Lahore - Multan - Bahawalpur - Quetta - Taftan

  Taftan, Pakistan
Friday, November 9, 2007

Itinary : Lahore - Multan - Bahawalpur - Zukkur - Quetta - Taftan
Dates : 6th November to 9th of November 2007
Mileage in Pakistan : 1940 km
Mileage so far : 11700 km

We are finally setting up the bikes to get out of India! Not that we don't like India or the people, but our bikes trigger so much curiosity that the crowd gatherings could not be avoided, and it started to get very tiring...So we left Amritsar in direction of the Pakistan border which is just 30 km away, hoping that Pakistan would have less "curious" people...
The day didn't start too well when we stopped for the last petrol refuelling in India and I discovered that I had 2 nails in my rear tyre...One of them had air leaking out when I pressed it so I figured that it was best to settle it now that there was a little tyre shop a few meters away. Bad decision! The young guy didn't speak a word of English and when I pointed out the 2 nails and "hand-language" him that I wanted him to remove the nails and repair the tyre, he smiled in what I thought was an acknowledgment...So he took out the nails relatively easily and then stood up to stare at me while the air in the tyre was emptying...It must have lasted 20 seconds...Then he started to roam around the bike to touch all the things that I don't like people to touch...So I told myself that he was maybe taking a little break to admire the bike...And I couldn't really say much as he was holding me by the balls now that the rear tyre was flat...So I let him take his time, waited patiently and told myself that he will soon start the job. Well I was wrong! When I could see that the "bike tour" started to be less exciting for him and when I could see that he was distracted by something else, I got a bit nervous and tried to explain him that we were a bit in a hurry so we would appreciate if he could go to work and start repairing. But he stared another 30 seconds at me without moving, and without any facial expression...So when I shook him a little bit to wake him up, I finally understood that he couldn't repair the tyre as he only had the equipment to repair "tubes" and didn't have the repair equipment to fix the tyre! Luckily I took with me a repair kit and I started doing the repair myself...Funny to be in a tyre stall and repairing the tyre myself with the specialist standing beside while I was knee down sweating like hell! One of the holes was quite big and had to take several rubbers to fill it up...One hour after, we were back on the road and finally reached the India-Pakistan border around noon time.

It was a relatively easy border to cross as everything was indicated (unlike the previous border between Nepal and India) and not so much people, so it was a quite stress-free experience. Unfortunately, the tyre problem was to appear again...As the customs officer was checking the engine number, I could hear a constant whistling and it was my rear tyre deflating slowly. Argh...The hole was big and the repair that I had done was not good enough...So I was back on my knees again, adding some more of those rubber...Lucky enough, I had brought with me a 12V compressor that you can plug to the battery and used it to pump up the tyres in the customs area. This time the repair looked a bit better and it seemed to be holding.

Arriving in Pakistan was a big relief as I've had my fair share of attention in India...And I was hoping that a less populated country would ultimately gather a less big crowd during my stops...Plus managing to cross a border without any major problem is always a relief!
Well guys...Pakistan is pretty much the same as India, meaning there is still traffic, still animals on the road, and still people or bicycles crossing without looking...
So riding is a full time job here as well...On the other hand, the good thing was that the roads are surprisingly good with 4 lane roads and no holes! Plus the trucks are the nicest trucks I've ever seen! It's like a Christmas tree on wheels...But they look unsafe as they have a tendency to overload them...

Christmas tree on wheels, not aerodynamic at all!

The nicest trucks in the world!

Slightly overloaded...

Space optimization...

Another thing is that the people are so much less "nosy" and more polite. I also thought that they were really friendly and more respectful. So my enjoyable encounter in Bangkok, with the 2 Pakistanis that were trading truck spare parts, was not an accident and I can now confirm that the Pakistanis are in general super friendly. Maybe too friendly that they all want you to come and have tea at their place! 

The crowded city of Lahore, 5 millions inhabitants

Lahore hectic traffic light with fellow bikers...

Still animals on the road in Pakistan...,

I know where Osama is hiding...

I wish I had a cradle like that when a kid...

Concerning the local events in Pakistan, well I haven't felt anything...No violence or tension and everything seems to be normal. I have to say that we are avoiding the big towns where the problems are mainly located. Nevertheless, the people don't seem to be affected by it and didn't mention anything. Maybe the TV censorship works! Knowing that the militaries have taken power, I was expecting to see the army everywhere with checkpoints all over the place but nothing...I don't know what is the situation as there are no CNN or BBC international news broadcasting at the moment on cable TV and haven't been able to check the evolution. Steph, just SMS me if there's news about kicking out foreigners! Or if foreigners are not welcomed in certain areas!

Our first petrol stop in Pakistan was again for my tyre which was slightly leaking again when I would press the rubber filling...This time the guy fixed it properly and used a different type of rubber which looked to be one to repair truck tyres! Good because the hole was so big that it needed something like that! This stop was a nice and funny one...The petrol station owner jumped on us as we arrived in the petrol station and insisted that we follow him while his staff was taking care of the bikes. And surprise, we entered a super office, just beside the petrol shop, in a different building...And wow! It was a high class office with expensive stuff in it. Plasma TV, huge wooden desk with a "CEO chair" and an expensive looking baroque decorated living area. Hmm this doesn't look right for some reason. Not that I was scared he would cut me into pieces and throw me in the river, but hell I never saw a petrol station owner in a developing country have that sort of comfort! It got even weirder when he took out the bottles of black label...We of course refused but he insisted to buy us a drink so we conceded a can of shandy...I think this guy must be from the local mafia and was using the petrol station to dissimulate some other business...Nevertheless he was friendly and spoke good English...So we joked a lot while his staff was starting to get excited around the bikes...And when I went out to take my camera on the bike, there was a little crowd gathering and they all sat one by one on the bike to take a picture with their phone. It became even more funny when a group of Pakistanis wearing the traditional full bodied white shirt and hat (I don't know the names!) arrived to fill-up their car tank and decided that they would have a picture with the bikes as well...I really didn't know how to behave around them or what to say in order not to offence them...Well they looked extreme but they were the most "gentle" of the whole bunch! The only extremism I felt was when they affectionately held me by the thigh while taking the picture when they were sitting on the bike! Hmm...Unfortunately forgot to take a picture with my own camera...On the other hand I took a few other snaps with the petrol staff and finally managed to get a picture holding a gun! One of them was really friendly, to the point that I thought that he would cry when I leave! Can you notice his passionate look in the picture?

The Pakistani tyre repair expert...

My bike was well guarded...

Felt stronger holding this gun...

My new best pal...

Petrol Kiosk owner...

 
This time the tyre repair looked to be done properly and we were back on the road, heading towards Multan. Was a tiring ride as we arrived at midnight at the hotel because of all the tyre repair stops...I could have changed my tyre and use the spare one but I wanted to keep it "fresh" as long as possible, otherwise I would be too "short" and maybe not be able to ride up to France if I change it now...

The next day, Kevin who I left the task to organize the route and plot the Pakistan crossing (while bored in Amritsar waiting for me), planned to ride to Quetta. The plan changed because I had planned a longer route but after discussion we decided that it would be wiser to head out of Pakistan quickly. The ride to Quetta is only a 6 hour ride so we left at 10 AM. The ride out of Multan was quite easy and fast with the GPS so we started the ride with a big smile under our helmets. Well our smiles didn't last too long and this day happened to be a scary one...We had read and heard that there were police scams regularly reported and to be careful with them...And while riding this secondary route along the Afghan border in order to shortcut across Pakistan, we were waved to stop twice by the police but continued our way...It was scary because they were holding their guns and they looked rather convincing when asking us to stop...So we continued and I was telling myself if I had done the right thing...Especially when we realised that the first police stop had warned the second police stop of our passage and they were waiting for us along the road with their van. So we swerved our way trough, trying to act naive in order not to show too much disrespect...By the time we arrived at the third police stop, they had been warned of our escape manoeuvres and they waited for us in a narrow crowded city crossing and blocked the road holding their gun. This time we had no other choice but to stop. I was not at ease seeing how they were insisting on us stopping but figured that there was no point worrying so I calmly parked the bike, took off my helmet and lit a cigarette. They aggressively pushed the crowd away and we had one police each assigned standing in front of each of our bikes. I quickly realized that we were waiting for the police van to U-turn further down the road...I really didn't know what was happening as the two policeman standing in front of our bikes had no facial expression and were not talking at all...We just stood there doing nothing for basically 2-3 minutes. When the van came back, they asked us to put back our helmets and to follow them...I was having some weird thoughts while following them...Especially when I would unintentionally be following them from too far away for their liking and they would do hectic hand gestures to make me understand that I had to get nearer to the van...Nothing we could do...After all they had the guns and me the pepper spray...I eased up a bit when I realized that they were bringing us to a quieter place out of the town so they could question us on the side of the road. At first they looked really pissed because we had fled the first 2 times and I think they were not happy...When everything "cooled" down and the questioning finished, we finally got the reason for their insistence in getting us stopped...They were actually trying to stop us in order to make us U-turn and go back to Multan to use the main road to Quetta because the secondary road was too dangerous to use. Apparently, rebel groups are on the secondary road which follows the Afghan border. So it was a big relief to finally realise that they wanted good, that they were here for our safety and that they were not dodgy cops instigating a scam...So they took our map and drew the itinerary we had to take with the places we could stay. They advised us to head back by the same way we came from in order to catch the main road to Quetta. So we headed back to Multan with a bit of frustration as we had done 40 km and an hour and half riding for nothing...Nevermind, safety first I guess...As we were heading back, we decided to stop for a quick drink and food but it was not a good idea as we realised that the police were all communicating with each other and when they saw that we did not pass the check point back to Multan, a different set of cops came looking for us in the stall where we were relaxing. We thought that this time we were facing dodgy cops as they didn't have the same uniform as the one that just stopped us...But we were relieved when we realised that they had been communicated with the previous cops. Indeed, they knew all the details of what we were doing, where we were coming from, and where we were going! So this time, they escorted us up to the main road all the way back in Multan where they hand signalled us which direction we had to go...We then realised that we would be followed throughout our journey in Pakistan. Every time we passed a check point, they would wave their hand like if we were old friends and point us the direction while "walkie-talkiying"...Probably warning the previous checkpoint that we had passed and signalling the next checkpoint that we would be passing...Hmm, it's for our safety but I'm not really comfortable knowing that we are being watched...We had decided the previous day that because the people were friendly, we would maybe stay 2 days more, but after all this police adventure, we decided to go straight to Iran. I figured that if we are so closely watched by the police, there must probably be a reason that we are not really aware of...Better not to know and just get out...With all this waste of mileage and police questioning, we must have wasted maybe 3 hours that day...So by the time we were really on the road and riding it was 3 pm...We ended up staying in a town only 100 km away from Multan. Good decision because we were tired from the previous late night ride and the stressful day with the cops...We were not enjoying riding the bikes that day...So this early stop was good. And like that we could take a bit of time to recover and have a good night rest before the long one day ride to Quetta. We set the departure time at 5h30 am to try to reach Quetta in the evening...750km...But the road seems to be good and it's a 4 lane road so we should be able to do it...

My first pakistani police encounter...

Pakistani reincarnation of Charly chaplin...

Very tiring, weird and scary day...Kevin was actually pale when we stopped for drinks after the first police stop...It was a mentally stressful day and didn't know what to think when facing these cops. Especially when we noticed that they didn't have the same uniform! Adventure, adventure...

So we left the next day at 6 am and I was really tired...I haven't had the time to rest since New Delhi, meaning I haven't spent 1 day without riding since the 26th of October when in New Delhi. For the first time I am starting to feel it and I fell asleep a couple of times on the bike...Once I woke up with my helmet resting on the tank bag! So I told Kevin that I needed to take it easy and stop often because it's getting too dangerous for me...One of the most difficult days riding because I was exhausted and we still did 770 km on that day going to Quetta...On the other hand, it's the first time since Nepal where we are not riding with cows on the road...The roads in the west are much calmer and less crowded....The police were still "on our case" by following us the whole day and I finally figured out their technique. All the checkpoints were communicating with each other and every time we would pass a checkpoint, they would jump on their bikes to follow us until the next checkpoint to make sure we didn't get into trouble or stop. Indeed, every time we stopped for a break they would arrive 5-10 minutes later on their moped and ask us to get on the bike and to move on...Then 120 km from Quetta, which is apparently known to be a dodgy town in the mountain with rebel groups, we got escorted by a pick-up truck with 5 policemen all the way up to the entrance of the hotel. It was a very long day and we lost a lot of time. Every 20 km they would hand us to the next escort team that manages the next district. I thought they would stay in the room with us! Quetta is at 1800m and luckily the hotel was relatively nice so the room was heated and I could have a little bit of rest...

Dusty desert sunrise early in the morning...

Police making sure I didn't stop for a pee...

Police escort to Quetta...at 30 km/hour!

Serious pose for the camera...

On your guard!

The next day was going to be the last leg of our Pakistan crossing and we wanted to reach the border in the evening so that we could cross the Pakistan-Iran border the next morning. We left Quetta with a police car waiting at the gate of the hotel...Quetta is one of the dustiest town I've seen! And the exit of the city is in a cloud of dust...Looked like I was riding on the moon...

Dusty Quetta...my jacket was all white...

Welcome to the moon, enjoy your stay...

After the town exit, the road to Taftan is good and it's like a highway in the middle of the desert. This time no escort but we were followed again from checkpoints to checkpoints and by police with binoculars along the road...We did the fastest average speed of the trip so far with 97 km/hour! 

Police checkpoint along the Afghan border...

Desert with absolutely nothing...

and as flat as it can get...

Just me and sand...

Desert stop with "dromadares"...Spelling?

This is my first real desert crossing where there is nothing...It's just dry, flat and you don't see anything around...No petrol station and you fill-up from jerry cans on the road...Food is a problem as well but I've been trying to eat as much as possible. Even tough some places were scary and probably a bit risky, I would still put some food in my stomach...Kevin opted for the other option and he hasn't been eating at all almost...He lost 16 kg since he left! But I can't afford to lose 16 kg...And I actually managed to gain 3 kg!

food stop and this is the restaurant...

Sharing table in the dining area...

The cook in his kitchen...

Town crossing...Buildings are made of mud here...

Osama trying to hypnotise and convert me...

It's not Osama...This guy is too short...

The high of the day was when we were stopped at a checkpoint by the balochistan police. We must have stopped for an hour and half at this checkpoint...We had some tea and we took the chance to have a good laugh by exchanging roles...I got to feel how being a balochistan police feels like and I can say that I prefer to ride bikes...They were super friendly and wanted us to stay at their checkpoint for the night. I thought it was a great idea and maybe the only chance to take out the tent! It was perfect because it's in the middle of desert and it was probably safer to stay with them than in Taftan which was described as hell on hearth in the lonely planet...Unfortunately, Kevin wasn't feeling very good and needed a toilets so we had to turn down the offer...Hopefully we'll get the chance again later on in the trip...I want to take my tent out at least one time during the trip!

Cool to be a balochistan police!

In charge of the rope and letting the truck pass

My new goal...become a balochistan police...

Balochistan police checkpoint...Fantastic!

When we arrived in Taftan, Kevin was feeling bad and he stayed a good part of the night in the toilet. We were sharing the room in this government hotel (which is one of the worst hotel so far) and I wasn't particularly excited by the sound generated by Kevin's toilet sessions so I decided to go fill-up the tanks of our 2 bikes in town as petrol could maybe be a hassle in Iran. Plus Kevin wanted me to pick-up some Kitkats or Mars bars as it's the only thing his stomach will allow to digest...Well Taftan is really hell on earth! It was night time and dark so I had a hard time finding a petrol shop. And when I did, I was surrounded with Taliban looking Pakistanis...Not at ease at all...After transferring petrol from the jerry cans (and of course spilling half of it on the bike), I quickly headed for the main street to pick up some snacks at the local market. When I arrived in the main street to pick-up some chips and kitkats, I realized that I was maybe never going to survive the purchase! I told myself that I couldn't believe that I would risk my life to buy bloody chips! It was really hell on earth...Went straight back into the room after that and locked myself up until the next day...
Tomorrow morning, Iran! The land of nuclear development...