Shadows over the Trails: Mystical Legends of the Almaty Mountains
The mountains surrounding Almaty captivate not only with their natural beauty and fresh alpine air but also with the legends that echo along their winding trails. Travelers speak of a ghostly woman in white, a towering old man with a chessboard, and a mysterious “Japanese Road” haunted by the spirits of the past. The vistas are breathtaking, yet around every turn, a chilling tale may be waiting.
Urban legends have become integral to the cultural fabric of the Almaty region, shaped by the imaginations of hikers and storytellers alike. But could there be a grain of truth behind these supernatural accounts?
The Almarasanian Maiden
Most Almaty residents are introduced to local folklore during childhood, particularly during overnight camps in the mountain foothills. Beneath the star-strewn sky and beside crackling campfires, counselors often begin the night’s stories with: “Have you heard the tale of the Almarasanian Maiden?”
The best-known legend describes a spectral woman dressed in white, appearing along treacherous mountain passes. But older residents tell a more detailed and tragic version.
According to this tale, a woman once abandoned by her husband in the Zailiyskiy Alatau mountains was driven to madness. In her grief, she killed her two sons, hanging them from birch trees before taking her own life on a third. Struck by lightning but not destroyed, the three birches remain: two standing strong, the third broken but alive. Climbers later erected two crosses beneath them in remembrance.
Since then, sightings of the woman in white have persisted. She is said to either warn travelers of danger or exact vengeance on those who betray loved ones.
Though the story may sound fantastical, real-life tragedies have kept the legend alive. In May 2025, a rockfall in the Alma-Arasan Gorge killed a young woman and led to the trail’s temporary closure for reconstruction.
In 2009, 11 people died in a horrific accident when a truck collided with a bus stop. While the official cause was listed as a heart attack suffered by the driver, witnesses reported that he remained conscious and tried to steer the vehicle moments before impact. His widow later stated that he had no history of heart problems.
The Japanese Road
After Japan’s defeat in Manchuria in 1945, many prisoners of war were sent to labor camps across the Soviet Union, including Kazakhstan. In Almaty, they constructed what is now known as the Japanese Road.
Built under harsh conditions, the road was originally part of a water supply system connecting Big Almaty Lake to the city.
Modern hikers report an eerie atmosphere. Some claim to see ghostly figures, presumed to be the spirits of those who died building the road. These apparitions are seen as ill omens, urging visitors to leave before nightfall.
The White Old Man
Among the most curious legends is that of a ghostly, two-meter-tall old man with a flowing beard, who carries a chessboard. He appears to hikers and shepherds, silently inviting them to play.
Refusing is said to bring bad luck or worse. But those who offer tea and engage in a few friendly games are said to be rewarded, never losing their way and enjoying peace among the mountains.
The origin of this tale lies in reality. The “White Old Man” was a real person: Dadon, a local topographer known for his encyclopedic knowledge, uncanny stamina, and his habit of always carrying a chess set. Over time, stories of his exploits blurred into myth.
Even during his lifetime, rumors of his ghost began circulating. If the spirit of Dadon still roams the mountains, legend holds that he brings only wisdom and good fortune.
The Abandoned Airfield
Beyond the peaks, in the plains of the Almaty region, lies another eerie site: the abandoned airstrip known as Samsy Airport. Once the subject of viral travel blogs, the location now draws urban explorers and film crews intrigued by its post-apocalyptic atmosphere.
Located in the Zhambyl district, the airfield is home to rusting crop-dusting planes and a cracked runway slowly being reclaimed by nature. While it’s easy to locate online, visiting may cost you, local residents posing as security personnel charge travelers up to 4,000 tenge per person for access.
The true reason for the site’s abandonment remains unclear. No official explanation was ever given for the airfield’s sudden closure, nor for the workers’ decision to leave behind expensive equipment.
Was it simply a case of economic decline, or did something more sinister drive them away?
