Motorcycle Diaries
It seemed like a once in a lifetime for me. I did not think I could be convinced to hop on a motorcycle in an underdeveloped, patriarchal country and leave home without telling anyone.
Signing Up For It
I had recently graduated from college, and as clichéd as it sounds, I wanted one last adventure before I would embark into the ‘real world’. The initial plan was to go backpacking in China through the Khunjerab pass but as it turns out, not many friends are up for it and worse yet, China doesn’t grant tourist visas to Pakistanis unless it is a group of five (so much for that Pak-China friendship, huh?)
The first time my friend floated the idea, it seemed impossible for so many reasons: what would I say at home, how would it work, the logistics, the costing, the fact that none of us had ever been up north on a motorcycle before, what would I wear – track pants and helmet to disguise as a boy or shalwar kameez with a dupatta over my head, but mostly that I was a girl traveling with ‘na-mahram’ boys. A few weeks later he bought it up again, with a rough itinerary and the idea that we could do an entire circuit of the north, that’s when it sparked my interest. I realized everything that was on my Pakistan-specific bucket list could be checked off. I would deal with the social problems when it was time to cross that bridge.
Islamabad to Dir
I questioned my impulsive, irrational decision to agree to this trip when I woke up at 4am in Islamabad the day we were going to leave. Day 1 was going to be from Islamabad to Dir, a distance of 330km and also the day I was dreading the most. This was also the stretch that we had spent the maximum amount of time arguing about during the planning simply because of my reluctance to stay the night in Dir and the boys inability to understand my social concerns. As expected, the first day was the hardest, helmet on, cruising through scorching heat in 35 degrees Celsius in the conservative areas from Punjab to Dir and only stopping for occasional water breaks, and not a single other woman in sight in most of those areas.
It was 12 hours on the motorcycle before we reached Green Hills Hotel in Upper Dir.
Dir to Chitral
Despite the several body aches from our first day, we woke up with more confidence. It felt like the hardest part was over and I was dying to go deeper into the mountains. Day 2, we headed to Kalash Valley in Chitral district. My apprehension about staying in Dir made me want to leave it as soon as I could. We had a quick breakfast on our hotel room floor – everyday was the same, chai and eggs for breakfast, chai and fries when we reached our destination. And several chais along the way whenever we needed a break.
Back when we were planning the trip, we had set two rules for ourselves:
- We will not ride in the rain
- We will not ride in the dark
The second day was when both these rules were broken. We left Dir slightly later than planned. We had to cross the Lowari Tunnel connecting Dir to Chitral before 1:30pm, the time it closes for all vehicles crossing. Fifteen minutes into our journey, it started pouring heavily making it difficult to continue with the ascent on slippery mud. On top of us shivering with the cold, our luggage was getting drenched because Day 1 was also when we lost the ponchos for our bags. We stopped for shelter at a small restaurant and waited out the rain. Lucky for us, we were on our bikes in another hour or so. The day turned out to be interesting as at every check post, the army or police would stop us and ask my friend to play a song for them on his guitar – the kind of attention his inner musician never got in Lahore. So after spending considerable time chatting, snacking and playing at several checkposts, we crossed the Lowari Tunnel, 8.75km long and quite impressive and into Chitral.
Rule #2 was broken further on when we turned towards Ayun right before sunset and realized this small town offered us no place to stay the night and we were forced to ride on towards Bumburet which is a long, bumpy ride on a non metalled road from Ayun and takes roughly two hours. I would have thoroughly enjoyed the ride, had we not been stressed about the narrow ridge that we were riding along, watching the sun slowly setting behind the Hindu Kush range in the backdrop.
Getting to PTDC Bumburet was a relief. The next day was a well deserved rest day. Our day off happened to be the 14th of August and there could have been no better way to celebrate Independence day than being in kalasha, appreciating the rich culture, intriguing history and immense beauty that this valley has to offer. Bumburet is the largest and most populous valley of the three main valleys in Kalash, surrounded by the Hindu Kush mountains.
Kalasha to Mastuj
Bumburet was a day well spent and a rest day much needed. The next day we were to continue our journey to the small town of Mustuj, where we were going to spend the night at a local’s house that he had converted into a small guest house. Probably the toughest part of our day, everyday, was to tie our bags to the motorcycle. It was a task that took us a good 20-30 minutes if we were lucky. In the first few days, we had to stop mid journey at least 7-8 times a day because somebody’s luggage was falling. The day from Kalasha to Mustuj was not an easy journey. The most dangerous fall of 14 days took place on the same narrow ridge to Ayun, where we had to stop riding and take a break to overcome the shock of possibly dying had our bike fallen two feet further.
After stopping at PTDC Chitral for breakfast followed by PTDC Booni for Lunch, we reached Mastuj. Up until now, all the places we had stayed in were more populated areas. Mastuj is a quaint little town that has a very attractive feeling of isolation. It is a remote, small and friendly town full of culture and spirit. We spent most of our evening interacting with our hosts and listening to interesting stories about the culture and lifestyle of people here.
Note: PTDC is Punjab Tourism Development Corm. It’s owned by the Government of Pakistan and they have several motels around the country at reasonable prices.
Mastuj to Shandur
Mastuj onwards we were getting to tick the things off my bucket list. Shandur top, at 12500ft has the highest polo ground in the world. The polo ground hosts the Shandur Polo Festival each year in July, when the entire top turns into a tent city with many people coming in from both Gilgit and Chitral to watch the game played in its original form. In August, however, ours was the only tent standing besides Shandur Lake. We were advised not to camp at all given the season for camping was over and the night was going to be extremely chilly and windy. But what’s life without a little adventure, right? So there we were – our first night camping.
Tip: Camping may not be the best accommodation when you spend all day being exposed to dirt, dust, and tailpipe smoke from vehicles.
Shandur to Karimabad
With almost no sleep, but a desire to get out of the cold into the cozier, familiar surroundings of Karimabad, we eagerly started our journey at 6am, this time on an empty stomach with just a cup of tea in the morning. We were skeptical about reaching Karimabad on time, but equally motivated to do so. The journey on this day was unexpectedly one of my favorite days on the road. The route from Shandur to Gilgit takes you through some of the most scenic valleys of Gakuch, Gupis and Phander. The road is twisting, with unspoiled natural surroundings passing through lush green fields, forests with high trees, flowing rivers with crystal clear water, a deep shade of blue and icy peaks in the background. Phander offers the kind of beauty that one gets swept away by.
I had heard stories about Phandar from my grandfather. I couldn’t have left without having its famous trout. We’d stop every time we saw a ‘fish farm’ sign board, asking locals where we would be able to get some. We finally got lucky right near phander lake for our lunch break of trout fish with roti. The food along with the breathtaking beauty in this valley took away all the exhaustion from the night before. The landscapes of this region are unparalleled to anywhere else that I have ever been, in any country.
The road from Gilgit to Karakoram is one I’ve become very familiar with. Observing it on a motorcycle still felt new. The magnificent Karakoram range in the backdrop of a starry night was awe-inspiring. We reached Karimabad around 9pm (Rule number 1 broken again).
A day of relaxing at Javed bhai’s villa, eating fresh plums from his garden, a warm shower and some time alone to read was exactly what I needed to regain energy for the remainder of our trip. We were half way through and as hard as it always is to leave Karimabad behind, confidence was high for the long ride we were going to have the next day from Karimabad to Skardu (300 km).
Karimabad to Skardu
I had been to Skardu once before on a trek, but never to the main city and had the excitement of going to a new place. We knew it was going to be a long day, but it turned out to be worse than expected. For one, it was extremely hot. At this point, all three of us had lost our helmets, our sunglasses and some of our sanity. Twice, i accidently put my leg on the cylinder of the motorcycle and had horrible burns. One of my friends had a back injury, so we had to take many breaks. Twelve hours later, we walked into the lobby of Shangri La only to walk out again, of course it fell way out of our budget. We stayed in Tibet Motel, opposite Shangrila, which offers the same view, just less luxury but luxury really wasn’t what we were after.
Eager not to waste our rest day in Skardu, we decided to check off the touristy to-dos that the area has to offer. I was most interested in Kharpocho and Shigar forts. Kharpocho, which means king of forts in balti, does not fall short of its name. It’s a must visit for anyone that goes to Skardu. Unfortunately for us, we were unable to visit Shigar fort as it had been closed to tourists that day due to the cold desert jeep rally that was taking place in SarfaRanga in Shigar district, around 20km from Skardu. This is one of the highest cold deserts in the world, is surrounded by snow capped peaks and the route flows with River Indus. Watching over 200 cars race through 30km of the cold desert was an amazing experience in itself. However, being the only girl among 4000 men is something I wouldn’t opt to do again.
Up until this day, we had been lucky with our motorcycle. Other than one near death fall we had, a few bruises and scratches and burning my leg on the silencer thrice (yes, i’ve learnt my lesson now), we had not faced any trouble. However, luck did run out and enroute back to our accommodation in Skardu, one of our bikes started slowing down courtesy of a tire puncture. So what was supposed to be a quick 30 minute drive back, ended up being a long struggle of of finding a mechanic shop. I guess this was bound to happen some day, and I was glad it happened in a big city.
Skardu to Deosai National Park
Day nine. Well fed, rested and shopped, we were up for another night of camping, this time in Deosai plains. Deosai translates to “The Land of Giants”. It is the second highest plateau in the world, at an elevation of about 13, 200ft. For the last three years, it had been on the top of my bucket list. It was also the place we would daydream about the most on the days leading up to the trip. I had read a lot about Deosai National Park and it exceeded all expectations. An area covering 3000 square kilometers, it is situated between the boundaries of the Karakoram and Himalayan mountains and is a magical and unique place. The entire area is covered with grass, with many wildflowers of purple, red, blue and yellow colors and Nanga Parbat in the distance. The night sky is nothing short of a scene out of a fairy tale.
We chose to camp slightly away from where tents have been set up for tourists to stay in for small charges. We spent hours sitting near our tent, listening to music and staring at the ceiling of stars in the sky, catching a meteor every few minutes.
We crossed Deosai National Park through the pass to the upper Astore Valley. From here, we planned to visit Rama Meadows, around 8km from Astore. This wasn’t initially a part of the itinerary but since we were here, and could spare a few more days we decided to go off route just a little bit – probably one of the best decisions we could have made on this trip. A road from the main bazaar leads on to Rama Meadows around 12km ahead. It was the perfect end to our trip as the next morning would be back into the busy life of Naran and then onto Islamabad.
This trip turned out to be a lot more than ‘one last great adventure’, it was also more than just checking off things on my bucket list. Thirteen days, 1900 kilometers, three mountain ranges, seven lakes and half a burnt leg later, it seemed surreal what I had done. For me, it was a life changing experience that gave me courage, confidence to go on to travel alone and amazing memories. The account I have written or the descriptions I have given do not do justice to the beauty of the landscape, or the love from the people we received on the way. It is exhilarating to experience every single moment of your journey, to be fully able to take in all the changing landscapes and beauty that Pakistan has to offer. Most importantly, this trip made me sure of one thing, as Guevra put it in The Motorcycle Diaries, “I now know, by an almost fatalistic conformity with the facts, that my destiny is to travel..”
