The Regal Internet Inn - Lahore is the kind of place you could easily spend a week, however I had only one month left on my Pakistani VISA and had many more things to see. I set off north just before 8am and after 10hrs of solid riding with 3x15mins breaks I had cruised passed Islamabad and arrived at the Rose Hotel at my final destination of Peshawar.
Ian a Scottish guy I was knocking about with in Lahore had already arrived from his overnight train and together with Kristian (Aussie) and Shane (Irish) we watched Liverpool and Tottenham draw 1:1. The people of this region are famous throughout Pakistan for their hospitality and they are right. People stop in the street to say hello and unlike India they not to try and sell you something or trick you.
I had read something about the way of Pashtun tribal people. They follow four basic laws. Melmastia means showing hospitality to all visitors without exception or reward.
If you are a guest you are treated like royalty with the host even giving his life to protect you. Badal is the second law and it means revenge. They are obliged to avenge an insult even if it was accidental. One Pashtun saying goes "revenge is a dish which tastes better served cold". Funny, I always thought that was the Klingons. Nanwatai refers to the absolute submission of loser to a winner at the end of a dispute. This submission to the winner is said to restore honor to the defeated man. Finally there is Nang, meaning honor and particularly in respect to women. A Pashtun man has a duty to defend the honor of his wife (any one of the 5). This may be violated by as little as a glance in her direction.
On the 400km journey I had noticed a change of western dress to the traditional style dress and a rapid reduction of women out in public.
Here is my estimation of the region.
Men in Traditional dress = 95%
Woman in public = 5%
Men with beards = 90%
Men with other facial hair = 5%
Since I left Amritsar I stopped shaving and now with almost one weeks growth I feel like scratching my face off. I heard that it makes you less intimidation to the locals and I am thinking of getting a traditional outfit for my further journey.
We met a local man outside the hotel by the name of Prince who said that he could take us to the Khyber pass and into the Tribal control regions of the Khyber Agency.
This region is controlled by the Afridi tribe with only the 100 or so chiefs able to vote and represent the people in the Pakistani Government. However, the Government has absolutely no authority whatsoever in this any any other Frontier region. We had heard of this Prince bloke by fellow travelers so the risk did not seem too high. After some hard bargaining the price seemed good and the following morning we set off in the car, swinging by to collect an armed escort. See, just outside the Government controlled city of Peshawar Pakistani law gives way to Tribal law and an armed escort is required. Of course I felt a little nervous but also excited as we progressed up the barren mountain roads and towards the Khyber Pass. The houses we passed did not resemble houses, more like high walled mud forts with gun barrel slits for windows. Most of the locals we passed were armed with AK47s, but they still waved and smiled as we drove on passing the famous Khyber railway built by the British and recently put out of action by flooding. There was and is so much history in this region, with the Brits, Russian and Pakistan's trying to get control, and no-one succeeding for very long, such is the bond and resolve of the tribal people. Now tribal law rules and they have their own security force. We were told to keep a low profile for foreigners are not really supposed to enter.
On reaching the Pass I climbed to the side and had my picture taken with the insignias of all the British regiments that had served during the wars. I saw the old British fort, the one built by the Sheiks and the anti-tank concrete smooth pillars placed on the old road to stop a potential German invasion of India during WWII. Past the Pass-propper was the final check point high on a hill for those not entering into Afghanistan. From the check point you could see down the old Durand line and into Afghanistan and to the boarder crossing to the trucks waiting to enter.
Here is a picture just for one friend. Lee Young!!! Yes there is a Karzi up on the Khyber and here's a pic to prove it. After heading back into Government controlled territory we visited what is called Smugglers Bazaar, and then into the Illegal part of the bazaar where all kinds of drugs, foreign currency counterfeit notes and other naughty stuff were being peddled alongside the smacked out heroine addicts. Prince (our guide) took us to see the Tribal leader of the region who welcomed us with a warm smile and before long we had green tea while he showed us his impressive gun collection of AK47s, machine guns, rocket launchers and Israeli night-sight sniper riffles. Of course myself and Ian could not resist taking some snaps. The leader was a calm and softly spoken man that reminded me of Henry VIII.
Gout in his ankles and pretty fat. He was very pro American and had his desk set up like he was the President of the United States. The room had a big plasma TV and lots of chintz from visiting foreigners, fluffy toys and Lady Di pictures, a very bazaar setting as we posed with his guns. He offered us to shoot some rounds into the wall in his back yard, but for 1000Rs the price was too much. As we chatted his hench men came in with phone calls and counterfeit US$ for us to buy, but I did not, Then out of the blue he pulled out a bag of heroine and mixed it with the less pure brown-sugar and took a snort rapidly followed by his asthma inhaler. We did not feel threaten at anytime, but the whole situation was very bazar.
It was in the middle of the day so during fasting nothing can go in your mouth, clearly this rule does not apply to things going up your nose, snorting class-A drugs is fine, but just you try eating that cheese Sandwich me-old-china and you're done for. We made our polite goodbye and headed off to the next destination of Princes "Best day of your life" tour. Pushing open a rusty iron gate revealed and illegal but tolerated gun factory. Men and boys on the floor and standing lathe machines churned out replica working AK47, Barrette pump actions and pistols. For 100RS a round how could I resist. I had one pistol shot and 3 shotgun shots. It was the first time I have shot a gun and of course it was fun. The last stop of the day was a little more refined and less odd.
The Goods Truck painting yard wall full of old UK, Japanese and French goods trucks in various stages of being rebuilt and painted in the very distinctive Pakistani style. Lots of fancy over the top murals and bright colours. When you see them on the road even more additions and modifications have been made by the drivers. They beat British public transport and trucks hands down on creativity and are clearly the pride and joy of the owners and drivers.
By the way, please try not to worry out there. I am careful and do check out the security situation of each place I go before I enter. Also on a more mellow note. I got a new 6mega pixel camera off an English fella who came overland through Russia and the Stans with his Kayak. It was just in time for my phone camera is seriously on the blink and it's only a matter of days before it pops it completely.
The next day I set off just before 7am. My destination was the mountain/valley village of Grom or something like that just south of Chitral approximately 245KM north of Peshwar. Kristian the Aussie guy said he made it in 10hrs in the opposite direction, but he was on a Honda 750cc with fat off road tires. At this time in the morning the sun was not properly in the sky and it was bloody freezing. I had to stop and redress putting several t-shirts and my gloves. After about 100KM the road tuned to the left and I was stopped by the police. Apparently I needed another armed escort to go into the Chitral region.
Off we set but about 10KM on there was a change of escort as we passed again into new territory. Each time I had to change motorbike escort I was losing precious time. Unfortunately the next guy wanted to ride side by side and chat. Mainly about me and being married and wanting to go to England. It was the slowest 15KM ever. As I waited for the next security change over a local had a 15min attempt to convert me to Islam, I explained I was very open but 15mins was just not gonna cut it. The next guards appeared. Two very burly bearded men well over 6foot each.
Seeing them both squeezing onto a bike smaller then mine make the bike look like a toy and them not very safe. Like Brian Blessed and the Honey Monster on a children's bike. They encouraged me to ride in front so they would not have to keep looking back to check. I road off some 200m in-front of them for a few KM. As I rounded a bend I saw a cloud of dust in my mirror and they did not appear. I went back to find them both bleeding on the floor the bike hanging off the edge of the road. It was not long before a crowd was gathered, I've no idea where from, there was no-one when I had passed. One of the policemen tried to blame me for the accident saying I was going to fast for them to keep up. At this point I figured silence was the best defense. I was not going to take any crap for two over sized men on a badly maintained bike with no grip on the tires trying to take corners too fast. I got taken half way back to the previous check point and was appointed a new escort and off I went again. This went on for hrs until eventually they lost some interest and I was back on my own after being assure there was no Taliban in this area. The next check point I had to stop again and wait 45mins. Although all the coppers were very friendly and by no way threatening I was getting frustrated by the slow pace and my lost time to make it to Chitral. I was though nice to go a bit slower and take in the mountains and hills, the rivers and trees. This part of Pakistan was amazing I really had no idea that the country was so scenic. During my 45min delays at the next station (no power in radio to call for next escort hand-over) I was again in a discussion on Islam and conversion. This copper was very intelligent and not just a missionary with a one track mind, I really enjoyed his company. By now I was starving, if you remember there is nothing to eat during the day in the Holy month of Ramadan. We talked about marriage (of course) the Koran and alcohol. Then another police officer arrived and offered me a gift of Hashish. Funny how drinking is bad and eating during the day not allowed but smoking weed is fine. I of course declined the offer telling them that not only do I not inhale but I don't participate at all. We swapped addresses and I promised I would do all that I could to help him get his VISA and passport to visit England and start his new career as a painter and decorator. The next motorbike escort I had broke down just as we set off. Luckily for them I had my tool kit and with a bit of insulation tape and my pocket knife we had their oil pipe fixed and off we went again. The day was coming to close and between the shadows of the mountains it was getting very cold. There was no chance now of making it to Chitral for the night so the next possible option was Dir. I had said before I left Peshwar that I don't want to stay in a place with a name like Dir , "Dir, why did you stay there?". I arrived 15mins before the end of the days fasting and showered and changed into my pajama like outfit put on my hat and went for a walk.
Not one single person even looked at me, I've done it, I've gone "local". Each evening at the end of the fast an air-raid Syrian goes off followed by the call to prayer. The night air is filled with the singing of the head of the Mosque, it really does sound very mystical and exotic to be in a Islamic country and see and hear and taste the difference from back home.
The longer I spend in Pakistan the more I like it, I find the people polite, friendly respectful and honest. The streets are clean, hygiene is high and respect for each other, foreigners and themselves is high. Of course when I say people I do of course mean men, since I have not met or talked to a single women to be able to judge what they are like. If was a visiting alien species it is possible that I could think that humans reproduced asexually by budding off a new bearded man. Also I don't want to get drawn into the trap of women's rights, though my gut feeling does say I would not like to never feel the suns rays on my skin ever again or return someone's smile after the age of 12. Also the longer I spend in Pakistan the more I realize that the partician from India was the right thing to do and Ghandi was bonkers to want to keep Indians and Pakistanis together. See the Indians see the partician as losing something, where as the Pakistanis see it as gaining an independent homeland free of the Indians. Islam is not just a religion it is a way of life. Unlike most Christians who top up on God points on a Sunday then go about their normal unchristian lives until the next Church Session. Here it's 24/7, everyone does it without exception and it seems to really work for a stable society.
The drive from Dir to Chitral was a real struggle, over 10,000 feet through the mountain pass on roads which were dust and shale. As I looked on up into the barren Pakistani/Afghan mountains I could not help wonder if Mr Laden was hiding up there and how I could get a severed head back in a pickle jar to claim my $20M. On reaching the pass I rested for about 30mins chatting to a police men that must have the coldest loneliest job in the world. The ride back down the other side was had going, switch-back after switch back taking the best part of the day going no faster than 10km/h. Once I reached the valley I was able to speed up and made it into Chitral about 3pm and waited patiently for fasting to end so I could eat. Again the town was clean and there were zero women. The next day I registered with the police and had my bike serviced for about 8p and off I went heading for my original destination from when I set off 2 days ago. Heading to the Rumbour valleys to a village called Grom. About 20km outside Chitral I took a right and then once over the ancient suspension bridge I was in the valley.
I passed the last of the Muslim villages and headed down into the forbidden and secret valleys of the Khalash people. These are an ancient people, with their own religion (one god, 12 deities and goat sacrifice). A few hours later I really did come to realize that this was a special place a kind of an odd anomaly not only in Pakistani, but perhaps the planet. A forgotten valley, people waring traditional colourful clothes, women in public, all smiling. I heard that about 100 foreigners come hear in a year, perhaps less. With no Muslims and mosques and hidden in a lush valley it was the perfect place to chill out for a couple of days. The local man I stayed with even brews his own wine and snapps.
This is the only place in Pakistan that Alcohol is not illegal. With Ian and a Spanish fella we shared 1.5litres of his home-brew which normally would score 3/10, but on this occasion scored 7/10. In the middle of the night I threw up an spend the next day bed-ridden with a very bad stomach. I'll never find out what it was but today I am fine again today. The little villages of the hidden valleys are really worth a visit, especially if you are a female visitor to Pakistan for here you can be uncovered and respected. I am unsure how long it will take for this unique culture to be eroded and slowly converted to Islam, but it's sure to happen.
Tomorrow I head in the general direction over another mountain pass to Gilgit, then down south down the KK-Highway to Islamabad.
Here's a little video I made of my adventures in and around the Khyber-pass.
After 3 days of continuous riding of 10hrs each day I have found that the molecular structure of my arse has change and is now made of granite. I'm presently sat on my bed in the Azad Muslim Hotel in the centre of Quetta. At 300Rs a night you'd expect it to be a bit posh but in fact to say it is a shit-hole would be an offense to any self-respecting shit-holes out there. I finally collected my Iranian VISA from Lahore after 3 months waiting. 
I have decided that nothing happens by accident. There must be a pretty good reason for my 3 months delay in getting home. Like I said I got my Iranian VISA, it took me no less than 5 visits to the Consulate until I finally had it in my passport and I could believe it was finally happening. 
Now I only had 6 days to make it several 1000 KM to the boarder. My Pakistan VISA expires at the end of October so I had to get my skates on, talk about cutting it fine. I figured it would take me 5 days to get to Iran leaving only one day spare for any unseen problems or a possible rest in one town for a day. The first days ride to Multan was not too bad, only 6 hrs of riding. Multan is the kind of place that you could easily spend a few days. There is a lot of history and it was a Hindu place of pilgrimage and is now an important Islamic one with and old fortress and quite a few mausoleums. However, I could not stop I had a deadline to meet. 
I badly misjudged the next leg of the journey from Multan to Sukkar. It turned out to be over 400km, perhaps 475km. I have no desire to ride anywhere at night, but the sun was failing and I still had 80km to do. As the sun went down the sky filled with 1million and one tiny moths that really did not help with visibility. I finally made it into town and found a hotel that was both clean and safe and had not a bad price.
Although I was still getting free cups of tea and meals the occurrences of such was getting less frequent. In the morning I could really have done with not riding, my body was sore and I had what I think is the beginning of some sciatic pain down my left buttock. However, I did not have the luxury of resting. After I stretched out I set off heading north into the hills and towards Baluchistans only City, Quetta. 
The roads so far have been good and adding to the fact that firestarters cruising speed has increased from 55km/h to 80km/h I was making good time. I had a fair bit of roadkill to avoid. Every few KM a flattened dog would be either fresh or rotting and being picked at by birds. I keep being asked if I am a Muslim and since I bought an English version of the Koran in Islamabad, telling people this seams to ease them a lot and smiles follow. I am on the 3rd Surra (Chapter). So far I find that alcohol is not all bad, but there are more bad points than good, and if you drink now you'll get no booze in the Thereafter (afterlife). Also if you're a good boy, you will have many mates/wives in heaven, all of which will be "clean" i.e no poohing or weeeing or menses. 
One big difference I have noticed is that the Koran is said to be the "actual" word of God sent down, and not written by "people" as are the previous Scriptures. It's said to have no contradictions and to be unchanged since it was dictated to Mohammed's scribes. Also tattoos are not allowed. One interesting thing I have also read is that back in the days when it was written it clearly states that a woman should be financially looked after by her husband if and when he divorces her. This was WAY ahead of it's time when we consider this is a relatively new addition to the laws of modern Western society. With only the Koran for company in the evening I could be fully converted by the time I reach Austria.
Did you know that all actresses are from the state of Punjab and that all of them without exception are prostitutes? Well neither did I. See no other women in Pakistani society could and would be able to bear the level of shame brought down on themselves by appearing on the screen, dancing and singing and jigging about their bits for all to see. In face none of the actresses can dance very well and the singing is dubbed. What's more peculiar is that all the actresses are over 40, pushing 50. 
They are all revered and worshiped by the masses. Very odd considering the shame and disgust that this would bring on a "normal' woman. The formula I think could only work here. A society homo-gender (i.e. Men rule and have all responsibility and make all the decisions), which is deeply sexually suppressed worshiping dancing whores that look like someone's fat drunk aunty at a wedding. I think they are seen more like eccentric Aunties and because of this it makes it all ok. To finish matters off, all the dance choreographers are super grotesque camp men. The mind boggles.
Now I'm 1700m above sea level its getting a bit chilly making me glad that I have got my Afghan blanket with me for warmth. I'm still unsure if will head out to Dalbandin tomorrow or rest for my extra day. Quetta appears to be interesting from what I can see so far. Lots of crazy bazaars, it has a really wild-west kind of feeling with ultra conservative Muslims. 
Indeed it's not far over the boarder to Kandahar where the whole Taliban story started. In fact they used Quetta as a spring-board to spread the word into Pakistan. On a closing note Pakistan lost their world cup qualifier with Iraq 7:0. No one here noticed a thing, the radar did not make a beep. It has to be cricket.
