February 7, 1998
The Sweet And Sour Sides Of The Silk Road
Eric Ellis
THE consistency of Timboon Gourmet Feta Cheese isn't great at 5,500m above sea level. Tasty, 'tis true, but the thin air makes it a little hard to spread on crunchy Kashgar bagels. Our impromptu repast, as 20 Chinese, Uighurs, Pakistanis, Tajiks and Kirghizis were trying to dig our Landcruiser out of a Khunjerab Pass snowdrift, was the envy of the convoy of French, Singaporean and Japanese travellers piled up behind us, hoping to cross from China to Pakistan on the world's highest road - the famous Karakoram Highway across the Pamir, Karakoram, Hindu Kush and Himalaya ranges.
Humbling mountainscapes, a kaleidoscope of cultures and plenty of political intrigue: the highway is endlessly fascinating, but food is not its strong suit, at least while you are in the Chinese half of the trek.
Anyone contemplating the journey is advised to scrounge the best of what you find in China, such as the Kashgar bread, but bring the rest.
In fact, China doesn't score well generally on the Karakoram, the road that took 20 years and as many as 2,000 lives to build during the 1960s,'70s and '80s.
Travellers pay top dollar for worse than sub-standard food and lodging and surly guides, while the contempt the region's Han Chinese authorities have for the oppressed cultural minorities is astounding. Xinjiang Province feels like occupied territory.
The contrast with Pakistan is stark and it is actually a relief to cross the Khunjerab Pass for simple pleasures such as a hot shower, electricity and a welcoming smile.
Tip number two: start the trip in China. The old Silk Road trading route began in Xian in central China. With its famous terracotta warriors and good tourist-class hotels, Xian is a suitably historic and interesting place to begin the Karakoram odyssey.
The first step is to get to Urumqi (oo-room-chi), the capital of the Xinjiang (New Frontier) Auto-nomous Region. There is a two-day train from Beijing or chance your hand on Xinjiang Airlines' mostly Russian-built fleet.
Xinjiang is subject to a Uighur-based separatist campaign and Beijing hates foreigners going there, but to close it again would be a PR disaster. To discourage visitors, Beijing makes flights to Urumqi and Kashgar very expensive.
Urumqi is a dump, although a day's lay-over is essential to connect to Kashgar, a two-hour flight south in China's far south-west corner on the fringes of the Taklamakan Desert. Russian planes here are unavoidable and the Air Volga jet leased by Xinjiang may well have been the filthiest I have encountered but, admittedly, it got there.
Ancient Kashgar is a delight and it's easy to forget this is China. This was one of the Silk Road "capitals" and from here the old trade route branched south to Pakistan and India across mountain passes and west to fabled cities such as Tashkent, Samarkand and Bokhara and eventually to Tehran, Constantinople (now Istanbul) and then Europe.
Another tip is to time your trip for Kashgar's extraordinary Sunday bazaar. It's also a good place for those tasty bagels, naan breads and vegetables. Hotels are not Kashgar's strong suit and the best bet is the Kashgar Guesthouse (Xin Binguan), 3km out of town, with Lada taxis or pony carts as optional transport. A "suite" costs about $A50 and hot water depends on whether the town generator is working. Kashgar is also where our fun with Chinese authorities begins. Under treaty between Beijing and Islamabad, the Karakoram Highway opens between May 1 and November 30. But in Kashgar you will hear the first of 100 stories told by sour officials that the road is closed, the weather is too bad and that "independent travel is not advised" and so on.
Miraculously, the road seems to open and the weather to clear when US dollars are produced at the Chini Bagh office of China International Travel Service, controlled in Kashgar by the spooks of Beijing's Foreign Ministry. The right amount - about $US450 - produces a Toyota Landcruiser with driver (make sure the tyres aren't bald) and your name on a cross-border passenger manifest required by both sides' authorities.
The $US450 is a flat fee and all attempts to extract more money for more people should be resisted. Obviously, it is cheaper with more people and en route you will be constantly plied with requests from foreign cyclists and independent travellers to share the burdens of the journey, helping pull the car from the snow and so on.
Do as your conscience dictates, but remember, if you commit to a CITS car, much notice is taken of the all-important passenger manifest and that is prepared in Kashgar. Beijing has got it all locked up.
The road from Kashgar is in good condition and lightly travelled. It's about 420km to the snowy Khunjerab Pass and the lonely Pakistani border town of Sust. The first 80km are along a pleasant poplar-lined plain passing through Uighur villages, the mountains looming ominously and ever closer. Then the road begins to rise steadily through the seemingly prehistoric Ghez River valley and on to the snowline. It's very difficult to put down the camera. All around you are peaks of 6,000-8,000 metres and a dozen of the world's highest mountains are in the Karakoram neighbourhood - including K-2, second only to Everest.
It's good policy to leave Kashgar early - 8am will suffice - for the 290km run to the Tajik village of Tashkurgan, at 3,300m a freezing overnight stop either way.
Tashkurgan is where four coun-tries meet - China, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Tajikistan, with Kyrghizia and Kazakhstan an avalanche away. Once in Tash-kurgan, resist the temptation to drive on to Pakistan, about 120km away. Not that Tashkurgan has much going for it. The Pamir Hotel is the only place in town and for $A40 one
gets the privilege of a filthy room, unwashed bed linen and no power or hot water. The indolent staff grumble if you ask for candles and a thermos of hot water, which turns out to be lukewarm. And the hotel fare cannot be categorised as food. Tashkurgan is a good place to reset watches. Official China is on Beijing time, which in far west Xinjiang means everything is two hours later. Thus the sun doesn't set until 10pm or 11pm. Xinjiang has its own time, but not everyone sticks to it. Thus offices can open at 7am (9am in Beijing) or 9am. It gets trickier still when crossing to Pakistan, which is either another hour, or two in day-light saving time, behind Xinjiang time and four hours behind Beijing.
If you are being met in Sust by a tour operator, it's vital to clarify what time you are operating on. For groups, a good policy might be to have someone's watch on Xinjiang time, another's on Beijing and another again on Pakistan time. Tashkurgan to Sust in Pakistan is only 120km, but it can take all day if the Khunjerab Pass is snowed in.
Daylight is the only time to make this journey. Border formalities are completed at Sust and it's also where CITS leaves you to either chance the convoy of gaudy public buses for the journey south to Islamabad, or make private arrangements. A private deal is best, if you have the cash.
Sitara Travel of Rawalpindi handles the upmarket tour groups and ferries passengers from Sust to the comfortable Hunza View Lodge, where there are hot showers and clean rooms with stunning views over the Hunza Valley, the Shangri-La of James Hilton fame.
It takes three days to drive out of Pakistan's Northern Areas province, travelling along the Indus River valley through the towering gorges of Indus Kohistan. Here one sees villages so remote that it was only in recent years villagers stopped greeting the few arriving cars with grass and wheat, thinking they were some unusual breed of beast. This is also bandit territory and, while it's safe on the road, don't go off road unless under guard from local police.
At Besham, the Karakoram Highway branches into the main Islamabad road, or the trunk road which ends up in Peshawar, the unruly Pathan capital of the North West Frontier, near Afghanistan. A good 10 days should be set aside for the Karakoram, and even the camera-shy will wish they had their snapper. It truly is one of the world's great journeys.