(Daniel) I cannot emphasise how much I wanted out of this place. In Preparation for the desert crossing, we woke before dawn, poured the remaining jerry cans into the tanks, cleaned the air filter, checked and topped up the oil, and checked everything over thoroughly. As soon as this was done, I walked over and sat outside the carnet office, ready to be the first person through the door when it opened. Eventually the staff did turn up, and I pushed in the door behind them as truckers appeared from everywhere to get their own carnets and vehicle papers signed.
It was a real struggle to get seen. The once polite Iranians, suddenly crazed and desperate. Everyone thrust their paperwork forward at once, and then reached through the gap in the window, pulling their own papers to the top of the pile. I watched a few people do this, and then copied their method for myself. The stress levels were very high, but Rowan and Gabby were relying on me to get us through customs as fast as possible. We had to start driving early, to get the best chance of crossing the Baluchistan desert in one day, and despite my best efforts, we had already been trying for three hours.
Eventually persistence paid off and I was awarded an inspector. We walked out to the vehicle together and he checked it over. He looked confused and clearly had no idea what he was doing. On our return to the office, his frustrated superior had to come out again. While I waited for the superior I noticed that some drivers didn’t require an inspection, instead they just walked into the office and opened a drawer in an unused desk. Here they shoved big piles of cash, and closed the drawer again. Although I would normally be appalled at this, I found myself wishing I had a pile of cash. I had decided ever before leaving that bribery and corruption are not for our trip, and that we would follow the correct path through these areas, as we are doing everything above board. The officer finally inspected the vehicle, then stamped our carnet, and we were free to go through to the border crossing again. Excitedly, I ran back to the truck, and we drove around to the gates.
As we crossed from Iran into Pakistan a strange thing happened. On the Iran side of the gate is a modern tarmac border crossing, with buildings and car parks. As you cross the fence, it is into a huge wasteland, with dirt and potholes, mud buildings, and markets all around. We drove through, and pulled up next to the first shack. Here we were ushered through and issued with Visa stamps. They didn’t even find my visa, and instead gave me one on arrival. I remember queuing for hours for that visa and was most upset that it was completely unnecessary! Next we were treated to our first taste of colonial bureaucracy, in a courtroom like customs office, where we were sat down far on the other side of the the room, then called up one by one by a very polite man who took details from each of us. We stifled giggles as like a comedy sketch, he called our names and made us stand up, then sit down, then stand up again. Next was the carnet. The official didn’t even inspect the vehicle, he simply entered the details into a huge ledger, and then welcomed me to Pakistan. I walked back to the car, where Rowan was sitting with some guards drinking tea. We have drunk so much tea in Iran that I was getting bored of it, but here in Pakistan they drink a stewed milky tea, similar to chai.
As we drove out of the border crossing, and into the border town of Taftan, we spotted the elaborate trucks which this area is known for, the people decorate them like temples and must spend fortunes. I would love to get at least some of the Wolf done like this, and will keep an eye out for an opportunity. We stopped briefly to lock our valuables inside the security chests and hide our money in the secret places, dotted around the vehicle, then headed out onto the dusty single lane road through the Balochistan desert. As we drove, the sand had crept across the road in many places. More worryingly I noticed that our top speed had now dropped to 98km/h, and that the flat spots were decidedly more frequent than before.
After around 100kms we came to a checkpoint. The guards, dressed in black and holding machine guns made me get out and fill in a ledger, then the asked me to take their picture while they posed together. I get a feeling that this will be a normal occurrence, and took their photo before driving on at speed to try and get to a main town before dark. The scenery in Balochistan was rugged, wild and amazing. Endless blue sky, beautiful desert, colourful trucks and tough people. Everyone waived as we drove through, and I found it difficult to believe that this is the place that we have been dreading for so long. By now, daylight was running out, and we would not make it to Quetta today. As we reached the town of Dalbandin, we decided to stop and look for a place to stay.
The Lonely Planet said that there was a rest house. Some kind of police compound that we could stop in and be safe, but we couldn’t find it. As we drove around we stopped to ask at a customs inspection point, but the friendly officer waived us inside, and asked what we wanted. “Sleep? This way!” He exclaimed, when I asked for a place to stay, and parked us in a corner of the large hi walled mud compound. The place was completely secure and these men were police, so we felt like this was perfect for our needs, perhaps it was the spot we were looking for. As we unpacked, the same guard brought his Field Commander to meet us.
This was a real character of a man, and despite very little english, he insisted on us taking several photos of him, first with his guard, then with us, and then with his horse. We took the photos, and felt more than a bit guilty when he made us agree that we would try and send copies to him. I noticed also that the Police had a crop of Marijuana growing in the compound, at which the Field Commander simply said “You, no. Me, yes.” After we had unpacked the Field Commander took us for tea in the Mess, and then let us wash up before dinner. While we washed, the friendly guard returned and showed us his quarters. He was very proud to tell us of his two wives and seven children. He said he hardly ever sees them, as he obviously lived here in the compound.
We returned to the Mess for dinner, goat curry with rice and bread, which actually tasted great. After eating, we sat back to relax, but a group of other guards returned, AK 47s in hand, they piled up the weapons, and the guard motioned at us to move aside. Then, sitting down the guards ate quickly in shifts, scooping up the curry in the bread by making little pockets with it. The cooks doled out food as fast as the men could eat it, and the whole sitting was over in an hour. We thanked our hosts, and walked back to the truck to watch a movie laptop and sleep.
First impressions of Pakistan, Lovely hospitable people, lots of guns, potential for very bad roads!
Distance driven 390kms