Georgia is known for its natural beauty, from the wide vineyards of Kakheti to the tropical climate of Adjara. Perhaps the most famous of Georgia’s sights are the mountains in the north of the country, which are praised in poems of Pushkin himself. The grandiose scale of such mountains with their sloping green hills and snow-caked peaks is iconic in many postcards of Georgia. Mount Kazbegi, the most famous of the mountains, is located near the end of Georgia’s Military Highway north of Tbilisi. Last weekend, I was fortunate enough to visit this mountain in the townlet of Stepantsminda and hike the trail with a friend.
Upon arriving, we first saw the Gergeti Trinity Church, which sat above the whole city. It was already evening, so the church was glowing from the spotlights placed beneath it. The lighting highlighted the significance of the role that it played in the town’s skyline, emphasizing the focus that Georgians had on their devotion. Beyond the church, significantly farther in the distance, was Mount Kazbegi, the round snow-covered peak that loomed over the town. We gazed in both wonder and fear, since we wondered how it would ever be possible to trek the whole distance to the glacier at the foot of the peak.
Nonetheless, we made our way up the trail to the church the very first thing the next day. We constantly stopped along the trail to prevent excessive exhaustion from the change in elevation, but it was worth it since no matter where you stopped, there was a breathtaking view. We made it to the monastery and admired the overlook over Stepantsminda as well as the art located within the church itself. However, our journey had only just begun, so we made our way onward.
Along the path were hikers from different European countries: Russia, Germany, Poland, France, and more. Many of the hikers would mingle and share snacks and advice, as well as partner up to take on the mountain. There was a sense of empathy in the mountains, that we all understood that we were each taking on a huge adventure and we each needed all the help we could get to complete it. Nationalities and points of origin only became a topic of conversation and nothing more; the main concern was the mountain.
My friend and I ventured on, stopping every so often to catch our breath or snack on the churchkhela, a beloved confection consisting of grape must, nuts, and flour, that we packed. Hours had passed and we climbed higher and higher into the mountains. Soon, the townlet of Stepantsminda had disappeared and the glacier came into view. We were on the homestretch.
The terrain turned from green into something that looked almost extraterrestrial thanks to volcanic rocks that serve as a reminder that Kazbegi is a dormant volcano. When we finally reached our goal, a strange feeling came over me. I had just climbed this mountain, which had seemed to be an impossible feat when looking from the bottom. It reminded me of how I felt when I began learning Russian, which also seemed to be an unimaginable goal. But here I was, at the foot of Mount Kazbegi, and able to survive in a country using only my Russian. Both of these accomplishments felt more real to me.
My friend and I rushed down the mountain, retracing our steps to make it back to the townlet before it got too dark. The whole trek had taken us over sixteen hours, and we returned to the guesthouse exhausted. To celebrate our feat, we enjoyed some iced coffee, shkmeruli, a traditional Georgian chicken dish, and lamb kebab at a local restaurant. I will forever be grateful for my time in Kazbegi, since it helped me appreciate the work that I have put in with my Russian studies.
Calvin Older
Dan E. Davidson Fellowship Recipient
Title VIII Fellowship Recipient
Advanced Russian Language and Area Studies Program (RLASP)
Tbilisi, Georgia, Summer 2025