Where does one begin a journey that brings you nearer to God, closer
to a (very big) rock, and farther from the chaos of what we know as life?
Rather then dwell on a philosophical answer to the question lets get right
to the point - for me the journey began from Landa Bazaar, Lahore.
For the uninitiated, Landa Bazaar is perhaps the cheapest place to buy
used clothes and, well, basically used everything. I was in the narrow
galleys and shady basements of the bazaar, looking for hiking boots, hats,
sleeping bags and knapsacks that it finally hit me where I am headed:
Rakaposhi Base Camp. Those three words were echoed in my head as I bargained
with a Pathan about the price of shoes. He wanted six hundred rupees -
I offered two hundred. "A little too much," exclaimed Sobia
from somewhere in the back, promptly enough the English was caught by
the Pathan and he became ever more adamant about his 'sahih price'. We
settled at three hundred for what seemed a decent pair of hiking shoes
- more on those later. We spent a good 4 to 5 hours scouring the breadth
of the bazaar, looking at things we thought we would never find anywhere
else in the world and bargaining nonetheless about the prices. Our group
walked out of Landa Bazaar armed with four pairs of boots, a lost bargain
on hats, a knife, and a little bit of disappointment for not finding knapsacks
which we hoped to find.
Running around the city looking for assortments that general stores sell
very rarely, we were known instantly as LUMS students. I chuckled silently
to myself as 50 people went to the poor chemist for 12 packets of ORS,
Water purifier, motion sickness tablets, Panadol and 'aisa karain keh
chap stick bhee dey deain'. Gathering our gear before the trek was a build
up to the eventual departure on May 13th. It's hard to describe what one
feels the first time you put on a full knapsack and feel the tug of the
straps on your shoulder. Eventually it finds its way to the roof of the
bus, but that first moment of trying it on and fixing the straps is ritualistic,
for me at least.
The commotion got worse as more and more and more and yet even more people
poured into the students' center. Someone needed rope, others needed help
tying a sleeping bag to their knapsack, yet others had forgotten batteries,
and I was just loosing my patience to get going. I was all packed up,
along with my lot of friends, and decided it was a good idea to get some
grub. The 24-hour bus journey was the last place to develop an appetite.
Rice and chicken sounded pretty decent to me; gulped down with 250 ml
of coke and a very satisfied Yasir Khokhar headed towards a 48-seater
bus. My big bag of good music was with me, along with the noise repressors;
my monstrosity headphones that I know can shut out the noise of 10 very
loud lunatics playing Antakhsri on the motorway. My refuge in music was
a consequence of not knowing 95% of the songs that were being ping-ponged
across the bus, some nice, others cheap and even though I would have not
fancied to admit at that moment, it was an enjoyable ride by all standards.
We made good time to Kallar Kahar. I munched on a burger and smoked the
moment through. It was rather late by then, and some people were already
looking tired, dozing off on the 2-hour ride! The stop over revitalized
most of them and once we started off again, the noise levels definitely
increased a few decibels. The next stop was going to be Besham, over 12
hours away. I spent most of my time idling between the view outside, the
view inside and the music. It seemed to be a lifetime away but when the
time finally came for the buffet breakfast, the river Indus to cool off
in, and eventually a bed to get 10 minutes of rest in, I was grateful
The bus that we had left behind in Lahore, which has been delayed due
to technical problems by an hour or so, joined us and it was good to see
the entire group together. We were almost half way to Gilgit; perhaps
it was the fatigue that wasn't making me bounce around, but I did get
a funny sensation as the miles clocked to the mark
Gilgit. A weather-beaten, excited and ready to eat a horse Khokhar reached
Gilgit by 10pm, almost an exact 24 hours from Lahore. The first thing
I did after getting off was to ask, "Where do we get food from?".
The equally snappy answer was: "No food, find". 140 people in
a hill town is perhaps what a blue moon is to us, and our particular hotel
was not equipped to serve us. The order of the night was to hunt for the
first available place that would serve me chicken karahi, if not that
then anything. Thinking from your stomach has its advantages; Kamran and
I were the first ones to find the hotel and order. Our curfew was at 11,
but we got back at midnight. A shortage of rooms had put the 'men' on
the roof and verandah, while the 'women' and 'children' got the rooms.
The spirit of adventure had already begun and after a few hours of idle
chatter with the rest, I decided it was time to retire. It took quite
a bit of effort to shut out the background noise.
I slept rather late, and woke at 5 am, must have gotten three hours of
sleep but I felt very fresh. The first one to the washroom as well and
that I believe is an achievement for any trip. I changed into trekking
gear - put on my tracks, booted up, got my shades and slapped on sun screen
- I could very well have been going to war. Packed my stuff and figured
that the backpack was evenly balanced. Breakfast was somewhat of a disappointment
and maybe I shouldn't have broken my habit of not having breakfast. The
soggy bread and egg was making itself felt half an hour later. This was
where the parties split up into their groups. Batura and Rakaposhi filled
one bus, while the rest were off to Hunza and Fairy Meadows. We took our
pictures, smoked our stuff and said farewell to city life. Once on the
bus, I handed down my favorite tape, "Rock the Poshi", and the
trek had started.