13 – Pakistan August to October 2007

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

At last! The morass and dog’s breakfast that passed for the Pakistan photos has finally been sorted out.
Click on the map to open it

We crossed from Iran to Pakistan on 23 August.

Taftan is the border crossing with Iran and we camped here for a night. Near to Taftan there is a joint Pak-Chinese mining project, and we spent a very pleasant evening with some of its Pakistani staff. We were travelling with 2 Dutch couples, both in vehicles which couldn’t do more than 70 kh/h. This didn’t worry us too much, as we had heard that the road from Taftan to Quetta (the first significant city you reach when coming into Pakistan from the west) was 650 kms, poorly maintained and hazardous. So we had arranged to travel in convoy with the Dutch and left the next morning. About 250 kms later, in the middle of the afternoon, we arrived at an ABSOLUTE sh1thole named Dalbandin. Dalbandin police station is a place which most overlanders stop at for the night en route to/from Quetta…what we wanted to do was ask at the police station whether they thought it was safe to continue to Quetta, or at least whether there were any places after Dalbandin but before Quetta so that we could break the back of the journey on the first day. But, the language barrier being what it was, we weren’t able to get this across and as soon as they saw us they went straight into ‘stay the night’ mode and we were ushered into the compound. Imagine our shock when we found out that we were locked in with prisoners! Pakistani police stations are used as prisons and there were a lot of overflow prisoners from the cells just sitting in the compound right next to our vehicles. Being stared at is bad enough, but one of the Dutch had made the mistake of asking what the prisoners were in for, and being stared at by rapists and murderers whilst sweating like a pig in the sheltering heat wasn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep. Next morning we left at 8, but it still took us the best part of 10 hours to get to Quetta. I also remember stopping at all the checkpoints along the way to sign in and noticing that a Polish biker had done Tafan to Quetta in 1 day a few days before we came through – he’d signed into the last checkpoint before Quetta at about 10.30 PM!

Pics of Taftan border crossing to Quetta

Pakistan – Taftan-Quetta

This is a ‘Twister’ or mini-tornado we saw along the way

Further surprises awaited us in Quetta, for when we arrived just before nightfall we were told that there was to be a 1 day strike in the town the next day and that all tourists were confined to their hotels. This tallied with the FCO’s guidance on Quetta (‘avoid all but essential travel’) and the Dutch ended up staying at the most expensive hotel in town as it was also the only one with a high enough doorway to let their DAF truck inside. The strike passed off with only a few routine bomb blasts, which we didn’t hear about until the day after.

We were also introduced to the delights of Pakistani bureaucracy, for we wanted to drive to Multan and had been told we needed a permit. So off we went to the Baluchistan State Government Secretariat and of course a simple procedure took 3 hours of going from the Assistant Secretary (Pol ii) to the Sub-Deputy Assistant Under-Commissioner to the Head-Under-Sub-Inspector before arriving finally at the Permanent Secretary who took one look at our application and wrote ‘do the needful’ and signed it before passing it back to us…..and then the whole process was repeated so that we could get the permit actually drawn up. Makes Ealing Council look positively streamlined.

The next morning we left Quetta and off we went with our armed escort. There followed a fun drive of 140 kms to Ziarat, the local hill-station, where we’d arranged to spend the night, following our various escorts as they careered through the traffic at breakneck speed while waving hapless lorries, car drivers, motorcyclists and pedestrians out of the way and scattering chickens galore. I don’t know if Pakistani police have the same jurisdictional issues as American police, who can’t even chase criminals across state lines, but we must have had 5 different escorts for this journey. Or should have had at any rate, for sometimes the escorts would stop at the edges of their patches and ask us to wait so they could hand the baton on to their opposite numbers, while on other occasions they would just wave good bye to us and we would either go all the way though to the next patch without an escort, or meet them coming the other way after we had come a couple of kms. Bearing in mind all the adminstrative barriers, it was impressive that the system worked as well as it did, for most of the time they were waiting for us. Ironically, the road which had been flagged by the FCO website as the most dangerous was about the one road in Baluchistan where we didn’t get any escort at all ie from Taftan to Quetta. In Ziarat the local police inspector was very helpful with helping us sort out accommodation “because if anything happens to you in my area it’s my responsibility” and gleefully showed us the leather-covered tabble tennis bat-like ‘facilitator’ they used to whack prisoners across the buttocks to encourage them to confess. Across the bat was written in Urdu the words ‘ Where did you spend the night?? Come oh my love – I am waiting for you.’

Ziarat contains the Residence where Ali Jinnah spent his second-to-last night on earth before being taken to Karachi and promptly breathing his last, although local rumour has it that Quaid-e-Azam actually passed away here, and was taken to Karachi while ‘officially’ still alive so that Karachi could justify being the site for his mausoleum. Juniper trees lined the walking paths in the hills around Ziarat and our police escort surprised me when his ID card revealed he was actually 10 years younger than me and not 10 years
older…moisturising creams are more popular among rich Karachi women than poor Baluchistan men, it seems.

The drive to Multan the following morning had to rival the one from Taftan to Quetta for horrendousness. 60 kms of this 400 km drive appeard to be a stalled road-upgrading project and I got my answer to the question ‘why don’t these trucks move over a bit more when we’re passing them?’, for we saw 2 trucks which had clearly made the mistake of driving too close to the edges of the few tarmaced sections which had remained and which had promptly collapsed under their weight, creating holes whch they had fallen into. The next delight in store, after we’d passed the roadworks, was a landslide blocking the road. The fairly level road had abruptly given way to a steep gorge, with sheer drops to the river from the armco-less road. Whether the landslide had been caused by the road widening that was going on above it or by more natural causes wasn’t clear…alongside ‘RSPCA Inspector in China’ must be ranked ‘Health and Safety Officer in Pakistan’ in the league tables of pointless jobs, for all the time the bullozer was clearing the debris there was a digger merrily beavering away above the landslide. This delayed us for the best part of 2 hours and the police escorts waiting for us on the other side of the landslide were a little less than amused. By the time we arrived in Multan it was nearly 11PM and not only were we a bit tired after 16 hours of driving but with an impatient police escort in tow we had better things to do than driving around looking for hotels, so took a needlessly expensive place.

The next day was Friday – my birthday. On Fridays, Multan is……..CLOSED. No ifs, no buts, no museums/shrines/parks/mosques open for sightseeing, no corner shops (well, that’s an exaggeration) but essentially Multan is SHUT on Fridays. What’s more, despite it being less conservative than Quetta
there isn’t even any alcohol. Well, there isn’t any beer but whisky is available if you ask the right questions along the lines of “if I can’t get beer, can’t I get anything else?” as I found out by accident.

After Multan, we headed to Islamabad/Rawalpindi, stopping at Khewra salt mine along the way. In Islamapindi we relaxed, getting stuff done on the car and taking it easy before heading north for some trekking.

After Quetta, we headed for Multan passing through Ziarat, then Multan and pretty fast up the (excellent) M2 motorway to Islamapindi, stopping only to see the amazing Khewra salt mine.

Pakistan – Quetta-Multan via Ziarat

Whilst in Multan, we visited the Multan Mosque. There was a mother-cat and her litter of kitties just inside the front door, skulking under the wooden shoe storage. I couldn’t resist!

On our first night in Rawalpindi, we happened across this street band – actually just across the road from the Blue Sky Hotel where we stayed.

I spent 12 hours one day with my car while it was being worked on…..I have been lucky enough to hook up with someone who works as a doctor and who also runs a business making parts for, and rebuilding, Jeeps and old model Landcruisers (!) Ehsan has got his workshop to do some metal fabrication for me and also put me onto someone else good to fix some chronic mechanical issues on my Landcruiser which have needed attention for some time. After the piece of metal had broken off inside the injection pump in Turkey, it had to be rebuilt with Nissan Patrol injection pump innards as a ‘get you home’ measure, Turkey being one of the few places where it’s difficult to get Landcruiser bits. This lasted all the way to Pakistan aka Landcruiser Heaven, and it was here that the pump was rebuilt and the injectors were renewed, with Toyota Genuine bits. Additionally, the front steering swivels were renewed together with various other front axle components and the steering box was rebuilt – it was leaking like a sieve prior to this but now hasn’t leaked a drop in 40,000 kms.

But with the layout of the facilities as they were, I didn’t feel I could leave the car as parking is very restricted around there and the car was open with all the contents on show while some distance away from the workshop. Thus I had to stay with it while half the special needs population of Rawalpindi stood around staring at me slack jawed and open mouthed.

Later that night I was so fed up with hanging around with the car all day that I decided to go off to the beer shop in an auto-rickshaw (all the other places around the workshop having been closed by this time) and on the way back I was stopped by the police, just 200 metres from the garage. They were wearing plain clothes and in retrospect it seems a bit coincidental that as soon as the rickshaw stopped they seemed to be expecting to find a foreigner inside and also the way they asked if I had any bottles. Non-Moslems in Pakistan can buy alcohol, but only with a permit, and I didn’t have one. Sure enough they picked up on this and told me I’d have to come to the station with them, but I just kept stonewalling them and denying that I understood what they were talking about. I didn’t think this would do much good, but surprisingly it did – they seemed to lose interest and gave me back the bottles and my passport, but not without trying to salvage some benefit for themselves by demanding 1000 rupees. I thought I’d have to pay this, but again stonewalled them and was able to escape the tender mercies of Pakistan’s Finest with no inconvenience apart from a good laugh at their Keystone Kops incompetence. I suspect the rickshaw driver called them on his mobile while I was inside the beer shop.

Have a look at the pics of the offroading I did with Ehsan and Carlos in Islamabad. Carlos, a diplomat at the Brazilian Embassy, had got to know Ehsan through the Islamabad Jeep Club and they met up for off-roading every so often. This was pretty much the first time I’d ever done anything like this, but that training day in the Chilterns in February came in mighty useful. Interestingly, the land we did the offroading on was not too far from the Pakistan Air Force HQ; Ehsan mentioned that it was slated to be built upon as part of the new Navy (or was it Army) HQ to rival the existing Air Force one. All around Islamabad I was to see examples of Pakistan’s ability to continue to function on a micro level regardless of the convulsions at the macro. Or perhaps the above was simply an example of inter-service politicking and empire-building, which isn’t unique to Pakistan at all. Just read the Lewis Page book Lions, Donkeys and Dinosaurs:-

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/reviews/lions-donkeys-and-dinosaurs-by-lewis-page-522690.html

The truth is out there.

Islamabad offroading

Videos – Ehsan climbing. Ehsan’s Cherokee is actually powered with Toyota Landcruiser 40 mechanicals…make of that what you will!

Carlos. His was a 3-litre petrol HiLux Surf…..very noticeable how much more he had to gun it compared to the diesels driven by Ehsan and me.

….and me. My attempt to crest the same hill as Carlos and Ehsan

We got our Indian visas in Islamabad and also got introduced to the delights of the shuttle bus system for anyone who wants to apply for a visa, or visit an embassy for any other reason, in Islamabad. Not knowing about this, we simply assumed we had to arrive between 10 AM and 12 noon and collect between 3 and 4 PM with 5 working days in between for the visa to come through. But because of this ridiculous shuttle bus system for the Diplomatic Enclave we found out the hard way that it’s necessary to arrive at least an hour before closing time. You have to go to the car park, leave your vehicle and buy a ticket for the bus and then wait till the scheduled departure time for the bus, which goes about every half an hour. When we applied for our Indian visas, we did come across a Swiss couple in a camper van who’d driven it right into the Enclave to collect their Indian visas by telling the gate people they had an appointment at the Swiss Embassy…..when we came back 10 days later to collect OUR Indian visas we tried telling the guards we had an appointment at the British High Commission and it worked so we didn’t have to mess about with the shuttle bus – they didn’t even check the vehicle! However, you shouldn’t bet on that ruse working. Another thing we were caught out by not only here but also when we collected our visas for Pakistan from Tehran was the issue of ‘Gazetted Public Holidays’. Embassies all over the world close for public holidays in their own countries that bear no relation to holidays in their host countries, and Ind/Pak ones seem to be closed for this reason rather often! Suggestion – check beforehand, either by phone or internet, that the embassy will be open on the day you plan to visit it.

Another suggestion for applying for visas for either India in Pakistan, or Pakistan in India is to check the current diplomatic state of play. Issuing may be affected if India and Pakistan have recently thrown their toys out of the cot before you get there. We had originally planned to apply for our Indian visas from Tehran, but we had been told it wasn’t possible to apply from Tehran due to Indo-Pak tensions; a phone call to the Indian Embassy in Tehran confirmed this was the case, but that it was OK to apply from Islamabad (!)

We did plan to leave Islamabad/Rawalpindi on 10 Sep, but this was knocked on the head by the brief return of Nawaz Sharif:-

http://www.rediff.com/news/2007/sep/10pak.htm

After what he tried to do to Musharraf on 12 October 1999,

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/7a830770-5d81-11dc-8d22-0000779fd2ac.html

I thought it might have been a good practical joke for Musharraf to wait till Sharif’s plane was 15 minutes away from landing at Islamabad and then get Air Traffic Control to send a message to Sharif telling he couldn’t land, followed by a second message a few minutes later saying ‘only joking!’ but alas it was not to be. I have very little time for Sharif – he couldn’t even sack Musharraf properly, as he waited until Musharraf’s plane was so late in its flight before denying it permission to land that it was so low on fuel it had no choice but to land in Pakistan anyway….surely the plane should have been told to divert away from Pakistan far earlier in its flight when it still had enough fuel to do so. Add to that the way he threw away the lives of 4000 soldiers on the pointless Kargil campaign in 1999, and then tried to deny it was anything to do with him, and one has to question his fitness to rule.

This is the beginning of our trip to the Northern Areas. Abbotabad to Chilas going up the Kaghan Valley, stopping at Naran (with a side trip to Lake Saif ul-Maluk) and continuing over Babusar La before descending to rejoin the KKH at Chilas. Babusar was the highest point we’d gone over at that time (4175M) but apart from smoking a bit the car seemed to manage fine which is more than can be said for me when I tried walking around a bit at the top!

Pak – NA 1 – A'bad up Kaghan Valley 2 Chilas

Driving up the Kaghan Valley, we happened across a blockage caused by roadworks. We’d seen plenty before and after, but this one we videoed for some reason. Yet another eg of how Pakistan gets on with it regardless of the headlines you read about what goes on at the top.

On our way down from Lake Saif Ul Maluk, we happened across this outdoor school run by a charity, for children who’d been made homeless by the 2005 earthquake. The children clustered around the teacher were learning how to say ‘frog’. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough on the draw with the camera, for the first rendition we heard went “F-O-R-G” – by the time I got the camera running, it had become the “F-R-O-G” you can hear!

Also, just look at the little ‘classroom assistant’ keeping all the children around the blackboard in line with her stick.

General scenes of the road conditions and spectacular scenery on the KKH

Having rejoined the KKH at Chilas, we then headed north as far as Bunji, where we turned off for the second of 2 detours off the KKH. This one was via Bunji to Astore, then Deosai Plains, then Skardu.

Pakistan – Northern Areas 2 – Chilas-Gulmit via Skardu

Somewhere near Bunji, I had a go of this rope bridge

On the way to Deosai Plains, we spotted a farmer using cattle to winnow hay.

Whilst near Skardu, also in the Northern Areas, we happened across a tractor crossing this rather precarious-looking suspension bridge

Pics of Kunjerab Pass (the border with China) all the way south along the KKH to Mansehra, just north of the start of the KKH and near Islamabad

Pakistan – Northern Areas 3 – Kunjerab down KKH to Mansehra

Somewhere north of Mansehra on the KKH, we happened across this cable car which is used to help people and goods get between 2 sides of a deep gorge

Just north of Mansehra, at the bottom of the KKH, on the same day we saw the cable car, we found ourselves passing through a area choc-a-bloc with chicken farms. Couldn’t resist taking a peek inside one!

Another video I saw in Pakistan was this. It’s quite powerful, especially the head movements and the hair flying around. Shame about the comments people have left on youtube, though.
NB – this video seems to keep getting put up on youtube and then taken down again. If you click on this link and it doesn’t work, try going to youtube.com and then searching under ‘Indian Song Pakistani Dance’. Enjoy!
Pakistani dance

General scenes of Lahore street life. Amanda didn’t know what to expect in India after the relative calm of Northern Pakistan, but Lahore was a good taster of what awaited her on the other side of the border!

Pictures of Lahore

Pakistan – Lahore to Wagah border

On the second to last day in Pak, we made the obligatory trip to Wagah border to watch the amazing and comical flag-lowering ceremony. With its ‘Russian goose-stepping meets Ministry of Silly Walks’ choreography, this should be top of the list of sights for anyone to see from either Lahore or Amritsar.

First part

Second

Final

At the end of our time in Pakistan, we drove into India at the Wagah/Attari border crossing – where only the day before we’d seen the flag ceremony.