Hiking in Passu

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August 20

I wake up at the break of dawn to the rooster giving the wakeup call. I almost think I'm back in Mongolia as baby goates come scampering in my room to make sure I'm awake and aware of their presence. After a breaki of omeletes and another order packed for lunch I head towards the suspension bridges mentioned by the hotel manager. After walking on the highway for ten minutes and then heading down the small path skirting the village I have the strange sensation that I'm being watched, and several moments later a girl perched on a rock above me questions me on my intended route. In nearly perfect english I get redirected down a barely visible path and soon once again run into two smiling villagers bringing back wheat heaped upon their backs from some unknown location, once again I'm redirected towards the bridges. After another half hour of uncertainty I arrive at the first suspension bridge, this thing would have put anything from Indiana Jones to shame. It was quite the test crossing it by myself though there was no wind and the main cables still seemed quite solid. The biggest problem was the vertigo one feels from the rushing water underneath your feet. On the other side its off across a baren landscape with no desernable path except a few footprints and stone markers left by local villagers for when the snow drifts come in. Eventually I arrive at a small village of stone huts and channels irrigating fields. Beware to the traveler these villagers are insanely friendly and you will be offered tea and bread at every house you pass turning a small trek into several hours spent here. One of the most memorable moments of this day though was helping a group of villagers harvest. They still use hand sicals and after ten minutes I was asked to stop as even the little kids were faster than I was.
After leaving the village it was much easier finding the second bridge with a clear path cut into the side of a cliff, a previouse attempt to build a larger and more stable bridge is evident and destroyed. Upon the other side was another picturesque village with mobs of children, though evidently foreigners came here much more often as I was soon bereft of all pens/pencils/candies and small denomination ruppees I carried. After finding the main road again I meet an Italian who is walking the entire way from Kashgar to Islamabad, this place is truly a sieve in only allowing the most interesting people to come to Pakistan, I can only imagine what awaits me in the NW frontier province. I stop at Baltek lake for a quick Fanta and meet some locals who joke about the Taliban and the recent events in Afghanistan. Afterwards its along old canals/rebuild ones with pvc pipe to come to the Glacier lookout. As it starts to get dark I head back even though the views are amazing. After attempting a shortcut down a rockslide I end up far behind the hotel in farmers pastures. The night ends with several power shortages and some vegetable curry.

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