I crossed into Pakistan via the Wagha border which is where India and Pakistan have their traditional closing of the gates ceremony each night though unfortunately I was heading for Lahore so couldn't hang around till the evening just to watch some border guards put on a song and dance show. Exiting India was pleasant enough with the usual cup of tea with the staff but on the Pakistan side, I was asked where I would be staying that night. My usual 'oh you know, just wherever I find somewhere decent' apparently wasn't good enough for the Pakistan immigration staff and as I don't carry any guidebooks, couldn't really pick one out the hat either.
I had high hopes for the Pakistan traffic but as soon as I crossed the border, it was more of the same mayhem that I've become accustomed to in India only in different clothing. A hotel had been thankfully marked on my GPS so I aimed for that but although it turned out to be a travelers hangout, it had no parking. I was assured the bike would be safe enough outside so I went looking for an ATM to get some Pakistani Rupees. After trying about 8 banks, none of which seemed willing to give me any money, I was starting to get concerned when finally Citibank came up with the goods. My Nationwide card hadn't been working for a few days now but the RBS one worked ok- phew!
I had high hopes for the Pakistan traffic but as soon as I crossed the border, it was more of the same mayhem that I've become accustomed to in India only in different clothing. A hotel had been thankfully marked on my GPS so I aimed for that but although it turned out to be a travelers hangout, it had no parking. I was assured the bike would be safe enough outside so I went looking for an ATM to get some Pakistani Rupees. After trying about 8 banks, none of which seemed willing to give me any money, I was starting to get concerned when finally Citibank came up with the goods. My Nationwide card hadn't been working for a few days now but the RBS one worked ok- phew!
The man sitting next to me in the ice cream parlor that night was marginally more camp than Freddy Mercury and I was quite surprised when he announced 'we're not all terrorists in Pakistan, Mike". Hmm, well he didn't exactly look like the Taliban type I thought. I found a lot of people here want to welcome tourists here but quite often bring up their perceived idea of the west's image of Pakistan in conversation. As for the security aspect, I've done a fair bit of asking around and think I know the areas to avoid but time will tell... Also, you really don't see women here much at all, and if you do, most are covered right up. If you walk down a street, its likely all you will see are men, especially in places that serve food and serve tea. Back home, I never take sugar with tea or coffee but here, you only seem to get hot, sweet, milky tea and I was surprised to find its actually quite nice, and kind of reminds me of the tea I used to get at my granny's house when I was little though I know I'll need to ween myself of it when I get home for the sake of my teeth if nothing else.
I head next to Islamabad, the day not starting too well as its pouring with rain (my Goretex bike clothing is no longer remotely waterproof), most of the streets are now flooded to a quite inpressive depth and I'm told I can't take the motorway and have to take the local (ie slower and more dangerous) road instead. Motorcycles are not allowed on motorways here but when I asked why, the official just replied "I don't know'. Great. AnywayI get there relatively unscathed and make for the Tourist Campsite which costs only 50Rs a night (about 30p) but you really do get what you pay for. The grass is overgrown, the toilets are filthy and the place is overrun by large ants and mosquitoes, but hey its cheap! And it has armed guards which I think is a neat touch though how the unshaven, slovenly-looking guards would respond to an actual incident is anyones guess. I meet a few other overlanders here, most of whom have come from Europe so its good to find out bits and pieces of useful information plus I get given some maps for Turkey and Iran which is great. I stay for a couple of days before heading towards the famous Karakorum Highway (KKH) which traces part of the old Silk Route from China.
I head next to Islamabad, the day not starting too well as its pouring with rain (my Goretex bike clothing is no longer remotely waterproof), most of the streets are now flooded to a quite inpressive depth and I'm told I can't take the motorway and have to take the local (ie slower and more dangerous) road instead. Motorcycles are not allowed on motorways here but when I asked why, the official just replied "I don't know'. Great. AnywayI get there relatively unscathed and make for the Tourist Campsite which costs only 50Rs a night (about 30p) but you really do get what you pay for. The grass is overgrown, the toilets are filthy and the place is overrun by large ants and mosquitoes, but hey its cheap! And it has armed guards which I think is a neat touch though how the unshaven, slovenly-looking guards would respond to an actual incident is anyones guess. I meet a few other overlanders here, most of whom have come from Europe so its good to find out bits and pieces of useful information plus I get given some maps for Turkey and Iran which is great. I stay for a couple of days before heading towards the famous Karakorum Highway (KKH) which traces part of the old Silk Route from China.
I take the road through the Kaghan Valley on the way which is really pretty, well at least it is once you get past the stinking towns and away from the traffic anyway. There were quite a lot of landslide damaged areas of road to contend with on the way but thankfully nothing that kept me waiting more than about 30 minutes. I stop in Naran, and am quite surprised at how many Paksitani tourists there are and I even meet a guy from Bradford here. After doing my rounds of the guest houses and hotels looking for the cheapest place, I go out for dinner and am quickly invited to join a group of students from Peshawar. They are very interested in me, asking all sorts of questions about life in the UK and around the world and are keen to know my impressions of Pakistan. Back at the hotel later on, I'm about to go to bed when I'm asked to join a rather large family group of 25 from the south on their holidays for a cup of tea and am again bombarded with questions, mainly concerning why I'm not married which seems to be quite a concern for them. The following morning, I ride a bugger of a dirt road for 10kms up a steep hill to look at the lake here which is on all the postcards. All the other tourists are in Jeeps which ply this route as they are the most sensible vehicles for this terrain. The lake itself is pretty nice but its unfortunately busy with tourists all snapping away so I don't stay too long. The road north as it joins the KKH also turns out to be an utter swine of a road but the scenery is great.
From Gilgit, which has apparently been a main stop on this route for about 150 years, I ride all the way up to the border with China which is located at 4,700m altitude. The scenery gets better the further north you go and I'm pleased I've come this way as its been a dream of mine for years to see this. I chat to the Pakistan and Chinese border guards for a bit taking in the bleak scenery all around before turning south. I read that brown bears live up here but disapointingly didn't see any. It takes another 3 days to get back to Islamabad though I do stop off in Gilgit for a wee rest for a day as the constant riding is taking its toll on me physically and mentally.
On the way towards Islamabad, I lose it with quite a few drivers who nearly kill me with their awful driving. What normally happens is people decide to overtake a vehicle anywhere they fancy but mainly on blind corners when I'm approaching from the other direction. Its pretty tiring having to dodge oncoming vehicles in my lane all the time and sometimes, I play chicken with them, slowing right down so so they also have to and eventually my front wheel meets their bumper and they then have to reverse and get back into their own lane. Another time, a taxi came so close to me that I kicked its wing pretty hard. I wasn't sure if I could take much more of this driving and was excited when some new overlanders back in Islamabad told me about an Australian guy who'd put his bike and himself on a train to Quetta for only $20. Unfortunately, I checked it out and it took 28 hours and would cost much the same as the cost of riding there so reluctantly geared myself up to ride to Quetta to pick up my Iranian via.
On the way towards Islamabad, I lose it with quite a few drivers who nearly kill me with their awful driving. What normally happens is people decide to overtake a vehicle anywhere they fancy but mainly on blind corners when I'm approaching from the other direction. Its pretty tiring having to dodge oncoming vehicles in my lane all the time and sometimes, I play chicken with them, slowing right down so so they also have to and eventually my front wheel meets their bumper and they then have to reverse and get back into their own lane. Another time, a taxi came so close to me that I kicked its wing pretty hard. I wasn't sure if I could take much more of this driving and was excited when some new overlanders back in Islamabad told me about an Australian guy who'd put his bike and himself on a train to Quetta for only $20. Unfortunately, I checked it out and it took 28 hours and would cost much the same as the cost of riding there so reluctantly geared myself up to ride to Quetta to pick up my Iranian via.
No comments:
Post a Comment