The “Free” in Freeride: Georgia

At GoBeyond, we’ve been chasing good snow for decades, sometimes all the way to the far edges of the map. What we value most in every destination we visit is authenticity — getting to know the rich, lived heritage that gives each destination its character. In a magical, almost unexpected way, these two things come together in Georgia, on the eastern edge of Europe. In the interview below, our guide Levi shares his personal experiences from the region, and explains why this country has become such a meaningful part of our snow map.

How would you describe Georgia as a freeride destination?

The Caucasus mountains and the amount of snow they’ve been getting in recent years are what really make Georgia special. Freeriding here feels a bit like time travel: you’re not skiing next to sterile, perfectly engineered resort systems, but moving through an authentic mountain environment where the terrain hasn’t been fully tamed yet.

Why do you consider this region unique on the global freeride map?

This part of Georgia has managed to preserve a largely untouched mountain environment. The slopes aren’t covered with hotels, ski resorts, lifts, or ready-made solutions. For me, that makes a huge difference — the sense of freedom here is much stronger than in many Western European destinations.

What kind of terrain and snow conditions can participants expect?

The Caucasus is currently in a phase where climate change, somewhat paradoxically, is actually reinforcing snowy winters. The region sits at the meeting point of several major air masses: warm, moisture-rich air comes up from the Black Sea, while cold, dry air arrives from the northern steppes. Warmer seas mean more moisture in the air, and when that moisture meets cold temperatures at higher elevations, it falls as snow. Since winter temperatures in the Caucasus remain well below freezing, this results in longer, more stable snow periods rather than just a few good days here and there.

What safety protocols do you follow during the tour?

With experienced mountain guides, there’s no need for anything out of the ordinary. The terrain itself doesn’t require exceptional ski or snowboard skills, but it does require the right mindset — the Caucasus is raw, wild terrain where the role of mountain guides is crucial. Today, Georgian guides complete the same internationally certified training as their Alpine counterparts and meet the same professional standards. Anyone coming here to ski is genuinely in good hands.

What role do local culture and hospitality play during the tour?

They’re a big part of the experience. You meet people in a very authentic way, up on high mountain pastures and in small villages. These aren’t empty ski zones — people actually live in the mountain villages we ski around, and in many cases they host us and provide accommodation. You’re surrounded by a kind of hospitality that feels genuine and unforced, which adds a lot to the whole experience.

Is there any traditional Georgian dish you’d especially recommend?

At the end of each day, you’re welcomed with fresh, locally prepared meals.. Georgian cuisine is built on simple ingredients like meat, eggs, cheese, tomatoes, and peppers, but everything is fresh, bold, and full of flavor. The whole cuisine comes from variations of these basics.

They have great wines, excellent vegetables, and in the countryside you’ll find small gardens, real markets, and local producers everywhere. One dish you absolutely shouldn’t miss is khinkali, a traditional Georgian dumpling originally from the mountain regions. You’ll find it in restaurants everywhere, but in the mountains it’s on another level — freshly made, properly spiced, and prepared the way it’s meant to be.

What has been your most memorable experience on freeride trips in Georgia?

One evening after skiing, we were walking through a typical Georgian village with stone towers — not too late, heavy snow falling — looking for a place to have dinner. Out of the snowfall, two or three horses appeared, walking toward us on the road, completely on their own, no owner in sight. They stopped next to us as if they’d come over to say hello. We petted them, they stood there calmly, then carried on their way. After dinner, on the walk back, the same horses wandered up to us again, almost like they were picking up a conversation we’d left unfinished. That’s when we decided it was time for a selfie with them.

Another time, we were driving past a small village with our Georgian driver, who casually asked if we were hungry because he was thinking of stopping by a bakery to grab some bread. We went in with him, and from the outside it looked completely ordinary. Inside, though, there was a large circular clay oven (a tone) in the middle of the room. People were sticking the dough to the inside walls with incredible skill, baking fresh shoti bread. It honestly felt like being thrown 400 years back in time.

That’s Georgia for me: real-time time travel, but in a safe, welcoming environment. You find yourself in places and situations that feel completely unfamiliar compared to where you come from.

How has interest in freeride evolved in the Caucasus over the past few years?

In the mountains you’ll find everything from well-designed, comfortable accommodations to some pretty rough, low-quality places — though the latter are becoming less common. The region is definitely developing and modernising, but it’s still very authentic. That’s exactly what we’re looking for. These are places that can still genuinely surprise you, where the landscape feels untouched in a way that’s becoming increasingly rare elsewhere.

Why do you think other freeride enthusiasts should choose Georgia as well?

There are always very few tourists, the possibilities feel endless, and you can almost always find fresh snow. The terrain is steep and raw, a real adrenaline boost. At the same time, you get to experience how a post-Soviet country is changing in real time, almost like watching history unfold. And there’s a deep, genuine human kindness that still radiates from people here — something that’s harder to come by in more commercialised parts of the world.