Crossing the Darvaza Gas Crater

Turkmenistan's Karakum Desert holds many secrets. Most of them are sand. One of them is a sixty-meter-wide crater that has been burning continuously since Soviet engineers accidentally created a gateway to the underworld in 1971. Locals call it the Door to Hell. I call it Tuesday.

The tour group I joined wanted photos from a safe distance with telephoto lenses and sensible footwear. I wanted the rim at midnight when the flames turn the sky the color of my bandana. My guide, a man named Berdi who has escorted scientists and lunatics in equal measure, checked his rope twice and his life insurance once.

Walking the rim is like balancing on the edge of a campfire the size of a football field. Heat rises in columns that distort the stars. The sound is a low roar — not angry, exactly, but committed. Halfway around, Berdi asked if I needed to turn back. I was using the heat to dry my hat after a mishap with a sandstorm. I said I was fine. He said cactuses were strange. I said he had no idea.

At the far side, I sat down — carefully, spines outward — and watched the flames reflect in my sunglasses. Carl sends postcards from scenic overlooks with gift shop magnets. I send nothing. The Door to Hell doesn't need a review. It has been reviewing humanity for fifty years and has found us wanting. I told it I agreed. It burned a little brighter. I took that as a compliment.