Ch 41, Day 15: First Glimpse of Mt Ararat

 33.8
kms, Jun 21, 2021

The
next morning the Traveler is off at dawn. It's going to be even
hotter today, and he wants to cover as much grown as possible before
the heat kicks in. Enduring blistering heat isn't something he had
though he would have to worry about on coming to Europe—especially
in a mountainous country like Armenia. But it turns out that,
especially in the Ararat Valley around Yerevan, it gets very hot in
the summer. Today it might even top 40 C degrees.

The
Traveler has been giving this some thought. The main purpose of this
hike is enjoyment. He knows he's not trying to prove anything to
anyone or accomplish some amazing physical feat. So if the hike
becomes a miserable slog... well, he's going to have to call it off
or postpone it.

He's
even tempted to “jump ahead” and do a hike through a cooler area,
and then come back and do this part later when the temperature goes
down. But in the end he's decided that he will focus on early
morning hikes... and not push himself too hard each day.

So
the day starts off well, watching the day wake up over the Chiva
valley, as he follows a hardly used country road. He does take a
little detour to wander up and down the farm village of Yelpin,
where the valley comes to an end, and the road starts climbing up
the steep, arid mountainside.
The Traveler takes few minutes to
gaze back at this valley—and the Arpi River Basin, thinking of all
he has experienced in the last 3 days. Right up ahead he will cross
into Ararat Province, leaving the Vayots Dzor region behind...

So
he heads over yet another pass, leaving the Arpi River Basin behind.
Here again, there's an immediate change in landscape. This side is a
lot dryer and desertlike, with streams being either a trickle or
completely dry. It seems a a bit ironic that, as the Traveler gets
closer to the economic heart of modern Armenia, the land feels more
and more inhospitable.

There
is an exception. The village of Zangakatun is an oasis of green, and
the Traveler takes his time wandering the back alleys, never quite
sure if he's headed for a dead end if he's following a pathway across
the village. Here, instead of walled in compounds, he sees very basic
homes where people look very poor, by European standards.

An
old lady stares at him inquisitively. He asks if he's on the right
way to get back to the highway, and she says yes... but he ends up at
a dead end, and has to come back the same way, feeling a bit
sheepish. Nobody seems to treat him with suspicion though.

He
makes it back to the highway. Here there is a sign telling of the
history of this village. It tells how, during the “Great
Displacement”, folks from this village were forced to resettle in
the Salmast province of Persia. Then, in the Russo-Persian War of
1826, folks migrated back here again. It also mentions that the
great Armenian poet, Paruyr Sevak was born here.

Several
people the Traveler has met have mentioned that their families
immigrated from Persia/Iran—where there is still an Armenian
community, protected by the government. Most folks are either
neutral, or have a a positive image of Iran and its relationship with
Armenia—although no one seems interested in visiting the country.
While Armenia does have a painful history with the Persians, it seems
that, since the historical relationship with the Turks and Azeris is
so much more painful, Iran seems like the nice, friendly neighbor in
comparison.

The
Traveler continues on, following the highway as it follows the jagged
slopes of these bone dry mountains. After the pleasant, green valleys
yesterday, it feels like this road is taking him to an inhospitable
wilderness. There is another village visible up the steep slope. The
Traveler decides to climb up to take a look at it... only to find
that it's pretty much empty—just a couple of boxy buildings and
farmhouses, looking pretty bleak and abandoned. Considering how
miserable hot it is, he really regrets making the climb and doesn't
even count Ursalanj as a “town”.

And
the he sees it. Going around a bend... peeking up from behind a bone
dry ridge... is the top of a mountain, completely covered with snow.
The Traveler immediately knows what it is. It can be none other that
the great Mount Ararat.

That
sight invigorates the Traveler, and makes him forget how hot it is
for a moment. It is ironic that the weather is getting hotter and
hotter as he gets closer to the snowiest mountain he has seen so far.
And he knows this mountain is symbolic of so many things. Even
though he won't be able to visit it, for now, just getting close to
it, is going have a special significance, he is sure.

Mt
Ararat, is an important mountain in religious mythology, as it is
said to be the resting place for Noah's Ark, after the flood that
covered the world in water. And for centuries it was the symbol and
in the heartland of the Armenian Empire. Today... it is still
considere the symbol of Armenia, even though it is in present day
Turkey. Armenians can gaze up at it wistfully from their capital
Yerevan, but not visit it.

And
for the Traveler? It means that, after 2 weeks of trudging through
the mountains, he's finally getting close to a big city, with all the
comforts and conveniences that that entails. And he is determined to
relax and pamper himself once he reaches Yerevan, right across from
this mountain.

But
he's still got a couple days' hiking to go. And right up ahead,
there's a fork in the road with two choices for getting to Yerevan
and the Ararat Valley: a lesser used road the meanders on through the
mountains, and a more direct route along the main highway, straight
to the valley. The Traveler opts for the straight way—even though
he knows, the rule is: avoid highways whenever you can.

The
Azerbaijani former Exclave

There's
another reason for following the highway. According to Google Maps,
the highway goes right smack through a little Azerbaijiani exclave,
right in the middle of Armenia!

The
Traveler is curious, what's up with that? So he looks it up, and it
turns out that Tigranashen was part of Azerbaijan, with an
Azeri population, back during Soviet times, but during the war, all
Azeris were driven out, and it was fully absorbed into Armenia.
Apparently the “official” borders haven't changed, so Google maps
is going by what is official: Tragranashen is still part of
Azerbaijan.

Up
over yet another desert ridge, and there it is. Nothing all that
special about this little village. It does have a well maintained
irrigated vineyard, making the valley look alive in contrast with the
dry mountains around. The Traveler heads down a shortcut into the
village, soaking in everythign around. On one side, is what looks
like a school building. It looks in very bad shape—but seems to
still be being used for something, with people in it.

Up
ahead is a cemetery. But this one looks different. Instead of the
low walled family plots, it has pillars that are more typical of
Muslim cemeteries. And many of these pillars look damaged and
broken.

The
Traveler gets a sudden chill at this sight, as it hits him: probably
this was an Azeri cemetery, that the Armenians vandalized after the
Azeris were driven out. It was not enough to cause suffering to the
living. They also insulted the dead.

The
Traveler wants to get a closer look and take some pictures, but he
gets the feeling that he's being watched. And he also realizes that
this is not the sort of thing Armenians want the outside world to
see. They're narrative has always been “we were the victims simply
fighting to defend ourselves”. They don't want to be seen as folks
who practice ethnic cleansing and then desecrate the graves of the
families of those forced to leave.

Later
the Traveler reads an Armenian article expressing outrage about
Azeris destroying old Armenian cemeteries. The article clearly
states that “Armenians would never do something like that...”

The
Traveler greets a couple of children as he passes. There are rural
family compounds with gardens here—but no shops or commerce of any
sort. Then at the far end, is a two pronged pillar, a memorial of
sorts, probably to the conquest of this village.

The
Traveler rests under a tree trying to let this all sink in. Part of
him can understand how people's rage could lead them to do something
like this. But he also realizes that, with this going on on both
sides of the conflict, it makes it going to make it really, really
hard for people to forgive and move on. Losing young men in battle
is one thing. For your grandparents to not be able to rest in peace
because their graves have been desecrated is another. He gets the
sinking feeling that this fighting is going to be going on for a
very, very long time. And it doesn't look like it's going to go well
for Armenia.

He
continues on, through the barren landscape. He finally reaches
another village, named after the poet Paruyr Sevak, which has
shops. The shop is closed, but a lady passing by seems to imply that
she's coming back and will open soon... so he waits... and finally
enjoys a cold drink and continues on.

The
heat is withering—and no shade anywhere along the way. Finally the
Traveler figures he shouldn't push himself any farther, and accepts a
ride down into the valley. Tomorrow he'll come back and pickis up
where he left off.

His
driver seems like a reasonably well off fellow who speaks good
English. “I work for a solar energy company” he tells the
Traveler. “things are actually going very well. Armenia gets a
lot of sunlight, and people prefer solar because it's cheaper than
regular electricity.”

“So
is it expensive to import solar panels here to Armenia?” the
Traveler asks.

“We
actually have our own solar panel factory!” is the response, which
is a welcome surprise. It gives the Traveler another perspective on
this country, that from what he has seen so far, doesn't have a very
productive economy. He's looking forward to experiencing Greater
Yerevan, which he gets the feeling is going to be world's away from
the relatively poor and empty south side of the country.

For
tonight, he'll just stay at a hotel in the town of Ararat, so he can
quickly come back and finish his hike tomorrow.