Svaneti, Georgia

Svaneti

Half-asleep in a half-empty minibus; in the background, passengers chat with the driver, the bumpy road lulls me into a daze, and with half an eye I gaze out the window at mountain peaks and tiny rooftops. Wait, why are the rooftops tiny? I wake up, still see what looks like a minibus, but there is a pilot at the controls and it is not a window at all—it is an airplane porthole. I lean closer: we are at an altitude of 2 km, right level with the snow-capped mountain peaks. The valley below stretches like a vibrant, multicolored chessboard. You can even make out a herd of cows—the view is simply incredible.

Flying via small commuter plane, a 19-seater from Tbilisi to Svaneti, a 50-minute flight. My backpack is stashed right in the damn nose of the aircraft; I was worried my 20 kg instead of the allowed 15 kg would tip the balance or a strap would catch in the propeller.

On final approach, the most astonishing and authentic view I have ever seen unfolds below. Mount Ushba, a deep gorge, a roaring mountain river, and an ancient village with stone roofs and medieval defense towers. It feels like stepping right into the Middle Ages.

Mestia is the largest and most well-developed tourist hub in Svaneti. Svaneti itself is hands down the most stunning region in Georgia. I highly recommend heading straight here and giving Svaneti as much time as possible. There are endless options for easy and moderate day hikes and multi-day treks. The abundance of glaciers and lush landscapes left a lasting impression on my soul.

There is a Tourist Information Center on the main square of Mestia; the staff speak Russian and English. You can get all the details you need regarding treks, weather conditions, water sources, and pick up a free trail map with elevation profiles and timing.

Nature here is incredibly welcoming—probably the friendliest place I have ever visited. Plenty of drinking streams, some tasting just like Borjomi mineral water, almost naturally carbonated. Trails are well-beaten and wind through gorges past ancient hamlets, alpine meadows, and wooded stretches, occasionally climbing towards mountain passes. Deadwood is abundant, so building a campfire is effortless, though I prefer trekking with a gas stove and only making a fire for the vibe where an established fire ring already exists.

Some of the most memorable moments come from the animals. In Georgia, traditional enclosures are rare; everything is compact and livestock roam freely, so it is easy to run into cows, calves, horses, pigs, and dogs in the most unexpected spots. They boldly wander over for affection, creating a wonderful sense of connection with nature and fullness of heart, like being in a giant petting zoo.

There are very few people on the trail. In late August and early September, I ran into no more than five people a day, but what incredible people they were—I made great friends with some of them. Mostly travelers from Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Israel. The locals are exceptionally warm and hospitable. I was constantly invited over; one time I accepted, and they treated me to fresh veal, poured plenty of wine, and tipsy as I was, I could barely carry my backpack afterward))). I spent about 6 weeks traveling solo across Georgia, hitchhiking and wild camping in my tent near villages, roads, gas stations, along the coast, and even in central Batumi—Tbilisi was the only place I didn't pitch a tent. The sense of complete safety was remarkable; by the end of the trip, I could easily pitch my tent in a public park knowing no one would bother me at night or show any aggression. I even worried less about my gear than usual. Credit goes to the police reform—they are everywhere now, even in the tiniest villages, well-equipped and extremely helpful. Officers often stopped by just to check if everything was fine, offered rides, or helped me hitchhike.

There are plenty of guesthouses and backyard campsites for tents, usually with hot showers and Wi-Fi, as well as hostels, with rates starting from 600 RUB per person per night. You can pitch a tent right in the central park, though it gets noisy and crowded. Alternatively, you can head down to the river or hike just outside town.

Quite by chance, I met a genuinely kind soul who showed me his defensive tower; we even climbed up onto the roof. Later, I stayed at his place, sleeping on fresh hay inside a 5th-century outbuilding. The place is called Teo Guesthouse and Camping in Mestia.