Entry three.

Friday 18^th of May. It is four days ago that I last took the time and had the time to write an entry in this blog. Life has accelerated into a meal stream from which there has been no escaping.

The events of the last two days have been almost too much for words but that is the way a blog works so here I go; On Tuesday the 15^th we got woken just a tad to early by the arrival of the fifth member of our group, Dimitry from Russia. A sleep-in would have been nice but it was not to be, Dimy had a lot of stories to tell. Never mind, we had a full program to work through with him anyway so we needed all the time in the day. We went back and forth through town to change money, pay for tickets, buy data on the prepaid phone card, sort out insurance and to have one last luxury meal at the” Once upon a thyme” restaurant.  It is another stinking hot day and we are all praying to Allah for a clear day in the morrow, allowing us to fly out to the cool mountain air of Chitral. In the evening we have a last cup of chai with the hotel owner who serves us all a piece of chocolate cake to celebrate mother’s day. The people have been great in this dirty big town. Total strangers pay for our lunch or stop us on the road to offer their help, office staff has been helpful and gracious and everybody shakes hands, from security guards to restaurant staff. The only bug is the young guys that try to sell us their fake sunglasses while we are wearing the real Mc Coy on our nose.

Wednesday the 16^th. It is a clear morning when we get up at 4.30am. The weather forecast for the mountains is good too so it looks like our prayers have been answered. As we are five now we get the night watch of the hotel to order us two taxis. With the gliders tied on the roof we squeeze into the little cars and drive through the empty streets for the third time. We breeze through the check-in and have an hour to spare before boarding. The tension rises when the official boarding time nears and then passes. The previous day I have asked Sajjad to give me a quote for the rental of a minivan with driver in case we would, again, not be able to fly. The prospect of driving all the way, a three day trip, fills me with dread. The minutes tick away and then, literally, the fat lady sings and asks the passengers for flight 660 to come to the gate. I hold my breath and hope silently. Sometimes the plane gets turned around halfway through the flight so I don’t dare express my elation. Seven days in this hot city has taken its toll and I really want to get out of here, nice people or not.

We fly first to Peshawar to drop off some passengers and then climb higher and higher to cross the Hindu Kush Mountains at the Lowari pass. It is like a load slides from my shoulders and a feeling of euphoria comes over me. The plane flies so close to the mountains that detail is visible. The colors of the rock, the big cedars, the patches of green in the valley, it all looks familiar and makes me feel at home. We descent into the Chitral valley and get a glimpse of the bulk of Tirich Mir Mountain and the summer palace take off site before we touch down in a sunny but windy Chitral.

Sijad, one of the local Paragliding boys is at the airport to pick us up. Farhad, the Kings son, is away for a few days and has organized his nephew to welcome us.

We got taken straight to the police station to register. Two years ago we went through this rigmarole as well so we knew what was coming. However, this time we are not pressured into accepting a bodyguard or given the option to sign a waiver to take responsibility for our own safety. We get told to come back in the afternoon to meet the head honcho, the district officer of police. When we leave the police station an armed policeman follows us to our hotel and is stationed in the garden. We find our little hotel from two years ago unchanged and are all happy with this Garden of Eden. The Honey suckle on the fence is in full bloom and spreads a heady odor around the place. Lots of people remember us from two years ago and news of our arrival spreads like wildfire. This meeting with the DPO worries me and I'm not to enthusiastic to unpack all my stuff right away. The gravity of the situation becomes clear soon enough. We all cram into the office, the five of us and a few of the local pilots. The DPO is a career administrator with a bossy wife at home. He acts like an emperor, ignoring you one moment and smiling at you another while trying to intimidate you with hollow words. He tells us that the security situation has changed from the last time we were here and that we will need a guard with us everywhere we go. We have already heard that this man is overzealous and self important and this meeting only confirms it. The short of it is that we will not be allowed to fly unless we get a piece of paper to relief him from his responsibilities to protect us. Obtaining such documents would take weeks which is time we don’t have. The local pilots are angry and shattered. The Chitraly people are warm, peaceful and honest people. The behavior of the police officer is an offence to them and they are genuinely distraught. As for us, we are pissed of no-one told us about this situation before and our only option is to move east to Hunza, away from the Afghan border. The locals are not giving up though and arrange a meeting with the District Head Administrator the next morning. At the same time the president of Paff is also informed as is Farhad, the descendant of the royal family here and a Paragliding pilot himself.

 In the evening we are invited to dinner at Saijad’s house. He takes us for a stroll through his part of town and it dawns on me that this is probably the last bit I get to see from this wonderful place.

The meeting next morning doesn’t change anything obvious to us. We get news from the Paff that the necessary paperwork would take up to two weeks to process so we spend the rest of the day being despondent and start to organize our trip to Hunza. We collect the box with oxygen equipment we send ahead from Rawalpindi and have a good time finding a place to fill them. In the evening we have another great meal with one of the local pilots, kind of a last supper.

18thMay.  I get up at six to secure a Jeep to take us to Mastuje.  After some asking around I find the taxi that does the trip daily between the two towns and buy all the seats on it so we have private transport. While we are having breakfast Farhad shows up. He has driven through the night to get back to Chitral in time to stop us leaving. He asks us to put the taxi on hold for an hour while he is having a meeting with the head of the ISI of the area. ISI stands for Inter Service Intelligence. While we are waiting I get a call from the Paff president, Sajjad Shah, with a request to write an Email to the Minister of Tourism of Pakistan to explain our predicament. Apparently there have been complaints about this DPO before and the minister is taking an interest in our case.  While Alex and Grey compose the letter I deal with the taxi driver who is getting anxious to leave. I pay him half of the fare and send him on his way. Shortly after, Farhad comes back from the meeting at the ISI with the news that we would be able to get permission but it would take a week or so. We decide to leave anyway and somehow another driver shows up that I had been trying to contact as he has a service that could take us all the way to Gilgit and Karimabad. Somehow I get most of the money back from the first taxi and we agree on a price with the new driver. We decide to leave after lunch and after the driver has done his prayers. While we are standing around after lunch waiting for the driver, a messenger from the DPO arrives and summons us back to the police station. My first reaction is to throw our bags on the Jeep and do a runner. I'm affright that the DPO is a pissed of puppy that would like to chew on some bits of foreign tourist. Then Farhad shows up as well and brings us the news. Strings have been pulled, phone calls made and persuasion used and we can stay and fly in Chitral! The meeting with the DPO is surreal but the outcome is that we are free to fly, except for a few areas along the border with Afganistan. We need to report in when we land and we need to take a guard with us on the drive to the launch area. We all are exhausted after this day. It has been an emotional rollercoaster ride. The good thing is that the weather hasn’t been flyable over the last two days and as soon as we got the news the sun broke through and the forcast for the next day is great!  PS. No photos this time as internet is to slow.