Driven through the industrial, the depression that remained from the aftermath of the Soviet Union, the landscape yet again began to change. Small villages here and there along the way. Areas of rustic farm equipment sat idle by the roads. No people in sight. We came across the only station during the trip in which we stopped over and grabbed some coffee, a short fifteen minute break for us all to stretch out our legs a little. It was much colder here, an intense wind. This town had a more city aesthetic to it, one massive building sat in the middle, its windows shattered and its walls crumbling. This was yet another industry town that collapsed, a factory in the area that would have employed everyone in the area. Now it remained empty. I had never seen anything like that before. The factory swallowed up the landscape, the most dominant thing around, even with mountains in the distance. I wanted to see more of it, but couldn't. Instead, with an average coffee, I stood in the cold and photographed two stray dogs by the roadside. They remained fearful of me, curious and somewhat creeping up to get a better look. Though I didn't get a chance to pet them.
Throughout the trip, this station was by far the most modern thing about it. An oddity surrounded by decay and forgotten eras. It held a food court inside that was containing a few other people inside, but the area didn't seem all that popular outside of being a quick place to fill up your car and move on. About the most people in one place that were visible. The coffee wasn't great, as mentioned before, but it was a nice thing to warm up with under that wind. I couldn't stay still in this space, I wanted to roam around with the camera and do things. Also holding the nervousness of having to sooner or later deal with the passport control and border stuff as we approached Georgia. I always hate this side of travelling, the most stressful aspect of it all that puts a little lump in the throat, even after you've crossed and dealt with them. Though some of this was admittedly excitement also. The views around that made travelling fun again, after four months of being in Yerevan, things did seem to feel a bit more familiar, a little too integrated as daily live felt less like huge adventures and more like regular living. I probably needed it, though.
After our fifteen minutes of leg stretching was over, with now hands frozen from the cold, we hopped back into the minibus and continued our next leg of the journey. It took us even deeper into the mountains, to the point in which there were no longer small villages or towns. No more big cities like Gyumri suddenly appearing. No more signs of industry. The odd pylon may come into view, quickly disappearing again as the snow took over, a vast landscape of low hanging clouds and mountains all around. The roads still twisting and turning upward as we climbed them. At times I felt like I was going to die, at other times I felt the thrill of the bus pushing upward, the danger of the ice on the roads, the momentum needed to navigate it. Funnily, it was at this time that the three elderly women in the bus had chosen to wind down and take a collective nap. As the bus threw us from one side to the other.
At times in the journey I would look out of the window and see little aspects of life. Though mostly void of it, no flourishing trees or plants in such a climate. But there would be wild foxes, their bushy tails the most telling sign of their species. They stood in or walked through the more flat areas of land. The long stretches of nothing. between mountains, as landscapes and roads changed. Few other cars were ever really on the road with us, it was an interesting experience to feel so alone and with a sense of discovery. As if to be the first group of people through this space in a long time. Having sees foxes, I began to look harder out of the window for more signs of animals. Hoping to see deer or something larger. Though I never did see anything more, and I wasn't surprised given the lack of options for survival here. As void of opportunity as it could get, to the point in which even humans hadn't bothered in the area.
To my surprise, the mountainous landscapes had still only just begun. Few of them would have Christian symbols visible at their peaks. Crosses or old stone monuments. Odd to see in such empty space, but something I've come to expect in Armenia with its strong religious ties. It made the space feel more special, more magical and otherworldly. And quickly I couldn't figure out where I wanted to look. Which side of the car? The left, right, or from the back as we pushed forward, watching the landscape change behind us. I held the camera in my hands the whole time, cautious of the battery as the temperature dropped. The feeling of cold piercing through the socks and boots I was wearing. A little bit of concern on whether it would get colder, and what to do about it. And this was definitely where the real natural landscapes would begin. But you'll have to wait until the next post to see!