The Road to Khinalig

The journey to Khinalig began in the early morning, as the city of Baku slowly awoke from its slumber. I found myself in the company of Tural, a guide whose reputation preceded him. His warmth and humor were evident from the moment we met, and I felt an immediate sense of camaraderie. As we left the city behind, the landscape transformed, the urban sprawl giving way to the rugged beauty of the Azerbaijani countryside.

The drive itself was a revelation. The roads wound their way through the mountains, each turn revealing vistas more breathtaking than the last. It was a journey that demanded attention, a reminder of the vastness of the world and the smallness of our place within it. We stopped along the way to sample traditional Azeri ‘fast food’—meat and cheese-filled breads that were both simple and sublime. It was a meal that grounded me, a taste of the land that I was about to explore.

A Hike Through Time

Khinalig, perched at an altitude of 2,200 meters, is a village that seems untouched by time. Its isolation has preserved its antiquity, and as I began the hike, I felt as though I was stepping into a world that existed long before my own. The air was crisp and clean, the mountainsides alive with the colors of wildflowers. It was a scene that seemed almost too perfect, a painting brought to life.

The hike was not a test of endurance but a journey of discovery. The path wound gently around the mountain, offering views that were both humbling and inspiring. The thin air was a constant reminder of the altitude, but the pace was leisurely, allowing for moments of reflection and appreciation. Tural, ever the attentive guide, shared stories of the land and its people, his voice a comforting presence in the vast silence of the mountains.

A Taste of Tradition

The hike culminated in a village that felt like a hidden gem, a place where time moved at its own pace. Here, I was welcomed into the home of a local family, their hospitality as warm as the food they prepared. The meal was a celebration of Azeri tradition, each dish a testament to the rich culinary heritage of the region.

As the day drew to a close, we descended to a beer garden, a fitting end to a day of exploration and introspection. The beer was cold, the company warm, and as I sat with Tural and the other guides, I felt a sense of contentment that had eluded me for some time. This journey, this exploration of ancient villages and high altitudes, had been more than a physical journey—it had been a journey of the soul.