Himalayas & China 2005: 5 - Bamiyan to Peshawar, Pakistan

Sunday, September 18, 2005

The news is that yesterday the election commission disqualified the three Taliban candidates and all female candidates from running. We also were informed our schedule had changed - the road to Jalalabad was being reconstructed, so a dirt backcountry road was being used. Traffic supposedly flowed towards Kabul one day, and the opposite way the next day. Our original schedule was for an incoming traffic day; so we were to leave a day early and overnight in Jalalabad, then proceed to the Pakistan border in the morning.

After a reasonable breakfast at 7:30 we headed off to see where the Taliban had destroyed the giant Buddhas. The site of the giant Buddhas is a long cliff face honeycombed by cave dwellings. Buddhists occupied these on the trek to Pakistan and India from Central Asia, and it was these people who carved the Buddhas over a long period of time. The statues were inset into the cliff, so the rock extended well out from them above and on both sides. There were three statues - the male was 53 meters (174 feet) high, the female 35 meters (115 feet) high and a child high on the cliff that was smaller - all had been totally destroyed.

Abdul, Rachman and I climbed the ancient stairs inside the cliff to the top of the enclosure where the female had been, a climb that left me gasping. There was a great view from a narrow ledge above where the head had been, although the drop from there is dizzying. Abdul says he was there with his father before the Taliban blew the statues up with artillery, and that there had been a tearoom inside the cliff at that level.

Off in the distance we could see the mountaintop City of Sighs, which was destroyed by Genghis Khan. Directly below us was the area election headquarters. It was a busy place, with swarms of people around. The polling stations were all busy as well, but everything was proceeding in an orderly manner. There are over 5,000 candidates throughout the country competing for less than 100 seats in congress. We later found out that there were no problems with the election anywhere in the country, although everyone is sure that the ballots will be altered between the polling stations and Kabul where the final count will be done.

We headed into town where most businesses were open. A watch shop repaired my sunglass frames and the guard at the only internet café said they would open at 2PM. Melons were purchased for lunch and we headed off for the 75 km, 3-hour drive on rough, dusty roads to the Bande Amir Lakes. Along the way we passed several farm trucks loaded with people headed for the polls to vote.

There are several million mines still not recovered in Afghanistan, and a blown up van alongside the road attested to the danger of getting off the beaten path. The mines laid by the Russians were not a big problem, as they kept precise maps of their location and could be found and removed, but the Taliban and the Afghan fighters laid them indiscriminately.

The countryside was rolling, scrub covered hills with a maze of tracks heading off in all directions. Getting lost without a guide would be a certainty, as there were no road signs. A red fox darted across our path, then stopped to look at us when Abdul whistled, giving us a photo opportunity. We could see a huge escarpment in the distance, but I must confess to wondering if what we would see would be worth the rough ride and dust consumption. When we stopped high above the first of the five lakes, we could see the sheer cliffs of the escarpment dropping to its shores, barren desert to all sides and emerald green shallows, we knew it was worth the ride.

The second lake was even more spectacular. From above an ancient mosque could be seen on the opposite shore, with a couple of boats in front of it. As we began the steep descent we could see that at the end of the lake was a natural dam - a 180-degree narrow curve of rock about half a kilometre long that had lake water on one side and a cliff on the other side. It was close enough to the same height around the entire curve to have waterfalls all the way around. We stopped on a bridge where the stream from the waterfalls flowed. The bottom of a deep pool in the creek was so clear it was as if there was no water there. The water was cold even in this hot weather. The altitude here is about 3,000 meters (9,850 feet). There are three more lakes in the chain, but it is not possible to drive to them.

We explored around the mosque and then had our melon on some plastic tables on the lakeshore in front of the mosque. The lake waters were as clear as the stream had been. The bottom was clearly visible only a few feet from the shore, where the lake plunged into dark blue depths. What a site for a hotel! We can only hope a hotel or some other touristy development comes along soon, as the Japanese are planning a hydroelectric project in this unique beauty spot.

Bamiyan is a city of dirt streets surrounded by beautiful snow capped mountains. The name means "Roof of the World". The elevation is about 2,500 meters (8,200 ft). This is the capital of Bamiyan province, which with 2 million people of the Azara tribe is one of the most populous provinces in the country. There is no electricity other than that from private generators.

Back in town we tried the internet café again, but were told the owners were out of town for the day. We returned to the hotel to the "special" meal promised the night before. It proved to be equally inedible, and very similar. The same soup, the same chicken legs had been cooked a second time; the only difference was a few more vegetables and a bit of melon. The rooms had not been touched - neither cleaned nor made up. On request our laundry was returned to us, which we left for washing this morning. It was soaking wet, stank and was dirtier than when we gave it to them.

Prior to leaving the hotel we asked Abdul to cancel the overnight in Jalalabad, and book an extra night in Peshawar so we would have a two night stop where we could get our laundry redone. He called Manan in Kabul (cell phones work in Bamiyan) and asked him to try to set it up with the head office of Sitara Travel in Islamabad. The same agency is doing both Afghanistan and Pakistan for Bestway Tours.

On the way back we took the other route, through the 3.700-meter (12,139 foot) Shibar Pass. The road was narrower and rougher, but there was very little traffic and the scenery was even more spectacular than before. In spots there were towering cliff on both sides of the road, the space between the cliffs barely wide enough for one vehicle, then the canyon would open onto a beautiful little valley. At one point we were following a stream up hill and it disappeared before we entered a narrow gorge. On the other side of the gorge the stream reappeared beside the road, with a hot spring beside the stream. We stopped to investigate and could see the stream disappearing into a cavern. The Russians had built a concrete pool to capture the bath temperature water from the hot spring in this remote place.

Along the way we passed through small villages, often with groups of tents that served as schools - one tent per class. I'm not sure what they do during the cold winter, but in summer they work fine.

After some dusty hours of driving we came to a broad, fertile valley where we visited the farm of Abdul's uncle. Abdul was born and raised in this area, which is also an Azara territory, the tribe of both Abdul and Rachmad. It was interesting to see the inside of the family walled enclosure. We were introduced, and taken up a dark flight of stairs to a comfortable, carpeted room with sleeping mattresses sacked in the corner. The room looked out into the central courtyard. The women of the house joined us - the men were working in the fields, as it is harvest time. They served tea, home made yoghurt and bread with homemade butter. It was delicious and we ate heartily!

After saying goodbye to our hosts and driving some time we were back in apple orchard country. In one small village we stopped so Abdul and Rachman could bargain for apples while Marilynn and I walked back to photograph a nomad camp with their camels. Back in the area of the apple sellers Marilynn asked one fellow if she could take his photo and the inevitable happened - everyone wanted in on the act. Dozens of photos later we were on our way again.

The next stop was a town in the shadow of an old fort. We went to a restaurant here for lunch. Shoes were removed at the door, as the whole place was carpeted. The eating area was a strip of vinyl laid on the floor the length of the room. We were directed to an area of floor, where we sat down. A slab of the local flatbread landed in front of each of us, dealt from standing height like cards in a casino. Lunch was shish kebab, a meat stew, rice, bread and tea. I'm not sure if it was this lunch or the yoghurt, but we were to pay a horrible price for these meals.

Abdul and Rachman were quite concerned about the hour or so it would take to travel through the territory of the Pashtun tribe. Their lands go all the way into Pakistan where they are inclined to ignore the border, and they are the ones doing the fighting around Kandahar. Attacks in this area are not unknown. Afghanistan is very tribal, and intertribal rivalry is a cause of many of its difficulties. We did not stop in this area.

Toilets in Afghanistan, other than in hotel rooms, are absolutely disgusting, so Marilynn has taken to finding an abandoned building, rock or shrub beside the road as skilfully as she has done on other adventures. There was no stopping for even that in Pashtun territory!

We arrived at the highway to Kandahar, which carries on to Iran. It was good paved road, built by one of the European Union countries. The drive to Kabul was very exciting, and I have video to prove it. There is no driver training here, nor is there a test. Any man can send a messenger to get his drivers license (women drivers are frowned upon & are not issued licenses). To add to the mayhem, no traffic laws are enforced.

Back at the Inter-Continental Hotel in Kabul we were in luck. After 10 hours of eating dust we arrived just as they turned on the hot water. The best hotel in the country only has hot water from 6 until 11 each night! This time we had a room with a king size bed, and a quiet air conditioning unit. It produced absolutely no cool air, but at least it did nothing quietly. Marilynn finally turned it off, as she was convinced it was heating the already hot room. The place seemed truly wonderful in comparison, though.

Marilynn was the first to experience the after effects of the food - she had both ends going during the night. By the time we left the hotel at 5 AM I was also feeling queasy. At this hour of the morning there were many military patrols around, driving fast in armoured vehicles. The front vehicle would have a manned heavy machine gun facing forward, and the rear vehicle would have one facing back. We were stopped at several checkpoints, but cleared through quickly once it was established that we were tourists. Abdul was very cautious about telling soldiers that we were "tourists", in case it was misunderstood as "terrorists", so he always referred to us as "visitors".

We soon hit the detour "road". In all my travels, including the worse of the African back roads, I've never experienced anything like it. The roadbed is made of round boulders of various sizes. Originally it is likely that they were covered by dirt, but the dirt had worn to about halfway down the boulders leaving a continuous series of bone jarring bumps. Traffic was very heavy, and the dust intense. We had a different vehicle and driver today - the same fellow who drove the day we arrived. That the van had air conditioning was very welcome, as the windows could not be rolled down in the dense clouds of dust, but we sure missed the skilled driving of Rachman. He was an excellent man at the wheel.

As we lurched and jolted our way through the dense clouds of dust over ranges of mountains on this twisting, tortuous, track my poor stomach was churned mercilessly, making two stops necessary to let the contents go. It was impossible to relax, as you would be thrown to the floor, so hanging on was essential. We were both hugging ourselves to ease stomach cramps while hanging on for dear life with the other hand. Our driver was the slowest on the road - there were horns blowing behind us continually urging him to move over so other traffic could get by. At one point during this ordeal, on a mountainous curve, a car passed us on the left and a bus on the right at the same time!

We felt we were going to be on this road forever. I did have a good opportunity to study the rest of the vehicles as they went by us, though. Over 95% were Toyotas. Abdul told us there are no car dealers in Afghanistan. People bought these Toyotas as used cars in Dubai. The buses, which had about 25 seats, were Toyotas as well.

The one-way road system sounded great, but in practice was largely ignored. There were continual trucks, buses and taxis looming out of the dense clouds of dust, causing overtaking vehicles to swerve to the right to avoid them. There are apparently few accidents, but given visibility, road conditions and an ignored one-way system it is amazing. Passing is also tricky here, as vehicles are right hand drive and driving is on the right, so the driver must be all the way out into the oncoming lane when passing a large vehicle before he can see if it is clear.

When we finally reached Jalalabad, which was to be a lunch stop, we told Abdul and the driver to go eat and we made a deal to use a hotel room to lay down for half and hour or so. While en route I really wondered if we'd made the right decision to push on to Peshawar, but after seeing the hotel room we knew it was the right choice!

While waiting in the lobby for the driver and guide to get back I was talking to a fellow who worked for the local new agency. He said there had been a rocket attack against one of the UN installations in town earlier in the day. There was also a woman reporter from the Boston Tribune who commented how out of place we looked there. There aren't a lot of tourists!

We headed off on the last lap to the frontier. The dirt road was a little better, and there were sections of completed pavement now and then to give our abused systems a bit of respite. At the border town we passed dozens of vehicle repair places, auto wreckers and shops selling almost everything.

We were stopped a considerable distance from the border by a policeman who was turning anyone not going through the border back. We had jumped the line by driving on the wrong side of the road until stopped by the policeman, who told us to go back up the way we came. Our driver turned in front of the lead car and stopped. Abdul got out to talk to someone, and the driver stubbornly refused to move in spite of the policeman, who at this point was becoming apoplectic. Traffic was now tied up both ways due to our position across the road.

When Abdul returned, he had whatever permission was needed, so we were on our way to the border, beeping our way through a sea of humanity with parcels, carts, animals and various other goods and chattels. We were certainly pleased we didn't have to walk - it was a long way.

At the border Abdul paid a young fellow with a cart to haul our goods to the deluxe 9-passenger Sitara van on the Pakistan side. Abdul handled the formalities well. The lines were surprisingly small, and the procedure very quick on both sides of the border. Abdul had worked with Ali, our guide for Pakistan, so they had a chat before Ali quickly guided us through the Pakistan immigration and customs. We then said goodbye to Abdul, who had been a very good guide in spite of some difficulty in comprehension of English. I understood the problem well, as I have the same difficulty with Spanish at home! Our comfortable van has separate air conditioning in the passenger area that blasts out cold air. This was very welcome, as once the thermometer soared past the 40-degree mark the air conditioning in our previous van was overwhelmed.

The Khyber pass is one of the danger spots in Pakistan, as it is located in the tribal areas. The tribal areas are not provinces of Pakistan, but self-governing territories. An armed soldier joined us for the first leg of the trip through the pass. We stopped to change armed guards three times before exiting the pass. When we stopped to take photos the guard and the guide were very much on the alert.

The Khyber Pass has hosted more invading armies than any other place on earth. It is the most feasible way from Central Asia to the Indian sub-continent, and from early times until the end of British rule one army after another marched through it. At the end of the pass is an arch over the road and a monument with the history of the pass.

We dropped off the last guard at the border town of Landi Kotal, which translates to "Smuggler's Bazaar". A railway built by the British runs here, but is now used only for a weekly tourist steam train. The local bazaar is still quite famous.

>From the border we travelled on good roads, making the trip to the Pearl Continental Hotel in Peshawar pass quickly. Once efficiently checked in we made arrangements for a 10 AM start in the morning with Ali and retired to our deluxe hotel room. We didn't even shower. We took time for a quick wash - which left very dirty towels - set the quietly functioning air conditioning system, and retired to the comfortable bed, where we both slept solidly for over 13 hours.