No friends but the
mountains
The Zagros Mountain Trail across Iraqi Kurdistan is more than just a great new hike. For the Kurdish people, it offers a chance for them to celebrate their resilience while forging a better future
Words & Photographs Richard Collett
Nader takes a short break from his unrelenting pace to admire the sunset on the trek between Akre and Shush
It was early May, and it was scorching hot in Iraqi Kurdistan’s Zagros Mountains. I paused in the shade of a Persian oak to wipe away the sweat and gazed at the forested steppe as it gave way to the green yet rocky valley. My stoic guide, Nader Tahir, forged ahead, his one walking pole setting a furious rhythm as the mountain peaks rose around us.
Nader didn’t seem to feel the heat. He didn’t even carry a water bottle; he just had a packet of cigarettes tucked into the top pocket of his dark-brown shirt.
“Germe!” I said, when finally catching up to Nader, who had paused for a moment. ‘It’s hot’ was the first Kurdish phrase I’d learnt. He nodded patiently, then set off again without a word.
No wonder I struggled to keep up. Nader had been in the Peshmerga, the Kurdish militia forces, for most of his adult life. He’d fought for these mountains, holding the frontline against the Islamic State. Now, he’d traded his AK-47 for a walking pole, guiding hikers along the new Zagros Mountain Trail.
Launched in 2023, Iraqi Kurdistan’s first long-distance hiking trail stretches for 215km through the Zagros Mountains, a vast swathe of snow-capped peaks extending across Türkiye, Iran and Iraq. The route has been pieced together by a team of local and international hikers, outdoor enthusiasts, NGOs and journalists (including British writer Leon McCarron and photographer Emily Garthwaite). It is both new and ancient at the same time.
This ambitious hiking trail follows pilgrimage routes and shepherds’ paths that have been trodden for millennia. It also offers something remarkable. In a region so often seen through the lens of war, it could shape a future defined by adventure tourism rather than conflict.
The Zagros Mountains, which stretch for some 1,600km from north-eastern Iraq into Iran and Türkiye, became a haven for Kurds seeking to escape their brutal treatment under Saddam Hussein’s Anfal campaign in the late 1980s
The seventh-century city of Akre, whose name is said to derive from the Kurdish word for fire (agir), owing to its historical links to the Zoroastrianism religion
The mountains remember
Two hours’ drive north of Erbil is Akre, officially the end of the Zagros Mountain Trail’s first stage. There are 13 stages in total, but we weren’t walking them in order, or even completing the entire route. As this was my first time in Iraqi Kurdistan, I combined two sections of the new trail with a tour of some of the region’s highlights.
I’d started in Erbil, the regional capital, where the 6,000-year-old hilltop citadel is said to be one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited settlements.
“The citadel is where it all begins,” I was told by Mohammed Alqaderi, founder of Gerrok Tourism, who showed me around the ancient city where his family have lived for seven generations. “We’re stepping on layers of history. This hilltop is not natural. Each civilisation, be it the Sumerians or Ottomans, has built atop the last.”
As we strolled the Qaysari Bazaar, where merchants have traded in the shadow of the citadel since the 13th century AD, Alqaderi described Erbil as a “Spiderweb city”. Embodying Iraqi Kurdistan’s swift development, its layers of luxury hotels and gated housing complexes now form ever-expanding concentric rings around the ancient centre.
“It’s a beautiful thing, the Zagros Mountain Trail. Now I can share my homeland with others”
From Erbil, Alqaderi drove me north to visit the Yazidi temples of Lalish and a 1,400-year-old clifftop Assyrian monastery overlooking the Nineveh Plains in Alqosh, before I met up with my hiking guide, Arazu Hassan Mohammed, two days after arriving.
“My heart beats faster every time I see this view,” said Arazu as she, Nader and I looked down on Akre. Below us, a warren of medieval streets swept down the slope; above, a stone citadel guarded the valley. “This is the most Kurdish of cities,” she exclaimed.
Arazu is Iraqi Kurdistan’s first female hiking guide and the founder of adventure travel company Kurdistan Outdoor Tourism. She told me how Akre’s slopes glowed throughout the night during Nowruz (the Kurdish New Year, celebrated in March), when locals held flaming torches to the heavens to remember their Zoroastrian ancestors.
Arazu started taking friends and colleagues on weekend hikes back in 2013. She has since founded not just a tour company but an ever-expanding community of hiking clubs all over Kurdistan. She also wanted me to see Akre in the daylight, so we’d breakfasted with a heartstopping panorama before tackling the first stage in reverse, hiking from Akre to the mountain village of Shush – where the trail officially starts, or ends – some 16.5km west.
Nader, who hails from Shush, led us downhill, through Akre’s twisting streets, and along a dusty four-by-four track in a shaded forest where pine cones crunched underfoot. We’d lingered in Akre a little too long, and the heat had intensified as the sun climbed high above the mountains.
Somewhere between Akre and Shush, we stopped beside a babbling brook. Nader was a man of few words, but his trimmed hair and freshly pressed olive-green trousers betrayed his military discipline. He effortlessly started a small fire, then Arazu teased his story from him, translating into English for me while the chai boiled.
Nader had joined the Peshmerga in the 1990s. In 2014, when Islamic State forces captured Mosul (just 100km from here), he defended a Christian village in the Nineveh Plains. By 2017, the Islamic State’s power had crumbled in the region, so a year ago, he began working as a hiking guide on the Shush-to-Akre stage of the Zagros Mountain Trail.
“The mountains are my home,” he said, pouring a cup of chai. “I love the peace. Without mountains, life is impossible. It’s a beautiful thing, the Zagros Mountain Trail. Now I can share my homeland with others.”
The main square of Erbil lies at the foot of its citadel and in the shadow of Qaysari Bazaar, a sprawling covered souk packed with stalls
Evidence of human settlement at the citadel of Erbil has been found that dates back 6,000 years (Alamy)
The dark times
An Iraqi hiking trail might seem far-fetched to those who remember the 2003 invasion of Iraq and the years of sectarian violence that preceded and followed the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Then again, I was constantly reminded during my week-long trip that this isn’t Iraq; this is Kurdistan.
In the Kurdish region of Iraq, the worst of the many conflicts was the Anfal (‘The Spoils of War’), as Hussein’s soldiers named the atrocity. In the 1980s, the regime waged a campaign of destruction against the minority Kurds, dropping chemical weapons on civilians and burning thousands of villages to the ground.
As many as 182,000 Iraqi Kurds were killed; many more fled through the mountains on trails like these. The Peshmerga fought back, and since 2003’s US-led invasion of Iraq, the Kurdish region has operated autonomously – with its own flag, government and armed forces – defending its borders against the Islamic State.
“We Kurds have a saying,” said Arazu as we walked through the lonely villages of breeze-block buildings: “No friends but the mountains.” Perhaps it should come as no surprise, then, that Iraqi Kurdistan’s first major tourist initiative is a mountain hiking trail.
A steep pass took us down into Gundik, where a herd of sheep crowded the dusty main road. It was the largest village that we’d encountered since departing Akre a few hours earlier, and Kurdish hospitality soon waylaid us. Gundik’s bearded headman – wearing baggy, traditional Kurdish sharwal (trousers) – brought us ice-cold glasses of water, and a local shopkeeper even later refused payment for our ice creams.
Just as we’d reached the far side of the village, Nader’s friend ushered us into his home, where we sipped on chai and gorged on delicious plates of dolma (vine leaves stuffed with rice and herbs).
Dusk was falling too soon. With 5km left to walk, we tore ourselves away from Gundik. As the sun began setting, the howling of wolves and barking of dogs echoed across the darkened mountains.
“Imagine,” said Arazu, her voice sad for the first time that day. “It’s dark. You’re fleeing Saddam’s soldiers. This is how the Kurds fled during the Anfal: through the same mountains, on the same paths. Just a different time.”
Visiting villages on the Zagros Mountain Trail from Akre to Shush affords the chance for both visitors and guides to learn more about local Kurdish customs that were thought lost under the persecution of the Kurds by Saddam Hussein
Erbil’s UNESCO-listed citadel towers above the city and the northern Mesopotamian plain
The lost ways
I never saw Shush in the light. It is home to the ruins of once prosperous Jewish and Christian communities, and Nader described it as “the most beautiful village in all Kurdistan”. I did, however, learn my second Kurdish phrase that evening.
“Bukho bukho (eat, eat),” said our dinner hosts – a local family – as they brought out plate after plate of chicken, rice, bread, salads and walnuts. As we ate and ate, Arazu explained her vision for a sustainable, community-based tourism industry in Kurdistan, making the point that the Zagros Mountain Trail could also help reclaim a Kurdish heritage that had been almost lost through conflict.
“My grandmother was a herbalist,” she said wistfully. “She knew many remedies and herbal treatments that we’ve now forgotten. The genocide wasn’t just about the loss of people, but also the loss of skills, traditions and culture. That’s why I love hiking out to the villages to find old crafts, herbs, dishes and traditions. It is an opportunity to see what we can bring back.”
We left Nader in Shush and hitched a ride back to Arazu’s car in Akre. She drove me further east, along winding mountain roads illuminated by headlights. It was midnight when we arrived at our homestay in Safti, where my next guide, Anwar Salih, gave us an enthusiastic welcome, despite the late hour.
The following morning, he guided us along another stage of the trail, from Safti to Alka.
“People have commuted on these routes for thousands of years,” said Arazu as we navigated ancient stone steps into a verdant valley below Safti. “It’s not something we’ve created; it’s always been there. We’re simply connecting these ancient routes for hikers to walk safely.”
Anwar, who seemed better equipped than Nader – with a hiking pack, water bottles and a rain jacket – explained how Safti has always been a crossroads. These mountain paths stretch to Mosul in northern Iraq, from where caravans once traversed desert roads into Mesopotamia.
To the north, paths reach into what is now Türkiye, inching across Anatolia and to the gates of Europe. The Arab armies brought Islam into the mountains along the same trails that we now trod, and long before this, ancient Sumerians carved the first rough tracks.
Anwar knew the way to what he said was a ruined Sumerian village. This was possibly thousands of years old, and it was hidden deep in the forest. Given the route itself isn’t yet waymarked and safe trails through the mountains change with the seasons, local guides such as Anwar – who know handy or interesting detours – are indispensable for anyone hiking the Zagros Mountain Trail.
The ‘official’ route would have taken us 17km to the next mountain village, Alka, but Anwar’s historical side quest soon led us on a detour away from the trail, as steep stone steps took us out of the first valley.
A black snake crashed through the underbrush – a lucky sign, I was told – and Anwar pointed to a rocky ledge where he’d once sheltered from wolves. Much of the wildlife in the Zagros Mountains is endangered: there are deer, brown bears and, rarest of all, the elusive Persian leopard. Community-based non-profit organisations such as Leopards Beyond Borders are hoping to bring these creatures back from the brink of extinction.
This stage of the trail was lusher and wilder than the route between Shush and Akre.
“I love this section,” Arazu said as we looked across the next valley, where pockets of temperate rainforest clung to the hillsides. It was far from the desert-like landscapes you’d expect to find in Iraq. “It’s so green,” Arazu continued. “The mountains everywhere once looked like this. But Saddam’s soldiers burnt the forests to find Kurdish fighters.”
They burnt villages too. Anwar pointed out ruins on the opposite side of the valley. Not Sumerian ruins, but a village lost to the Anfal.
“These trails have a painful history,” said Arazu. “They’re paths of suffering and survival. Children, the elderly and entire families travelled long distances in terrible conditions, with no proper clothing or food, to find safety.”
Anwar, who had seemed so easygoing on our travels, knew this suffering too.
“In the 1980s, my family left their homes as refugees,” he told me when we stopped for a packed lunch of rice and chicken by a crashing waterfall. “In 1992, we finally returned to our village here.”
Like Nader, Anwar had served most of his life in the Peshmerga. On weekends, he still mans the checkpoints that you encounter on Kurdish highways, but hiking is his real passion. In 2014, he took mountaineering courses and qualified as a hiking guide before joining the team that established the Zagros Mountain Trail.
The route has already made a difference in the region.
“Rural communities now host eco-tourists and hikers. Locals are also training to be guides,” said Anwar. “In the two years since the trail opened, we’ve seen a rise in visitor numbers. It’s opened up opportunities for eco-tourism and introduced the region’s culture and landscape to travellers.”
The trail has also helped Anwar, a keen history enthusiast, rediscover forgotten local stories and places, including Isumara, the ruined village that he believes has Sumerian origins.
Passing a crashing waterfall deep in the forest, we finally made it to the village’s sparse, overgrown ruins. As I took a moment to take them in, I realised we’d not seen another soul since leaving Safti in the morning.
We later emerged from the forest and back onto the Zagros Mountain Trail. Anwar’s wife picked us up on the banks of the Cigli Suyu River, the heartland of the Barzani Tribe, famous Kurdish resistance fighters. We never made it to Alka, where this stage of the route ends, but that hardly mattered. This trail isn’t concerned with the destination so much as the stories found en route.
My all-too-short stint along the Zagros Mountain Trail ended back in Safti. From here, I road-tripped with Arazu to Rwanduz (also on the trail), where the epic Hamilton Road snakes upwards to a mountaintop resort. From there, I’d see Halgurd (3,607m) rising in the distance. The trail ends at the mountain’s base camp, a few kilometres from the Iranian border.
To understand Kurdistan, you have to walk these paths, no matter how briefly. For Nader, Anwar and Arazu, these mountains – places of refuge, natural beauty and also trauma – are home. That’s why they protect them, preserve the history stamped onto their ancient pathways and want the outside world to know they not only exist but are safe to visit.
“This trail is more than a hike,” Arazu told me. “It’s a window into Kurdistan’s identity, with mountains and traditions at its core. These are no longer paths of conflict; they’re paths of peace. By walking them, we’re remembering the past while celebrating resilience and the progress that Kurdistan has made.”
Arazu [left] and Nader [right] on the track to Gundik Village
Highlights of Kurdistan
Erbil
Centred on a 6,000-year-old, UNESCO-listed citadel, Erbil is said to be one of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited settlements. Explore the citadel’s restored ruins, then drop by the Qaysari Bazaar, which is the perfect place to purchase traditional Kurdish clothing before heading up into the mountains.
Lalish
The spiritual home of the Yazidi religion offers a chance to break bread with pilgrims outside temples. You’ll also hear the dark side of their story, as extremist Islamic groups have long thought followers of Yazidism to be devil worshippers. The community is still recovering from the Islamic State’s attempted genocide.
Rwanduz
Home to spectacular gorges, arriving via the 185km Hamilton Road lets you glimpse a work of engineering genius and enjoy one of the most scenic road trips in the Middle East. Overnight at Korek Mountain Resort & Spa for a glimpse of Kurdistan’s burgeoning luxury tourism industry.
Sulaymaniyah
This is the region’s cultural capital. Uncover its Babylonian past at Slemeni Museum, explore Kurdish culture at the Kurds’ Heritage Museum, and glimpse into a darker past at Amna Suraka, a prison-turned-museum that tells the story of Saddam Hussein’s persecution of the Kurdish people.
A toppled Saddam Hussein statue on show at the Slemani Museum in Sulaymaniyah
The lush Rwanduz Gorge is a grand sight, as is the city perched on its steep walls. It is reached via Hamilton Road, which was named after civil engineer Archibald Hamilton, who, in 1928, was tasked with building a road from Erbil to the Iranian border. It was built in just four years, with the aim of both facilitating trade and exerting British influence over the Kurdish region. Now it ferries travellers to one of the most dramatic-looking cities in all of Iraqi Kurdistan
Need to know
Before you go
Be aware that the UK’s FCDO advises against all but essential travel to most of Iraqi Kurdistan. Consular support for UK nationals is also limited. The Peshmerga runs local security, so expect to see checkpoints and a military presence in the region.
Local travel operators such as Kurdistan Outdoor Tourism (kurdistanoutdoor.com) and Gerrok Tourism (gerrok.com) can organise multi-day itineraries, guides, stays and travel logistics.
Getting there & around
Flights from London to Erbil via Istanbul go from Gatwick and Heathrow with Turkish Airlines (turkishairlines.com), or from Stansted with Pegasus Airlines (flypgs.com). These take from eight hours.
The Zagros Mountain Trail is in 13 stages. Experienced hikers can complete it in two weeks, but it’s advisable to hire a guide.
Visa
Visa: UK citizens can arrange a 30-day e-visa (£57) for the Kurdistan Region (visit.gov.krd). Note: it does not allow travel to parts of Iraq outside this region.
Where to stay
A list of guides and stays for each trail stage can be found on the Zagros Mountain Trail site (zagrosmountaintrail.org).
The author’s trip was supported by Visit Kurdistan (visitkurdistan.krd).
The tastes and smells of Qaysari Bazaar
