The main event - what David called the fun route - was climbing up a steep gully of slippery mud and slippery wet leaves, maybe 200-300 meters in distance. It took us more than an hour. It wasn't just that you couldn't find a foothold in the mud or that it was so steep you could almost touch the ground without leaning into the slope; there was nothing to grab onto either. That old Bushwhacker hike leader in me came out again - slave driver and helping hand at the same time - but everyone survived.
After the gully it got just a little easier - it wasn't as muddy, but it remained steep. I did not mention the Blair Witch movie once.
Once at the top of the ridge David led us to a so-called road, barely discernible under the leaves and not much to drive on under the best of conditions.
But it led to the vank, which was maybe the best one I've seen in Armenia. It could be that the circumstances of the visit and the isolated location of the building, with a thicket of thorny bushes surrounding it, made the place seem extra mysterious.
The monastery is about two kilometers from town as the crow flies, but in more than four hours of hiking we saw one person - a man leading a donkey that was pulling a couple of small felled tree trunks out of the forest. It just didn't seem like the time and place to whip out a camera and take a picture of the bewildered guy.
The road home was easier, except for the mud. There were times we were sliding more than we were walking.
We made it home just before dark. There was barely enough light to see whether we managed to scrape most of the mud off our boots. Dinner was Annie's Shells - gourmet macaroni & cheese - straight from a recent care package. I think we'll sleep well tonight.
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