Heaven and Hell

I arrived in Gilgit, the capital of Pakistan Northern Areas, full of good feelings about the country and its wonderful people. Pakistan had not disapointed so far, but I was sure that the mountainous north, which I had heard so much about, would be a let down. First night in the hotel, I met Michael (Chitral) and James (Shiraz), the only Irishmen I had met since Sarajevo. We were all keen to see Nanga Parbat, the Killer Mountain, from the popular Fairy Meadows trek. With the Islamic holy month of Ramazan almost upon us, we set off.

After a hairy jeep-ride, and a 3 hour walk, we arrived, huffing and puffing, at the campsite, with a great view of the massive right in front of us. 3 nights were spent at the site, with day walks to the base camp, and another up the ridge of an adjacent mountain, all with incredible views. Already I knew I had been wrong - I'd never seen mountains like this before, and can't imagine I ever will again.

Nanga Parbat is the western anchor of the Himalayas, and is rising faster than any other area in the range, meaning some day (if this trend continues) in the distant future it will overtake Kanchenjunga, K2, and eventually Everest, as the worlds tallest. It is 7 verticle kilometres from the summit to the Indus River gorge, the highest elevation difference on earth. Quite a ight. The local shepherds have monopoly on transport and accomodation, the Nanga Parbat Mafia - they burned out a proposed rival hotel a couple of years back.

We arrived back in Gilgit, with Ramazan now in full swing, intending to head over to Baltistan, to try and get a glimpse of K2. The morning before our proposed departure, I was buying a wooly hat and gloves in the bazaar, when a strange, rubbery feeling in the ground struck us. The shop ownder and his son ran out of the shop, and I wasn't far behind - we all knew instantly what it was, though none of us had felt anything like it before; Earthquake! Men were falling to the ground around me to pray, and when I reached the hotel, the staff were doing likewise. And then it stopped, just like that. No damage or death, we all felt like we'd dodged a bullet. Within two minutes, life was back to normal.

Half an hour later, news started to come through of a village further south flattened by the shake. The rest as they say, is history. In Gilgit, we felt very detached from what had happened, it was really difficult to comprehend the destruction that had taken place, literally, down the road. What could we do but continue on?

Baltistan was out now - we weren't sure about the situation there, so we headed north to Minapin, Nagyr Valley, for the trek to Rakaposhi base camp. It was a long day (6-hour), but on reaching the top, the most amazing sight I've ever seen was before me - the Rakaposhi Massive, with two 7000+ peaks (Diran and Rakaposhi) linked by a huge ridge with avalanches constantly crashing down to the glacier below. We camped at base camp, and descended the next day to Minapin, continuing on to the tourist town of Karimabad, Hunza Valley.

James returned to Gilgit to get his visa extended, with the promise to make it to Karimabad the next day. He never made it.

In many western minds, Pakistan is a dangerous, gun-toting country, a haven for terrorists with big bushy beards and a crazy glint in their eye. This is, of course, mostly bullshit - however, it would be misleading to pretend that the country doesn't have its share of problems. Events in Gilgit illustrate this perfectly.

Because the Northern Areas are a part of Kashmir, the Pakistani government does not recognise it as a province, because in doing so, they would have to recognise Indian occupied Kashmir as a seperate province. This leaves the Northern Areas in limbo - for example, the people, having fought hard to join Pakistan after partition, are now unable to vote in national elections. The result is increasing civil unrest in Gilgit in particular. This, coupled with Shia/Sunni tensions, has resulted in many disturbances in the past. However, the day we arrived in Karimabad, all hell broke loose in Gilgit. It would be wrong for me to write what I 'heard' here, as details have been sketchy - but there's no doubt that dozens were killed in the street shoot-outs that erupted. James was trapped in his hotel for 5 days before finally escaping with the help of a police escort, while we waited up in Karimabad.

This has been a difficult one to write, since my time in Northern Pakistan was totally over-shadowed by these two events. I've received a few Private Meassages from people urging me to go out and 'help' with the relief effort. Well, every NGO worker I've met has told me to stay right away, I'd only be getting in the way - they don't need bakers, they need tents! So I tried to enjoy Karimabad as best I could, but unfortunately, I fell ill with Giardiasis - that's the one with the 'eggy' burps. My plans to head further north to Passu were disrupted, then the weather turned bad, and the road south was blocked thanks to events in Gilgit. Then, I got a chance, a bus was heading all the way to Rawalpindi, by-passing Gilgit, did I want to take it? I was still not feeling great, but I decided to risk it, and a 22-hour bus journey later, I was back in Rawalpindi.

What more to write? I met Chris, another NGO worker, who told me the Pakistanis are on top of this one, and from what I've seen, he's right. We passed through Manseira, totally flattened, on the way down, and the place was buzzing, lots of reconstruction work going on. And that's all I can say about it. For those hoping for an eye-witness report of the earthquake, I'm sorry to disappoint, but you probably saw more than me.

I'm in Lahore now, commuting between here and Islamabad as I wait for my Indian visa. It's a great city, with a couple of amazing sights, and in a way, I feel like I'm already in India. 60 years ago I would have been, and the border is only 30km east. So near and yet so far. Till next time.......

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