No breakfast today in this hotel. I walk slowly along the main street, wondering if I can find anything. From a café I’m hailed by people asking me to join them. So it’ll be tea, that’ll be that. We chat for a while about my trip, how to say Georgia in Turkish... Then I hit the road.
The weather is a lot rougher than yesterday and also a lot windier. The wind shifted a lot, with the threat of thunderstorms, but I had it head-on most of the time.
A digression from the main road takes me through a village where there’s a festival. I don’t understand what’s going on, but they seem to be having a good time.

The road gets closer to the Iranian border and it looks like the Maginot Line, with forts or a wall everywhere.

There’s a new official pass at 2644, but I don’t think we’re there yet... Perhaps by digging up the road they’ve reduced the height of the pass ? We’re still about sixty metres short...

The storm is threatening and I’m getting closer to it, the peaks masked by thick black clouds. Then, round a bend, I see Mount Ararat, imposing, its summit still hidden in the storm clouds.

Tomorrow Igdir