Guest blog: The Meeting of the Mountains, Northern Pakistan

Dora here. I'm excited to present, as our first ever guest blog, an exclusive on Mum and Dad's trip to the north of Pakistan. 

Written independently of each other, these two complementary accounts work beautifully side-by-side.

Mum's account

Dad's account

Nanga Parbat, the Himalayas, from the plane We sat on the right flying north from Islamabad to Skardu and thus did see Nanga Parbat, a massive mountain in the Himalayas. We also flew only a few feet above the mountains of the Karakoram Range. We were being introduced to the grandeur that was to come. In Shigar Valley, an hour's drive over sand beside the Indus River, from Skardu, we stayed in the old timber and stone fort, now a hotel. It is built on rock, under a steep mountain upon which are the ruins of the even older fort. Our guide, Atta, accompanied us to visit three fine, small wooden and clay mosques. They and the fort have been restored by the Agha Khan's Trust. We drove to see the hydro electric power houses and the dam on the Saltpara Lake and clambered up the rock path to the Karpochu Fort above Skardu. When we marvelled at the view, Atta hinted that the truly wonderful sights were still to come. The Indus River through the Rondu gorge The route from Skardu to Hunza follows the brown snow melt waters of the Indus River as it flows furiously through the narrow Rondu gorge. The 170 km mile long, one way road, cuts through steep bed rock or perches on lose scree as it winds its way above the river. Our driver, Mr Baig, steered quickly to the side when we met a painted truck, a bus or family car. Peering down, down to the rushing water I braced myself each time we had to wait very close to the cliff edge to let a vehicle pass. At one point soldiers packed tightly in five open trucks, their knees under their chins, peered through the wooden slats as they raced by. The next morning we stood outside our hotel room in Karimabad and watched Rakaposhi in the dawn. It is the tallest mountain on earth, from base to peak; it rises 5,800 metres in a horizontal distance of only 11.5 km from the Hunza River. At breakfast we talked with a young family from Karachi and wondered what a group of Chinese men were working on on their laptops. Karimabad. Spot the green of high high meadows where the young boys take the sheep or goats. Glacial melt water pours down the mountains in the spring and summer months. For centuries the people in Baltistan have built walls and channels with rounded river stones so their maize and wheat are watered and their small reservoirs are filled. No water runs in winter. As we walked on the sandy paths beside them Atta dipped a cup into the rushing channels and we drank, savouring its pure coolness. Later, we sat in Atta's home eating spicy samosas cooked by his graceful wife, and deep red, juicy cherries picked by his middle son. Atta told us that his uncle, pictured in a fading photo on the stand, fought with the British Indian army in Burma. His father, he said, was a shepherd but he added that the fittest, most able mountaineers, come from the Saltpara valley. They take their goats up the rocky mountain side to the high meadows in the morning, race down to the village for school and climb up again in the evenings to bring the goats down. One of the greatest road engineering feats, as fault activity, ice melt and precipitation cause continuous erosion, and one of the  highest paved roads in the world, the Karakoram Highway links Pakistan with China through the Khunjerab Pass. A work force of 15,000 Pakistani soldiers and a varying number of Chinese constructed separate parts between 1966 and 1979. From Karimabad we drove north to the village of Passu and backtracked south to the town of Gilgit. Jagged mountains of bedrock towered above us, scree slopes of loose rock and gravel fanned out on to the river plain. The river cuts through the crumbling rock and threads its way across flats of sand and gravel. Huge boulders sit waiting for the next deluge to move them on. Several times fresh rock falls blocked one side of the road. Villages nestle in patches of green where rushing tributaries join. Atta pointed to the toe of the Batura Glacier and talked of a five day trek beside it. We stayed in Gilgit, an army town. The words "We enforce discipline," were displayed on the gate of one regimental headquarters. A short drive out of town there is a broken road leading into a valley. We met two exhuberant young mountain bikers from Islamabad. They explained they were being sponsored by the U.S. Embassy to visit youths in remote areas and tell them how to achieve their chosen careers. High above the road there is a buddha, carved on the rock face. He is standing in walking pose; with his left arm raised he seemed to be wishing all of us travellers well. The next morning, we made our third attempt at the airport to get seats on a flight and were the last two on. Through the mountains we flew again, back to Islamabad.

There is a small, marble Obelisk in northern Pakistan. It is the point where the Himalayas, the Hindu Kush and the Karokorams meet. A breathtaking place. It is on the Karokoram Highway, some miles south of Gilgit. How do you reach that Obelisk? Fly from Islamabad to Skardu. This flight is not for the fainthearted. We didn’t mind one wing of the plane all but scraping the mountains as we descended; both wings was exhilaratng. On landing the air is crystal clear, the sky higher and paler blue. The nose of the aeroplane inhaled the air with pride, surrounded by towering, snow topped peaks. Try a night or two in Shigar Fort Hotel, now a UNESCO site, the rooms restored to their original of centuries ago – except for the discrete electricity and shower and hot water. Softies! Walk the dusty narrow streets and leap clear of the ancient, hopelessly over laden Toyotas speeding to remote villages, or taking climbers to K2. Do you know why it is called K2? Painted truck in the Rondu Gorge with the Indus below Old mosques, polo grounds, schools struggle to reconcile the twenty first century with modern Shigar. Two days later we set off early. The Rondu Gorge is spectacular – all eight hours of it. The road clings by its finger nails to the unstable cliffs and laughs at the roaring Indus below. Occasionally in a morass of tumbling rocks, parts have simply elected to join the river. As the evening pastel shades gathered we passed a Shia self-flagellation site and reached the Highway and the Obelisk. Painted trucks on the Kakoram Highway Head north up the Karokoram Highway. What a piece of engineering! Full details on request. Next time study geology, engineering, and anthropology. Anthropology? Spend a few nights in Karimabad. Through the valleys north of the Obelisk flow the currents of cultures, peoples, religions, conquests. And, of course, forts to go with them – Baltit and Altit – perched atop rocky pinnacles, surveying the valleys, watching for invaders. Then further north, up the impossible Highway, near to the point where Pakistan meets China. Spot the Buddha carved high in the rock Rug making, rock Buddhas and an old British cemetery preceded the flight from Gilgit. We rose up through the valleys, over the mountains, dotted with tiny villages, and back to the steamy heat of Islamabad. Goats in the Saltpara Valley