Pasanauri and the Aragvi Confluence

Pasanauri is where the Aragvi becomes one river. The Black Aragvi comes down from the Gudamaqari valley to the north-east, dark with shale and shadow; the White Aragvi arrives from the west, pale grey with limestone silt washed off the Gudauri slopes. They meet at the northern edge of the village, and for two or three hundred metres below the junction the two currents run side by side without mixing — a clean, visible seam down the middle of the riverbed.

This is best in late spring and early summer, when both rivers are high and the colour difference is at its strongest. By late August the flows drop, the silt settles, and the effect fades to something you have to be told about before you can see it. Stand on the road bridge, or walk down to the shingle bank below it.

The village itself is a long strip of houses at 1,050 metres on the Georgian Military Highway, halfway between Ananuri and the climb to Gudauri. It grew as a Soviet climatic resort — the air is thin, cool and dry, and sanatoria sent patients here — and it remains a stopping place rather than a destination.

Pasanauri's second claim is khinkali. Locals will tell you the dumpling was invented in these mountains, where the meat was chopped rather than minced and cooked in its own juice. Whether or not the claim survives scrutiny, the roadside restaurants here take khinkali seriously and the standard is high. Trout farms along the river supply the other half of the menu.

Above the village the highway narrows and begins to climb. Pasanauri is the last place with a proper choice of shops and cafés before Gudauri, and in winter it is where drivers stop to fit chains or to wait out a closure at the pass.