Hike up to the lakes - Զբոսանք դեպի լճերը

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. 

The destination

Karen and I

Long way back down