A Short Drive in the Hindu Kush

As luck would have it, when discussing the question: "to Af or not to Af" in an internet cafe in Dushanbe, an Aussie publican, Nic, piped up - oh yeah just been there mate, ripper - and we spent a few hours and a few beers learning about the exciting sounding road ahead. Our drinking crew in Dushanbe's opera square (Dushanbe the nicest of the Soviet towns we visited) grew next day after we met a group of Americans working in Kabul, very much on the military side - we like to think they were CIA - and with views on everything that are way further to the right that most you come across on the road. There advice for Afghanistan: take your plates off, dont stop for anything and better still get a gun! After a pleasant few days in Dushanbe trying to ignore the mini light saber waving traffic police (another feature of the region, at every 100 meters in towns)and discusssing the 'roll the tanks in' views of our American freinds, with afghan visas in hand we headed to the border with Afghan further down on the Pyanj (or better known as Oxus) river. Stamped out of Taj, the Kenlowe fan went again, which needed fixing before we got on the tiny tug boat ferry. Hassled by the border guards to get on with the job or get stamped back in, got the fan sorted(ish) and after a short while borded the one platform (for one car) ferry, the starting problem becoming more and more acute as we tried to get on. After barely managing to get the old girl going before getting off the ferry, a v relaxed into Afghan in the clouds of dust, we sped the 70km to Kunduz past camel trains and tank traps in fine mood until on arrival our rushed botch up at the border went again. Some astonished looks from the locals as we got the fan running again - the engine being too hot even for a few block crawl without it - we got to our hotel (a reccomendation from Nic) which we were astonished to find was owned by a German, served cold German beer and German (pork!) sausages! There we met a NGO from Denmark who asked his driver to show us to a good mechanic for our badly needed repairs. His advice for the road ahead: don't take your plates off, do stop if you want to and don't carry a gun - everyone knows the cars that do that are full of Americans, and they are a target! The Mechanics came round straight away and sorted out the fan, but the source of the fuel problem not all that apparent. Thankfully all Afghanistan runs on Toyotas, and our type of LCruiser is common, so they soon found the problem next morning, the high pressure fuel lines that lift the fuel out of the tank having big holes in them - surely a result of the Tajik brutality to the old girl when fixing the springs. As the repairs, including changing the most suspect spring, took all day we stayed an extra day. An afternoon stroll turned into a bit of a nightmare after Cadie was followed and stared at (sometimes with menace) relentlessly - it seeming that Afghans are not ready for western women (even dressed appropriately) to walk around just yet. Car fixed up completely, we set off next day over the Hindu Kush via the Salang pass, stopping 15 or so times on the way up as, when there is a following wind, we have had to do since the UK to let the car cool down on the long ups. Scenery throughout beautiful,with charming villages strung along the crystal clear river, finally made it over the pass (and through the infamous tunnel)to the other side. Near the top we bumped into our mechanic, Gulwali, off to Kabul with his mates to spend our money on fast women and hard liquor no doubt...not. The pass on the other side even more charming as we passed a gypsy caravan and villages with terraced fileds of rice and corn, we made regular stops to chat with Gulwali and friends, them giving us a melon to add to our delicous chip lunch. Into Kabul for five o'clock, a little later than we had hoped. We had decided to stay at the Intercontinental as a treat, and as it is supposed to be easy to find (it being on a hill overlooking the town). Well, we couldnt find it, a most disageeeable situation, particularly as whilst driving we witnessed an altercation, Afghan style, in the traffic perhaps 20 yards ahead: 3 locals moving quickly and then all of a sudden pointing very heavy machine guns at each other, and at one point seemingly at us. On advice from a guy by the side of the road we reversed back up the street 100 or so yards, and were just a touch relieved to see the 3 guys get back in their car and speed off! After more driving around, once past the very mean looking ISAF tank convoys (also to be avoided as they are a target) we collared a taxi driver to show us the way. A few minutes later we were at the hotel, to find with horror that it only served non-alcholic beer. After recovering from the shock of that we decided to split town the next morning, and to get an Afghan, a driver for the hotel, to come with us to show us the way out of town, onto and through the Jalabad road, which passes through an area that is supposedly more risky than the areas further North. After an early start next day ( 4am )past the huge UN and ISAF compounds, our guide, who I was happy to let drive, showed us to the new road which is still officialy closed and which we would never have found. The drive through the Kabul Gorge past Surobi in the early morning light perhaps the most picture perfect of the trip, all going well and us going at high speed until we had a complete blow out, writing off the tyre, not too far from J'bad itself. Tyre changed in double quick time we got a new tyre in Jbad, Cadie sat in the back of the cruiser looking (according to our driver) like Mullah Omar with only her eyes showing through her headscarf. 2 hours later we were at the Torkham border, one of the easiest (and yet also most chaotic) of the trip. I (Tom) had tea and biscuits with the customs man, suffering a lecture on Israel and Bush & Blair, whilst Cadie sat sweating in the back of the car, our very friendly and helpful driver - a lovely guy who made our last day in Af the most enjoyable - having been replaced by the meaningless armed guard (of at least 100 and incapable of hitting the backside of a barn door) from the Khyber rifles that the Pakistan authorities insist on to accompany you to Peshawar. In high spirits, and more relaxed than for days, we sped through the historical yet unspectacular Khyber pass and finally arrived onto the subcontinent.

It has been a fanstastic and wonderfully varied journey to get here, through the pretty mountains of Europe, the Eurasian madness of the Caucuses, to liberal Iran (well the people are even if the goverment isnt) with its beautiful islamic architecture, then across the harsh and terribly hot steppe to the grand adventure of the last month in the mountains. We really enjoyed our time in the Soviet stans, with Tajik the undoubted highlight. Afghanistan in truly peaceful times would, for men at least, no doubt top the lot,and now that we are in Pak we have done 6 out of the 7 stans.

Now in Chitral after a nice few days in Peshawar buying two persian rugs (we only wanted one, but the salesman was very persuasive) and getting other things done to the car. After 2 days in Dir waiting for the Lowari pass to be cleared of a recent landslide caused by the monsoon rains, we slipped over the very rocky and very rough road that is now open for some traffic and spent the night at the stunning Naghar fort (for free) as the guest of Prince Siraj and family. Sadly the food they served cant have been all that Royal as we now both have a bad tummy that is thankfully now clearing. We have now hooked up with Iqbal Jan, a guy who took Paul and me trekking when we visited in 1999, and who it is pleasing to see is still as much of likeable rogue as we was then. We are off to his house for dinner tonight. After that we will make our way slowly over to Gilgit, where we hope to do some trekking, by foot and by car, up to the Nanga Parbat or Rakaposhi basecamp (by foot) and the Deseoi plains, a high Alpine plain at the foot of Nanga Parbat, by car. However we are not in any rush, after three and a half's months of virtual constant travel we have definitely slowed down.

Photos are of: 'Across the Oxus', Camel train near Kunduz, Gypsy caravan, Salang Pass, Gulwali with freinds and Mullah Omar, Surobi in the early morning light on the Jbad road.