Walking back to happiness
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Guardian 1 March 2004
September 11 2001 was a bad day for Pakistan.
Suddenly, from being a country not too many people cared about, it was thrust into the limelight as a frontline state in the war on terror. The number of tourists has never been that great, but following 9/11 and all the uncertainties posed by media reports of lurking Taliban, the flow soon dried up.
Now there's some good news. Following the recent thaw in relations between India and Pakistan, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) has relaxed its warning against travel to the country (see fco.gov.uk ), and specialist tour operators are beginning to offer holidays there once again, with trekking in the spectacular Karakoram mountains at the top of the list.
They know what they're doing: nowhere else in the world do mountains rise with such splendour as here, particularly in Baltistan where the giant rock and ice spires of the inner Karakoram culminate in K2, the second-highest mountain in the world at 8,611m. It was first climbed by an Italian expedition in 1954, and this summer special treks to base camp along the thundering Baltoro Glacier are being laid on to mark the 50th anniversary.
Pakistan has much to offer - from the ruins of the 5,000-year old Indus Valley Civilisation at Moenjodaro to the Moghul splendour of Lahore; from the Buddhist remains at Taxila to the bustling bazaars of Peshawar. But the most enticing attraction for many tourists is the mountainous north: the Karakoram extend right across the Pakistani side of Kashmir, from Baltistan in the east to the central region of Hunza, linking up in the west, towards the Afghan border, with the towering Hindu Kush. The range contains the densest concentration of big peaks on the planet, as well as nurturing the longest glaciers in the world outside the polar regions.
The most accessible area is the fabled Hunza Valley. One would expect that getting to the base of almost 8,000m peaks would involve an approach trek of at least a few days, if not a week or two. In Hunza, though, you literally drive between the peaks. This is thanks to the Karakoram Highway (KKH), built as a Sino-Pakistan joint venture and completed in the early 1980s.
There is a fast bus up the highway from Rawalpindi, which is just outside Islamabad, direct to Hunza, covering the 550km distance in about 20 hours. It's an impressive ride but there is the much speedier option of the 70-minute flight from Islamabad to Gilgit, then on by rented Jeep or car.
People have been travelling the route from Gilgit to Hunza for thousands of years - pilgrims, tradesmen, explorers, and even British soldiers, who were marched up there in 1891 to secure the remotest part of the Empire against the perceived threat of a Russian advance over the passes to the north. The invasion never came, but there was plenty of excitement, intrigue and espionage.
With mountains rising steeply on both sides and its tapestry of terraced fields fed by water channelled down from the glaciers, Hunza is an astonishingly beautiful place. The drama is dominated first by Mount Rakaposhi, whose sloping northern face is the highest uninterrupted mountain face on earth, rising to a mind-boggling 7,788m summit. I stopped at the café at the bottom to gaze at the spectacle before continuing to Karimabad, Hunza's capital. The village is dominated by the ancient Baltit Fort, once the stronghold of the mirs (rulers) of Hunza. For centuries, they sat fast in their mountain citadel, dictating the score to anyone with the nerve to pass through, their coffers regularly replenished by booty plundered from caravans plying their trade over the passes to and from Central Asia. With the independence of Hunza long gone, today it's the highway that's brought new prosperity from both tourists and trade.
In contrast to other areas of Pakistan, you see just as many women as men out and about in Hunza. Since the 19th century, the Hunzakuts have been adherents of the Ismaili sect; women share the outdoor chores and are not obliged to veil their faces; instead, many of them wear a distinctive pillbox-style embroidered hat.
The local economy has traditionally revolved around crops such as wheat and maize, as well as fruit. But Hunza is famous for its apricots, with no fewer than 24 varieties grown. Bags of them are piled high in the shops in the bazaar and are also served up in local restaurants, in the delicious bateringe daudo (apricot soup).
There are many other local culinary specialities, from chapatis filled with goat's cheese to a kind of pancake soup, but conventional curry dishes are also available. And along the bazaar, meat eaters can always sink their teeth into some succulent yak kebabs, which they start to barbecue after sundown.
After booking into the Hotel Karim, I took a walk down the bazaar. Little had changed since my last visit, in 2000, when I'd brought the whole family along. Sher Ali was still in business, selling his shawls, capes and hats to the locals. Further down, a new place, the Café de Hunza, had opened up, complete with cappuccino machine and a bookshop selling all the classic yarns relating to the history of this part of the world, including Algernon Durand's The Making of the Frontier and Peter Hopkirk's The Great Game.
After an early night, I woke up to a breakfast of eggs and paratha, and then set out with my friend Ejaz for the two-hour walk up to the tiny settlement of Duiker, situated on a knoll high above the valley at 3,200m. This excursion is a must for any visitor to Hunza - the views are spellbinding.
There's plenty more to do in the Hunza valley, including visiting Baltit Fort, which has been restored as a museum of local history and culture. Simply strolling along the tracks and irrigation canals between the fields and orchards is a delight at any time of year: in the spring for the blossom; in the summer for the harvest when the fruits are laid out to dry; and in the autumn when the whole valley turns into a burnished gold.
Trekkers are in their element, and there are some spectacular routes, including the day-long hike up to Ultar Meadow, the short and simple Rakaposhi base camp trek, and the longer and more difficult five-day tour to the summit of Rush Peak (5,098m). You can also undertake the five-day trek along the Batura Glacier, the fourth longest in the Karakoram at 56km.
Independent travellers can easily link up with local guides, which I duly did, seeking out the services of Arif, and his side-kick Amin, who was to be our porter/cook. Having purchased all our provisions, including a whole chicken from the Karimabad bazaar, we set out in Manzoor Husain's bright red Jeep, the Mountain Tiger, for the trailhead at the Hasanabad nullah (ravine).
The next six days were spent trekking up the remote Muchuhar Glacier, past the sky-cleaving Pute Towers, to the base camp of the south face of Batura, which rears up at this western end of the Karakoram, just shy of 8,000m. Part of the reason for taking this particular valley was that it was supposed to be full of ibex, an animal I'd never seen. But despite scouring the mountainsides with high-powered binoculars, we didn't spot a single one on the entire trek.
They must be out there somewhere, but so must the tourists because we didn't see a single other one of those either. "Maybe next year", said Arif, " inshallah.
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Walking back to happiness
Suddenly, from being a country not too many people cared about, it was thrust into the limelight as a frontline state in the war on terror. (15/03/2004)
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