Lahore had allowed me to relax
and get back into the rhythm of travel after the stressful traffic in India. I
left the city early in the morning with high spirits excited about the road
through Pakistan. Unfortunately during breakfast I caught a glance at the TV screen where breaking news was describing the attack on a bus in Karachi, the death toll was rising before my eyes... 6, 9, 15, 25 until I later
discovered a total of 45 fatalities from this targeted Sunni-Shia conflict. It
had definitely downed OUR spirits... (I was still with the guys in the car).
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| Trucks overladen with grain, seeds and other 'light' farm products. |
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| Camel herds every few kilometers, I love camels! |
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| Brutal dry heat through the flat landscape. |
We left in the 45 degree heat and
arrived at our destination in Multan at 330 PM after a quick slog along the
highway. Here we skipped from hotel to hotel, trying over 10 different ones...
each time the rejection was similar to the last. We would ask for a room and
the receptionist would make a hushed phone call, from here either “no rooms
available” or a ridiculously expensive room offer... $60, $100, $200 per night,
in Pakistan that’s absurd! Eventually a police officer stopped us and after a
nice chat we told him our story. He was pretty shocked that we didn't have any
armed escorts from Lahore to Multan... anyway he was cool enough to call some
more coppers who then lead us back to the first hotel and made them take us for
a decent price... good-night right!
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| Local boy on the back guides me through the streets of Multan. |
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| They were all super friendly, and of course they always wanted photos! |
We unpacked and settled in, we
finally had a hotel... life was good! Around 9 PM the hotel manager came into
the room and said “checkout now please”. We were pretty stunned (it’s dark
outside bro). He gave us our money back and kicked us out without another word.
WHAT just happened! Dark and nowhere to stay we went and had dinner (a burger
to think straight)... then made our way to the police station. “Can we camp
here?”... they weren't too happy with the idea and after realising we couldn't
afford the ridiculous prices they took us to a new guesthouse and we had a free
night with free breakfast, awesome turn around! The city had left a bit of a
negative feel though, everyone seemed very reluctant to speak with us, and we
had to hide our vehicles within the compound that night.
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| Following the police that night to our new guesthouse. |
In the morning someone had messed
with my bike again, indicators, mirrors... everything had been moved, also my
tank breather was missing. After asking the manager if he knew who had ‘stolen’
it he proceeded to rummage around in the trash and pulled it out. I was
perplexed, why in the world would you take something off someone’s bike and
throw it in the bin! Anyway we waited a few hours for our escorts to finally
arrive and we were off! They wouldn't give us our passports until the police
escort arrived, hence we obliged. From here we were heading to Sukkur as the
direct route to Quetta was off limits to foreigners for security reasons. About
30 km out of town we were stopped at a checkpoint and told we cannot proceed
without a permit... strange, our friends had just ridden to Sukkur 2 days
before us with no problems! We were sent back to the hotel in Multan and asked
to wait.
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| Overtaking was sometimes a bit risky, but at least it made the ride interesting! |
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| End of the road, no permit = no go! |
After several hours wait the big
police boss in charge of the region came into our room. He was a huge fat man...
he threw off his shoes, laid down on our bed, ordered a drink and some food
before shouting his angry head off at us. “WHY YOU NO LEAVE MULTAN” “YOU
CANNOT STAY HERE” and it went on. We politely tried to explain that we wanted
to leave but weren't allowed to. Turns out our escort had taken us on the wrong
route and now no one wanted to accept the blame, so they were telling him that
it was our fault... fantastic! Around 1 PM they let us leave again, this time
on the correct route... apparently we were “lucky” to be allowed to leave without
charges, what the f***! We had over 20 armed escorts with loaded AK47’s and
various other automatic rifles in the back of Hiluxs or on bikes along the
route to Sukkur where we arrived at 9 PM. By 10 PM we had a guest house that
wasn't a complete rip off... but still not cheap.
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| One of the many checkpoints along the way with machine gun towers. |
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| Bursting point??? Crazy... and they were all like this! |
The following morning we were
waiting around for our escorts again when the hotel manager gave us our
passports and said “go now OK”. We happily left after the previous experience!
The escorts had been quite slow the previous day sometimes averaging only 40-50
km/h on the highway so it was good to be able to drive at a reasonable pace
this morning. We made it almost 100 km before we were stopped at a military
checkpoint and made to wait for new escorts. They were starting to ramp up the
security more, frequent checkpoints and usually 4-5 guys in the back. Some were
very professional and ordered us to drive in a certain manner whereas others
just waved us on and said “GO GO GO”. It was extremely hot and there was almost
no time to stop for food or drink, exhausting!
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| Escort vehicles with top mounted machine guns, usually held on by cable ties, cloth and tape! |
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| Waiting at the checkpoints had become normal, sometimes every 20 KM. Other times up to 200 KM. |
By late afternoon the landscape
changed from desert to mountains and it was like the news stories from the
Afghan war, it was surreal, bad-ass and kind of scary at the same time.
Especially since I’d read up on the conflict that had been ongoing recently.
After many more escort changes, including armoured vehicles and machine guns we
were taken to the only tourist hotel in Quetta. We had no choice in the matter
and were forced to pay the price. Here we weren't allowed out after 6 PM and
during the day only with armed escorts to and from ‘necessary’ matters. The
office that issues the permit required to drive through the dangerous route
from Quetta to the Pakistan / Iran border was closed Friday, Saturday and Sunday
so we were forced to stay there until Tuesday... 4 nights in this prison!
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| Stunning views all around, would have been amazing to stop for photos! |
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| At every checkpoint I had to sign a book with my details... here you could see all the other travelers along the same route. The last ones were our friends we'd met in Myanmar! |
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| Entering the mountain region near the Afghan border with Pakistan. |
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| Bullet proof land rover guided me in to Quetta, I would've felt safer inside! |
After the weekend we met down at
the lobby at 8 AM to organise police escorts to allow us to apply for our
permit to travel the 700 KM to the border. After a bit of arguing the hotel
eventually managed to call the guards... by 945 AM we were off. It was
literally only 500m away from the hotel. We signed in and gave our passports,
answered some questions and they began typing the permit... after having to
correct our names several times it looked like it was about to be ready. Before
we could go we had to have an interview, this also took several hours and
involved tea... it was friendly at first but got quite tiring after a while,
with most questions seeming quite irrelevant “weather in your hometown?”
“Siblings?” “Oh you’re an engineer... what did you study?” COME'ON BUDDY! After
a while it felt like the hotel, i.e. a prison!
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| Waiting around outside the police station with our escorts. |
Finally we got out of there with
the permit by 330 PM and my name was spelt totally wrong, but I definitely wasn't
going to go through all of that again just to correct “Jasechia”... the army
along the route will understand... I hope! The police wouldn't take us to an
ATM so we were sent back to the hotel, from here I had to wait a few hours
again until I could withdraw money. Finally I had cash and realized food on the
street cost around 60 cents for a meal as opposed to $2.60 in the hotel...
rip-off! Speaking with some local store owner I also discovered that the
traditional clothing costs under $10... before when I had asked in the hotel he
had said he could organise some for $35 and the cheapest around $25... again it all felt like a scam! We were all very fed up with this hotel and its manager, he’s running
a monopoly as all tourists have to stay in this one and he continually lied,
just “$$$” signs in his eyes. Is it coming across that I was pissed!?
Anyway here's an extract from the permit
process-
In the interview with the police
chief there was some very insightful and hilarious (for us) banter /
informative conversation. Word for word no joke.
”Lying is a crime, if someone
steals something, hurts someone or breaks the law and I catch him... he will
say he did not do it. He will swear on the holy book that he did not do the
crime. Then I will take him to our torture cell and do some exercises with him.
Now he will tell me what he did and who helped him.”
“If you talk to a woman in the
street her brother or father will kill you, especially in smaller villages.”
“When you want to marry a woman,
you go to her house... fire your gun in the air and go home. Her father will
then come to your home and if he thinks you are acceptable he will tell you the
price. Make sure you can pay, otherwise you are dead.”
“In Pakistan we shoot first, then
sometimes think later.”
This police chief literally had
nothing to do all day, he kept us there for hours whilst showing us his
facebook, exchanging email addresses and continually asked pointless questions. But eventually we managed to return to the hotel (with our permit, woohoo).
Around midnight our door slightly
opened, the light turned on and the guy from the reception stood at the foot of
my bed. “Sorry did I wake you?” He had come up to get us to pay for the room,
great timing mate. The bill was far more than we had expected since the hotel
had all the wrong prices on their menu, a huge argument ensued until finally we
met halfway... seriously couldn't have been happier at that point to finally be
leaving!
The following morning the escort
was almost on time and we managed to leave Quetta at 7 AM. It was the most
stunning ride through the desert with open sandy plains and stark, jagged
mountains towering in the distance. The road had several ‘dodgy’ sections where
Jaques (a Brazilian guy we met) on the Beemer managed to lose several parts of
his motorcycle. On this section there were several moments where my heart leapt
into my throat... for instance at one stage a man covered from head to toe
wielding an AK47 stepped out from behind a bush and into the middle of our
convoy, only to begin waving enthusiastically as we passed (a friendly act that
had initially scared the crap out of me). Our escorts had told us that
terrorists only come from Israel and India and that’s why we’ll be safe here...
sure thing... That night we slept on the ground at the border police station
along with several refugees that had been caught trying to cross the border
(their final destination the continent paved with gold... Europe).
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| Adios Quetta! Early start meeting our new police escort. |
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| More books to sign, the travelers countries went something like this: Germany, Germany, Germany, Holland, Argentina, Germany, Australia, Germany... |
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| Occasionally the roads turned bad, but never as bad as I'd expected. |
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| Having a rest in the shade, very easy to get dehydrated here! |
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| Morning tea time whilst learning some of the local tongue. |
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| Mountains transitioning to desert, dreamy! |
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| Annnnnd the road slowly started to disappear, total nothingness! |
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| Sand dunes for K's and K's... about halfway to the border. |
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| Sign this book again... UGH ok... |
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| No more petrol station en-route, only smuggled fuel from Iran! |
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| After lunch we got to play around with some of the weapons, designed in the 40's and 50's! |
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| He really wanted me to take this photo, such a lad! |
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| Felt like an interview, but really they were just curious! |
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| Ol' mate hops on my bike and starts her straight up... "wohwohwoh NO don't ride it"... he just chuckled and took off. What could I do but laugh. |
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| And then there was no more road for a little bit, felt very adventurous at this point! |
The final day of escorts was a
total nightmare... including the border crossing it took a total of 15 hours to
ride a measly 350 km from the border until Bam where the military protection
stopped. Our group arrived angry, tired, hungry and generally shattered at
midnight in Akbar’s Guesthouse where we were fed our first Iranian meal... chicken
kebab. And it was glorious!
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| First helicopter since AUS! |
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| The Iranian mountains, love this landscape! |
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| The old fort in Bam, unfortunately it got destroyed in an earthquake a few years back. |
The last roughly 2000 km with
escorts went relatively smoothly and I never felt in serious danger... other
groups have not been so lucky as the freedom army and Taliban are both active
in the area. Unfortunately under 24 hours ago 2 buses were not so lucky as they
were stopped along the same route and many dead bodies have been discovered
(the story is still unraveling as I type this). This being said I feel the
media has seriously over dramatized what is happening in the region as the
locals are all dealing with it quite well and to be honest on the Iranian side
the military has it pretty well sorted! Now to explore Iran, the gem of the
middle-east!
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| It was definitely not easy, but 100 % worthwhile! |
PS: The
‘dangerous’ region I passed through was the province of Baluchistan, in this
area the Taliban was very active just a few years ago having kidnapped several
tourists. In recent times they have been less active however there is still
monthly bloodshed with occasional random attacks. As always, wrong place wrong
time can happen anywhere... whereas 95 % of the population is stoked to have
you visiting their country!
