Lost In The Clouds in Kazbegi, Georgia

We climbed to the top of the world and walked in the clouds.

At least, that’s how it felt.

We were taking a day trip to Kazbegi, a green and mountainous slice of Georgia up near the Russian border—“we” being myself, my new friend Kseniya, and a marshrutka (minibus) full of lovely Polish travelers.

I knew very little about Kazbegi. It was Kseniya’s suggestion to take the trip; I did a quick Google image search, which was more than enough to convince me that it would be a worthwhile adventure.

I didn’t realize we were headed straight into the land of clouds.

I also didn’t realize that the journey to Kazbegi would be as much of an attraction as the town itself. We set out early in the morning in anticipation of a three-hour drive from Tbilisi. Once our marshrutka was loaded, I promptly fell asleep.

Not for long. After less than an hour, our driver pulled to the side of the road. I woke up crankily… until I looked out the window.

A turquoise lake with green hills gently rolling around it, capped by a beautiful Georgian-style church. We practically leaped out of the marshrutka, cameras at the ready, to photograph this unexpected wonder.

It was only the beginning. The three-hour ride took more than four, as our enthusiastic marshrutka driver stopped at every breathtaking view on the way—and there were many.

Epic rolling green mountains.

Homemade roadside honey and fruit leathers stuffed with nuts.

Strange orange mineral formations cascading from the sides of hills.

As we weaved further and further uphill, the roads got progressively rougher and the sky more ominously gray, with clouds hanging so low that I thought I could brush them aside if I stuck my hand out the window.

Once we finally arrived in Kazbegi, the sky was a twist of sunshine blue and enveloping clouds. Because the journey there was so scenic and long, we realized immediately that we wouldn’t have time to get to the church on top of the mountain and make it back in time to catch the last marshrutka to Tbilisi, which we were told left around 5pm. Instead, Kseniya and I took a short uphill hike into the clouds.

We passed through a small village, and saw some horses, a couple hearty hikers and workmen.

Mostly we were alone, surrounded by a quietly trickling brook and butterflies and purple thistles.

And of course, those heavy, glorious clouds.

It felt like sitting in the sky. After hours in a minibus, the quiet crispness was so refreshing;  the clouds seemed almost mystical, like a gateway to another world.

Of course, clouds might seem comforting but they are actually omens. The drizzle started slowly as we scurried down off the mountain and it broke into a full-on downpour as we tucked ourselves into a dumpling restaurant and waited for the ride home. The marshrutka ride back entailed winding back down the mountains through solid white fog with minimal visibility– it was terrifying, but also sort of wonderful: finally, we were consumed by the clouds.

We got back to Tbilisi safe and sound. But once you’re back on the ground, it’s hard to stop dreaming of the time you lived in the clouds.