Abano Pass
Best for the classic overland approach
Every shepherd road in Tusheti begins here, because there is no other way in. Abano Pass climbs to 2,926 metres on an unpaved track that is the single physical link between Tusheti and the rest of Georgia, passable only from late June to early October before the first snow seals it shut. Shepherds have crossed it with their flocks for longer than anyone can date; today the same route carries 4WDs in convoy, low gear grinding past scree slopes with no guardrail and no phone signal. The summit viewpoint delivers the entire Greater Caucasus unfolding south toward Dagestan, and in July and August you will likely pass a seasonal shepherd encampment near the top, sheep and horses grazing exactly where they always have. Treat the crossing as the experience, not the commute: it explains, in three or four hours of switchbacks, why Tusheti kept its towers, its dialect, and its rituals intact long after the rest of highland Georgia modernised. Hire a driver rather than attempting it yourself.
Omalo
Best for basing a whole trip
Omalo is Tusheti's only year-round inhabited village and the natural hub for every road that follows. Split between a lower village with the region's few guesthouses and services, and an upper village (Zemo Omalo) where 16th-century cylindrical koshki towers still stand on a plateau above the Pirikiti Alazani valley, it served for centuries as Tusheti's administrative and defensive centre. The Tush Ethnographic Museum, housed in a restored tower, is the best introduction anywhere in the region to the weaponry, ritual objects, and photographs documenting the shepherds' seasonal migration. Stone cemeteries below the village carry pagan-Christian hybrid grave markers unique to this dialect and this valley. Most visitors sleep here at least one night before or after walking to Dartlo, Shenako, or further into the Pirikiti Valley, and Omalo is also where the annual Tushetoba festival gathers returning herders each August for horse racing, wrestling, and feasting. If you can only manage one base, this is it.
Dartlo
Best for tower-house architecture
Dartlo is the most architecturally complete of Tusheti's villages, its silver-grey slate houses and 9th-to-10th-century defensive towers climbing a terraced hillside above the Pirikiti Alazani River. Abandoned during Soviet collectivisation, it was resettled only in the 1990s, and careful restoration since has preserved the distinctive Tush building style: two-storey houses with overhanging upper floors, stone-paved lanes, and towers originally built against Lezgin raids and blood feuds. A handful of families still keep the seasonal rhythm of shepherding that defined the whole region, driving flocks up from Kakheti each summer. Dartlo also functions as the trailhead for the road onward to the smaller, less-restored villages of Kvavlo and Chesho, making it the natural pivot point of any multi-day walk through the Pirikiti Valley. Come for the towers, but stay for the near-total quiet — the loudest sound most afternoons is the river below the village and the bells of returning sheep.
Shenako
Best for Tusheti's living faith
Shenako sits at 2,080 metres on the southern slope of the Pirikiti Alazani valley and is one of the few Tush villages never fully emptied during Soviet-era deportations. Its centrepiece is St. George's Church, consecrated in 1843 and built entirely of carved wood without a single nail — the last functioning example of Tusheti's wooden church tradition, its steep shingle roof rising in tiers against the Caucasus skyline. The village also holds the densest cluster of slate-roofed towers and houses left in Tusheti, still used by families who spend summers here with their flocks before returning to Kakheti for winter. Ancient transhumance trails climb from Shenako to the high pastures (izpo) each June, walked by shepherds and sheep in a pattern unchanged for generations, with views across the ridge toward the Dagestan border. There is no reconstructed museum here, only a community whose architecture and rituals evolved on their own terms across centuries of isolation.
Dano
Best for the trail beyond the last road
Dano sits at 2,000 metres in the Pirikiti valley, one of Tusheti's most intact medieval settlements and, unlike better-known Omalo, largely free of summer crowds. Its 16th-century koshkebi towers cluster at the village centre among some of the best-preserved defensive architecture in the valley, and families still keep ancestral homes with slate roofs and carved wooden balconies. Hilltop shrines (khatebi) mark the approach, where locals leave offerings before the seasonal move to summer pasture. Dano's real draw is what starts beyond it: the trail to Bochorna, Europe's highest permanently inhabited settlement at 2,340 metres, threading past abandoned terrace fields and old shepherd shelters. This is Tusheti stripped of any concession to tourism — neighbours greet each other in the Tush dialect, and the landscape does the rest of the talking. Reach it only via the unpaved road from Kakheti over Abano Pass, and check conditions with park rangers before setting out.
Parsma
Best for solitude
Parsma clings to a mountainside in the Dartlo community, its medieval stone towers rising among houses that empty out every winter exactly as they have for centuries. The 16th-century defensive towers here, with their narrow loopholes and corbelled stonework, are among the best-preserved in Tusheti, built by clan families for protection during an era of blood feuds and raids from beyond the ridge. What sets Parsma apart from its more visited neighbours is the near-total absence of restoration or reconstruction: overgrown terraced fields and old fruit trees are quietly reverting to meadow, and the village carries a stillness that feels closer to abandonment than heritage tourism. There is nothing to buy here and nowhere formal to stay — Parsma rewards a short detour on foot from Dartlo more than an overnight stop, and it is best visited as one stage of a longer walk through the Pirikiti Valley rather than a destination in its own right.
Kvavlo
Best for unrestored ruins
Kvavlo sits in Tusheti's Chagma valley, its 16th-to-18th-century defensive towers rising like vertical sentinels, some intact and others weathered down to bare stone. Where Dartlo and Omalo have seen restoration, Kvavlo remains largely as it was left, its crumbling walls and abandoned houses preserving an unvarnished version of Tush architecture: thick stone bases, narrow slit windows built for gunfire, and communal rooms where families once sheltered together during raids. A partially collapsed three-storey tower at the village centre still shows its original wooden floor beams. Old terrace fields descend toward the Alazani River, the last visible trace of an agricultural system that once sustained life at this altitude. There are no guesthouses in Kvavlo itself, so plan on a homestay in a neighbouring village or a tent — this is Tusheti not staged as heritage, but simply left to stand or fall on its own terms.
Diklo
Best for standing at the actual frontier
Diklo clings to a mountainside at 1,900 metres, at the point where the Greater Caucasus meets the Dagestan border. Its 13th-century twin-towered fortress was built by the Tush specifically to repel raids from across that frontier, and its crenellated slate-and-mortar walls still bristle above the valley. The village of perhaps fifty stone houses was emptied during Soviet collectivisation and only slowly reclaimed by shepherds after independence — today it marks the practical end of the drivable road, with the border itself visible and tangible rather than abstract. A trail continues from the upper village toward the Samkinvrostsveri Pass, a route shepherds still use to move stock close to the frontier. Diklo is not a stop for comfort or facilities; it is worth the extra hour of rough track precisely because it feels like the edge of somewhere, best seen at dawn when mist blurs the line between Georgia and what lies beyond it.
The Atsunta Pass Crossing
Best for a multi-day trek into Khevsureti
For shepherds moving flocks between Tusheti and neighbouring Khevsureti, the Atsunta Pass at 3,430 metres was the working road, not a hiking route — and it remains the way to genuinely connect the two regions on foot today. The crossing takes three to four days, climbing out of the Pirikiti Valley through wild rhododendron slopes and habitat for bearded vultures before dropping into Khevsureti's Arkhoti valley and, eventually, the fortress-village of Shatili with its sixty interlocked medieval towers. This is unmarked, unguided terrain in parts, with river crossings that turn dangerous after rain, and it demands a local guide, proper gear, and a realistic weather window between late June and September. It is included here not as an extreme add-on but as the truest expression of what these roads were for: moving people and animals across a mountain range that tourism still has not tamed. Attempt it only if you have multi-day trekking experience and time to spare either side of it.
