Two unexpected hiking partners
Experiencing Georgian hospitality, meeting two loyal companions, learning more about tea, and collecting perfect summer days
Our goal for Georgia was to visit different places than those we’d go to with Derrick in August. With this in mind, it should have been no surprise when we found ourselves about to start a hike that had next to no information about it online.
We arrived at our guesthouse in Oni, thinking maybe the owner could give us some more information about the hike we’d only very briefly heard about. We were met by a sweet grandma who didn’t speak a bit of English, yet still managed to bring us a cup of tea and smile through gestures. We weren’t able to gather any information to help us plan our next day, so instead we went for a walk. Oni is a tiny town, the last form of human life at the very end of a 210km road before the mountains completely take over. As we walked to the very endpoint of the road, we saw a sign which we realized was the starting point of the hike. While standing there reading about the conditions of the hike, we both looked around us and noticed snow on all of the mountains. But surely the snow on our mountain won’t still be there? It’s already June and probably melted by this point we thought.
A quick google search taught us that this year Georgia had experienced a particularly heavy snowfall. So there we stood, slightly panicked. We’d driven 4 hours to this remote town, excited for this multi-day hike that we centered our plans around, only to realize it would almost certainly be partly covered in snow. Calling us unprepared would have been generous. “Stupid” probably fit better.
Here was our situation - we had no snow gear and very little understanding of what the peak of this mountain would bring us. We decided we’d try the hike the next day, but stop if we reached unsettling conditions. No need to go the whole length of the hike to the alpine lake. Happy with our plan, we had a little picnic of leftovers for dinner and walked back to our guesthouse. A lucky dog along the way got our extra cheesy bean bread.
The next morning, we walked past this same Lexi-like dog on the way to the start of our hike. She was jumping for joy at the sight of us - probably because she expected more cheesy bread and bean bread. Alongside her was another shy and gentle mama dog, constantly keeping her distance out of a precaution. The two dogs guided us to the trailhead, and to our surprise began to hike with us. They were so patient, stopping every few minutes with us while we (Jovan is catching a stray here, it was really all me) needed to take a break from the elevation gains.
We both agreed this was one of our most mentally challenging hikes ever, not only was the elevation gruesome and at a 30% grade for much of the hike, but also there were insane swarms of flies. Imagine us dying on steep uphills only to have to keep going without stopping because there were 20+ flies swarming us at all times. The heat was also brutal, and we kept motivated by the idea that once we get above the tree line, we’ll be at high enough elevation to where the flies will drop off.
The two dogs staying with us the entire time made everything so much more bearable, as their sweetness and loyalty gave us something to distract ourselves. We just kept wondering when they’d call it quits and turn back for Oni. But they stayed with us the entire time, even once we reached a natural stopping point before the snow and set up camp. Here are the sweet loyals guarding our tent for us after a much needed post-hike nap:
The reward of our campsite made the grueling journey worth it. There is nothing that makes you feel as small as resting your head next to a running stream , only you and the huge mountains on all sides of you.
We hadn’t brought much food with us since we had just planed for one night. We had some nuts, dried fruit, apples, and granola. The dogs had been so sweet guiding us the whole way, and we couldn’t help but give them 80% of the food we brought. Still, we wished we had more stuff with us to give them. But, this was good enough for their journey back to Oni.
Except.. the next morning we woke up and there they were laying outside of our tent. It warmed our hearts so much that we had decided we needed to reward them with a feast after hiking back to Oni. Sadly, there were no grocery stores or restaurants open unless we drove 45 minutes into the next town. It was a no brainer. I stayed with the dogs, telling them to be patient and that Jovan would be back soon. After 1.5 hours, he was back with their feast: tuna, beef sticks, bananas, bread, and cheese. They were so happy, and so were we. We said bye to our new friends, and headed on a 3 hour road trip to Kutaisi, a city where we’d have a rest and go to some natural springs.
Our road trip there was much like what we’d experienced in the rest of Georgia - endless stretches of beautiful wild flowers, cows grazing, pigs walking the streets, and mountain backdrops. The drives alone could be a highlight of our time there, only made better with all of the great podcast series we listened to along the way: love trapped, the salt path, and sea of lies.
When we reached Kutaisi, we met the kindest host who spoke no English, but greeted us so warmly with cookies and peaches. When he realized we were sitting out on the terrace resting, he brought us his homemade wine, chacha, and cherries from the garden.
This Georgian warmth was felt along our whole journey. Just two days before, our guesthome owner in Bojormi knocked on our door in the morning as we were packing up. We opened it to find her standing there, smiling with a plate of homemade pancakes in her hands. She told us she was leaving for the day, but to eat breakfast before we left. It’s the thoughtfulness in gestures like this that feels incredibly meaningful to us. Though we aren’t having many conversations or meeting other travelers through these stretches of perhaps less-traversed places, we feel immense connection through the small, everyday kind acts.
We drove an hour to a natural sulfur bath just in time for sunset. We enjoyed the remote landscape as the skies turned pink and purple and our muscles got a soothing rest. We were joined by a group from Russia, who spoke next to no English yet were able to ask us where we were from. “US?” one of them said, “my girlfriend is from there.” We asked him where in the US, and to my absolute shock he said “Indianapolis.” We weren’t able to communicate much further, but I remained confused on the ride home. We’re in Georgia, in the middle of nowhere sulfur spring, meeting a group from Russia, and they have a connection to Indiana.
I hope I can always remember the feeling of that drive back to Kutaisi. It was actually a really small moment, but it brought me a lot of gratitude. We drove with the windows down, the most perfect warm summer evening air helping to dry my hair. I was thinking that everyday of our travels just feels like the most perfect summer day. It feels like being a kid again when you’re on summer break. The day stays light for a long time and the day is full of fun activities. By the end of the day, you’re tired but so content and ready to do it again the next day. Our travels felt to me in that moment like we have been collecting endless summer days.
One of our next days embodied this feeling more than any other in Georgia. We were visiting Bakhmaro, another very small town. The drive in was mind blowing, we were climbing switchbacks up the winding roads with views like this:
The town looked almost abandoned, with windows shattered on many of the houses. We learned that people only live there seasonally, because the winter season brings enough snow to cover most of these houses clearing the roofs, hence the damage:
Our time here felt peaceful, like just smelling the air could cut our resting heart rates in half. We were surrounded by Spruce and fir trees, and we watched the stream in the center of the town as horses rode by.
Near sunset time we went for a little walk up a hill called sunset hill. We were amazed by the beauty here - horses roaming on green hills surrounded by coniferous trees and fields of flowers. The unique microclimate here reminded us of SLO in how the sea air met the hills, often creating a blanket of clouds in the summertime. As we climbed the hills and looked out to where the sea should be, we were met with this cloud layer that felt like we were on top of the world. It was so beautiful and serene that it brought tears to Jovs eyes.
Our last few days in Georgia were spent near the Black Sea region called Guria, which has a unique microclimate of its own. Between the sea breezes and lower Caucasus mountains lies a foggy, humid region that lends itself to being the perfect environment for growing tea. In fact, Georgia was the 5th largest producer of tea during its Soviet era back in the 90s. This tiny country was a powerhouse. Until it wasn’t. When the USSR collapsed, Russia took with it its tea contracts, leaving behind a huge community of Georgians left with all of these tea leaves, but nobody to sell them to. We visited an abandoned tea institute, which someone we met compared to seeing a US collage campus like Harvard completely abandoned. The tea institute was where many scientists worked and studied, a once thriving and lively place.
As we drove through the region, we noted many abandoned buildings that used to be production facilities, and a lot of abandoned land where tea cultivation once flourished. We saw the many Soviet relics, like intricate murals, statues, and old brutalist apartments.
We visited a tea plantation, one of the 8 or so in the region that was established a few years ago to try and bring tea tourism into the area and grow back this industry. The family that ran the tea tour was fascinating. The grandmother worked at this tea institute for 30 years, and researched anything and everything related to tea, even garnering a PhD in tea. Her daughter now cultivates tea, but only for friends and family consumption as there still isn’t much market for selling. We stayed here for 5 hours, learning and tasting. The property was peaceful, and we relaxed at one point in their amazing bamboo forest that they’ve been growing for 70+ years.
Our time in Georgia was nearing a close, but not before one last scenic drive back to Tbilisi. We decided to go the long way, where we’d see a different area with a sunset viewpoint over the clouds. Well, the roads were not roads. They were dirt paths with rocks of different sizes, huge potholes, and narrow pathways - sometimes needing to accommodate both us and the handful of local vans that were moving in the other direction. It felt like one long rollercoaster we got duped into signing up for. It all became worth it for the views. Except it didn’t, because it was completely foggy, which made sightseeing impossible and driving all the more difficult. But, the light at the end of the tunnel came 4 hours in, when the fog cleared, as did my car-sick induced headache.
The views were opening up as we were descending, and it was clear enough for me to see the thousands of wild strawberries growing alongside the roads. We stopped the car to forage. These delectable little strawberries were the side of a tic tac - tiny! But they were fully ripe and tasted like pure candy. We both agreed, this almost made taking the long way worth it.
We spent our last day in Tbilisi, a slow day spent at our favorite coffee shop where we began to feel inspiration in the endless life possibilities that travel gives us the space to recognize. We researched future career ideas, and felt appreciation that we could dream freely without constraints of the system designed for us at home. We were ready to keep dreaming as we prepared to leave the next day for Armenia.
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