Surami – Kutaisi - 93 km
Georgia isn’t flat. That much I knew. But the road from Surami to Kutaisi
reminded me just how dramatic its contours could be. Hills rolled like waves,
each one steeper than the last, and just when I thought I’d reached the crest,
another climb appeared. I pedalled steadily, breath syncing with the rhythm of
the land, legs burning, heart open.
Then came the freeway. A sign flashed “prohibited,” warning cyclists to stay
clear. But the road workers, grinning and waving, ushered me through like an
honoured guest. I hesitated, then followed their lead. Suddenly, I was gliding
along a pristine stretch of highway, tunnels swallowing the hills, the ride
transformed from gruelling to effortless. The tunnels were eerie—long, dim,
echoing—but they carried me through the Rikoti Pass like a secret passage
carved into the mountains.
Emerging on the other side felt like a rebirth. The air was different. Softer. The
descent into Kutaisi was swift, and with it came a sense of arrival—not just in
place, but in rhythm.
Kutaisi, Georgia’s third-largest city, greeted me with cobbled streets and steep
inclines. I had booked a night at Friends Hostel, drawn by its proximity to the
iconic Bagrati Cathedral. What I hadn’t anticipated was the final ascent—a
punishing climb up a narrow, cobbled road that tested every ounce of my
resolve. I wheezed, cursed, and dragged my bike upward, questioning my
sanity with every step.