Lake Sevan in Armenia: A Hike to Nothing to See, an Icy Path, and a Headache of a Hitchhike
On my second day in Sevan, I hiked a long way to see nothing. Ekaterina, my first host and self-appointed guide in Armenia, had suggested hiking to a place called Akhtamar. I hadn’t asked what was there to see.
In the morning, I made a cup of coffee and researched flights and visas for the Balkan countries. I had only twenty days in Armenia, and given my horrible experience at the Georgia immigration, I didn’t want to go back to Georgia. I had also seen the country enough and didn’t want to explore more. Armenia is land-blocked by Turkey and Azerbaijan. Iran was at war. So the idea was to go to the Balkans. As per my research, I could visit four countries without needing an additional visa. My US visa would work. (It did work. I flew to Sarajevo from Yerevan.)
I messaged Ekaterina. “Hey! One last question. Good morning. I woke up so late. Do you remember how long it takes to Akhtamar, the place you suggested? I will start probably at 12/1 the latest. Not sure if I will have enough time then!”
“I think it’s doable. But you can always go back down too. It’s 8 km up with an elevation gain of 600, so about 2.5-3 hours, plus 3 km of descent to the Akhtamar place, so maybe 1.5 hours there. And some additional time for hitchhiking back. Or you can just walk up until you find a place where you want to stop and turn around and walk back into the town.” Ekaterina was always direct about everything.
I got out of the hotel by 11:45, following the trail on Maps dot me. The streets on the outskirts of Sevan City were lined with simple village homes and fields. Families out in the streets smiled and said hello as I passed by. Shepherds were taking their cattle and sheep to the mountains.
Soon, the trail was taking me up the mountains. I could see the track that I had taken the previous day, about which I have written in this article, on my left. The phone or electric towers that I had noticed were right there.
The trail was nice and grassy. I hiked up leisurely, enjoying the panoramic views. The beautiful Lake Sevan was right behind me. All around me were the mountains. Some were gently sloped, and some were high icy peaks. Wildflowers had taken over everything. Down below, a group of horses grazed without a concern in the world.
The wind sang in my ear. The sun was shining, yellowing everything. I couldn’t have been happier. I was doing well on time, too. For sure, I was going to make it to the hiking marker Ekaterina had put on my phone much before her estimated time. I was approaching closer to the marker, so maybe another half an hour and I would be there, I thought. Instead of 2.5-3 hours, I was done in about two hours.
Soon, I would be going down towards Akhtamar. The path was sort of taking an inverted V turn. Why do I need to go ahead and come back? I should just go down from here. On my right, the valley was a large meadow. The slopes were marked with trails. Just below me, there was a cable car station, now abandoned. I had to go through it to go down.
I couldn’t just go down from where I was standing, though. Thick snow covered these slopes. Maybe because of the snow they are sending me on the longer path? Maybe the trail on the map is broken at this point due to the snow? I decided to be a good girl. I followed the path, my feet crushing the grass. There was a v-turn there, alright. I took it.
More snow welcomed me. It had not yet melted on that portion of the trail. Now what? I could not have walked over the ice. I would have slipped. My shoes weren’t equipped for snow. I have no technical expertise or experience of walking on snow either. I walked back and forth, trying to understand how to maneuver the icy portion.
I climbed a little up, above the snow, and walked over grass and through dry shrubs. Voila! The snow was crossed. But what was this? The path ahead was white, too. The slope was icy, and if a tiny section of it had been cleared, I would have crossed it. But I didn’t even try stepping on that icy slope; it would have been risky. One wrong step and down I would go.
I was wondering whether to go further or back. I thought of going back a bit, trying to cross from above the snow. Maybe at the place I had wondered, from where I could see the cable car station below, there was a way, and I had missed it. I had looked well, though, and there was no path there. Still, I was hopeful. Otherwise, I would have to go back towards the inverted V and then go forward and find a way down. Let me go backwards.
I walked on top of the mountain along the ridge above the snow, hoping to find a way to cross it. I reached the place from where the cable car station was clearly visible. No. There was no way to go down. All ice. Now I was cursing myself because I didn’t trust my earlier judgment.
I would have to go forward again, ignore the V-turn, and walk ahead. This time, I saw two cuts in the mountain. There were some breakthroughs through the slope. Otherwise, even that side was under snow. I walked, constantly looking below me to find a way down, for a break in the ice. Not wanting to stop unless I had found the way, I took out my sandwich and ate it while walking. Far on my right, there was a movement. I caught a glimpse of a yellowish fox sprinting into the bushes. She had seen me and didn’t want me to see her.
I would have missed the two cuts had I not been careful. If I had missed them, I would have had to do a one and a half hour trail or something. This cut-through was a landslide. Rocks were thrown over the side of the mountain. The downward path was steep, grassy, bushy, overgrown with all sorts of things. I knew I could make my way down from there. Then I would follow the wild-flowered meadow to reach the original trail.
Mindful of snakes, I stepped downwards, crushing grass and dry stalks. Some of those dry plants were still standing, and I kept my foot on them so there was something under my feet, not the invisible ground, which could be dense with snakes. The dry stalks, when crushed under my feet, made a crunching sound. I was sure it was enough to send the snakes away. I was lifting my foot higher so the stalks bent down under it. Walking this way, I was tired.
When I cleared the bushy slope and came to a clearer space, I sat down to rest. From 11:45 to 4:30, I walked continuously. I was exhausted.
I drank water and ate strawberries. They were so juicy that the juice dripped everywhere as I ate them. I thought that the ants would be happy. It had been so windy up there on the mountains. The sun had gone; now there was sun. I lay down, my back on the grass, the sun on my eyes and face. I didn’t sleep tight, but I rested.
In about half an hour, or forty minutes probably, I got up. The Map showed a trail from where I was. I couldn’t find it.
The downwards slope was covered in tall grass. Can’t catch a break. I stared at the slight pieces of ground visible through the grass and wildflowers. I didn’t realize when the whole ground became muddy. There was a stream close enough that the earth was marshy there. I was trying to avoid the wet spots, but soon my shoes were muddy and wet. My socks were muddy too. When I had crossed that marsh, I turned around. Yes, there was the outline of a track, two outlines through the tall grass. Not easy to find.
That marked path was also wet but not so marshy. I crossed the stream at many points to arrive at the marker Ekaterina had put on my map. Now I thought of the main question. What is there to see?
My map showed a train yard. I clambered up a tiny slope. There was a train track. I knew I couldn’t walk along it. I went down again. I wrote to Ekaterina, “Hey! What was I supposed to see at Akhtamar? Haha. There’s a train yard I think.”
I walked out, crossing a petrol pump and curious cars. Ignoring the idea of stopping at the peninsula and the Sevanavank monastery I couldn’t see the previous day, I tried to hitchhike. I would go home. Cars rushed by me. This was also the highway to Yerevan.
A driver, his car at the petrol pump, waves me towards him. He said, “Come, I will take you.” If he were going in that direction, Sevan would be on his way. That’s all that mattered. The questions began. “How old are you?” “Are you traveling alone?” “Are you married?” “Do you have children?” “Where is your husband?” “When is he coming?”
I told him my husband was coming from Turkey. He had some work in Istanbul. “You know we have nothing to do with Turkey, right?” He said. The conversation was happening on Google Translate. He pointed to my ring finger, as if asking, “Where is your ring?” I told him we don’t have rings in India. He pointed to his wrist then. Maybe he was trying to say that married Indians wore bangles. I gestured that I didn’t like them.
After a bit of back and forth during which I tried convincing him to drop me anywhere and not go extra for me, and he told me he would drop me where I needed to go, I got down in the center. I bought a few things from the supermarket and walked home, sending audio messages to my partner, Sagar. I told him the story of the guy and also said that I was so tired of speaking that I didn’t want to do a call yet.
Passing fish restaurants and signs of barbecued fish, something else struck me. Oh, there is so much fish because there is a lake. I should eat grilled fish or something. I did, the next night. For then, I had my dinner in the fridge. A spicy curry of greens I had made the previous night. To reduce the chili, I made it soupy. It was still spicy. I put the lentils I had soaked in the morning on the stove, turning the gas on a low flame. Then I heated up rice and had my dinner.
My phone beeped. Ekaterina had written back, “Nothing really.”
So I had hiked all day to see nothing and still seen so much. I was happy.
Do you like to hike? What do you think about Sevan Lake in Armenia?
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