Back on the Côte via Champagne

 *** Boring post alert. If you couldn't give a stuff about wine I suggest you stop here! ***

In 2021 when the first COVID restrictions were lifted I high-tailed it to France with a bicycle and had a jolly time cycling around Burgundy. Back then I included the same warning as above, and even though there is some bird content I've done so again.  I've been hankering to repeat the trip, this time with Mrs L. She, after all, dragged me up the east coast from Newcastle to Fife, thus repeating a trip she had done a number of times with children - it felt like it was my turn. And so when half term came along in May (yes, I'm behind again) we put our bikes in the back of the car and drove down to the Channel Tunnel. By lunchtime we were in Champagne eating a picnic lunch in a park having raided a small supermarché somewhere near Reims. The weather was glorious, but unlike being in London and having to suffer no airconditioning and public transport I was sat under a tree near a pond drinking cool apricot juice and eating goats cheese.

With nothing organised until the following day we spent the afternoon chilling out and doing very little until our evening reservation came up and we found ourselves on a nice terrace with a cool glass. The air remained warm well into the evening, as we returned to our accomodation down by the Marne in Bisseuil we realised how lucky we were. I even found time to go birding for a bit in the evening and the following morning, with Nightingale singing alongside the river, Redstart and Grey Wagtail near the bridge, and lots of House Martin over the village.

The following morning, at 9am, we were tasting Champagne. This is not ideal, but equally it beats many other things I could be doing at 9am. I can be quite disciplined when I need to be ( and very undisciplined when the opportunity arises) and made ample use of the spittoon. Sadi Malot is a lovely small grower, quite understated and with a good range of primarily Blanc-de-Blancs, that is to say Champagne made exclusively from white grapes, usually chardonnay. Better still they had halves, and half a bottle of Champagne on, say, a Wednesday night is very hard to beat. It was racy stuff, especially the low dosage cuvées, indeed if you are partial to Grande Marque Champagne like Pol Roger and so on you may find this style a little austere. But it is taut, fresh and incredibly pure, laser-like in some cases. Here is my note on the Brut Authentique which is a nice middle ground.

This is cut from the same cloth as the Zero, another BdeB with that same energy and vitality, but with a bit of dosage (4.3) and more importantly, wood raised rather than stainless steel. This rounds it out a bit and makes it less piercing and more enjoyable, at least on its own. Disgorged mid-2025, so very young. Crucially it is also bottled in halves. Amazing value at the cellar door. Tasted at the Domaine.

I am not exactly Winston Churchill but I always feel I ought to drink more Champagne than I do, and that it should be thought of more like a normal bottle of wine, albeit fizzy, rather than something that is rolled out on special occasions. Half bottles may help me break this cycle.

A propos of nothing at all, it was Rhubarb season. I am very partial.

"Extra"

We stopped in at another house not too far away, Vazart-Coquart, having had a bottle of theirs randomly in a restuarant in London earlier in the year. Also based primarily on Chardonnay their wine was also quite strict and precise, includin the rosé. As luck would have it they too sold halves and so we used up our remaining sparkling allowance on some of these plus a few presents to take home. We had another lovely picnic lunch somewhere or other, and then got in the car for the slog down to Burgundy where I had managed to book the same accomodation in Beaune as in 2021, right on Place Carnot. This had very nearly fallen through at the 11th hour, a week or so before travelling I had received a mysterious message saying my booking had been cancelled. It had indeed been cancelled, but for the most absurd of reasons - the middle man had been fired. As with many things in Burgundy everyone is in the chain, everyone takes a cut. I had booked - and paid! - not the accomodation directly, but with an agent - there is some technical name - who managed the property on the owner's behalf. When for whatever reason that relationship fell apart and he was replaced with a different person he and all his bookings vanished. Incredible! A short phone call to the old agent as needed to establish this set of facts, but it did get me 1) my money back and 2) the phone number of the new agent. From what I could gather no actual reservation had ever been made by the first guy but through good fortune alone the property was still available on the dates we were travelling, albeit that the underground parking had been snaffled by someone else. A bit of a pain, but Beaune has plenty of free parking outside the ring road and we were able to dump the car and forget about it for a few days without spending a cent.

That evening we had an aperitif close by, a couple of glasses of young Pinot Noir, one from David Moreau and the other I cannot now remember as I did not take a note. Then we went for dinner at La Lune, something I had been looking forward to for ages. It is a tiny establishment with under 20 covers, most along a long counter, run by a Japanese genius called Seiichi Hirobe. The food is tapas style with every dish cooked there and then. The chef does every part of the cooking behind the counter so you can see what is happening at each stage, orders and drinks are dealt with by his assistant Antoine. Meticulous preparation is what is happening, what this man cannot do with a knife is not worth knowing. Dishes may come quickly, or may come after some time, and possibly in a different order than you expect, but none of this matters, the food is sensational. Book ahead. A long time ahead, and be prepared to confirm you are still coming the day of your booking or you could lose out.

Given where we were the wine list is so-so and quite short, the prices in Burgundy must make it impossible for small restaurants who cannot tie up loads of capital in a lengthy wine list, but we found a decent bottle of Chassagne from J-C Bachelet and sat down to enjoy the show. Being fusion cuisine there is a lot of fish and shellfish and we were extremely happy with this. Goodness me it was good, particularly the tuna. Although not techinally a fish something called chicken kariage was also incredibly delicious. I try not to sit in restaurants taking photos of my dinner but here, and indeed for a few of the meals on this trip I made the odd exception, it was just too good. We fairly rolled back to Place Carnot. Tomorrow though we would have to work for our lunch as we were cycling the southern Côte de Beaune just as I had done a few years back. Mrs L does not rhapsodise about vineyards in quite the same way I do, how would she take it?

Drought

I have never known Wanstead so dry. As is quite normal I avoided the patch for the entire month of June, but this year the apathy extended well into July and I did not make my first visit until the 26th. It was so poor that I put local birding on hold for what turned out to be virtually a whole month and did not return to the patch until late August. During this period no rain fell. When I finally ventured out again it was cataclysmic. 

Visually it is brown and beige, parched and dusty. But for me it is the smell that really stands out. It smells dead. Burned and broken. There is actually - miraculously - very little fire damage, we have had a lot worse, but it smells in a way I find difficult to describe. Dessicated, hollow, a shadow. 

The ponds are the worst bit. Alexandra Lake has for years been losing water, but 2026 is a real low. Literally. A Mallard could walk to the island at this point, there is so little water. And as the water has receded so the true nature of Alex has been revealed - a grim litany of the presence and lack of care of people. Of us. Personally I have not dropped any litter, but there is nothing like a drought to expose the fecklessness of humankind. The mud is not a nutricious mud, it holds little attraction to birds of any kind, it is just a landscape of exposed detritus and it has never looked more disgusting than it looks now. I couldn't even bring myself to photograph it, you will just have to imagine it.

Visaully it looks like autumn. Trees and bushes have dried up, leaves have been prematurely discarded, some may be dead. It is tragic. Bushes that in a normal year have had a good crop of berries either have a few hard and miniscule fruits or have nothing. Insects seem to have largely disappeared and combined with the lack of fruit the bird activity is low. Warblers are very scarce indeed, one or two Blackcap where in a normal year you would expect double figures. 

Is this the new normal? I lost count of the number of heatwaves there were. Five I think, prolonged periods of over 30 degrees. At times it felt like London was uninhabitable. The speed with which this change has come about is unthinkable. Predicted by a few, ignored by many, this would seem to be the future. Awful. My parents, unwittingly, avoided it by moving to Scotland. I spent a week up there recently and it was a blessed relief. For all the years of jokes about Scottish weather it now appears that people travel up there for it, how about that for a turnaround. The diehard low-carbon brigade are doubtless crowing, but this path was set long before they even existed. It might have happened earlier than had been anticipated, but this was always going to be the result of decades of accelerated and uninhibited growth. When my children are my age what will it be like? All we can do at this stage is make the best of it and if that sounds defeatist it is. No answers, the collective will isn't there, will never be there. Too selfish. But frankly what used to happen elsewhere is now happening here. Will that change anything? I doubt it.  This summer has had me doubting whether living in London is a viable future for us, the city is emminently unsuited to it. I'm looking north at this point I think, I suspect many are. At least I have somewhere to go. 

My relationship with glasses

My relationship with glasses can be summed up in three words. I hate them. 

I cannot now remember when I first required them, it is a good few years ago, but I recall my arms gradually getting shorter and shorter to the extent I couldn't hold my phone far enough away to read it. A heavy squint and I could maybe get there, but it was time. Possibly I was in my late forties. I went for an eye test.

It turns out that visual acuity and eyesight are two different things. My prescription came back as +0.25 in one eye and precisely zero in the other. Naturally the optician tried to sell me a pair of glasses for around £300. Fortunately I was still somewhat in disbelief, sceptical that a young man such as myself could actually need glasses, and I decided to sleep on it. 

In the morning I ordered the specified presription from SpecSavers. Buy one get one free. I went through the rigmarole of measuring my nose with a credit card and choosing a "style" to suit my face. Absurd, nothing suits my face. Anyway, I eventually chose a regular pair and then as the free option, some sunglasses, both with 2x reading magnification built in. They were a revelation. All of a sudden I could read again, see a computer screen again using a normal font size, hold a phone closer than a metre from my face. 

About two months later I left both in a hire car in Mexico. Back to SpecSavers I went, this time going for just a single pair that looked approximately like the last ones. I can't recall how long these lasted but something happened and one of the arms bent such that the glasses sat at a jaunty angle on my face for a while, and then one day snapped off altogether. For a while I survied on gaffer tape, then just the one arm, but ultimately it wasn't a good look at work and I returned to SpecSavers for the third time in just over a year. I cannot begin to describe how pissed off I was when these then vanished into the ether one day, never to be seen again. What do I need to do, glue them to my ears?

Fed up with spending £65 a pop I went to Boots, and forgoing the 0.25x prescription in my left eye bought a pair of off the shelf reading glasses for just £15. They were great, indistinguishable from the prescription pair as far as I could tell, and lasted a suprisingly long time. Eventually of course the arm fell off and I was back where I started, but it was easy enough to go back to Boots. At one stage I even had two pairs as one day I arrived in the office without them and had to make an emergency shopping trip in order to be able to actually do any work. I sat on these ones I think, bent beyond repair, and the other pair lasted approximately four months before they fell off my forehead whereupon I immediately trod on them. The final pair from this era are somewhere in the garden. They also fell off my head, but I couldn't retreive them as I was in transit through a flowerbed with both hands otherwise occupied. I'll pick those up on my way back I thought to myself. Could I find them?

I don't know how many pairs this is, I may have missed some off. Suffice to say it is incredibly annoying each and every time. The solution however has turned out to be much simpler than I had envisaged - I buy them in bulk, five packs from Amazon are so cheap that I can toss them into corners of the garden at will. And as soon as I owned five pairs of reading glasses I never lost another pair. I have two on the go at the moment, one on the bedside table for doom-scrolling in the evening, and then another on my desk which come with me to work and that I am wearing now as I type this. Three pairs, each with a different colour frame, wait patiently in reserve - though it has been so long I no longer know exactly where - for the day when the next accident befalls me. This may never now happen.

So, with the problem of actually keeping hold of a pair of glasses seemingly now solved, is the annoyance behind me? No. Far from it. The list of grievances is long and varied. Where did I put them? Are they on my forehead? Are they in my patch pocket? Are they hanging on my shirt? My life revolves to the contant beat of gentle pats as I try and work out where they are. And can I keep them clean? Can I hell. I remember now with quite some guilt the hard time I gave Henry as a little boy, amazed that his glasses could constantly be so smeared as to be virtually opaque. How on earth could he possibly get them so dirty all the time? I still don't know the answer to this but it happens to me too and it is infuriating. Finger prints without touching them? You betcha. Smears, spots, grease, you name it. I have discovered how to clean them though - forget expensive sprays, wipes, technically advanced microfibre cloths. Washing up liquid and a bit of hot water work every time. A quick squeeze of Fairy on each lens, rub between forefinger and thumb, rinse and done. When each pair costs just £3.40 (no, really) you don't need to give it much thought.

What about usage though? Well this is the most annoying part. For a birder a constant tangle of binocular straps and sometimes camera stuff. For the regular person (which birders are too, mostly), seat belts, pens, layers of clothes. Everything gets in the way, everything requires this extra step. See bird through bins. Record bird on e.g. eBird, pat pat pat, glasses out. Someone shows you a photo. Oh, hang on. Two secs, pat pat pat, ah here we are. Yes? Oh your screensaver has now come on. On. Off. On. Off. Five times in a minute is perfectly normal when it comes to needing to look through your glasses simply to be able to function like a regular human being. The squint is the shortcut, but check those bird lists carefully. Wanstead has had Black Tern and Capercaillie before now...

Driving? Yep I can see the road and the other cars fine. How fast am I going, what time is it? No idea. Need the glasses for that. Oh, where's the road? Varifocals are apparently the answer, and if my sympathetic children are any guide, a chain around my neck for my specs. I am 51 years old, a chain is simply not happening. But the sad fact is that without my glasses I am lost. They are required every minute of every day, I literally cannot now contemplate life without them. The time I waste. Everythings takes 5-10 seconds longer than it used to, than it ought to. I must lose hours and hours over the course of a year. The temptation of course is to keep them on, to push them down your nose and look over them like an aged uncle. Or simply to keep them on as you walk around. I do this in the office quite a lot. Yes everything is a bit indistinct, but the corridors are quite wide and I can generally avoid the walls if I am careful. 

There is no going back of course, they are here to stay. Probably to get thicker and thicker, more and more corrective, beyond he range of Amazon or Boots and back into expensive territory. At which point they will jump off my face and into the lawnmower or something...

The quality of writing

I have been extremely keen to finish the Georgia Trip Report, you can probably tell I rushed through the final two days. Went here, saw this, whatever. This is not blogging. Blogging is interesting, makes you think, makes you think you had thought about something and written it yourself. Gone are the days when one writer would feel motivated by another's post and pen something in response, but the last few things I have dipped into have felt a bit a like that. 

I have read some wonderful things, some beautiful things, some sad things. I was not aware for instance, until I read a post by Steve Gayle that Dylan Wrathall had passed away a number of months ago. I dipped in from time to time but must have missed that one, really gutting. He commented here on occasion, and I in turn popped onto his pages now and then. Mostly it was about fishing of course. Fishing holds little interest for me, so I was only ever the infrequent visitor but it was honest and forthright fare written from a place of quiet observation. He was much more widely read than me, seemed to keep up to date with a great many things, a real shame that his time came too soon but life is like that, unfair and shocking. His kids seem to be keeping the flame alight with their wildlife observations which is nice. If - well, when - I pop my clogs I don't see my kids continung this one, it will just shut down one day and that will be that and to the extent that any blog readers still exist, they will wonder if I simply gave up. Took up fishing again perhaps? This example came back to me recently, I was on Scilly at the Garrison, and suddenly I remembered Les Harrison (Sir LH of the Garrison, an old moniker, hence my sudden recollection) had one day given up birding almost completely and simply gone fishing instead. I have no idea if that is true or not, I think it is. I hope it is. I like the thought of how one thing can so suddenly and absolutely be replaced by another with barely any break or transition. My hobbies can be like that, there is a wide back seat somewhere behind me, things waiting in the wings for when the time is right. The joy of it is that you don't know when that will be, and unless they nag it doesn't matter. Their time will come again.

But back to the blogging and the [dwindling number of] bloggers who pen them? Who are these mysterious people, some of whom write so beautifully and have a seemingly inexhaustible supply of material? I need to make more of an effort to read this stunning output. Far better than doom-scrolling, indeed any type of scrolling. And in doing so it may encourage me in the way it once it did. What I find particularly interesting is that the content is so relatable that it encourages conversation in a way that trip reports on Georgia do not. And it's simple stuff, no great shakes - local walks, weather, reminiscences, quiet contemplation. And moths... No great thrills, no astounding revelations, no drama or intrigue, no manifestos. Connections are made, bonds are formed and reinforced. I like it. I like it a lot. And it's there waiting for me. And for you. No paywall, no adverts, no pop-ups or music suddenly blaring out. Quiet, stable, friendly, often quite deep and meaningful. In other words the complete opposite of the world that we inhabitat and the regular 'content' that is forced upon us.

Some local graffiti I took a photo of some months ago. I don't know whether this is one work or two, but I can appreciate both versions.

So what's my excuse? I don't have one, or at least not any good ones. I mean I could roll out work and time and one limiting the other but actually I do have time. But rather than read a blog I go down a Youtube rabbit hole and lose an hour. Rather than read a blog I pour a glass of something and potter off down the garden. Rather than read a blog I piddle about on a recreational spreadsheet or I look at offerings from wine lists. Rather than read a blog I add meaningless things to to-do lists. I should add "read good blogs" to the list. In fact I might do just that.

Georgia - May 2026 - Trip List

Well what a trip that was, tremendous landscapes and birding that was reminiscent of the best that Eastern Europe has to offer. With Rob at the helm with his intimate knowledge of the country (and its potholes), and having scouted out many of the locations in advance of our arrival, birding could not have been more straightforward. We covered a lot of ground in the time we had available, two trips in one really, and if time was unlimited we probably would have done double the number of days in each place, or made two individual visits out of it. Rob spent closer to three weeks in the country, and after we had returned home had a whole extra trip in a completely different part of the country with a very different set of birds. Yellow Wagtails were apparently everywhere, and whereas we failed to find a Mallard, he went to lakes carpeted with wildfowl. 

Nonetheless in our five days we saw over 180 species, and a return trip to the west of the country should see the total easily go over 200. And there are not too many places I've been to where that is the case, especially in Europe which Georgia just about is, at least in my mind. For my part I just want to continue going birding in places like this, pushing the boundaries of places I know about and places I've been. The world map is still full of many blank spaces, especially as I gaze east. Food for thought.

Georgia - May 2026 - Day 5 - Back to Kumisi, Tbilisi and home

A few of us tried the Pansheti Swimming Pool area again with much the same result as the previous afternoon. Lots of Shrikes in the buckthorn and on small isolated bushes, both Corncrake still present and correct (and hidden), and a Wheatear and a Whinchat on the central grassy area. A quick stop at the Rubbish Creek also saw repeat birds, and after a another breakfast fit for a king we departed south over the pass. There was none of the crazy traffic fro the previous day and so by half nine we were able to stop and give the area just ahead of the high point a little bit of time - the snow fields here allegedly held Shore Lark and Twite and we were keen to add these to our trip list. I can't quite remember but Twite, which is not a common bird if you live in the south east, might have been a lifer for at least one of the team. Anyway, I struck off back down the main road along the rubbish-strewn crash barrier and before long had found a couple of Shore Lark pottering about.Some small birds a little further were no doubt the Twite. Along the way I found a Nightingale in the snow which was most bizarre. I didn't give it much thought at the time, it seemed rufous enough, but once we were all back in London this was questioned as to whether it was in fact a Thrush Nightingale. Looking at the photos properly it seemed that it was!

Thrush Nightingale

I beckoned the guys over so they could see the targets, and as we all stood there in this white landscape a Caucasian Snowcock sang from the mountainside. The Shore Lark looked very different to the ones we get in the UK, much more extensive black on the face, and very white rather than yellow - indeed it is a sub-species called Black-necklaced Shore Lark - penicillata. Near what would be a bustling set of stalls selling all sorts of things in high season we found lots of Water Pipit, and Wheatear seemed to be all over the place.yet again we could hear Bee-eater somewhere above us, a reminder that many of these birds were actively heading north.

Shore Lark

From here it was a very long drive back down through the forests and back to Tbilisi. Our plan was to bird Kumisi Reservoir all afternoon - this had a lengthy list of birds that we still needed for the trip, and we felt that if we spent longer there than our brief scan on the first day we might pick a few of these up. It was less busy than last time, in particular there were virtually no fishermen on what a weekday, and so we drove from spot to spot along the southern shore where there is a mostly abandoned village of crumbling concrete - Kumisi itself it seems, a sad sight but one that is common in Georgia.

A road sign reminding us quite how far east we were!

We birded the southern edge only which is quite open. I suspect a lot of the birds are in the reeded and more marshy habitat on the northern side - I got a brief scope view of a number os Little Egrets and single Squacco over the reedbeds - but it isn't clear how you get there. Possibly you spend the whole day walking the entire circuit, but we did well enough. The highlights were a small group of Little Stint, with a Ringed Plover and Common Sandpiper for company. A tight group of small birds on the water turned out to be seven Black-necked Grebes, and flitting about the outskirts of some ruins were a pair of Eastern Black-eared Wheatear.

Black-eared Wheatear

Hoopoe

Late afternoon, flagging, we stopped at Mtisdziri Flash where TB pulled a sleeping Broad-billed Sandpiper out of the bag. There were loads of Ruff here this time, as well as Greenshank, Wood Sandpiper, Dunlin, Little Stint and Little Ringed Plover. There were over a hundred Cattle Egret, and finally - finally - a Yellow Wagtail flew over, a bird that we were amazed we could not find.

After that it was a late afternoon walk to try and add a few more species back at Ponichala - all trips end like this. We were moderately successful, with Little Bittern, Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, Middle Spotted Woodpecker and Savi's Warbler. Flush with this final hurrah we returned to the hotel at the airport for a final dinner and some celebratory beers - the flight was first thing the following morning. We had seen around 180 species in our whistle stop tour, including almost all of the major targets. It is a phenomenal country, crumbling yet beautiful, with landscapes you can't imagine. As we ate and contemplated we talked about landscapes further east that are even more sensational by all accounts. A trip to Kazakhstan might be on the cards, a country Rob knows well.... Or Mongolia.... Let's see what we can get organised.

The Snowcocks at Mt Kuso

So that's a wrap. I know, I know. It's August, we went in the latter half of May. This is what happens when you're busy and have a feckless streak. All that remains is the customary and ever-popular trip list post, and then I can put this behind me and move on to some other things. I might actually have something to say.

Georgia - May 2026 - Day 4 - Snowcocks in the Mountains

The slopes of Mount Kuro was our first port of call, seemingly everything had led to this - Caucasian Snowcock was the bird, the reason for the trip, the team logo (can't share....). This iconic bird is basically why birders come here. It is found only here, only in these mountains, and we were here to see it. 

We met Rob's mate Alex in at the bottom, where the track above the village runs out and there is a small church and a couple of places to park a vehicle. He had some clients on the go but remarkably they were asleep rather than like us raring to go. Their loss! It was not a long walk up to a small plateau, and from there we started scanning. First to fall was Caucasian Grouse, some way up the slope. I missed it due to Bob taking inordinately long in the scope which caused some short-term but ultimately unnecessary panic as they showed fairly constantly whilst we were up here. A couple of Cuckoos sat on a fence near the cars, Wheatear and Water Pipit were around, and a friendly Ring Ouzel was collecting worms for the family.

Water Pipit

Ring Ouzel

Cuckoo - hepatic

Cuckoo

Rock Thrush

Wheatear

The weather was perfect, overcast but calm and still, we could not have hoped for a much better outcome. We had really lucked out, the previous few days it had apparently unbirdable up here. The main target was soon located on sound, a mournful upslurred Curlew impression. Invisible until they took flight, after which with a bit of scanning you could locate them on the scree or the cliff face where they had landed. Always distant, my photos are literally pixels, but it didn't matter as scope views were pretty decent. Mission accomplished.

Easy huh? I've processed the spot the bird is in to make it really pop!

After a suitably stunning breakfast we made our way across the valley to Geregti Triniti Church, another famed spot. Our target here was Great Rosefinch, but despite a trudge up to the Monastery, and then up an extremely steep slope and along a ridge path at the start of what is known as the trail to the Chkheri River source we couldn't locate one despite being on the snowline. The birds were clearly higher up now. We did manage two Lammergeier, both Chough and Alpine Swift, so we were in the zone so to speak. More Mountain Chiffchaff were in the last vegetation, a Tree Pipit sang from a small bush, and Bee-eaters migrated overhead. The views were incredible, birding takes you to some amazing places that you would otherwise not ever think to go. Some of these are rubbish tips and sewage works of course, but by and large I have been privelged to visit some extraodinary places because I've been trying to see a bird there. 

Further down the valley, past another huge Chinese dormitory, we explored the buckthorn scrub near a rectangular pool known as Pansheti Swimming Pool. The birding here was really good, with lots of Barred Warblers, tons of Shrikes, singing Corncrake and Black Redstart being the highlights. What Corncrakes were doing here I cannot say, it just felt incredibly bizarre, yet there were two crexxing away. You forget quite how loud they when they are close but despite a bit of a vigil we couldn't find them.

Long-tailed Tit (caudatus)

Mountain Chiffchaff

Red-backed Shrike

Stepantsminda Valley. Typical Georgian building.

A Dipper was seen near the sluice at the Kazbegi Hydropower plant, with more along the river at Sno Gorge which also had a number of Common Sandpiper but overall birding during the day was quite quiet. We had another crack at the mountain specialities towards the end of the day. seeing likely the same birds as earlier in the day, and had better views of Rock Thrush. As we descended a Nightjar churred and we got great views of Red-fronted Serin feeding in the weeds by the side of the road.

Red-fronted Serin

We had another ridiculously good dinner complete with a new shape of dumpling that were as good as the first but far too filling. The spread was immense, what a place! Then an early night before an early night ahead of our final day. We planned to do a bit of birding in the valley first thing before heading back over the pass and down to Tbilisi and a final afternoon of birding.