Uplistsikhe is a three-thousand-year-old cave city carved directly into a sandstone cliff above the Mtkvari River in central Georgia — one of the oldest urban settlements in the Caucasus and one of the most dramatically atmospheric day trips from Tbilisi.
Georgia: Mtskheta – Georgia’s Ancient Capital Explored
🏛️ Older Than Rome, Smaller Than Croydon: Mtskheta, the Holy Heart of Georgia
I’d been told Mtskheta was about twenty kilometres north-west of Tbilisi, which sounded straightforward enough, and in fairness it is straightforward if you happen to know where you’re going. I did not. I took at least two wrong turns before I found my way into the centre of the town, which for a place that’s been continuously inhabited since roughly the fifth century BC felt like a faintly ridiculous achievement on my part — here I was congratulating myself for finding a car park in a town that’s been around three thousand years longer than the entire concept of the car park. Still, you take your victories where you find them, and by the time I’d wedged the car into a space that was technically a space, I was feeling rather pleased with myself, which never lasts long on a trip like this.
Mtskheta turns out to be one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on earth, which is the sort of claim that gets thrown about rather a lot in this part of the world, but in this case it seems to hold up. It was the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Iberia — and no, before anyone gets excited, not the Iberian Peninsula with Spain and Portugal on it, but the ancient Georgian kingdom of Kartli, a bit of nomenclature that caused me no end of confusion before I sorted it out in my head. It served as the capital from around the third century BC right through to the fifth century AD, when King Vakhtang I Gorgasali decided Tbilisi would do better and shifted everything there instead, presumably much to the annoyance of everyone who’d just got settled in Mtskheta.
Geographically it’s rather a treat, sitting at the confluence of the Mtkvari and the Aragvi rivers, which gives the whole town a naturally dramatic setting that it hasn’t had to try very hard for. UNESCO clearly agreed, because the whole lot has been a World Heritage Site for years, on account of containing some of the most important religious monuments in the entire country. And the religious history here really is something. According to Georgian Orthodox tradition, Christianity arrived with Saint Nino of Cappadocia in 327 AD, and the country adopted it as the state religion just ten years later, in 337 AD. That makes Georgia one of the very earliest Christian nations on the planet, second only to Armenia, who got there first in 301 AD and no doubt still mention it at every opportunity. Mtskheta has been a religious centre ever since, which by my reckoning is getting on for seventeen hundred years of more or less uninterrupted holiness, a record few towns in Surrey can match.
⛪ Svetitskhoveli Cathedral — The One with the Flying Pillar
My first proper stop was Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, tucked behind a decent-sized stone wall more or less in the middle of the old town. The name translates roughly as the Cathedral of the Living Pillar, and once you hear the story behind that name, you understand why nobody’s bothered changing it to something shorter.
The legend, and it’s a good one, goes like this. A local Jewish man named Elias was supposedly present at the Crucifixion in Jerusalem and brought Christ’s robe back home to Mtskheta. His sister Sidonia took hold of it, was so overcome with emotion that she promptly died on the spot, and was buried still clutching it. From her grave grew an enormous cedar tree, one that apparently could not be felled by any ordinary means — which strikes me as the sort of detail that gets added to a story a few centuries after the fact, but who am I to argue with Georgian ecclesiastical tradition. Saint Nino prayed over the tree, it was eventually cut down, and the wood was used to make pillars for the first church on the site. One of these pillars, rather than behaving itself and staying put like the others, rose up into the air of its own accord and started emitting a healing liquid. Hence: the Living Pillar. You have to admire the sheer ambition of it. Nobody in Georgian religious storytelling does anything by halves.
The cathedral you see today is largely the work of the architect Arsukidze, built between 1010 and 1029 under King Bagrat III, which makes the building just over a thousand years old and in remarkably good nick for its age — better than I’ll be managing at a thousand, I shouldn’t think, or indeed at sixty. It’s a big, cruciform basilica in pale stone, with the rounded apses and the slightly fortress-like solidity that seems to be the house style for Georgian church architecture generally — as if the architects were never entirely sure whether they were building somewhere to pray or somewhere to withstand a siege, and decided to hedge their bets.
Inside it’s cool, a bit dim, and covered in frescoes of varying age, some medieval and some rather more recently restored, which gives the walls an odd patchwork quality once you start looking closely. There are royal tombs scattered about, including several Kartvelian monarchs, which I found myself tiptoeing around slightly self-consciously, the way you do in a place like that. I spent about half an hour wandering round, squinting at things and trying to work out what I was looking at, with only partial success. What struck me most, though, was that this is still a working cathedral — people were in there lighting candles and praying the whole time I was there, going about their business quite unbothered by the tourists shuffling round with their cameras. It gives the place a weight that a purely tourist attraction simply doesn’t have. You can’t fake that sort of thing.
🕊️ Samtavro Monastery — Saint Nino’s Bramble Patch
From the cathedral it was a short walk north to Samtavro Monastery, which doesn’t shout about itself nearly as much as Svetitskhoveli but is, in its own understated way, just as remarkable. The main Church of Samtavro dates in its current form to the eleventh century, though it sits on foundations a good deal older than that, and there’s a smaller chapel on the site dedicated to Saint Nino herself.
According to tradition, it was here, in a corner of the royal garden, that Saint Nino lived in the early fourth century, in a shelter made out of brambles of all things — not the most comfortable arrangement, you’d think, but then saints never seem terribly bothered about their accommodation. It was from this bramble patch that she apparently performed the miracles and conversions that eventually brought the Georgian royal court round to Christianity, which is a fairly impressive return on investment for a shelter made of thorny shrubbery. There’s a small shrine marking the spot today.
The monastery is still very much active, home to a community of nuns, and it has a quieter, more enclosed feel than the cathedral — less a monument, more a place where ordinary daily life is still quietly getting on with itself alongside seventeen centuries of history. I only spent a few minutes there, which on reflection felt a bit inadequate given what supposedly happened on that patch of ground, but there was more to see and the day wasn’t getting any longer
⛰️ Jvari Monastery — The View From the Top
Before leaving Mtskheta altogether, I drove up to Jvari Monastery, which sits on a rocky hilltop looming over the town and the meeting point of the two rivers below. The road up winds steeply, the sort of road that makes you grip the wheel a bit tighter than strictly necessary, but the view from the top makes up for any wear and tear on the nerves. You get the whole of Mtskheta laid out beneath you, the two rivers joining up, and the valley stretching off in both directions — genuinely one of the best views I’d had since arriving in the country, and I include in that comparison several views I’d paid good money to see.
Jvari simply means Cross in Georgian, and the monastery is believed to stand on the exact spot where Saint Nino erected a large wooden cross back in the fourth century to mark the country’s conversion to Christianity. The church standing there now is one of the oldest surviving in Georgia, built in the late sixth and early seventh centuries, with construction generally dated to somewhere between 586 and 605 AD. Architecturally it’s a tetraconch design, meaning four semicircular apses arranged round a central square, and this particular layout turned out to be hugely influential on everything that followed in Georgian church building — a sort of template that architects kept coming back to for centuries afterwards.
It’s a compact, solid little building, nothing like the scale of Svetitskhoveli down in the town, but it has a simplicity and a sense of permanence about it that I found genuinely affecting, which isn’t a word I use lightly, or often, or really ever. Like the cathedral, it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and for Georgians it carries enormous religious significance. I walked round the outside and spent a good while just looking out over the valley, turning over the thought that people had been standing on that exact spot doing exactly what I was doing for the best part of fourteen hundred years. Puts your own fortnight’s holiday into a certain perspective.
🤔 Reflections
What struck me most about Mtskheta, looking back on it, wasn’t any single building, impressive as they all were, but the sheer unbroken stretch of time the place represents. You stand in a town smaller than most London boroughs and you’re looking at layers of history going back to before the Roman Empire had really got going, through the earliest days of Christianity anywhere on earth, right up to nuns going about their daily routine this morning. We don’t really have that in England, or if we do, we’ve usually paved over it or turned it into a gift shop. I came away with a slightly humbling sense of my own, and indeed my country’s, relative newness — which isn’t a sensation I get very often, and certainly not one I was expecting on what I’d assumed would be a fairly straightforward day trip out of Tbilisi. Worth every wrong turn it took to get there.
Planning Your Visit to Mtskheta
Mtskheta sits about twenty kilometres north-west of Tbilisi, at the confluence of the Mtkvari and Aragvi rivers, and it is one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in the world. From around the third century BC until the fifth century AD, this unassuming little town served as the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Iberia — not the Iberian Peninsula of Spain and Portugal, but the old Georgian kingdom of Kartli, a completely separate and entirely coincidental use of the word. When King Vakhtang I Gorgasali moved the capital to Tbilisi in the fifth century, Mtskheta kept its religious significance, and it remains the spiritual heart of Georgia to this day. UNESCO recognised the town and its extraordinary collection of monuments as a World Heritage Site, and it is easy to see why: the concentration of early Christian architecture here is simply extraordinary.
🌍 Location
Mtskheta occupies a position of considerable natural drama, sitting precisely at the point where the Mtkvari and Aragvi rivers meet. The surrounding valley is broad and fertile, with rocky hills rising on either side, and the town’s most important monuments are spread between the old centre down by the river and the hilltops above it — most notably Jvari Monastery, which commands the whole landscape from a rocky outcrop directly above where the two rivers join. It is a view that has been inspiring travellers and pilgrims for well over fourteen centuries, and it still earns its reputation effortlessly.
✈️ Getting There
From Tbilisi by Car
The most flexible option is to drive from Tbilisi, a journey of around twenty to thirty minutes via the S3 motorway heading north-west. The road is well maintained and straightforward to navigate. Parking in the old town centre is available, though it can get busy at weekends and during peak visiting hours. A car also makes it easy to drive up to Jvari Monastery, which sits on a hilltop above the town and would be a long, steep walk from the centre without one.
From Tbilisi by Marshrutka
Shared minibuses, known as marshrutkas, run regularly from Tbilisi’s Didube bus station to Mtskheta throughout the day, taking around thirty to forty minutes and costing only a few Georgian lari. Didube is on the Tbilisi Metro system, making it easy to reach from the city centre. The marshrutka drops passengers in the old town, within easy walking distance of Svetitskhoveli Cathedral and Samtavro Monastery.
From Tbilisi by Taxi or Rideshare
Taxis and the Bolt ride-hailing app both operate from Tbilisi to Mtskheta, and the fare is reasonable for a day trip. A taxi gives you more flexibility than a marshrutka if you want to visit Jvari Monastery as well, since a driver can take you up the hill and wait while you look around. It is worth agreeing the price before setting off, or using the app to avoid any ambiguity.
From Tbilisi by Train
A suburban train service runs between Tbilisi’s central station and Mtskheta, though the train station is a couple of kilometres from the old town itself and requires a short taxi or marshrutka ride to complete the journey. It is a pleasant, inexpensive option, but less convenient than the marshrutka for most visitors.
🚗 Getting Around
Mtskheta’s old town is small enough to cover comfortably on foot. Svetitskhoveli Cathedral and Samtavro Monastery are only a few minutes’ walk apart, and the atmospheric old streets between them are part of the pleasure. The exception is Jvari Monastery, which sits on a hilltop a couple of kilometres above the town and requires either a car, a taxi from the centre, or a fairly demanding uphill walk. Most visitors arrange a car or taxi to get up there, as the road winds steeply and the effort is considerable in warm weather. If you have your own vehicle, the drive takes only a few minutes and the views from the top, looking down over the confluence of the rivers and the whole town below, are among the finest in the region.
Horse-drawn carriages sometimes operate in the old town centre for short sightseeing tours, which is a pleasant way to take in the atmosphere at a slower pace. There is no public bus network within Mtskheta itself, so beyond the old town on foot, a car or taxi is the practical way to get around.
🗺️ What to Expect
The town is well set up for visitors, with a handful of small restaurants and cafés clustered around the cathedral and along the main pedestrian street. Georgian food is excellent almost everywhere, and a leisurely lunch in one of the local restaurants — khinkali dumplings and grilled meats being the obvious choices — makes a natural mid-point in the day. The town is busy at weekends, particularly during Georgian public holidays and religious festivals, when Svetitskhoveli Cathedral fills with worshippers and the atmosphere is rather different from a quiet weekday visit: noisier, more alive, and, for anyone interested in how these places are actually used rather than simply preserved, a great deal more interesting.
A full visit to the main sites — Svetitskhoveli, Samtavro, and Jvari — takes comfortably half a day, and the proximity to Tbilisi makes Mtskheta a natural and very easy day trip. Many visitors combine it with the nearby Gori and Uplistsikhe cave town on a longer day out, though Mtskheta alone is worth the journey without needing to pad the itinerary. It is the kind of place that rewards taking your time rather than hurrying through, and the hilltop view from Jvari, in particular, is one that tends to keep visitors standing rather longer than they had planned.
The Best Time to Visit Georgia
🌸 Spring (March–May)
Spring is widely considered one of the finest times to visit Georgia. Temperatures climb gently from the cool of late winter — Tbilisi averages around 12–18 °C by April — and the landscape transforms dramatically. The foothills of the Greater Caucasus turn a vivid green, wildflowers carpet the valleys of Kakheti, and the orchards of Samtskhe-Javakheti erupt into blossom. Rainfall is moderate and spread throughout the season rather than concentrated into heavy downpours, keeping the air clean and the mountains sharp against the sky.
The cultural calendar is also lively. Easter (Aghdugseba) is one of the most atmospheric celebrations in the Georgian Orthodox calendar, marked by candlelit processions, midnight church services, and family gatherings. Wine lovers benefit from visiting in May, when the previous autumn’s vintage is settling nicely and producers open their cellars for tasting. Crowd levels remain manageable; hotels and guesthouses in Tbilisi’s Old Town are available without advance booking pressure, and the mountain resorts such as Kazbegi and Mestia are accessible but not yet overwhelmed.
What to pack. Bring layers you can peel off — a light fleece, a waterproof jacket, and a packable umbrella. Comfortable walking shoes with grip are essential for wet cobblestones. Evenings remain cool until late April, so a mid-weight jumper pays dividends. Add a light scarf for church visits.
☀️ Summer (June–August)
Summer is Georgia’s peak tourist season, and for good reason. Long days, reliably sunny skies, and warm temperatures — often reaching 30–35 °C in Tbilisi and the lowland river valleys — make it ideal for those who want heat and activity in equal measure. The mountain regions offer a natural escape: Svaneti and the Kazbegi area sit at altitude and remain pleasantly cool, making them busy but spectacular destinations for hikers and trekkers. The Caucasus Trail draws serious walkers from across Europe between June and August.
The Black Sea coast around Batumi is in full swing during summer, with beach resorts, botanical gardens, and a lively restaurant and bar scene. Tbilisi itself hosts numerous festivals — the Tbilisi Open Air music festival in late June is a particular highlight — and outdoor dining along Rustaveli Avenue and the banks of the Mtkvari River reaches its zenith. The downside is congestion: popular sites such as Vardzia cave city, the Alazani Valley wine estates, and the Gergeti Trinity Church above Kazbegi are genuinely crowded. Prices rise sharply in July and August, and booking accommodation several weeks ahead is strongly advisable.
What to pack. Lightweight, breathable clothing is essential — linen and cotton fabrics are ideal. Sun cream, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses are non-negotiable for the lowlands. For mountain excursions, add a waterproof layer and a warm fleece, as altitude weather changes rapidly. Sturdy hiking boots if you plan to trek. A modest wrap or shawl for monasteries.
🍂 Autumn (September–November)
Autumn rivals spring as Georgia’s most rewarding season, and for many travellers it edges ahead. September and October bring the Rtveli — the grape harvest — which is the defining event of the Georgian agricultural and cultural year. Vineyards across Kakheti turn gold and amber; families and friends gather to tread grapes by foot in traditional clay qvevri buried in the earth, and wine flows freely at communal feasts known as supras. Temperatures are comfortable — highs of 22–26 °C in September, cooling to 12–15 °C by October — and the crowds of high summer have thinned.
The forests above Borjomi and around Signagi put on a spectacular display of autumn colour, and photography conditions in the mountains are outstanding as the first dustings of snow appear on the high peaks while the valleys remain warm. November brings a marked change: colder temperatures arrive, some mountain passes close, and rainfall increases. Early November can still be pleasant in the cities, but late November signals the onset of the Georgian winter proper.
What to pack. A versatile mid-layer system works best — a long-sleeved base, a warm jumper, and a windproof outer. Sturdy shoes or boots that handle mud are worth the bag space, particularly for vineyard visits. Bring a compact tripod if you photograph landscapes. A small hip flask for the inevitable impromptu supra is entirely appropriate.
❄️ Winter (December–February)
Winter divides cleanly into two very different experiences. In the mountain resorts — particularly Gudauri and Bakuriani — it is the liveliest and most purposeful season of all. Gudauri, perched at around 2,200 metres on the Georgian Military Highway, receives substantial snowfall and operates well-maintained ski runs catering to a growing international clientele. The ski season typically runs from December through March, and February half-term sees the resort at its most energetic. Lift queues are shorter and prices more reasonable in January.
In Tbilisi and the lowlands, winter is quiet and atmospheric. The city’s ancient churches and medieval streets take on a particular beauty in the low winter light, and the absence of tourist crowds allows for unhurried exploration of the Narikala Fortress, the sulphur baths of Abanotubani, and the vibrant Dezerter Bazaar. Christmas (7 January in the Orthodox calendar) and New Year are celebrated with great warmth: the Alilo procession on Orthodox Christmas morning through Tbilisi is one of the most moving public events in the Georgian year. Road access to some mountain villages and monasteries may be limited by snow, and the Gergeti Trinity Church above Kazbegi requires a 4WD vehicle or a guide. Temperatures in Tbilisi hover around 3–8 °C, occasionally dipping below zero.
What to pack. Warm, windproof and waterproof outer layers are essential. For skiing, full ski kit (hire is available at Gudauri). Thermal underlayers, warm socks, and insulated waterproof boots. A good hat and gloves. Hand warmers are welcome in the mountain air.
🏆 Overall Best Time to Visit
For most travellers, September and October represent Georgia’s golden window. The harvest season brings the country’s deepest cultural traditions to the surface, the landscape is at its most photogenic, temperatures are comfortable for both city exploration and mountain excursions, and the frenetic pace of the high-summer rush has subsided. Spring — particularly April and May — runs a very close second, offering similarly pleasant conditions with the added bonus of blossom and the Orthodox Easter celebrations. Both seasons reward the traveller with a Georgia that feels lived-in and generous rather than packaged for tourism.
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