Tskaltubo: radon baths among Soviet ruins

A spa town that outlived its purpose

Tskaltubo isn’t the easy, polished version of a Georgian bath visit. It’s a small town in Imereti, about 10 km from Kutaisi, built almost entirely around one thing: warm radon-carbonate springs that the Soviet Union turned into one of its largest spa resorts, with dozens of purpose-built sanatoriums each assigned to different trade unions and ministries. Most of those buildings now stand empty, roofs open to the sky in places, mosaic floors still visible under fallen plaster — and a handful of bathhouses among them still work exactly as they did decades ago. The mix of a functioning spa and a half-abandoned Soviet resort town, side by side, is what draws people here rather than the bath alone.

What Tskaltubo looked like at its peak

Under Soviet rule, Tskaltubo was treated as a national health resort, and its scale reflected that: a purpose-built rail line brought visitors directly from across the union, and the town’s central park was ringed with sanatorium buildings, each built and run by a different ministry or trade union, sending workers here for state-subsidised treatment courses lasting weeks rather than days. Some accounts describe Stalin himself visiting regularly enough that a dedicated bathhouse, No. 6, is still associated with him today.

At its height the town received a very large number of visitors annually, a figure repeated often enough in guidebooks that it’s worth treating as an order of magnitude rather than a precise count — the exact number varies between sources. What isn’t in question is the scale of the ambition: an entire town built around the idea that this specific water was worth a dedicated resort infrastructure, not just a bathhouse.

Why the resort collapsed

Funding for the sanatorium network came directly from Soviet state and union budgets, and when the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991, that funding simply stopped. Buildings that had been maintained by central planning had no replacement source of upkeep, and Georgia’s own economic collapse through the 1990s meant there was little capacity to invest in reviving a resort town built for a different political and economic system. The empty sanatoriums you see today are, in that sense, not ancient ruins but a fairly precise snapshot of the early 1990s — abandoned mid-use rather than decommissioned, which is part of why so much original furniture, signage and decoration is still visible inside.

The water itself

The springs at Tskaltubo are radon-carbonate, warmer and mineralogically different from the sulphur water in Tbilisi’s Abanotubani, and were used therapeutically for joint and circulatory conditions throughout the Soviet period. A handful of bathhouses still operate on this water today, at prices well below what you’d pay in Tbilisi — expect a private session for well under the Tbilisi range once you’re booked directly through a local operator. Tskaltubo: Sulfur Bath Experience with Pick Up covers a straightforward bath session with pickup included, useful if you’re coming from Kutaisi and don’t want to arrange transport separately.

The bathing ritual itself is broadly similar to what you’d find in Tbilisi — a private or shared pool, the option of a kisa scrub — but the water’s character is different: radon-carbonate springs tend to feel lighter and less mineral-heavy on the skin than sulphur water, without the same strong smell that marks Abanotubani. Sessions are typically shorter here than the leisurely hour common in Tbilisi, often built around a more clinical, treatment-style structure that echoes the town’s Soviet medical history even in its present, much smaller-scale form.

Bathhouse No. 6, and what’s still standing

Among the working bathhouses, No. 6 is the most commonly mentioned, cited as the building Stalin himself used on his visits to Tskaltubo, and it remains a distinctive stop even for visitors who choose to bathe somewhere plainer. Several of the town’s other bathhouse buildings are themselves now derelict, standing alongside the sanatoriums rather than separate from them, which is part of what makes Tskaltubo feel different from any other spa town in the country — the bathing infrastructure and the ruin are, physically, the same place.

Beyond No. 6, most of the other bathhouses in town operate at a smaller, more local scale — plainer buildings without the same historical association, serving mainly Georgian visitors who come specifically for the water’s reputed therapeutic effects on joints and circulation rather than for the setting. If a quieter, more low-key bath experience appeals more than a landmark building, asking locally about a smaller house is a reasonable alternative to defaulting to No. 6 purely because it’s the one every guide mentions.

The abandoned sanatoriums

This is the part of Tskaltubo most visitors actually come for. Dozens of grand, colonnaded sanatorium buildings sit scattered through the town’s central park, many with intact Soviet-era mosaics, sweeping staircases and abandoned furniture still inside. Some are structurally unsafe and best seen from outside; others are regularly walked through as part of guided tours. It’s worth knowing before you go that several of these buildings have also served as informal housing for internally displaced people from the Abkhazia conflict since the 1990s, some of whom still live there — a fact that changes how a few of these buildings should be approached, and is worth more attention than most quick photo guides give it.

A guided visit that explains which buildings are open, which are occupied and which are simply unsafe is worth the modest extra cost over exploring alone: Kutaisi: Soviet Abandoned Sanatorium in Tskaltubo Day Tour covers this ground with a local guide, and a similar walking-tour option run by other local guides covers the same ground for visitors who’d rather book directly on arrival. The fuller picture of the sanatoriums themselves, building by building, is in The abandoned sanatoriums of Tskaltubo, and the wider category of Soviet-era sites across the country, including several within reach of Tskaltubo, is covered at Things to do: Soviet history.

Photographing the sanatoriums responsibly

It’s easy to treat these buildings purely as photogenic decay, and plenty of photography tours are built explicitly around that framing. Worth holding in mind alongside the photographs: some of these buildings are still lived in, by people who ended up there after displacement decades ago and have had few alternatives since, and treating an inhabited building as a backdrop without acknowledging that is worth a moment’s thought before you point a camera at it.

A local guide will generally know which buildings are genuinely empty and open to photograph and which have residents, which is one of the more practical reasons to book a guided visit here rather than wandering in alone. Early morning light works best in the buildings with intact skylights or missing roof sections, and a tripod is useful in the darker interior halls if photography, rather than the bath itself, is your main reason for the trip.

Getting there

Tskaltubo sits close enough to Kutaisi that most transport options treat the two as one stop — roughly 3.5 hours from Tbilisi by car or marshrutka, matching the standard Kutaisi journey time. Day Tour from Tbilisi to Kutaisi and Tskaltubo combines both destinations in a single long day from the capital, which works if Tskaltubo is one stop among several rather than the sole reason for the trip. If it is the main draw, basing yourself in Kutaisi for a night removes the pressure of a same-day return to Tbilisi.

If you’re driving yourself rather than taking an organised tour, Tskaltubo’s town centre is small enough to navigate without much planning, and parking near the central park is generally straightforward outside of any particular event. Marshrutkas run between Kutaisi and Tskaltubo frequently enough that a car isn’t strictly necessary if you’re already staying in Kutaisi — it’s a short, cheap hop rather than a journey that needs advance booking.

Best time to visit

Tskaltubo works in any season, since both the baths and the sanatorium buildings are largely indoor or covered experiences, but summer brings noticeably more visitors, particularly on weekends, both to the park and to the more famous abandoned buildings. Winter and early spring are quieter, and the bare trees in the central park in these seasons make some of the sanatorium facades easier to photograph without foliage in the way. Rain is worth planning around specifically if you intend to walk through any of the abandoned interiors, since several have significant roof damage and standing water indoors isn’t unusual after heavy rain — sturdy, waterproof shoes are worth packing regardless of season.

Making it a longer wellness trip

Some operators now package Tskaltubo into multi-day wellness routes that also take in Borjomi, Sairme or the canyons near Kutaisi, aimed at visitors who want more than a single afternoon of hot water.

Georgia: All Inclusive 4 Day Wellness Tour is one such package, worth considering if you’re building a trip specifically around Georgia’s spa towns rather than fitting Tskaltubo around a Kutaisi day trip. The wider comparison of where else in the country hot mineral water surfaces — Tbilisi, Borjomi, Sairme, Vani — is in Thermal springs across Georgia, and Borjomi water at the source covers the other major spa town most visitors pair with a Kutaisi-area trip. For an overnight stay built around the restoration projects now under way in some of the town’s former sanatoriums, see Spa hotels worth the money in Georgia.

Practicalities and what to skip

Tskaltubo’s town centre beyond the park and sanatoriums is modest and doesn’t need much time on its own; most of a visit is the park, the ruins and, if you choose, a bath. Bring sturdy shoes rather than sandals if you plan to walk through any of the buildings, and don’t wander into anything that’s visibly occupied.

If your main interest in Georgia is Soviet-era history rather than spa culture specifically, Day trips from Kutaisi sets Tskaltubo alongside Prometheus Cave and the other canyons and caves nearby that fill out a fuller day from the same base, and The abandoned sanatoriums of Tskaltubo goes deeper into the history of the site than this guide, which is focused on the still-functioning bathing side.

Food options directly in Tskaltubo are limited compared with Kutaisi, so most visitors either eat before leaving Kutaisi or plan a meal back there after returning — treat Tskaltubo itself as a half-day activity rather than somewhere to also handle lunch and dinner unless you’ve specifically checked what’s open. Cash is the safer default for any small local businesses in town, since card acceptance is far less reliable here than in central Kutaisi or Tbilisi.

What to skip if you’re short on time

If you only have an hour or two, prioritise the park and a look at two or three of the more accessible sanatorium exteriors over trying to see everything — the buildings are spread out enough that covering the whole site properly takes half a day, and rushing between them on foot in the heat isn’t particularly pleasant. Skip the bath itself if time is genuinely tight; it’s a worthwhile add-on but not essential to understanding what makes Tskaltubo distinctive, which is really the sanatoriums rather than the water.

Tskaltubo versus Tbilisi, if you’re choosing between the two

If you can only fit one Georgian bathing town into your trip and are weighing Tskaltubo against Tbilisi, the honest distinction is this: Tbilisi’s Abanotubani is the polished, easy, visitor-ready version, with private rooms, English-speaking staff and a district built specifically to be seen. Tskaltubo is rougher round the edges, cheaper for the bath itself, and comes attached to a much stranger and heavier piece of Soviet history that most visitors find more memorable precisely because it isn’t packaged for tourism the way Abanotubani now is.

Neither is more “authentic” than the other in any simple sense — Tbilisi’s baths are also centuries-old and locally used daily — but they answer different questions about what you want from a Georgian spa visit, and it’s worth being honest with yourself about whether you’re drawn to Tskaltubo for the water or for the ruins before you commit half a day to the trip out from Kutaisi or Tbilisi.

Safety, footing and what to actually wear

Beyond the general advice to avoid occupied buildings, the practical hazards inside the empty sanatoriums are mundane but real: broken glass, exposed rebar, rotten floorboards in upper storeys, and staircases that look solid but aren’t always. Closed shoes with a solid sole are worth treating as non-negotiable rather than optional, and a torch or phone light helps in interior rooms that have lost their windows and get genuinely dark even during the day.

Groups should stick together rather than splitting up to explore separately, partly for safety and partly because a guide, where you have one, can only flag hazards to people within earshot. None of this should put you off visiting — thousands of visitors walk through these buildings every year without incident — but treating the site with the same caution you’d apply to any abandoned industrial building elsewhere in the world is the sensible default, rather than assuming a tourist destination has been made safe simply because tours run here regularly.

Frequently asked questions about Tskaltubo’s spa

The practical and ethical questions that come up most before a Tskaltubo visit are answered below.

Is it safe to bathe in radon water?

The radon-carbonate springs at Tskaltubo were used therapeutically for decades under Soviet medical supervision and the concentrations involved in a bath are not considered a health risk for an occasional soak; they are a different matter from inhaled radon gas. If you have specific health concerns, ask the bathhouse staff or check with a doctor before booking.

Why are so many buildings in Tskaltubo abandoned?

Tskaltubo was built as a mass spa resort under the Soviet Union, with dozens of sanatoriums serving tens of thousands of visitors a year at its peak. Funding collapsed after 1991, and several of the abandoned buildings later housed internally displaced people from the Abkhazia conflict, some of whom still live there — worth keeping in mind before treating the site purely as a photogenic ruin.

Can I go inside the abandoned sanatoriums?

Some buildings are informally accessible and are a regular stop on guided tours; others are structurally unsafe, occupied, or both. Go with a guide or a small group rather than alone, watch your footing on unstable floors and staircases, and don’t enter any building that’s visibly inhabited without an invitation.

How do I get to Tskaltubo from Tbilisi?

It’s roughly the same drive as Kutaisi, about 3.5 hours by car or marshrutka, since Tskaltubo sits only about 10 km from Kutaisi itself. Most visitors combine it with a Kutaisi stop rather than making the round trip from Tbilisi in a single day.

Is Tskaltubo worth a day trip from Tbilisi, or should I stay overnight?

A day trip is workable if you’re already spending a night in Kutaisi, but doing it directly from Tbilisi and back means a long day mostly spent driving. If Tskaltubo is the main draw rather than an add-on, an overnight in Kutaisi makes the visit far less rushed.

What should I wear to explore the abandoned sanatoriums?

Closed, sturdy shoes rather than sandals — floors are uneven, sometimes covered in broken glass or debris, and staircases can be unstable. A layer you don’t mind getting dusty is sensible too.

Is Bathhouse No. 6 the one Stalin used?

Yes, it’s commonly cited as Stalin’s personal bathhouse during his visits to Tskaltubo, and it remains one of the town’s more distinctive functioning bath buildings, worth a look even if you bathe elsewhere.