(Daniel) To cross in daylight the Iranian side of the Baluchistan desert, we needed to get on the road as early as possible. Last night, I had removed my bullet proof jacket from it’s place under my seat. This morning I put it on under my ski jacket in the room. This next couple of days are the reason why I brought the jacket, given to me by Amy’s parents as a present. By my calculations, we had to arrive at the border before 4.00pm, or else we would miss the border closing time, and then be stranded in a very dangerous part of the world.
Our early departure was hampered by a few wrong turns which ended in a huge blazing row between all three of us. I had complained at the others struggling to give me directions, this eventually escalated to us all screaming at each other at the side of the road. As we vented at each other, trucks drove past, honking, waiving and smiling, unaware that we were having our worst argument to date (we have only really 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 needed a break from each other soon. Of course, it was also due to the high stress levels, caused by a feeling of imminent danger.
We would now be driving into one of the most hazardous areas in the world, or so the press and our own governments would have us believe. This stage of the route has been a constant source of consternation 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, but also that Rowan and Gabby did not plan for this type of journey. The difference between perception and reality was now unavoidably forcing itself upon us. I was mostly to blame, as we discussed having rest times, when we could be alone for a few days or a week, but it never seems to have happened. I had been unreasonable in complaining about the map reading, and should have been more aware of the effect of my attitude. Now that we were discussing urgently taking a break, my emotional reaction was one of anger and frustration. I felt like the others were giving up and abandoning the expedition. Of course, after some thought and time to relax, it was clear that we all need a break. I just hope that Pakistan is able to offer an opportunity to do something like this, or this problem will likely escalate even further.
After getting back in the truck, we drove on in an uncomfortable 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 this was more for the section after the border crossing, which was still an unknown.
The pumps took almost 45 minutes to refill, further delaying our journey. When the job was complete, the attendant had to manually re-prime the pump before he was able to start fuelling the long and frustrated queue of trucks. Luckily my new soldier friends took charge, and managed to squeeze me in front. I don’t know why, but I felt like something was a bit wrong when I filled the two tanks. I paid and waived goodbye to the soldiers, one of them came and kissed me three times, an Iranian gesture which I have gotten used to it, but must admit that it’s just a little odd for us stiff upper lip types.
Back on the highway, I noticed a drop in power and that the engine seemed to “top out” much earlier than before. I decided to keep an eye on things, and was uneasy that we were experiencing any kind of mechanical difficulties at such a crucial time. Due to the tension in the air, I didn’t feel like I could talk about the problem, 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 which should be enough 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 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 pump readout displayed 4,000 litres.
As we approached the checkpoint, 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, but we drove through to the next area 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. 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. It turns out that the border runs on Pakistan time, which is half an hour different to Iran, the office had therefore closed earlier than expected.
The truckers standing around tried to help, but to no avail. They ended up making the universal sign for sleeping. Which I took to mean that my worst fear had happened, and that we were now forced to spend the night in no-mans land. We had left Iran, and not entered Pakistan, and were now locked in the border complex with Iranian and Pakistani truck drivers, bang in the crucible of the worlds most prolific Heroin smuggling region. Already the people around began to look darker, and as the night fell a frenzied activity grew, with everyone jostling for position to get through the night. Aside from the transient drivers, various people who seemed to live in the no-mans land area were now skulking around. People began to light tyres and oil drums on fire, and stand around them in small groups. The scene had a very post apocalyptic feel. When I returned to the truck and told the others the situation, the looks on my friends faces were truly heart breaking. I knew that following the argument this morning and the stresses that had built up, this could be a catastrophic last straw. In light of the bad situation, we tried to be positive, and no one spoke up as we prepared for the night. I managed to hide the Wolf as best as possible, between some other trucks and behind a lamp post.
There was a small restaurant in the complex which sold us some food. The waiter, Ali, was very kind to us. He could see that we were worried and more than a little stranded, and made us feel better about the situation. After eating we discovered that this border crossing also sports one of the planets worst toilets, that we would definitely not be washing in, come 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, the drivers of our neighbouring vehicles could see our situation, and signalled to us that they would keep an eye out tonight. We put up the roof tent and climbed in, watching a movie to take our minds off the danger, before falling into a fitful sleep.
Distance driven 600kms