The Cable Car in Khulo, Georgia

I knew I had made a good choice when my hostel mom’s eyes light up. “Ah, Khulo!” she said, with the most enthusiasm I had seen in my four days in Batumi (barring when I struggled to close the washing machine door and she had to show me how). She then gave me directions in Russian, which I only vaguely understood but seemed to match with what I had read online, and I was off to Khulo, Georgia, a place barely even mentioned by guidebooks.

Khulo was going to be a gamble. Located 80 km from Batumi, about a two and a half hour drive, this Adjaran mountain village is not pulling in the tourists. I only knew about it from a small insert it gets in the Georgia Lonely Planet guide, which breezily mentions it has a valley-spanning cable car.

I looove a good cable car.

And to be honest, I hadn’t been loving my time in Batumi. Batumi’s greatest secrets seemed to be a new restaurant that had just opened up or a price hike at the Batumi Botanical Garden. The weather had also put a damper on what was supposed to be my fun beach getaway, the inconsistent rain shuttering me inside too much with thoughts of my current inconsistent man. And the thought of going straight from Batumi, Georgia’s second biggest city, to Kutaisi, Georgia’s third biggest city, seemed like more of the same same. I didn’t want to get stuck in a rut at the beginning of my month around Georgia.

So I shouldered my (ridiculously overpacked) backpack and headed off for the bus station. I wrote down Khulo’s name in both Latin and Georgian letters, but I didn’t really need to worry. The guys at the bus station are eager to help you find the right minibus, and just as the rain really started to come down, we left the station.

Depending on how many errands the bus driver needs to run, the trip from Batumi to Khulo takes between two and two and a half hours. The scenery gets more dramatic as you leave the coast, mountain after mountain creeping up after each other. Despite the potholes, it was not a hardship ride. The ‘meh’ vibe I had in Batumi slipped away.

We pulled into town, in front of a few people selling produce and mounds of tobacco on the side of the road, and then I had to climb about 200 steps (ugh mountain towns) to the center.

When I got to the main square, I saw with dread that it was packed full of people. Like, definitely more people than the town’s population, so it had to be a regional event. Mostly school-aged kids, along with a sprinkling of adults. Some end of year event, probably. I’m pretty sure everyone could tell – even if I hadn’t had my 75L backpack on – that I was an out-of-towner. Three preteen girls on a nearby bench eyed me.

I really didn’t want to walk through that throng of people, but the hostel I was going to check out was exactly caddy corner to me. Whatever, I thought angrily to myself, anticipating being judged and stared at, and started edging my way across the square.

Immediately three little kids ran up to me. “What’s your name?” they shouted with smiles.

They were genuinely curious about this strange out-of-towner with her hulking backpack. So we exchanged names, and then the English ran out, so we parted with a smile.

I walked into the hostel – the door was unlocked, but nobody was at home. I decided to give the owner a quick ring. Turned out she was gone to Batumi for the night but I was welcome to stay. I would have the entire apartment to myself.

I eagerly ditched my bag and headed off to the cable car. The view across the valley was already stunning – all green everywhere, mountaintops swathed in clouds. The woman at tourist information told me there were cafes across the valley, in the village of Tago, so I boarded the tiny red pillbox and got ready for eight minutes in heaven.

Guys, I felt like a drone. As if all that pristine aerial footage you see on travel Instagrams became my life.

We floated over the valley, and the operator even cracked the door so I could take a few photos (yeah, being 350 meters up in the air I was done with that after about two shots). We passed over miniature houses with their home gardens. One property even had two well-tended graves at the corner.

When we finally landed on the other side, the operator (through a young interpreter) gruffly asked me how long I would stay.

“Uhm, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?” I literally had no idea what was on this side of the valley.

“He says that’s a long time,” the young woman replied.

When I said I just wanted to get a coffee, they both nodded in satisfaction and the operator pointed me up the path. The only path, as if I could possibly get lost.

About twenty meters up the mud track a man was leaning against his wooden fence.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Coffee! Da!” and he motioned me into his yard.

So it turned out it wasn’t so much of a café as it was a transformed home garden, where I relaxed at a sheltered table while I sipped Turkish style coffee and nibbled on a small cake.

I love the mountains. I forget how much I love the mountains, because usually people go to the mountains to do athletic type things like skiing or hiking or camping and I usually decline those invitations. But being in the mountains – being in nature – tends to make people reflective. I didn’t have any deeply profound thoughts in the mountains of Adjara, but I had some solid commonplace ones. Not every meditation has to result in nirvana.

When I paid for my coffee, I tried to ask the man when he would be open the next day. After some rather inefficient miming (on my part), I figured that the ‘café’ would be open by 9:30.

“I’ll try to come back tomorrow,” I said, which probably made no sense to the Georgian man.

But I was in a dilemma. The woman at tourist information had suggested I take the bus heading the opposite direction of how I would come so I could see more of Adjara, but that bus left at 10am and the cable car started running at 9 – on no set schedule, so I could be stuck in Tago for a while. So, pass on coffee and see more of the scenery, or go back for round two and retrace my steps through Batumi on towards Kutaisi?

I did go back the next day. I decided to skip the bus heading towards Akhaltsikhe, my chance to window shop more of Adjara, in order to have coffee at the Garden Café (as I have now forever dubbed it) one more time. I would be ok if this was my daily coffee commute, I thought to myself, as I boarded the cable car. When you can have coffee with this view, why would you not?

Only it wasn’t just coffee. The owner offered me wine (it was 10:30 and I was on vacation, so why not?) and then brought out homemade compot made from their apricot trees. Eventually I had to down my compot and jumped up before he could offer me anything else. I had a bus to Batumi to catch.

Though this might be the only time in the world that I’ll say, I’m going to miss this commute.

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How to get to Khulo Georgia

If you’re looking for an easily accessible mountain adventure in Georgia, Khulo is a great destination. Multiple minibuses run between Batumi and Khulo each day, taking about two and a half hours for the trip (totally dependent on the weather and how often your driver needs to stop for errands). There is also one minibus a day that goes the opposite direction, towards Akhaltsikhe. It leaves Khulo in the morning, so plan accordingly.

If you want to stay in the region and explore the Adjarian mountains more, you have plenty of options. Two main treks take you to Green Lake and Khikhani Fortress, but each would require a little planning as they are more involved than just day hikes from Khulo. You don’t necessarily need camping gear, as there are plenty of guesthouses in Adjara. And in the winter, there are two ski resorts you can visit.

I did not have a reservation when I arrived in Khulo. I was traveling during the low season and felt confident I could find a place. I stayed at Hostel 13 which I was pretty satisfied with. It was clean, the beds were decently comfortable, there were lockers, and at 15 lari a night ($6) the price was right. Also, I was a little bit bummed the owner wasn’t around the night I was there. The hostel had a homey feel and she had pinned up notes from former guests talking about what fun they had with her.

The woman at tourist information said the region never reaches capacity, especially with plenty of guesthouses in the area, but if you like to make your plans ahead of time you can check out the best prices for Khulo hotels here.

Tourist information is super helpful. You can reach out to the Khulo Facebook page. The young woman working at the information center in Khulo was also incredibly obliging with very good English. You can call or email them as well.

The café in Tago is actually called Café Toma and you can find it on Google maps, reviews and all. What an age we live in.