(Daniel) Again we headed off very early this morning, so as to cross in daylight the Iranian side of the Belugistan desert, or as it is spelt here Balochistan.  Before I left I took my bullet proof jacket from it’s place under my seat, and put it on under my ski jacket.  This next couple of days are the reason why I brought the jacket, given to me by Amy’s parents as a present, and I was not going to waste the opportunity!  We had to arrive at the border before 4.00pm, or else we would miss the border closing time, and then God knows what would happen. 

Our departure was hampered by a few wrong turns which ended in a huge blazing row between all three of us.  This eventually escalated to us all screaming at each other at the side of the road, while truckers drove past waiving and smiling, completely unaware that we were having our worst argument to date (we have only had two.)   We stopped eventually and calmed down, agreeing afterwards that this stress had come about by our constant traveling and rushing to get to the next stop without any respite, and that we all need a break from each other soon.  It is also due to the danger which feels very close now.

We are driving into one of the most hazardous areas in the world, or so the press and government would have us believe. This has been a constant source of conversation and worry for us all over the last few weeks, and now the stress is really starting to show.  It is true that we all need a break, and this was always part of the plan, to have rest times, when we could be alone for a few days or a week, but it never seems to have happened, and now that we were discussing it as a matter of urgency, my first reaction was one of anger and frustration.  I felt like the others were giving up and abandoning me.  But of course after some thought, and time to relax, it was clear that we all needed a break.  I just hope that Pakistan is able to offer us an opportunity to do something like this, or this problem may escalate even further.

After getting back in the truck, we drove on in relative silence until we reached a fuel station, the diesel pump was being refilled and the attendant told us to wait for 15 minutes until this was complete.  I waited while Rowan and Gabby went over to sit and talk at the other side of the station.  Next to the Wolf was a bus also waiting for fuel, when they saw us the occupants streamed out and surrounded the car.  They were young soldiers and were very interested in the vehicle and saying hello.  I couldn’t help but feel a bit silly knowing that I was wearing this bullet proof jacket, and was so over prepared, but the boys were very nice and we had a good laugh together while we waited.

The pumps took almost 45 minutes to refill, and when the job was complete, the attendant had to manually re-prime the pump before he was able to start fuelling the queue of vehicles which had grown very long.  Luckily my new soldier friends took charge, and managed to squeeze me in front of the rest of the trucks and buses that were waiting. I don’t know why, but I felt like something was a bit wrong when I filled the two tanks, but I paid and waived goodbye to the soldiers.  One of them came and kissed me three times, an Iranian gesture which means that the persons really thinks a lot of you, I have got used to it, but must admit that it’s just a little freaky for us stiff upper lip types!

As we drove off, I noticed a slight drop in power and that the engine seemed to “top out” much earlier than before.  I decided to keep an eye on things, but was panicking that we were experiencing any kind of difficulties at such a crucial time.  Due to the tension in the air I didn’t feel like I could talk about the problem too much, for fear of upsetting the others, so I kept driving, but was unable to go over 105km/h.

We arrived at the border at 3.00pm with plenty of time and drove into the border town to try and find some cheap fuel before entering Pakistan and it’s more normal fuel costs at 50 cents a litre.  The place was just like Pakistan had been described to us, and everyone wore the knee length shirts and looked like Pakistanis.  Not unusual for a border town of course, but so very different to the Iran which we have become so used to.  At the fuel station the attendant refused to serve me, even with the offer of bakshish, and so we gave up and headed to the border crossing.  The trucks which sat around in the fuel station were fuel smugglers piled high with fuel containers, one machine read 4000 litres! 

As we drove up, an official pulled us over and made me sign into the customs compound, there were no signs telling us what to do, or where to go, and so we drove through to the next area, and parked up trying to find the place where we could get the carnet completed.  Some truckers pointed to another building, so I walked in there, and a guard showed me to a booth, where an immigration officer stamped me out of Iran, and let me return to the car.  I told Rowan and Gabby to do the same, and then the three of us drove to the border crossing.  The guard at the crossing was very polite, and took our carnet from us.  But he soon came back and said that we had not completed the document.  I told him that we had been waived through, but he said that we must return to the building where we started.  We ran back, but the carnet office was closed, and the guard told me that it would not open until 9am the next day.

All the truckers standing around tried to help, but ended up making the universal sign for sleeping.  Which meant that we were to spend the night in no-mans land.  This was one of the worst possible outcomes.  We have left Iran, not entered Pakistan, and now we are locked in a complex with Iranian and Pakistani truck drivers, slap bang in the centre of the worlds most prolific Heroin smuggling area.  Already the truckers eyes looked darker, and as the night fell the frenzied activity grew, with everyone jostling for a position to get started tomorrow, and various people who seemed to live here in the no-mans land area skulking around.  When I returned to the truck and told the others the situation no-one was very amused, but in light of the bad situation, we tried to be positive.

There was a small restaurant in the complex which we walked over to, and ordered some food.  The waiter, Ali, told us that he previously worked in a tourist hotel and was very kind to us.  He could see that we were worried and more than a little stranded, and made us feel a bit better about the situation.  After eating we discovered that this border crossing sports one of the planets worst toilets, and that we would definitely not be washing in there in the morning!  As we were leaving, the restaurant staff were preparing a pipe to smoke some opium. A sight that we tried hard not to stare at while we paid and left.  When we got back to the truck, we put up the roof tent and climbed in to watch a movie before falling asleep.

Distance driven 600kms

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