From the village, I headed further north through beautiful fields. Cold wind pushing against me, I fought to go forward, to reach the much talked about waterfall of the Shirak region. The path there was not straight nor could I take the road that twisted and turned around the hills before me. It was cold, very cold as I climbed to the top, and in the distance, I could hear the constant noise of tons of water ever-crashing on rock. I descended down the waterfall, the spray drenching my face and clothing. It is the most beautiful waterfall in Armenia, without a doubt. But at this time of year, it is something only to be appreciated from a distance. The high canyon falls surrounding its source, blocked out the fun, and as night fell, so did the temperature. All the mist collecting on my tent walls crystallized to ice crystals. I waited just long enough for my belongings to their under the heat of the sun, then packed again and headed up north to the snow-covered mountains between me and the next village. My shoes and socks soaked as I climbed through knee high powder, dangerous cliffs that would mean the end of my journey with one small slip. As I came down from the peak, the weather changed completely. The sun was less strong, and I was again walking through fertile mountain meadows with a new sense of accomplishment, feeling as though I left winter behind me, as now back into high altitude fall. Crossing over plains surrounded by high mountains, green forests, and flowing rivers, this Lori region it my favorite thus far, a place where I can see settling down. The climate and surroundings remind me of home, but with an Armenian twist, and much of it is still left untouched. I ventured deep into the forests, and to my surprise, came out the other side into a clearing surrounded by unique ornamental plants from the far corners of the world.
