Area: Caucasus, Svaneti, Georgia
I have wanted to visit Svaneti for many years: it has always seemed the archetypal hidden mountain land, high up in the Caucasus. It's a fascinating region more generally, which I scratched the surface of in previous brief trips: 2011 and 2012. After a night in Kutaisi, I took the long Mashrutka journey through Zugdidi along the Abkhazian border to the Engudi gorge. Above here, eventually, the characteristic medieval towers of Svaneti mark the entrance to this magical environment - fields and fertile valleys, huge peaks. I stayed in a guesthouse in Mestia with fabulous views to Banguriani - it had a nice, albeit basic, 'mountain hut' atmosphere which I quite liked. This morning dawned superbly clear, and the village was deserted as I walked through it at 7.30am, buying a huge freshly cooked shota puri (tandoor) bread - too big to fit in my sac - for a few pence and climbing the cobbled streets towards the path up to the giant cross visible from most parts of the village. The route up was surprisingly steep in places, through thick woods with views to the magnificent pyramidal snow peak of Tetnuldi at the head of the valley. The leaves were just beginning to turn in the autumnal cool, and it really was a magnificent place to be. After an hour of solid effort, taking all the direct variations, I emerged on the undulating plateau above - infuriatingly, next to a jeep track. The views were stunning, however: directly across to the peaks of Kabardino-Balkaria, the Russian republic across the border, with the white dome of Elbrus immediately obvious. Closer to hand, Latraldashi, Tikhtengen and Banguriani towered above the Chalaadi valley to the right. Ushba, however, was hidden in some very localised mist. I walked to the giant cross which marks the 'summit' of Tskhakvzagari at 2359m, although in reality this is just the end of a long spur. It looks like a peak from Mestia, though, which I suppose is the reason it is a named peak. I sat on the grass for a few glorious minutes, enjoying the perfect temperatures and looking down to the Svan villages in the valley and the summits of Mekhnazi and Lahili. The light remained wonderful as I climbed the broad ridge above - this was a little tedious, but I reached the side path to the Guli Pass fairly quickly. This looked good, but my plan to climb Guli on the left seemed a little underambitious - it was just a spur on the ridge, not much of a peak given the magnificent surroundings. Instead, high above, was another peak. It looked red and shattered, but there was an obvious path up it, and it seemed certain to provide close-up views of Ushba - which at this point was still draped in cloud. I thought I'd take the chance, as the steep climb gave access to the famous Koruldi Lakes. These are shallow pools, but they provide a stunning foreground to the jagged peaks of the Russian border. They are popular, but I had it all to myself. Above, a little ridge led to a vague gravel track zig-zagging upwards. The altitude really kicked in now, at 3000m, and I had at least 1500m of climbing in my legs. I nibbled on my tonis puri, and left the track at the steep scree slope that was so obvious from below. There was a vague path up this, but it took some finding to make this negotiable. The cloud was peeling away from the red ridge above, however, and I began to feel that views of Ushba might be imminent. Nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted me as I emerged, however. A loose scramble, distinctly unpleasant, led steeply up the final shattered cone of rock to the ridge, and then a stunning, instant view straight across to Ushba, one of the world's most dramatic, recognisable, dangerous and beautiful mountains. Its twin peaks were redolent of Pedraforca in Catalonia, or Pic du Midi in the Pyrenees, but twice as big. I have seen a lot of amazing sights in many mountain ranges over many years all over the world, but this was up there with the best of them: absolutely incredible, with tendrils of mist peeling away from the twin spires and plunging icefalls on either side. There are no obvious lines of weakness from this side. My more modest peak (Koruldi) lay up to the left, and a nice ridge led to a broader col before a final scrambly ridge up red, bouldery, shattered rock led to a small summit cross and cairn a little higher up. The view of Ushba from the true summit was even better, breath-taking and incredibly close. Of all my '50 at 50' special overseas mountains this year (46 done so far), I think this view exceeded that of Teide from Guajara, and the many, many others, as the finest of all. Both Ushba peaks were now visible, and as I descended I took some time to examine the peaks further east - stunning in every direction, just a little overshadowed by the mighty Ushba. The descent was far easier than the ascent, scree running in places, and I decided to extend the day by contouring the wonderful hillside directly across to the Guli Pass. This was wonderful - springy meadows, steppe buzzards overhead, water pipits below. There was no path (I was above the normal route) but it looked initially like I might be able to contour directly across. Sadly, however, I reached a broad river valley which was very steep, almost a gorge, and meant I had to descend to the normal path - steep and tiring. From here, I crossed the stream (awkward) and headed up to Guli before abandoning the attempt just below the pass when I realised I would be too late back if I carried on. The descent was steep but the weather stayed glorious - and I refuelled on the carb-heavy Lobiani (bean pie) in Lushqu Qor beer garden.
I have wanted to visit Svaneti for many years: it has always seemed the archetypal hidden mountain land, high up in the Caucasus. It's a fascinating region more generally, which I scratched the surface of in previous brief trips: 2011 and 2012. After a night in Kutaisi, I took the long Mashrutka journey through Zugdidi along the Abkhazian border to the Engudi gorge. Above here, eventually, the characteristic medieval towers of Svaneti mark the entrance to this magical environment - fields and fertile valleys, huge peaks. I stayed in a guesthouse in Mestia with fabulous views to Banguriani - it had a nice, albeit basic, 'mountain hut' atmosphere which I quite liked. This morning dawned superbly clear, and the village was deserted as I walked through it at 7.30am, buying a huge freshly cooked shota puri (tandoor) bread - too big to fit in my sac - for a few pence and climbing the cobbled streets towards the path up to the giant cross visible from most parts of the village. The route up was surprisingly steep in places, through thick woods with views to the magnificent pyramidal snow peak of Tetnuldi at the head of the valley. The leaves were just beginning to turn in the autumnal cool, and it really was a magnificent place to be. After an hour of solid effort, taking all the direct variations, I emerged on the undulating plateau above - infuriatingly, next to a jeep track. The views were stunning, however: directly across to the peaks of Kabardino-Balkaria, the Russian republic across the border, with the white dome of Elbrus immediately obvious. Closer to hand, Latraldashi, Tikhtengen and Banguriani towered above the Chalaadi valley to the right. Ushba, however, was hidden in some very localised mist. I walked to the giant cross which marks the 'summit' of Tskhakvzagari at 2359m, although in reality this is just the end of a long spur. It looks like a peak from Mestia, though, which I suppose is the reason it is a named peak. I sat on the grass for a few glorious minutes, enjoying the perfect temperatures and looking down to the Svan villages in the valley and the summits of Mekhnazi and Lahili. The light remained wonderful as I climbed the broad ridge above - this was a little tedious, but I reached the side path to the Guli Pass fairly quickly. This looked good, but my plan to climb Guli on the left seemed a little underambitious - it was just a spur on the ridge, not much of a peak given the magnificent surroundings. Instead, high above, was another peak. It looked red and shattered, but there was an obvious path up it, and it seemed certain to provide close-up views of Ushba - which at this point was still draped in cloud. I thought I'd take the chance, as the steep climb gave access to the famous Koruldi Lakes. These are shallow pools, but they provide a stunning foreground to the jagged peaks of the Russian border. They are popular, but I had it all to myself. Above, a little ridge led to a vague gravel track zig-zagging upwards. The altitude really kicked in now, at 3000m, and I had at least 1500m of climbing in my legs. I nibbled on my tonis puri, and left the track at the steep scree slope that was so obvious from below. There was a vague path up this, but it took some finding to make this negotiable. The cloud was peeling away from the red ridge above, however, and I began to feel that views of Ushba might be imminent. Nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted me as I emerged, however. A loose scramble, distinctly unpleasant, led steeply up the final shattered cone of rock to the ridge, and then a stunning, instant view straight across to Ushba, one of the world's most dramatic, recognisable, dangerous and beautiful mountains. Its twin peaks were redolent of Pedraforca in Catalonia, or Pic du Midi in the Pyrenees, but twice as big. I have seen a lot of amazing sights in many mountain ranges over many years all over the world, but this was up there with the best of them: absolutely incredible, with tendrils of mist peeling away from the twin spires and plunging icefalls on either side. There are no obvious lines of weakness from this side. My more modest peak (Koruldi) lay up to the left, and a nice ridge led to a broader col before a final scrambly ridge up red, bouldery, shattered rock led to a small summit cross and cairn a little higher up. The view of Ushba from the true summit was even better, breath-taking and incredibly close. Of all my '50 at 50' special overseas mountains this year (46 done so far), I think this view exceeded that of Teide from Guajara, and the many, many others, as the finest of all. Both Ushba peaks were now visible, and as I descended I took some time to examine the peaks further east - stunning in every direction, just a little overshadowed by the mighty Ushba. The descent was far easier than the ascent, scree running in places, and I decided to extend the day by contouring the wonderful hillside directly across to the Guli Pass. This was wonderful - springy meadows, steppe buzzards overhead, water pipits below. There was no path (I was above the normal route) but it looked initially like I might be able to contour directly across. Sadly, however, I reached a broad river valley which was very steep, almost a gorge, and meant I had to descend to the normal path - steep and tiring. From here, I crossed the stream (awkward) and headed up to Guli before abandoning the attempt just below the pass when I realised I would be too late back if I carried on. The descent was steep but the weather stayed glorious - and I refuelled on the carb-heavy Lobiani (bean pie) in Lushqu Qor beer garden.
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