A Week in the Break-Away Republic of the Caucasus Mountains-South Ossetia with the Sports Minister-Ex-Rebel Commander- as Our Guide

South Ossetia: A Breakaway Republic in a Geopolitical Tug-of-War

September 2019: South Ossetia is an independent country in name, but in reality, it is best described as a breakaway republic—a land that has declared independence from its former country but remains largely unrecognized by the international community.

What is a Breakaway Republic?

A breakaway republic forms when a region or ethnic group separates from its parent country, often due to:

• Cultural or ethnic differences that lead to feelings of underrepresentation.
• Ideological rifts, such as a push toward communism or democracy.
• Religious divides fueling separatist movements.

The process is rarely peaceful, often drawing regional and international powers into conflict, and most breakaway states lack formal UN recognition. These unrecognized regions exist worldwide, but they are particularly common in Eastern Europe, Asia, and Africa, often emerging after the collapse of an empire or colonial rule.

The Case of South Ossetia

During the Soviet era, Georgia and South Ossetia were part of the USSR, but when the Soviet Union collapsed, Georgia became an independent country, incorporating South Ossetia within its borders. However, tensions between ethnic Georgians and Ossetians soon escalated, fueled by rising nationalism on both sides.

In 2008, South Ossetia declared independence, prompting Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili to send in Georgian troops to reclaim the region. This led to a brief but intense war, during which Russia intervened militarily, backing South Ossetia and dealing a major blow to Georgia, whose government was pro-Western and considering NATO membership.

As a result of the war, Georgia lost over 20% of its territory, with Russia and South Ossetian forces pushing back Georgian troops. Today, South Ossetia operates as an independent entity, but with significant Russian military and political influence:

• South Ossetians are eligible for Russian citizenship.
• Russian military bases remain in the region, officially for peacekeeping, but seen by Georgia as an occupation.

While South Ossetia maintains de facto independence, the Georgian government and much of the international community consider it a Russian-controlled territory, highlighting the ongoing geopolitical struggle between Russia and the West in the Caucasus region.

Zoomed in map view

Day 1: Crossing into One of the World’s Most Isolated Republics

For this journey into South Ossetia, I organized a small group of friends to join me. We met in Moscow, then flew south to Vladikavkaz, the capital of Russia’s North Ossetia, where Sergo had arranged for a driver to pick us up.

The driver spoke no English, so we relied entirely on Google Translate to communicate as we set off toward the Caucasus Mountains. The few-hour drive took us through rugged landscapes before reaching the Roki Tunnel, the only passage into South Ossetia from Russia.

Through the Roki Tunnel: A Gateway to South Ossetia

At nearly 7,000 feet above sea level, the Roki Tunnel is a Soviet-era marvel, stretching over two miles through the mountains. It took us almost 20 minutes to pass through the tunnel, a claustrophobic yet awe-inspiring experience. This tunnel is South Ossetia’s only lifeline to the outside world, but it’s also dangerous—prone to avalanches and rockslides. In winter, it becomes impassable, effectively sealing off South Ossetia for months at a time.

Border Crossings: The Russian Interrogation

Once on the other side, we had to pass through two border posts:

1. The Russian Border Checkpoint (the most difficult)
2. The South Ossetian Immigration Post (much smoother)

At the Russian checkpoint, things got tense. Immigration officials searched our vehicle thoroughly and then took us in one by one for individual interviews. I went first since I had organized the trip.

They led me into a small, sterile office, where a portrait of Putin hung above the desk. A Russian officer who spoke no English called a translator, and the interrogation began. Given the extreme rarity of American tourists in this militarized zone, they were incredibly curious about my reasons for visiting. They also inspected my passport closely, fascinated by my collection of exotic travel stamps.

The interview lasted about 30 minutes, and without Sergo’s official letter of invitation, I doubt we would have been allowed in. After me, each of my friends was interviewed individually, and they were asked the same set of questions—a tactic to ensure our stories were consistent.

Entering South Ossetia: A Smoother Process

By comparison, the South Ossetian border post was straightforward. Thanks to our invitation letter from Sergo, we were quickly processed and waved through.

Finally, we had made it—one of the most isolated and politically complex places in the world lay ahead.

Street scene Tskhinvali with bullet holed buildings from the war with Georgia

Arrival in Tskhinvali: A City Marked by War and Soviet Legacy

After clearing the South Ossetian border, we arrived in Tskhinvali, the capital of South Ossetia, within an hour. With a population of approximately 30,000 people, Tskhinvali bears all the hallmarks of an ex-Soviet town—austere architecture, rows of Communist-era apartment blocs, and remnants of the past war still visible. Many buildings still had bullet holes and shell damage, stark reminders of the 2008 war with Georgia.

Staying in a Soviet-Era Spa

We checked into our hotel, a former Soviet-era spa repurposed for visitors. Though it was only September, the weather was already freezing, with a biting cold that made it feel like winter was creeping in early.

Making Friends at the Local Bar

That evening, we ventured out to one of the few restaurants and bars open at night. The town was quiet, but inside, we found a group of college students working the bar, eager to practice their English and share stories about life in South Ossetia. It was a rare and genuine moment of connection in a place that sees very few foreign visitors, let alone Americans.

Finally Meeting Sergo

Later that night, Sergo—our host, fixer, and the Sports Minister of South Ossetia—finally managed to break free from his busy schedule to join us for a beer. Having been both a government official and a former military commander, he carried himself like someone who had seen it all. Over drinks, he shared stories about his country, the war, and his ambitions to bring tourism to South Ossetia—a bold dream in one of the world’s most isolated breakaway states.

Soviet bloc apartments with shelling holes from the war

Public bus

Old  Neighborhoods

Old  Neighborhoods

Richard Inside an Orthodox Church

Breakfast at our hotel with a bizarre stuffed full-sized man that I found in the lobby. My fun little joke was not appreciated by the babushka lady serving us our breakfast and I was promptly scolded.

A Somber Stop: The War Memorial of South Ossetia

Before leaving Tskhinvali, we made a stop at a war memorial, a solemn reminder of the violence and tragedy that had shaped South Ossetia’s history.

Sergo recounted the horrors of the 2008 war, explaining how many South Ossetian civilians tried to flee the fighting, only to be targeted by Georgian helicopters. Their vehicles were strafed with gunfire, leaving countless civilians dead on the roads.

The memorial itself was haunting—a cluster of bullet-riddled civilian vehicles, frozen in time, surrounded by a cross. It was a stark and unfiltered tribute to the war’s victims, a place where grief and remembrance stood heavy in the air.

As we stood there in silence, taking in the remnants of destruction, it was clear that for South Ossetians, the war was not just history—it was still very much a part of their present.

War Memorial

Journey Through the South: Landmines, Abandoned Villages, and Watchtowers of the Past

We traveled along South Ossetia’s southern region, skirting dangerously close to the militarized border with Georgia. At times, the road brought us within visual distance of Georgia, so close that Sergo casually warned us about landmine fields on the side of the road. The tension in this region was palpable, a stark reminder that while South Ossetia may have won its independence, it remains a fragile, heavily contested land.

Unlike the rugged, mountainous north, southern South Ossetia is fertile and green, dotted with olive trees, vineyards, and abandoned Georgian villages—silent remnants of the region’s turbulent history.

A Land Shaped by Invasions and War

South Ossetia’s history stretches back to biblical times, and it has endured countless invasions. Even the most feared conquerors in history—Genghis Khan and Tamerlane the Great—marched through this land, laying waste to everything in their path. The destruction was so immense that South Ossetia’s population before the Mongol invasions was larger than it is today—a staggering testament to the scale of past massacres.

To protect their villages, the people of South Ossetia devised a network of giant stone watchtowers, built on the outskirts of settlements to keep watch for approaching invaders. These towers once served as early warning systems, and though many have crumbled with time, their remains still stand scattered across the countryside—silent sentinels of a war-torn past.

The Ancient Village of Jagina

One of the best places to see these ancient watchtowers is the village of Jagina, a place that felt completely untouched by modern tourism. As we wandered through the humble village, passing braying donkeys, olive groves, and towering ancient oaks, I couldn’t help but feel like we had stepped into a forgotten world.

This part of South Ossetia was stunning, a landscape frozen in time, undiscovered and unspoiled by outside visitors. I wished we had more time to explore—just a few days here would have been worth the trip alone.

Jagina Watch Tower

Sergo in his military fatigues seated at the top of the tower

Old, abandoned graveyard we found outside the village

Into the Mountains: A Remote Village Stay

After exploring the villages of the lowlands, we ascended into the rugged mountains of South Ossetia, heading toward a small, isolated village where Sergo had arranged for us to stay with a friend.

The journey became increasingly rough as the paved roads disappeared, replaced by muddy, rutted tracks that required 4WD to navigate. With each turn, the scenery grew more breathtaking, the jagged Caucasus peaks towering over deep valleys.

As we climbed higher, Sergo extended an invitation for us to return someday to trek these mountains. He explained that a vast portion of South Ossetia remains completely roadless, accessible only by foot or horseback. With more time, a deep trek into the remote, untouched highlands would have been the ultimate adventure—a true highlight of the trip.

But for now, we pressed on toward our mountain homestay, where we’d experience the simple, traditional life of South Ossetia’s mountain people, far removed from the modern world.

Ossetian Mountains

There was no need to bring water. These fresh water springs were found all over usually with a tap and a small memorial to a soldier that fought and died in World War II.

Tsoan Village

Tsoan: A Village Frozen in Time

Like much of South Ossetia, the village of Tsoan felt like a place forgotten by time. The wooden houses, many of them rotting and on the verge of collapse, stood in eerie silence. It was hard to tell which homes were abandoned and which were still lived in, as the entire village seemed suspended in a state of quiet decay.

Despite the hardships, life here continued as it always had. Farmers used antiquated equipment, tending to their land as they had for generations. The surrounding valley, framed by rocky hills and dense forests, was bathed in the fiery hues of autumn, a striking contrast to the stark simplicity of the village.

Preparing for the Harsh Winter

When we arrived at a small cluster of wooden houses, our host and a few other men were outside, splitting logs and stacking them into a woodshed. In this remote, roadless part of the country, winters are long and brutal, and wood stoves are the only source of heat.

Unlike the modern world, where winter is just another season, here it is a battle for survival—one that requires months of preparation. Watching them work, I couldn’t help but admire the resilience of the people who choose to remain in these forgotten villages, living a life as close to the past as one could get in today’s world.

Fall colored hills around Tsoan Village

Tsoan Village

Old Soviet era farm equipment

Our homestay

Tsoan: A Village Lost in Time

Like much of South Ossetia, the village of Tsoan felt like a forgotten relic of the past. The wooden houses, many of them rotting and teetering on collapse, stood in silent testimony to a way of life that had barely changed in generations. It was difficult to tell which homes were still occupied—some had signs of life, while others seemed long abandoned, blending into the landscape as nature slowly reclaimed them.

The valley surrounding the village was breathtaking, framed by rocky hills covered in dense forests, their foliage ablaze in the rich hues of autumn. The golden leaves rustled in the crisp mountain air, a fleeting display of beauty before the harsh winter set in.

A Life of Preparation

When we arrived at a small cluster of wooden houses, our host and a few other men were already at work—splitting logs and stacking them neatly into a woodshed. Their movements were rhythmic, deliberate, and necessary; here, winter was not just a season, but a challenge to be met head-on.

With no modern heating, survival in Tsoan depended entirely on wood stoves and the stockpiles of firewood gathered before the first snowfall. There was no rush, no panic—just the steady, practiced labor of men who had done this every year of their lives.

Watching them prepare for the long, unforgiving months ahead, it was clear: this was a place where time had stood still, and where resilience was not a choice, but a way of life.

Our homestay’s wood stove

The kitchen

Pigs

Village man stocking up on firewood from the nearby forest

Big traditional dinner with vodka and local whiskey

A Feast in the Forgotten Village

That evening, we were treated to a huge meal of traditional South Ossetian food, all made from organic, locally grown vegetables and farm-raised meat. Everything was fresh, hearty, and unpretentious—a true reflection of the simple yet resilient way of life in Tsoan.

As the night went on, bottles of locally made red wine were uncorked, and soon, the whiskey and vodka shots started flowing. Some of us indulged more than others—and by morning, the price would be paid.

Sergo’s War Stories and a Drinking Challenge

Between rounds, Sergo—our host, fixer, and former military commander—began sharing war stories from his time on the frontlines against Georgia. His tales were gripping, filled with moments of fear, bravery, and loss. His life had been shaped by war, and listening to him, it was clear that South Ossetia’s fight for survival was far from just political—it was deeply personal.

At some point in the night, Jimmie, feeling bold, challenged Sergo to a shot contest. It was a spectacle—a battle of endurance fueled by vodka. Unsurprisingly, Sergo won effortlessly, and by the end, he was escorting Jimmie to his bed, ensuring he wouldn’t end up passed out by the fire.

Fighting the Cold with Firewood and Whiskey

The freezing mountain air seeped into the old wooden house, so we threw as much firewood as we could into the fireplace, hoping to keep the chill at bay. The night outside was silent and absolute, the kind of cold that reminded you just how isolated this place really was.

As we sat by the crackling fire, feeling the warmth of both the flames and the alcohol, it was easy to forget where we were—a place untouched by tourism, unknown to the world, yet full of history, resilience, and stories waiting to be told.

South Osettian Whiskey

Day 3: Into the Mountains and Unloading an AK-100

The next morning, we woke early to a full, hearty breakfast, prepared by our hosts. Sergo, unfazed by the whiskey shots from the previous night, was already energetic and ready for the day. Jimmie, on the other hand, was not. Still deep in sleep, he had no interest in joining our morning excursion into the mountains—a clear consequence of the previous night’s failed shot challenge.

Ascending Into the Wild

With Jimmie down for the count, the rest of us piled into Sergo’s rugged Jeep, bouncing along a steep, rutted dirt road that climbed higher into the Caucasus Mountains. The air grew thinner and colder, the landscapes wilder, with endless ridges and valleys stretching into the distance. Eventually, we reached a remote cave entrance high up on a ridge.

Leaving the Jeep behind, we hiked up to the cave and explored as far as we could, squeezing through narrow rock corridors and shining our headlamps into the dark abyss beyond. The cave felt untouched, a hidden piece of South Ossetia’s rugged and uncharted wilderness.

Unleashing Firepower: Shooting an AK-100

Outside the cave, Sergo had another surprise for us—his AK-100, a modern variant of the AK-47. Setting it up at the edge of a field, he gave us each a quick lesson on handling and shooting the rifle. Then, one by one, we took turns unloading full clips into a boulder in the distance.

The kickback was powerful, the intensity of the weapon exhilarating. The sound of gunfire echoed through the valley, reminding us that this was a land where every man was armed, ready to defend his homeland at a moment’s notice.

At one point, Richard unintentionally turned slightly toward us while firing, sending a wave of panic through the group. We all shouted at him to keep the barrel pointed forward, and for a split second, it was a stark reminder of how powerful and deadly these weapons really are.

Despite the brief scare, the experience was incredible—a wild, adrenaline-fueled moment deep in the Caucasus Mountains, where few outsiders had ever ventured.

Sergo in his familiar military fatigues on our hike up the ridge to the cave

Richard, Wes and I

Exploring the cave

Sergo giving me shooting lessons

Sergo giving me shooting lessons

Wes

Day 3 (Continued): A Sacred Climb and Unexpected Hospitality

After waking Jimmie, we bid farewell to our hosts and set off to explore more mountain scenery. Along the way, we stopped at a small sacred chapel, accessible via a steep, mile-long climb.

Halfway up, we encountered picnicking South Ossetians who warmly invited us for photos, embracing us with their characteristic hospitality. After a few laughs and snapshots, we continued our ascent, eager to reach the chapel and take in the breathtaking mountain views.

Jimmie and I posing with some South Osettians 

Lake Koze: A Hidden Gem in the Mountains

From the chapel, we navigated rough 4WD tracks and crossed rivers, pushing deeper into the wilderness until we reached Lake Koze—one of the most breathtaking lakes I had ever seen, nestled among towering pine groves.

The moment we arrived, I disappeared into the forest, eager to explore the untouched wilderness. Surrounded by the crisp mountain air and the serene beauty of the lake, I was in my element—completely in heaven.

Lake Koze

Lake Koze

Mountains by Lake Koze

Return to Tskhinvali

After our time at Lake Koze, we made the long drive back to Tskhinvali, retracing our path through rugged mountain roads and remote landscapes. As night fell, we checked back into the same Soviet-era hotel from our first night, settling in for our final evening in South Ossetia.

Day 4: Interrogation on the Way to the “City of the Dead”

On our final day in South Ossetia, Sergo promised to take us to a place called the “City of the Dead”—a destination I was sold on by name alone. To get there, we had to navigate treacherous roads for hours, heading deep into a high-security zone near the borders of Georgia and the Russian republic of Ingushetia.

This remote and volatile area is known for weapons smuggling and potential terrorist crossings, making it highly monitored by Russian forces.

Stopped by the Russian Military

At one point, a Russian military jeep pulled us over, and a group of Russian soldiers approached our vehicle. They examined our passports carefully, then began questioning Sergo in Russian.

Sergo translated their questions, and to ensure our answers remained consistent, I took the lead in responding on behalf of the group. The soldiers seemed highly curious about our presence, pressing for details about our occupations and reasons for visiting.

The whole experience felt like an interrogation, and even Sergo seemed slightly uneasy—these soldiers had the authority to detain us if they chose to.

An Unexpected Curiosity About America

Just when it seemed like things might take a more serious turn, the soldiers—perhaps out of boredom—shifted the conversation. They used the opportunity to ask about America, particularly about how Americans view Russia and South Ossetia.

I answered honestly, telling them that most Americans don’t even know South Ossetia exists and that Russia, especially Russian women, is well-liked in the U.S..

They smiled at that response, seemingly satisfied, and with that, they waved us on our way, allowing us to continue toward the mysterious “City of the Dead.”

Ermin Village

Ermin Village & The City of the Dead: A Hauntingly Beautiful Discovery

After hours of rough, nerve-wracking travel, we finally arrived at what would become my favorite part of South Ossetia—and honestly, a true travel highlight: Ermin Village and the City of the Dead.

Ermin Village: A Step Back in Time

Ermin Village was stunning, a place that felt untouched by modernity. Little stone houses sat nestled among golden autumn landscapes, their haystacks neatly piled beside them. Towering above the village were the ancient stone watchtowers, remnants of a time when locals had to constantly guard against invading armies. The entire setting felt like a lost world, a hidden gem that few outsiders had ever seen.

The City of the Dead: A Valley of Skulls

Despite its name, the City of the Dead wasn’t a city at all. Instead, it was a scattered collection of ancient stone watchtowers, their crumbling ruins spread throughout a vast mountain valley, blanketed in forests of fiery autumn leaves.

But what truly gave it its eerie name were the small stone crypts scattered throughout the valley. Each had a dark opening just big enough to crawl inside—and within them lay dozens of human skeletons and skulls, untouched and undisturbed for centuries.

It was a haunting, surreal sight, one that blurred the line between history and legend. Standing among the towers of the dead, surrounded by silent forests and ancient bones, I felt like I had stumbled into another time—a forgotten chapter of history frozen in the mountains of South Ossetia.

Ermin Village house with a watch tower adjacent

Old wooden house

Men sorting the hay in Ermin Village

Men sorting the hay in Ermin Village with old Russian vehicles

Men sorting the hay in Ermin Village

Mountains

City of the Dead Watch Tower

City of the Dead Watch Tower

City of the Dead Watch Tower

The Valley of the Dead: A Place of Mystery and Remnants of Warriors

A few miles beyond Ermin Village, the Valley of the Dead unfolded before us—a place shrouded in mystery and silence. Little is known about its origins, and though there are surely superstitions and local legends, we didn’t have time to ask the villagers. Instead, we explored the ruins in solitude, absorbing the eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere.

Ruins of a Warrior People

Scattered throughout the valley were ancient stone watchtowers and crumbling ruins, remnants of the ancient Ossetian people—a civilization that lived in a constant state of war. Their watchtowers were built to observe enemy movements, giving them a strategic advantage in an era when invasions were a way of life.

But what made this valley truly haunting were the open stone burial structures, where the dead were left exposed rather than buried. Crawling inside one, I saw dozens of skeletons and skulls, eerily intact, a silent testament to a long-lost people and their customs.

A Magical and Untouched Place

Despite its immense potential as a tourist destination, the Valley of the Dead remained completely untouched. There were no tour buses, no souvenir stalls, no crowds with selfie sticks—just the wind, the ruins, and an overwhelming sense of mystery.

It was a place that felt suspended in time, a hidden gem that few outsiders had ever laid eyes on. Standing among the watchtowers and scattered bones, I knew that this valley would forever rank among my favorite places in the world—a destination where history, nature, and legend collided in perfect isolation.

Skulls

Farewell to South Ossetia and Arrival in Vladikavkaz

Spending a night in Ermin Village and having more time to explore the Valley of the Dead would have been ideal, but our journey was coming to an end. With no choice but to head back to Russia, we began the long drive north toward Vladikavkaz, the capital of North Ossetia.

By the time we arrived in the early evening, the city was already buzzing with energy—a major soccer match had ignited a frenzy of excitement throughout the streets.

We said our goodbyes to Sergo, thanking him for his incredible hospitality and guidance, then checked into our hotel, ready to explore this new setting and immerse ourselves in the unexpected chaos of game night in Vladikavkaz.