Time to leave Pakistan

From Islamabad, I rode down to Dera Ismail Khan stopping on route to have yet another cup of tea with the manager of a Suzuki garage someplace and answer the usual questions. I got to DI Khan just after sunset but although I had a hotel marked on the GPS, it turned out to be really expensive at 1,400RS ($20) so rode around looking for somewhere cheaper. I tried several places, all of which told me they were full which I found surprising given that the place was a shithole. A hotel manager eventually took pity on me and led me around a few places and explained that no one wanted foreign people staying at their hotels because we are a security risk. I was quite taken aback by this but even more so when a guy who announced himself as Head of Security for DI Khan pulled up on a bike next to us and informed us he'd been following my tail as he'd heard a tourist was not getting in any hotels. It transpired that there were only 2 places I should stay in that were considered safe, one of which was the first place I'd tried. I eventually agreed to staying in the other one and got the price down to 1,100Rs with the head of Security saying he would put a guard outside for the night! As I got settled into my rather plus room with cable tv, the power promptly went off as it does regularly here and I sat eating my dinner by candle light in my room.

(Note- despite my apparent lack of concern regarding security, I just read on the BBCs world news website that 32 people were killed in a suicide attack in DI Khan just 3 days after I left)

The next day didn't exactly improve either. As the food in the hotel had been quite expensive, I opted to get something to eat on the road and stopped a few km's away for some samosas. When I'd finished, just as I was about to leave, I turned the key and nothing happened, no neutral light, nothing. I sat there trying various things and not wanting to strip off all my luggage and create a spectacle for the locals to gawp at in this small town, I managed to take off a side panel and check out the main fuse. Unfortunately the fuse seemed to be fine which indicated something probably more troublesome and worse, meant dealing with it here. I already had a fair crowd around me by this point and when I said I needed somewhere out the sun to work, one helpful guy arranged a sheltered space under an awning and even got a fan out for me. Working out a electrical problem is usually hard enough without 30 people standing all around you watching your every move but that is what you have to deal with here. They mean well, are curious about you but are just plain bloody irritating when it comes to moments like these. Anyway, I had to strip off all the bags and get the seat off and thankfully I noticed the battery terminal screws had come a bit loose and after a quick tighten, normal service was resumed and I could get it all put back together again under about 30 pairs of eyes.

No pressure then!

Mr Security had warned me last night not to take the Zhob road which is the most direct route to Quetta as its not safe so I reluctantly headed south to Dera Ghaza Kgan to the south and as soon as i got there, I was quickly stopped by the local cops who wanted to arrange a police escort for me. I'd heard a lot about these from other overlanders, they usually taking you miles out your way on a 'safer' route and generally involved startlingly slow speeds of around 30mph. As we were waiting on somebody, the crowd and traffic swelled around us to examine the new creature in the zoo- me. The chief was a pretty witty guy and after finding out I was not married, he proclaimed "ha, so you are a virgin then!" The crowd are really getting annoying now and the cops shout the equivalent of South Parks "nothing to see here, move along now" and of course the crowd takes absolutely no notice whatsoever. I then had to follow them on their bikes to what I assumed was the Police Station but was actually a mobile phone shop where my passport was then examined. For some reason, the chief seemed to think I'd overstayed my visa and had to repeatedly point out I had at least 2 weeks left on it. Outside the shop was the equvalent of Hanson album launch crowd, all trying to look in and see what was going on. They really are nosey bastards and it was getting on my tits. Thankfully, we finally got the go ahead to get the hell out of town and I left with 5 guys on mopeds carrying AK47's which I thought was frankly riduculous. After a few miles, I was getting tired of the speed they were riding at and I left them behind, only to find a police van pulling out in front of me further up the road. They were equally slow and wanting to see how far I could push it, rode past them too. I felt a bit guilty so stopped for some petrol after a few miles and was joined by yet another guy on a 125cc moped who didn't appear to actually have a gun. This guy was super slow, painfully slow, especially on hills and he got annoyed every time I tried to pass him so I endured this for way too many miles till we reached a check point where I was appointed yet another guy on a moped. At the check point they told me the area coming up was tribal and therfore dangerous, but after a few miles of climbing the hill, it started raining and my guard waved me on and turned back. How strange. On the other side, I got yet another pair of guys with AK47s again but God were they slow. I wondered if something were to actually kick off, what a pathetic chase it would be at 30mph. I really couldn't see Steve McQueen signing up for that particular movie!

Cue some 'whacka whaka' chase music

That night, I make it to a tiny place called Kingri, not exactly as far as I'd hoped to have gotten in a day. There was a guest house aranged around a small courtyard and outside, the road was buzzing with a plattoon of soldiers who had stopped for a few hours. I was warmly received and invited to sit with a local guy and then later with the major and sergeant who were great fun to chat to. After the soldiers moved on, I nipped back to the courtyard later and passed the bike, and I suddenly noticed my fuel tank filler cap had gone. After having lost quite a few items on this trip, I now remove everything that can be removed without being ridiculous but removing the filler cap is going just a bit too far. Suddenly I was raging and I knew it must have been one of the guest house owner's kids pissing about but no one was admitting to anything and they even tried to suggest it was missing when I arrived! One actually tried to put a plastic bag over the opening thinking that would be fine! I told them I wasn't paying for anything until it turned up and then I started to look around the courtyard with my torch. Amazingly in a corner, I spotted my fuel cap laying amongst some junk. I was relieved but still angry that someone could be so stupid. I decided to move the bike into my room to make sure nothing else was pinched. I looked into the tank with my torch to see if anything had been put inside the tank too and could see something but it was hard to make it out. In the daylight the next morning, I took another look. It was the lens from one of my indicators! I couldn't believe it and after retrieving the soggy lens, despite offers of breakfast and a guided tour of the local coal mine (tempting though it was) I got the hell away from there.

As if things couldn't get any worse, I tried to find a quiet spot to eat something around 1pm and within 1 minute, had 10 kids plus some guys on a bike pull up to watch me eat. Then later in the day, around 20kms from Quetta, I got a very scary blowout on my rear tyre, the rear of the bike being uncontrollable for a while till I managed to bring it to a halt. This was really what I didn't want to happen but the road was so rough, I actually kind of expected to get a punture. And before I could say "piss off, the lot of you", I had over 20 kids and teenagers all within 2 feet of me while I got on with taking off the rear wheel. I'll freely admit loosing it with this lot who just found it all the more amusing. One kid kept pissing about too close to me and I nearly belted him just to get him away from the bike in case he toppled it over. I just had to put my blinkers on and try and ignore the crowd to get on with the repair which wasn't easy, especially when one of them kept shouting at the passing traffic for the Taliban to come and get me which he obviously thought was hilarious. If I hadn't been using my tire levers, I'm sure I could have found a few more fun uses for them!

I eventually made it to Quetta and am due to pick up my visa for Iran tomorrow. Some overlanders I met today (on very organised bikes - well they were German!) at my hotel tell me it will be so easy from Iran onwards. They're going the other way towards Australia and have only had 2 days of Pakistan so far. Best of luck lads!


On the way out of Pakistan, I stopped for the night about 130kms from the border in a small town. There wasn't much there but the Customs office has a large and secure compound where I was given a metal bed frame to sleep on outside, a hot meal plus lots of tea and biscuits. The officer I met there was very friendly and was great to chat to. He was very interested in the differences between the counties I'd been to and what I thought about Pakistan. I learned that the locals selling petrol by the side of the roads here had smuggled the cheap stuff in from Iran but were selling it at around the same price as Pakistan petrol which explained why I was getting such crap mileage out if it. When I asked why the Customs guys weren't bothered, the officer just shrugged and said that the people here were poor and needed to make a living somehow. I really enjoyed sleeping out under the stars (though not as many as in the southern hemisphere) on my bed and was quite snug in my sleeping bag watching the moon come up and the satellites go by.