On the road in Armenia as a beginner bike packer.

By Sarkis Benliyan

September 2022

I am in Yerevan airport in the middle of the night and I am about to leave the country. Strange enough the flights leave at 3 am. Why are all flights at these awkward times I wonder? I am leaving my bike box to the bulky luggage counter with my mate Gevorg who was kind enough to bring me to the airport. Stress Subsides and I immediately feel relieved the moment I am not hauling this bulky heavy bike box around anymore. And yet at the same time, there is a feeling of sadness because my bike trip in Armenia was definitely over.

But I am leaving with happy memories of the many experiences I had visiting the country in such an intimate way. I am grateful for the experience and the encounters. I am also grateful for the gained confidence because I wasn’t too sure about the entire venture.  Finally, I am grateful for the new-found/rediscovered sense of belonging (I’ll go into that a bit later)

Confidence? you might say. Yes. The journey was something I was looking forward to a long time, unsure it would ever happen. The pandemic and the conflict with Azerbaijan made the entire venture a bit daunting. But also, I did not have any bike packing experience. Why did I jump in at the deep end of the pool? The lack of experience was an extra stress factor. I read the articles posted on bikepacking.com, and I have done various cyclo-camping trips, both solo as well with friends, but never a multi-week on- and off-road trip and never so far away. 

I planned the trip a year ahead with my employer, so I knew what was coming. And still with the unpaid leave coming closer I was increasingly getting nervous. So much so that weeks before the trip I had sleepless nights and was grinding my teeth to destruction. So much so I actually lost one molar. 

Trying to prepare myself in the best way possible I was reading other bikers experiences. In order to prepare myself, every night, I was making variations of a doable route by combining the routes of other travellers, both hikers as cyclists. In hindsight, it was not the smartest thing to do at night because the more I understood what topography was waiting for me in Armenia the more I was thinking of bailing out. And I was going solo, so nobody would be able to save me in case “something” would happen. 

Regardless of the doubts and fears, the desire to go to Armenia was too great to give up. Thank you, Logan Watts, Tom Allen, Bo and Evan for your inspirational stories and by putting this idea in my head. It took some time to manifest this Idea, but it finally happened. 

So why am I writing about this trip and sharing it with you? 

After sharing stories on Instagram people urged me to do something more with the content than just leaving with the Instagram stories which have disappeared into the ether already. 

One of these people was Stephen Fitzgerald of Rodeo labs. Stephen just completed the second scouting trip of Armenia in for the upcoming Ascend Bike packing race and when comparing our trips, it was obvious that we both had completely different experiences of the same country. He and Jay Petervary clocked serious miles, doing beautiful routes, whilst I was much slower and stopped to look around and chatted with the locals in the hinterland. 

After seeing my pictures of the locals Stephen asked me if I was willing to write about my experiences to bring Armenia in the spotlight. It is obvious he also fell in love with the place and the warmth and hospitality of the Armenian people.

We both agreed that the country and the people of Armenia, especially with the events of the last months, need some positive attention. The people who inspired me, whom I mentioned before, have travelled and written already about Armenia, but there is still so much to tell. This time from the perspective of a beginner-solo-bike-packer. If this is of any interest to you, please continue reading:

I will give it my best to share some pictures and describe some of my experiences. Mind you: all pictures were made on a cheap mobile phone. May I draw your attention to that English is not my native language, so apologies for incorrect sentence structure or ambiguities of various nature.

Learning to Bike pack: Learning by doing and doing baby steps. 

It would take 4 days to “get into the groove” as Cass Gilbert predicted what would happen in response to my panicky emails (thank you for your patience Cass). I found out that learning by doing is a real thing. And brooding about a certain subject whilst doing nothing can make one go crazy. So much so, that when I started cycling all my worries seemed to move in the background. 

I will try to describe the first four days. Of course, the remaining days were also wonderful, but I still had a lot to learn.

Day One

The first day was a blessing for me because everything fell into the right place. After leaving Meghri, my starting point, I cycled on the abandoned gravel roads. After not seeing anybody for 2 hours, suddenly a car stopped and asked me if I needed help, water or food. I thanked the fellow. He gave me his phone number and urged me to call him in case I would in trouble or in need of help, and he would pick me up.

This attention and care is somewhat strange for a western European, but it was a comforting feeling I must admit! Continuing my trip, after a couple of hours ride I arrived at Arpi lake just before dusk. Surprised by all the barbwire and cattle, I had a rather hard time looking for a suitable camping spot. The farmers did not seem to notice me. 

I was looking for alternatives on my map and it was getting late.  A big white SUV drove by, with 4 gentlemen inside. In my best Armenian I tried to explain my need for a place to pitch my tent. Shaking their head (most probably because my western Armenian sounded silly), they answered in English to avoid misunderstandings. The men, who turned out to be workers of the Arpi-Lake national park showed me to their headquarters which was at the shore of the lake. I stayed the night in one of their guest rooms. This was my lucky break because wind was picking up and it was already getting dark.  What a great ending of a fantastic first day.  

Day Two

The second day started with a beautiful ride out of the lake valley through the fields and on gravel. The general direction was the town of Stepanavan, which I was not going to reach today. I had to cross the Javakheti mountain range, this remote and little-used road was not as desolate as I thought it would be. On the peak of the pass a construction truck and a van were parked on the road. The passengers of the van and the truck driver were really surprised to see me. The 3 lads in the van stepped out we had a friendly chat. The gents asked me if I was thirsty and showed me a sweet water spring on the slope of the hill. 

They even wanted to share their food with me: “you’ll find a pan with cooked meat in the water, help yourself!” they said. I did not understand what they meant until I felt the water. It ice-cold, which allowed the shepherds to use the spring as an eco-friendly fridge. A large pot with cooked meat, meat skewers and even a decapitated goats head were stored in the stream. I, as a self-proclaimed vegetarian didn’t touch any, but little did I know this was soon to change: a veggie diet in Armenia is a difficult thing to maintain when one is trying to be a guest.  

As things went I was not reaching a town before sunset. It was getting dark quick and I decided to pitch my tent on a field far away from the road. It was my first wild camp alone in Armenia, although I had my fears at home, at that very moment I never felt uncomfortable! Was this naive or was it the endorphins of the whole day that made me delusional? 

The wide views were amazing: the changing light during dusk combined the vast distance was a sight to behold. And after a warm meal, a bit of emailing (reception is great in most of Armenia) I fell asleep quickly. My mum, the poor woman, who was aware of what I was doing, did not sleep well. 

Day Three

On the next day, during sunrise, my tent was noticed by locals on the hill, and I saw shepherds approaching with their herd. The 5 men were a bit confused and started to ask a lot of questions: “When did you set camp because we did not see you arrive? You are doing this alone? Aren’t you afraid of the bears? Why are you travelling by bicycle? But why? Why didn’t you drop by at our camp? We could have had a coffee!”. I must admit I steered away from their camp staying on a couple of kilometres’ distance because I did not know how they would react. I learned that most people appreciated contact and I would not avoid camps in the hills in the future.  These lads were a curious bunch, and they stayed the entire time whilst I was packing my stuff. 

It was the third day on the road I was increasingly feeling more at ease. I was learning not to haste, talking to farmers. Every time the same questions arose. “You are doing this all alone?” “Aren’t you lonely?” The thought of traveling alone was obviously considered strange. Also, taking the back roads was considered foolish because there were considerable climbs, bad road conditions and I had to cycle through creeks.

Yet, not taking the regular road got me to the village of Katnaghbyur where I got invited by a tattooed Gentlemen who called me from the porch of his house. “Hey there! Where are you from? You fancy a coffee?”. Certainly! Grandchildren gathered and we drank coffee and soon after a couple of vodkas. I learned that friendships are forged with vodka in Armenia. I even called my mum who did her share talking to my hosts. (Mum was a professional translator and her Armenian is fluid.) I said farewell to the lovely family and continued my trip. 

That night I stayed at a family in Stepanavan, enjoying a hearty family dinner. The host made his own potent pear vodka, the kind that could fuel jets. 

Day Four

What I didn’t know is that the fourth day would be a lesson for me. The (over)confidence I gathered the first 2 days and poor planning would throw me out of my concept. 

The route was Challenging to say the least. Stepanavan – Privolnoye – Alaverdi and after a section of tarmac required me to ascend a steep mountain section. What did I have to prove myself on this obviously challenging route).

Had I left earlier, I might have had a chance, but I left too late from my hostel, and I took my merry time getting to get to the trailhead in Privolnoye.  It was well past midday when I arrived there and the sun was at its highest point and it was a scorching hot 38 degrees Celsius. This was definitely not the best conditions to get up super steep hills.

It was so hot that a shopkeeper in Privolnoye gave me an ice-cream because she felt sorry. Some curious old lads came to talk me, asking me where I was from and why I did not take the regular route.  

As mentioned before, the route should be doable in a day, but not this late and not in these conditions. I cycled up the trail to the first ascend anyway. That’s where the confusion started because at first I took the wrong path. I pushed my bike up the steep path and my Wahoo beeped all the time that it knew was the wrong way. I ignored this because this was the way and the machine was wrong, wasn’t it?

After a steep climb, pushing my bike up a trail for half an hour, I had to accept that I made a mistake and wasted precious water and daylight time.

To make matters worse I also saw several piles of bear poop which worried me even though there were no bears to be seen. I decided to turn around and take the correct route which led to the encounter with the men in a Lada 4×4. They saw me struggling up the hill and stopped the car besides me.   

!Skhal janaparh!, the wrong way, this is too hard. Why don’t you take the road?

They really tried to talk sense into me. 

Yes. But this is what my route shows me. (Kindly supplied to me by Tom and Stephen Fitzgerald) I showed them the route on my phone. 

No-no-no, this is too hard. All three shaking their head in dismay. Skhal janaparh! We can’t even drive this route. Believe me. It’s too hard. 

And look behind you!

I was puzzled because I saw dark clouds pulling up. I did not expect a change in weather.  

Returning to where I started felt like a defeat but also relief, because I must admit I felt a bit uncertain. Was I up to the task of bike packing? The first 2 days went smooth and were a super fun adventure! Maybe I was a bit overconfident on this particularly hard route on this scorching hot day. And my planning needed improvement.  

I decided to return to Stepanavan for the night enjoying a fab meal with my hosts of the previous day and, on the following day, do a bit more docile, but beautiful, route down south.  

The rest of the trip

I had one good day after the other. Yes, I had mechanical problems and flats, but nothing too serious. The absolute highlight of the entire trip being the Geghama mountain range. 

After the day 2 fiasco, I was a little unsure if I would even do a three-day trek through a mountain range on my own. But Tom Allen, whom I met at the Dilijan Hikers Hostel, a veteran of this region and an inspiration for me to even start cycling in Armenia, asked me: what’s the worst that could happen? A cold night? Well, wear everything you have at night and eat a lot of calories for your evening meal, because you sleep better.

Wolves or bears? Very unlikely. He hasn’t seen one up close in all these years. The sheepdogs, yes, they can be scary. Do not try to cycle away, because they are fast. Get off your bike and keep your bike between the dog(s) and you and yell at them, often the shepherd will come and take them away. (it somehow worked, but next time I’m thinking about bringing ultrasound to chase them away)

Your own fear is probably the biggest problem. Stay in touch with the outside world. You still have telephone reception in the mountains, but for the most part there is no reception, be aware of that.

There are wells indicated in Ride GPS, but in case you run out of water, there are still the shepherds in the mountains who can help you. If you have a problem with your bike you can just roll down the mountain to Lake Van on one side or to Garni.

So, stop worrying and ride the route!

Nothing untoward happened and this section of the journey turned out to be the best days of my life. I have had so many beautiful moments in nature, not to mention the wonderful encounters with shepherds, hikers and my own fellow cyclists.

One noteworthy event was the afternoon of the first day when I was invited by a family of shepherds who were eating after church for their Sunday picnic on the mountain.

I had a silly question if the grassland was on fire in the distance, but it turned out to be just fog. People laughed and shook their heads: what a strange guy on a bicycle. The moment I wanted to continue cycling, one of the men grabbed my arm: come, sit, eat with us! They wouldn’t let me go and I spent 2 hours with them. The hospitality, the humour, the generosity touched my now chilled Central European heart. That afternoon was emotionally meaningful to me because I felt like eating a meal with family.

Of course, I had to eat meat, which as a vegetarian can be a problem, but in Armenia, but I just went with the flow.  “come here, please take a piece of lamb, we slaughtered it fresh this morning as an offering to god”. Also drink a glass of vodka, it will calm you down. After the first one, I immediately got another shot. Then came the questions that were the same everywhere during my trip: “Why are you traveling alone? Aren’t you married? Why not? We can find you an Armenian girl!”. Everyone laughed, because they thought I was just a strange guy with no family, no friends on the way up the mountain.

When asked why I didn’t have a car, I replied that we wouldn’t be having this conversation without a bike, and that I wouldn’t even be able to see the colour of his eyes in a car. At that moment, he understood that the bicycle made this contact possible.

6 vodkas down the line I got on my bike. The family invited me to spend the night close to their camp. But I felt the urge to move on.

The war

I spent three days in the mountains enjoying beautiful landscapes and meeting the shepherds. The high quickly ended as I regained phone reception as I drove downhill to Van Lake.

My mailbox turned out to be full of messages.

“Get out of there, it’s war!!” warned my friends.

On the way, I met 2 Belgian cyclists who told me that the south was a war zone and the roads were blocked, because Azerbaijan had invaded Armenia.

And war it was: when I arrived in Martuni, I saw the military police blocking the road and I immediately felt the tension in the air. Trucks with young people in uniform drove to the front, which was a mere 50 km away.

People told me to go back north because the situation could escalate quickly.

During the day of maintaining my bike and doing laundry in Martuni, I was reformulating my plans, it became clear that I could forget about my trip to the south to Iran. This was clearly force majeure. The only option I had was to drive sections of Ascend Armenia in the north. This was the right choice given the circumstances, but the atmosphere had changed in the country. Not that there was panic, but the atmosphere was more serious.

Via Dilijan I arrived in Debet, where I started my last 2 days’ off-road trip from Debet to Ijevan. This was again beautiful and adventurous section. 

I had also discovered in the meantime that I was a massive crack in my rear wheels’ rim. Maybe this was also a signal from my bike to call it a day and cycle back to Yerevan.

The end?

As I look through my photos and look back on the trip, I feel happy and relieved that I made the trip after all. I was so scared in the beginning, but the fear was all inside my head. Is this what happens when you grow old? I used to do weirder risky things in the past without fear of consequences. Now I am thoughtful and contemplate too much about everything. What a scaredy-cat I was. That worrying was all unnecessary in this case. Armenia is a great place visit. 

The amazingly wide landscapes, the clean air and the absolute silence. The warmth of the people in the remote areas was surprisingly beautiful and totally worth it. Not to mention the amazing rides I made with my bike! And I did it on my own!

I felt I finally belonged somewhere. As a Dutchman of western-Armenian heritage,  I felt I came ‘home’ (although my ancestors come from a completely different region) and I feel I belong to the tribe of the bike packers. I can tell you, this is a good feeling.

Of course, the story does not end here. I’m going back to Armenia next year in June to do the route through the south of the country. My plan is to visit many ancient monasteries hidden in the mountains. Also, I will visit Stephen and Tom Fitzgerald who organize Bike packing race Ascend Armenia at the finish. From what I can see, it promises to be a great race!