Probably one of the toughest hiking experiences we’ve ever had.
As always, it was the three of us—me, Tako, and Ann.
It all started when we found an interesting tour from a company called Kvali Hiking. “Kvali” means footprint in Georgian, which already felt fitting. But what really caught our attention was the destination: Codviani Lake.
“Codviani” means sinner.
So basically—Sinner Lake.
There’s an old story about this place. In the past, people and cattle were said to disappear into the lake without a trace. No explanation, no remains. Just gone. Mysterious, slightly unsettling… and of course, that made us want to go even more.
We booked it without hesitation.
We also knew it wouldn’t be easy—around 30+ kilometers in total.
The Beginning
When the day came, we reached the starting point and began preparing our gear—sunscreen, food, backpacks. Before we started, I took a photo of Ann and Tako. I already had an idea for a before vs after collection.
Soon enough, everyone was ready, and the hike began.
There was no gentle start. The trail immediately went uphill.
Heavy backpacks pressed into our shoulders, and within minutes, we were already breathing harder. It felt like the mountain didn’t want to give us even a moment to adjust.
We started in the forest, surrounded by shade and trees, which helped a bit. But after about an hour, people were already getting exhausted. When we exited the forest, the landscape opened up, revealing old stone temples—half-broken, forgotten, standing quietly in the mountains like remnants of another time.
We kept moving forward.
The terrain quickly became more demanding. The trail went up and down constantly, but somehow it always felt like we were climbing. Each step felt heavier than the last, like our legs were moving out of habit rather than choice.
The Struggle
After a few hours, we reached a river and stopped to rest.
The water was freezing cold, but incredibly refreshing. One sip felt like it reset the entire body. We sat there for a while, eating, talking less than before—saving energy without even realizing it.
Then we continued.
The trail didn’t get any easier. In some places, the grass was so tall and the ground so steep that we had to grab onto it just to keep our balance. Even small progress required effort, like the mountain was resisting every step forward.
At one point, Ann was completely soaked in sweat. She had dyed her hair a few days earlier, and the color actually started dripping down. It looked so absurd in that moment that we couldn’t stop laughing. Somehow, those small moments made everything feel lighter.
The Final Push
After hours of hiking, we reached the base of the final climb.
Everyone was tired. Not just physically—mentally too. You could feel it in the group. Some people were openly complaining, others just walked in silence.
One guy in our group, a former special forces member, stood out. He was in incredible shape, but more importantly, he kept helping others—taking their backpacks for a while, encouraging them to keep going. It shifted the mood. Complaints became quieter. People pushed a little harder.
Then came one of the funniest moments of the day.
Our guide, Giorgi, suddenly pointed into the distance and said, “Look, there’s a bear!”
We all froze and stared. Our tired brains started playing tricks on us—shapes in the distance began to move, shadows turned into something alive.
For a few seconds, it felt real.
Then he laughed and admitted it was a prank.
We all burst out laughing. And just like that, the exhaustion loosened its grip for a moment.
The Reward
With one final push, we reached the lake.
After everything, it almost didn’t feel real at first.
The place was completely open—no trees, no shelter—just mountains surrounding a still, quiet lake. The water didn’t move. The air felt heavier somehow, like everything had paused.
For a moment, I remembered the old story. People disappearing without a trace.
Standing there, looking at that silent water, it didn’t feel like just a story anymore. There was something about the place—calm, but slightly unsettling at the same time.
But more than anything, it felt worth it.
We set up our tents, completely exhausted and hungry. I took out my stove, and we prepared a hot meal. In an alpine environment like that, where there’s no wood for a fire, a simple hot meal feels like luxury.
As the sun went down, the place became even more beautiful.
That evening, the three of us sat inside our tent. I had brought red wine, and we shared a few glasses. We talked about life, past experiences, things we had never said out loud before.
It was one of those rare moments where time slows down.
Later, I went outside to take astrophotography shots. The moon rose, casting a pale light over the lake. The whole place looked mysterious, almost unreal.
I remembered the legend again—and felt a slight chill run down my spine.
That night, we all slept like the dead.
▶️ Checkout timelapse of us setting up tent
The Morning
I woke up early and walked a bit away from the camp to take photos. Sunrise over Codviani Lake was something else—soft light touching the mountains, the lake still perfectly calm.
Tako joined me, and we stood there talking quietly about the place, about other hikes. We both agreed—this trail was on another level.
Soon Ann woke up too, and it was time for coffee.
Every hiker needs a stove—especially in places like this. A hot drink in the middle of cold mountain air feels like something much bigger than it is.
Then came the photo session.
Ann had even brought a white dress just for this. We took photos everywhere—by the lake, near the tents, in the mountains. There’s a specific spot where, if you take a photo from the right angle, it looks like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff.
We made sure to capture that one.
The Way Back
Eventually, it was time to pack up.
Tents folded, bags filled again, and we started the journey back.
And honestly—it was just as hard.
The same endless terrain, hills going up and down without a real break, the sun hitting harder now. Sweat, fatigue, slower steps. Some people ran out of water, and we shared what we had.
This trail doesn’t forgive you on the way back.
Personally, I always prefer circular routes—like in Borjomi National Park—where you return a different way. Going back the same path feels longer, heavier.
But we didn’t have a choice.
For Ann, it was even tougher. Her boots were slightly too big, and over a 30+ km hike, that becomes a serious problem. Every step adds up.
The Finish
After hours and hours of walking, we finally reached the starting point.
I took the “after” photo of Ann and Tako.
The difference said everything.
Seeing the cars felt like pure happiness. Not because the hike was over—but because we had actually made it.
Afterthought
Later, we joked that we had been cleansed of all our sins on that hike—that no one could go through something like that and come out the same 
But what stayed with us wasn’t just the difficulty.
It was the laughter.
The struggle.
The silence of the mountains.
That night in the tent, sharing wine and stories.
Even the hardest trail becomes manageable when you’re with people you truly trust.
