As planned, I left Zugdidi very late and headed for Poti, the other harbour at the Black Sea. The ride was rather cool, as the tree-lined road provided a lot of shade.
I studied the map…how could I kill more time until I could embark on the ferry at midnight? I could have some lunch with a view. There was also a botanical garden to the north of Batumi, worth a visit. So I made my plans to go to a fish restaurant in Kobuleti. I was genuinely surprised how big this coastal town was, lots of resorts and restaurants. I arrived at the restaurant that was at the quiet end of the town, a bit hidden, but with a nice view from a shady terrace overlooking the beach. I stayed longer than I had planned, the view and the nice breeze were tempting me to stay longer. I had a nicely grilled sea bass from the grill. I was studying the background and entry points of the botanical garden. The Batumi Botanical Garden is a 108-hectare botanical garden located north of Batumi. Situated on the Black Sea coast at the area known as Mtsvane Kontskhi (“The Green Cape”), it is among the largest botanical gardens in the former Soviet Union and a major center for the study and conservation of subtropical flora. The garden contains thousands of plant species from diverse climatic and geographic zones, arranged into thematic collections, and serves as both a scientific research institution and a popular tourist attraction.
It offers panoramic sea views, walking trails, and seasonal exhibitions, attracting visitors from Georgia and abroad throughout the year. So this sounded like a must-see. I rode to one of the gates and parked the bike there. As often, the entrance fee for foreigners was much higher than for locals. It was hot now and I attached the jacket to the bike, walking in the pants and the boots. The garden is very large, you could spend a whole day there; it should rather be called a ‘botanical forest’, because there not so much flowers or small plants, but a large number of exotic and tropical trees that flourish in this warm, humid climate on this cliff. I was walking downhill to the centre of the garden, realising that I’d have to climb back again.
I walked slowly, reducing the sweating rate. I’d loved to stay longer, but in this gear and the closing time looming, I returned to the gate after 1.5 hours. This was well worth it, a place of tranquility.
I still had some hours on my hands, let’s go to Batumi. On the way there, I could see that the ferry boat was already in the harbour, good. After having read some articles about the food on board, I managed to buy some dry sausage, Bread, water and cheese to be prepared for the worst. I was surprised by the glitz of the city, not as posh as Baku, but way more than Tiblisi. I wanted to see the beach and found it made of flat grey stones.
When I was just taking pictures and reflecting where I would find something for dinner, an e-mail from the ferry company reached me at 20:30. I could go to the port already. Wow, that came unexpected. I rode to the pier and entered the area, showing passport, bike registration and driving license. Then the same after 50 m. There were not really any facilities, this was done on the road. Then I got stuck after some trucks until I decided to filter my way forward. This worked, but before entering the ship, I had to show everything again. AND my bike insurance. While exiting the country. Never mind the hassle and be one of the first to enter the boat.
I parked the bike and took the elevator to the reception. I received the key to my Junior Suite and tried to enter the cabin. However, it was already occupied! The occupant and I were equally baffled. There must have been a mistake. He probably had seen me on the bike and asked me if I was from Belgium. After my answer we started to babbel in Flemish. The receptionist was very sorry (after using the translation app), she had given me the key for the wrong cabin. In the correct one, I was happy about the space and the large bed, the extra charge was worth it. The bathroom was less charming though: pretty old and filthy, the leaking toilet wasn‘t very attractive either.
I had some snack from my supermarket stash and was glad I brought a lot of mineral water with me. I soon went to bed, ignoring some calls in Russian? Ukrainian? talking about passports. Probably they were looking for a specific guest. Finally I fell asleep after a hot and tiring day (the long walk in the botanical garden!).
At 2:30, somebody was knocking at the door. What? The receptionist said something about passport and bar so I fetched my document and trotted to the said room. There, some tourists were waiting in front of some seated police with laptops and cameras. I overheard them asking for vehicle papers and driving licences (again!!!) so I went back to my cabin and came back with the whole document package. I stood there in waiting, smirking as I could not famthom the whole scene, it just was too surreal. The boat could not öeave because we still had to do this procesure ON THE BOAT? Lots of room for efficiency gains here.
When it was my turn, I made a big effort not to give any sarcastic answers. The policewoman did not appear to take a joke lightly. Later, I heard somebody telling that she answered to a complaint with’if you don’t like this, what are you doing in Georgia?‘ Charming. Finally I could go back to my room.
The next morning I was greeted with an announcement that breakfast was ready. These were the only announcements also in English. I was assigned a table for the rest of the trip. There was a motorbiking couple from Croatia, the Flemish guy from Antwerp and a German couple who returned from a 6 month trip through ‚the Stans‘ (central Asia) in their pick-up caravan. We were genuinly surprised by the quality of the food during the trip, it was traditional, but freshly cooked, simple but tasty. Reports in Internet had told horror stories that‘s why I had some food now that I didn‘t need.
After breakfast, I chatted with the German couple in the bar, the only accessible public space, about our trips. We were flabbergasted watching the Ukrainian? Bulgarian? truckers downing one brandy bottle after another. Long before noon. Impressive.
Time flew by and soon it was time for lunch. After that, I tried a little siesta, much needed after the short night before. And then it was time for dinner again.
I spent the evening in the bar, discovering the lower end Ararat brandy (the other end was in by panniers). Despite the large quantity of one shot (50 ml), I had four of them during the evening, but no issues the next day.
I was chatting with the Portuguese rider I met in the mountains. His name is João and when we discovered that we both speak Spanish pretty well, we switched and had a more lively conversation. We exchanged a lot of stories, e.g. I told him about my LD rallies and he shared his past as a rally co-pilot until a off-road crash with another motorbiker smashed his hand to bits. And yet, he managed to recover to do motorbike trips to the Caucasus, chapeau! It was fun to share stories and the evening went by quickly until the bar closed. The night‘s sleep was uninterrupted this time.
The next day followed the same pattern. At the table, we also shared our stories and we learned that the guy from Antwerp bought a very cheap Maserati in Georgia and planned to drive it six months in Europe with a Georgian registration. Hmmmm. What could possibly go wrong?
After dinner, I sat down with Hans-Jörg and Angela, the German couple, and what followed was one of the most fascinating stories I ever heard on my trips. I had noticed that despite their residence in Western Germany, they had a slight accent from or around Berlin. So it didn‘t come as a surprise that they had grown up in the GDR before the wall came down. They told of their discontent and rebellion against the Communist system with its surveillance system and repression. When it was clear that they could not exit the country in a legal way, they planned their escape meticulously and with a high risk. They managed to enter a ship in a truck prepared for export and only made it barely to West Germany. Their story resembled a political thriller and when I told them that it could be a movie script, they replied that many people told them so. What a story!
The next morning followed the same pattern. Initially, we were supposed to arrive at 9 a.m. in Varna, Bulgaria. However, due to the late departure, we would only arrive in the afternoon. In the morning, I was talking about motorbiking trips and events until, surprisingly, we were called for another lunch that was not expected. At 1 p.m. we left the cabins and sat down in the reception area. Some Bulgarian policemen came on board…and left again after a while. Confusion. There was a total lack of information. 2 p.m. 3 p.m. Confusion. In the end, we started to descend to the car deck and everybody prepared their vehicles. Some goodbyes and some waiting later we could finally leave the boat…and get stuck in the queue at the small border control facility. After all, this was not a proper harbour, but a remote landing site.
The border and customs control only moved forward when the motorbikers were called to the front what sped up things. Still, the formalities and the luggage controls took a while, but finally I was in Bulgaria at 5:30 p.m.and the ‘exotic’/’oriental’/’caucasian’ part of the trip had come to an end. I had been permanently adapting my plans for the day. Initially, I had planned to ride some 450 km to the capital Sofia….then Plovdiv…then Stara Sagora….but when even this was too far away, I had to make a choice. Either to ride back in the wrong direction and stay at the coast or try to do some more kilometers and try to ride a bit to the west. In the end I chose to ride another hour and to stay in the city of Schumen.
But this is another story for another post that sums up the final part of the whole trip. Stay tuned.
Hutzlmandl On Tour 
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