PAKISTAN 99 |
Cycling the Karakoram Highway |
| Our overall route |
Stage 1 Kyrgyzstan
Stage 2 Xinjiang
| Our route down the Karakoram Highway |
We had spent most of the day pushing the bikes to the summit of the Khunjerab Pass, so we were looking forward to whizzing down the other side. But as we crossed from China to Pakistan the condition of the road deteriorated markedly. The steep series of switchbacks down from the pass were deeply potholed, covered in gravel and running with water. Our hands were soon aching from hanging on our brakes, trying to keep our speed down.
At the foot of the switchbacks the road squeezed through a deep, narrow channel cut through the ice of a small glacier. Then we were off down a rough track carved out of the steep mountain side. Way below us a raging torrent ran through a narrow gorge at the bottom of the valley. The sides if the valley were so steep and littered with huge boulders and scree that it was a long time to before we could find anywhere to camp. Eventually, we found a patch of grass clinging to the mountainside and were able to pitch the tent. There was a glorious sky that night, a canopy of a million stars in the inky blackness between the valley walls. This I know I because was up every half hour with stomach cramps.
| Below the Khunjerab Pass |
The morning sun didn't reach into the depths of the valley. In the dim chill shade the gorge had a threatening, unstable feel, as if it had not quite finshed forming and at anytime there might be an upheaval. Every now and then the valley echoed to the crash of boulders falling.
The road climbed high above the river on a narrow ledge blasted out of the rock. It made me nervous just looking at the raging torent below and I kept urging Rowena to keep away from the edge. Eventually, around mid-morning we emerged from gorge into the welome sunshine. From there it was an easy freewheel down to the Khunjerab Security Force check point at Dih. Here, amongst neat army bungalows and whitewashed stones, a friendly officer checked our passports and offered us tea.
From Dih, the road descended into another deep rocky gorge. In the depths we passed small road gangs working to clear the latest rockfalls. Eventually we emerged into a wider valley and soon after arrived at the frontier town of Sost.
| Winner of the Sost best dressed truck competition |
After over a week in the wilds, it felt strange to be amongst people again. It was also a little strange that Rowena was the only visible woman in Sost.
In the evening, the waste ground beside the highway started to fill up with trucks, lining up like birds coming home to roost. They were all splendidly decorated and each had a little mahout whose job it was to wash them and pretty them up. We did a tour of inspection and each one was more impressive than the last.
In the morning we set off for Passu. It was a pleasent pedal down the valley, past poplar trees swaying in the wind and little orchards of apricot trees climbing up the valley sides. Rowena was still feeling hard done by every time she had to climb a hill, but otherwise it was a good day. Approaching Passu, we were stopped in our tracks by a gale force wind blowing up the valley. It was so strong we were forced to push the bikes down hill.
| The Hunza Valley at Passu |
Next morning we cycled a little way down the valley to Gulmit and the splendid Village Guest House. Feeling only slightly guilty at such a short pedal, we spent the rest of the day relaxing in deck chairs in the guest house's sunny orchard.
The following day it was raining and cloud filled the valley as we set off for Karrimabad, about 40km below us. It was a fairly tough day with some hard climbs in the wet. Road signs warned us of "Landslide Danger" then a few kilometres futher on told us to "Relax - danger over". There weren't many other vehicles on the road, but we were passed by a few contenders for the "How many people can you get in a jeep" competition.
| Ultar II 7,388m from the meadows above Karrimabad |
We stayed in Karrimabad for a couple days, visting the fort and climbing up to Ultar meadows. Then we descended the precipitous road back to the highway, and pedalled along the valley through lush orchards and tiny fields. The road ran high long one side of the valley with spectacular views across to the snowy peaks on the otherside. On the far side, tiny villages seemed to defy gravity clinging to the steep valley wall. Then we freewheeled down a long steep descent, right down to the bottom of the valley and across the bridge at Ghulmet. Soon after the bridge we turned off the highway once again and followed a track towards Minapin.
The Diran Guesthouse at Minapin is one of the treasures of the Karakoram Highway. Here, a distinctive new building and an old colonial bungalow look out over a beautiful garden and orchard. We arrived in a thunder storm and were swept inside by the friendly manager. Later, when the sun came out, we sat outside, ate beautiful yellow cherries from a tree in the garden and watched the ducks play in a stream. Next day, with one of the waiters from the hotel, I climbed up through the juniper meadows to the glacier at Rakaposhi base camp.
| Hunza valley near Minapin | Diran Peak from Rakaposhi basecamp |
| Dysentery at Chalt |
It took me two days of rest to recover from my illness. During this time the villagers, especialy the old gardener, were very kind and concerned. A policeman even turned up after the villagers had accused the Doctor of overcharging me for his consulation. Finally, I felt well enough to cycle and we set off for Gilgit. It was a very hot, but not too strenuous pedal down the valley. As we pedalled along we were shown that up to now we have only seen the amateurs in the "How many people can you get in a jeep" competition. Now, we were seeing the real professionals: four on the front two seats, six on the back seat, two in the boot, a couple on the roof, one hanging off each side and a couple hanging off the back.
Because we took a wrong turning and missed going over a couple of picturesque suspension bridges, I arrived in Gilgit in a foul temper. For some reason, this pissed me off more than anything on the holiday and I was absolutely livid, banging on my handlebars and cursing anything that moved, as I cycled into town. Rowena followed at a safe distance.
There were two truly wonderful things in Gilgit; Mr Haidry's tea shop and pots of smooth, cool, fresh yoghurt.
| Naltar valley |
We took the bus to Rawalpindi. It was a journey that was supposed to take 16 hours, but a landslide and worn out engine turned it into 24. Two days later we drove to the airport in a spectacular thunderstorm.
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| © All text and photos copyright Tim Barnes 2004 |