In the heart of Turkmenistan’s vast and sun-scorched Karakum Desert, where rolling sand dunes stretch endlessly under a relentless sun, a fiery pit glows with an intensity that seems almost supernatural. Locals call it the Door to Hell, an apt name for a crater whose glowing, roaring flames have burned day and night for decades, untouched by time, politics, or the shifting sands around it. This phenomenon, known officially as the Darvaza Gas Crater, is a rare and mesmerizing intersection of human ambition, geological reality, and accident.

The story of the Darvaza Gas Crater is, in many ways, a mystery — a tale with conflicting details, missing records, and conflicting recollections. Its origins are often traced back to 1971, during the Soviet Union’s aggressive exploration of Central Asia’s vast oil and gas reserves. Engineers, driven by the promise of tapping into rich natural resources, began drilling in the desert near the small village of Darvaza. What happened next, however, was not part of their meticulous plans. According to the most widely accepted version of events, the team struck an underground cavern filled with natural gas. The cavern could not support the drilling rig’s weight and collapsed, swallowing equipment and creating a wide, gaping hole in the desert floor. Fearing that the escaping gas could be hazardous to nearby villages and workers, the engineers made a critical decision: they ignited the gas, expecting the flames to consume the supply within a few days. That was over half a century ago. The gas, fed by an enormous underground reserve, continues to burn to this day.

Exact details about the crater’s creation remain murky. Soviet records from that time are either classified, lost, or incomplete, leaving much of the incident shrouded in folklore. Some Turkmen geologists have speculated that the collapse occurred earlier, perhaps in the 1960s, and that the flames were not lit until much later, possibly even in the 1980s. Others suggest the ignition was not a planned decision but an accident resulting from a spark during drilling operations. Regardless of its precise origin, the Darvaza Gas Crater today measures approximately 70 meters (about 230 feet) in diameter and plunges to a depth of around 30 meters (98 feet). At night, the fiery pit can be seen from miles away, casting an eerie, orange glow across the otherwise dark expanse of desert. Visitors who make the journey — often requiring a rugged off-road drive across unmarked trails — are struck first by the sheer scale of the crater, then by the overwhelming sensory experience: the roaring sound of the burning gas, the searing heat radiating from the pit, and the hypnotic dance of countless small fires flickering across the uneven ground. The smell of sulfur and methane occasionally wafts through the air, a reminder that the forces at play beneath the surface are both natural and volatile.

For decades, the Door to Hell remained a relatively obscure phenomenon, known mainly to local residents and a handful of intrepid Soviet scientists and adventurers. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and Turkmenistan’s independence, the country became one of the world’s most isolated nations, limiting international awareness of the crater. It was only in the early 21st century that global curiosity about the Darvaza Gas Crater began to grow. Adventure travelers, geologists, and journalists who braved the bureaucratic hurdles of Turkmenistan’s strict visa policies returned with stories and photographs that seemed almost too fantastical to be real: a roaring pit of fire burning in the middle of nowhere.

The government, recognizing the crater’s growing appeal, made efforts to promote it as a symbol of the country’s unique natural heritage. In 2013, the surrounding region was designated a natural reserve. Basic infrastructure, including yurt camps and limited facilities, was established near the site, making it slightly more accessible to tourists — though reaching it remains a rugged adventure. At the site itself, visitors can stand at the crater’s edge, feeling the blast of heat even from dozens of meters away. Some camps offer guided night visits, during which the surreal contrast between the dark desert sky, the glittering stars above, and the infernal glow below creates an unforgettable sensory experience.

The Darvaza Gas Crater has also attracted scientific interest, particularly among researchers studying extreme environments. In 2013, Canadian explorer George Kourounis descended into the pit — a feat never before attempted. Supported by National Geographic and wearing a specially designed aluminized suit, Kourounis rappelled into the crater to collect soil samples from the burning floor. The mission was part of the Extreme Microbiome Project, which sought to identify microorganisms capable of surviving in harsh, high-temperature environments. The samples Kourounis retrieved provided valuable insights into extremophile organisms, shedding light on possible forms of life in similarly hostile environments beyond Earth.

Despite the crater’s scientific and touristic appeal, concerns have been mounting about its environmental impact. Methane is a potent greenhouse gas, and the continuous burning of such a large deposit raises questions about the site’s contribution to climate change. In 2010, Turkmenistan’s President Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedow called for steps to limit the crater’s environmental and economic effects. In January 2022, he announced a renewed effort to extinguish the flames, citing the need to conserve resources and reduce harmful emissions. Yet as of today, no viable plan to extinguish the crater has been successfully implemented, and the Door to Hell continues to burn.

Fire has always held a powerful place in human imagination — as a source of life, destruction, and mystery. The Darvaza Gas Crater, with its ceaseless flames and remote location, evokes primal images of hell, the underworld, and cosmic energy. For some visitors, standing at the edge of the Door to Hell is a deeply symbolic experience, confronting the forces of nature that lie beyond human control. The crater has been compared to ancient tales of fire gods and infernos, connecting modern adventure travelers with mythological traditions that span cultures and continents. Others see in the Darvaza Gas Crater a more sobering metaphor: the unintended consequences of human exploitation of natural resources. What was meant to be a routine search for fossil fuels inadvertently unleashed a phenomenon that decades of technology and policy have been unable to reverse. It is a burning reminder that nature often has the last word.

Despite efforts to control it, the Darvaza Gas Crater remains today what it has been for half a century: a luminous wound in the desert, mesmerizing, dangerous, and beautiful. At night, when the desert cools and the vast canopy of stars unfurls above, the crater’s glow seems almost cosmic — as if Earth itself were breathing fire into the night sky. Campers in nearby yurts often recount hearing the crater’s roar echo across the sand as they drift to sleep, a constant reminder of the fiery heart beating within the Earth’s crust just beyond their tents.

Visiting the Door to Hell is not an easy journey. The Karakum Desert remains a harsh, unforgiving environment, with searing heat during the day, chilling cold at night, and vast stretches of empty, featureless landscape. Yet for those who make the pilgrimage, the experience is unforgettable: a glimpse into the raw power of our planet, a confrontation with forces that exist entirely beyond human will.

The future of the Darvaza Gas Crater is uncertain. Plans to extinguish it remain on paper, and even if a method were found, there would undoubtedly be debate over whether it should be left to burn as a natural wonder or sealed for environmental reasons. For now, the flames continue — a burning testament to the accidents, ambitions, and awe-inspiring phenomena that have shaped human interaction with the natural world. In the middle of one of the world’s harshest deserts, a ring of fire reminds us that, sometimes, the most enduring landmarks are those we never meant to create.