I spent a couple of weeks recently with some good friends in a rather remote part of the world. I would highly recommend the place if you’re into high mountains and snow and deserts.
I’d highly recommend it even if you’re only into nice people and good food.
I first came to the Hunza Valley in the northern Pakistan region of Gilgit-Baltistan in mid-2023, well into a months-long 4×4 overland drive from Paris to Kuala Lumpur.
I noticed how beautiful the region was but didn’t get to see the place in all its glory. I knew I had to come back.
So I was back there recently with a group of Malaysians and Europeans with a connection to Malaysia. We ended up rating the trip as perfect, which doesn’t leave much room for exaggeration and embellishment in the future, though I’m sure we’ll find a way!
Pakistan is a rather modest country, happy to claim second place for many of its best features. It claims, among others, the second highest mountain on earth (K2, which it shares with China), the second highest desert (Katpana) and the second highest plateau (Deosai).
This humility is endearing. Could it be that, as a car rental company once claimed, when you’re number two you try harder?
Its people though are clearly the friendliest on earth, friendlier than even (gasp) Malaysians! In our 15 days there, there was not even a single instance of unfriendly interaction with a local. Not one.
Breathtaking vistas
In my old age I’ve come to love mountains and deserts, although I was born by the seaside.
There’s something breathtaking in seeing the horizon pierced by jagged, living and seemingly cruel mountain rocks. The same with the ever-changing deserts, which are more than just vast tracts of sands, stones and shrubs.
There are mountains elsewhere, certainly. But there’s a special edge to the landscape when the backdrop comprises the Himalayas, the Karakoram, the Hindukush and the Pamir mountain ranges.
Looking up at peaks of six, seven or even eight thousand metres high is way more humbling than gazing at mere rolling hills and downs.
We flew into Skardu from Islamabad on a short flight made longer by the pilot literally going out of his way to give us a grand tour of the magnificent lands below. It appears that Pakistan’s pilots are trained, or at least encouraged, to be tour guides too.
The plane banked and circled to show us world-famous features – Nanga Parbat, the many K mountains, the valleys – and reminded me of flying in small planes over the Nazca Lines in Bolivia (but without the motion sickness and the throwing up).
Almost met Reinhold Messner
Skardu was our base for over a week. We got around in Toyota 4x4s driven by ever-smiling, friendly maniacs who made Malaysian drivers look like old retired aunties. All I could do was watch the road and not scream.
We went deep into the mountains and valleys towards the many base camps of the K mountains – K1 (Masherbrum), K6, K7 etc. We didn’t get to the actual base camps. They’re too far away and too tough, especially as winter approaches. But we did put in a few good hikes.
At the accommodation – a very basic place built by a Spanish NGO with no heating and hardly any lighting – we were told the next day we might get to meet Reinhold Messner.
Alas, the timing didn’t work out, or that would’ve been a meeting to remember. Messner is, in many people’s books, the greatest mountaineer who ever lived. He’s the real deal – a man of superhuman strength and will, with a long list of mountaineering firsts.
Perhaps it was a good thing we didn’t meet him, or else I’d be boring everybody for the rest of my life by dropping his name into every conversation. But still…
When the pen is mightier…
Along the way we presented gifts to the local kids of the many cheap pens we had brought with us. I remember the sight of a small boy running ahead with a huge smile on his face and holding the pen like an Olympic torch.
His happiness at receiving a pen that literally cost cents was amazing. He may remember the pen for the rest of his life. I will most certainly remember him for the rest of mine too.
Next time you’re visiting some remote and rather poor places, dear readers, bring pens. Lots of them.
Tough people of the north
We drove up to the Deosai national park (world’s second highest!) one cold overcast morning. Snow covered the plateau and blocked many tracks, so we didn’t see much of the vaunted flora and fauna.
But even in this desolate place there was a tent where a man conjured up some wonderful hot meals. Winter was almost there, and it makes you wonder how these people survive in rickety, leaky tents in the freezing winds and snow.
The locals are tough people indeed, the western Himalayan equivalent of the Sherpas of Nepal. They’re often porters in expeditions to the world’s most dangerous mountains (not just second most dangerous mind you). Their contributions and exploits are just as critical, but less well known, as those of the Sherpas.
While some of Pakistan’s natural features may rank as the world’s number two, the people are clearly world’s number one. Their courtesy and never-failing smiles are genuine and out of this world, much like the landscapes.
Into the Hunza valley
We then made the long drive to the Hunza Valley, joining the famed Karakoram Highway. We drove past Gilgit, the region’s capital, to the small town of Aliabad and the nearby historical Karimabad.
The roads here are better – marginally, even if the drivers aren’t. Aliabad became the new base as we went on more hikes, including one to see the giant Passu glacier, or whatever was left of it after being ravaged by the changing climate.
Most of our hikes and treks were relatively short and easy, just enough for our Scandinavian friends to show off their fitness. But our highlight was certainly the full-day trek up to the base camp of Rakaposhi, a 7,800m-high mountain, or almost twice as tall as our own Gunung Kinabalu.
Most spectacular scenery
With my bad knees and back, both much operated on after years of hiking and trekking, I wisely chose to ride a horse instead of walking. I wouldn’t have made it up to the base camp otherwise, nor made it down again, which would have made me miss one of the most spectacular mountain scenery I’d ever seen.
Picture this: Rakaposhi, the seven-thousand-plus-metre Diran nearby, glaciers, constant avalanches up the mountain slopes, and sweeping vistas that cameras could never capture.
At the base camp, the superhuman porters served us freshly-cooked delicious meals of dhal and rotis, and freshly-brewed tea.
The sun shone, the breeze whispered, and we sat back and sipped hot tea and gazed at one of the world’s great mountains. We didn’t want it to end.
On the way down we met a lone hiker, a European with a dog who crammed himself into a small crevice and just watched the vista. When I got past him, he said it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been to.
One wouldn’t disagree at all. I’d have loved to camp there and wake up in the glorious sunshine of late summer and spend hours just watching the mountains and the glaciers and listening to the cracks and rumble of falling rocks and splintering ice and rumbling avalanches.
Alas, that’s beyond me now, but if you’re the adventurous kind, keep that at the back of your mind. Rakaposhi base camp would be a highlight for any traveller.
Lighting up the trip
The small town of Aliabad and the nearby Karimabad – apart from their usual Pakistani mountain charms – were then also celebrating the birthday of the new Aga Khan, the spiritual leader of the local population of the Ismaili sect.
There were lights everywhere, as many as all Malaysian festivals rolled into one. There were even lit signs on the mountain cliffs, which at night eerily looked like floating stars.
Our hotel had a restaurant with a great view of Rakaposhi, which was a good enough reason for me to once have an almost four-hour breakfast.
The 15 days felt both short and long at the same time. The return journey had some security concerns because of some disturbances in some parts of Pakistan, but they came to nothing.
It isn’t all sweetness and light in Pakistan, but the people and mountains of the north are generally safe, overwhelmingly beautiful and friendly and, depending on how you choose to do it, quite affordable.
Sure, Switzerland has mountains too, but if you ask the Swiss mountains “who’s your daddy?”, the honest answer would be: the Himalayas, the Karakorams etc.
If you want to see mountains, go and see the daddy of them all.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.