Tbilisi – Mtskheta - 30 Km
Leaving Tbilisi felt like tearing a page from a beloved book before finishing the
chapter. The city had wrapped itself around me—its crumbling balconies, its
quiet dignity, its cheese-filled bread—and I wasn’t quite ready to let go. But the
road was calling, and I had promised myself I’d listen.
I set off just after eight, which, for me, counts as an early start. The city was still
stretching its limbs; shops remained shuttered, and the streets were hushed. I
coasted downhill toward the Mtkvari River, the morning air cool against my
cheeks, the city slowly receding behind me.
Then—disaster. A screw from my front luggage rack vanished somewhere along
the cobbles. I cursed under my breath, suspecting the bike shop hadn’t
tightened it properly. But cable ties, those unsung heroes of the road, came to
my rescue. I patched things up, made a mental note to find a proper fix, and
pedalled on.
The landscape began to shift. Mist clung to the hills like a secret. Waterfalls
spilled from hidden ravines. Ancient castles crowned distant ridgelines, their
silhouettes softened by the morning haze. It felt like cycling through a medieval
dream.