John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, Thirty Thousand Miles in "The Wanderer", 1903

In 1901, two New Yorkers, John Boit and Sam P. Blagden, embarked on a remarkable journey that will take them to Georgia and back. They sailed in "The Wanderer", a beautiful 480 tons yacht that built in 1897 by Ramage and Ferguson in Scotland. The yacht had excellent accommodations, with "two rooms on deck, a large dining-saloon below, nine state-rooms and four baths." The two men departed from New York on 11 December 1901 and first sailed to Florida. After exploring the Caribbean, they sailed to Europe, stopping at the Canaries and Morocco. They explored the Mediterranean Sea, passed through the Straits into the Black Sea and, in April 1902, reached the shores of Batumi.

Tuesday, April 8 [1902]

Our night's run to Batoum [Batumi] was delightfully smooth. We reached there about 6 A.M. and found many ships, for the most part oil-carriers, anchored around us; and inside of the big mole we could see dozens of large vessels.

After we had sent our passports ashore we tried to land, but were sent back to await the visit of the Custom officers, who arrived about 10 A.M., accompanied by the Chief of Customs for the District— a Russian General. After a little champagne they proved amenable to suggestions, and gave us much valuable advice as to our trip over the Georgian Military Road. Until now it had been impossible to get accurate information, and we were very glad to find that it was not too early to take the drive.

Then all ashore for luncheon, and to call on the Consul, Mr. Chambers, who was most hospitable, and who took us to the station where we engaged accommodations for the trip to-night. The town is very new and unattractive, not unlike a modern oil town in America. The Consul told us that, with the exception of the "Namouna," the "Wanderer" is the first yacht that has visited Batoum in seventeen years.

We went ashore about 10.30 P.M., and took the 11.15 P.M. train for Tiflis. Mr. Chambers was down to see us off, and he instructed the Russian porter how to take care of us. We found the Russian sleeping carriages very comfortable. Travelers must, however, themselves provide bedding and towels.

Wednesday, April 9

[We] were called about daylight to see the scenery, which is certainly wonderful. Reached Tiflis about 11.30 A.M., after many stops for "tchai," or tea. Drove to the hotel which Mr. Chambers had recommended, and were told that there were no rooms. We asked about other hotels, and were informed there were no rooms to be had in the entire city. Luckily, however, the Commodore asked if these rooms were engaged for the German steamer, adding that we expected to leave before its arrival. The hotel people then said we could have all the rooms we desired.

Although Tiflis is an attractive place, it is in many ways disappointing, as the greater part is but eighty years old, and what remains of the ancient city is across the river. The hotel was remarkably pleasant. On one side it looks out on a quaint street with a handsome plaza, and the view from the rear takes in the swift running river. After a delicious luncheon we started out to visit the bazaars. Tiflis is famous for its Persian population, and the furs and enameled work that they bring. We all purchased large quantities of furs.

In the afternoon we arranged about taking the drive over the Dariel Pass to Vladikafkaz, and we engaged Rustum, as dragoman, who apparently has been the guide and friend of every one from Norman down. We find it is better to split up the party, as the accommodations would not be good for a large party.

Thursday, April 10

All hands wandering around the town buying furs and silverware. We lunch at 12 o'clock, as Mrs. Robinson and the Commodore are to start at 1 P.M. over the Georgian Road, and the rest of the party leave at daylight to-morrow morning. At 12.30 we started with four horses abreast, a la Russe. After a little time spent in packing the luggage the driver arranges himself on the box in his many robes, and with the cracking of whips and cheers from the rest of the party, we begin our drive. The horses are fresh, and soon we swing out of the street on to the winding road, which runs along by farms and villages, with here and there an orchard in full bloom. We meet many farm wagons coming up to town with their products, and men and women on their way to work. It is hot, and the glare is disagreeable. But we can see the mountains ahead of us, and know that as soon as we begin the ascent we shall be more comfortable.

We cross the railroad track as we draw near Mtzkhete [Mtskheta], and see it no more until our journey's end. There is an old church here which dates back many centuries to the time when Tiflis was the capital of Georgia. We do the first stage in an hour and fifteen minutes, covering twenty and a half versts, equal to about fourteen miles. After a stop of about five minutes to change horses and have a cup of tea, we are off again, our next stop being Tsilkane, which we reach in an hour and ten minutes; having gone on this stretch fourteen and a half versts and being now eighteen hundred feet above the sea.

Then on again, speedily putting versts behind us, we arrive at Douchete [Dusheti] in an hour and twenty-five minutes, having traveled seventeen versts and three quarters, and are now twenty-nine hundred feet high. We again have tea, and shortly after are off for Ananour [Ananuri], which we reach after a very quick run, wholly down hill, with only two horses.

It seems more due to Providence than to our driver that we keep to the road, as we swing down and around corners on the drive to Ananour, which is twenty-three hundred feet above the sea, and where we are to spend the night. The faithful Vincent, our dragoman, sees that we get a very fair dinner and that our beds are comfortable. Shortly after dinner it began to rain, and there was a wonderful thunderstorm.

Friday, April 11

We start at 8 A.M. on a beautiful clear, sunny day. The scenery has been very much like that of the earlier stages of the drive—beautiful, picturesque, and cultivated. But when we leave Ananour and begin our climb to the next stop at Pasananour [Pasanauri], which is three thousand six hundred feet above the sea, the blossoms of flowers give place to hardier shrubs, while the mountain-walls close in, and here and there we see patches of snow high up on the rocky peaks.

As we climb up and up to Mlet [Mleta] the country grows wilder and wilder; and from the shelving rock, along one side of which we ascended, we see the river like a silver band far below us at the bottom of the rocky gorge. The snow, too, which at first lay only near the mountain-tops, was now spread far down the sides of the cliffs.

When we reached Mlet we found ourselves really in the snow-land, for it was all about the houses, the roadside, etc. Here we had a light lunch and changed horses again, and soon were off. The road is marvelous, with a moderate grade, and its general condition and character well worthy of being copied by an American park.

We now started on a sharp ascent. The road climbs some three thousand feet between here and the next station, Gaudaour [Gudauri]. The sun was bright, and although we passed several huge snow-drifts towering far above us, we did not find the cold as severe as we had expected. Many gangs of men were at work clearing the road, and digging the snow at the sides where it rose in places over fifty feet in height, the road winding like a narrow strip of black between two sheer white walls. The road had been open for the season only during three days.

At Gaudaour we changed horses, and then on, climbing for a short time longer until at last we topped the ridge and saw the cross high above us on a cliff. The cross was put there to mark the confines of Holy Russia; and here we passed from Asia into Europe. We had taken an extra man on the carriage from Gaudaour, and the two outside horses were here uncoupled to be taken back by him, while we started down the steep descent with only a pair. The descent was at a rattling pace, and one did not care to think what would happen if one of the horses fell as we swung around the corner of one of the many zigzags. From time to time, as we galloped along, we dashed from the brilliant sunshine blazing on the snow into the damp darkness of a tunnel or snowshed. One of these, the longest, is over a mile in length, and was lighted by lamps from the roof.

At Kobi, which we reached very quickly, we changed horses again, and then started for Kasbek, where we are to spend the night. The road was not quite so much of an incline, and we had four horses again, which were so harnessed as to be well-nigh uncontrollable by the driver. We reached Kasbek shortly before dark, and spent the night there. The view of the mountain from the hotel is superb. It was hard to realize that this mountain, which seemed so near, is three thousand feet higher than Mount Blanc. 

Saturday, April 12

We had a comfortable night, and at 8 A.M. started on what is really the grandest and most impressive part of the ride. We had gradually left the snow on the way from Kasbek, and for some time before reaching Lars had been winding down the side of the gorge of the Terek, which one hears rushing and roaring over its rocky bed far below. The mountains, dull brown and black, soon rose towering immediately overhead, rent with great gashes and gorges, nearly all of which show traces of land-slides. Some years ago a land-slide tore away parts of the road itself, rendering it impassable for ten years.

These walls and serrated cliffs shut us in as far as Lars, closing in from time to time until all we could see was the blue of the sky, stretching like a ribbon far above us. This is the celebrated Pass of Dariel. At one place where the defile was specially narrow we passed a small fortress, at which is stationed a post of Cossacks. Behind this fort, aloft on a pinnacle of rock, are the ruins of an old castle, which is said to have been built by Tamara, once the Queen of these parts. The legend says that she tempted travelers to visit her by tales of her great beauty, only to hurl them from the cliffs to the river below when they had served her purpose.

At Lars we changed horses again. We were in the same gorge for some time after leaving, and the sun being overhead changes the lines and shades of the scene. [...] It was [...] a never-to-be-forgotten and awe-inspiring sight. But one breathed freer as the valley opened out a little on nearing Balta. Here we changed horses again, and, instead of the two that we had from Lars to Balta, we put to four and started on our last stage.

The bare rocky walls gave place now to great rolling hills with shrubs and trees; and as they opened out wide, we saw in the soft light fields and farms with their cattle, and soon the houses of Vladikafkaz came in sight, and in about a quarter of an hour we rattled over the pavements. We found a good hotel and had an excellent luncheon, leaving about 4 P.m. by train for Novorossisk. We had to change cars several times, and were much disturbed, as we did not have too much confidence in the Russian of our dragoman. We found the sleeping carriage most comfortable, and the journey a very pleasant one....

[The travelers continued their journey to Crimea where they got back onto their yacht and resumed their journey.]

Charles Fillingham Coxwell, Through Russia in War-time (1916) - Part 2

Charles Coxwell Fillingham (1856 - 1940) was a well-traveled writer, translator and folklorist.  he had traveled widely across Europe and the Russian Empire, collecting folktales and translatinf German, French and Russian literature into English. His most famous work is "Siberian and Other Folk Tales" that introduced Western readers to the folk culture of ethnic groups residing in Siberia. During World War I he traveled through the Russian Empire, crossing the Caucasus Mountains and visiting Georgia before proceeding to Baku and Daghestan.

Early next morning I walked among the primitive houses of Kasbek. Great dogs, like white St. Bernards, barked defiance from the flat roofs, which have a special interest, since frequently they are covered either with ten or twelve inches of earth for the cultivation, at certain seasons, of vegetables, or with a fine stony material. The inhabitants may pass directly from sloping paths on to the tops of the dwellings. The way from one home to another lies generally through an untidy yard, and the alleys and lanes are very irregular. Some of the habitations possess a second story reached by an outer staircase of stone. The people seemed more prosperous and intelligent than those at Gergeti, opposite, but they follow the same occupations, namely, tillage on a small scale, or rearing cattle, or pursuing the tur. A traveler [Captain R.N.Telfer], supplying a valuable narrative, relates that a hunter, having promised him sport in this neighbourhood, would not fire a gun because a corpse lay unburied. He tells us that Pushkin found a funeral party who did not desist from beating their foreheads till the body, enveloped in a 'bourka,' had been taken from the house and the dead man's gun laid by his side. Apparently the observance of such customs does not militate against a prevalence of superstitious beliefs, carried so far that a guide is reported to have exhibited the utmost dread before penetrating recesses in Mount Kasbek sacred to biblical Abraham and the Virgin Mary. Among its snows are said to linger the patriarch's tent and, within it, the holy manger.

Making my way up an acclivity, I reached diminutive fields where natives, mostly women, wearing, under short skirts, long coloured calico trousers, were cutting hay. So I attained an advantageous position whence I could look, across the valley, at the great pinnacle of snow beautifully illumined by a sun still invisible. Photography was futile, for the light remains bad till late amid such high mountains. On the road a poor fellow, whose eyes were much inflamed, accosting me, said he had heard I was a doctor, and asked me to cure him, and I made a suggestion which may have alleviated his suffering.

Kasbek posting station stands at an elevation of about 5,600 feet, so that I had risen more than 3,000 feet since leaving Vladikavkaz. The immediate route was along a flat valley which lies between mountain-sides a mile or so apart. Here the road closely accompanies the Terek, which though tolerably broad and deep, reveals a stony bed as clear as that of an English trout stream. On the right across the river, and high up the great rocky wall, hung a hamlet, having the highest tower I had yet seen, but not easily distinguishable because made of the reddish mountain stone.

Next we met a small caravan. Upon the grass, and near half a dozen small wagons with arched canvas-covered roofs, drivers were beginning their day. They had passed the night in little bell-shaped tents, and, in the middle of their camp, one of their number sat upon a high stone that his head might be conveniently shaved by a friend. The outlook soon became a little less desolate, and as the road wound about and ascended, a mountain of magnificent craggy outline seemed to lie across our path. A foreground to this picture was formed by the little village of Sion, whose ancient tower stands almost as a landmark, while the basilica resembles outwardly the early Christian churches. Upon a horizontal pole beside it are hung its bells. At this point we overtook some carts driven by Ossetes, dressed, as usual, in white slouch hats and tight-fitting garments. The party interested me because we left Vladikavkaz at nearly the same time, and its rate of progress towards Tiflis approximated to my own in the twenty-four hours —that is, about thirty miles. This seemed a fair rate for transport of merchandise in such a district, but the amount of traffic on the famous route was disappointing.

Gradually the scenery, although continuing grand, grew less wild until, after the descent to the post-house at Kobi, the river was seen to fork and the valley to broaden out. Altogether the view in the bright sunshine had grown less tremendous and awe-inspiring.

The Stanzia is here sheltered by an interesting geological formation, a cliff of lava. Up to now the rocks coming under my notice had been chiefly granite, with in one place slate, but as Mount Kasbek was originally a volcano, naturally enough columns of lava appeared where engineering operations had exposed the strata. Happily when I arrived, but little business took up the attention of the staff, consisting chiefly of two Georgian damsels, with an Ossetian lady friend, a visitor, and I was enabled to form an opinion of the feminine comeliness for which Georgia is renowned. The pretty Ossetian wore a red silk kerchief over the head in the manner customary with the women of her race; but the Georgians were more beautiful, possessing dark, languorous eyes and very regular features, charms which, with fine fresh complexions, accompanied a gentle and winning manner. It was my obvious duty to use the camera, and, after some little demur and exhibition of shyness, they let me have my way. Unwilling to lose time, I did not visit some troglodyte caves, to be reached by a difficult path in the neighbourhood. Regret for such an omission remains one of the penalties of imperfect travelling. But the solitary visitor must weigh various pros and cons, and a small command of a language may limit his movements.

Before my vehicle started on the next stage, which was toward the summit and the Station Gudaur, I had an opportunity of witnessing how busy a posting-house can be. Several carriages having arrived almost simultaneously on their way to Kasbek, there occurred much harnessing, unharnessing, and redistribution of horses. 

Finally I was dispatched with four steeds abreast and two drivers, whose hats, of white sheepskin and black astrakhan respectively, offered a sufficient contrast. The ascent soon became severe, and disclosed wooden sheds and various forms of masonry, for protection at times against avalanches and falling boulders. We were now surrounded by not rocky precipices but lofty grass-covered slopes. Sheep browsed at great heights, and men, standing on giddy inclines, cut a crop of hay with their sickles. By the roadside was noticeable a large red incrustation, due to the existence of iron and lime in a trickling stream. Toward the summit of the pass, which attains an elevation of nearly 8,000 feet, patches of snow lay on the ground, and a little way to the left rose a stone cross, first erected by 'Queen Tamara,' doubtless a different person from the lady who threw her lovers from castle walls on a lonesome rock in Daryal Gorge. When the two outside horses had been unhitched so as to follow with the wearer of the black 'shapka,' his fellow 'yemshchik' began the descent, absence of a brake being remedied by such strong roping of the shaft horses to the pole end as enabled them, if necessary, to hold back effectively. The views had now become superlative. Behind and to the right, at a moderate distance, extended a chain of lofty mountains called 'The Seven Brothers,' and attaining a height of 14,000 feet. Though no glaciers or considerable white expanse dominated the picture, a sufficiency of snow, forming bright lines on vast and dark spaces, increased the very varied effects of the mountainous contours. On the more immediate right could be seen the bottom of a deep valley, and several thousand feet beneath us a rushing silvery stream, the Aragva, which takes its origin in the tremendous range above mentioned, and proceeding on its course almost to Tiflis, prepares, as it were, a path for the traveler. In the afternoon I would make the wonderful descent to Mleti, and so join the Aragva.

The summit of the Krestovy, or 'Cross' Pass, with its verdant pastures, having been left behind, Gudaur, the post station, was soon reached. One of the three highest inhabited places in the Caucasus, it shines forth perhaps the most lovely, and the outlook across the deep valley is truly majestic. Gudaur has a legend. Here the mountain spirit Goud, falling in love with Nina, a beautiful child of Ossety, and worshipping her, protected her father and made him prosper. But Nina had plighted her troth to Sasyko, a handsome youth skillful with his gun. Now, when winter came, Goud could not see

Nina as often as before. So, tortured by jealousy, he sent an avalanche over the hut where the lovers sat blissfully together. At first they laughed and were content, but as time wore on they became tormented by hunger. Alas! during the madness of a fearful moment, Sasyko fastened his teeth in Nina's flesh; then Goud laughed so loud that huge stones fell to the bottom of the valley, and have stayed there ever since.

Opposite the posting-house at Gudaur is a tiny shrine to St. George (and the Dragon), and while I gazed on it a diminutive urchin walked off with my staff, which was soon recovered by the postmaster, who described, as if amused, the enterprise of 'ochen molodoy maltcheek' (' the very young boy '). A trifling incident, it served to remind me that in this remote and sparsely inhabited region I had met with very honest treatment, and been altogether unmolested by beggars.

The Tsar's ukaz against intoxicants is not applied strictly in these southern districts, and at Gudaur I tasted the wine of Khakhetia. Neither dark nor light, it was palatable, though lacking edge. I must acknowledge that the word 'veeno,' uttered by an attendant youth, fell pleasantly upon the ear of one who, wishing to lunch, had tasted no fermented drink for two or three months. The concession may have been because the district is a wine-growing one; or perhaps Transcaucasia enjoys a form of government less strict than that of Russia in general.

While I was recalling that the Caucasus has been considered by geographers the natural division between Europe and Asia, my reflections were interrupted by a strange sight. Up the ascent came slowly a cart piled high with faggots of wood. On them, and at full length, reclined a youth, while in front of two bullocks, and straining steadily, two women, by means of straps adjusted over the shoulders, aided the beasts in their task.

For some reason or other my casual efforts to observe bird life in Russia had little success, but I noticed at Gudaur a pretty bird whose kind I had seen in several parts of the land. It is crested, rather smaller than a magpie, and coloured fawn and black.

The 'yemshchik' who drove me down the eighteen zigzags to Mleti possessed a pleasant manner and handsome features, and was a superior specimen of humanity. Wearing on his head a well-formed black 'shapka' and around his body a heavy cloak, which at a little distance might have suggested a Roman toga, he formed an engaging charioteer, ready to show me where, at a dangerous spot, an automobile with its single occupant had recently gone to destruction. Farther on, I noticed a remarkable formation of cliff. Beside the road and over a space of something like two hundred yards, reddish hexagonal lava columns rise perhaps fifty feet.

However thoroughly, owing to the frequent reversal of our direction, the view might change, it always contained elements of sublimity. Dark peaks, decked with snowy lines, towered to the north; across and beyond dizzy depths beneath us stood forth great, if less terrible, heights of varying form; but gradually and steadily the several thousand feet separating us from the Aragva became fewer, till at last the river disclosed itself at the bottom of a chasm, beyond which stood, poised on the mountain-side, a hamlet with two square towers. A mile or two onwards, sentinels guarding a bridge permitted us to proceed, and then, passing a little church, the 'perekladnaya' drew up at the Stanzia of Mleti, opposite the entrance to which a large notice courageously stated that here was a first-class restaurant.

This station provided me with a gratuitous entertainment, as in the garden a tethered small brown bear now and again climbed the trunk of a tree. The creature, captured when a month old, as a Russian officer informed me, had now reached four times that age. The arrival of a tin containing crusts of bread floating in milk arrested angry growls, and prompted a dexterous use of the back of the paw as plate. I was soon relieved to find at my disposal a tolerably comfortable room, whose door could be securely fastened.  ‘Twas not amiss, as a party of travellers having arrived late, a loud voiced lady, accompanied by a gentleman, made very determined efforts to obtain any available accommodation. After a good night's rest, wishing to approach some small hamlets with ancient towers, I retraced my steps along the route of the previous day. While so doing I was overtaken by a splendid figure: a mounted Cossack with his rifle slung across his back. Having passed me, he doubtless descended by a mountain path and crossed the gorge of the Aragva, for I saw him returning on the other side of the stream, and keeping me, as I thought, in view.

Returning to the station, I found that the word 'seytchas,' signifying 'immediately,' has special elasticity in the minds of those attending to the wants of posting travelers. Two four-horsed and hooded phaetons had to be dispatched first. Next drove off a heavily laden tarantass, not lacking the inevitable bonnet-boxes. But when the last had been seen of its several occupants, including a uniformed student and a genial black-cassocked priest with hair caught up in a knot, who from his seat by the driver exhibited talent on a bugle, I once more entered my boat-shaped conveyance and proceeded. The road suddenly entered pretty, wooded scenes, with lateral gorges exhibiting forest or pasture, and conveying small affluents to the Aragva. One now saw, not ordinary bullocks but black buffaloes with shaggy heads, compressed striated horns, and great humps on their backs. Fields of oats appeared, at first green, but golden as the day wore on, and the climate grew rapidly warmer. Hamlets, dotted about more numerously, but, as before, perched high, consisted of primitive houses, having heavy stones which weighted down flat roofs, whose rafters projected far forward, and so ensured grateful shade.

Thus in a very few hours the scenery and surroundings had completely changed. Instead of either awe-inspiring, wild and frowning, or magnificent and snow-capped mountains, now a long valley bounded by lofty tree-covered hills delighted my eyes. The driver, if less agreeable than had been his predecessors, was shrewd. On a previous occasion, during the steep ascent to the Krestovy Pass, I had allowed a soldier to obtain some sort of foothold behind the 'perekladnaya '; and now, against the yemshchlk's wish, I permitted, under the glamour of beautiful surroundings, a farmer-like individual, armed as usual with a kinjaal [dagger], to plead successfully for a lift. Unfortunately, he brought with him a sack containing very hard goods, which proved inconvenient on the narrow floor. Moreover, the general atmosphere, though not lawless, seemed less secure as the Georgian capital was approached, and suggested wariness.