Travel blog
Travel to South Ossetia
Of all the Caucasus republics, the Republic of South Ossetia appealed to me most because there's far less information about it and its attractions online than about the other Caucasian republics. There are no package tours available, and travel offers for this destination are mostly limited to day trips from Vladikavkaz.
I wanted to see everything at once to get a comprehensive understanding of the country. This required at least a week. Considering that most of South Ossetia's attractions are natural, and hotels are only available in Tskhinvali, we decided to camp overnight in beautiful natural settings rather than return to the capital every day. In my opinion, this contributed to a more holistic appreciation of the country's beauty.
I consider the village of Nar to be the beginning of our South Ossetian road trip. Although located in North Ossetia, it lies right on the border with South Ossetia and holds significant significance for Ossetians as a whole, as it is the birthplace of Kosta Khetagurov, a poet, publicist, and artist of the late 19th century, the founder of the Ossetian literary language. The village houses the poet's house-museum and a memorial complex with a monument. The village's landscapes are also impressive, with several dilapidated tower complexes and mountain peaks on the horizon. But the most powerful impression for me personally was the words from Kosta Khetagurov's poem, written on the bridge over the river: "The whole world is my temple, love is my shrine, the universe is my Fatherland." A statement that resonates deeply with me, and which I'll definitely use as a social media post someday.
Nar, as I already wrote, is a border village. Crossing the border between Russia and South Ossetia from the Russian side takes quite a long time (a line of about 6-7 cars and various formalities delayed us for about 2 hours). On the South Ossetian side, border guards limit themselves to a quick glance at your documents and the question: "Are you tourists?" After receiving an affirmative answer, they ask no further questions and let you through with best wishes.
After crossing the border, we headed along a picturesque serpentine road to the capital of South Ossetia, Tskhinvali. Here, a few more formalities awaited us. The fact is that a significant portion of the republic's attractions are located in the border zone, which cannot be accessed without a pass. The pass is issued by the republic's FSB on the day of application. The procedure is simple: you fill out an application and receive a pass. However, there is one "but": to obtain a pass, you need to register your route with the Ministry of Emergency Situations, which is a completely different building, not marked on the map, which still needs to be found. We completed the task of finding the Ministry of Emergency Situations building in about thirty minutes, but we found ourselves during a lunch break, which, in keeping with southern tradition, lasted not an hour, but a full two. During this time, we almost felt at home on the sofa in the office of the guard on duty at the checkpoint, who hospitably invited us to wait with him. By four o'clock in the afternoon, the formalities were finished, and we set off to explore the republic's sights.
Tskhinvali seemed cozy, but too quiet for a state capital. The enormous rose bushes that grew outside almost every private home, blooming in large, colorful clusters, made a strong impression.
The small shops selling baked lavash on the spot—still warm and crispy—seemed unusual and very charming. The absence of Ossetian pies was surprising. For some reason, before the trip, I imagined they would be offered everywhere. In fact, there were quite a few signs offering them, but they all required phone orders, and we wanted to just show up and buy without any prior arrangements. In short, we didn't get to try any pies in South Ossetia, but the lavash was beyond praise, and paired with homemade cheese, it made me forget all about those previously coveted pies.
Another pleasant discovery: Ossetian wines. I'd had the chance to try them before. But for some reason, they only import a couple of varieties to Russia; the brand store in Tskhinvali has a much wider selection, and the prices are more reasonable.
The goal of our first day in South Ossetia was to reach Lake Ertso, which, as many sources promised, is one of the most picturesque places in the republic. There are several routes to the lake from Tskhinvali, but we chose the Zar Road. The main attractions along this route are connected to the military conflict between South Ossetia and Georgia, as it was along the Zar Road that many civilians fled South Ossetia during the Georgian blockade. Along the way, there are several monuments dedicated to those who died as a result of the conflict. I wouldn't say that military themes are particularly close to my heart, but given the importance of the events associated with the Zar Road for the Ossetians themselves, it was definitely worth a visit. Furthermore, the road is quite picturesque, offering many panoramic views, and there are practically no cars, as everyone takes the shorter route along the main Transcaucasian Highway rather than driving extra kilometers along the Zar serpentines. For us, from a tourist perspective, it was undoubtedly more interesting to take the longer, but more beautiful and historically significant route.
We arrived at Lake Ertso at the best time of day, at sunset. First, we climbed to the observation deck to admire the panorama of the lake. From there, the lake and the surrounding landscapes were stunning in their beauty.
I was extremely intrigued by the yellow flowers blooming all around the lake. Descending closer to the berg, we saw that they were bright yellow rhododendrons; I'd never seen anything like them before – very beautiful.
The lake is truly very picturesque. We camped overnight right on the shore.
In the morning light, the lake looked different, but no less beautiful.
A new day – new goals. Today we headed to the Tsona Valley. After passing several picturesque, sparsely populated villages, we found ourselves at the foot of Mount Bub. We knew that on its slopes there was a large cave, renowned as a site of ancient human habitation. This would have been all well and good, but finding the cave on the slope of a fairly large mountain turned out to be a very difficult task, especially considering that it wasn't marked on any map, there were no trails or tracks leading to it, and the coordinates we found online were incorrect. Nevertheless, the panoramic views of the Tsona Valley from the mountain were worth the climb.
We spent about a couple of hours trying to find the unmarked cave, but we were unsuccessful. Despite this, we had no regrets about the wasted time, because both the mountain itself and the views from it were truly magnificent.
After descending Mount Bub, we headed to the town of Kvaysa, the second of two cities in the Republic of South Ossetia after its capital, Tskhinvali. Kvaysa is a very small town, with a population of just over 1,000 residents, more like a village than a city in our usual sense.
After strolling through the quiet streets of the town, we headed to another mountain lake – Lake Koz. The road climbed, revealing increasingly picturesque panoramas. It was impossible not to stop for a few photos.
Lake Koz is completely different from Lake Ertso, which we had seen the day before. While Ertso is located in an open space among blooming rhododendrons, Koz is nestled among a dense coniferous forest, quite unusual for this area. Before setting out on this trip, I read that many compare the landscapes of Lake Koz to Karelia. I disagree. The lake has a completely unique character, unlike anything else. The water has a green tint, is clean, transparent, and quite cold. In Ertso, the water was significantly warmer. Perhaps because Ertso is in an open space, while Koz is surrounded by forests, the altitude of Lake Koz is even lower than Ertso – only 1,567 meters.
After a swim in the lake (not taking a dip in this beautiful, clear water amidst the magnificent scenery would be a crime), we set off on a journey through the Kudar Gorge along the Dzhodzhora River. This gorge is considered one of the most beautiful in the country, ending in a valley of waterfalls in the neighboring Letskoye Gorge. The road along the Kudar Gorge is more like a route than a road, and the further into the forest (literally: by the end, we were simply slogging through bushes), the less passable it seemed. Despite this, we continued driving, demonstrating considerable tenacity. It was clear that vehicles rarely ventured onto this road, and, to confirm this statement, a bear, startled by the noise of our car, suddenly jumped out of the bushes, crossed the road right in front of our car, and, tucking its little tail between its legs, disappeared into the thicket on the other side. The road, meanwhile, soon ended, ending in a small abandoned village. All that remained of the village were a few ruined stone houses and a cemetery. We decided to stop here for the night, intending to head to the valley of waterfalls the next day. Of course, we had to explore the ruined buildings.
Looking at the remains of houses in the picturesque gorge, it's interesting to imagine the times when people lived in this village. What was life like, how long ago did they leave, and why? The morning was sunny and warm, promising another wonderful day, and we headed toward the Valley of Waterfalls, which promised even more impressive views than those we had already seen.
But, unfortunately, we weren't destined to see this beauty this time, as the path to the waterfall valley was blocked by a raging river. We hadn't taken into account that excursions to the waterfall valley are mostly held in August, and our trip fell in June, when the rivers are still quite full. A local we met, who had come fishing, confirmed that the river, impassable for us, turns into a small stream in late summer. Either way, we didn't see the waterfall valley this time, and now we have motivation to visit again.
This time, we set off on the return journey along the Kudar Gorge. We also planned to climb the Morakh Plateau to find a solitary stone cross, the origin of which is still unknown. The fact that we didn't know its exact coordinates or the exact route added to the "expedition"'s interest in finding the cross, nor the exact route, either. In our opinion, the logical choice was to take the road labeled Morakhskoye Highway on the map. The word "highway" seemed to suggest access by car, but this proved misleading. The "highway" looked more like a trail, so we had to abandon our vehicle and hike to the plateau. For about four kilometers, the trail was completely unsightly: bushes, puddles, mud, and mosquitoes. But then the bushes parted, revealing views that were worth the initial inconvenience: green mountains with snowfields on their peaks, the picturesque Kudar Gorge with the Dzhozhdora River below, and on the plateau itself, thickets of blooming yellow rhododendron.
The views were so beautiful that we forgot our destination was the Morakh Cross, which, by the way, was nowhere to be seen.
I can't say we were particularly upset by the lack of a cross in sight, as we were already quite impressed by the views that opened up to us, but our interest in sport didn't allow us to give up, and we decided to explore the plateau. After exploring the area and not finding the cross anywhere, we decided to descend a little to a small platform from where the village of Kobet, located below, was clearly visible, in order to make one last attempt to survey the area before beginning the journey back to the car. And then, completely unexpectedly, on the plateau spreading just below the one we were on, we saw something resembling a vertical stone structure, which could very well be the Moraha Cross. Having looked closely at the structure through the camera lens, we were indeed convinced that it was the cross we were looking for, and set off towards it. The cross truly turned out to be interesting: large (taller than a man), carved from stone, it stood alone in the middle of a completely uninhabited marshy plateau. Who, why, and when erected it is a mystery. What's impressive isn't even the size of the cross itself, but rather its solitary presence amidst the picturesque mountain scenery.
Satisfied that we had achieved this goal, we returned to the car and continued on our way. Our goals for the day also included visiting two fortresses: Khevo and Achabet. Despite significant damage, the fortresses had not lost their appeal and stood harmoniously against the surrounding landscape.
These fortresses are not museums; you can visit them at any time of day, walk around, calmly examine everything, and climb wherever you like. Incidentally, this applies to almost all the attractions in South Ossetia, with the possible exception of the museum in Tskhinvali and the Palace of the Ksani Eristavis in Leningor.
I was struck by the ancient churches and monasteries, which are also open to everyone. You walk in, open the door, and there's no one inside. There are candles you can light, leaving the card in the box at your discretion. Yes, much of it is in ruins, but that hasn't lost its charm or appeal to tourists. I would say that experiencing antiquity when no one is standing over you—no museum curator, no tour guide, no church attendant—feels somehow more real, more personal. You're not limited by time, you can examine the details, soaking up the atmosphere of the place in peace and quiet.
A fascinating highlight of the day was a visit to the village of Gufta, with its picturesque old bridge from 1929, designed by German engineers.
Our plans for the first half of the next day revolved around Tskhinvali and its nearby environs. Although it seemed logical to spend the night at a hotel in the capital, for some reason we didn't want to. We didn't want to be immersed in city life; we wanted to be closer to nature, the mountain scenery, and the silence. So, for the night, we again camped in a tent, not far from the Achabet fortress.
The next morning began with a visit to the Tir Monastery, located near Tskhinvali in a very picturesque spot on a mountainside. The monastery is Georgian and no longer functions as a monastery, but you can light candles and buy souvenirs in the 13th-century church by simply leaving money in the box.
A quiet, secluded place where you can pleasantly spend time admiring the preserved frescoes of the 14th-15th centuries.
After exploring the monastery, we headed to Tskhinvali to visit the National Museum of South Ossetia.
An important part of any trip is the people you meet along the way. When describing our visit to the museum in Tskhinvali, I can't help but mention its wonderful director, Merab Maksimovich Zasseev, a truly passionate man. It so happened that when we entered the museum, he was in one of the halls. Noticing our interest, he began enthusiastically describing each exhibit, the complex process of restoring archaeological finds and antiquities, and how he personally undertakes this process. In the hall with paintings depicting scenes from Ossetian history and epic poetry, he gave fascinating explanations of the paintings, and at the end of the tour, he even invited us into his office, asked about our backgrounds and where we were from, and shared his contact information for future reference. The museum, where the director himself greeted us as honored guests, was bound to leave a positive impression on us, especially since the museum's exhibits were quite interesting. There were archaeological finds, household items, national clothing, and even a separate room with official gifts to the republic's presidents.
After leaving the museum, we moved on to the most anticipated part of the trip for me – we headed towards the village of Yerman, the highest village in South Ossetia. Our destination was not only the village itself, but also the Keli Plateau with its picturesque mountain lake located beyond.
Our route led through the beautiful Urs-Tual Gorge, past several noteworthy villages. In the village of Nizhniy Ruk, we stopped at a church, picturesquely situated against a backdrop of green mountain slopes. Near the village of Edisa, we climbed a hill with a ruined ancient church and a beautiful view of the village. We also collected water, which, according to locals, is the cleanest and tastiest in the republic. Finally, a winding mountain road led us to the picturesque village of Erman, nestled among green hills against a backdrop of mountain peaks, some covered in snow.
To be precise, it's worth noting that Yerman is divided into three parts: Upper, Middle, and Lower Yerman, of which only Lower Yerman is currently inhabited. Yerman's landmarks include an ancient cemetery with stone monuments and crosses, traditional Ossetian shrines, and a tower complex. The village's houses are also a sight to behold: clearly ancient, built in the traditional style from local stone with pointed roofs covered with wooden shingles. Being here feels like being transported to another century or another dimension. My personal associations are with paintings by 19th-century artists depicting mountain villages of that era, as if these landscapes had stepped straight from their canvases.
I'd like to tell you separately about the traditional Ossetian shrines. I've never seen anything like them anywhere before. We encountered three of them in the village of Yerman. One was dedicated to Taranjelos, the deity of fertility. The second, "Syrkh Dzuar," was dedicated to Uastyrdzhy, the patron saint of all men. The third, at the entrance to the village, was very similar to the first, but in worse condition; we found no information about it.
The shrines are small rectangular stone structures. One had a bell suspended from an arch, and the other, located on a mountain, was surrounded by a fence. Bells, coins, and empty water containers can be seen beneath the vaults of the shrines; all of these are brought here during festive rites.
We camped near the village: on one side, a river, a picturesque valley, and mountains; on the other, views of the village with ancient houses and a tower; and on the third, higher up, a dilapidated tower complex with stone buildings and crypts.
The path up to the high-mountain Keli plateau, where one of South Ossetia's most beautiful lakes, Keli Lake, lies among the peaks of extinct volcanoes, runs past this tower complex. This is where we headed the next day. We had to gain about 1,000 meters in altitude and climb the Keli Pass, which is 3,100 meters high (the village of Erman is located at an altitude of about 2,100 meters). As we climbed, the scenery changed quite rapidly: first, the green slopes gave way to fields of blooming rhododendrons, then snowfields appeared, and at the Keli Pass itself, sharp rocks, somewhat reminiscent of hedgehog spines, awaited us.
However, from the pass, we saw not the blue expanse of the lake, as we had previously seen in photos online, but vast snowfields with small thawed patches. The lake was barely visible beneath the ice, a bluer hue than the otherwise white landscape.
We decided not to descend to the lake; there was no point in climbing through snowdrifts to reach another. For a postcard-perfect view from the pass and the blue lake surface, you should probably come in August. But on the other hand, in August you won't encounter the vast rhododendron fields and the fresh, budding foliage, still vibrant with spring, along the way. Every beauty has its time.
The final day of our South Ossetian journey was notable for its visit to several ancient churches and the palace of the Ksani Eristavis in the village of Leningor.
First, let's talk about the churches. The first two: an 18th-century church in the village of Kulbit and a 10th-century church in the village of Diseu, were lost in the thickets near the Ossetian-Georgian border. The first church was located on a hill with picturesque views, while the second, older church was in a lowland. Both required trekking through thorny bushes, suggesting they're not the most popular tourist attractions. Nevertheless, the churches are striking for their preserved stone carvings and ancient masonry.
The next temple on our route is better known online and popular with tourists – the Ikort Temple. Its relative fame is well-deserved: it boasts ornate stone carvings, numerous preserved tombstones, one of which bears an inscription indicating that it belongs to a certain princess, and preserved frescoes. The surrounding landscape is also impressively beautiful: picturesque green hills and the remains of a stone fortress nearby. We settled down for lunch right next to the temple. Isn't it wonderful to have a snack with such a view?
After lunch, we continued on our way. The road ran right along the border with Georgia, so from our higher vantage point, we could see the neighboring country at a glance, and our mobile phone operator repeatedly welcomed us to Georgia. We headed through picturesque mountain passes toward the village of Leningor, and along the way we came across another interesting church – the Armaz Church of St. George. Interestingly, we read about it on the way; it wasn't on our original itinerary. In my experience, it's the places and sights that aren't part of the plan and are discovered spontaneously during a trip that often turn out to be the most memorable. Perhaps because you have expectations about the places you've planned, somehow imagining them before the trip, whereas the places you discover during the trip are unrelated to those expectations and are always an unexpected and pleasant surprise. The Armaz Church turned out to be truly one of the highlights of the trip. Built in 864, it was striking in its antiquity. Inside, ancient paintings have been preserved, clearly older than those we'd seen in previous churches.
The church is nestled among greenery, a quiet place evoking a sense of peace, tranquility, and contemplation. Having savored this wonderful atmosphere, we continued on our way. In the village of Leningor, the administrative center of the district of the same name, our goal was to see the palace of the Ksani Eristavis—a princely family that owned these territories from the 15th to the 19th centuries. The palace now houses a local history museum, but we weren't aiming to get inside. We realized we'd arrived after the museum had closed, and our interest lay not in the palace's interior, which hasn't survived, but in its exterior. The palace is small but extremely interesting, surrounded by a fortified wall with towers.
The carved balconies stretching along the entire second floor of the palace looked interesting and unusual. Since the museum was already closed, the gates of the fortress wall surrounding the palace were also closed, making it impossible to enter the courtyard. And then, once again, a stroke of luck came our way. A lot of those (surprisingly many!) happen on our trips! A museum security guard happened to be nearby. Watching from a nearby car and noticing our interest in the building, he opened the gates, allowed us into the palace courtyard, and up to the carved balconies. This was an amazing stroke of luck, providing a wonderful experience: the play of sun and shadow on the wooden carvings of the balconies and the green foliage of the trees surrounding the palace was so beautiful.
The guard couldn't take us inside the palace; he's not allowed to, but we weren't rushing to, as time was running out and we wanted to see another beautiful place – the village of Largvis with its 18th-century church. On the way, we stopped by the convent in the village of Ikot. The monastery is active, and according to its rules, outsiders are not allowed on the grounds. However, peering over the fence into the cozy and clean courtyard was worth the short detour and drive up to the monastery. The surrounding scenery is also more than picturesque.
We left the monastery grounds and headed further toward the village of Largvis. Another surprise awaited us along the way: driving along the bank of the Ksani River, we noticed a small stone church perched on a cliff on the opposite bank. The church looked very old and miniature; perhaps it wasn't even a church, but a chapel. We crossed the bridge to take a closer look. Since the chapel was closed, we couldn't get inside, but the structure, skillfully integrated into the surrounding landscape by some ancient architect, was quite interesting to explore up close.
Meanwhile, the daylight was rapidly waning; we arrived in Lagvis practically at sunset. Had we been anywhere else, we would have been unlikely to get inside the church at that hour. But this is South Ossetia, and to enter the church here, you only need to turn the door handle. We first opened the gates to the temple courtyard, then went into the church... There was the same pleasant semi-darkness and a candle box, just like in the churches we'd visited before; no one bothered us... We looked around, lit candles, took photos, and left, closing the doors and gates behind us. Peace and quiet!
This was the final point of our South Ossetian sightseeing program. Then came the return to Tskhinvali, and then the drive to the Russian border in complete darkness. As we drove through the pass near the Georgian border, we saw a sea of ??Georgian lights below. It's significantly darker in South Ossetia, with only Tskhinvali having bright lights. We deliberately planned to cross the border at night, hoping for fewer people, but our expectations weren't entirely met, as we found ourselves in a line of guests returning from a wedding. There were a typical Caucasian crowd, so we still had to wait at the border for a while.
This was our journey to the least-known republic of the Caucasus, the amazing South Ossetia. Even though we got to know the country quite thoroughly, we were left with a feeling of uncertainty and a desire to return to finally cross the river and reach the valley of waterfalls, see Lake Keli free of ice, and finally find the Bubskaya Cave.