A Three Week Journey Through Northern Pakistan
Words and photos by Archie Leeming
In the north of Pakistan lies the Karakoram mountain range, home to some of the highest and most remote peaks in the world. Against all odds, the Karakoram Highway winds its way through these rugged mountains connecting Pakistan to China at the Khunjerab pass. We set out on motorbikes from Gilgit for three weeks and headed north along the highway, exploring the off-shooting valleys and the small villages it links together.
The journey begins, and we were quickly dwarfed by the vastness of the valleys. We peeled off the highway and found a smaller road across the river to explore.
Finding our way through the terraces of Minipan, one of the many tiny villages perched on the edge of the mountains.
The Karakoram Highway winding its way through the Hunza Valley.
A large section of the highway was damaged by a 2010 landslide that created Lake Attabad. The landslide cut off both the Hunza River and Karakoram Highway, resulting in the formation of the lake.
Two years later, 24 km of bridges and tunnels were built to restore the highway between Pakistan and China.
While we were on our trip, Ramadan had recently passed and its was the festival of Eid al-Fitr that marks the end of the fasting. Thousands of men make the journey by motorbike from Pakistan’s southern cities along the highway to mark the occasion and celebrate. With most women left at home, Zoe was quite a surprise to them when she arrived on her bike.
Before the tunnels were built, boats like these used to ferry cargo and cars around impassible sections of the mountains.
The village of Misgar. Beyond here is the Mintaka pass and the original route to China before the Karakoram highway was built. China thought Mintaka would be more vulnerable to attack so decided on a route via the steeper Khunjerab Pass instead.
Heading north and deeper into the Karakoram mountains, towards the Khunjerab pass.
For centuries this route was used by caravans plodding down the Silk Road. Khunjerab means ‘valley of blood’ as local bandits used to take advantage of the terrain to slaughter merchants and plunder their wares.
From the Khunjerab border post to the petrol stations, whenever there was the chance, there was dancing.
The snow began to fall, and it was time to head back down the pass to warmer temperatures.
We stopped in Ghulkin on our way south and spent two nights with Rehman and his family. Rehman had been sent a laptop by a friend in China, though sadly between the two of us we couldn’t work out how to find the English language option!
Rehman showed us around the valley, taking us to the Passu glacier and the summer village of Zarabad via a fairly treacherous suspension bridge.
Back in Ghulkin, the main road had been turned into a volleyball court.
Along the highway, adjacent valleys run further into the mountains. The road along the Shimshal valley is a dramatic one, so we crossed the river and made our way to the small village at the end of the valley.
For 60km the road hugs the cliff edge along the narrow valley.
With the drop off only getting bigger, Zoe was not happy with my instructions to ride along the left hand side for this photo.
No escape from wet feet as we made our way through the rivers at the bottom of the valley.
We finally made it to Shimshal, the end of the road. We set up camp overlooking the village before we received a visit from the the village policeman and were told we had to stay in a guest house.
The roads were ever-changing, landslides often make it easier to re-route roads rather than rebuild them.
More bikers from the south making their way along the highway. The small 125cc bikes, loaded up with two men and their gear, being pushed to their limits as they pootle up the hills.
On the way back south we took the main highway all the way, which gave us a chance to see all the villages and dirt roads on the opposite side of the valley that we had taken north.
After a week up the Karakoram highway, we made it back to Gilgit to start the journey east to Skardu.
Despite having broken down, there was only cheeriness from these two.
Along the valley, wooden suspension bridges give access to life across the river. Some bridges are in better shape than others.
Old Toyota FJ45s that refuse to give up, work as the mountain taxis.
The strongman of the village Machlu shows me his olympic lift with his homemade barbell. Next it was my turn…
“Welcome to the land of the mighty K2” - The Shigar valley is the gateway to some of the world’s highest peaks, including K2.
Starting the climb towards the Deosai plains, the second highest plateau in the world.
For centuries, it was believed that the Deosai (‘Deo’ meaing giant, and ‘sai’ meaning shadow) plains were haunted by giants, hence the name ‘The Land of the Giants’.
Over the other side of the plateau, we descended into Astore valley.
Another check point, and our name and passport details enter a book to never be read again.
Hand painted and covered in decorations that jingle as they slowly pass over the rocky roads, before smothering you in a plume of black smoke.
Summoned into a checkpoint building to have our photos taken and a friendly interrogation as to whether we were enjoying our time in Pakistan.
Before heading back to Islamabad, we hopped in a Jeep for the ominous journey to Fairy Meadows, a grassland at the foot of Nanga Parbat, the 9th highest mountain in the world.
This was probably one of the scariest hours of our lives. The driver didn’t seem to be fazed by any of it. The road is single track with only a few passing places, so meeting a car along the road is interesting. Usually a stand-off occurs, before one of the two drivers gives in and confidently reverses.
We hiked to Bayal camp and pitched our tents as the sun was setting. Our last night in the mountains before heading back to Islamabad.
