Green Cosmos of Racha: How My Sister and I Discovered Wild Georgia Far from Tbilisi

Escape to the Rachan Alps: Why We Decided to Bypass Batumi and Kazbegi

The idea for this trip was born on a rainy spring evening as my sister Olya and I sat in our kitchen, weighing options for our summer vacation. We both desperately craved silence, majestic peaks, and untouched nature, but without the tourist crowds, packed buses, and endless ticket lines. Popular Georgian routes like the Georgian Military Road, Kazbek, or beachside Batumi were ruled out almost instantly. We were looking for something secluded, green, and wonderfully remote. That is how the Racha region appeared on our map — a place that Georgians themselves call their Switzerland, but where mainstream tourists rarely venture due to challenging logistics.

We began researching the details, combing through forums and reading the few available backpacker reports. It turned out that Racha was perfect for our goals: it features dense coniferous forests, karst caves, rushing rivers, glaciers, and practically no flashy hotels or noisy entertainment hubs. Our main focal points became the small town of Oni and the tiny mountain village of Shovi, surrounded by centuries-old fir trees. We firmly decided to spend all ten days of July alone with this rugged yet enticing nature, traveling on foot and by local off-road vehicles.

Preparation required special attention to gear. Since we planned to hike extensively along the trails of Shaori National Park and around Shovi, we needed high-quality trekking boots, membrane jackets for sudden thunderstorms, trekking poles, and reliable backpacks. We packed a detailed first-aid kit, as pharmacies are rare in deep mountain areas, and downloaded offline maps, which later saved us more than once at forest trail forks. The mood before departure was slightly anxious but filled with wild anticipation: unknown Georgia lay ahead of us.

Day 1. First Encounter with Oni and the Silence of Ancient Pines

Our journey began with our arrival in Oni, the administrative center of the historic Racha region. It is a tiny, sleepy, and incredibly cozy town nestled in the Rioni River valley at an altitude of about 800 meters above sea level. The surrounding mountains, covered with thick emerald forests, immediately let us know that we had arrived exactly where we wanted to be. The air here was so clean and dense that for the first few hours, our heads spun from the unfamiliar abundance of oxygen.

We stayed in a traditional family guesthouse that we had booked in advance. It was a two-story wooden house with a spacious balcony draped in grapevines and a huge garden where the host, Nana, grew herbs, tomatoes, and fragrant apples. Nana welcomed us as if we were close relatives she hadn’t seen in years. We were given a bright room on the second floor with a view of the snow-capped peaks of the Greater Caucasus Range visible in the distance.

After unpacking, we set out to explore the town. Oni practically has no asphalt in the traditional sense on its quiet side streets; stony roads and old stone houses with carved wooden balconies prevail. The main attraction of the town is a late 19th-century synagogue built of white stone. We spent a long time examining its facades, marveling at how harmoniously the building fits into the rugged Caucasian landscape. The streets were empty, with only occasional locals passing by, nodding to us warmly.

For lunch, we headed to a small home-style cafe near the central square. This was our first introduction to Rachan cuisine, which differs noticeably from general Georgian fare. We ordered the famous lobiani with ham (rachuli lori). It is a bean-filled flatbread, but the secret of its incredible taste lies in the addition of smoked pork shoulder, slow-cooked in a stone oven. The taste exceeded all expectations: savory, hearty dough, tender beans, and a subtle smoky aroma. We washed it down with local tarragon lemonade.

After a hearty lunch, we walked along the banks of the wild and muddy Rioni River. The water rushed at incredible speed, roaring through the valley. We found a fallen log, sat on it, and just stayed silent for about forty minutes, absorbing the sound and realizing we had finally escaped the city rush. In the evening, Nana prepared dinner for us on the veranda: homemade sulguni cheese, fresh cucumbers and tomatoes straight from the garden dressed with rich walnut sauce, and hot shoti bread.

We fell asleep with the windows wide open to the steady murmur of the river and the chirping of cicadas. The cool air descending from the mountains at night was a pleasant relief after the daytime July heat. Our first day in Racha gave us absolute peace of mind and confirmed that our decision to come here was entirely right.

Day 2. The Mirror of Racha — Shaori Reservoir and Mysterious Karst Sinkholes

The morning started with a luxurious breakfast from Nana: homemade pancakes with blueberry jam that she had gathered in the forest last year, fresh cottage cheese, and strong coffee. Today, our path lay toward Lake Shaori, a huge reservoir called the heart of Lower Racha. We arranged a ride with a local driver in an old Niva, since public transport to our desired locations is highly irregular and walking such a distance in one day is impossible.

When the car crested the mountain pass and the panorama of Shaori opened before us, it took our breath away. The vast expanse of deep turquoise water was surrounded by dense forests pressing right to the water's edge. The trees reflected in the lake so clearly that it felt as if the world had turned upside down. The water was absolutely calm, without a single ripple. The driver dropped us off on one of the wild shores, agreeing to pick us up closer to evening.

My sister and I decided to explore part of the shoreline on foot. There were no managed beaches, sun loungers, or noisy cafes here—only occasional fishermen in rubber boats. We walked along a soft carpet of pine needles, breathing in the mixed scent of pine and damp earth. Occasionally, we came out onto small sandy spits where the water was warm and clear. Olya even risked taking a swim, although the water in Shaori remains refreshing even in the height of summer.

The main goal of today's trek was the karst sinkholes and caves hidden in the forests near the reservoir. Armed with offline maps, we turned away from the shoreline deep into the woods. The ascent was gentle, but the humidity was high due to the abundant greenery. After an hour of searching, we discovered the first sinkhole—a deep pit in the ground overgrown with ferns and moss, from which an icy chill emanated. It felt as though we had found a portal to another dimension.

We had lunch in a forest clearing using provisions we bought in the morning at the Oni market: lavash, cheese, and ripe Georgian peaches. Eating in the fresh air after several kilometers of walking made everything taste incredibly delicious. We sat on a fallen tree, listening to the knock of a woodpecker and the rustle of lizards in the grass, enjoying the complete absence of civilization.

On our way back to the meeting point with our driver, we stumbled upon the small, ancient Nikortsminda Cathedral, located slightly off the lake road. This 11th-century temple amazed us with its exquisite stone carvings on the facades. We went inside and spent a long time examining the ancient frescoes, lit only by thin beams of sunlight piercing through the narrow windows. Returning to Oni in the evening, we collapsed onto our beds, feeling a pleasant tiredness in our legs.

Day 3. Moving to Shovi and the Lost World of a Soviet Resort

On the third day, we said goodbye to hospitable Nana and headed higher into the mountains to the village of Shovi. Located at an altitude of 1,600 meters, this balneological resort was considered one of the most prestigious vacation spots during Soviet times due to its mineral springs and unique climate. The road there snaked through a narrow gorge, passing semi-abandoned villages and sheer cliffs. The higher we climbed, the cooler the air became and the more majestic the mountains appeared.

Shovi welcomed us with silence and a light fog clinging to the tops of giant fir trees. We checked into a modest wooden guesthouse run by an elderly couple, Rezo and Darejan. Our room was in the attic, and its window offered a view of three glaciers glittering under the summer sun. Inside, it smelled of wood and dried herbs. There was no internet, making it the perfect opportunity for a complete digital detox.

We set out for a walk through the grounds of the former Soviet sanatorium. Many of the wooden sleeping quarters are now abandoned and slowly decaying, reclaimed by the forest. The place looked incredibly atmospheric and somewhat mysterious with its carved verandas, overgrown paths, and old signs. We wandered among these ghosts of the past, imagining how lively it must have been half a century ago. Nature is gradually reclaiming its territory, turning architecture into part of the forest landscape.

One of the main features of Shovi is its mineral springs bubbling straight out of the ground. The locals call them "utsera." We found several springs with different chemical compositions. The water in them was naturally carbonated, with a strong taste of iron and sulfur. It was unusual to drink but highly refreshing. We filled a bottle with cool water from a spring that, according to Rezo, is beneficial for digestion.

For dinner, we visited a small dining hall at the only functioning boarding house. They served simple but hearty food: rich kharcho beef soup with plenty of herbs, and eggplant rolls with walnut paste. Everything was home-cooked, without pretense, but immensely delicious. In the evening, we sat on the porch of our guesthouse, wrapped in warm blankets, drinking herbal mountain tea brewed for us by Darejan. The temperature dropped to twelve degrees Celsius, and for the first time in a while, we were actually cold in the summer.

Day 4. Ascent to the Foot of the Buba Glacier

We decided to dedicate this day to one of the most beautiful and challenging tracks around Shovi—the climb to the Buba Glacier. We had to gain about 800 meters of elevation along rocky paths and alpine meadows. Waking up at six in the morning, we had a hearty breakfast of syrniki and porridge, checked our water supplies, and hit the trail. The sun was barely rising behind the peaks, and the grass was covered with heavy dew.

The first part of the trail went through a dense fir forest. The climb was steep and we quickly lost our breath, but the smell of pine and the morning chill helped us move forward. We hiked at a steady pace, making small stops every half hour to drink water and check the navigator. Gradually, the forest began to thin, giving way to tall grass and alpine meadows. Here, we were met by an incredible riot of colors: blue bellflowers, yellow buttercups, and snow-white mountain daisies stretched like a carpet to the horizon.

The higher we climbed, the more grandiose the views behind us became. The Shovi valley looked like a tiny toy village squeezed between giant green folds of mountains. At some point, the trail crossed rocky scree; walking became harder as small stones shifted under our feet. Our trekking poles came in very handy here, helping us maintain our balance on the loose slope.

Finally, after overcoming the last steep ascent, we stepped onto a rocky plateau right in front of the tongue of the Buba Glacier. The feeling was indescribable: a huge wall of grey-blue ice loomed before us, radiating true winter cold. Dozens of small streams rushed down from the glacier, giving birth to mountain rivers. We stood at an altitude of about 2,500 meters, surrounded by stark grey cliffs and eternal snow, feeling like tiny specks in this majestic world.

We set up a picnic right on the rocks near the glacier. Olya pulled out a thermos of hot tea we had brewed in the morning and sandwiches with the famous Rachan ham. Never in my life had simple thyme-infused tea tasted so divine. We spent about an hour at the glacier, simply contemplating this rugged beauty and listening to the deep cracking of ice occurring somewhere deep within the mass.

The descent back to Shovi was no less difficult, as our knees quickly grew tired from the constant strain on the steep slope. We returned to the guesthouse by evening, absolutely exhausted but happy. Darejan, seeing our tired faces, immediately lit up the wood-fired bathhouse for us. The hot steam and icy water from a mountain stream brought us back to life, erasing all muscle pain.

Day 5. Secrets of Utsera and Rest by the Mineral Springs

After yesterday's difficult climb, we treated ourselves to a relaxed day. Our destination was the neighboring village of Utsera, famous for its ancient yew groves and healing mineral waters. We caught a ride with a hospitable local in an old Mercedes who agreed to drop us off in Utsera free of charge, sharing stories of his youth and Rachan traditions along the way.

Utsera turned out to be an incredibly picturesque place, stretching along both banks of the Rioni River. The main attraction of the village is a grove of relic yew trees, some of which are over a thousand years old. We entered this grove and immediately felt like characters in a fairy tale. Huge trunks covered with reddish bark and thick moss created a dense canopy through which almost no sunlight penetrated. A quiet twilight reigned in the grove, broken only by the distant roar of the river.

We spent several hours in the yew forest, simply walking along the paths and breathing in the healing air rich in phytoncides. It is believed that staying here helps treat respiratory diseases. After our forest walk, we headed to the famous mineral springs of Utsera. There are more than twenty types of springs here. We tried water from several of them, and each had its own unique taste—from mild and slightly sweet to sharp and carbonated.

We had lunch at a small family restaurant on the riverbank. We decided to try a traditional Rachan dish—shkmeruli. This is juicy chicken roasted in a clay pan called a ketsi, smothered in a rich garlic-cream sauce. The dish was served sizzling and incredibly aromatic. We dipped pieces of fresh lavash into the sauce, forgetting about everything else. The garlic aroma was so strong that we realized we shouldn't socialize with anyone else today.

The rest of the day was spent on the pebbly shore of the Rioni, watching the flow of the water and building towers out of flat stones. It was a day of absolute contemplation and recovery after heavy physical exertion. In the evening, we walked back to our guesthouse in Shovi, enjoying the sunset colors that painted the snow-capped mountain peaks in soft pink.

Day 6. The Secret Trail to the Tbilisa Glacier

Having rested in Utsera, we were ready for new achievements. This time, our route lay to the Tbilisa Glacier. This trek is considered less popular than the one to Buba, but locals assured us that the views there are even wilder and more spectacular. We had to hike along the bed of the Chanchakhi River to its source.

The trail started right outside Shovi. For the first few kilometers, we walked along a relatively flat forest road, which gradually narrowed into a barely noticeable path overgrown with ferns taller than a human. Several times we had to wade through shallow mountain streams. The water was icy, burning our feet, but it kept us awake in the morning chill. We navigated using occasional markers on rocks and trees.

Soon the forest ended, and we entered a wide stony valley flanked by two sheer rock walls. The landscape shifted abruptly to a harsh, Martian terrain. Huge boulders carried down by ancient mudslides lay scattered around, with the Tbilisa massif looming ahead. Walking on the rocks was difficult; we had to constantly leap from one boulder to another, checking their stability. Olya showed incredible agility, balancing with her trekking poles.

By noon, we reached the final point of the route—the place where the Tbilisa Glacier descends into the valley. The sight was grand and slightly intimidating. A huge tongue of grey ice, covered with cracks and stone debris, seemed like a living creature frozen in motion. From a dark grotto at the base of the glacier, a wild torrent of water rushed out with a roar, giving birth to the river. We sat at a safe distance on a huge granite boulder, mesmerized by the elements.

Our lunch consisted of traditional Georgian cheeses, lavash, and dried figs. We sat in silence, broken only by the roar of the water and the occasional cries of mountain eagles soaring high in the sky. In moments like these, you deeply feel the majesty of nature and the transience of human life. We took dozens of photos, though we knew no picture could truly capture the scale and energy of this place.

The journey back took us about four hours. We returned to the guesthouse exhausted but with a sense of accomplishment. Rezo and Darejan were already waiting for us by a campfire they had built in the yard. We spent the evening sitting by the fire, listening to Rezo's stories about the history of these lands and sipping homemade wine he made himself from grapes brought from Lower Racha. It was one of the most heartwarming evenings of our entire trip.

Day 7. In Search of Ancient Temples: Mravaldali

After spending several days in high-altitude Shovi, we decided to descend a bit lower and dedicate a day to exploring Racha's cultural heritage. Our goal was the mountain-hidden temple of Mravaldali, located at an altitude of about 1,800 meters on the crest of a scenic ridge. The road there is a steep dirt serpentine that only a prepared off-road vehicle can handle.

We used the services of our familiar driver in the Niva again. The road was extreme: the car roared as it cleared deep ruts and steep climbs, while dizzying drops flashed outside the window. A few times we thought we would get stuck, but the driver masterfully handled the vehicle, keeping our spirits up with cheerful Georgian jokes. On the way, we passed tiny, semi-abandoned villages where life seemed to have stopped a hundred years ago.

When we finally reached the top of the ridge, a view opened up that made us forget all about the difficult road. The Church of St. George in Mravaldali stood on the very edge of a cliff, offering a 360-degree panorama of all of Racha and the snowy peaks of Svaneti in the distance. It was a place of incredibly powerful energy. The temple itself, built in the 11th century and partially destroyed by a 1991 earthquake, has now been carefully restored.

We went inside the ancient church. It was cool inside and smelled of wax. Fragments of medieval frescoes and unique bas-reliefs depicting mythical animals were preserved on the walls. There were no tourists, only an old caretaker who nodded to us silently and allowed us to climb the bell tower. From the top of the tower, the wind felt like a hurricane, but the view of the endless green waves of mountains was worth any discomfort.

After visiting the temple, we had a picnic on a green slope nearby. The grass here was as soft as a luxury carpet, and the air smelled of wild thyme and sage. We lay on our backs, looking at the clouds drifting by, which seemed so close we could almost reach out and touch them. It was a day of absolute mental reset.

In the evening, we returned to Oni, deciding to spend the remaining days of our trip there, as it was more convenient for making day trips to other parts of the region. We checked back into the same guesthouse with Nana, who welcomed us like family, preparing a huge plate of steaming beef and herb khinkali for our arrival.

Day 8. Wild Trails of the Rioni River Gorge

We decided to spend this day exploring the wild trails along the bed of the Rioni River north of Oni. We didn't set specific goals like glaciers or peaks, but simply wanted to walk through remote areas where even locals rarely venture. Armed with trekking poles and a supply of sandwiches, we left the guesthouse early in the morning.

The trail led us along the left bank of the river, sometimes rising up steep rocky cliffs, then descending right to the water. The Rioni was truly wild and untamed here: murky grey waters crashed loudly against giant boulders, creating clouds of water mist. In some places, the gorge narrowed so much that the cliffs literally hung overhead, blocking out the sky. The feeling of nature's primal power never left us for a single minute.

Along the way, we stumbled upon a ruined suspension bridge that once connected the two banks of the river. The old steel cables and rotten wooden planks looked picturesque, but crossing them was highly dangerous. We took some atmospheric photos against the backdrop of this ruin, which symbolized the fading of human presence in these wild lands. We had to make a detour of about a kilometer to find a safe ford across a tributary of the Rioni.

In the afternoon, we came out onto a scenic clearing surrounded by wild blackberry bushes. To our delight, the bushes were heavy with large, ripe black berries. We spent about an hour picking and eating the sweet, slightly tart blackberries straight from the bushes. Our hands and lips quickly turned purple, but it was impossible to stop. This was the best treat of the entire trip.

We had lunch right there in the clearing, listening to the continuous roar of the river. On the way back to Oni, we got slightly lost, turning onto an old logging road, but thanks to our offline maps, we quickly found the right path. This day showed us that even without visiting famous landmarks, Racha's nature is capable of surprising and delivering incredible emotions at every turn.

Day 9. Udziro Lake of Love — The Hardest Challenge

On the ninth day, we decided to take the most extreme step of our trip—a one-day trek to the high-altitude Udziro Lake (meaning "Bottomless"). This lake is located at an altitude of 2,800 meters on the slope of Mount Katitsvera. Local residents warned us that the climb there is incredibly steep and requires excellent physical fitness, but the desire to see this wonder of nature outweighed all our fears.

We hired an experienced local guide named George, as the trail to the lake is occasionally lost among rocks and scree, and going there alone without a guide would be reckless. The climb started from the village of Glola. The first three hours were a true test of endurance: the trail went up at an angle of nearly 40 degrees through an ancient pine forest. We walked slowly, taking small steps, sweating under the hot July sun.

When the forest ended, a long climb up a steep rocky couloir began. Rocks slipped from under our feet, the sun beat down mercilessly, and the air grew thinner. Several times I wanted to turn back, but Olya's support and George's calm confidence helped us conquer meter after meter. On the final stretch, we literally had to scramble up the rocks, gripping handholds with our fingers.

But what we saw after crossing the pass was worth every single drop of sweat. Before us lay a small, perfectly round lake of deep blue water, reflecting like a mirror the majestic wall of Mount Katitsvera with the remnants of its glacier. There wasn't a single tree around, only stark grey cliffs and patches of un-melted snow. It was a place of absolute, pristine beauty, untouched by humans.

We spent about an hour and a half at the lake. Olya even dared to go to the water and wash her face—the water was icy, numbing her fingers. George brewed us strong coffee on a portable gas stove, the taste of which at 2,800 meters seemed like the pinnacle of culinary art. We sat on the shore in complete silence, feeling like champions who had conquered our own weaknesses for the sake of this unearthly beauty.

The descent back to Glola was no less difficult and took about five hours. Our knees and muscles were simply burning from the strain. By the time we finally made it down to the car, the sun was already setting below the horizon. This was the most challenging but also the most vivid and memorable adventure of our ten days in Georgia.

Day 10. Saying Goodbye to Oni and Final Purchases

We decided to spend our final day in Racha at a very relaxed pace, recovering our strength after yesterday's exhausting hike to Udziro Lake. We woke up late, when the sun was already high above the mountains. Nana prepared a farewell breakfast for us: tender cheese khachapuri straight from the oven and homemade matzoni with honey.

We headed to the local Oni market to buy authentic souvenirs and gifts for our loved ones. There were no standard tourist magnets or postcards here, but real treasures of Racha were on sale. We bought several rounds of homemade Rachan cheese, a jar of mountain honey gathered by local beekeepers in the forests of Shovi, and, of course, the famous dried Rachan ham (lori) wrapped in thick paper. This delicacy will remind us of the tastes of Racha back home.

The rest of the day was spent strolling slowly through the quiet streets of Oni, peeking into courtyards, and saying goodbye to this amazing land. We visited the local museum of local lore, where we viewed a small but very interesting exhibition detailing the history and ethnography of the region. It turned out that Racha has a rich history dating back to the Bronze Age.

In the evening, we had a farewell dinner in the garden of our guesthouse with Nana and her family. We sat under a spreading apple tree, drank homemade Khvanchkara wine (the grapes for which are grown right here in Lower Racha), ate charcoal-grilled river trout, and talked about everything. We felt not like tourists, but like welcome guests in the home of close friends. Leaving this warm and hospitable land was incredibly sad.

The Green Heart of Georgia: Why Racha Will Forever Remain in Our Hearts

The ten days we spent in Racha flew by in a single flash, leaving behind a landslide of bright emotions and a deep sense of peace. We managed to fully execute our plan: we saw the wild, non-touristy Georgia hidden from the eyes of most travelers. Racha amazed us with its pristine nature, the grandeur of its glaciers, the silence of its ancient forests, and, of course, the incredible hospitality of the local people, who are always ready to help without expecting anything in return.

What did we like the most? Undoubtedly, the trekking to the Buba and Tbilisa glaciers, as well as the challenging but beautiful ascent to Udziro Lake. These places offer a sense of discovery that is rare in today's world. The lack of tourist crowds allowed us to truly merge with nature and hear the silence. The culinary discoveries in the form of lobiani with ham and shkmeruli were a pleasant bonus to our active vacation.

Were there any downsides? Perhaps only the difficult transport accessibility and the practically complete lack of infrastructure in some places. Without a guide or detailed maps, it is easy to get lost here, and traveling between locations without a car is highly difficult. But for us, these downsides were actually benefits, since it is thanks to its remoteness that Racha has preserved its unique charm and wild beauty.

Leaving Oni, my sister and I firmly decided that we would definitely return to these parts in the future. Our plans for the next trip include exploring more distant corners of Mountainous Racha, taking a multi-day camping trek through the passes to Svaneti, and once again breathing in this purest mountain air, smelling of pine and glacial chill.