Read Part 1 of Darren McQuoid’s expedition to Pakistan. Accompanying Darren were Ben Stookesberry, Chris Korbulic, Phil Boyer and Rafa Ortiz.

Why Pakistan?
I certainly had plenty of reasons not to choose Pakistan. It’s almost exactly half way around the world from California, and coupled with a high priced ticket was my loathing for sitting in planes. This journey would require three flights adding up twenty-two hours in the air, followed by two days of driving. The previous year I swore that my yearly international pilgrimage would never again be to a cold destination.

If you believe the news in America, it is suicidal to travel to Pakistan. The seemingly endless struggle with India over Kashmir continues, and international “War on Terror” continues Afghanistan, with the US launching unsanctioned drone attacks into Pakistan.
The Marriott bombing happened weeks before our flight, so this is what everyone thought about Pakistan .  I was on the fence about the trip, leaning away from it, until I received this compelling letter from Roland Stevenson , who had lived in Islamabad for three years while his father worked in the embassy.

“Without getting too philosophical, this is a critical time in Pakistan’s history. They’re on the brink of Talebanization, dealing with a bad economy, etc. It sounds like a war-zone when you watch CNN or read about it in the papers, but I hope the trip will be able to show a large number of people that most people in Pakistan are peaceful, friendly, and caught between extreme political forces from both Afghanistan and the US. At the end of the day, the trip’s about taking the opportunity to relate to people as normal human beings and share stories of Americans and Pakistanis having fun together with the world.

We could go in and take a bunch of pictures at the arms market in Dera-Adem-Khel, dress up in shalwar kameez and turbans, and talk about how extreme we are because we’re on the front line in Pakistan…. but I don’t buy that angle at all.

 If we succeed at anything, I hope it is to run a safe expedition and draw some attention to the beauty and power of the Karakoram and Himalayan drainages. In my opinion, the story isn’t about war, guns, and insurgency, its’ huge mountains, epic rivers, and good relationships”

I couldn’t resist and bought my ticket, as did Ben Stookesberry, Chris Korbulic, Rafa Ortiz and Phil Boyer. Roland was already working a rafting trip in India and would meet us in Islamabad. We would fly into Islamabad, drive twelve hours to Chilas, and then another nine to Skardu. Despite being sandwiched between Afghanistan and India, the people of the Northern Areas known for being peace loving and friendly.

Unusual to our international expeditions, this one wasn’t about a first descent. We were looking at the Indus River from Skardu to the confluence near Gilgit. It was a hundred and seventy kilometer section that had been run before, with the first descent done in 1989. A German team also claimed the first descent in 2007 and 2008. We shared many a laugh because of the reference on their blog which talks incessantly about “taming”, “mastering” and “no mistakes”.

Phil and I had the fastest flights possible, with no layovers. It took us about thirty hours door to door, arriving in Islamabad early in the morning. We were glad to be met by Roland, who quickly took us to Mr. Zakaria’s house where we organized our gear into two vans, got breakfast and hit the road.
The mountains and culture were enough to make the drive engaging. We drove through the day and into the night, finally stopping in Chilas, got up early again the next morning and hit the road. While still on the Karakoram Highway we stopped to enjoy Nanga Parbat.

It seemed like we were in the middle of nowhere, then our driver Rashid pulled out his cell and called home.

While back in the states Ben and I had ourselves convinced that in November the river would be low…between 5,000 and 10,000cfs. Here we are at the confluence of the Gilgit and Indus, and it looked like somewhere around 15,000cfs.

One factor that helped my motivation was the thought of being in the Karakoram and Himalaya, so I had too get lots of pictures of the mighty mountains. This place will make you feel small.

The road reminded me of the Cal-Salmon road, just a lot longer and a several hundred feet higher above the river. With lots of traffic too. The driving was honestly the most dangerous part of the whole trip.

The restaurants aren’t boring either. We stopped in for lunch halfway to Skardu and while getting lunch, tried to ignore a goat being slaughtered next door. The days end early at these elevations in November, but every evening was beautiful.

We made it! After four days of constant travel we were in Skardu. We quickly secured a hotel and went to the bazaar to shop for expedition supplies.  Once we secured enough food and some fuel we went back to the hotel and crashed out, still not sure of our exact plan for the following day, put on the Indus or secure a jeep to drive us to Askole, and run the Braldu down into the Indus?

During our second dinner in Pakistan we debated the merits of two options. One was to put on the Indus the following day and after completing the desired section, explore rivers in the Hunza Valley region. The second was renting jeep that would drive us up to Askole, where the road ends near the beginning of the K2 trek.

Unfortunately during the night Chris got sick, and we all hoped it was just a quick case of food poisoning, and he rested while we mastered breakfast at the hotel.

    During breakfast the next morning the group generally consented that once we put on the Indus we wouldn’t make the long drive back up to Skardu, so it would be fortuitous to explore the area while we were here. It would be a gamble, but it was a group decision so we finished taming our meal and strolled around town while Roland worked on engaging a jeep, because our vans wouldn’t make it up the rough road to Askole. We hoped to explore a tight canyon on the Braldu River.

   Our initial jeep findings were too expensive, and when we found out it had no reverse we were glad we hadn’t rented one as we pushed it back out into the street.

   Once we secured a “jeep”, a sweet old Toyota Land Cruiser, we loaded it up with all six of us plus the driver, our boats and overnight gear, and were in route to Askole. On the way we stopped in Shikar for lunch and were swarmed by what seemed to be the whole community.

   We enjoyed the ever present dahl and chai, and hit the road again. The road continued to wind up the valley, but the going was slow. We were continually in awe of the scenery. Occasionally friendly locals would hop on for a quick ride between towns.

      Coming around a corner we passed a group of women and who shocked us with the unmistakable hand across the throat signal, followed by spitting on the ground in our direction. This is the ultimate Balti insult, and the reason became clear as we drove past a school fenced by a cement wall, adorned with the slogans “I hate America” and “Down with America”. We were obviously passing Taliban funded madrassas, a growing problem for villages too small to receive government schools.

   This was the only negative interaction we’d had so far, and shrugged it off as we motored through several more friendly towns before reaching a military check post. In an effort to hinder movement of the extremist groups, there many active military and police check points.

    To date on the trip all the check points had been brief stops to record passport and visa numbers, but this post is on the single route to K2. The only tourists they are used to are climbers or trekkers, and for both activities a permit was expected. Technically we didn’t need one, but they weren’t sure about that and treated us to tea while making some calls…and more calls. Eventually our pleasant hosts gave us the thumbs up, except that a quarter mile down the road was a police check point, and they would ask for the permit and didn’t have a phone, so we might be able to talk our way through. During the whole process we checked out the area and noted the river really looked too low anyways.

  We decided to cut our losses and head back to Skardu and put in on the Indus, and passed a rough night with Phil recovering while Rafa and Ben got hit by the flu.

   We headed to the Indus River oblivious to the stir we had created yesterday.

 On the way we took a break to see how the locals go fishing. I can’t imagine how cold this must be!

    We were packing our boats and overnight gear when Roland disappeared. We hoped he was just walking around and finished up, but right as we were fully geared up he returned with bad news. Because of our stop last night, all the local police knew we were in the area, and to cover their rear ends, wanted to make sure we had a permit. They told us we would have to talk to the local District Controller, so we were forced to abort for the day and schedule a meeting on the next.

This worked out well for me, because I ended up with the flu and spent the following day purging while our permit was drafted by the local authorities. They were more than helpful with the process and after one more night in Skardu we were destined to finally put on the Indus.

  To finally be on the water…

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