We woke to calm and allowed the sun to dry the tent before packing it up. Breakfast consisted of bread, cheese, cucumber and tomato, with apple juice. We were quite late and it was nearly noon when we moved onward. Our hike took us in a north easterly direction, away from the foot of Şahdağ and up the valley of the Shahnabadchay river. This is surely the true 'Cloudcatcher Canyon'. In this tight valley, the clouds form all day long in the form of a long whispy serpent around the base of Mt. Şahdağ. They also drift down the east side from Baltagaya and can quickly throw the Shahnabadchay valley into mist on an otherwise clear day. The scene is really gorgeous. Everywhere mountains compete to dominate the horizon. Everywhere clouds and mist swirl and subside, constantly cycling around the foothills. In the expansive pastures below, sheep are herded throughout the four months of summer and shepherds live semi-nomadically with their families in just two or three small camps.
It was 30 minutes into the Laza leg of our hike that we came across one such camp. As we crested a hill, we saw the large blue tent constructions below us. it was guarded by dogs, of course, but a young boy came up the hill and greeted us. He kept the dogs away with his stick and walked us down to the camp, where we met his family. His grandmother was sat in one tent making bread. She was rolling dough and cooking it on a flat circular slab over a fire. She was smiling and was very happy for us to watch and even to have some bread. She handed us two folded sheets of freshly baked, warm lavash. The young boy's dad and brother arrived. I greeted the dad, answering all his questions and then we talked a bit about their life. He explained that they live in their tents for four months of the year until the end of August, which is when they return to the village. He told me that they feed the dogs on bread and meat. Sometimes they kill a sheep and feed it to the dogs. At night they bring their sheep back to the camp. During the day, the young men take them out to graze on the mountain slopes. Their summer camp was well equipped with a handful of large blue tents. They had hens, which had their own coop built from turf and boards. As we moved on, the man ordered his eldest son to escort us away from the dogs and to show us the direction for Laza.
It was a fairly straightforward hike to Laza, although much harder than the first leg, due to the route and the conditions. We followed barely visible sheep and horse trails, at times traversing tributaries to the Shahnabadchay river. Şahdağ soon passed out of sight and points of reference for compass work became fewer. All the way, however, we had the bellow and roar of the river, charging down through the valleys towards Laza. At times the fog would thicken, reducing visibility to just a hundred meters or so - such is the weather in this region. It can change within just minutes. A good 1:100000 map and a compass are just about essential.
We had a few stops to eat, or just to catch the views, then made a final slog up to Suvar and then on to Laza. As we walked into the village of Laza, the fog thickened, but not enough to conceal the bright pink village store with the words 'Laza' and 'Market' blazened across it. Outside, Khalid, the village teacher, store owner and hotelier was hanging out with a couple of friends. He greeted us and offered us a room in his house for the next two nights. From then on until our departure, we had soft matresses, hot water and a constant supply of çay and food, which was ejected from the kitchen at fairly regular intervals. Khalid has two children. One son, who has a love for reality TV and çay, and one daughter, who spends her entire time taking orders from her brother. The house had other family guests staying. The women all remained concealed in one half of the house and only ever came out when one of the men ordered tea, or food. It was quite uncomfortable to sit at the table and watch a sixteen year old boy shout orders over his shoulder whilst watching TV and then completely fail to acknowledge the arrival of food and drink at his table.
The men of the family are responsible for running the village shop, which is just outside the house. Customers arrive either on foot, or on horseback and yell until somebody arrives to unlock and serve them. Meanwhile, the mother busies herself with laundry, cleaning and milking the three cows.
With what remained of the evening, we took a look around the tiny village of Laza. There really isn't far to go, so we walked slowly, photographing sheep and the mosque which emanates a dull shine from its roof through the perpetual mist which swills around the valley.