Pakistan Pakistan, how amazing is Pakistan

This morning we managed to wake up nice and early after an excellent nights sleep in the cooler air, despite Sarahs wiggling in her cocoon. The alarm sounded at 6.30 but we were already up and awake, slipping on our new recently acquired Chinese walking shoes. We had planned the previous night on an early morning walk to blow away the cobwebs, start our acclimatisation to the altitude and take in some of the amazing scenery!
By 6.40 we were walking over the rocky river banks to head over a dodgy suspension bridge spanning the Indus. From here we passed through a small awakening village, passed some lovely irrigated high land and up a steep but not too high local hill. The views from the top were stunning, at the bottom of the cliffs below us were two wild rivers crashing into each other and dominating either end of the valley were huge snow covered mountains projecting into the sky. At about 8.30 the sun rose over the valley wall, suddenly warming us up and bathing our surroundings with bright colours. All this before breakfast!
After sitting and enjoying the peacefulness we headed down back towards the bridge and village to grab brekkie. We chose the government run motel to eat omelets and parathas - a kind of fried flaky chapati, all washed down with big mugs of milky tea! Mmmm. At breakfast we met two nice people who had ridden motor bikes from Switzerland, speaking to them made us quite jealous! We sat about swapping stories for a while before heading off and attempting to find transport towards a town with a tailor. There were a few transport options to take us away from this ramshackle collection of huts but trying to figure them out was chaotic and complicated. In the end we left the hecticness behind and walked a little further down the road and put our bags down. We did not have to wait long before a car heading our way turned up. It was a tiny suzuki car about to fall apart at any minute, but cheap and leaving straight away so we were happy to take it. Our bags rather worryingly were tossed loosely onto a roof rack, when Sarah and I tried to tie them on, the driver said "no, no, no worries - lets go!" Rather reluctantly we jumped in and set off on the two hour roller coaster ride.
The driver and passenger were both young Pakistani men heading home to Gilgit, our stop was on the way so we were probably covering their petrol for the journey. Seat belts must have been an optional extra not taken up by the original owner, so the only thing holding us into our seats were the g-forces of acceleration and tight turns. With the obligatory latest bollywood style beats blaring out of the crackling home installed sound system we flew through the valleys at the speed of the water rushing below us.
The driver was actually a strange one, instead of consistently scaring the crap out of us with his driving he would slow down to a snails pace whenever he lost his concentration or he was thinking of something else. As soon as he realised the foot would be back on the accelerator, pedal to the floor no matter how sharp the bends in front whilst trying to avoid the rock fall debris at all costs! This constant change from fast to slow really made us feel as if we were on a roller coaster.
There is no way we could possibly summerise the scenery in words or pictures, we could write every relevant adjective in the most positive way and it would still come no way near describing how amazing, epic and huge our surroundings are. The road is precariously cut into the mountain edges, consistently at risk of being reclaimed by the mountains. The huge monstrous giants to our sides are continuously shedding their skins sending huge house sized chunks of rock crashing down, or tones of loose shingle. We have been warned by so many people that no matter what we do, do not travel on the KKH during or just after rain. The slopes become even more unstable making landslides and rockfalls a real danger. The locals of course have different views on danger as their lives are in the hands of God, 'Insha'Allah' - God willing they say, or so be it. To make the journey even more heart thumpingly scary is the added danger from the partial culprit responsible for the dramatic scenery, the Indus. This wild, frothy savage river is always there, nipping at your heals seemingly begging to swallow you up and spit you out thousands of miles away.
Its a constant battle for the engineers and road builders fighting the powers of ice and water here. The road is important not so much for the trade with China (which is surprisingly light) , but as it is the only access road for the population in the area. Come spring the gushing snow melt water washes away whole sections of tarmac, cutting new gashes to be filled in or bridged. What the water does not damage the constant rock falls and landslides finish off making the whole process a never ending story. You really feel Geology has stepped up a gear and is racing instead of moving at its usual slow crusty pace.
As we have said the views from the car were stunning, unreal and unbelievably epic. My insides were kicking and screaming, I just wanted to stick my head out the open window and yell at the mountains, yell at everything we were passing, just shout how amazing I thought it was - the scale and awesomeness was just too much for my brain to take in. The people we had met so far, the culture, the huge 7000m+ mountains wanting to collapse on us, the history, everything makes this the most incredible place I think I have ever been. Is it possible to have visited the best place on Earth? I was certainly thinking that in the car. The feeling was quickly followed by panic! Will this mean going back home and finding a job as everything will be a disappointment from now?? I doubt it. We will just have to try and blag a flight to space with Willows soon to be ex-boss before its too late! Anyway, we feel like little people in a giants world, dwarfed by everything including the generosity and hospitality of the people we meet. I have never shaken so many hands in such a short space of time.
The driver dropped us off in a small hamlet called Ganish, a junction on the KKH where the road turning off soars up to our destination, the village of Karimabad. After sitting on the side of the road for only a minute or two we hitched a ride in the gravel filled trailer of a passing builders tractor. Sitting on the pile of gravel surrounded by smiling men whist chugging noisily up the hill we couldn't help stealing a quick smile as we finally felt the long lost spirit of adventure after its long Chinese absence. The tractor struggled with its load up the steep slope so it took a while to cover the 6 or 7km to our village. After our arrival we quickly found some where to crash and hit the local eatery for a tasty bowl of daal and chapattis.
Karimabad is the ancient capital of the Hunza valley. Its a very small village with an amazing fort, all perched high up with stupendous views of the valleys below. Behind us towers the mighty Ultar mountain standing tall at 7388m, which until '96 was the lowest unclimbed attempted mountain, claiming quite a few peoples lives. The climbers who made the summit died on the way down and no-one has made it since. You can see why when you look at it! Opposite on the other side of the valley we are watched by Rakaposhi, weighing in at 7010m. In every other direction we are circled by anonymous peaks that would dwarf anything in Europe.
Our accommodation was nice, with great views of the valley. In the afternoon we checked out some local info on trekking routes then hit a local hotel for drinks (cokes) with the Swiss motorcyclists. We spent the evening watching the pointless, over the top, goose stepping extravaganza that was the Olympic opening ceremony, whooping with joy that we were no longer in that awful place called China.