A few hours later I emerged at the bottom of the old road through the Sevan Pass, still unrelaxed, but without even a little bite taken out of me.  Either the beasts couldn’t see me in the fog, or if they could, I looked like a particularly indigestible member of my species.  (An Armenian friend later did a news search – there had been wolf attacks in the region, though no one, to his knowledge, had been eaten.)

The end of the pass rejoined the highway.  There was no shoulder to walk on, and given the fog and the trucks and the unpoetic probability of being taken out by a truck in the fog, I hitched a ride for a few kms till just after a fork when a road for humans re-appeared.  Here I was now below the fog:

No snow either but it was wet.  From now it was a steady slope downhill to Dilijan.

For quite a while I followed what seemed to be some type of old drainage stream at the bottom of some hills carpeted with fallen leaves:

This working substation (or whatever it is) doesn’t appear to have received recent maintenance.  Though as beautiful as it was, I am glad it was not the source of my evening’s electricity:

Many of the houses along the road were big but somewhat shambolic.  But despite seeming almost thrown together, smoke from cooking fires and washing hanging outside gave them a homely feel:

Apartment buildings were marginally less shambolic than the houses (though having been in a few, while solid-looking from the outside, they often seemed to be crumbling on the inside).

This was a semi-rural area, with quite a few farms set into the hillside.  Mostly mixed farms, with pigs, sheep, cows, chickens, turkeys.  This is a meat-eating populace.

However despite the constructed-from-leftovers feel of the place, there was no denying its beauty:

(events 13 Nov 2012 pm)