Deutsch
русский
Clouds drifted over Samtskhe-Javakheti like slow ships when we pulled onto the “Tongue of Mother-in-Law” overlook—yes, the cliff cameo from 5 Days of War. Below, the Algeti gorge unrolled toward the highland plateau, promising something older than any Hollywood set: Shaori Fortress, Georgia’s own “Stonehenge.”
After coffee in Tsalka we skirted the silver sheet of Paravani Lake, its shore dotted with the pastel-green roofs of Tambovka’s crumbling Doukhobor cottages. A wind strong enough to rip pages from a journal chased us west, where the track dissolved into ankle-sized scree. Markers? None. Our guide’s boot prints and a curious raven were the only signs we were on the right ridge.
Then the mountain whispered its secret. Just below 2 700 m a perfectly paved “street” appeared—flat basalt slabs fitted tighter than a Tetris board, laid by hands that pre-date written Georgian history. We followed this Stone Age boulevard to the summit, hearts thumping from altitude and anticipation.
Shaori Fortress is less a castle than a crown of cyclopean boulders. Some scholars call it an observatory, others a pagan shrine; all agree its energy is palpable. I leaned against one monolith, imagining priests timing solstices or warriors scanning for Argonaut sails on Paravani’s glittering horizon.
Lunch was a picnic of khachapuri and mountain herbs, eaten with 360-degree views of volcanic cones and a sky so clear you could taste the ozone. By late afternoon we descended the same hidden street, pockets full of obsidian chips and heads full of questions.
If you crave archaeology with altitude and mystery you can feel in your bones, Shaori delivers—and the drive alone is worth the mythic soundtrack playing in your mind on the way back to Tbilisi.