Another family hike we did last year began right off the main road through Varzob, at a bend in the valley locals still call Chaika—named after the old Soviet-era pioneer camp that once sat just off the highway around the 23-kilometer mark. Our friend and guide, Denis, immediately lit up at the name. He had spent time here as a child, attending the camp back when it was still alive with buses, banners, and summer noise.
Today, the place feels like a ghost of that era. A few crumbling structures still sit near the river, half-hidden by brush and time, but the camp has long since been abandoned. These days, Chaika serves a quieter purpose: a low-key starting point for a couple of hiking routes that slip up into the side valleys above Varzob.
When we arrived, winter still had a firm grip on the mountains. Snow blanketed the ground, and the sky had that heavy, undecided look—bright enough to move, dark enough to threaten more. We parked along the left side of the road, crossed the highway at the 23 km marker, and started up a dirt road that wastes no time pulling away from the valley floor. Within minutes, the traffic noise faded and the climb began to feel more intentional.
After about a quarter mile, the road levels out briefly, offering a look back down toward the old camp on the right. From here, the route splits: a narrow single-track climbs high into the valley, while the dirt road continues lower, tracing the river upstream. Given the snow underfoot and the sky’s uncertain mood, we opted for the lower route—saving the higher trail for a drier, clearer day.
The road continues for another mile or so, passing a scattering of houses tucked against the slope on the left. As we approached the last of them, a pair of dogs trotted out to investigate—friendly, tails wagging, clearly pleased to have new company. They fell in beside us and stayed there, unofficial trail companions for the rest of the walk.
Just beyond the final house, the road ends and the trail narrows. Not far in—maybe a hundred meters—we came across something that stopped us in our tracks: a massive wild boar jawbone lying beside the path, one huge tusk still intact. We know boar are common in these valleys, but this was the first unmistakable sign I’d seen of one. It was a quiet reminder that this landscape still belongs to more than just hikers.
From there, the trail follows the river deeper into the valley, gradually beginning to gain elevation. Clouds drifted lazily around the surrounding peaks, occasionally parting to reveal the opposite side of the Varzob Valley through gaps in the trees. As we reached our turnaround point for the day, the views opened just enough to feel earned.
Out came the small tablecloth—because someone is always prepared with a tablecloth in this country—and soon tea, coffee, and cookies were being passed around. We lingered longer than planned, soaking in the stillness and watching clouds slide across the mountains.
We only made it about two and a half miles in before turning back, but Chaika has been quietly tugging at me ever since. It feels like the kind of valley that reveals itself slowly, rewarding return visits as the seasons change. I’m hoping to come back later this spring and see how far we can push upstream. For anyone looking for a quiet, low-key exploration away from the main Varzob routes, this one feels like a very good place to start.
Wise Clan in Stanland 
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