Yangykala Canyon – And the Road Not Taken to Awaza

by Tom · Published 25/01/2026 · Updated 08/05/2026

Part of: Turkmenistan – Where Crazy Is Normal

You can’t visit Awaza.

Not because it’s far away. Not because it’s difficult to reach.
But because you’re simply not allowed.

So instead of marble resorts and empty conference halls, we took the night train west—towards something far less controlled, and far more real.

Yangykala Canyon.

We did it the classic way: a night train to Turkmenbasy.
Yes, remember that name – it’s named after the country’s first president, who made sure of that.

This was no luxury train, but everything worked just fine. It even gave me flashbacks to my younger Interrail days in Europe. The only real rule: bring your own food.

*Close enough to see. Not close enough to visit.*

I had been looking forward—perhaps with a bit of curiosity—and a hint of scepticism—to seeing Awaza.
A seaside resort built, naturally, in white marble, intended to attract tourists from all over the world.

It didn’t quite work out.

Today, it’s mostly used for national conferences, and tourists are not actually allowed to visit. Which is a shame. It was once marketed as having the cleanest coastline along the Caspian Sea, that slightly confusing body of water sitting between Europe and Asia.

I did manage a small detour on my own. From the harbour, I could just make out the futuristic hotels on the horizon. Close enough to see them, but not to reach them.

So instead of Awaza, we settled for a late breakfast in Turkmenbasy and headed inland, into the desert.

Roads in Turkmenistan deserve a story of their own.

Outside the capital, they are… not great. On paper, you have wide highways—two lanes in each direction. In reality, only parts of the road are actually paved, and those parts are filled with holes. Trucks move in slow zigzags, trying to avoid the worst of it.

At times, it feels more like choreography than driving.

*A café, a bus, and a reminder that our transport could have been worse.*

We stopped at a small roadside café to stretch our legs and have some tea. A local bus was parked outside, and let’s just say—we were quite happy not to be travelling in it.

Our guide explained how expensive it is to build roads in such a large country.
I couldn’t help myself:

“Maybe if you used a little less marble, you could afford a few more roads.”

There is no shortage of desert in Turkmenistan.

After a few hours, we left the road altogether and continued on sand tracks instead. The pace picked up, surprisingly.

And then, suddenly—Yangykala Canyon.

The landscape opened up in a way that almost doesn’t seem real. Layers of white, green, pink, and deep red carved into dramatic formations. Once, this entire area was underwater, and you can still sense it in the shapes and textures.

It reminded me a little of a mix between Rainbow Mountain in Peru and Cappadocia in Turkey—but quieter, emptier, and far less visited.

The long journey out here was worth every minute.

It’s one of those places that simply leaves you without words.