Karimabad - Altit Fort

After a slow start to the day I went for lunch with Denis and Hugo to a place in Karmiabad. The food was excellent: Dhal, Omelette, and amazing Chappati. While we were eating, we got chatting to some Pakistani guys who were here visiting on vacation.



Denis had been to see the Altit Fort in the morning, and after telling me about it I decided to head out and take a look. It's a 4km walk to the fort, but it's a pleasant trip through the small villages of the Hunza Valley.

Setting off from the Hunza Inn:



And the view on the way:



The fort and associated old town was built 900 years ago, and much academic research has been done on the fort due to it's historical significance. After more or less being abandoned, it's now being restored, thanks to money from both the Aga Khan foundation, and various governments around the world.

What it means to the local villagers is that they can return to their ancestral homes, which have been renovated, including modern facilities such as electric and running water. The renovations have been sensitively completed, so there are no cables or pipes on view.

The ancient pool – in which all the boys swim:



I was lucky enough to be able to join a Pakistani group who were here on vacation as the guide took us around. After looking around the old town we were taken to the royal garden, and then the fort itself. Here's some pics:

The fort close up:



The small dark cool rooms in the fort – this wall has a body inside – when the king was displeased with one of his sons for rebelling against him, he had him bricked up in the fort. Nice!:



Intricate carving within the Fort:



The ingenious roof openings that allow smoke out, but can be closed when it starts to rain:



The amazing view back up the KKH from the rood of the Fort:



The watchtower:



And the equally amazing view down the Hunza valley:



The Old Town of Altit:



The 200 meter drop to the valley floor:



Er...me!



Years ago, warriors used to jump from the edge of the cliff onto this rock almost 6 feet away to prove that they were hard enough:



The serene royal gardens (on an interesting point, Prince Charles visited here with Aga Khan a few years ago):



And the tiny alleys of the Old Town:





And looking back up at the fort perched on it's spur of rock:



On the way through the old town the guide invited me to his father-in-law's house for tea, and we spent an hour talking about life in the village. After the pleasant walk back, it was time for the excellent communal dinner at the Hunza Inn.

Karimabad

I really fell in love with Passu. And I thought when we left that I'd seen the best of what the Hunza valley had to offer. But having arrived in Karimabad – it's every bit as amazing.

All of the people who'd stayed at the Passu Inn had agreed to meet at the Hunza Inn in Karimabad, and one of the great things about the Hunza Inn is that they have communal dinners at 8:30 each night – and the food is pretty good.

The next day I needed to try and find some replacement shoes – because mine have started to leak in. So I headed to Aliabad with Denis and Hugo to have a look around and hopefully get a replacement pair.

I ended up chatting with a teacher, Selena, at one of the local schools, and he invited me to his school for tea. It's the school holidays at the moment, but the Principal and some of the other teachers were there, so I had tea with them, and we chatted for a while.

Hunza is really a remarkable place. All the people here see education as being pivotal to the progress and development of the area – and contrary to what were often told in the western media – education is seen as being improtant for both girls and boys. In the Hunza valley both are offered equal opporuntities.

And in common with Passu, Selena was able to tell me of the many pupils who had gone on to further education and top flight jobs. It was a fasincatring insight into the local community and the culture of the Hunza valley.

After lunch, and having no luck on the shoe front, we headed back to Karimabad and I decided to try some of the shops there.

One of the shop owners was a fully qualified mountain guide, and after telling me that he might have some shoes that would do the job, invited me in for tea. It was another interesting hour of chatting about the mountains, and many glacier crossings that can be made in the area. HIS NAME had been on a number of treks along the Baltoro Glaicer, and the more we talked, the more I relaised that I need to return here and spend more time exploring the area.

After an hour, I tried on the shoes – which sadly didn't fit. But he did tell me of a guy who repaired shoes.

It's incredinble how people repair things here that we would simply throw away, and with little more than a sharp awl, and a piece of heavy duty string, the guy stitched the parts of the shoe that were leaking. While I'll need to replace them in the next few weeks – they'll get me through to Islamabad.

And then it was back to the Hunza Inn for diner.

Denis and Hugo playing chess at the Old Hunza Inn:

The Road To Karimabad...

It's always fun when unexpected things happen on the road – and today was going to be another of those days.

It was raining when I woke up and met the others for breakfast. The plan was for us all to head down to Karimabad using our various modes of transport and meet for Dinner at the Old Hunza Inn.

While I'd had a great night's sleep, I still wasn't feeling that great and my breathing had worsened in the night – not much – but noticeable to everyone else. Denis started asking me some questions about how I was feeling, and all his questions diagnosed exactly what was going on - in detail.

I already knew from the conversations we'd had that Denis has 20 years experience in acupuncture, and had been in China for a few months learning more advanced techniques. After perfectly diagnosing everything that was going on he offered to do some acupuncture to see if it would help at all.

He was very clear that sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't – and unlike some other complementary health approaches I've tried, Denis never promised anything – only that it was worth trying – and if it didn't work then there were other things that might.

And after his very clear diagnosis of my symptoms I decided to give it a try. Now those of you who know me know that I have an aversion to having needles stuck in me. So after asking five or six times if it was going to hurt (much to the amusement of everyone else) I decided to go for it.

I'd have to say – it was nothing like I expected and was really amazed by the experience.

Firstly – the needles aren't that big – and as Denis put the first one in I felt hardly anything. He then moved it until I could feel what I could only describe as a not unpleasant burning sensation, at which point he stopped and went onto the next one.

After having three needles in my back it felt like there was energy flowing between my shoulders – it was a really amazing sensation.

Next Denis put a needle into each of my wrists, and these caused what I can only describe as a very mild electric shock.

But it was the next two - in my chest - that had the biggest effect. I had this amazing warm sensation radiating out from the needles, and what felt like pressure – as if someone was pushing my chest gently with their palm.

The final two needles went into my lower legs and again I had the most amazing feeling of energy flowing through my body.

After ten minutes, Denis moved the needles slightly to recreate the affect, and this time it was much stronger than before. It left me feeling incredibly awake and alive. While my breathing symptoms remained – I felt really amazing. And as the morning progressed I started to cough up the fluid that asthmatics get in their lungs as part of the symptoms.

Another ten minutes later the needles were out and I felt great.

Not at all what I'd expected when I'd woken that morning – and another experience to add to my now very long list :-)

Having packed our things Denis, Hugo, and myself went out to stand by the side of the road and wait for some transport to arrive, while Alex and Alison waited for the weather to clear before setting off using their own transport.

And we waited...

And waited...

And waited.

At lunch time Alex suggested we have pasta and tomato sauce for lunch – so we bought some things form the store and made lunch.

And then we waited...

And waited...

And waited.

When it rains here, the chance of rock slides increases and we thing this was why there was very little traffic on the road. But as the day wore on the weather improved, and so at 3pm Alex fired up his BMW GS and headed out onto the road.

Alison was also planning to make a move, but a flat tire and a ruptured tire cement tube meant she was going to have to stay in Passu until the electric came back on and someone could heat weld her bicycle tire.

Luckily for us, at 4pm someone came along who agreed to give us a list for 150 rupees - so we bundled our things into the tiny minibus and set off.

Needless to say – the scenery was amazing and was somehow enhanced by the rain and clouds. As we passed down the valley, we could see tiny villages clinging to the mountain side, while the river wound it's course through the valley bottom.

The rocky landscape on the road to Karimabad:



At one point the scenrary changed into sheer granite cliff faces, with huge boulder piles – it was a climber's dream – and though austere maintained it's own unique beauty.





After almost an hour we spotted Alex ahead talking to some locals, and I was able to get these shots of him as he quickly over took us.





The scenery on the way into Karimabad:





Small villages clinging to the mountainside:



The Hunza Valley – and Rakaposhi just coming into view:



And finally we arrived at Karimabad.

And Karimabad meant one thing for us all: Internet access – and the chance to contact people from home. Ten days without any Internet access – probably the longest period of time in the last five years I've not been on-line.

And after our on line fix, we headed to the Hunza Inn and had a great dinner of dhal, veg curry, rice, and salad.

Another perfect day on the road – amazing people, amazing scenery – and unexpected experiences.

Passu

After a quick breakfast of fried eggs, chapati, and tea - Denis, Hugo and myself squeezed ourselves into a small minibus along with twenty one other people to make the one hour journey to Passu. Needless to say – the scenery was incredible.







There was no one at the Passu Inn when we arrived so we sat in the garden and had cold drinks while we waited for the owner to arrive. After arranging our rooms, we headed out to find lunch, and then made our way along a trail to find the Passu glacier.

The main road at Passu:



The green fields of the village, kept fertile by the glacial waters:





There's a map just behind where I'm sitting now that shows all of the glaciers in the area, and it's amazing how many and how easy to access they all are.

Scenery on the way to the glacier:







After about an hour we came to the glacier, and made our way up the Moraine until we were standing right on the top, just around from the terminal face. As the rocks were so unstable – with huge boulders threatening to crash down on us – we made our way back down and along the lake shore, and after some scrambling came to within 20 meters of the terminal face.

The terminal face of the Passu Glacier:





Denis and Hugo scrambling over the giant boulders towards the Glacier face:



And looking away from the Glacier:



Cold air rushed down the huge glacier that stretches far up the mountain side, while water rushed from the cave like opening.

And then we walked back through the moraine with the smell of sage strong in the summer sunshine, the amazing ridge of mountains on all sides. I can't think of a single place I've been in the world where the mountains rise so sharply and to such a great height.

The view towards Passu - the almost unreal quality of the view adds to the atmosphere:



At the bridge across the river we met Alex, from France, whose riding a BMW GS from Paris to Kathmandu, and he decided to stay at the Passu Inn. We arrived back to find that Alison had made it to Passu on her second day, and so we all had dinner together before calling it a night.

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I've not been feeling one hundred percent for the last few days, and was having some mild asthma symptoms. But there was a trek in the Planet that we all wanted to do, and with a light drizzle and the mountains covered in cloud we set off.

The Passu Glacier covered by mist:



Having walked for a while I started to struggle as we hit a steep up hill section, and concious that I was holding everyone else back, reluctantly decided to return to the village.



It felt like the waste of a good day, and I was feeling really deflated and frustrated as I trudged slowly back to Passu. Except the day was going to take an unexpected turn, and provide me with one of the most memorable experiences of my trip.



Not wanting to be cooped up, I set off to meander slowly through the village, and on my way a man told me that there would be some music festivities and that I should come back in twenty minutes. So I dropped my things at the Inn, and wandered back towards the school.

On my way, I met Rasool, who invited me to join the festivities that were just about to start.

Yesterday was the day that Aga Khan, the spiritual leader of the Ismaili Muslims became the Imam, and they hold several days of activities, and today – the village was gathering to dance.

Originally planning only to watch from the back and then leave without being noticed, I was soon ushered up onto a covered area in the school yard, and told to sit on one of the few padded seats as the music started. I quickly worked out that the seats were reserved for the elders of the village, and ended up sitting with Rasool on one side, and the village Imam on the other.

Three musicians provided lively music, while the men danced. After an hour, the school yard was packed, the women on one side – all dressed in beautiful and brightly coloured saris, with the men sitting on the other side.

As the festivities went on, Rasool provided a running commentary on what was happening, who was who, and the history of the village and school.

The people in Pasu are Tajik descendants who many years ago came from what is now Tajikistan, via Afghanistan, and into Northern Pakistan. The village believes that education is key – and educate both girls and boys in mixed classes. In fact, the village of Pasu now has two schools to cater for all the children.

Many of the former children are highly educated, and as they danced, Rasool would tell me where each of the young men lived, and what his profession was. There were doctors, engineers, several high ranking army officers – all living in Islamabad, Karachi, or Lahore. All had returned for the festival.

Rasool also explained to me that there were people from Passu working all over the world – and named half a dozen countries and the various professions - all the former students were highly qualified and in respected professions.

The dancing would follow a set format. One of the men – clearly the organiser – would get some of the men up too dance – they would always say no, no, but would soon be dancing.

One would lead, the others would follow, and then the lead would change, until three or four people had led around the school yard, and then the original leader would lead for a while and the dance would end.

Everyone danced – young and old. Even the young men from the big cities, who were dressed in modern western clothes and would not have looked out of place in Manchester. Everyone was encouraged, and the atmosphere was supportive as people clapped and cheered. When the woman all laughed at one of the boys who made a wrong turn leading his group the men shouted encouragmenet, and everyone cheered him on.

And then – disaster. The band stopped. The organiser announced something.

And then he pointed at me. A special dance for our honoured guest - Rasool translated and smiled.

And then they were calling me to join in the dance. Five young men got up and one led off the dancing, and I tried my best to follow as the six or seven hundred people cheered on. And then – to make it worse – the man who had been leading stepped back – and told me it was my turn to lead.

I felt nothing but encouragement as I stumbled my way around the school yard, arms in the air, spinning around while the other men followed and everyone cheered. As I passed the organiser he was shouting encouragement at me in Urdu with a huge smile. I didn't need any translation.

And then one of the other men took over, and I stumbled along trying to match his moves. Needles to say – my dancing was the worst of the day – by a long way. Some of the men – particularly the young guys seemed so connected in to the complicated rhythms, and some of the moves would have been at home even in the most complex of Bollywood routines.

And then – thankfully – it was over, and I returned to my seat.

I spent an incredible afternoon with the people of the village - it was my honour and privileged to be invited to join them. My thanks to the people of Passu for making it a day that I'll never forget.

Sost

Today was one of the those perfect days: Fun, terrifying, and perception changing.

The Karakoram Highway runs from Kashgar in China all the way to Islamabad in Pakistan, and on it's way crosses the Khungerab Pass, making it the highest paved international road in the world.

It was opened in 1982 - and during it's construction (which took 20 years) almost 900 people died. Work still goes on to upgrade the road, and to deal with the many landslides that occur in this region.

You can read more about the highway by clicking this link.

Having said goodbye to Jay, I headed off to the customs building at the other side of town to buy my bus ticket to Sost, and to get stamped out of China.



Looking towards Pakistan from China:



The Karakoram Highway goes through incredible scenery, along a wide open valley, where people keep cattle, and golden marmots play at the side of the road as it climbs its way up to the Khungerab Pass.



It's name – pass of blood - comes from the silk route days when raiders would attack the camel trains at this remote and isolated location. Thankfully those days are now gone, and we reached the top of the pass, at 4693 metres, without incident.



At the top of the pass Alison, a Canadian whose cycling through SE Asia, China, and now Pakistan got her bike from the roof, and we waved goodbye, got back on the coach and headed off down the other side of the pass into Pakistan.

Welcome to Pakistan:



Those of you who follow my blog will know that I have a real fascination with borders, and the way the landscapes always seems to change (I'm still looking for one where it doesn't :-). And amazingly – as soon as we set off, there was a marked change as the walls of the pass began to crowd in and we dropped down into Pakistan following the course of the Indus River.

The scenery is truly amazing - like no where else I've been. Mountain peaks covered in snow crowd the skyline, as the road clings to the side of the mountain with the river rushing in the valley floor.



A rare glimpse of the Marco Polo sheep - named after the famous explorer. While they are currently endangered, a national park has been created to protect their natural habitat in an attempt to save the species:



And then finally we came to the check point at Dih, where our passports were checked and we paid the $4 national park fee.



From there it was on, through the narrow gorges – the walls closing in ever closer before finally the pass began to open out again.



And then, ahead, a line of traffic signalled problems – and a real change in the day.

A huge rock fall covered the road making it impossible for traffic to pass, and we all piled out to see what was happening. We'd been told that a rock fall had blocked the highway and would take a day to clear, but it turns out that they had blasted part of the rock face because of problems with landslides.





Our options were to wait on the coach until the next day, or walk around the road block and find onward transport. The driver told us it was only 4km to Sost, and Denis and Hugo (father and son from Quebec in Canada) decided that we'd set off on foot.

So we climbed around the rock pile and made our way along the mountain road on foot.



At a road building camp we asked the distance to Sost – and were told 20km – way further than we'd been told, but with no other options we set off for the long walk.





Denis and Hugo leading the way:





As we're walking, a Petrol Truck appears and we're greeted by three Pakistani men who are sitting on the front bumper of the truck. They shouted for us to get on, and so Denis and Hugo climbed up onto the roof while I took the final space on the bumper.

I'd like to say that I wasn't scared – but for the first few minutes I was terrified as we raced along the narrow road. But I soon got chatting to the other guys and started to really enjoy the ride.

At one point, the road straightened out, and the driver put his foot down and we were soon doing over 80km, holding onto the frame of the bumper as the wind rushed into our faces.

It was an amazing ride – no glass to obscure the view – and the continual thought that one bad bump in the road and it could all be over. But it was a total adrenaline rush, and 40 minutes later we pulled into Sost.



The other guys on the bumper were all trying to get to Gilgit, and as they waited for their bus I sat with them for several hours chatting. And the more we talked – the more my perceptions of this amazing country changed.

They were all highly educated – doctors on their way home for the summer vacation. I'd got some questions already running round my head, and they were quite happy for me to ask away.

Most of them were from the Swat valley – a place I would love to visit but won't be able to on this trip because of the fighting in the area. The Pakistan government have an offensive against the Taliban, and many of the local population have been moved to Islamabad and Peshawar to reduce civilian casualties.

I'd been told by a number of people I've met on the road about how kind and welcoming people in Pakistan are. And I was to see it twice on my first day here. My new friends were all Pashtuns, who are well known for their generosity both to each other and to strangers.

During the conversation I was telling my new friends about the problems in China, and that I'd been able to contact anyone at home and was waiting for an opportunity to call home so that I could let people know that I was OK. One of the men pulled out his mobile phone and insisted that I use it to call home – as he was adamant that I should let my family know that I was OK.

I offered to cover the costs of the call – but he refused any payment – saying that he was just glad to have been able to help me out.

New friends in Sost:



A short time later, Denis and Hugo came to where I was staying so we could go for dinner, and given that there was going to be no more buses to Gilgit we all decided to head out together. We sat in a tiny little hut and had Chicken curry, Dhal, and Sag with Tandoori Roti – the kind of food I've been craving my entire trip :-)

When we'd finished and it was time to leave we asked how much it was, and our new friends said that they had already paid for us. When we tried to offer something towards the meal, they were insistent that it was their pleasure to feed us.

An incredible end to an already amazing day. I couldn't have asked for a better first day in Pakistan.

One of the many "pimp my ride" Bedford trucks that run up and down the highway: