Bakuriani is a mountain town that has spent its whole life being a place to escape to. At around 1,700 metres in the Trialeti range, in the pine forests above Borjomi, it was a summer retreat for the Russian aristocracy and later a Soviet winter-sports training ground, and the grid of wooden dachas and chunky concrete hotels tells both stories. In summer it is sleepy, scented with resin and woodsmoke. In winter the population balloons and skiers fill every cafe.
The road up from Borjomi is the reason to come. It leaves the gorge of the Kura, climbs in long, steady bends through dense spruce and fir, and the temperature drops a few degrees each time you look at the gauge. The tarmac is generally good, with gentle gradients and only the odd rough patch where meltwater has done its worst. There is little traffic outside the ski season, and the corners are the kind that reward a relaxed rhythm instead of aggression. Early mornings in summer are cool and clear; autumn brings red and gold in the undergrowth.
Another way to arrive is also worth mentioning. A narrow-gauge railway, locally nicknamed Kukushka, the cuckoo, has been chugging between Borjomi and Bakuriani since the beginning of the twentieth century, and it still runs, slowly, wheezing through the forest. You will see it from the road in places, and it makes a charming photograph if your timing is right.
Bakuriani itself has all that a rider wants for a short break: small shops, cafes with wood stoves, bakeries, and guesthouses where the owner cooks dinner and talks politics. Fuel is not abundant here, since this is a small town of about two and a half thousand, so the safe plan is to refill in Borjomi, about fifteen kilometres below. Lifts and trails above town lead to open meadows and ridges, with views toward the Lesser Caucasus on clear days. In the shoulder seasons, late spring and late autumn, it can be quiet to the point of closure, so check that your cafe is open before you plan lunch around it.