Leaving Abbottabad
Abbottabad was just a nightstop for us. I went out looking for breakfast but it doesn’t look like the kind of town where anyone eats out in the morning. So I bought a loaf of cake and a tetrapak of milk, inhaled it and quickly made our way to he general bus stand. I saw some beautiful buses here and took the time to photograph them outside and inside (while it was empty).
Here, we were told there weren’t any buses to Besham; I suspect it’s the simple way of saying “the buses don’t originate from here; hence the departure time is uncertain and there may be no seats”. We were dragged to a minibus stand and told to go to Mansehra to change for Besham.
The trip to Mansehra took only an hour. We tried again to find a big bus but had to make do with a minivan. We wanted to buy an extra seat as this leg was slightly longer and had to wait a little as the immediate departure had only two seats left. The journey took us through pine forests, dry and lightly wooded hills, green terraces, green padi fields in the valley and also the gushing grey Indus river (probably glacier fed judging from the colour of the water).
Total journey time from Abbottabad to Besham was 5h30, which was the duration expected on the bus. But we had a few stops:
- Our wait and change at Mansehra
- A lunchstop after Mansehra.
- A stop which saw us being held back and waving goodbye to our minivan, due to army and police issues south of Besham.
Text continues after this gallery.
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- Pakistani buses (like their trucks) are works of art.
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- Pakistani buses (like their trucks) are works of art.
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- Tiara of a bus.
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- Tassles of a bus.
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- Interior of a bus.
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- Interior of a bus.
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- At the bus station at Abbottabad leaving for Besham … or trying to.
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- Stopping at a cafe for lunch on the way.
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- Stopping at a cafe for lunch on the way. Delicious patties fried in … very black oil.
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- Stopping at a cafe for lunch on the way. Delicious patties fried in … very black oil.
Police and Army Permit Issue
About 30km south of Besham we stopped at a combined police and army checkpoint. We produced our passports and were asked to show our trekking permits. It looks like previous people have largely been trekking groups or groups crossing into Xinjiang, China. Our enquiries with the Wellington and Paris consulates didn’t indicate the requirement of such permits. Our bags were offloaded from the roof of the van while we sorted things out.
I tried calling the authority who issued such a permit (used the number from the permit from previous travellers). The army guy rang his boss. I explained that we weren’t going trekking but we love Pakistan and we’re trying to escape the heat of the lowlands. After a bit of polite and respectful discussion, our details were entered into the book and we were allowed to leave but only with an rifled escort by the name of Rahman Hussein.
Helping hunt terrorists
But we had to wait for another minivan to turn up. So we had nice chats in the shed while waiting. We saw a poster with mugshots and details; some 27 of them. The boss explained they were terrorists. I asked if I could take a picture but he declined. I said I’d help him find those terrorists but the answer was still a “No”. They were all categorised as JB (Jetblack) being the most dangerous, except one who was merely Black. Then Marie pointed to a passing pickup truck then said “Oh, he’s just gone past”, then pointing at one of the mugshots.
I asked if we would encounter further problems along the Karakoram Highway but the boss said this was the only army checkpoints. The remaining ones are police-only so we should be OK. I had thought of asking him to write us a note like I had received from a policeman when I got pulled up at Mashhad, Iran.
Moving on, thankfully!
Eventually another minivan came past which we could be put on. It was full. Rahman sat next to the driver with the gear knob between his legs. I sat next to him with his rifle pointing in my face initially; very unsettling. With Marie next to me, it was a packed foursome in the front of the minivan.We made it to Besham in good time despite the hiccup. A sandstorm blew up then the torrential rain poured down soaking our baggage. We checked into the nicest hotel so far in Pakistan at the Besham Continental Hotel.
After dinner we chatted with our host. I asked him how he felt about the US launching an attack into Osama bin Laden’s residence in Abbottabad. His view was that it was staged; he has a house in the Habib Colony area of Abbottabad and as far as him and the neighbours are concerned, there is no way Osama could have been hiding there for the last 6 years.
View from our room at the Besham Continental Hotel.