Location: Ushguli
Terrain: Steep grass slopes, dense brush, exposed high ground
Weather Forecast: Irrelevant
From the village, the mountain on the right looks friendly. Green. Rounded. The kind of slope that suggests a pleasant walk and absolutely does not mention the part where it tries to shake you off of itself.
The climb corrected that impression efficiently. Steeper than it looked, slowed further by hip-high bushes that existed purely to interfere. Not technical, not dramatic, but enough resistance to make sure you noticed every meter gained. Near the top, the ground dipped slightly between higher points. A small depression. Not cozy, but sheltered enough to qualify as good judgment. Camp went up there.
The evening delivered first. Across the valley, Shkhara Massif sat in full view, massive and indifferent, catching the last light. For a brief moment, everything was calm and cooperative. That ended quickly, right after sunset.
A storm cloud arrived with the subtlety of a slammed door. Rain and wind followed immediately, heavy and committed. Then lightning. Peaks around us lit up in sharp flashes. Thunder was close enough to stop being impressive and start being little bit more than annoying. In the distance, lightning struck electricity poles; light appeared to run along the cables horizontally, as if the infrastructure itself became one with nature.
Whatever was falling from the sky, hit the tent hard and fast. From the inside, it translated into a steady, almost soothing percussion. Fabric absorbed the impact. Poles held their shape. The ground stayed dry. The storm did all the work of being dramatic somewhere else.
Lying there, dry and warm, droplets drumming steadily above us, the world narrowed to the sound and the rhythm of it. The storm became something external, almost abstract. The tent became its own small, calm universe. Sleep came easily.
In the morning, hailstones were scattered around camp, making it clear that the weather had been worse than it sounded through nylon. Standing there, the conclusion was obvious.
Observation: Mountain weather does what it wants. Gear decides whether you experience it miserably or listen to it politely from the other side of a zipper.
As told by:
Irakli Gogiberidze
