PANKISI VALLEY, Georgia — For years, Pankisi Valley was a name whispered in fear. Tied to headlines of extremism and military crackdowns, the narrow valley tucked in Georgia’s north-eastern mountains was seen as off-limits too close to conflict, too remote to understand.
Now, the story has changed.
On a recent Friday in the village of Duisi, a group of women stand barefoot in a circle, swaying and chanting in Arabic and Chechen. Their voices rise steadily. It’s dhikr a Sufi ceremony of remembrance. This is the only mosque in the Caucasus where women perform it publicly. In the corner, travellers from Europe, the Middle East and the US sit quietly, watching, moved.
The ceremony is just one part of how locals are reclaiming Pankisi’s story through food, music, hospitality and the mountains that rise like guardians over the valley.
“When I started university in Tbilisi, people still thought Pankisi was dangerous,” said Fatima, a guide from Duisi. “I always tell them: come and see. It’s peaceful. It’s home.”
A Wounded Reputation
The Kists, a Muslim ethnic group with Chechen roots, have lived in Pankisi for over 200 years. But the valley’s reputation was shaped more by what happened around it than within. In the early 2000s, Chechen refugees fleeing war crossed the border into Georgia. Among them were fighters, and soon rumours swirled about terrorists hiding out, even claims that Osama bin Laden had passed through. The Georgian government, under foreign pressure, launched military operations.
“The only time the state remembered us,” Georgian academics Maia Barkaia and Barbare Janelidze wrote in a 2018 study, “was during anti-terror raids.”
The valley quietened again. But another wave of darkness came in the 2010s, as ISIS propaganda reached across borders. Roughly 50 to 200 young people left Pankisi for Syria. Among them was Tarkhan Batirashvili better known as Abu Omar al-Shishani, a high-ranking ISIS commander. Once again, global headlines returned.
Yet few journalists stayed long enough to see the full picture.
“There’s very little crime here,” said one local guesthouse owner. “Mostly, the police drink tea all day.”
The Turning Point
The real change came slowly, and from within. In 2013, Nazy Kurashvili opened the first guesthouse in Pankisi. “People needed to see something different,” she said. She began inviting diplomats, lobbying the tourism ministry, and in 2018 launched a tourism development group. It worked. Word spread. Tour companies added Pankisi to their itineraries. The Lonely Planet guidebook began listing it.
Today, there are nine guesthouses, mostly in Duisi and neighbouring Jokolo. Visitors hike forest trails, take cooking lessons, and listen to the Kists’ hypnotic music. Some just sit in courtyards drinking tea and chatting with hosts.
“What makes Pankisi special isn’t just the scenery,” said Emily Lush, founder of Wander-Lush, a travel platform focused on the Caucasus. “It’s the people. The culture. The calm. You feel welcome the moment you arrive.”
A Valley at the Edge of the World
The landscape doesn’t disappoint. At less than 3km wide, the valley is a ribbon of villages threaded along a river. Wooden houses with carved balconies face meadows where cows and sheep graze. On clear days, the snow-capped Caucasus peaks glint to the north, while the vineyards of Kakheti lie just to the south.
In summer, families picnic in the hills and ride horses through trails lined with wildflowers. From a crumbling old watchtower above Jokolo, the view is endless green, still, and full of stories.
At the heart of the culture is the food. Guests gather around long tables to eat zhizhig galnash tender lamb with doughy noodles or khinkali dumplings stuffed with nettles. Tea is brewed from rosehip or mountain herbs. There’s no rush. No need to check phones. Just conversations and mountains and laughter.
“Some people come just for one night,” said Khatuna Margoshvili, who now runs her own guesthouse after years working abroad. “Then they stay longer. They fall in love with this place.”
What’s Next?
Tourism here is still modest a few hundred visitors a year but it’s growing. And more importantly, it’s being shaped by the community. Women run most of the guesthouses. Young people lead the walking tours. The stories told are their own.
“Tourism has allowed us to speak for ourselves,” said Kurashvili. “We’ve waited a long time for that.”
And in doing so, Pankisi is proving that even the most misunderstood places can find their voice through song, through food, through the simple act of opening a door and saying welcome.
