Famo Adventure Motorcycling Guide

Peshawar to Dir and the Lowari Pass

Okay, so I guess you’re supposed to fill your blog with pictures of people riding off into the distance, chasing a setting sun, sweeping through a river of fog, being chased by elephants or langurs or whatever nestles in the jungles of the parts of the world you’re cruisin’ through. My wildlife contact has been quite limited, and not really up for a chase, mainly yaks and goats. I have a new respect for goats and how they, and what they (or who they) choose to stand on. Yaks be nimble and yaks be quick, two new animal facts that I can slickly represent in a nursery rhyme form…

Pakistan!! below is Billy, chasing the sunset.

We left Peshawar in search of backroads quietest and chose a path through the Lowari pass, a mountainous traverse that would take us up to Chitral, and Sor-Laspur, the jumping off point for the highest polo ground in the world: Shandur top!!

We spoke to many (and when I say many, I mean probably 20 or so) people about the state of the Lowari pass and Shandur top. You see, these passes are both about 3500m high (the tallest mountain in Australia is 2100m) and at the time of year we were there (early May) it wasn’t a certainty that the roads would be completely clear of snow and ice. We kept our ear to the ground in Peshawar and Dir, and asked at every opportunity whether we’d make it through. The answers were disconcertingly bipolar, with policemen and civillians both giving us whatever answers popped into their head. Descriptions containing “certain death” were mixed with phrases such as “what are you worried about, you’re on a bike”, leaving us with enough confusion to decide to give it a go: about a 50/50 chance that the roads would be open. We’d just have to be prepared to turn around if the going got too tough.

The first town after Peshawar was Dir, and we stayed one night to rest for the next-day attack. Billy and I discovered a pocketknife-manufacturing cottage-industry (yes, a couple of steps down from the assault rifle cottage-industry described in the last post), and ended up going out to the shops four or five times to buy just “one more” knife because they were so great for souvenirs.

Refuelling before heading up the Lowari pass

Just a quiet note on mountain passes in remote, developing parts of the world. The towns on the higher side of the pass are only accessible by vehicle after the snow melts, so they often don’t get food or supplies (other than what they produce themselves) for a large chunk of the year. The roads regularly become covered in snow and ice, and when the snow melts, the roads are often covered by fast-flowing rivers of ice-cold water. The first few weeks after the passes open, the roads are jam packed with traffic i.e. huge trucks carrying provisions like flour, cows, and Kinder Suprise. The roads are often destroyed by the ice, and landslides carry trees, power lines, trucks, cars and motorcycles into whatever parts of the world people never care to venture. It’s all very dangerous and exciting stuff.

The first day was the Lowari pass, 3118m high, a single road from Dir to Chitral winding it’s dirt way through kilometre upon kilometre of hair-raising terrain.

Billy and I Waiting for Traffic (photo by Trish)

The traffic was horrendous, all these trucks are taking food and supplies to the Chitralis, who have been eating snow for months. It wasn’t uncommon to be stuck behind a truck for half an hour, breathing diesel fumes and making dangerous attempts at overtaking on the cliff side of the hill. In all fairness the trucks were usually friendly enough to wave us by in a clear spot, but we’d just fly past and encounter another truck in half a kilometer.

Having a stab at the river crossing. The helmet was removed to maximise visibility of the riverbed. You have to walk through the crossing first, to discover the shallowest path, then ride carefully through, paddling the bike with your feet down on either side. This first crossing was the hardest because the shallowest path was made from a narrow bridge of concrete, about 1 foot under. On either side of the bridge there were drops of about two feet, enough to tip the bike over and cause big engine problems (water sucked in through the exhaust pipe, freezing temperatures cracking the engine casings etc.) We all got through okay, Billy first, then me, then Billy on Trish’s bike.

Problems…

This river crossing was a bit more difficult because it descends and goes around a corner. Billy is chasing Trish, who unfortunately dropped the bike as she was approaching the water’s edge. There was no damage to the bike, and the actual crossing went without a hitch.

I photographed these two men at a traffic jam caused by a road accident in which there was one fatality. The guy was carried through on a bed and placed into a van heading back down the hill to Dir. Many people were crying and one man removed his hat when the bed passed. Not good for the nerves.

The traffic conditions at the road blockages were pretty crazy, the trucks tended to push forward and fill up both lanes in both directions, so it took hours to clear the bottleneck. Often a jeep carrying passengers would come up behind us and beep the horn until we moved ahead into the tiniest little gap. We came to a traffic jam after riding over the pass and discovered a truck had snapped it’s front axle into two pieces while trying to steer around a hairpin corner. The truck was filling the corner completely and there was no possible way to squeeze through. Billy and I grabbed some shovels and picks and started digging a new road through the corner and some men jumped in to help. There were lots of people standing around staring and lots of people giving orders, but the little team we had going managed to build a new road in about half an hour and we were granted the honour of first ones through.

We finally descended out of the pass, not actually having experienced or seen much apart from some snow and trucks. We rode into Chitral and met the police superintendent, who welcomed us and asked us if we needed any help with anything. We said that we were interested to know whether or not the Shandur pass was open, and if we rode north, could we make it to Gilgit. He told us that the pass was closed… but might be open in a couple of days, something about a pass-clearing bulldozer waiting to be fixed. We stayed a couple more nights in Chitral and asked a few more people. Some foreign tourists had walked over the pass and were telling stories of 2m deep snow on the roads, not a good sign. In the end we decided that the disappointment of coming this far without giving it a go would be too hard to bear, so we decided to go for it. Besides, the thought of riding back over the Lowari pass brought us all out in a big, red rash.

Sor Laspur and Shandur Top

The road from Chitral to the Shandur pass was completely clear of traffic, probably due to the ominous sign that was the broken-down bulldozer we passed as we left the village. We had the most beautiful, empty, peaceful ride and started to really feel like we were on the right way to conquering the pass. We asked at a few small villages if Shandur top was accessible, and were once again given no idea as to the true condition of the roads.

Seriously mad scenery

We bought fuel at a junction to the large town just before the final jump off point and then headed into Sor Laspur, the tiny village at the foot of the pass.

Sor Laspur Main Street

Kiddies in Sor Laspur gawking at Billy’s BMW

The first action Billy and I took when we arrived was ride to ride up the pass and actually look and see how bad the roads actually were. It was only 23km to Shandur top, with plenty of daylight remaining. We headed up through about 5km of minor pebbleslides until we arrived at the first blockage. We’d heard rumours of two avalanches that had blocked the road, and the one we were looking at was reportedly the worst. What we came across was a true-blue avalanche, crossing the road in two spots, with each section covering between 10 and 20 metres of the road. Not too bad. Billy and I pushed Trish’s bike across both sections, which proved very tough and dangerous. Trying to control a motorcycle on ice is difficult, even if only pushing the machine, so we agreed some digging would be needed to make the slides flat enough to get Billy’s BMW and my Kawasaki across. The estimate was that it would take about an hour for us to dig out 30m of snow….

To be absolutely certain that we’d found the worst patch, Billy rode Trish’s bike the rest of the way up to Shandur top and reported that our first avalanche was indeed the worst and once we were through, we could make it all the way up. On the way back, we found a little injured lamb and Billy slung it over the bike and we took it back down to the village, who were very happy to have it back in time for dinner preparations… joking!

When we arrived back, and had delivered the lamb to it’s rightful owner, Trish told us that while we’d been away, the Sor Laspur social committee had decided to hold a meeting to decide whether or not they would head up to the landslide the next day and help us dig out the pass. We were chuffed and not a little bit honoured that the town elders were deliberating over our needs.

The next day we woke at about 7:30am and realised a team from the town were already up there and digging. Billy, Trish and I decided we’d stay another night and help out as best we could to get the pass open, so we rode up and grabbed some shovels (to the amusement of the townsfolk, who could actually use shovels).

Phew!

This 4WD came through from the other side while we were digging. We pushed it through and it was the first vehicle of the year over the pass from Gilgit side to Sor Laspur. We took heart at this and kept digging, hoping we’d be the first bikes through.

Sor Laspur Social Committee and Pass Digging Team

We made it through, on the bikes, after 8 hours of work. Billy and my estimate was somewhat off, thinking we could do it with three people in one hour, in the end we had half the town and a support team (one man making chai tea all day while we were digging!!!)

Looking back towards Sor Laspur

Pakistan is so amazingly picturesque.

Shandur Top

The top of the Shandur pass is flat and approximately 10km across, consisting of a lake, a (mud) shop selling chai tea… and a polo ground with stadium seating and a huge campsite for the thousands of Pakistanis that come from either side of the pass every year in July to experience the tournament between Chitral and Gilgit. The game is huge in the northern areas (bigger than cricket) and all the talk is about their favourite polo stars and who will win in the coming tournament. The lake was half covered in ice and the buildings were deserted, but the views were amazing and it felt like it would be an absolutely amazing place to be during summer.

Huttage at the top of the pass

The Road to Gilgit

We headed on to Gilgit, about 100km from the Shandur top, and met some Pakistani men fishing for trout in the river. They told us that many years before, when the English were occupying the country, they filled the Shandur lake with trout and now it offers some of the best fishing in the area.

Trout fishing in Pakistan

We came across another landslide about 2m high across the road. Luckily there was a bog on one side instead of a cliff, so we could push the bikes through and onto Gilgit.

A seemingly dosile Northern Pakistan Yak

The river carving out an avalanche

Cheeky kids on the road to Gilgit

Crazy looking hut on the road form Shandur Pass to Gilgit

Gilgit to Kunjerab Top and the Chinese Border

Gilgit was a great little spot to stay and ready ourselves for the trip up to the Chinese border. It also gave us excellent access to Skardu, which was quite a log and twisting 250km ride due east from Gilgit over unsealed roads, and unfortunately when we arrived, we were told that we’d never make it across the Doesai plains due to three deep river crossings. We had planned to ride due north anyway, to hit the Chinese border for a look, and conquer the last but definitely not least of the hunge mountain passes: Kunjerab (4300m).

The bikes parked just before Pasu, heading towards Kunjerab

The ride up to Sost in the upper Hunza valley took us to the jumping off point for our trip to the Chinese border. We rode for a full day and passed some incredible scenery around the town of Pasu. Massive cliffs and valleys carved out by millions of years of snowmelt were striking, and the town welcomed us with a huge stone message. We carried on to Sost in the Upper Hunza Valley, Billy bought some cheap Chinese imitation Columbia shoes at one of the little stalls in the town. We we were getting close to China because of all the trinkety crap you could buy in Sost.

Billy befriending some local goats heading to China

The trip to the border was approximately 27km through National Park land. We didn’t have to leave our passports at the immigration shelter near the boom gate leaving Sost, but we did need to check in and leave our details. Maybe it was because at that time of year we were the only tourists who would be going up and coming back, so it wasn’t a big problem for us to take our passports without being stamped out of the country.

The only traffic we passed on the way up to the border was a utility carrying some goats and about three Chinese tourist busses. The overwhelming feeling of desertion on the Korakoram Highway made us wonder whether we were in the off season, or maybe that the trade across this once-grand highway was in decline. From the reports of Danny and Adam, two English overlanders we met in Chiang Mai, the highway was packed the year before so I think it was a seasonal issue.

The park rangers

We entered Kunjerab National Park and payed the rangers the official price of about $6 each. They were incredibly jovial, I think because it was their first meeting with foreigners since winter had let up. They cooked us Chai tea, as is the custom over all of Pakistan when you have a guest or traveller in your home. Billy made a promise to bring the guys back some wine when they returned in three months time.

An inquisitive Yak

Riding a motorcycle up to the top of the world is indescribable, every corner is a gasp and I spent as much time standing up and looking behind me as I did looking in front, not a lot of time was spent with my eyes on the road. It was difficult to comprehend the vastness and beauty of everything I looked at.

Kunjerab in the background

Signs in English, Chinese and Russian

Messing about on top of the pass

We spent an hour up on the top of the pass, but the weather started to look like it was turning sour, so we decided it would be best to head back to Sost. Besides, it was bloody freezing and because of the altitude, we couldn’t do much more than walk around, and when we tried to have a snowball fight Billy and I almost fainted.

We passed Sost and stayed just north of Pasu, at a tiny hostel that cost me next to nothing (70 rupees so about $1). The next day we did some trekking to a couple of rope bridges, and met some of the local Pasu townsfolk.

5 star accommodation – check out the huge cliff behind the hotel!

An old, ramshackle suspension bridge in Pasu

Some village girls in Pasu

We all headed back to Gilgit and I prepared to ride south. This was the moment that I was to split up with Billy and Trish, and it was really sad. They’d been my traveling companions for about three months, so it was like losing some of my family. We said a teary goodbye and I rode off back down the Korakoram Highway to Islamabad to begin the next stage of my journey… Southern Pakistan and Iran!!!