Kutaisi – Ureki – 100 km
I woke in Kutaisi to the soft patter of rain on canvas, cocooned in the spacious
tent pitched behind the hostel. The drizzle was gentle, rhythmic, almost
meditative. I lay there for a while, tempted to stay another day among the
laughter and stories of fellow travellers. But the road tugged at me—not
urgently, but insistently. I packed up, waved goodbye, and pedalled into the
mist.
The ride to Ureki was 100 kilometres of shifting terrain, narrow roads, and
unexpected detours. Road closures funnelled traffic into tight corridors, turning
quiet lanes into chaotic bottlenecks. It wasn’t the leisurely ride I’d imagined, but
the warmth in the air and the lush, green landscapes kept my spirits buoyant.
Villages passed in a blur of stone houses and roadside stalls.
Ureki greeted me with a burst of energy. A holiday village pulsing with
vacationers, beach umbrellas, and the scent of grilled corn. I found a snug;
affordable room tucked away from the noise—a pocket of calm in the summer
buzz. That evening, I wandered the shoreline, watching the tiny waves lap
against the stony beach. The sea was quiet, almost shy. I felt a strange mix of
arrival and anticipation.