A few days in Svaneti: Where I am reminded that I don't spend enough time among mountains and forests.

Coming off of a solo travel slump, I was excited for a change of scenery as I headed up to Svaneti, a region in the mountains of northern Georgia. The crazy ride into the mountains and up, up, up, was already worth it. Living in Kansas and Minnesota for almost my entire life, I’m still enamored by and in awe of mountain ranges. Especially snow-capped ones! P.S., you’d be surprised to learn how many people think that Minnesota has mountains. I think they confused it with Montana. P.S.S. Minnesota is flatter than Kansas. Google it folks.

Tacky tourist photo :D

I arrived in Mestia about eight and a half hours after I left Batumi. I checked into Roza’s guesthouse, highly recommended by several sources, chilled for a bit, then immediately resolved to end my solo travel slump. Fortunately, as I headed into town for dinner I ran into Ben, an English dude also staying at Roza’s. I asked him to join me for dinner, and for the next two nights we ate at the same place together, Cafe Laila. It had great, affordable Georgian food, and live music, which was a lot of fun until the dancer with the group tried to get me to dance with him- something I am vehemently opposed to.

One of the Svan protective towers common in Mestia

My first full day in Mestia was a little up in the air. I knew I was going to take the ski lift up to the top of one of the mountains and hike around a bit. Turns out there are two lifts- one more recently built, and the views were great. I made it to the top around 11, but that didn’t stop me from having a piece of boiled milk cake and an Americano on the terrace of the highest restaurant in Georgia. The views were hard to describe, but I’m glad I got there before hoards of tourists arrived via lift so I had the place to myself for a little while.

I started to wander around the top of the mountain before going back down on the lift, but ended up running into four French hikers who had an actual plan to walk down half the mountain to the beginning of the second lift. I asked if I could join them and we had a great few hours together. With my limited French and their combined knowledge of English, we conversed about travel, life, family, love, all those things I really enjoy talking about with total strangers (seriously!). This was the cure for my solo travel blues. I was happy to be with them, and even more happy to have lunch with them before they took off for Kutaisi. 

The next day was my “big hike day”. I planned to hike to the Koruldi lakes, one of the more popular day hikes around Mestia. My dinner buddy Ben had warned me that it was a tough one, but I don’t think I really understood until I was huffing up a steep incline under the mid morning sun. The views were only getting more and more beautiful, but the hike itself was a physical and psychological exercise. Thankfully I ran into a nice Israeli family who had just returned from the cross (the midpoint of the hike) and gave me a walking stick that I used diligently to get myself closer to the top. 

View from the bottom, basically

I made it to the Jeep track (you can pay to have someone drive you up to the cross or the lakes) and found a spring with fresh water to wash my sweaty, sticky face. A jeep pulled over and someone asked if I wanted a ride to the cross. I couldn’t say no, so I hopped in, stick and all. The man who invited me in, Vincent, was also French, and owns a paragliding business. He drives people to the top of the cross, and together they paraglide down and around the valley. In the backseat was Vitali, a local who was the lucky paraglider today, and also the owner of a local bar. 

They were nice enough to drop me off at the cross and point me towards the lake, only an hour away. But with the sun and steepness of the trail that led to the lakes, it felt like forever. I was really struggling, stopping every thirty paces or so to catch my breath. But I finally made it! Near the end I ran into an Aussie who was not struggling as much as I was, and we walked to the finish together. The lakes themselves were not that exciting- but the reflection of the surrounding mountains into the water was definitely worth it. I chilled for a bit, snapped a few photos, had a snack, and headed back down.

On the way back down, I took a shortcut through the forest, which was also a struggle. I honestly prefer walking uphill than down- I prefer to lose my breath over potentially falling/sliding/tripping down, if that makes sense. Regardless, seven hours after I started. I made in back to Mestia. I immediately bought and downed a giant bottle of Borjomi before heading back to my guesthouse.

That night I had plans to meet up with a German I met through Couchsurfing hangouts and a Russian woman I met on the hike down. We had dinner together at a restaurant, but I was so exhausted, sunburned, and nauseous that I had to cut my time with them short. I was feeling pretty crappy and hoping it wasn’t sun poisoning or heat stroke, so I took a few ibuprofen and anti-nausea pills and headed to bed.

I woke up feeling much better, which was good since I had plans to take a day trip to Ushguli, one of the highest permanent settlements in Europe. Funny enough, the Aussie I ran into at the lakes, Richie, was on the same day trip. We, along with three crabby old English women who were complaining about everything, drove the two-ish hours through the mountains to an even more remote area of Georgia. It was a beautiful drive. The landscape around Ushguli was also totally surreal. Richie and I wandered around together before eating lunch. The grilled trout was superb. 

That night after getting back to Mestia I stopped by the bar that Vitali (from the Jeep) owned, and Vincent the paraglider was there with a Swiss dude who was also in town to do some paragliding. We had dinner together, and later I drank wine with my Ushguli tour guide Dato and his friend Giorgi before making my tipsy way back to Roza’s for the last night.

The next morning I hopped on a marshurtka for what I thought would be an eight-hour bus ride back to Tbilisi. However, due to some unforeseen stops including some maintenance work in Zugdidi, we made it back ten hours later. I wasn’t really annoyed, if anything it made me nostalgic for the Balkans, where like Georgia anything can happen on public transit. I checked back into Fabrika Hostel, enjoyed a much-needed veggie bento box after four straight days of heavy Georgian food, and hit the hay before heading out east to Khaketi, Georgia’s wine region, the next day.

A final #snapfromthebus goodbye

More hiking adventures ahead!

To be continued,

Sophie