June 10. We wake to a bleu sky and it takes a while before the first puffy clouds develop.
Grey isn’t having any premonitions but I think it is going to be a good day. We all decide that shandur pass would be a good goal for the day with the town of Mastuj a good alternative. We launch at midday and it takes more then an hour to get to cloud base at 4500 meters. That sets the trend for the day. Somehow it takes us 6 hours to fly 80Km. The scenery is spectacular and the cloud base rises to 5500 which is not quiet enough to pop over to the shandur pass. On the way I spot a group of ibex at about 4000meters. I whip out my video camera and try to get some footage and almost kill myself in the process. Flying close to the terrain with one hand while in thermal and trying to point a camera at some goats is not a good idea. Due to the cloud we cant get over the mountain range that separates us from the valley that runs up to the shandur pass. We have lost Mukrim early in he flight and then Dimitry disappears after about 70km. Grey and I are together at 80km were we are a bid confused as to where the town of mastuj is situated. After a bid of calculating we decide that it is right underneath us. We are both pretty tired at this stage and Grey is happy to go and land. That is till I tell him that it is only another 17km to make the hundred. It is six o’clock by then and the shadows in the valley are getting longer. We squeeze out 4 more thermals and make it to the one hundred and one kilometre. We top up one more time and glide back the whole 15km to land on the polo ground where the usual crowd welcomes us. We hug and get our cameras out to film each other and the crowd. I have decided on a routine for those crowd landings. I ask if there is somebody that can speak English and get that person to do the crowd control. I ask for space to spread and pack my glider and get everything in the bag asap. Then it is time for some fouling around and finding out if there is a place to stay. This time the English speaking person also becomes our host. He guides us through the labyrinth of small fields and irrigation channels to his family house followed by a part of the crowd. Grey and I are exhausted and would have loved to eat and hit the sack but our host was much to happy to have some company. Dinner got served and I fell asleep before the thee arrived leaving Grey to do all the small talk. At 10pm I use a bid off my Dutch bluntness to make our host leave so we can crash.
June 11. We have to get up at 5am to catch the first jeep back to Chitral. The Mastuj- Booni road is under reconstruction so the ride is even more hair raising than usual. With 14 people in a land cruiser we are like sardines in a can and there would be no escape if we would end up going over the edge. Accidents don’t seem to happen very often though and one has to have a little bid of fait. We arrive back at our hotel after 5 hours to find Mukrim and Dimitri already there. They both landed a few kilometres short of Mastuj and stayed with some locals for the night. The rest of the day we wash, sleep and eat and recharge all our batteries for tomorrows flight.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
31May One aspect of being in a Muslim country is that there is no women visible on the street or anywhere we get invited for that matter. The few that we see cover their face with their scarf as soon as men arrive or if adhering to the stricter Sunni group they wear the full burka. The streets are full of men and for us there is definitely something missing. We are amazed by the kindness of this people. Where ever we are people go out of their way to help us. We get invited for cups of thee and people on the streets greet and shake your hand. We may get charged a higher rate for certain food or services but there is non of the money oriented aggression that prevails in many other countries. I really have to pinch myself sometimes to check if I’m not dreaming. If only life at home could be so pleasant.
Today we have set ourselves the task to try and fly around Trichmir, the big mountain that dominates the valley towards the north. The weather is again perfect and all three of us are able to get to 5500 meter before we cross the valley onto the foot hills of this 7700 meter giant. About an hour into the flight we lose contact with each other. Some high clouds move in from the south-west and the top of the mountain disappears. We are all flying with our bivi gear so that we can camp out if necessary. I fly along the south face of Trichmir and fly across some spectacular glacier landscape on a easterly heading to end up in Booni, another Para Gliding base camp. The sky looks threatening towards the west and I decide against camping out. Again the unbelievable kindness of the people blows me away. I land on a soccer field and one of the young boys there takes charge of the situation. He makes contact with the local pilots and organizes a ride into the village for me. Once at his house he produces a huge dish with mulberries, which are in season at the moment and we talk about al kinds of things till one of the local pilots shows up to take me to a place to spent the night. I get fed and we talk paragliding and politics till after dark. The scene is paradisiacal, the stars are out, the honey suckle is spreading its strong fragrance trough the garden, the frogs are croaking and there is the noise of water running through the irrigation channels. I sit in the dark in this walled garden for quiet some time before going to bed and feel totally at peace.
June 1 .In the morning at seven I get woken up for breakfast. Muzafara runs a school and needs to go but I can stay as I wish. The sky is totally bleu apart from a few early thermal clouds. For a moment I regret not having landed in the mountains to be able to fly back to chitral today but then I wouldn’t have had the encounter with these nice people. Plenty of time for flying. The bus ride back is spectacular. The landscape is barren but for the places were people have diverted the water to irrigate the land. Channels, kilometres long, have been carved out and build on the mountainsides to bring the water to the fields. They have clearly been doing this for centuries as the villages and orchards are full of big trees. Higher up in the valley the fields are still green with growing wheat and barley but on the desend back to Chitral the grains are riper and the fields look like a patchwork of greens and yellows. Outside the alluvial fans that are used for irrigation the land is rocky and under constant attack of the elements. The erosion is visible everywhere and the river is running black with silt.
I come back to the hotel around lunch time to find Grey already there. He has had an adventure of his own, landing in some mountain village and staying with a local family. He caught a jeep ride back to the hotel. Mukrim arrives back later in the afternoon, having flown to Booni. He top landed on the local paragliding launch site and camped out but decided to fly down in the morning and catch the bus back to the hotel as he run out of battery power on his GPS.
June 2. A big cyclone in the Bay of Bengal is playing havoc with the weather and it looks like we are in for a few non flyable days. We need a day anyway to do some domestic chores, do some Emailing and enjoy walking through the town and soak up the local pace of life.
June 3. Grey is having a craving for toast and jam. The local breakfast of fried egg and chapatti is not agreeing with him. He has a point, as the eggs are swimming in cooking fat. We pay a visit to the one luxury hotel in town and sit at a table, eat with knife and fork and sip black thee from an almost un chipped cup. The place has 45 rooms and is almost empty. White toast, scrambled eggs, butter and jam and black thee for 2.5 $US doesn’t break the bank and gives our stomach a break in the morning. As the day doesn’t look flyable we organise ourselves a excursion to a valley about 40 km from chitral where the non Muslim tribe of the Kalash people live. Much of their culture is being preserved in the newly build community centre with museum, medical centre and school. The local building stile hasn’t been replaced by concrete yet and the place looks rather idyllic. I guess the biggest attraction are the women, as they dress in very colourful costumes and don’t hide behind scarves or burkas. Our visit was a bid to short to get a good look around but we had to take the last taxi back otherwise Grey would have ended up sleeping with one of these girls.
Jun 4. The weather will be upset by this cyclone for the coming days. Today was rainy and the temperature has dropped. Mukrim has made friends with the local bank manager who is very interested in our activities. In the evening he comes by to invite us to his place for lunch tomorrow. The day passes with eating, a visit to the internet café and an attempt to rewire the GPS cable so Grey and Mukrim can down load their track logs. Grey, yesterday, got a refund for our airline tickets for the flight from Islamabad to Chitral. Later he got a call that they gave us to much money and if we could please come and return the difference. Seen as that all the people seem so honest around here we popped in this afternoon to sort it out. We got the royal treatment with cups of thee and cake and biscuits and a nice chat with the PIA airlines manager and we returned the 600 rupees. It is clear that the people around here are desperate for tourist to return. The repeated request is that we please spread the message how beautiful and safe it is in this part of Pakistan once we return to our home countries.
June 5. I dropped off my Icebreaker jersey at the tailor yesterday to get new cuffs put on. As I went to check my Email this morning I picked it up next doors. When I asked him how much it cost he said it was up to me. He must have spend at least an hour unpicking and re-sewing the cuffs. When I gave him 150 rupees he only took 50, less then a New Zealand dollar.
The sky cleared in the morning and we decide to get our gear ready so that we can go for a flight after the bankers lunch. Im not feeling to great today as my head cold is really breaking through so I return to bed as Grey and Mukrim get picked up.
June 8. Grey and Mukrim never got to fly. Lunch turned into an afternoon affair as was to be expected. Next day I still didn’t feel that great so I stayed in bed till the afternoon. Grey and Mukrim went up for a flight and ended up in Booni, about 60km to the north, caught up with the local pilots there and got the last bus back to the hotel. June the 7th The weather is very unstable. The sky is bleu in the morning but very quickly the cumulus develop and by lunchtime there is big cumulo nimbus cells which bring thunder and rain. Just as we are ready to get in the taxi, Dimitri , a pilot from the Ukraine, walks into our hotel so now we are four We decide to try and fly a triangle. First we fly south as that is where the thunderstorms seem to develop earlier. The cloud base is low at 4000 meter and we hop from ridge to ridge. By the time we get to the fourth ridge, the one that separates us from the kalash village, the clouds get to threatening and we turn around. We fly back to the launch area and top land in the hope that it may clear later in the afternoon. On the way we loose Dimitri but he lands safely back at the hotel. The remnants of the palace on the launch area are guarded by a young family. We get offered thee and chapatti and we try to understand each other talking with our hands and feet. The weather doesn’t clear and we decide to stay the night. Doors get unlocked and we enter the main room of what once was a substantial walled complex. Inside we find some epoch furniture, a fireplace and mirrors on the wall all covered with a thick layer of dust. We drink more thee, go for a walk up the ridge to stretch our legs and get served dinner at eight. Not a bad spot for a first paragliding bivi.
At night it rains and the wind howls around the buildings but in the morning the sky is clear. Dimitri comes up with the taxi and after a breakfast of thee and chapatti we are ready to launch at half past ten. The conditions are the same as yesterday but we start two hours earlier. We have the same flight plan and I don’t mess around this time. With the base at 4000 I don’t even top out the thermals and lead the way hopping from ridge to ridge. We lose Dimitri again but the three of us stay fairly close together and help each other along. The landscape is wild and at some stage in the flight as we squeeze over a little saddle in the ridge, the ground falls away and we look down sheer cliffs several hundred meters high. The clouds thicken again and by the time we fly over the kalash valley the sun is gone and at times we fly through light snow. I push my luck trying to get over one more ridge but arrive to low and get hit by the rotor. By the time I get back to the wind ward side of the valley Iv lost a lot of height and have to do some serious scratching to gain a few hundred meters. In the mean time Grey has been waiting near cloud base and decides to fly back to the main chitral valley. Mukrim didn’t get the last climb and is hugging the walls to get out to the main valley as well. This is the place we visited by car only a few days ago so we know the lay of the land. Once in the main valley the sun is back but there is a 15km wind that is scattering the thermals. Grey and I land at the same spot and as usual a crowd forms in no time. At first there is no English speakers but then a big pick-up truck pulls up with two engineers from the local marble mine. They are on their way to Chitral, so our return ride is secured. The ten steps to the truck was even less then the walk to the launch site this morning. Allah must be with us on this trip! The weather forecast is good for tomorrow, maybe it is going to be the big one…… PS uploading photos is taking to long
Today we have set ourselves the task to try and fly around Trichmir, the big mountain that dominates the valley towards the north. The weather is again perfect and all three of us are able to get to 5500 meter before we cross the valley onto the foot hills of this 7700 meter giant. About an hour into the flight we lose contact with each other. Some high clouds move in from the south-west and the top of the mountain disappears. We are all flying with our bivi gear so that we can camp out if necessary. I fly along the south face of Trichmir and fly across some spectacular glacier landscape on a easterly heading to end up in Booni, another Para Gliding base camp. The sky looks threatening towards the west and I decide against camping out. Again the unbelievable kindness of the people blows me away. I land on a soccer field and one of the young boys there takes charge of the situation. He makes contact with the local pilots and organizes a ride into the village for me. Once at his house he produces a huge dish with mulberries, which are in season at the moment and we talk about al kinds of things till one of the local pilots shows up to take me to a place to spent the night. I get fed and we talk paragliding and politics till after dark. The scene is paradisiacal, the stars are out, the honey suckle is spreading its strong fragrance trough the garden, the frogs are croaking and there is the noise of water running through the irrigation channels. I sit in the dark in this walled garden for quiet some time before going to bed and feel totally at peace.
June 1 .In the morning at seven I get woken up for breakfast. Muzafara runs a school and needs to go but I can stay as I wish. The sky is totally bleu apart from a few early thermal clouds. For a moment I regret not having landed in the mountains to be able to fly back to chitral today but then I wouldn’t have had the encounter with these nice people. Plenty of time for flying. The bus ride back is spectacular. The landscape is barren but for the places were people have diverted the water to irrigate the land. Channels, kilometres long, have been carved out and build on the mountainsides to bring the water to the fields. They have clearly been doing this for centuries as the villages and orchards are full of big trees. Higher up in the valley the fields are still green with growing wheat and barley but on the desend back to Chitral the grains are riper and the fields look like a patchwork of greens and yellows. Outside the alluvial fans that are used for irrigation the land is rocky and under constant attack of the elements. The erosion is visible everywhere and the river is running black with silt.
I come back to the hotel around lunch time to find Grey already there. He has had an adventure of his own, landing in some mountain village and staying with a local family. He caught a jeep ride back to the hotel. Mukrim arrives back later in the afternoon, having flown to Booni. He top landed on the local paragliding launch site and camped out but decided to fly down in the morning and catch the bus back to the hotel as he run out of battery power on his GPS.
June 2. A big cyclone in the Bay of Bengal is playing havoc with the weather and it looks like we are in for a few non flyable days. We need a day anyway to do some domestic chores, do some Emailing and enjoy walking through the town and soak up the local pace of life.
June 3. Grey is having a craving for toast and jam. The local breakfast of fried egg and chapatti is not agreeing with him. He has a point, as the eggs are swimming in cooking fat. We pay a visit to the one luxury hotel in town and sit at a table, eat with knife and fork and sip black thee from an almost un chipped cup. The place has 45 rooms and is almost empty. White toast, scrambled eggs, butter and jam and black thee for 2.5 $US doesn’t break the bank and gives our stomach a break in the morning. As the day doesn’t look flyable we organise ourselves a excursion to a valley about 40 km from chitral where the non Muslim tribe of the Kalash people live. Much of their culture is being preserved in the newly build community centre with museum, medical centre and school. The local building stile hasn’t been replaced by concrete yet and the place looks rather idyllic. I guess the biggest attraction are the women, as they dress in very colourful costumes and don’t hide behind scarves or burkas. Our visit was a bid to short to get a good look around but we had to take the last taxi back otherwise Grey would have ended up sleeping with one of these girls.
Jun 4. The weather will be upset by this cyclone for the coming days. Today was rainy and the temperature has dropped. Mukrim has made friends with the local bank manager who is very interested in our activities. In the evening he comes by to invite us to his place for lunch tomorrow. The day passes with eating, a visit to the internet café and an attempt to rewire the GPS cable so Grey and Mukrim can down load their track logs. Grey, yesterday, got a refund for our airline tickets for the flight from Islamabad to Chitral. Later he got a call that they gave us to much money and if we could please come and return the difference. Seen as that all the people seem so honest around here we popped in this afternoon to sort it out. We got the royal treatment with cups of thee and cake and biscuits and a nice chat with the PIA airlines manager and we returned the 600 rupees. It is clear that the people around here are desperate for tourist to return. The repeated request is that we please spread the message how beautiful and safe it is in this part of Pakistan once we return to our home countries.
June 5. I dropped off my Icebreaker jersey at the tailor yesterday to get new cuffs put on. As I went to check my Email this morning I picked it up next doors. When I asked him how much it cost he said it was up to me. He must have spend at least an hour unpicking and re-sewing the cuffs. When I gave him 150 rupees he only took 50, less then a New Zealand dollar.
The sky cleared in the morning and we decide to get our gear ready so that we can go for a flight after the bankers lunch. Im not feeling to great today as my head cold is really breaking through so I return to bed as Grey and Mukrim get picked up.
June 8. Grey and Mukrim never got to fly. Lunch turned into an afternoon affair as was to be expected. Next day I still didn’t feel that great so I stayed in bed till the afternoon. Grey and Mukrim went up for a flight and ended up in Booni, about 60km to the north, caught up with the local pilots there and got the last bus back to the hotel. June the 7th The weather is very unstable. The sky is bleu in the morning but very quickly the cumulus develop and by lunchtime there is big cumulo nimbus cells which bring thunder and rain. Just as we are ready to get in the taxi, Dimitri , a pilot from the Ukraine, walks into our hotel so now we are four We decide to try and fly a triangle. First we fly south as that is where the thunderstorms seem to develop earlier. The cloud base is low at 4000 meter and we hop from ridge to ridge. By the time we get to the fourth ridge, the one that separates us from the kalash village, the clouds get to threatening and we turn around. We fly back to the launch area and top land in the hope that it may clear later in the afternoon. On the way we loose Dimitri but he lands safely back at the hotel. The remnants of the palace on the launch area are guarded by a young family. We get offered thee and chapatti and we try to understand each other talking with our hands and feet. The weather doesn’t clear and we decide to stay the night. Doors get unlocked and we enter the main room of what once was a substantial walled complex. Inside we find some epoch furniture, a fireplace and mirrors on the wall all covered with a thick layer of dust. We drink more thee, go for a walk up the ridge to stretch our legs and get served dinner at eight. Not a bad spot for a first paragliding bivi.
At night it rains and the wind howls around the buildings but in the morning the sky is clear. Dimitri comes up with the taxi and after a breakfast of thee and chapatti we are ready to launch at half past ten. The conditions are the same as yesterday but we start two hours earlier. We have the same flight plan and I don’t mess around this time. With the base at 4000 I don’t even top out the thermals and lead the way hopping from ridge to ridge. We lose Dimitri again but the three of us stay fairly close together and help each other along. The landscape is wild and at some stage in the flight as we squeeze over a little saddle in the ridge, the ground falls away and we look down sheer cliffs several hundred meters high. The clouds thicken again and by the time we fly over the kalash valley the sun is gone and at times we fly through light snow. I push my luck trying to get over one more ridge but arrive to low and get hit by the rotor. By the time I get back to the wind ward side of the valley Iv lost a lot of height and have to do some serious scratching to gain a few hundred meters. In the mean time Grey has been waiting near cloud base and decides to fly back to the main chitral valley. Mukrim didn’t get the last climb and is hugging the walls to get out to the main valley as well. This is the place we visited by car only a few days ago so we know the lay of the land. Once in the main valley the sun is back but there is a 15km wind that is scattering the thermals. Grey and I land at the same spot and as usual a crowd forms in no time. At first there is no English speakers but then a big pick-up truck pulls up with two engineers from the local marble mine. They are on their way to Chitral, so our return ride is secured. The ten steps to the truck was even less then the walk to the launch site this morning. Allah must be with us on this trip! The weather forecast is good for tomorrow, maybe it is going to be the big one…… PS uploading photos is taking to long
Friday, June 4, 2010
31May One aspect of being in a Muslim country is that there is no women visible on the street or anywhere we get invited for that matter. The few that we see cover their face with their scarf as soon as men arrive or if adhering to the stricter Sunni group they wear the full burka. The streets are full of men and for us there is definitely something missing. We are amazed by the kindness of this people. Where ever we are people go out of their way to help us. We get invited for cups of thee and people on the streets greet and shake your hand. We may get charged a higher rate for certain food or services but there is non of the money oriented aggression that prevails in many other countries. I really have to pinch myself sometimes to check if I’m not dreaming. If only life at home could be so pleasant.
Today we have set ourselves the task to try and fly around Trichmir, the big mountain that dominates the valley towards the north. The weather is again perfect and all three of us are able to get to 5500 meter before we cross the valley onto the foot hills of this 7700 meter giant. About an hour into the flight we lose contact with each other. Some high clouds move in from the south-west and the top of the mountain disappears. We are all flying with our bivi gear so that we can camp out if necessary. I fly along the south face of Trichmir and fly across some spectacular glacier landscape on a easterly heading to end up in Booni, another Para Gliding base camp. The sky looks threatening towards the west and I decide against camping out. Again the unbelievable kindness of the people blows me away. I land on a soccer field and one of the young boys there takes charge of the situation. He makes contact with the local pilots and organizes a ride into the village for me. Once at his house he produces a huge dish with mulberries, which are in season at the moment and we talk about al kinds of things till one of the local pilots shows up to take me to a place to spent the night. I get fed and we talk paragliding and politics till after dark. The scene is paradisiacal, the stars are out, the honey suckle is spreading its strong fragrance trough the garden, the frogs are croaking and there is the noise of water running through the irrigation channels. I sit in the dark in this walled garden for quiet some time before going to bed and feel totally at peace.
June 1 .In the morning at seven I get woken up for breakfast. Muzafara runs a school and needs to go but I can stay as I wish. The sky is totally bleu apart from a few early thermal clouds. For a moment I regret not having landed in the mountains to be able to fly back to chitral today but then I wouldn’t have had the encounter with these nice people. Plenty of time for flying. The bus ride back is spectacular. The landscape is barren but for the places were people have diverted the water to irrigate the land. Channels, kilometres long, have been carved out and build on the mountainsides to bring the water to the fields. They have clearly been doing this for centuries as the villages and orchards are full of big trees. Higher up in the valley the fields are still green with growing wheat and barley but on the decent back to Chitral the grains are riper and the fields look like a patchwork of greens and yellows. Outside the alluvial fans that are used for irrigation the land is rocky and under constant attack of the elements. The erosion is visible everywhere and the river is running black with silt.
I come back to the hotel around lunch time to find Grey already there. He has had an adventure of his own, landing in some mountain village and staying with a local family. He caught a jeep ride back to the hotel. Mukrim arrives back later in the afternoon, having flown to Booni. He top landed on the local paragliding launch site and camped out but decided to fly down in the morning and catch the bus back to the hotel as he run out of battery power on his GPS.
June 2. A big cyclone in the Bay of Bengal is playing havoc with the weather and it looks like we are in for a few non flyable days. We need a day anyway to do some domestic chores, do some Emailing and enjoy walking through the town and soak up the local pace of life.
June 3. Grey is having a craving for toast and jam. The local breakfast of fried egg and chapatti is not agreeing with him. He has a point, as the eggs are swimming in cooking fat. We pay a visit to the one luxury hotel in town and sit at a table, eat with knife and fork and sip black thee from an almost un chipped cup. The place has 45 rooms and is almost empty. White toast, scrambled eggs, butter and jam and black thee for 2.5 $US doesn’t break the bank and gives our stomach a break in the morning. As the day doesn’t look flyable we organise ourselves a excursion to a valley about 40 km from chitral where the non Muslim tribe of the Kalash people live. Much of their culture is being preserved in the newly build community centre with museum, medical centre and school. The local building stile hasn’t been replaced by concrete yet and the place looks rather idyllic. I guess the biggest attraction are the women, as they dress in very colourful costumes and don’t hide behind scarves or burkas. Our visit was a bid to short to get a good look around but we had to take the last taxi back otherwise Grey would have ended up sleeping with one of these girls.
Today we have set ourselves the task to try and fly around Trichmir, the big mountain that dominates the valley towards the north. The weather is again perfect and all three of us are able to get to 5500 meter before we cross the valley onto the foot hills of this 7700 meter giant. About an hour into the flight we lose contact with each other. Some high clouds move in from the south-west and the top of the mountain disappears. We are all flying with our bivi gear so that we can camp out if necessary. I fly along the south face of Trichmir and fly across some spectacular glacier landscape on a easterly heading to end up in Booni, another Para Gliding base camp. The sky looks threatening towards the west and I decide against camping out. Again the unbelievable kindness of the people blows me away. I land on a soccer field and one of the young boys there takes charge of the situation. He makes contact with the local pilots and organizes a ride into the village for me. Once at his house he produces a huge dish with mulberries, which are in season at the moment and we talk about al kinds of things till one of the local pilots shows up to take me to a place to spent the night. I get fed and we talk paragliding and politics till after dark. The scene is paradisiacal, the stars are out, the honey suckle is spreading its strong fragrance trough the garden, the frogs are croaking and there is the noise of water running through the irrigation channels. I sit in the dark in this walled garden for quiet some time before going to bed and feel totally at peace.
June 1 .In the morning at seven I get woken up for breakfast. Muzafara runs a school and needs to go but I can stay as I wish. The sky is totally bleu apart from a few early thermal clouds. For a moment I regret not having landed in the mountains to be able to fly back to chitral today but then I wouldn’t have had the encounter with these nice people. Plenty of time for flying. The bus ride back is spectacular. The landscape is barren but for the places were people have diverted the water to irrigate the land. Channels, kilometres long, have been carved out and build on the mountainsides to bring the water to the fields. They have clearly been doing this for centuries as the villages and orchards are full of big trees. Higher up in the valley the fields are still green with growing wheat and barley but on the decent back to Chitral the grains are riper and the fields look like a patchwork of greens and yellows. Outside the alluvial fans that are used for irrigation the land is rocky and under constant attack of the elements. The erosion is visible everywhere and the river is running black with silt.
I come back to the hotel around lunch time to find Grey already there. He has had an adventure of his own, landing in some mountain village and staying with a local family. He caught a jeep ride back to the hotel. Mukrim arrives back later in the afternoon, having flown to Booni. He top landed on the local paragliding launch site and camped out but decided to fly down in the morning and catch the bus back to the hotel as he run out of battery power on his GPS.
June 2. A big cyclone in the Bay of Bengal is playing havoc with the weather and it looks like we are in for a few non flyable days. We need a day anyway to do some domestic chores, do some Emailing and enjoy walking through the town and soak up the local pace of life.
June 3. Grey is having a craving for toast and jam. The local breakfast of fried egg and chapatti is not agreeing with him. He has a point, as the eggs are swimming in cooking fat. We pay a visit to the one luxury hotel in town and sit at a table, eat with knife and fork and sip black thee from an almost un chipped cup. The place has 45 rooms and is almost empty. White toast, scrambled eggs, butter and jam and black thee for 2.5 $US doesn’t break the bank and gives our stomach a break in the morning. As the day doesn’t look flyable we organise ourselves a excursion to a valley about 40 km from chitral where the non Muslim tribe of the Kalash people live. Much of their culture is being preserved in the newly build community centre with museum, medical centre and school. The local building stile hasn’t been replaced by concrete yet and the place looks rather idyllic. I guess the biggest attraction are the women, as they dress in very colourful costumes and don’t hide behind scarves or burkas. Our visit was a bid to short to get a good look around but we had to take the last taxi back otherwise Grey would have ended up sleeping with one of these girls.
30 May. The kings son, Farhad, organised a taxi for us to take us to the launch site.
It is called the Summer Palace and it happens to be the place were the royals would hang out in the summer when it gets to hot down in the valley. In the morning he helps us find a place to fill up our Oxygen tanks which we will try out for the first time. In the end Frahad can’t come himself but the taxi driver knows where to take us and around two o’clock we are on the launch site. At 2700 meter we are 1600 meters above the valley floor and have a great view over the chitral valley to the east and to the west stands the imposing bulk of Trichmir, a 7705 meter high mountain that dominates the view.
The process of getting ready for take off is somewhat longer and uncomfortable in these altitudes. On the launch the temperature is a balmy 25 degrees but we have to dress ourselves for the cold at higher altitude. By the time the cameras and Oxygen are hooked up and we are clipped in to our gliders we are dripping with perspiration. The launch is a grassy slope and makes for an easy takeoff. Our first flight in Pakistan was about 3 hours long, we got up to 5500 meters and it totally left us wanting more. The scenery is awe inspiring. Once one climbs above the surrounding mountains the view opens up to a imposing 360 degree panorama of snow covered peaks that reaches as far as the eye can see. It left me feeling very small but also wanting to go beyond what was visible. Although I didn’t need it at that altitude, the Oxygen system worked perfect as did the rest of the equipment.
The landing was an event in itself. I decided to land in a field near the castle, away from any crowds. Amazingly, within seconds of touching the ground children came running towards me from all directions and in no time there was a crowd of fifty kids. They stood so close to me I could hardly move and I had to yell several times to get them to give me some space. Getting out off all that gear and keeping it all together was a mission but one of the older kids spoke good English and made sure that nobody was standing on my lines or would unnecessary touch my stuff. Although I don’t need have worried about loosing my stuff, people around here are so honest that theft seems not to be part of their vocabulary. As I walked over to Farhad’s house to dump my gear I bump into Mukrim, the Para Gliding pilot from Canada. Together we walk back to assist Grey by his landing, although by then the novelty had worn of and only half of the kids showed up.
We got invited to dine at Farhads place which was an excellent end to a first flying day.
It is called the Summer Palace and it happens to be the place were the royals would hang out in the summer when it gets to hot down in the valley. In the morning he helps us find a place to fill up our Oxygen tanks which we will try out for the first time. In the end Frahad can’t come himself but the taxi driver knows where to take us and around two o’clock we are on the launch site. At 2700 meter we are 1600 meters above the valley floor and have a great view over the chitral valley to the east and to the west stands the imposing bulk of Trichmir, a 7705 meter high mountain that dominates the view.
The process of getting ready for take off is somewhat longer and uncomfortable in these altitudes. On the launch the temperature is a balmy 25 degrees but we have to dress ourselves for the cold at higher altitude. By the time the cameras and Oxygen are hooked up and we are clipped in to our gliders we are dripping with perspiration. The launch is a grassy slope and makes for an easy takeoff. Our first flight in Pakistan was about 3 hours long, we got up to 5500 meters and it totally left us wanting more. The scenery is awe inspiring. Once one climbs above the surrounding mountains the view opens up to a imposing 360 degree panorama of snow covered peaks that reaches as far as the eye can see. It left me feeling very small but also wanting to go beyond what was visible. Although I didn’t need it at that altitude, the Oxygen system worked perfect as did the rest of the equipment.
The landing was an event in itself. I decided to land in a field near the castle, away from any crowds. Amazingly, within seconds of touching the ground children came running towards me from all directions and in no time there was a crowd of fifty kids. They stood so close to me I could hardly move and I had to yell several times to get them to give me some space. Getting out off all that gear and keeping it all together was a mission but one of the older kids spoke good English and made sure that nobody was standing on my lines or would unnecessary touch my stuff. Although I don’t need have worried about loosing my stuff, people around here are so honest that theft seems not to be part of their vocabulary. As I walked over to Farhad’s house to dump my gear I bump into Mukrim, the Para Gliding pilot from Canada. Together we walk back to assist Grey by his landing, although by then the novelty had worn of and only half of the kids showed up.
We got invited to dine at Farhads place which was an excellent end to a first flying day.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
29 May Up bright and early to get to the airport at 6am. Sajjad had organised a taxi to take us there. The driver stayed with us trough check in. Just as well. Grey presented his Oxygen bottle as a big 3kg carry-on bomb and that was not going to pass security. Although I slipped trough. The driver took the bottle back and we proceeded to the gate with 30 minutes to spare. After a cup of thee and reflecting on how smooth everything was going, the departure announcement changed and our flight was cancelled due to the weather at our destination. We took a taxi back to town and checked in into a different hotel, with aircon this time. After breakfast we could think straight again and decided on a change of plans. The bus ride to Chitral is 14 hours and wouldn’t give us any problems with the Oxygen bottles. It is also not as weather dependent as the flight so we wouldn’t waste more time in Islamabad. Again with the help of Sajjad we got ourselves two seats on the night bus which departed at 9pm. By the time we had collected our tickets, bought some supplies and had dinner it was time to go. Till then we had been in a relative quiet part off town. The bus stop area is on the border between Rawalpindi and Islamabad and is more like we know Asia to be, hectic, noisy and alive. The bus turned out to be a small 18 seater wit no aircon. I had a seat right on the wheel arch so I had to unscrew my legs and put them in the overhead locker space, which was not there. Fortunately I was able to sleep a lot so I didn’t notice my cramped position to much. All night I was state off semi consciousness and didn’t notice much off the many police checkpoints we went through and the repairs that where made to the bus at different stages. The night passed quickly but once it got light I could read the road signs and saw that Chitral, our destination, was still 230 Km away. We then entered the mountains and the condition of the road deteriorated and with it our average speed. The 14hour trip turned into 17 and we were really glad to arrive in Chitral. The little Inn that I found in the lonely planet guide turned out to be just as it said, a little green haven in a bustling town. News of our imminent arrival had preceded us and one of the local pilots came and visited us in the evening.
From him we got the lowdown on the local conditions and the way to get to the take-off. He turns out to be the son of the king so we are in good company. Walking in the main street in the afternoon we got accosted by what turned out to be a plainclothes policeman.
We need to register our presence here and he is the man to make sure we do. We fill out some forms and then the big question comes. Chitral is a perfectly safe place to be but for our security he advices us that we agree to have a bodyguard with us al the time. Luckily we had been warned about this so we kindly declined. He must have been hoping that we would say yes so he could get his brother to look after us and being paid for it. After declining another 5 times he got the message, we wrote a declaration and signed away our lives. On the wall of his office was a chard off the number of people that come through here each year. There were 300 last year and it was up to 34 so far. We seem to be the only foreigners in town at the moment, except for another Canadian pilot and an Australian. The Aussi is involved in building schools in the district with his own money. We had the pleasure to meet him as he came up to our hotel to find out who those kiwis were.
From him we got the lowdown on the local conditions and the way to get to the take-off. He turns out to be the son of the king so we are in good company. Walking in the main street in the afternoon we got accosted by what turned out to be a plainclothes policeman.
We need to register our presence here and he is the man to make sure we do. We fill out some forms and then the big question comes. Chitral is a perfectly safe place to be but for our security he advices us that we agree to have a bodyguard with us al the time. Luckily we had been warned about this so we kindly declined. He must have been hoping that we would say yes so he could get his brother to look after us and being paid for it. After declining another 5 times he got the message, we wrote a declaration and signed away our lives. On the wall of his office was a chard off the number of people that come through here each year. There were 300 last year and it was up to 34 so far. We seem to be the only foreigners in town at the moment, except for another Canadian pilot and an Australian. The Aussi is involved in building schools in the district with his own money. We had the pleasure to meet him as he came up to our hotel to find out who those kiwis were.
By 3pm we had had enough and metroed back to the hotel for a late lunch. I wrote a few lines of this blog and then fell asleep, to be awoken by Grey at seven with an hour to go before we had to be back at the airport. From Dubai it is only a 3 hour flight to Islamabad, much to short to cache up on my sleep and 2.30 is a very unpractical time to arrive in a town that you don’t know and where you don’t have a hotel booked. We stayed in the arrival hall till 7 and then took a taxi into town. The hotel from the Lonely Planet Guide is a dump but what do you expect for eight dollar NZ for a room with two beds. After cups of thee and toast with egg we set of to find the local pilots. I had omitted to get an description of the place and just a street address and number turned out to be insufficient. Lots off Pakistani people are not able to say; I don’t know, as a result of which we walked up and down the same street quiet a few times before we got the right directions. Once at the head quarters off the Pakistani Association of Free Flight we new that things where going to be taken care off. We had 30 Kg of gear sitting at the Cargo building at the airport. A shipping agent got organised and Grey was of with him to get it. Without his help we would never have gotten the stuff back. The amount of paperwork was staggering and the number of signatures required, of people that didn’t speak English, unbelievable. Money got changed for us for a better rate, cell phone and Sim card and tickets for the domestic flight to Chitral organised. We got treated with breakfast and lunch and we just about met the whole pilot scene of Islamabad. Not a bad first day at all!!!
Friday, May 28, 2010
On our way
We are on our way!!! We left some dreadful weather behind in Christchurch. The departure was without stress, for me at least. Grey still had some last minute purchases to make but even he got everything sorted and we made it to the airport in time. Christchurch, Sydney, Sydney, Bangkok, Bangkok, Dubai. All in the dark as we kept up with the night, it only got light once we arrived in Dubai. 21 hours was again long enough sitting on your arse with your legs folded double. The food is good and the entertainment system makes the time pas quicker but it is still a long time. As we have a lay over in Dubai of more than 8 hours Emirates airlines puts us up in a hotel for free with breakfast lunch and dinner thrown in as well. We actually have 16 hours so after a shower and breakfast we took the metro and explored a small part off this unreal place.The first thing that strikes you here, after the killer heat, is the cleanness. No graffiti anywhere and by the looks of it no vandalism of public property. The metro has been open for 9 months and still looks like it was opened yesterday. The folks that are running the show are very friendly and helpful. The architecture of the place is out off this world. On the flight from OZ to Bangkok we sad next to a guy who was on its way to a hockey tournament in London, for the weekend! I couldn’t help myself and make a comment about the size of his carbon footprint, to which he said something about him not wearing a green shirt anyway. Once you get to a place like Dubai though, you have to admit that it is all very futile what we are talking about. The amount of resources that is being used up in this place is just staggering and the decadence of it all is overwhelming. We let ourselves being overwhelmed and enjoyed the show.
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