Travelogue Pakistan 2007

Day 1, Aug 6, 2007 Pindi-Gultari : Up at 5:30 am and caught a cab to the airport. A military guy was waiting for me with the ticket. The check-in went smoothly which was a big relief because I had a lot of excess baggage. The plane was a Chinese-built ATR which was a replacement for the antiquated Fokker prop planes that were retired after a crash a couple of years ago. The flight was a little delayed but it did take off despite earlier ominous announcements about bad weather. The flight was spectacular, the right side of the plane offers the best views but unfortunately I was sitting on the left side. Once we entered the Kaghan valley the guy across the aisle noticed me craning over to catch a view and offered to switch seats. I gratefully accepted, and spent the rest of the 55 minute flight glued to the window soaking in the sights of lush Kaghan mountains followed by jagged glacier-covered peaks. The highlight was the looming bulk of Nanga Parbat. The plane was flying at 17000 ft and it was weird to see the mountain soaring another 10000 ft above us. After landing at Gilgit airport I was whisked away to the bus stand by minions from Omairs unit and put on the van to Astor. They arranged for me to sit up front so I had plenty of room to sit and see the passing scenery. We drove through stark scenery of barren rugged mountains with large talus fans. Occasional views of the lofty peaks like Rakaposhi. Also loose mud cliffs with big rocks embedded in them at crazy angles, deposited over the millennia by the glacial silt-choked rivers. After crossing over the suspension bridge near Jaglot we entered the Astor river valley. All the rivers in this area are raging torrents of muddy churning waters which bash themselves against boulders with an almost palpable fury. The road was carved on the precarious hillside several hundred feet above the raging river and showed ample evidence of rock slides and rock fall. At places it almost seemed to hug a semi-tunnel hacked out of rocky cliffs. Astor turned out to be a small one-horse town with a large military presence. The van decanted me at the barracks where I was received by yet another soldier. The plan was to stay in the officer mess in Astor unless I could get a ride to Chillum or Gultari. I had a bite to eat in the small bazaar while I waited for the situation to become clear. Fortunately there were several private jeeps ferrying some soldiers to Gultari. I was able to snag another front seat (benefits of being a guest of an officer). The scenery improved dramatically as we moved away from Astor. The muddy river was replaced by a large clear stream that was lined with large pine trees. Small villages and towns appeared at regular intervals. We made a couple of stops for tea here and there. I felt a little worried about altitude since I had been at sea level only 2 days ago and now I was going to go over the 14000 ft Burzil Pass shortly. We passed numerous military checkpoints along the way. After Chillum there were no more villages, just the occasional Gujar nomad tents. These people graze their sheep and goats in the lush green pastures. Idyllic surroundings with clear streams and impressive mountains all around, no trees in sight though. The road was paved and in pretty decent condition but the dilapidated jeep seemed incapable of doing more than 20 mph. I had started from 100 degree heat and humidity in Pindi but had to dig out the fleece before we crossed the pass. The road forked after Burzil Pass, one fork going towards Minimarg and the other to Gultari. Fat golden marmots with black marks on their backs gamboled along the road and stood guard over their burrows. It started getting dark soon after we descended from the pass, the driver tried to get the headlights going but they flickered briefly then went out. The only electrical accessory that seemed in working order was the cassette player which had been belting out Indian songs throughout our journey. The road turned to dirt somewhere near dumba-bao , the driver kept driving in the dark – insisting that he could just see fine. Finally, once it got pitch dark, he was forced to stop at a checkpoint and spent quite sometime fiddling with the fuses. Finally he was able to get the lights going by doing some MacGyver-like improvisation with a piece of gold foil from his cigarette pack. We lurched along on the increasingly rutted and muddy road with the jeep spinning its wheels occasionally. The driver seemed quite unhappy and backtracked frequently to avoid exceptionally muddy sections. I was finally decanted at army mess in Gultari around 9 pm. The place was a pretty depressing and dismal place with very few amenities. It reminded me of a dank crypt. Nevertheless I was welcomed and invited to stay in one of the better rooms. I was definitely feeling the change in altitude as I moved around at 11000+ ft. The resident doctor came by and checked my blood pressure etc. It was elevated but not dangerously high. After dinner and a brief telephone chat with my brother I crashed.

Day 2- Aug 7 Exploring Gultari: Up early around 8 am. I wandered out and surveyed the surroundings a little bit. The place was a Spartan military outpost with a very utilitarian feel. It was located well away from the village of Gultari to avoid harming civilians in the cross-fire. A sizable stream was flowing in the valley and impressive snow-clad peaks surrounded the area. This area was the epicenter of a very dangerous skirmish between India and Pakistan in 1999. After some breakfast I sat and killed some time in the TV room but finally succumbed to travel-fatigue and slept some more. Around noon I was woken by my brother who had come down from his forward post. We spent a couple of hours catching up before deciding to head out for a little walk. It was then that I learnt that venturing out here was fairly perilous activity. The Indians had shelled this area with cluster bomblets which looked like toys (pens, bells etc.). There main purpose is to kill and maim civilians and children who are attracted by the shiny little toy lying on the ground. We headed down to the river and crossed it on a rickety bridge, then we headed up the valley of a side-stream. There was a low and high water trail , we chose to stay close to the stream. The variety of flowers here was quite nice and I saw at least 50 different varieties in the brief 2 hour walk. All of them were unfamiliar to me from my hikes elsewhere in the world. Finally the trail petered out and we hiked cross-country for a while before coming to a dead-end where the stream passed through a narrow area. It had started to drizzle a little bit as well. Numerous large mountains beckoned invitingly in the distance. One could easily spend a week or two here exploring the area and climbing some of these unclimbed hills and mountains. On the way back we managed to get on the upper trail and then had to hike x-country across an open hill to get down to the road. We had skipped lunch for this afternoon jaunt and were pretty hungry by the time we got back to the mess. Fortunately there was a big feast prepared that night as well as an award ceremony. Omair played cards with his friends late into the night but I hit the sack soon after the sumptuous dinner.

Day 3 Aug 8 Gultari-Astor: Up fairly early. Packed and got ready to leave for Astor on the first jeep. It was a nice sunny day and the first time I got a good look at the surrounding mountains. Gultari is a very scenic area which easily rivals Deosai plains in terms of flowers and beauty. I left it with a pang of regret at not having explored it fully. We trundled along on the bumpy road, self snapping pictures whenever we stopped for any reason. We took a tea break at DumbaBao where army has a large encampment. Troops acclamatize here before moving higher. I observed soldiers practicing crevasse crossing using ropes and pulleys.

The scenery was superb, lush mountains, broad passes and clear streams. The whole area should be a national park as far as I am concerned. We soon crossed back over Burzil Pass and rapidly made our way down to Chillum where the jeep dropped us off at the transit camp. We had breakfast and washed up a little bit here before continuing on to Astor. Omair showed me all the heavy-duty snow plows and other equipment used to transport troops and equipment in heavy winter snows. He also secured som e petrol for my backpacking stove. The next jeep took us to Astor where Omair and I were dropped off at the Officers mess. This mess was located away from the city in a commanding location overlooking the town and the Astor river valley. I really liked this mess and the helpful staff. The cooked immediately whisked up some spicy French fries/pakora thing for us. The balcony outside our room overlooked the whole town and received cool breezes coming down the nala that provided hydel-power to the town. We pretty much chilled out in the mess for the rest of the day since we had missed the bus to Tarashing. I finalized my packing and also went to town to buy some biscuits and other last minute items. Dinner was at the mess (chicken karahi) with a couple of other officers. The town presented a desolate appearance once the sun went down. I twisted my foot going down to the shops in the pitch dark, not a good omen for the trek.

Day 4 Aug 9: Astor to Tarashing, trek begins

We were up fairly early and had breakfast. We walked down the shortcut path to the main bazaar to ensure that we would get seats on the 1:30 jeep to Tarashing. It rolled around at 2 and we took our seats in the back. We had taken the precaution of securing 3 seats for 2 people so we could sit in reasonable comfort. However in typical Pakistani fashion the driver kept cramming more people and goods into the jeep. We had to fend off a couple of intruders who wanted to squeeze into the miniscule space left. There were guys hanging from the back, precariously balancing themselves on the spare tire and utilizing every conceivable handhold. The 2 hour ride to Tarshing was not as bumpy as I had feared. We struck up a conversation with some of our fellow travelers, one of whom expressed some interest in portering for us. Most of the young chaps seemed pretty well-educated for such a remote area, I was expecting them to be mostly illiterate. The jeep dropped us off at one of the two hotels in town. A bunch of onlookers and the local policeman gathered around us. Apparently the local porter wage was 290 Rs. / stage and loads were carried on donkeys. The policeman was anxious to find someone for us, but the guy from the jeep (Tariq, 12^th grade education) rolled around with his ruddy-faced cousin (Safiullah) and agreed to porter for us at Rs 280/stage. Even though there were two of them, we would only pay one porter’s wage and they would take turns carrying my REI duffle bag. This bag would take a lot of abuse over the next two weeks. It safely carried most of my camping gear all over the northern areas on jeeps, buses and porters backs. We were anxious to get underway so we decided to go with them. The hotel guy was very nice and gave us free tea in the hopes that we would stay with him on the way back. We sorted out our loads in the leafy courtyard of the hotel and were underway in 45 minutes. We wound our way through the unpaved streets and soon started climbing up the moraine of Tarshing Glacier. The porters and Omair were much faster than me and this established a pattern that would continue throughout the trek. They would hike for a while then wait for me to catch up with them. I should mention that the views of Chongra Peaks were superb from the village as well as from the top of the moraine and I took plenty of photographs. The scenery was classic Himalayas with massive peaks festooned with countless glaciers. Tarashing Gl. was covered with debris and relatively stable but there were several large white-ice glaciers cascading down the flanks of the Chongra Peaks and flowing into it. We were soon on the glacier, following the trail of donkey shit and the occasional cairn. The crossing went fairly quickly and we soon crossed the moraine on the other side and entered another village called Rupal. The lush green fields provided a calming counterpoint to the rugged and stark mountain scenery looming over it. The trail was a wide dirt road that could easily carry jeep traffic. Indeed, the porters told us that a bridge across Tarashing Glacier’s outwash stream was in the works and would soon result in the road going all the way to Herligkoffer Base Camp. We stopped briefly for Maghrib prayers where we discovered that there is a bit of a Sunni-Shia rivalry in this area. The villagers in Tarshing are Shia and the policeman probably wanted to get a local Shia to porter for us. The guys we did get were Sunni which made Omair happy since he could pray with them. The village even had a rustic mosque with a small minaret made from wood. We slowly progressed through this well-populated village which even had a small general store. The porters bought some biscuits here while I stood and watch some kids play Carom Board. On we went, uphill through a second village which was eerily deserted. Apparently most of the villagers were up in summer pastures tending their flocks or cutting wood for the winter. By around 7 pm it got pretty dark and it was clear that we would not make it to Herligkoffer BC this evening. The porters suggested that we camp on the roof of a vacant hut, and that they would spend the night at a relative’s house in the village. I wasn’t very happy about this location since the only water was from a silty irrigation ditch, but there wasn’t any other viable option left at this point. I agreed and quickly pitched the tent and started dinner while the porters bid us farewell after filling my water bag. This was Omair’s first “real” camping experience since even on military exercises they have the luxury of servants putting up their tent / bedding and preparing food. I cooked up some Lipton rice and tuna and we sat on the roof and ate it as we looked up at the spectacular starry sky. The clouds that had hovered around in the afternoon disappeared at night leaving an unimpeded view of the heavens. Despite the fact that we were camping in the village, there wasn’t any sign of humanity except for one mysterious guy who was puttering around in the far distance with a flashlight. We were a little worried about theft so I rounded up all our belongings and stashed them in the tent vestibules for the night.

Day 5, Aug 10 Rupal village to Shaigiri: We were up at a very early hour. The porters showed up around 6 am and woke us up. It was a beautiful cloudless morning and the we could see a little bit of the Nanga Parbat/Raikot massif poking above the hills that ran next to the village. Across the valley was a relatively small peak with a glacier on its summit. The porters referred to it as Shokor (Sho=white, Kor=mountain in Shina). I quickly prepared breakfast and packed up the tent and we were on our way by 8 am. The porters and Omair raced ahead and then waited for me periodically. It was quite hot despite our being at 11000 ft and I was glad of the early morning start. Gradually we left traces of civilization behind as we ascended a valley lined with junipers. A silty stream flowed through the valley. It was hot going and I took frequent breaks in the shade and drank lots of water. The trail seemed pretty well-used but the tread was quite rocky. I ran into several donkey trains. Most of the donkeys were heavily loaded with wood. They would stop when they saw me and would only move once I climbed off the trail and out of their way. One had to give them a wide berth to avoid being grazed roughly by their load of wood. After about an hour or so we came to a nice meadow with a clear stream that had pooled up to form a lake. I wanted to get some water from it but was turned off when I saw the thousands of small frogs that scattered in the grass with every step. The porters assured me that there was a relatively frog-free spring just up the trail so I decided to hold off on water till we got there. Nanga Parbat was gradually revealing itself above the juniper-dotted cliffs as we had progressed along the trail. The almost vertical Rupal face and its glacier-covered flanks were becoming more impressive by the minute. Raikot Peak also towered above us but some of its thunder was stolen by the larger bulk of NP. I filtered some water from the spring and then continued on to Herligkoffer Base Camp. This was a large meadow with lots of evidence of camping, porters shelters etc. Bazhin Glacier’s large moraine towered above the meadow. The porters and Omair were resting in the shade of a gigantic glacier erratic boulder, by a pretty stream. I was a little saddened to see plastic bags and food wrappers littering the stream. We took a little snack break here and I took lots of pictures and video. Wisps of clouds were already forming
on the Rupal face and I wanted to make the most of it before clouds put a damper on photography. This place would have made for nice camping but it was too early in the day to stop. It had taken me about two hours to get here from the Rupal village. We decided that we should push ahead to Shaigiri. Omair managed to convince one of the porters (Safi-ullah) to carry his backpack across the glacier. The climb up Bazhin’s moraine was fairly strenuous but the view from its top was spectacular with the entire bulk of Nanga Parbat exposed for the first time. It was an almost overwhelming site with so many glaciers clinging to so many improbable faces that it almost numbed the senses. The Bazhin Glacier was a very impressive affair and made Tarashing Gl. look puny by comparison. Several large glaciers were forming a large col and then pushing out in the form of Bazhin. The trail across this was not as well-defined so I asked Tariq the porter to stick close by and not race ahead as he had been doing on the trail. We took a meandering up and down path across the glacier. This trail was also used by herders and we ran into some donkeys on the glacier. They were clearly ill-at-ease and the drivers had to use a lot of verbal coaxing to keep them going on the treacherously wobbly rocks. This glacier crossing took a long time and took us past several exposed patches of ice. Frequent rock-fall echoed across the glacier. Once we reached the opposite moraine the porter raced ahead as usual. By this point the heat and exertion, as well as altitude, had definitely taken a toll on me and I slowed down considerably. I slowly wound my way up the dusty moraine and then down the other side. The view from the top revealed an impressing bevy of peaks with all their glaciers flowing into a much larger glacier called Rupal/Toshain Glacier. The narrow trail hugged a hillside and gradually descended towards a vast pasture with a sizable clear stream flowing through it. This area was being heavily utilized for grazing cows, horses and dzos (cow/yak hybrids). I could see the rest of the group lounging in the meadow with a bunch of herders. I made my way down to them and collapsed for a little rest. The settings were superb with the vast Tupp Meadows nestled between the moraines of Tupp Gl. and Bazhin Glacier. I borrowed a cigarette from Omair, more to increase my break duration than from any genuine desire to smoke. The herders and indeed most people on the trail were very impressed on hearing my brother’s army connection. A lot of people from this area have some army connection since it’s a good source of jobs for the local populace. I spent a good half hour resting in this meadow with my boots off. My feet were definitely hurting by this point. Finally I had to put them back on and get going. The whole meadow looked flat from a distance but was in fact covered with curious 1-2 ft tall mounds which made walking quite difficult. We followed a narrow trail out of this maze of mounds and came close to the muddy river flowing out of Rupal Glacier. The trail squeezed between the terminal moraine of Tupp Glacier and the river. I was tempted to climb up the terminal moraine to get a good view but was too exhausted by now to expend any extra energy. I was feeling pretty much done but Shaigiri was nowhere in sight. I took a little snack break in the shade and ate an energy bar. The chocolate was totally melted so I checked the temperature with my watch. It was 95 in the shade, no wonder I was feeling filleted. I soon fetched up in another meadow-like area with a clear welcoming stream. Omair was waiting for me in the shade of some willow trees. The porters had gone up to the summer settlement where there fellow villagers were ensconced. I stripped down to shorts and liberally doused myself with the cold water from the stream. Once I had done this, I sat under the shady trees and let the cool breezes waft over me. The setting was magnificent so I dug out the binoculars and spent some time gazing at NP and the other peaks visible across the river (Rupal, Shaigiri and Toshain). These peaks were quite impressive in their own right but somewhat paled in comparison to NP. After a little while a small procession approached us from the village. It consisted of our porters as well as 3-4 kids. They generously offered us some chapattis and lassi. The lassi was nice enough but had strange yellow lumps (butter fat?) floating in it. I managed to down a little bit of the chapatti after smearing some almond butter on it. One of the kids (very cute but shy) in this group had six fingers and was pointed out as being specially blessed. I was initially toying with the idea of camping right there in the meadow but the porters assured us that Shaigiri was no more than an hour away. We packed up and started off across a rocky old river bed. The heat was still pretty brutal and shade was pretty limited because of the sparse trees in this rocky expanse. The trail paralleled the river for a while before climbing up on a small plateau. From the riverbank I could see a large foreign (supposedly Italian) expedition camped across the river in a village. Soon I could see the giant glacial erratic called Sahigiri (white stone) next to the morine of Shaigiri Glacier. There were ample camping opportunities here but the water was silty. The porters assured us that there was a much nicer campsite with clear water five minutes away. We straggled along for five minutes and found that they were indeed correct. This campsite was in a small valley filled with willow trees. There was a large silty stream running through it but there was a clear spring right next to the camp area. Somebody had even fashioned a spout from an old plastic coke bottle to channel the spring water. I was going to pitch the tent in an open spot but Omair suggested a shady alternative under the willow trees and I acquiesced. A couple of shepherd boys from the village across the river watched us setting up camp. They soon sidled up and the younger one started a conversation while the shy older one was content to sit and stare. Omair apparently was more hooked on tea than I realized and was having serious caffeine withdrawal. He managed to coax the young kid to bring him some tea for money and see if we could buy some eggs as well. I took some time to thoroughly wash up in the muddy stream when the kids buzzed off. The kids returned with tea leaves shortly, eggs were available at a steep Rs. 60 / egg. I declined to buy any at these prices. Dinner was the usual Lipton or Hamburger Helper and tuna. I was exhausted from the long day and hit the sack soon after dinner.

Day 6, Aug 11, Shaigiri to Mazeno Base Camp:

I had instructed the porters not to show up before 10 am since I was sick and tired of these guys lounging around and urging us to get an early morning start. I got up around 8ish. The first thing I noticed was a little bit of a water reflection towards the feet side of the tent. I thought that was odd since there were no streams on that side. Quickly the realization dawned that some new streams had started flowing overnight and were potentially coursing under the tent. I stumbled out of the tent and realized that my suspicions were indeed correct. Both our packs as well as half the tent floor was wet. Thankfully the sleeping bags escaped a drenching since they were insulated by foam sleeping pad. I roused Omair from slumber and moved all our gear to dry land. The sun was out and visibility was great. I immediately started snapping away, knowing full well that clouds would soon rear their ugly head. Omair started some tea while I wandered up towards the moraine to get a better vantage point for photography. There was a moraine right next to me which looked tempting and deceptively easy to climb, but I had to again curb my enthusiasm in the interests of getting ready and also conserving my dwindling stamina. After cooking some very plain tasting hamburger helper, we packed up and got ready to set off. Omair had agreed to pay an extra porter’s wage for this stage and have his stuff carried on the donkey. Tariq, the guy who was on the jeep had decided to take a powder. I was secretly glad because I didn’t like the guy at all, he was too cheeky and cavalier about letting us cross glaciers unguided. In his place was a young lad from the village named Imran. Safiullah would be the lead guy with the donkey. As we packed up the mute shepherd kid from last evening showed up and sat nearby. He was either extremely shy or had some speech impediment because he just sat there, pretending to watch his flock but instead watching us with rapt interest. This was a very nice campsite but showed signs of being trashed by trekkers as evidenced from trash and lots of shit and toilet paper littering the area in the back. Also just about every square inch of the place had some sort of goat or donkey shit covering it. We climbed out of the alley and picked up the trail along the base of the Shaigiri Glacier, the same area I had been exploring in the morning. The trail followed an obvious trajectory towards the ablation valley and moraine of the gigantic Toshain/Rupal Glacier. The trail had been pretty rocky right from the start and my ankles were comlaining bitterly by now. I has twisted both on various occasions and was now compelled to use the ankle brace. Today Omair stuck close to me instead of hanging out with the porters. We gradually worked our way past a deep gully and several large alluvial fans. Streams gushed forth from glaciers above these fans and coursed down to join a raging torrent that ran along the ablation valley next to Rupal Glacier’s true left moraine. For the first time in several days we had managed to leave all traces of human settlement behind. There was still the occasional shepherd with his flock of sheep but no more stone huts or animal pens. The bulk of NP was concealed behind the moraines and lower cliffs but you could still see large chunks of it through the clouds and through the gaps in the cliffs. Again the views would have been stupendous from the top of these alluvial fans because there were surely massive glaciers lurking behind them. However there was not much time for side trips, given the strenuous nature of exertion at altitude and the group dynamics with porters. I pressed ahead at a steady pace, chatting with my brother and snapping pictures when the views compelled me to do so. Most of the numerous stream crossings were quite straight-forward. The one in the deep gully required a bit of leaping from boulder to boulder but was still quite doable. After the last fan, the trail climbed into an ablation valley and then came to a viewpoint at the top of the moraine. The view was pretty jaw-dropping with the white ice of Toshain Glacier spread out in the foreground and razor sharp ridges and lofty peaks rising from behind this mass of ice. Various huge boulders were perched precariously on pillars of ice on the glacier below us. Each peak seemed to have a knife-edge ridge accompanying it. These ridges had beautiful snow flutings. Laili peak had one of the most heavily glaciated faces I have ever seen on a mountain. The trail seemed to fork soon after this viewpoint but the upper fork seemed to have stones blocking it. I read it as a sign to avoid it – probably put there by porters to guide us. This proved to be a correct guess, the upper trail had been wiped out by slides. The lower trail descended steeply in loose moraine rubble for a couple of hundred feet to skirt the slide area. At this point the glacier seemed close enough to touch. I had to exercise severe self-restraint to keep myself from bounding down to it and checking out the balanced boulders. While I was gushing over the view, Omair was surlily making his way to the base camp. It was clear that the scenic beauty surrounding us had failed to make a dent in his city rat mental outlook. I could see the meadow of Mazeno Base Camp. A large stream gushed out from the Base Camp valley and buried itself into the glacier below. The porters and donkey were waiting for us in the meadow. There was a porter shelter or two and lots of flat area for camping. A few cows and dzos were grazing further up the valley. Safiullah pointed out the moraine of Mazeno Glacier which hid Mazeno high camp. We could also see the notch marking Mazeno Pass. Most of the bulk of NP was hidden from view but the views across Toshain Gl. were superb. This camp was at 4300m and I was a little concerned about acclimatization. However I felt fine as did everybody else. We set up camp and got water from a spring nearby. It had taken about 5 hours to hike up here from Shaigiri.

I was feeling pretty bushed and decided to chill out in the tent for a while before preparing dinner. From my tent door I could see 3 plump golden/black marmots sitting on the hill above the camp area. For dinner I decided to make some rice and lentils. I did this with some misgivings because I knew from prior experience how hard it was to get lentils to cook at altitude. However Omair was sick of the Lipton rice/tuna concoction that is my staple backpacking food. I spent the rest of the evening cooking the rice and lentil. Safiullah was busy making his own version of the rice, albeit on a wood fire. Both of us had a devilishly hard time getting things to cook. The rice pilaf was not too problematic but the lentils proved a much tougher proposition. No matter how much water I added the lentils stayed crunchy despite over an hour of boiling. The stove ran out of gas and I had to cook partly on wood fire. The cows had edged closer to us over the course of the afternoon. The porters warned us to watch our food as these cows were apt to raid camp sites and steal food. Indeed one brown-colored miscreant cow did mange to get into our food but we scared it away before it could munch and slobber. A judicious stone thrown by the porter thwarted another intruder. We spent the rest of the evening keeping a wary eye on any cow that came too close. Around sunset all the cows wandered over to a communal pen area on their own steam and placidly stood or lay down in it. I tried to make overtures to the porters’ donkey but it seemed very shy and wouldn’t let me pet him. Omair noticed my attempts and came over. He made cooing sounds and damned if the donkey didn’t come over to be petted. It became quite cold after the sun went down with a chilly wind coming off the glacier. The porters built a fire from wood and cow dung to cheer themselves up and for warmth. Safiullah offered us a little bit of his rice that he had cooked on the wood fire. It had looked appealing from a distance. He had even garnished it with fresh green peppers. However, a bite or two of it were enough to convince us to wait for our own food to cook. At about 9 pm I gave up on the lentils and we ate the food as is. It was not too bad despite the slightly crunchy lentils, and we both ate heartily. We tried to sit by the fire and eat, but the wind kept blowing the acrid dung smoke into our faces. The porters warned us to guard our stuff against marauding cattle. They had tied up their donkey for the night. They also blockaded their enclosure by putting wood sticks in the door opening. A late night jaunt to the sandy area for a toilet break and then I was ready to hit the sack.

Day 7, Aug 12 Glacier exploration, Mazeno Base Camp to Shaigiri:

Up at the usual early hour. Once the sun hit the tent it was way to warm to stay in it. The cows had approached a little closer sometime at dawn but I had shooed them away after hearing them snorting and rustling nearby. The weather this morning was not as nice as the previous few days. Usually the skies were cloud-free in the morning but today I could see clouds hanging near the various summits. Laili peak in particular had some ominous looking dark clouds lurking around it. I had a couple of options in mind for today. One was to go on to the glacier and explore the intriguing balance rocks. The other was to hike up alone to Mazeno high camp. Safiullah had been up to Mazeno Pass very recently mentioned and was very dismissive of the books description of the technical perils of its crossing. He claimed to have gone down it in sandals carrying a full load. However he squelched any visions I had of grand views of NP from the pass or high camp. Apparently the view stays pretty much the same as from Mazeno Base Camp. My own examination of the route up the valley seemed to confirm his statements. It seemed like the bulk of NP would stay hidden by cliffs and moraines. One might get more expansive views towards the surrounding lesser peaks but that would be about it. I decided to go for the glacier excursion even though I was a little worried about venturing on white ice without crampons. Unsurprisingly, Omair opted to stay in camp. After the morning chores (I skipped breakfast) , Safiullah and I headed back down the trail to the slide area. When the trail got close to the glacier we cut down the moraine on fairly stable rocks to get to the ice. My first few steps on the glacier quelled my trepidations on walking without crampons. Much to my surprise the glacier offered excellent traction. The small rocks and pebbles embedded in the ice provided more than adequate traction. In fact they were much less likely to shift than the rocky debris that covered lower glaciers like Bazhin and Tarhshing. I cruised up the glacier and was soon standing next to the big boulders balanced on seemingly fragile stems of ice. A major photo fest followed as Safiullah and I made our way up the glacier towards Toshain Peak. This was definitely a new and wonderful terrain that I had never come across before. Streams of clear water course over the ice and vanished into large ice wells (moulins). The curious balanced rocks were all over the place. The undulating ice was rarely steep enough to impede progress. A few crevasses did appear periodically but they were often small enough to be easily jumped across. The bigger ones could be detoured across. The central ice band was relatively crevasse-free and we followed it up towards where it curved right past Toshain peak. The glaciers coming down from Laili and Rupal peak were mostly debris-covered and formed a separate band on the far side of this massive mega-glacier. We could see our camp site and Omair and Imran watching us from there. As we walked up I saw that there was a much bigger stream coming from the next valley up and flowing into the glacier. I would have been content walking up all the way to the tantalizing amphitheatre of peaks behing Toshain Peak but Safiullah seemed loath to continue after a couple of hours. He was wearing tennis shoes and they were soaked through, hence his desire to get off the ice. I had already seen more of this glacial wonderland than I expected, I would have been content just to reach the balanced boulders that had tempted me so much from the trail yesterday. Accordingly we turned back after I had taken a break and had a little snack. Instead of walking all the way back, Safiullah cut across to the base of the moraine below our campsite. I followed reluctantly since I knew I would be abandoning the firm ice for wobbly rocks and morainal rubble. My fears proved to be well-founded as I stumbled from one teetering boulder to the next. Large rocks would shift unnervingly as I stepped on them. Finally we had to ascend the loose and steep moraine. This whole exercise was more taxing than the rest of the glacier exploration combined but once we had committed to it I couldn’t back out. I was a little pissed at Safiullah for insisting we take this route back to camp. I finally popped over the moraine and rested there for a while before walking the last 100 yards to camp. Omair was champing at the bit to go home but I wanted to tarry a little longer at this spectacular place. As we discussed our options I was also noting the worsening weather. The clouds had thickened considerably since morning and rain was beginning to look highly likely. The porters were also expressing concern about the impending rain even though they had a perfectly serviceable shelter built on the hillside under a large overhanging boulder. They were also making dire predictions about falling rocks and landslides along the trail in case of rain. Finally I caved in to vox populi and told them to pack up. We were all packed and hit the trail by 1:30 pm. Safiullah generously offered to carry Omair’s backpack down for free since they needed to balance the load on the donkey. The trip down to Shaigir went pretty smoothly for the most part. I did twist my ankle on one of the innumerable stones pretty early on and this forced me to go slow. The weather continued to worsen and it soon began to rain. It would oscillate from drizzle up to heavy rain. I had to don and doff my rain shell several times since it was way too hot to hike while wearing it in light rain. The alluvial fans took forever to cross because of the extremely rocky trail-less terrain. I came across an interesting scene at the large gully with the stream. A couple of boys were shepherding their herd of goats across the stream. Most of the goats had judiciously located the corssing-point and would make the large leap between the two boulders to cross the gushing muddy torrent. However a couple of them seemed very skittish and one almost got washed away because it couldn’t make the leap. I waited a while for the goats but then got tired and cut in line. Omair was waiting across the stream in the shade of the first trees below timberline. He had no jacket and was getting pretty wet and grumpy as he smoked a cigarette. We continued downhill together until we got to the plateau. I sort of lost the trail this point but kept picking it up again as I generally followed the silty stream flowing below the edge of the plateau. Finally I caught sight of Omair and the porters waiting for me just above the Shaigiri camp. Rain seemed imminent so I quickly set up camp. I was very tired and short-tempered by now. I felt that we should have stayed put at Mazeno Base Camp, both so we could rest a little as well as to weather out the storm in our well-established camp. Anyway just as I was getting ready to cook up some of the usual slop, it started to rain. I quickly dragged everything into the vestibule and crawled in just as large rain-drops started pelting the tent. It was only 6 pm but it had gotten very dark because of the cloud cover. For the next hour or so it rained heavily. I was so tired that I didn’t care about food anymore. I had had practically noting to eat since last night. Omair had polished off all the leftovers from the night before while I was out exploring the glacier. I finally dozed off hungry as the rain continued to hammer the tent. It continued to rain well past midnight.

Day 8, Aug 13, Shaigiri to Tarashing : Omair got up before me this morning. I was still recovering from yesterday’s exertions and in no hurry to get up. I was surprised to hear that despite the cloud cover NP was still visible all the way to the summit. I finally dragged myself out of the tent while Omair prepared some tea. Fortunately we had pitched the tent in a good spot last night. A couple of small rivulets had missed our tent by a few feet. After Omair had brewed his tea, I cooked up some cheesy hashbrowns (hamburger helper) with a packet of salmon thrown in for good measure. This concoction turned out to be very unpalatable. Omair gave up after just a couple of spoonfuls. I soldiered on and ate as much as I could, but finally had to hand off the rest to Imran , the porter, who had just arrived. He polished it off and then rinsed the dishes. We were both tired and sick of trekking and this place by now. Our earnest desire was to get the hell out of this place today if possible. Safiullah seemed doubtful about our ability to do that. We decided to take the bridge across the river and follow the trail on the other side of the Rupal glacier outwash stream. Supposedly this would offer better tread than this side. This indeed proved to be the case. I followed the nice rock-free trail through the village and more or less paralleled the stream for about 45 minutes before coming to a second bridge. Omair wanted to keep going on this side, hoping that this would avoid the Bazhin Glacier crossing. Safiullah and I managed to convince him that this would be a bad idea since it would commit us to going to Tarashing. There were no camp sites available on this side of the river whereas Herligkoffer Base Camp would offer a chance to set up camp if we were making really slow progress. Accordingly we crossed back to the other side and made our way to Tupp Meadows and up to the moraine of Bazhin Glacier. We ran into a Brit. Couple, the chick dressed very modestly in a chadar. I chatted with them briefly before continuing on. I had chosen to dress in shorts today after the porter assured me that it would not offend the locals’ sensibilities. The Bazhin Gl. crossing was not as straight-forward as we had imagined. Luckily there was wood-cutter herding his loaded donkey train and we followed him for a while before he moved out of sight. We kept following cairns but somehow managed to get on an old and obsolete trail just before the moraine. It might have been a valid trail at some time but glaciers-shifts had rendered it obsolete. We kept going because we could see animal dung and old cairns. Soon we found ourselves at the edge of a steep ice slope. The moraine and correct trail were tantalizingly close but a huge boulder was acting as a gendarme and blocking our access to it. The safe option would have been to backtrack, but Omair jumped the gun and squeezed around it before I could stop him. One false step here would have resulted in a serious fall down the ice slope -- with results too horrible to contemplate. I handed Omair my pack and poles before carefully making it across. An old bearded guy was watching our antics and quickly came over and pointed out a good route to make it over to the trail. I found the people in this area to be very helpful and much less greedy than some a-holes I have run into in other parts of Pakistan (see K-7 Base Camp or Passu travelogues for examples). We cruised up the moraine and soon descended into the meadow of Herligkoffer Base Camp by 2:30 pm. Safiullah was waiting for us here with the donkey, apparently having left Imran back at the village. He seemed quite impressed with the pace of our progress. It was clear that if we continued to crank at current rate, we could be in Tarashing by 7 pm. I wouldn’t have minded spending a day at this base camp. The LP guide mentions a side trip up the moraine to get good views of the icefalls descending into Bazhin Glacier. However if there is one thing that ruins these trips, its having a partner who has no interest in the surroundings and a strong desire to make it back to the city malls. Also the weather seemed to be the same old crap as yesterday. The consensus seemed to be that we would be in for a rainy spell for the next several days. Given all this I decided to push ahead despite my creaky ankles and finish this trek. Safiullah raced ahead and I brought up the rear as usual. I stopped to filter some water at the same spring. The cloudy and cool weather definitely helped ease some of the heat troubles we had encountered on the way up. We continued down the valley and soon started encountering signs of civilization. Before we knew it we were back at the hut where we had camped the first night. I felt pretty braced at this sight since I knew that Tarshing was only 2 hours distant from this point. We slowly wound our way through the deserted village and then through the more developed lower village where kids were playing volleyball. We took a little break at the shop and had a couple of cold colas before continuing our final leg. Omair encountered a soldier from his regiment who was home on leave. This guy not only accompanied us, he insisted on carrying my pack across the Tarshing Glacier. Safiullah was waiting on the top of the moraine. He immediately shouldered my pack (maybe hoping that a favorable last impression would result in a larger tip?) and led the way down the moraine and into the village. I had asked Omair to run ahead and see if he could compare the two hotels in terms of rates and amenities. I found him sitting in the lawn of the first hotel, chatting with the attentive hotel owner like he was the lord of the manor. This officer mentality I guess, you get used to lowly minions doing all the dirty work. Anyway the hotel owner showed us a “suite” with a sitting area, several bedrooms and a private bath. He wanted 500Rs, but I bargained him down to 400. I was too tired to comparison shop and it seemed like a nice enough place. The only caveat being that we had started our trip from the other hotel and that guy had some expectation that he would get our business. Safiullah had already left our stuff there and had to reluctantly go and fetch it. I suggested to Omair that we go eat at the other establishment to heal any ill-will.

Day 9 , Aug 14, : Tarashing to Gilgit : Up early. Weather was still crappy so I gave up any ideas of hiking along the moraine to Chongra peaks. During the night some foreigners had shown up with a jeep. I went and talked to them as they were having breakfast in the hopes of getting a ride from them. They were 3 young Germans working in Islamabad (2 guys and a girl). They graciously accepted my request for a ride down to the main road. We quickly packed up and squeezed into the front seat of the jeep. We trundled down the bumpy road, which felt a lot rougher than it had on the ride up. They dropped us off at army workshop in Gaurikot before leaving for Deosai plains. We parted with mutual expresions of goodwill. The jeep driver managed to extract 200Rs from us even though he was not even part of the equation. We sat in the army camp and sipped tea while waiting for any transport going down to Astor. Several jeeps were flagged down by the soldiers but they had no room. Finally after an hour or so we got lucky and found a army pickup going to Astor. We got in the back along with a couple of other soldiers. The journey to Astor was pretty uneventful except for one soldier puking his guts out (thankfully on the road and not in the pickup bed). They dropped us off in the Officers mess and I gratefully checked back into the same room that we had left only a few days ago. It almost felt like coming home with the mess servant breaking out the french fries and tea. Today was Aug. 14, Pakistan's Independce day. A big to-do was going on in the school ground below the mess. Apparently the district commissioner and other local big-wigs were dancing to the beat of a lively drum. I was exhausted and dozed off a little as Omair went out to make inquiries about getting the next bus to Gilgit. He was obsessed with making it back to civilization and ignored all my proposals to chill out here or in Gilgit for a day or two. We also called home and let Mom know that we were back from the trek. Omair secured a couple of front seats on the hi-ace van to Jaglot since there were no direct buses going to Gilgit this late in the day. The ride to Jaglot went pretty smoothly. It started to rain during the journey which worried both of us since the chance of landsliding after rain is almost a certainty round these parts. Thankfully we made it past the dicey section without mishap. It was unnerving to see the vast scree slopes and cliffs towering over the thin ribbon of road that we were on. The rain-swollen and muddy Astor river was roaring and lashing furiously in the gorge below us. An awe-inspiring sight. After crossing the Indus river we entered the relatively flat rubble strewn moon-scape on the road to Giligt. The rain still continued to pelt us and I could clearly see large rocks tumbling down the crumbly cliffs. Thankfully there were large flat expanses separating us from the cliffs most of the time. By the time we got to Jaglot I was starving. The smell of kababs cooking on a coal-fire soon broke down my resistance and I made a beeline for the grungy cart where an old guy was fanning the coals and cooking skewers of mystery meat over the glowing embers. I ordered a few and had them with a nan on the spot. Mercifully there were no repercussions from this culinary adventure. Omair managed to find a van departing for Gilgit and got us a couple of seats. We got to Gilgit just as the evening calls to prayer were sounding from the mosques. The van dropped us off at the main bus-stand. We had to catch a cab to the FCNA headquarters and officers mess. Omair managed to get me a room but then decided he was going to leave for Pindi right away. I tried to persuade him to stay but he had had enough of the mountains and longed for the comforts of home. Even my offers of treating him to the buffet at the Serena hotel failed to sway him. Finally, I bid him a fond farewell and returned to the mess to plan my next adventure. Later I found out that it took him almost 24 hours to reach Pindi due to a landslide in Swat that blocked the KKH and necessitated switching buses after walking across the slide. I took a suzuki to the main bazaar and found the hotel I had eaten at 3 years ago. It was still going gang-busters and I gorged myself till I could eat no more. There was some political stuff going on and police had blocked off the main road because of the large crowd. I had to catch a taxi back to the mess.