Wanderings in the Hindu Kush. Introduction. In the winter of 1984-5 I and a girlfriend swanned off to see Pakistan and India, and had some excellent adventures in unusual circumstances. Quite hard travelling then, and in retrospect, too. Still, you have to pass the time somehow ! Read more . .
New Year’s day walk to Chiltan Hill, Quetta – Ceri’s story… Diary entry 3 January… The people at the PTDC (Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation have all been very nice and helpful to us. We go there every day, have tea and talk and generally disrupt the smooth flow of business, although i don’t think they’re rushed off their feet at any time. Quetta isn’t really a massive tourist trap. Read more . .
There were a few people on that trip who were really keen on the archaeology, and really wanted to know the inside of a cat’s arse (phrase from a Welsh girlfriend’s mother), about everywhere, and some who almost hadn’t any idea where they were. Read more . .
I was chatting to the curator when from inside the building I saw a sudden illumination and several shouts. Out came one of the group followed closely by sundry attendants who explained that the person involved had been taking photos. The curator immediately exploded with rage and demanded the camera and its contents. Read more . .
…….I had felt there was an option that needed exploring, from my first visit there. Once having climbed high enough above the slippery rocky slopes of the main valley, the ridge offered an excellent high level walk back to the shoulder above the camp, where I knew there was a safe descent, and I set about checking this route out, with a few intrepid walkers. Read more . .
It was in the midst of powerfully absorbing wild scenery and offered a lot of chances to explore, besides the obvious draw of the glacier, and I went off often to find out more and more about the area. Read more . .
I went to eat in a small ‘French’ restaurant in the town, apparently bought and run by the son of a former governor with allegedly embezzled funds sent from Delhi to fund the former statelet. A French couple entered and ordered their Sunday lunch in French, getting a rough replica of what it might have been at home, but no wine. Read more . .
“Our second day’s trek initially brought us very steeply downhill, our packs conspiring to push us ever faster down the sinuous path to the main river valley, which we then followed upriver, sometimes steeply, usually gradual climbing next to the glacial torrent thundering away on our left.