Enchanting Griz and The Gurgur Waterfall.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall, Azerbaijan.

December 2024.

*Recently I collaborated with Bag Baku, one of Azerbaijan’s leading tour companies. The project was to experience some of Azerbaijan’s greatest natural, historical and cultural treasures before writing up honest, detailed accounts of my experiences. Thanks to Bag Baku co-founder Sabina Gasimova for the opportunity* 

“So you guys just travel full time, is that right?” Sabina asked, somewhat matter-of-factly. We were back on the road again with Bag Baku, this time heading north from the capital on the E119 highway.

During our day tour of the mud volcanoes, Gobustan petroglyphs, Fire Temple and Burning Mountain, Rajab had given us an overview of the different trips Bag Baku offer visitors to Azerbaijan. Immediately, one adventure sparked our interest. So much, in fact, that we knew we couldn’t leave the country without visiting the remote mountain village of Griz.

As fate would have it, this was also our chance to finally meet Bag Baku co-founder Sabina Gasimova in person. “Sabina does the hiking tours” Rajab had told us. “You won’t see me anywhere near those trips. God gave us the wisdom to invent the car, so why do I need to walk anywhere?” 

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

We explained to Sabina what we actually do, and that we are far from being perpetual travellers without a care in the world. Even if we know that’s how it might seem to many people when they come upon the blog.

Thoughtful, calm, softly-spoken and a good listener, we liked Sabina from the off. She was happy to chat with us of course, but didn’t feel the need to fill every moment of silence with relentless facts and anecdotes.

Thus the drive  progressed with a pleasing mix of carefree conversation and good old-fashioned window gazing. Until we reached a dusty rest stop just outside the small city of Siyazin.

The strip of cafes, restaurants and stores there is fascinatingly grim. Jumping out of the car, we sauntered past a row of ramshackle food stalls. An owner or two made a few half-hearted attempts to draw us in, but in truth their dishes looked wholly unappetising.

Siyazin.

Instead, we simply opted to grab some coffee. “I’ve tried just about every place here” Sabina smiled, leading us across the two lanes of the highway to the other side of the strip. “But I think this cafe is the best”. The establishment in question is a converted van called Coffee Boss. 

Clambering onboard, we exchanged pleasantries with the young barista and ordered a couple of flat whites before taking our seats at a large table that accommodated the three of us. The coffee turned out just fine.

Sipping from our drinks, we shared travel stories. Sabina, we learned, is an avid traveller who has (impressively as a solo female) undertaken cross-country jaunts in both Iran and India. She established Bag Baku in 2015 as a hiking tour company, but did not expect much success.

“Hiking wasn’t really a thing in Azerbaijan back then“, she explained. But her idea soon proved popular with expats and eventually Azerbaijanis began cottoning on to the idea of discovering some of the country’s most impressive nature via a group walking tour.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

As the three of us disembarked the van, Sabina drew our attention to a dramatic mountain in the distance. “This is Besh Barmag” she told us. “We call it the Five Finger Mountain, it kinda looks like a fist with rocky fingers pointing out of the top”.

Rising to 382 metres and looking suitably moody shrouded in morning fog, the mountain enjoys a sacred status in Azerbaijani folklore. Indeed many visitors, including dervishes and spiritual seekers, come here to harness its mystical energy.

It is popular with women too, who scale it in order to pray for fertility. Moreover, there is even a myth suggesting that the mountain served as a resting place for Noah’s Ark during the Great Flood on its way to Mount Ararat in Turkey.

From the beauty and mysticism of Five Finger Mountain we returned to Grim Boulevard across the other side of the road where I picked up a bottle of water from the brilliantly named Hell Market.

Back on the highway a flurry of inconsequential villages and towns came and went amid long stretches of bare brown farmland. Eventually we reached the bustling city of Quba, situated on the north-eastern slopes of Shahdag Mountain.

Quba.

Known as “The apple capital of Azerbaijan”, the city is also a carpet weaving powerhouse and surely worth a few days exploring. Unfortunately, today’s schedule was a tight one, so we stopped only momentarily to change drivers for the next leg of the journey. Yes, it was Lada time again!

Our first driver had been a cheerful fella who chatted to Sabina on and off throughout the journey and even understood a little English, chuckling at a few of our shared jokes.

Fizuli though, our new chauffeur, was a serious and slightly intense man whose eyes bore into the road ahead as if he were preparing to battle with some manner of fearsome foe. Little did we know it yet, but we’d soon be in awe of his impressive off-road driving skills.

With Quba disappearing behind us we pushed further inland for around fifteen minutes before taking a toilet break at the tiny woodland resort village of Ay Nur (which translates as ‘moonlight’). Surrounded by river and woodland trails, the village offers a hotel, overnight cottage stays and a handful of barbecue restaurants.

In what was a surreal moment, we were greeted by a bunch of docile street dogs and a dude promoting a restaurant dressed as Father Christmas. We stared at Santa, Santa stared at us and one of the dogs came over to me for a sniff. That’s the whole story.

 Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

Beyond Ay Nur things rapidly became snowier and more mountainous; the names of the villages a new level of unpronounceable. Gimilgazma… Kusnatqazma… Qırızdəhnə. And then… quite suddenly… we had entered the absolutely spectacular Gudialchay River Canyon.

Naturally Sabina asked Fizuli to pull up so we could get out and take in the views. It was just breathtaking… a winter wonderland of a scene where we filled our lungs with the crisp air and listened to the rush of the Gudialchay River below.

In the distance, perched atop the knobbly peak of a towering cliff, what we initially thought was a statue of some sort turned out to be an eagle! We were just discussing what it might be when the great bird took off and glided out of view behind one side of the canyon.

From the canyon we’d been driving for just a few minutes when Sabina announced: “We’re going off-road now”.  Turning off the main road, we spluttered up a steep, gravelly lane that felt more like a hiking path than something fit for a car.

Fizuli drove steadily, guiding us ever upward as magical views unfolded around us. At last, we had reached the stunning foothills of Ag Dagh Mountain.

Touring the Remote Northeast of Azerbaijan with Bag Baku.

As we continued, the road became increasingly difficult to navigate. Sharp turns demanded precision, and sizeable ditches had to be expertly avoided, the Lada grumbling its way carefully from one side of the road to the other. And then came a wow moment as another turn revealed a fabulous view of the road we had taken to climb up to our present position.

Our ascent continued slow and steady, bringing us ever closer to Griz. Just before reaching the village, we paused on a wide grassy plateau to take in more mesmerising views.

Sladja and I marvelled at Fizuli’s driving on that last segment into Griz. With remarkable skill and patience he weaved between bumps and ruts and gently crunched over jagged rocks.

He shifted gears effortlessly, accelerating through patches of loose gravel before easing off just when needed to avoid us spinning out of control on a treacherous slope.

When we finally arrived in Griz it was with much relief to our nerves and the contents of our stomachs. Stepping out of the Lada, we couldn’t help but get swept up in the grips of excitement. After all, this is one of Azerbaijan’s most remote villages, home to just 350 people.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

Griz (also written as Qriz) lived up to its atmospheric reputation. Not a soul was in sight—only a group of local turkeys, clucking and gurgling as they wobbled past in a ragged line.

Outside a long stone cottage, a family of sheep grazed quietly. Spotting us, they nervously huddled together before quickly shuffling away as I cautiously approached to line up a photograph.

One of the most fascinating things about the village, Sabina explained, is that many of its residents are semi-nomadic. Every September, approximately half of its population migrate to the lowlands because of the intensity of the winter months.

This was kind of hard to imagine that day, as we stood enjoying the surrounding views on what was a calm and beautiful blue sky December afternoon.

Illustrating how hard life can be for the village’s residents, Sabina also explained how the only things they can produce for themselves are eggs, potatoes, beans, greens and onions, in addition to livestock meat. Oh, and most impressively, we also took a look at their charming honeybee farm.

Qriz Village, Azerbaijan.

For everything else, locals must make the long and arduous journey to Quba. Which, as I’m sure you can imagine, is not something they do often. Rather, they tend to stock up as much as possible, especially in the winter. And then what about medical emergencies? It hardly bears thinking about.

Sabina had arranged for us to meet a local woman in her home. So that’s where we headed, to a simple brick house located in a discreet corner of the village well away from other homes.

As we approached, Sladja became a touch unsettled by the sight of a large, grizzled dog sniffing around the main gate. But there was no need for concern—the poor thing grew nervous at the sight of us and quickly scurried away, retreating to a quiet spot near the chicken coop at the back of the house.

Inside, Sabina introduced us to our host, a middle-aged woman called Mehriban. The name, which has Persian roots, means kind in Azerbaijani. With a shy smile and flushed cheeks, she greeted us and promptly set about making tea.

“You can sit here” Sabina translated, directing us to the long living room table where we were encouraged to dive into an overflowing fruit bowl of pears, oranges, quinces and pomegranates.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

After the long drive Mehriban’s tea proved positively revitalising, a deep amber coloured brew sparkling with herbs and spices. In Azerbaijan tea is deeply ingrained in the culture, symbolising hospitality, warmth and social connection.

It is traditional to take a few spoonfuls of jam with one’s tea. Mehriban offered cherry, though across Azerbaijan hosts might also serve quince or fig jam. According to Sabina, one typically lets a spoonful dissolve in the mouth while drinking the tea.

As we drank, Sabina explained that our host was one of the few who chose to endure Griz’s harsh winters. Furthermore, we learned that she has three daughters, one studying at university, while her younger girls’ artwork adorned the cosy back wall of the living room near Mehriban’s bed.

At the opposite end of the living room, a TV had been set to a state broadcaster’s daytime talk show. There was also a stove, a traditional water boiler (samovar) and a wall-hung rifle and bullet belt. There was no mention of Mehriban’s husband and we didn’t ask.

An Azerbaijani Mountain Village home.

Suitably refreshed, it was time for the main event of the day: the 3 kilometre mountain hike to Gurgur Waterfall, a natural gem of the region. Even more so, Sabina assured us, at this time of the year when the entire waterfall becomes perfectly frozen due to plummeting temperatures. So off we set from Mehriban’s house, taking a path which led us out of the village.

Throughout Griz, and in various spots across the outskirts, we were struck by the number of gravestones. “There are several hundred” revealed Sabina, “a few of them date back to the 18th century“.

We had only been on the trail for a few minutes when, mightily confused, I swore that I could have heard the distant sound of thumping Azerbaijani disco music. What the?!?

And then we found the source, the three of us laughing together like school kids. Our driver, whose services would not be required until the drive back to Quba, had driven out to a secluded spot to chill out with tunes and views. Although in my book he had parked the car the wrong way round.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

The hike to the waterfall was stupendous; perhaps the most exquisite walk we have done together during our years travelling the world.

We really could not have wished for a finer December afternoon. As a result, I found it nearly impossible not to stop every few minutes to take shot after shot after shot of our surrounds. Particularly the majestic Greater Caucasus mountain range.

Noticing how enraptured Sladja and I were with the landscapes, Sabina admitted that it was mountain hikes like these that had stolen her heart too. “I don’t do the city tours anymore, or even the Gobustan stuff” she smiled. “I have Rajab and others who can do that. This is where I belong; it never gets boring”.

At long last we were closing in on the cave that houses Gurgur Waterfall. This was the trickiest part of the hike, requiring us to navigate a network of jagged rocks, followed by a giant precarious sheet of ice.

Almost There.

Happily we made it safely inside. The spectacle that awaited us was quite literally like something out of a fairytale. Perched at an altitude of approximately 2,190 meters above sea level, in the spring, summer and autumn months the waterfall typically enjoys a pristine flow, cascading from a height of six metres.

But that afternoon the entire thing was frozen, creating a mesmerising scene that had us wowing as we delved deeper inside. Thick icicles draped over the cave’s rocky walls, creating glistening, crystalline curtains.

It was such a magical scene we couldn’t tear ourselves away. We took photo after photo, despite the biting cold, in addition to the below video which hopefully captures just a shred of the cave’s ethereal beauty.

When we got back to Mehriban’s house a giant home-cooked feast had been prepared for the three of us. Having built up quite the appetite, we devoured it all with great enthusiasm. I particularly liked the lamb stew.

Elsewhere there was homemade white cheese, traditional tendir Azerbaijani bread, fried potatoes, crispy golden rice, pickles and a separate vegetarian stew for Sladja. By the end we were stuffed and already looking forward to the sleep that would surely claim us in the back of the car on the way home.

Enchanting Griz & The Gurgur Waterfall.

The smell of our dinner must have been the talk of the village. Even a local cat had come to wait outside the front door, clearly hoping that Mehriban would throw her a few scraps.

The sun was dropping fast by the time we pulled out of Griz. In what was a very sweet gesture, Mehriban came to the door to wave us off.

Slowly but surely our driver and his little Lada began the descent out of the village. Down we went on that hellishly precarious pass. Onto and across the winding mountain ledge road and through the little villages. Past the Gudialchay River Canyon and onto Quba for the change of car and driver. And then back to Baku where we could shower and collapse into bed.

Like this? Check out more of my adventures across Azerbaijan.

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