I have had the privilege of observing the enigmatic man, arms outstretched, one leg bent, bis torso half-covered by a two-pointed flag, emerging from the snow on the mountain “wall” opposite our Etseri house each July. I learned the story of how the Svans in the area believed that whichever part of him lasts the longest before melting, the village it points to will have the best fortune in the coming year.
I wrote the story, too, of how the young men of Etseri used to trek up that steep wall with shovels, only in order to try to twist good luck their way by breaking up all the other parts to make them melt faster, leaving only the straight leg pointing down towards our village. This is all true; they really did this, though they no longer do now. But my account of how the Dancer is really alive, and tries to warn the youths of their foolishness by avalanching down on them but letting them survive… that’s my own invention.
Having known the Dancer’s history for a few years now, I have documented photographically his coming and going ever since. All the snow on the Wall melts in the hot summer sun, with the exception of the peak and glaciers of Mount Lamaria, which is higher and further back than the Wall itself, though appearing joined to it. But this year might be the first time I have been here to see the very day when exactly nothing is left of the Dancer. This allows me to test the story of which of his extremities, left to natural processes, will actually survive the longest. Today is the day, as I write this, when that smallest dot vanishes.
I have also seen, and need to add the detail into my story, that if the Dancer ever feels like leaving the question frustratingly open, he can. All he has to do is summon cloud towards the end of his yearly life, hide behind it, and do his final melting unseen. This capriciousness seems to be rare, however, although there is nothing but the averages of weather to gainsay it.
I check from the windows of our house each day… see his form slowly distinguish itself from the rest of the snow… observe the days when it is at its best, truest to form… then notice how it gets smaller and breaks up into pieces, bit by bit, with agonizing patience. There has not yet been a July when a freak snowstorm has turned back time on the Wall. Nor one when unending rain has hastened the Dancer’s demise. (The disastrous July blizzard of 1928, I think it was, recorded on film in Salt for Svanetia and available on Youtube, may or may not have altered things here. Ditto the terrifying three weeks of late winter 1986/7, during which the snow fell here without stopping and you could walk off the roof of our two-story house straight onto snow. I haven’t yet asked about these two freak years).
Another thing which might affect the Dancer’s annual arrival and departure is Climate Change. Time will tell. Yet another factor is the usually slow but sometimes sudden erosion of the nearly vertical, thin layers of slate comprising much of the Wall. If a big enough section collapsed from meltwater getting into those layers and then freezing, the Dancer might go for good, or become someone or something else entirely. A new legend might then be born too.
I have to seize my moments, in summer, between helping my wife look after anywhere from zero to 25 or so guests a day in our home, booked in advance or showing up (smaller numbers only) unplanned, taking their chances. But the taking of a photo is quick, and the procession of clouds and sunlight slow, so I usually can squeeze in a few seconds a day for my recording.
And now I can report that, assuming this year to be typical, it’s close but definite: left to his own devices, the Dancer’s downward pointing leg, directed to Etseri, will just barely survive longest of all. Whatever this means.
Blog by Tony Hanmer
Tony Hanmer has lived in Georgia since 1999, in Svaneti since 2007, and been a weekly writer and photographer for GT since early 2011. He runs the “Svaneti Renaissance” Facebook group, now with over 2000 members, at www.facebook.com/groups/SvanetiRenaissance/
He and his wife also run their own guest house in Etseri: www.facebook.com/hanmer.house.svaneti
