Of Snow and Wine

It was April, and the first flowers were blooming on the mountain pastures in the Alps. The landscape turned greener, and the smell of spring was in the air. Spring? The thought of winter coming to an end quickly caused discontent. After having returned from our last ski tour to the Wildspitze, we decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing and had a glass of wine. Jochen and I passed the 2015-16 season in review, indulging in memories and re-visiting every single powder line before our inner eyes. We agreed that this could not possibly be the end of winter yet! But where should we go? I looked at the half-emptied bottle of Georgian red wine on the table, turned to Jochen, smiled at him, and said: "How about the cradle of wine... Georgia?"

Two weeks later, a randomly mixed group of passionate freeriders met on board of an airplane heading to Tbilisi, Georgia's capital city. We were ready for an adventure "out East". Our travel destination was a small ski village surrounded by mighty four- and five-thousand-meter peaks called Gudauri (2,300 meters). From Tbilisi, it took us about one and a half hours by taxi to get there. Serpentine after serpentine the air got colder, and the landscape turned barren. But we did not see the three meters of snow that a local mountain guide had promised us before we left home. The next day, we explored the resort, scouted a few nice lines and kept searching for the promised snow. Without success.

Daytime spring temperatures combined with icy nights exterminated the remaining snow. Ice and crusty snow cover were some of our first challenges. Around noon, the snow started to soften, which allowed us to ski some wonderful, exposed lines. That evening at the hotel, the next challenge was already around the corner: We were offered "Chacha", the locals' favorite booze. The next morning, we agreed: "Chacha... never again!" We definitely prefer the delicious Georgian red wine. The following days were stamped "earn your turn"; we learned a lot about the Georgian backcountry and the incredible size and mightiness of the Caucasus Mountains. We had to hike every single line. It was exhausting.

But it also made us enjoy every single turn, and a landscape so different from the Alps: unbelievably vast, with sparsely populated valleys, meandering rivers and gently rising foothills in the shadow of the mighty mountain ranges rising above them. What an overwhelming feeling it was to stand on a summit and watch the sunset, surrounded by these divine giants. We were more than grateful for this moment and quickly understood the entire potential of this wild alpine environment that made our freeride hearts beat faster. But we also realized that it takes more elaborate planning to explore Georgia on skis.

We did not have a lot of time to prepare for this trip; as a result, we could only imagine the "real stuff" - serious trips into the Caucasus Mountain - when we skied the backcountry of Gudauri. Despite the fact that skiing was the clear focus of our journey, we also wanted to find out more about the country and its people. The cultural highlight was a visit to the mountain monastery of Lomisi outside Gudauri. We packed fruit, vegetables, and some wine as gifts and started skinning. After roughly two hours, we reached the ridge. We all turned inward for a moment to absorb the spectacular beauty of the monastery, an impressive structure diligently built stone on stone up here, high above the valley.

We offered our gifts to one of the monks, who welcomed us friendly yet distanced, and entered this magical place. The monk read from the sacred book, and it seemed like he blessed us. After the reading, we were invited to have a glass of the monks' homemade wine. We overcame conversational difficulties with gestures and facial expressions - a smile is often more meaningful than a spoken word. With inspiring pictures in our heads, we then skied back to the valley on spring snow and walked the last 300 meters with our skis attached to our backpacks. On our way to the car, we were accompanied by free range chicken and skinny cows. Traveling with our ski equipment felt a bit weird.

At first, the locals eyed us critically and a bit whimsically, and we felt like they were not too thrilled about our presence. Somehow, this was plausible: We traveled in a far-away country with many facets, visited small, humble villages with poor people struggling to earn enough to feed themselves the next day. And there came the tourists, exploring their country and having fun skiing. This understanding helped us reflect on our own life at home and appreciate it a bit more. We started to question our way of life, began to reflect, and became philosophical. The next day, it rained cats and dogs, and after three hours of water skiing, we finally called it a day.

All weather forecasts and even our local guide confirmed that there was no improvement in sight. Reluctantly, we packed our skis and dedicated the last three days to Georgia's culture. One of our visits took us to the monastery located at the bottom of Georgia's highest mountains, Kazbegi (5,033 meters). The peak's mightiness immediately cast a spell over us. We spent the last one and a half days in Tbilisi, a city best characterized by the contrast of modernity on the one hand and old town atmosphere on the other. The old town, with its rustic streets and many small restaurants and bars, is a very popular place in the evenings.

The icing on the cake were delicious Georgian specialties such as Kachapuri, Lobiani, and Khinkhali, always served with a glass (or more) of red wine. We also did not want to miss a visit to a typically Georgian sulfite bath, where we had our last glass of wine. We toasted to a glorious trip before we had to say goodbye and head to the airport. Our verdict: Georgia is a rather unusual destination for freeriders. Its breathtaking mountain ranges and exceptionally beautiful faces mesmerized us. This and its serene people make Georgia a truly stunning country. Thank you and see you soon, Eurasian beauty.