Pakistan-Karakoram Highway

It was 1972, my old mate Pete and I worked on an old US army, Willy’s jeep, we rebuilt an Austin Cambridge engine and tried to match it up with the Willy’s 4×4 gear box. After 2 trial runs burning out clutches, we admitted defeat and left the Willy’s behind. Pete bought a Norton Commando and we were off to India. After storing the commando in Istanbul, we continued on buses, through Turkey Iran and Afghanistan. That’s where I ran out of money and had to hitch back, while Pete continued on to Pakistan and India.

In 1974 I was back in Kabul but this time I was able to get to Pakistan, India and all the way to Australia.

Almost 50 years later, I was on a flight from Kuala lumper to Islamabad. Jack the lad had sent me a link, which was a story about a fella on a motorbike trip on the Karakoram Highway in Northern Pakistan. I’ve always imagined doing a trip on a bike with my son, so I replied immediately with the message, let’s do it! I was back in Bali, Jack was working all hours in Vancouver and Brandon, a mate of Jacks from school who would be joining us, was also hard at it in London. So it was up to me to organise the trip. It’s a bit more complicated these days to go anywhere and especially Pakistan. I started with an email to Lizzy at Karakoram Bikers, a company that doe’s tours but also rents bikes to those who wish to go alone. To go to Pakistan, Lizzy informed me, you need a letter of invitation from a tour company. Lizzy was fantastic and we spent the next couple of months exchanging emails, filling out form after form until we had all the paperwork to enter Pakistan, a task I couldn’t have done without the help of first Lizzy and secondly my friend and technical advisor Zoe who I’d met in Bali.

I arrived in Islamabad as the sun was setting, I had no Rupee’s and was surprised to find there were no money changers in the airport. I was soon targeted by a friendly taxi driver who told me he could take me to a money changer in the Blue Zone on the way to the guest house that Lizzy had recommended and booked for me. He was very helpful and made my arrival in a strange land easy, so I ended up giving him the price he started with after the inevitable haggle and arranged for him to pick me up and take me back to the airport two days later for my flight to Gilgit. I was here for one full day, which I’d already decided would be more than enough for the sprawling concrete jungle I’d arrived in. I walked up to the Faisal Mosque the following morning, a very impressive bit of architecture and a popular place for locals and visitors. Being a Friday there were many people wandering around, the main thing for me here was the connection I had with the friendly young men of Pakistan who were keen to chat in English, hold my hand and have photo’s taken with me. From there, another long walk to THE MALL, 4 stories of Globalisation, expensive modern shops, with all the brands you find everywhere in the world, I could have been anywhere if It hadn’t been for the Pakistani way of dress, all around me. I was glad to get back to the Guest house and was looking forward to getting to Gilgit the following morning. Got to the airport bright and early, went through the motions and was sitting at the gate ready to board and was told the flight had been cancelled due to bad weather, bummer!! the weather forecast was bad for the next few days and I may be able to go in 3 days I was told. F***! another three days in Islamabad!!!! Jack and Brandon weren’t arriving for another 2 weeks so, OK, I’ll have to get by in this stinking hot place with no character for a few more days. I could have gone to the bus station and got a share a car for a 12 hour road trip but it wasn’t guaranteed, there was lots of rain and floods and I was told there could be landslides on the road.

I understood the cancellation when I eventually got in the air on a spectacular 1 hour flight through the mountains on a 2 engined propeller driven 50 seat plane with an incredible view of Nanga Parbat that I could almost touch, known locally as the king of the mountains. Gilgit is in a valley surrounded by mountains, today was clear blue skies but I could see, if it was cloudy or the wind was wrong it would be a dangerous place to land. I was met in Gilgit by Ali, the young man who ran Five Giants homestay which is home for Karakoram Bikers and would be my home for the next 8 days, while I waited for the boys to arrive from London. This was more like the Pakistan I remembered, Five Giants was a few miles the other side of Gilgit in a small town called Danyore. I was travelling light with only jeans and clothes for riding, Ali took me down to the material shop, then on to the tailor where I got a Pakistani style suit made, I was going to be here about a week while I waited for Jack and Brandon so now I could sit around in comfort. I spent my time here walking into town, chatting to locals and settling in to the Pakistani way of life. The boys at five Giants are incredibly hospitable and friendly, a trait I would find all over Pakistan. Demi the cook asked if I’d be home for dinner and What would I like to eat, What ever your cooking was my reply. Every day He asked the same question and got the same answer, after that first night I wouldn’t eat anywhere else, the food was magnificent and different every day. One day I went for a walk into town late, the sun went down and I got lost, when I didn’t show up for dinner, Demi jumped on his bike and came looking for me, I probably would have found my way eventually but it was a relief to see his smiling face when he found me, after walking for miles in the wrong direction.

Jack and Brandon would be arriving in the morning, Inshallah, I went to pick them up, an hour late but not cancelled. After seeing me in my suit, they both decided they too needed to be comfortable, It had to be quick because we’d be off on the bikes in a couple of days, so, that first day on the way into Gilgit for a cut throat shave, we stopped in town for material and measure, for 2 suits, I decided to get another one plus 2 shirts which would be perfect for me in Bali.

We got three good bikes, made in Pakistan Suzuki GS 150’s and set off riding, parallel to the rapid river heading south to flood the plains, on our way to Karimabad in the Hunza Valley. We stopped for lunch in the Nagar valley sampling chaps hore, or meat bread and taking in the surrounding mountains. On to Hunza valley and Karimabad. The road had been good up to now, until we got to the first landslide of the trip. There was a lot of heavy machinery and a detour, so it didn’t hold us up much. Karimabad was off the Karakoram Highway a bit, the sun was still up so we decided to continue to Pasu.

We came to a tunnel, off came the sunnies, no lights but I could see light at the end of the tunnel, then came the next tunnel, Jack was up front, then Brandon, with me bringing up the rear, it was pitch black in an instant and I fumbled around and found the light switch, an orange glow appeared, like flicking on a lighter, I still couldn’t see a thing, I fumbled some more looking for main beam and the biked died. Jack and Brandon disappeared into the darkness and I was stranded. It was pitch black, no light at the end of the tunnel this time, there was no traffic, a light appeared coming from the direction I was headed, it was Jack, they had stopped at the end of the tunnel, 3 km away at an opening of about 10 meters admiring Attabad lake, they weren’t sure whether I’d gone passed and not seen them and gone into the next tunnel, also we discovered, about 3km long and pitch black, so Brandon stayed there, in case I came back from the second tunnel and Jack came to see if I was in the first tunnel, he pulled up, I now had light, is there a cut out switch he says, I laughed, flicked the switch and off we went. Jack has been calling me chief mechanic!!! Oh how very embarrassing but nice to be rescued by my boy!! We found a place to stay, the other side of the second tunnel, on The bank of Attabad Lake. A good first day, apart from a small drama, of my own making, the bikes performed ok but no night riding from here on in. We sat on the flat roof and gazed out over the lake and surrounding mountains as the sun was going down, we got a call to go down for dinner, when we returned the full moon was just appearing between two peaks. Pakistan is alcohol free but Afghanistan and Pakistan produce some of the best Hashish on the planet So, after dinner, I rolled a joint, we sat and watched the moon climb up the side of a mountain and continue into the black and sparkling sky. Aye!! aint life grand!!!

We were headed for the Khunjurup pass and the highest border crossing in the world at 5000 meters, on the old silk road, between Pakistan and China. This was going to be a big riding day, there wouldn’t be anywhere to stay up there and we had no camping gear, so, we have to get up there and come back. Passed through Sost the last village on the highway and started to climb, at about 3000 meters, it was getting cold so we stopped, got the jackets out, off with the fingerless gloves, on with warmer gloves, the road was winding and steep, hardly getting time to get into third all the way up. After about 20kl I suddenly got a feeling something was amiss? I discovered my ring, that’s been on my finger for 30+ years was no longer there. Cold fingers, changing gloves, gone!! Ah well!! it’s gone, nothing I can do, I’d never remember where we’d stopped, the terrain had been the same for miles. Got to the top, not much up there apart from a couple of border guards with big guns, howling cold winds and a bunch of Yaks. Walked around a bit to get the blood flowing and told the boys about the ring, ah, no worries says Jack, Brandon’s got a photographic memory, he’ll know where we stopped. Headed back down the pass, with me bringing up the rear again, half way down, Brandon stopped, Jack followed, I stopped, saw an old apple core I’d thrown away on the way up and there sitting on the road, was my ring. Wey ya bugger, looks like I might have my lucky ring for another 30 years, Oh Yeah!!!

We carried on, headed for Pasu, almost there, Jacks gear leaver dropped off, a job for the chief mechanic, Ha Ha!! it had just loosened up and come off the splines, quick turn of the spanner and it was sorted. We found a whole house in Pasu to stay the night, for about $15. Jack and Brandon wanted to find a suspension bridge in the area, after riding down a few goat tracks taking up most of the morning and not finding a way, we eventually got the right track, we got the bikes as far as they would go and walked the rest of the way. The river was running fast, the bridge was about 65 meters long with the odd slat of wood to step on, so over we went, (slowly). We stopped in Pasu, and had a Yak burger and chips, they had a good supply of yaks in a pen on the property. It was getting late, Jack and Brandon wanted to climb up to a glacier before dark. Karimabad was an hour and a half away. I decided to pass on the glacier and go find a room for the night, it would be dark by the time they got back from the glacier. My one candle power headlight was going to be a problem going back through the tunnels without Jacks good light to guide me but when I arrived, low and behold this time there was light in the tunnels. I found a good place in Karimabad over looking a river with more mountain views, settled in and waited for the chaps, who turned up a few hours later. Sitting on the balcony in the morning, Jack and Brandon were looking over at the mountain range, planning how we might get up to another glacier. Off we went, another false start, on a track going nowhere. Went through a small village and found a track on the other side, started out ok but the higher we got the worse it got. These are road bikes we’re on!! the donkey track was rocky and steep with a long drop if we were to accidentally go off track! On we went, up and up, until the bikes would go no further. This was high altitude, my old lungs weren’t up to the task of walking higher so the boys carried on, on foot. I was happy to just sit and take in the vista and breathe the air. After about an hour the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the temperature dropped dramatically, I had nothing warm and was contemplating heading down, when a couple of guys appeared from nowhere, we had a chat and I discovered they were mining for quarts, they invited me to their little stone shack for tea, how could I refuse. About an hour later Jack and Brandon arrived, the gas went back on, more tea and chats, Pakistani hospitality. The ride down was scary, even in first, holding the bike back, it was necessary to touch the brakes and when you did the bike would slide all over the place. I was pleased to get to the bottom and back to Karimabad.

We wanted an early start, our destination, Skardu, when we got to the bikes, Brandon had a flat tyre, put air in, 5 minutes later, flat. Not surprising really after the ride yesterday. So we were held up getting it repaired, by the time we got started it had started to rain, we weren’t going to make Skardu today, Danyore was our new destination. The rain was heavy and we weren’t equipped with wet gear, Brandon almost lost the back end but managed to keep the bike upright, probably because of the bald tyre I’d noticed earlier. We decided to stop at five giants tonight, get a new tyre fitted on Brandons bike and go to Skardu tomorrow after drying out. We got away at the crack of 8, in soggy jeans and shoes, no matter, the sun was shining. The Karakoram on this stretch was good, winding through the mountain. I took the lead today and rode that bike hard, came round one bend to find a huge bolder on my side of the road that had rolled down the mountain, I had to change my line quickly and avoided it but it slowed me down for awhile. Came round another bend and there were a load of trucks parked, we carried on passed, until we came to a major landslide. We weren’t going anywhere for a while. The digger would arrive in about an hour we were told, we went back a way and found a local eatery and had dhal and paratha while we waited. One digger on the on coming traffic side and one on ours had the road cleared in a couple of hours. We arrived in Skardu, a biggish city we had no intention of staying in. A few kilometres out of Skardu is the Kalpana or cold dessert, huge sand dunes at an altitude of 2500 meters that get covered in snow in the winter. We found a good place to stay on the edge of the dessert. Went into Skardu that night to check out the place and had dinner. Chicken, mutton, paratha, raita and coka cola, in a basement, sitting crossed legged on the floor. Also had a few side dishes from street vendors along the way, just loving the food in Pakistan.

Today was going to be a short ride to Shigar, about 50 kl, on bitumen, we decided to take an alternative route on a dirt track through the valley, lots of small rocks, shale and sand but it was the bull dust that threw me off the bike. You get a lot of this in the north of Australia, a powder that covers pot holes so you don’t see them, until your in them. The bike was sliding all over the track but I had control, until the front wheel hit a rock covered by dust that I didn’t see and down I went. No damage to the bike and the only damage to me was my pride, the most experienced rider on the trip and the only one to drop the bike. Got to Shigar and found another whole house and decided to stay a couple of nights and rest up before heading to Gilgit via Diosai National Park. This was the most gruelling road of the whole trip, there was hardly time to enjoy the magnificent scenery all around us, the focus had to be on the road ahead. Any lapse of concentration could result in a long fall down the mountainside. The road snaked around the mountain slowly getting higher and higher we were on our way to one of the highest plateaus in the world at 4000 metres. By the time we got to the top about 4 hours later, we were exhausted but a journey well worth the effort. Green plains surrounding Sheosar lake, all surrounded by mountain peaks. On top of the world. Stopped at the little tea stall for a cuppa, took a well deserved break, before heading down the other side on the way to Astor. Another gruelling 4 hours down. We were about 2 thirds of the way down I was behind Jack, I saw his back end starting to slide, caught up and told him to pull over. A puncture on this road!!! with no means to fix it, we had no choice but to continue and hope to find a small village soon. After a very slow 5kl we rounded a bend and what do you know, a small hut for puncture repairs. The tube and the tyre were shredded, the rim was ok, so a quick fix and we were on our way. Daylight was rapidly disappearing, we hadn’t made Astor, no matter, found a place in the next village, had dinner, by the river and a good sleep. Tomorrow we were headed back to Danyore.

After a couple of hours of off road the following morning, we hit the bitumen, Oh Yeah!! I took the lead again and rode those winding roads hard, all the way back to Danyore.

We were all booked on the same flight back to Islamabad the following morning, I woke early with a message on the phone. The flight to Islamabad had been cancelled, Jack and Brandon had a flight back to London booked the following morning, so we had to get there today. I woke them to give the bad news. Nothing for it, I had a word with Ali, he got on the phone and organised a car and driver for the 12 hour trip to the capital. I’d already dismissed the hundred dollars for the flight, Jack was on the phone to Pakistani Airways having a go at some poor young girl, and whose gonna pay for the car to Islamabad?? Brandon and I were smiling, Jack had switched his phone off when he arrived, not wanting to get any work related stuff and was chilled the whole trip. This morning he was back in corporate mode. Thanks to Jack we all got the money for the flight back, eventually.

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I Am….The Lonesome Traveler….The Journey Continues….Be Happy