Pakistan “Travel Leaves You Speechless, then Turns You Into a Story Teller”

• November 11, 2020
• By Daryl
• 4 Comments

When driving in Pakistan, one’s eyes must be fully open. If the road is congested on one side, a maverick may chance his martyrdom. One did this morning, by driving on the wrong side of the road, parting traffic and testing nerves. 

A boy with his stick and a tire are rolling down the street. Steam was billowing out of kitchens and black smoke followed during the big lorries. Piles of trash were smoldering on driveways. Fine rock dust from the many rock crushing plants in the hills, settle in town. The tires throwing it all back up again.  So many reasons for the constant grey skies. 

Khan chairlift comes into view and we stopped for a cable car ride across a vast canyon. The people on the other side had to walk a long way to get to market street, in the past. The old bridge went out so a man made the cable car as a business. 

Men were mixing concrete on the road. One man shoveled the mix into a small woven basket. Another man handed it to the next man, and then so on, to get it up the hill. We wind up the canyon climbing as we go. Small food stalls line the road with eyes that follow us. 

The road was steep and the cars are small, and they strain going up, never getting past second gear. Sometimes I had to get out so the car could make it up steep areas. One time, the car had to back up without me in it, to pick up enough speed to make the climb. Lorries grind up the climb, slowly under the steep grade. The road is wide enough to pass. 

One food stand, with lots of smoke coming out, had a van full of people stopping for tea. Springs along the road make for a car wash with many vans and cars taking advantage of the flowing water. As we climb, the evergreens mix with the deciduous trees who’s leaves are changing colors. The forest is healthy with a variety of species. Macaques stand guard along the road, looking for handouts. Historic British buildings fill the hill top. The air taste good but is grey, except for the pastel blue north sky. 

We come to a plateau at the top with horsemen waiting to give rides. Bunny jumped on a horse for a short ride. The horses were beautiful, a white breed, left overs from British stock. After she returned, we viewed a Protestant church from British rule, built in 1914. A trip to see the old Governor’s house was in order. Guarded by military, we can only view from a distance. Dignitaries of importance stay there. Turkey’s President; Erdogan has stayed there. 

We drive further along the ridge to a National Park and hike through the trees. The call to prayer can be heard drifting up the canyons. The smell of pine, fill our senses. A man with sap stained hands, walks a load of pine branches down the trail. A young couple, ride horses up the hill. I wished it was me. 

Back in the car, we started on our way, again. Heading down the mountain we noticed groups of black plastic pipes which lead to a dammed-up crevasse, suppling spring water. We made a turn into a village and kids are everywhere, schools out.

We end up at the top of another mountain at around 8200 feet above sea level. We walked through an old water tunnel, the British had built. Blasted rock and arched brick, had me watching my head in the tunnel. A sky tram ends our day with nice views and a chill was in the wind. The call to prayer serenaded us, as we drove  back down the mountain.