With winter a bit delayed, we seized the opportunity to tackle the impressive and lengthy Lomisa Ridge from the Orthodox monastery for the second time. The first attempt, accompanied by my husky dog, Ice, ended in failure when he stopped in the middle of the technical section and refused to continue. This time, I invited my running buddy Boris, left Ice at home, and carefully planned our route to avoid past mistakes.
While we didn’t execute everything perfectly, we successfully explored about half of the intended route.
What makes this ridge so desirable for me? I see it every day from my window. It's like my daily TV show: the Lomisa Ridge changes color throughout the day and in different weather conditions. It attracts and invites me. It appears immense even from a distance, and when you’re actually running along it, the size is even more impressive. My husband tried to follow our run with binoculars but could hardly spot us, despite knowing where we were.
We started at Mleta village, climbed to the monastery, and set off towards the technical section below Lomisa Peak. This time, a local dog joined us, stretching lazily in the sun at the monastery. Suddenly, his demeanor changed when he spotted partridges in the bushes; he took off like a real hunting dog, perhaps inheriting the instincts of his pointer ancestors.
A thin layer of snow covered the stones below the peak, making the traverse even more challenging. The surface was icy and slippery, leaving no boulders to trust for support. Even the dog seemed hesitant in some sections. It took us about an hour to navigate this 500-meter stretch.
In conclusion, if you haven't yet visited Lomisa Monastery and are interested in seeing it, I recommend this route. However, since I’ve been there many times, I plan to avoid both the monastery and the peak next time, as traversing it isn’t exactly running. It takes too much time. Instead, we’ll start at Zemo Mleta, a village slightly higher, and climb to the ridge right after Lomisa Peak (from the right side).
Once past the peak, everything became much simpler. The ridge is wide, and the views are breathtaking. On the opposite side lies a vast valley with more mountains and ridges—endless peaks with guard towers dotting the landscape. We counted at least ten towers, likely more, hidden in the shadows.
It felt like something out of Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings," with the signal fires from Minas Tirith to Rohan—a line of guards lighting fires to communicate from one village to another along the mountain range.
I’m uncertain if we’re allowed to venture down the other side of the ridge and explore from one tower to another, as it might already be Russian territory, according to my Georgian colleagues. The exact border remains unclear.
While we didn’t execute everything perfectly, we successfully explored about half of the intended route.
What makes this ridge so desirable for me? I see it every day from my window. It's like my daily TV show: the Lomisa Ridge changes color throughout the day and in different weather conditions. It attracts and invites me. It appears immense even from a distance, and when you’re actually running along it, the size is even more impressive. My husband tried to follow our run with binoculars but could hardly spot us, despite knowing where we were.
We started at Mleta village, climbed to the monastery, and set off towards the technical section below Lomisa Peak. This time, a local dog joined us, stretching lazily in the sun at the monastery. Suddenly, his demeanor changed when he spotted partridges in the bushes; he took off like a real hunting dog, perhaps inheriting the instincts of his pointer ancestors.
A thin layer of snow covered the stones below the peak, making the traverse even more challenging. The surface was icy and slippery, leaving no boulders to trust for support. Even the dog seemed hesitant in some sections. It took us about an hour to navigate this 500-meter stretch.
In conclusion, if you haven't yet visited Lomisa Monastery and are interested in seeing it, I recommend this route. However, since I’ve been there many times, I plan to avoid both the monastery and the peak next time, as traversing it isn’t exactly running. It takes too much time. Instead, we’ll start at Zemo Mleta, a village slightly higher, and climb to the ridge right after Lomisa Peak (from the right side).
Once past the peak, everything became much simpler. The ridge is wide, and the views are breathtaking. On the opposite side lies a vast valley with more mountains and ridges—endless peaks with guard towers dotting the landscape. We counted at least ten towers, likely more, hidden in the shadows.
It felt like something out of Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings," with the signal fires from Minas Tirith to Rohan—a line of guards lighting fires to communicate from one village to another along the mountain range.
I’m uncertain if we’re allowed to venture down the other side of the ridge and explore from one tower to another, as it might already be Russian territory, according to my Georgian colleagues. The exact border remains unclear.
Due to our lengthy stay near the peak and starting later in the day, it became evident that we wouldn’t complete our planned route in time. So, we turned back from the midpoint and began our descent toward the Aragvi River via a steep path. This took another 40 minutes, and we finally reached the flat section along the Aragvi River, which serves as another of my training routes for fast and almost flat running—perfect for a change of pace when uphill running becomes too challenging.