early in
the summer, and when some fellow volunteers from the north told me they were
coming to visit me in August, I decided it would be great to all go together.
Karen and Retik were pretty thrilled at the prospect of
getting to take not just me, but several other Americans up to see this
beautiful place, acting as our local guides, and in the weeks leading up to my
friends’ arrival we started planning it all out. Both of the men insisted that
we’d bring khorovats (Armenian barbeque) supplies, a few horses, a possible
tractor and trailer to bring us up, and even a gun. The gun thing never panned
out and, neither of them owned a gun to begin with, but they looked for one pretty much until the last
minute before heading up, calling their friends to see if they could borrow
one. I was secretly quite okay with the fact that they didn’t end up finding
the gun.
“Sometimes…you’re up there in the wild and you run into a
wild ram or boar and you have to shoot it and eat right there. It can happen
just like that!” is roughly what Karen said to me every time I asked why
exactly we would need to bring a gun on this expedition.
Kelsey, Ashley, Trent, and Ben arrived in my village the
night before we’d be heading out. We roasted hot dogs in Meghri at my friend
Hapet’s house, which is situated near the top of the big hill that the old
neighborhood sits on, and which has a great view of the town and of the sheer
mountains in Iran right across the border. After our solid, very American meal,
we headed back to my place, made sure to get well hydrated for the
high-altitude hike tomorrow and got to bed at a decent hour. Karen had also brought goat's milk for us to drink the night before, which he said would give us an extra "boost" for the hike the next day, but which only I ended up drinking a small half-glass of.
We woke up leisurely, had breakfast and a few cups of
coffee, and around 10 I called Karen and told him to come over whenever he was
ready. I called two taxis to take us from Lehvaz, my village, to Lichk, the
mountain village where we’d be setting out from up towards the lakes. We got
our hiking packs, tents, trail food, and water all in order, and as soon as
Karen arrived we headed down to catch our taxis.
After the brief, steep climbing taxi ride up to Lichk, we
headed to meet Retik, Karen’s uncle, at his house, where it soon became
apparent that he and Karen, our guides on this expedition, were not quite as
organized as they had seemed when we discussed plans in the week prior. The
horses they had promised were apparently hard to come by, and so we were left
with only Retik’s small mare and the mare’s daughter to help bring the 7 of us
up there. The tractor/ trailer that they had been talking about was being used
by the village mayor at the time, and so was not looking like an option either.
Karen left to find more horses or ask people in the village to let us borrow
some, came back empty handed, and finally we decided to just do it on foot two
horses, one of which was still not big enough to put any weight on. We were
losing daylight and everyone seemed just fine with hiking on foot anyway,
except Ben. On the positive side, we had an massive amount of raw chicken and
other food to bring up for a khorovats when we reached our destination.
We loaded the food, grilling skewers, water, and girls packs
onto the horse and began making our way up out of the village and up some very
steep hills and tall grass toward our destination. The first part of the trip
was, unfortunately, one of the hardest , as we weren’t really walking on a path
yet and just climbing up some very steep slopes along the river. No more than
ten minutes into this, the muscles in our legs were already burning and our
lungs already working over-time. I heard Ben call me from behind, and fell back
to see what he wanted. Panting heavily and stooped over with his hands on his
knees, he told me he wasn’t going to make it.
“I’m not gonna make it man.” He said in between breaths.
“Hand me the keys to your place. I’m gonna head back to your village.”
Despite the fact that he was wearing hot-red “mountaineering
sunglasses,” (his terminology) I could see in his face that an absolute verdict
had already been reached. There was no convincing him otherwise. I tried to just as a
reflex just the same, giving him the typical words of encouragement like “c’mon
man you can do this,” but I knew in reality he wasn’t going any farther. I soon
was handing him the keys to my place, made sure he’d be alright getting back
there, and told him we’d see him the following evening when we returned.
Fortunately, Ben is one of the most adaptable people I’ve
ever known and ended up having a great time despite missing the big expedition.
After parting ways with us, he apparently headed back towards Lichk, threw up a couple of
times by the river, felt quite relieved and happy with his decision, and then went
back to Reitk’s house and had a wonderful time schmoozing his wife and
grandchildren. He then got a taxi to my village, cooked excellent meals for
himself at my house, met up
with some of the children in my village, got invited to go swimming with them,
and spent the next 24 hours catching sun, swimming in the river, reading, and doing yoga in
my living room.
I was sad to see him leave so abruptly, and so was Karen,
who offered to let Ben ride on the horse for a bit, but I told him it was no
use and that he’d be just fine. We headed onward.
The route gradually changed from steep hills and tall grass
to a semi forested trail that wound up higher and higher still. The girls, who
were showing signs of being tired, began alternating riding the horse for brief
stints, which Karen and Retik had been encouraging them to do for some time,
but they had refused to do up until now, due to the massive amount of weight
that was already on the mare’s back. Feeling tired, and seeing that she didn’t
seem to be struggling terribly with the packs and food already on her back,
they finally gave in. I was amazed at the strength of the animal and a bit
uneasy, since I had previously never seen a horse, or any animal for that
matter, carry so much weight at one time.
As we neared the end of the tree line, we decided to take a
break and then started gathering wood, as we’d soon be passing the boundary
where we could easily find it. Karen, Retik, and I began foraging for whatever
we could find. After a good 20 minutes or so, during part of which Karen
decided to lay out against a rock and chain smoke, we had managed to collect a
nice couple of bundles, and loaded them onto either side of the poor horse, who
I was now feeling increasingly sorry for as we trudged along. Now that she had
the extra weight on her, the girls decided to give her a break and walk on foot
again.
We left the trees behind us and continued to climb through
scattered boulders and tall grasses. The sight of golden, swaying tall grass
against the severe slopes in the slowly setting sun was truly, truly beautiful.
However we started to get anxious for when we’d reach our campsite for the
night and could relax. After another 40 minutes or so of hiking through this
landscape, it finally appeared. A set of narrow, rocky streams with water
cascading down them ran through two large crevices in the mountain face before
us. Beyond the one nearest to us was a swath of semi flat land, and what looked
like a make-shift stone shelter sitting in the middle of it. Karen and Retik
confirmed that this was where we’d be posting up for the night.
Before actually reaching the campsite though, we were
unpleasantly surprised by one last obstacle along the way. After crossing the
stream before us and beginning our chants of victory, we carelessly began
trudging through a patch of very tall, reddish, fleshy looking weed-like plants
that now lay in between us and the campsite. There didn’t seem to be any way
around them, and they grew densely near the stream we had crossed, so naturally
we just started walking right through them. This was a bad idea. As our hands,
arms, ankles, and legs brushed against them, we all started to notice an
itching and then burning sensation all over every inch of skin that had made
contact with them. By the time we realized what was going on, we were already
smack in the middle of giant patch of the evil plants, and had no choice but to
power through them. It stung. We hollered and cussed at the hellish plants,
whose stings lasted several minutes after we had already cleared them and made
it safely to the campsite. They had pretty effectively ruined our moment of
glory at reaching camp. Karen and Retik, who had fallen behind us a bit, wisely
skirted the patch of devil plants and made it to the campsite untroubled.
The rest of the day made it all well, well worth it. We
built ourselves a fire. Trent and I went and filled up water from the far
stream of pure, ice cold gushing water, after first satisfying our desire to
wash our faces and feet and hair in it. We set up our tent and then set about
getting dinner ready. We began khorovatsing the massive amount of chicken we
had brought, and setting up a makeshift table out of stray planks and some
large rocks. On it we set goat cheese, bread, lavash, apples, sausage, fish in
a can, corned beef in a can, homemade vodka with small dixie cup glasses, and
finally—when it was fire roasted to perfection by Karen—the khorovats. We
feasted. Karen, Retik, and even I said a few toasts, pulled down shots, and we
all began to feel more and more at eas in our campsite as the last rays of
sunlight fell behind the mountains.
 |
| Feasting |
So high up, the stars came out so numerous
and gorgeous that for a while we all together kept quiet and admired. We sat
around the fire, and gradually folks started sacking out, until only Trent,
myself, and Karen remained awake. We made coffee and conversed in a three way
conversation that often involved me as the intermediary, since my Armenian was
more fluent than Trent’s, and during which Karen continually referred to Trent
not as “Trent,” but as “Charents,” which he claimed was easier for him to say,
since it was a revered Armenian poet. Trent didn’t mind, I thought it was
hilarious, and anyways regardless of what we thought, Karen continued to call
him Charents for that night and the entire next day as well. As it got later,
Karen started to get a little more wily, or maybe we all were. Soon Karen was
reading Trent’s coffee cup, which he claimed to be quite good at, and proceeded
to go into a half hour or so fortune reading session, which I was stuck
translating, during which he referred to Trent as a powerful centaur who’s foes
know and fear him and hide away at his approach. A proud beast of a man who
despite his strength and strong willpower, needed to watch his enemies
carefully. They apparently plotted against him when he wasn’t looking. Karen
said much, much more than this, some of which I think I was translating
correctly and some of which I was sort of re-interpreting on my own just so that
I could keep up with Karen.
When the fortune reading diversion finally got tired, the
three of us sat at peace and enjoying the sacred night and the day’s
accomplishment. We headed to our tents soon after and before I knew it I was
fast asleep.
In the morning, I felt surprisingly fresh despite all the
homemade I had drank the night before. Retik and Karen were already up, making
coffee in a plastic bottle over the fire while at the same time trying not to melt
the plastic. It was a difficult looking process that was moderately successful.
That is to say, there was coffee made for anyone willing to drink out of a
warped plastic bottle. I obliged, not being one to really ever pass on coffee
in the morning.
Being as high up and removed from civilization as we were,
we were able to leave our tents and other heavy camping gear safely at the site
without worry, knowing that no harm would come to it before we came back down
later that afternoon from the lake. We ate and began hiking as quickly as
possible.
Retik and our faithful horse led the way, and continued to
do so for most of the hike that morning. We followed behind, Trent looking a
little rough but not complaining and keeping up just fine. The scenery on the
way up grew ever more stunning. We were well past the tree line, and the
landscape around us consisted of gushing streams. Fields and rocks covered in
green moss, grass, and wildflowers. We followed a deep valley upward and I grew
more and more excited to reach the top. Finally, Retik pointed to a slope and
said that once we got over it, we’d be at our destination. He’d been doing this
all morning, but this time it did actually look like a lake might be sitting
just over it, and I believed him.
Sure enough, as we bounded up over the very steep hill, a
perfect, flat plain lay before us, with a shining blue body of water in front
of us, partially obscured by a large rockface and countless other odd-shaped
boulders placed at random around the plain. Karen, who had taken the horse on
ahead of us to get lunch ready, was already there with hot coals burning in
front of him and raw khorovats meat ready to be skewered. Trent and I rushed
toward the lake, and told each other that we’d have to go for a swim. As we
approached it, I was shocked by the deep, clear blue-green color that the water
held. We dipped our feet in, and immediately took back our intentions of
swimming. While it felt refreshing, neither of us could keep our foot in for
more than a few seconds at a time. It felt colder than if it were a basin
filled simply with ice.
The field in front of the lake was truly gorgeous, and a
perfect site to relax and feel at peace. Large, smooth boulders were placed
intermittently about the flat, almost mossy plain, as if dropped from the
heavens at random. Nudged into one of the crevices of the larger boulders was
an empty glass bottle that had undoubtedly been used before and had likely
contained homemade. Sitting next to it were a couple shot glasses as well.
Whoever had drank from it before had apparently wanted others to imbibe from it
as well.
Fortunately, we had our own, full bottle of
homemade to drink from in celebration, as well as all the chicken khorovats,
cheese, lavash, and apples that we could eat. Retik and I were the only ones that
had a celebratory toast – even Karen was tapped out – but everyone enjoyed the
food and scenery thoroughly. Retik was sort of giddy, and began telling stories
from his past and also Armenian anecdotes. I was having one of those moments
that often comes with new language acquisition where a long joke is told to me,
I don’t laugh, and I can’t tell if it’s because I misunderstood some key punch
line or simply because it’s just a bad joke. I should also mention that I'm bad at understanding long jokes in English as it is. I listened to 3 or 4 of these from
Retik, while Karen was riding the horse up and down the slopes around us and
the rest of the group were laying out for a nap. Retik started telling me about
his days working for the copper mine in Agarak, on the Iranian border. He said
the work had destroyed his health, that he had been sickly and depressed and
worn-out, until he finally quit and moved to the mountain village of Lichk,
where he got healthy again. After listening to his stories, I finally laid down
under the partial shade of a boulder next to Kelsey. Trent and Ashley
had already found spots to lay out in, scattered across the field at random. Karen had retired from the horse riding and lain down as well. And after losing his last remaining listener, Retik followed suit as well. We
all passed out, forgetting about time and about the world below us.
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| The destination |
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| Karen and I |
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| Long way back down |
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