Seven Lakes Day Trip from Samarkand: Private Border Crossing & Hiking

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(129 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

I’d heard about the Seven Lakes since arriving in Samarkand, but honestly didn’t expect the drive to feel so different once we crossed into Tajikistan. The Uzbek driver dropped us at the border — you have to walk it yourself, which felt weirdly exciting (and a bit awkward, hauling my backpack past the guards). The Tajik staff were waiting on the other side, all smiles. Our guide, Zafar, greeted us with this calm energy that made me relax right away. Penjikent was our first stop — dusty streets, kids waving at our van. I remember thinking how the air smelled sharper here.

The lakes themselves… I’m not sure photos ever get it right. Marghuzor was first — Zafar said its name means “eyelashes,” and I tried to see it but mostly just noticed how blue the water looked against those snowy peaks. At Soya Lake, everything went quiet except for this echo of water moving between rocks. It stays in shadow most of the day — he explained that’s why it’s called Soya (“shadow” in Tajik). We hopped out at each lake; sometimes there’d be a shepherd passing by or women washing clothes at the shore. At Gushor (which means “watchful”), I got a little obsessed with how cold the water felt on my hands. Honestly, I kept thinking about how people actually live up here year-round.

Nofin is long and narrow — Zafar joked it’s like an umbilical cord between lakes (I guess that’s what its name means). After Pardut village came Khurdak, “the baby” lake. By then, clouds were rolling in and everything looked softer somehow. Marguzor is supposed to be the biggest; we stopped for tea there with some locals who barely spoke Russian but still managed to laugh at my attempts at Tajik numbers. If you want to keep going (we did), there’s an optional hike up to Hazorchashma — 2.5km uphill but worth every step for that view down over all seven lakes stacked in their valley. My legs burned but I still think about that silence up top.

On our way back toward Uzbekistan, we stopped at Sarazm — Zafar called it “the old city.” The ruins are mostly low stones and windblown grass now but knowing people lived here 5,500 years ago made me pause longer than I expected. There’s something grounding about seeing that before heading back across the border, tired and hungry and full of new things to Google when you get WiFi again.