The recovery from these festivities was slow, and two lazy days later our brains were fried and frozen from being inactive. Just the thought of leaving cracked the ice and when we mounted our saddles our mindlake became almost swimmable again. We left Yerevan early in a dense mist and minor snowfall. Luckily the first fifteen kilometers were steep, uphill and perfect for warming up. The following pit stop our cores and the outside air temperatures were such great differences every part of our bodies was steaming. Gloves off *kssshhh*, hat off *kssshhh*, jacket open *ksshh kssshh ksssh*. Even our saddles were giving off damp when we left them for lunch.
Bellies refueled, the climbing commenced until we reached the upper layer of clouds and we finally greeted the sun again. The mist in our minds cleared and we celebrated with a free chacha shot on the road. We arrived in Sevan, a lakeside town where we held halt at the first opportunity for supper. The local Shoarma bar was more than happy to receive four hungry tourists and offered us a table secluded behind curtains. "Wodka?" The chef asked us three times, sticking his head between the curtains and showing us the bottle. "No no thank you"
A beautiful, abandonned warehouse caught our eye. This building even had windows, so you can imagine we had no choice but to inspect this camping opportunity. We were welcomed by a barking that was as loud as the dogs were tiny, and they were protecting what looked like an old bus graveyard. A man, obviously inebriated, stumbled out of his office and used his good eye to see what the racket was about. In fluent Russian we explained him we would like to check out his crib and we would love to spend the night in the warehouse. It took some time before he understood and when he finally got it, he let us install our beds in our new hide-out. We concluded the night with a last drink in his tiny shack, but when our kind host's trembling hands were not capable of filling a glass anymore, we went to sleep.