Ninoskhevi Waterfall, Also Known as Gurgeniani Waterfall, in Lagodekhi National Park, Kakheti: a Wonder of Georgia
Ninoskhevi, also known as Gurgeniani, is a beautiful waterfall in the lush green forest of Lagodekhi National Park in the popular wine region of Kakheti. This one is about forty meters high and falls ferociously.
From Lagodekhi, I had hitchhiked to the trail starting point. I walked down to the main road. From there, I hitchhiked in a car, which dropped me at the beginning of the Ninoskhevi Waterfall Road. This driver was interested in knowing why I was alone, where my husband was, and how old I was. These are questions that always come from men who pick up women hitchhikers thinking there would be something more in it for them. I was bored and annoyed by the time I got out of the car.
Now I walked on the side road. It was seven kilometers to the waterfall. The sun was shining, and the ladies outside a market at the beginning of the street replied to my hello cheerfully. I was happy, walking briskly, often turning around to see if a car was coming by. After a while, I was picked up by a car that had four passengers. I squeezed myself in. The gentleman dropped his passengers one by one in the small villages on the way and brought me to the beginning of the waterfall. When he turned around his car, I understood that he had driven extra for my sake. I was thankful.
Such positive experiences and simple generosity help me forget the bad experiences. I didn’t see any mashrutka, or public minivan, on this route. How do people travel? I think they all hitchhike with each other.
The Gurgeniani ranger station at the beginning of the waterfall told me about the way. A ranger who had also seen me at the ranger station in Lagodekhi grinned upon seeing me. He pointed to me, and, I think, said many times that he remembered me from the other day. I was also happy to see this cheerful ruddy-faced round ranger. I signed and put down my name and phone number, and I was on my way.
The narrow trail through the forest soon took me to the river, where another ranger was waiting for the hikers. I started climbing up the rocks, which were marked with the trail sign, but he stopped me and started coming to get me. The river was flowing ferociously, and multiple trees were laid across the river, on one of which the ranger was now walking.
He came to me and motioned that we had to walk through the river, holding the rocks on our left side. He asked where I was from. “India,” I shouted over the river. “Oh, welcome welcome.” “You are alone?” He asked. I replied that yes, I was. “Brave girl,” the old man said.
We were in the extreme left corner of the river. I took off my shoes. The ranger picked them up one by one and kept them beyond the water. Then I walked behind him, my feet freezing in the cold water, taking one step at a time, feeling the depth with my stick that I had just picked up. He was often turning around, offering his hand, but it was not needed. I had the wet rocks to hold onto, and I also had the stick. He still held onto my right hand in which I had grasped the stick, and I appreciated the gesture.
Before we climbed up on the logs, he told me I could wear my shoes. My feet were a bit wet, and dry leaves and other forest material had stuck to them. I brushed off the feet with my hands and put on my shoes.
I was giggling while crossing the river. I held onto one of the logs, and on the other, I walked. The log shook beneath my feet, and when I looked down, the river was flowing under my feet. It was loud. I was laughing because I couldn’t believe what I was doing.
Once on the other side, on the big rocks, the ranger explained to me the way. He said he had just started learning English, and he spoke, “So, so.” It would turn out that “so, so” was his favorite term, and he would use it abundantly. In explaining the way he told me, I had to go up and down and right, mostly right, and I needed to see the sign. “If you see good, then go. So so.” According to him, the bridges were all fine further ahead. “You see sign good, go so so.”
He stood close to me, and his breath smelled of alcohol. It is understandable that by the side of a lone river, waiting for hikers, listening to the forest, all day, he needed some homemade wine to keep him company. I didn’t dwell on it. When he had explained the way to me three times, he returned to his position, and I wandered around a stream, trying to find a way to cross.
I did, of course, so, so. I would cross multiple such streams to the waterfall.
The forest was deep, mainly full of chestnut trees. The trees were high, their leaves fresh, and they glowed in the sun. Birds chirped, and if there were other animals, they stayed elusive to me.
I didn’t have to worry about water. The multiple streams and small falls were enough to fill my bottle. In the register at the beginning of the hike, I had seen that only a French (Paris), two Dutch (Leiden), and three other travelers (not sure from which country) had gone for the hike. I had begun at 10:40 or so. Maybe they had left much earlier and would be returning now? I was not sure, but I was happy that there were a few people on the trail.
That was good. Unlike the Black Grouse waterfall, not even a single dog was following me. I was happy in my own company.
The signs said I would reach in two hours, but I was walking slowly. I was on the second day of my period, and the walk was uphill. The trail was marked all the way, and the ranger had said I could take the shortcuts if I liked. It was amazing that thousands of miles away in the Indian Himalayas, locals call the steep cuts that take you to the trail shortcuts, and in Georgia, too, locals called them shortcuts.
I climbed up some shortcuts and avoided some. The steep climbs were not so easy for me that day, and, anyway, I was enjoying my time in the forest. I ambled along the long trail which was mainly a lot of switchbacks along multiple mountains that were covered in fallen decaying yellow leaves and small branches. The chestnut trees shaded the forest so thickly at places that the sun never reached the ground. My feet slipped once or twice, but the track, thick with mulch, wasn’t that bad. Crossing the streams over small logs and stones was fun too.
Somewhere on the way, the Dutch were walking down. The two girls were chatting with each other nonstop. We didn’t even say hello to each other. I had walked ahead, and they were climbing down from behind me. Further on, the French was coming down. I couldn’t say if it was a man or a woman. It didn’t matter. The hiker had a big backpack, and they walked with two hiking poles. Tick tack, tick tack was the sound now. I got onto the side, giving them space, and we exchanged sombre hellos as they sped by.
I sat down to pee. Multiple signs on the trail kept reporting the time and distance left. I still had an hour, then fifty minutes, forty, thirty, and so on. On a Danish traveler’s recommendation, I had downloaded the app Parks.ge and also had downloaded the trail offline. But I never had to use it.
Towards the last half an hour or so, the track also went down a bit and straight ahead too.
Before the main waterfall, several other falls were crashing down the mountain wall across from me. After about three hours of starting, I finally heard the loud gush. Then I saw it.
The Danish traveler had expressed how he wanted to go to the waterfall, if only he had another day. That it was 50 meters tall, and it would be a sight to see. I hadn’t replied to him, but I had thought, “Fifty? That is nothing. In India, the Jog Falls are 250 meters high.”
When I arrived at the Ninoskhevi waterfall, I was amazed. Maybe I had seen the Jog Falls, but I had not seen them at their prime in the monsoon. When I visited the Jog Falls, they were a narrow stream. The Ninoskhevi waterfall was a ton of water crashing down with a roar every second. White as milk, frothy as soap, in a forest as green as if it were born that day. I visited the waterfall in mid-May, and the trees had new spring leaves. So it was, yes, recently born.
I walked down the trail, carefully stepping onto the fenced rocks. You could not approach this waterfall, and standing in front of that ferocious volume of water falling down into a large pool that rushed further down the rocks and into the ravine, I didn’t even want to. Swimming was not allowed, thankfully.
I closed my eyes many times. When I opened them up, the white waterfall in the neon green forest was too good to be true. Was I dreaming? I knew I was in a sacred place.
I was alone, of course. I couldn’t eat my sandwich at the big rocks, where the spray of water cooled me to my bones. In front of me were more big rocks where I noticed a food packet. There must be a way to get there. I can sit down and have lunch.
There was a way, alright. Down a steep short path, I arrived at the big rocks. Here I laid down my stick, washed my face, and ate my sandwich, with the view of the magnificent waterfall, Ninoskhevi. What a joy to have witnessed it!
A small bird with a patch of green on her flitted about, diving up and down, from this stone to that, from here to there, before a second she was already in the air, somersaulting. What was she up to? I couldn’t say. There were two birds, and I believed they had put on a show for me. Did they find bugs? I didn’t see them. Were they after flies? I am not sure.
The sandwich stuffed with a spicy fried potato mash filled me up. It was so thick I had to gulp it down with water. And after about three pm, and several pictures later, I started walking back.
A group of fifteen people crossed me, one by one. I was thankful that I was already leaving when they arrived. A few minutes later, I would see two of them fallen down face down on steep rocks, with one of them severely injured. That wasn’t a tricky part of the trail; it was a simple step over a shallow stream, so I don’t know how they fell. I had heard them fall but not seen them fall. I had arrived a second later. Their friend rushed ahead to catch hold of the ones gone ahead.
I shouted from above, “Are you okay, are you okay?” When no one replied, I walked on. They must have been in shock. Probably they didn’t hear me. And what would they say? They were not okay. One of them, I don’t want to describe here. It was horrible to see.
I walked slowly, but the injured guy was now returning with two of his friends, probably hoping to get to medical help as quickly as he could. I let them go. Further ahead, I would run into more hikers. The two rangers, one who had been happy to see me and the one who had helped me cross the river, were also on the trail now.
As soon as they saw me, they screamed in excitement, “India, India.” They were genuinely happy to see me. Either they had been worried about me or were just glad to perhaps ask me a question or two about the accident. I tried describing the incident, but they didn’t understand English. The one who had helped me said, “I go so so,” and he started turning towards the trail. They also asked me if they had had vodka, and I said I didn’t know. I didn’t know.
Further on, the track was filled with rangers, police, and patrolling police. They were waiting here and there, their faces anxious and filled with confusion. The injured guy was right ahead of us, followed with multiple patrolling police, and slowly their whole group was returning.
Ninoskhevi, or the Gurgeniani, isn’t a dangerous hike, but you are in the forest, so you have to mind your step. I don’t know how they fell. I hope they are all okay now.
Some Logistics
Unlike on the Black Grouse waterfall, rangers on this one do not speak much English but are very helpful. I think there is only one ranger who speaks English and is always at Black Grouse, a more popular waterfall.
My experience is dependent on the season, of course. I went in mid-May. Rain, water, the condition of the hiking trail, etc., would all change in other seasons. Of course, carry food. One bottle of water is enough.
Where to Stay in Lagodekhi?
Don’t stay at Guesthouse ASIS. I think I have a review on their listing, so not going into details here. Maybe later I will.
You can choose Green Corner, a small family-run guesthouse with two rooms only. The family lives on the ground floor in a large gardened house where they grow many vegetables and have many fruit trees. Their chickens keep things lively, too. There is a big dog who is a bit demanding about food, but once ignored, he won’t bother much. The upstairs with the guest rooms is quite private.
I took a twin room with an outdoor bathroom. The bigger room has an attached bathroom. There is a kitchen which is almost fully equipped. There is a nice terrace overlooking the mountains and trees of the surrounding homes. There is a dining table for two in the kitchen and a bigger table on the terrace, which also worked as my work table.
The family doesn’t climb up and gives you space. Sometimes the old grandmother came up to switch off some lights and perhaps just to check on me. I avoided her in general because after a day she started to pretend that she didn’t understand me and was hard to deal with even for basic things. Luckily, at my time, the daughter-in-law of the house was there. She spoke good English, was visiting from Tbilisi, and it was with her that I coordinated the things I needed. And later on, with her mother-in-law, who was very sweet.
Everything is done through the Booking app. You don’t get a WhatsApp number of the host, but message through Booking, and she would respond. The price I paid for my twin room with the bathroom outside was 36 gel if booked online and 30 gel if booked directly. The bigger room with a private bathroom was 40 gel. I recommend this stay as you are a bit far from the market, about a twenty-minute walk, but closer to the park. You climb up the road, turn right, and are at the river, which you can then follow to the park. If you are closer to the market, you would be far from the park. So you can choose.
I recommend Green Corner highly. The gas was a four-burner one with multiple cooking equipment, a coffee maker, and so on. A gas kettle only. A big fridge and a washing machine in the kitchen were also provided. I could use the machine whenever I needed and hang my clothes out on the permanent wires affixed to the balconies.
You could book your stay at Green Corner here.
Final notes:
A guy on the Lagodekhi Waterfall road started following me and stalked me until Lagodekhi onto my guesthouse street. I wish I had taken a picture of him to share. What a creep! Even after multiple threats of calling the police, he didn’t leave. I didn’t have a Georgian number; I would have called the police.
I request the park authorities to arrange for some transport or help to go to the trail starting point from Lagodekhi. And for the police to be more vigilant, not just in checking tourists, but also in making sure the tourists are safe and sound.
I have hiked to many waterfalls in multiple countries, but Ninoskhevi was special. Huge, pristine, and a treat to the eyes. Let me know how you like it 🙂
Would you love to visit the Ninoskhevi waterfall too?
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