If you’re new here, you might also want to read Life in Ashgabat: No AC, No Wi-Fi, No Regrets — a more literal look at our early days here, before the routines settled.
Hiking day in Chuli (Gökdere) — our “almost camping” adventure.
Life in Ashgabat has been a steady exercise in adjusting expectations—about comfort, distance, and what counts as enough. Most days unfold inside routines, walls, and careful systems; this hike pulled us far outside all of that and made the shape of this place feel clearer, not farther away.
Leaving the Routines Behind
We finally made it out to Chuli this weekend, and none of us were prepared for how quickly the landscape stripped away distraction. The hike to camp was long and rocky—just demanding enough to pull you fully into your body. Every turn opened into another view that made us stop, recalibrate, and keep going.
Fire, Food, and a Pause
By the time we reached a clearing, everyone was dusty, sweaty, and grinning. One of the teachers got a fire going and cooked shashlik, sausages, and tea over it. The smell alone justified every step.
Beyond Language and Place
A few of us ventured farther out, and what we found felt familiar in an unexpected way—ridges to climb, distances that swallowed sound, a remoteness that echoed the camping trips we grew up with back home. Out there, there was no language barrier, no cultural difference to navigate. It all boiled down to experiencing the world alongside people you enjoy.
Falling Behind (On Purpose)
As Amirra and I watched the front of our group pull ahead and eventually disappear around the bend, we were left alone in the Chuli mountains. We were free to explore without keeping up—and we did. We stopped to look at desert flowers and read inscriptions etched into the rock by people who passed through long before us. It felt timeless. We even added our own, using scavenged charcoal.
There’s something about a long hike — when you can feel every muscle and every breath — that strips life down to what matters. No noise. No Wi-Fi. Just us, the mountains, and the sound of gravel underfoot.
Learning the Terrain
Everyone took slightly different routes on the hike—one advantage of desert terrain, where it’s hard to truly get lost. Duston and Drake climbed the surrounding slopes until they were reduced to pinpricks against the rock. Later, the kids regrouped to tackle a stretch of loose scree. They’d make progress, feel victorious, and then watch it slide away beneath them—like climbing a descending escalator. After trial, error, and a few strategies borrowed from Lucky, Drake finally reached a stopping point near the top. His look of victory was one of my favorites from the whole trip. These are the moments that shape our family life here, often more than the big milestones.
Coming Back Together
When we finally made it back to camp, the shashlik and tea were done and we were starving. We ate, rehydrated, rested. Stories surfaced. A few people slept—mostly the kids.
Close, but Not Staying
This was the closest we’ve come to real camping since moving here—except for Duston, who already has one full Turkmen mountain trip under his belt. The rest of us were ready to throw down a few blankets and call it home. The kids were crushed when they realized we weren’t staying. Honestly, so was I.
We left with loose plans of finding tents and coming back for a full weekend. I keep thinking about what the stars must look like out there—no city lights, no competition. Camping has a way of letting you live inside a place instead of just passing through it.
What We Carried Back
We left feeling closer—not just as coworkers or travel companions, but as people who had shared the same ground for a while. It was a much-needed reset, one we didn’t realize we were craving until it happened. Pictures and videos don’t come close to capturing it. But they’ll have to do. 🔥🥾🌲
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