2021 09 Trans Georgia trail day 7
We had stayed dry under our tarp and brewed some coffee for breakfast. We got ready for take off, when the storm broke over us. Hail and rain crashed down on us and we just stood and waited for the worst to pass. As it lightend up for a moment we started climbing towards the summit 700 m above us.the temperature was just above freezing so we walked to keep warm. After 90 min we reached 3500 mum. My phone refused to work, so there is no shots of the pass. We climbed down as fast as possible, the hail on the slippery slate did not really help. We reached 3000 m and followed the trail along the left side of the mountain. For about 3hours we kept on walking and around 12 we came again to a border police station. Again our permit was checked and near by we found a guesthouse that again served coffee. We ate our lunch and drank coffee. Departing it went steep downhill for another 2 hours before we hit the gravel road to Shatili. Towards 5 pm we reached Shatili and found a guesthouse in one of their angent tower houses.
A small and big story at the side of the road. Anatori is a small village at the road shortly before Shatili. A sign describes what happened here a long time ago. You walk down a small path to 6 stone houses nestled on a cliff high above the roaring brown river. All doors and windows are locked from the inside. The houses are only 5 by 5 m but have two levels with an inside center staircase. Along the stone wall on the upper floor are beds and nothing has disturbed these beds for the last 300 years. In fact you still see the people sleeping peacefully on their beds. Except of course you see bones only through the open tiny windows. If you look closer you see more human bones just piled on the lower floor.
You wonder what's this all about.
Well in the 18th century the black plage hat struck the village and the people had decided to contain the plage by quarantine themselves inside their houses. As people died their bodies where laid down at the ground floor of the building to make room for the sick people laying on their beds.
They died proud and with dignity. Only one shepherd boy of the village survived, because he had kept his social distance by watching the villagers sheep high in the mountains.
We had stayed dry under our tarp and brewed some coffee for breakfast. We got ready for take off, when the storm broke over us. Hail and rain crashed down on us and we just stood and waited for the worst to pass. As it lightend up for a moment we started climbing towards the summit 700 m above us.the temperature was just above freezing so we walked to keep warm. After 90 min we reached 3500 mum. My phone refused to work, so there is no shots of the pass. We climbed down as fast as possible, the hail on the slippery slate did not really help. We reached 3000 m and followed the trail along the left side of the mountain. For about 3hours we kept on walking and around 12 we came again to a border police station. Again our permit was checked and near by we found a guesthouse that again served coffee. We ate our lunch and drank coffee. Departing it went steep downhill for another 2 hours before we hit the gravel road to Shatili. Towards 5 pm we reached Shatili and found a guesthouse in one of their angent tower houses.
A small and big story at the side of the road. Anatori is a small village at the road shortly before Shatili. A sign describes what happened here a long time ago. You walk down a small path to 6 stone houses nestled on a cliff high above the roaring brown river. All doors and windows are locked from the inside. The houses are only 5 by 5 m but have two levels with an inside center staircase. Along the stone wall on the upper floor are beds and nothing has disturbed these beds for the last 300 years. In fact you still see the people sleeping peacefully on their beds. Except of course you see bones only through the open tiny windows. If you look closer you see more human bones just piled on the lower floor.
You wonder what's this all about.
Well in the 18th century the black plage hat struck the village and the people had decided to contain the plage by quarantine themselves inside their houses. As people died their bodies where laid down at the ground floor of the building to make room for the sick people laying on their beds.
They died proud and with dignity. Only one shepherd boy of the village survived, because he had kept his social distance by watching the villagers sheep high in the mountains.
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