A day before leaving Kashgar we received news that the government, in true Chinese fashion, had suspended the free travel of foreigners through to Pakistan and that now we weren’t even allowed to cycle up to Taxkurgan to catch the bus into Pakistan.
Fortunately the youth hostel arrange a car and we shared the costs with two other travellers stuck in the same situation. What turned up in the morning was little more than a guy delivering some plumbing equipment to a shop in the last city before the border. Strapping the bikes on top we prayed they wouldn’t get damaged. Arriving mid afternoon hoping to be able to jump on a bus that evening, we were told there was only one a day, and the next wasnt untill the following morning.
Bunking down for the night in the so-called Pakistan China friendship hotel, we enjoyed one last night in the land of the rising sun (of which Taxkurgan couldn’t have been further away from) and of course our last few beers before we entered the dry state of Pakistan.
The following morning brought a long wait at the heavily staffed customs post, with each member more paranoid than the next, “Wait here” “not here, here” i look at the line which ive over stepped by about 5cm, Opps!!. Then us and about 20 Pakistanis all of which seemed to be on some kind of buisness trip, were ushered onto a bus and driven over the 4600m Khunjarab pass and down to the Pakistan border town of Sost.
Sost was anything but its Chinese counter part, as two relaxed guys glued our visas into our passports, whilst Tim was allowed to go traipsing around town, trying to change our euros so we could pay the $90 fee. Making friends on the bus Tim, myself, Andreas and Mardi sat down in our cheap hotel restaurant to enjoy a nice cup of chai, before spending the evening eating chicken kauri with our Pakistani counter-parts.
Having decided in a split second to join us from Kashgar, Andreas now thought about buying a bike to cycle with Tim and I down the Karakoram highway and on into India, which to us sounded great. So before we started the 35km journey to Passu our next destination, we had a quick hunt around town in search of a set of wheels. Luck wasnt on our side unfortunately so we departed ways with him taking the bus as Tim and I rode off.
The whole way down to Passu the mountains were stunning , un-describable peaks with jagged spires making the whole place seem like a cathedral of mountains. We bumped into two other cyclists also. A swiss couple names Ralf and francies, who brought a couple of bikes in Kashgar to ride them down into India. Enjoying their company we stopped at the many children offering Apricots in exchange for a biscuit or two. At first we were careful about eating in public due to the Islamic month of Ramadan starting just days before we left China, but with the majority of the northern population practicing the Ismaili branch of Islam, it ment that most of them also chose not to fast during Ramadan. Asking one man if he was fasting upon offering him a date he said “you know, we are Ismaili people and we belive food is good for the body” something i couldn’t have agreed more with.
Staying at the Passu Inn we met up with some people we had bumped into in Kashgar, Dave and Georgie/Sophie due to the fact she was apparently board of her original name, plus the two swiss, Andreas and an English guy called Rif all of which we would travel with for the next few weeks on the way to Gilgit. The Inn had a delightful garden to which we ordered copious amounts of tea whilst lounging under fruit trees sipping on the sweet milky delight which is the taste of the subcontinents’ chai.
Our next stop was Karimabad, Hunza however due to the devastating floods which swept through Pakistan in 2010 and consequential landslides which followed, a new lake had been formed along part of the River engulfing roads and villages, which ment now we had to take a boat. The boats had been brought up from Karachi and now almost all transport had to be loaded and unloaded at either end due to their being no car or cargo ferry, lucky for us we only had our bike’s.
Apart from the defining engine noise of the two Chinese motor-engines, made in a country which wants the Lake to be drained so it can finish building the KKH and subsequently crate a trade route to the Arabian sea, the 2 hour ride was breathtaking. With the mountains now rising up out the water to their barren ice worlds in the sky, villagers hopped on and off of the boat to their villages, which now represented small islands along the lake
It was a dusty start back on the road as we walked over the giant Landslide which blocked the rivers flow down to the plains of the Punjab. Arriving in Karimabad we sort out another backpacker haven the Old Hunza inn. Slowly our group from Passu arrived throughout the day on different modes of transport and pretty much we were the only ones there. The days in Hunza were nice, as tim and i sat looking at the tourist menu of breakfast delights such as Omlete, corn flakes, porridge to which i couldn’t help but think back to the hungry days of eating stale bread on the Pamir.
We visited the Hunza fort, home of the local royal family untill the 1950′s a construction which lay in ruins only 20 years ago untill restorers took it apart piece by piece to reinforce the foundations before putting it back together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. we also went for a short walk around the houses of upper Hunza, taking time to gaze at Rakaposhi and her sister peaks which sat across the deep valley all 6500m and above. The other activity which we somehow got involved in was a football match between us the tourists vs Karimabad in a six a side match on the old polo ground.
Turning up to the ground we had actually just come for a kick about between ourselves, untill we stumbled across a fiercely contest derby match between the local town of Karimabad and Aliabad in the Hunza premier league. After the match was finished and Karimabad had celebrated, a man invited us to play. Looking at each other we eventually said yes. So it was us five plus one new local signing vs the best six from the region, i already didn’t fancy our chances, especially due to the fact the 200 or so eager fans which had watched the previous match were in no mood to see their boys go down.
The match turned out 7-1 to the home team, but we concluded that it would have been sincerely un-diplomatic to bring out all the silky skills of our cross continental team, and my goal was just consolation, so to give our one fan Georgie plus a few kids something to cheers about.
Leaving Karimabad again unable to find Andreas his bike, Tim and I cycled down towards Gilgit stopping halfway to break the journey in the small village of Chalt
Gilgit was by far the biggest town we had reached thus far in pakistan. It was also quickly becoming aparent that further south we went the more orthodox the religion of Islam became. Gilgit was totally starved of restaurants during the day, with the only thing available being somasa’s and pakoras which left us sitting in our guest house eating and drinking.
.
Eventually we found Andreas his bike, an old one a tourist had left and planned our route down the KKH towards Islamabad and Rawalpindi. Sadly the day we were suppose to leave Andreas took about of Delhi belly, so we decided to let him rest up and we would try again in a day or two. Rif, Tim and I headed out-of-town for a walk to see a small Buddhist carving from about the 7th centrey, long before the spread of Islam had taken over. We also had our first taste of trying to eat and drink on the road as we snuck into a shop to drink a coke, with a poster of Bin laden watching our every move.
Eventually we managed to leave. The three musketeers as Dave called us. Cycling through Gilgit just as the sun rose we tried to beat the midday heat. Andreas to his credit was keeping up with us, that was until he hit a pot hole. Three punctures in one sitting!!! I took it to a tyre guy who happened to be opposite and he patched them up in about 20mins, Andreas then started to feel worse for wear and said for us to go on and he would catch us up in a few days. It was a bit sad seeing how we had been talking about it for the last week that after only 4km he was heading back.
Leaving just the two of us again we tried to cope with worst road surface known to man, big rocks!!! I think i could have relaxed better being tied to a neumatic drill as we struggled to make any sort of distance. Again Ramadan was proving a problem as all the road side cafe which we had been praying on since our stove broke were now shut and every person who drove past us whilst we tried to hide our cartoon of juice, gave us the sign of drinking and eating before shouting “Ramadan”.
We spent five long days on the KKH, down to a town called Besham. During which time we managed to have more stones thrown at us by kids, than a local donkey and police escorts here there and everywhere, none of which seemed that organised. The day riding out of Besham, after about 20km and almost every group of kids we saw that morning, hailing stones in our direction we decided this really wasnt a pleasant experience and opted to take the bus down to Rawalpindi instead.
Hitting the plains of the Punjab after months of mountains we began sorting out our Indian visas. We wer e left with a week to wait untill we could collect them, so we called up a friend which we met on the bus from china. Faaruk kindly invited us to join him and his friends for some dinner and then to play at what seems like a Pakistani evening activity, Snooker. Of course Tim and I were a handicap for both sides, potting more white balls than was necessary.
Indian visas in hand, we made our way towards Lahore. At first we thought we would also take the bus, but after days of sitting around and the fact Ramadan was almost finished we thought we have to get some exercise. It was a sweat-fest, dripping from the moment we set off in the morning till the evening. Saved only by the numerous petrol stations which provided A/C which we could stand in to cool off. The reception along the Grand trunk road, which actually run’s all the way to Calcutta in west bengal India, couldn’t have been different to the KKH as everyone gave us the thumbs up and family’s would drive along side asking where we were from and how we liked Pakistan.
Arriving in Lahore in one last big day of 140km, followed by about 45mins of rickshaw dodging, taxi swerving, sub continent city driving we made our way to the famous Regal internet Inn, in time for Thursdays Sufi Night. The day time brought Kawali singers at the Data Shahib shrine where bands from all accross pakistan have been playing music for over 900years. It was then back to the rooftop of our hotel too watch and dance to Saif Mohammad Ali and his traditions punjabi band, before 20mins later we all jump in Rickshaws and headed across town to experience the main part of the Night the Saeen brothers .
Here is a video i put together from a Japanese man’s footage. ENJOY!!!!
Three hours of Dhol drumming, Sufi dancing, head shaking, people spinning were followed by about one hour of tea drinking, joint smoking, chillam smoking with most amazing white bearded guy ive ever seen, who had apparently been stoned for over forty years and constantly had two joints in his hand. before all ten of us (tourists) past out we insisted to the baba’s and Sufis, we had to leave other wise i think some may not have made it home.
Recovering after a royal pakistani night out!!! we spent the last few days walking around the city, checking out the Badshahi Mosque and Fort, before we head to India on Sunday and then Celebrate One year on the road on the 15th sept!!!!!!!
