Diary Entry
We think we’ve seen enough of Lahich (Lahฤฑc), and the weather doesn’t look promising. A hike with alpine views isn’t really an option either. It’s just wet, and the clouds are hanging so low that we can’t see anything of the high peaks around us.
Since we want to go to Sheki (ลษki) next, we’re taking a different road than the one we came on. However, the tourist guides only warn against the road we’re planning to take there, and not the one that already seemed treacherous to us coming from Shamaki (ลamaxฤฑ).
Using a translation app and a few words of Russian, we ask the local people if the road is clear, or if we should expect dangers from rain, landslides, avalanches, or broken roads.
But everyone just laughs and signals that everything is fine. Even people here are already using ChatGPT for translation โ amazing!
Well then, let’s go!
Just a few bends past Lahich, the road becomes wild. Steep slopes separate the road from the mountains, while on the other side it drops off sharply.
The path is just begging for landslides and rockfalls.
Since it has rained a lot in the last few days, I regard the slopes with skepticism and remain vigilant. We don’t encounter any other cars.
It’s slippery. The rain is scouring the ground. At least the road is very wide.
The colors of the trees are beautiful. How magnificent it must look here when the sun shines! I got a glimpse of that on my trip to the Caucasus in 2017.
Finally, we reach a suspension bridge, which is also lined with souvenir shops. However, almost all of them are closed.
On the other side of the bridge, there’s a small area where we could have tea, if anyone were there. A narrow, slippery path leads up the rocks. Just as we realize that this might actually be a path to a village, a man approaches us and stares at us in astonishment.
The route has now lost some of its intensity and is just a “normal” road. Towards the end, the road becomes a wonderful avenue, winding through fairytale-like, curved trees.
Finally, we reach the main road heading west again and follow it past the town of Quebele to Sheki (ลษki).
It was already evening when we arrived at the accommodation we had booked along the way. An elderly couple opened the doors for us and were delighted by our visit. We spoke to each other in a mixture of English and Russian and ended the day with a glass of Azerbaijani whisky.
