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For those of you that may have read my previous blog, you would certainly have taken away one thing from it: I’m pretty damn scared of flying on small planes. Alas, I was both surprised and deeply concerned to learn of my willingness to try the not-so-traveled route from Nakhtakhtari, near Tbilisi, to Mestia, Svaneti, by ‘plane’. Not quite sure where I managed to summon the strength to at least make that provisional decision, but hey.

So, I had a decision to make: fly there, or fly back? Practically speaking, my limited time meant that I should probably have considered doing a return journey by plane, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach that. Alas, I thought I would check tickets online, see what was available, in the vain hope that this may offer me an answer without me having to decide for myself.

Behold! 1 ticket left on the Friday morning. As there were two of us, it had made up my mind for me. With an almost giddy joy, I booked the night train to Zugdidi for the Thursday night, the idea being to get a cab up to Mestia upon arrival, and then I would buy the return flight ticket directly from Mestia airport.

Whilst this was all well and good, I had forgotten just how perilous the road up was from Zugdidi. I mean, let’s call a spade of spades here, what is considered to be more dangerous, flying, or driving the one mountain road up, with the drivers nonchalantly navigating the almost inexistent road as if it were a dual-lane highway? Hmm, no answers needed on a postcard for that one, me thinks. An hour and a half into the 3-hour journey, we stopped for coffee and, more so, the opportunity to throw up. Yeah. Grim. We had met two American-Georgian guys on the night-train, who were headed in the same direction as us. We became fast friends and decided to share a cab up.

We had made it – and I felt somewhat stupid for making such a big deal out of the 45-minute flight, considering the route we had just taken (8-hour train to Zugdidi and a 3-hour cab ride up). Nevertheless, we were in Svaneti, the place I had yearned for since my last visit 3 years previously.

The next couple of days went quickly, with me, unfortunately, being tied up with work whilst the guys were all off skiing. Nevertheless, it was so nice to work whilst I could see the Caucasus mountains in the background. My friend, Konstantine (Kote, my promised shout out to you!), was adamant on flying back; which I saw as two-fold. Whilst his eagerness to get back to Tbilisi quickly meant it was more likely I’d take the plunge and do it, it also created a great deal of pressure. I would look like a total wimp if I pulled out at the last minute. I swallowed my fear as best I could, and the 4 of us agreed that we’d all fly back together, should there be available tickets on the tiny plane.

We had to wait until the very last morning to find out if this was indeed possible, as the airline had said there was only 1 ticket left; but a friend of Konstantine’s had told us there may be some tickets available at the last minute. It took a fair bit of wine the night before in order for me to willingly accept this fact, lemme tell ya.

Now, I’m sorry to say, but this story is somewhat anticlimactic – we were unable to secure 4 tickets on the morning of our departure from Mestia; and I felt somewhat disappointed in myself, despite it being out of my control. We took the mountain road back down again, all the while feeling very silly that my mind had been so preoccupied with the thought of flying on a prop, that I had given no thought to the once again perilous road that leads to Zugdidi. There were times when we literally had to close our eyes and hope for the best, while the driver was carelessly chatting away on the phone in the local Svan language. Georgia; there is certainly no other place like it.

Should I one day manage to face my fear, I will let you know. In the meantime, one thing has dawned on me: there is no 100% safe way to get to Svaneti – but you know what? That’s what makes the journey so unique.

By Tamzin Whitewood