20^th May

After our trouble with the DPO got resolved the sun broke through and the next day dawned crystal clear. After breakfast we ordered a taxi and organized our equipment. Our last hurdle before we can drive up the hill is then presenting itself. As a retaliatory measure for standing up to the DPO he tries to force us to pay for an extra Jeep to take 5 guards up to the launch site. Our friend Farhad tells the lower ranked police to be reasonable and send us on our way with just one guard. The last problem before we are allowed to go is the guard himself who wants to sit in the front seat so he has a free range to shoot. We stand firm and after half an hour of arguing, phone calls and the arrival of the guards superior, we pack the guard in the back of the Jeep and we are go.

It is a forty minute drive to the launch site, climbing a thousand meters above the valley floor on a single lane track, bulldozed across big scree slopes that drop away steep inches away from the Jeep tires.

In the valley, spring is well advanced but up at the launch the trees are only just coming into leaf. From a blue sky in the morning it has developed into a cumulus garden around 11.30 and we lose no time getting ready to launch. We have two locals with us which we launch first as they are not used to fly in strong thermal conditions. We will need to get some radios sorted so we can talk them through some thermal action. For the moment they do just top to bottoms.  The thermals are strong and edgy and after a few passes I find a good one that takes me all the way to cloud base at 4300ASL. I want to take photos but every time I let go of my brakes I seem to fly into turbulence, which with this glider is not recommended.

 We boat around for a while above take off and then fly across to the east side of the main valley. Even though it is two years ago that we flew here, it all feels very familiar and I remember many of the key points where we used to find good lift or where we got a spanking.  We fly for a few hours till the sky start to darken to the South. I foresee some wind speed increase in the valley and turn around to decent to the town. As it works out, the wind has picked up already and I don’t quiet make it to the chosen landing field. I put down on the strip of dirt that is going to be the new bypass and Alex puts down right behind me. As I have flown over town there is a crowd of spectators the second I touch the ground. Some of them know about paragliding and pick up the glider before I have time to unclip or get out of my harness. Not to worry though, these people don’t have a dishonest bone in their body they are just curious and wanting to help. One calls our taxi driver and another the police to tell them that we have landed safely. Our guard shows up and people insist on carrying my gear back to the hotel which is just a few hundred meters away. Grey has landed on the Polo grounds and Dimitry and Glenn on the runway of the airport which is fine as there is only one plane per day that uses the airport.

Although this was only a short flight we all have found some things we want to adjust on our equipment to be ready for the big stuff. Finding space for the oxygen bottle and all the camping gear in the new light weight harnesses is a bit of a puzzle and some of us find out that flying with big gloves in small break handles is not easy.  We are all buzzing and looking forward to tomorrow.

PS. Photos later.

 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.

               

Blog entry two

Things are starting to move! Although we are still stuck in Islamabad, our tribe has multiplied itself to four pilots now. Glenn Stevens and Grey Hamilton did arrive on the 13^th , Glenn by plane from Europe and Grey by bus and taxi from Delhi. Today there actually is a chance that we go flying on a local site.

It is now evening and we did actually fly today.  Sajjad, the president of the PAFF, picked us up from our hotel with his four wheel drive and took us to a flying site about 50km from Rawalpindi. It was a relief to get out of town and see something else than concrete and cars. We slalomed our way through heavy traffic on the motorway and once on the smaller roads our eyes feasted on the greenery in the fields. Even if we would not have flown would it have been worth it, just to get out of town. As it happened it was flyable. We left our car at the landing field and out of nowhere materialized a Jeep to take us up the hill. I must have missed something when we stopped for a drink on the way and Sajjad must have organized the Jeep. A twenty minute drive on a rough track took us to the top of a ridge where the Paff has cleared a block of shrub to create a launch area. Again, out of nowhere, materialized some locals with tarpaulins to cover the rocks and protect our gliders and lines from snagging. We were maybe seven hundred meters above the valley floor and looked out over a half empty manmade lake. The chain of hills we stood on runs roughly NW-SE and disappeared into to misty air in the distance. The thermals were coming up the slope with regular intervals and I was soon ready to launch. We all had a nice flight with some decent height gain; it was nice to float around above 2000 meters altitude to enjoy the cool air. I attempted a little cross country flight but after flying across a wide valley I didn’t connect with the thermals on the other side and ended up landing two km short of the designated landing area. As is the rule in Pakistan, within minutes of landing there was a crowd standing around me with no’ one speaking English. The people are so nice here, even though we don’t speak the same language they insisted on carrying my gear out of the field and invite me into a house for a cup of tea. I wanted to stay on the road to catch a ride back to the landing area so they produced a seat for me to sit on in the shade of a tree and a thermos with sweet milk tea. Then someone with a good level of English turned up and things got organized. I could have easily walked back myself but they wanted to carry my stuff and so escorted me back to the landing zone. Everybody else had landed by that time and soon we were on our way back to Rawalpindi. Only when Sajjad mentioned food did I realize how hungry I was. Sajjad rang ahead and ordered his staff to prepare rice, curry and dhal and to cut up a watermelon and put it in the fridge. And so a good day became a great day, with a big meal dished up outside on the lawn in the shade of the mulberry tree. Pakistan Bring it on!!! PS some photos will follow.PSPS link to tracklog of the little flighthttp://www.paraglidingforum.com/leonardo/tracks/world/alltimes/

 A tarpaulin appears from nowhere

 View from above the launch

 Looking down on the launch site

 The mountains disappering in the mist

 My escort back to the car

 A feast back at Sajjads place

Not a dirty lens. Hundreds of kites( birds ) thermaling over Rawalpindi

Blog entry one 11-05-12

 I hate to admit it but Im a lot less resistant to the rigors of jetlag, heat and foreign food than two years ago. Im exhausted, uncomfortable and yes, the digestive tract is getting a hammering.

How long ago did I leave home? It is the 11^th today and I left Wanaka, New Zealand on the 6^th. Only  5 days!  I live such a protected, slow paced, life that the last 5 days feel more like 15.  

I left Auckland, New Zealand at sunset and didn’t see the next sunrise till I landed in Dubai, 18 hours later, the longest full moon Iv ever seen. I had a 15 hour layover in Dubai before catching my flight to Islamabad. Emirates puts you up in a hotel if your connecting flight is longer than 8hours from your arrival, which is a great escape from the airport scene.

 Two years ago Grey and I visited a few of the sights in Dubai and used the Metro to get around. This time I booked in for a whirlwind sightseeing tour that took us along the coastline in a minibus. The madness of the whole place keeps me amused and somehow I cant stop thinking of what will happen on the day of reckoning when all the people responsible for all this decadence will have to explain themselves. No, I have not turned religious, Im just disgusted with all the opulence.

 For some unknown reason to me the flights into Islamabad arrive at 2am, let’s say, an unholy hour. By the time I put my head down in my hotel I had been on the go for 38 hours.

It all is a very different experience from when I arrived here  two years ago. I know where to go, how much to pay and what to do. I had the address of the hotel we stayed in last time so I knew where to go, I know the cost of the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel so I can haggle with the driver and I can move confidentially without looking lost. 

Alex was arriving 24 hours after me and as he had not been to this place before I met him at the airport with a taxi waiting for us. Alex is an Aussi pilot that I met in Pokhara 18 months ago who is keen on some big mountain flying.

It is Friday the 11^th when Im writing this and we have been to the airport twice now to try and catch the plane to Chitral, our first flying site. This entails packing all the luggage, checking out of the hotel, catching a taxi to the airport, checking in, waiting for the cancelation, retrieve the luggage, rebook for the next day and catch the taxi back to the hotel. All that before 7am in the morning. Both times the flight has been canceled because of the weather. To reach Chitral the plane has to cross a 4000meter pass which has to be clear of cloud for the little plane to be able to cross it. We have looked at the weather forecast and it looks like the situation will not improve till Sunday, by which time the plane is full.  Our next possible flight will be on the 16^th which means that we have another four days to kill in Rawalpindi. Awesome!

The first two days here were full of action. Well, not really but a few things had to get organized before traveling on. As was the case two years ago, Sajjad from the PAFF, Pakistan Association For Free flying, was a great help getting things done. A SIM for my cell phone got organized, money changed, airline tickets bought  and I was able to find some gas canisters for my camping stove with Jabbars help. The local airline doesn’t  accept our oxygen bottles on the plane so they had to be shipped to Chitral with the passenger bus.

To speed up procedures in case of the need of a helicopter rescue, Brad sanders has put down a 10.000 US$ deposit with a local organization that leases between the army and the people needing  assistance. The helicopter would not get off the ground before payment is secured and this bond can be used till the individuals insurance pays out. Some signatures were required to formalize the deposit so we went to the office and had a nice discussion with the head of operations. This organization deals mainly with Mountaineering rescues so it was good to give them a clearer picture of what a paragliding rescue would entail.

After those two days I was feeling exhausted. The combination of jetlag and sudden heat has been fairly toxic. Now after two days of activity and two mornings getting up at 5am we are sliding into a lethargic state, laying in bed under the fan and air conditioner, walking over to the PAFF office to drink cups of tea and check Emails and go out for dinner.

I had promised myself not to pay too much attention to the lack of nice food in this part of the world but  Alex can’t give up on the notion of a nice European breakfast, pancakes with berry sauce and latte coffees. So we have found this little island of western civilization in the middle of an ocean of sub continental mayhem. And I must say, it is an uplifting experience to sit in an air-conditioned place where everything is clean, shiny and stylish. We needed a bid of uplifting as our next available flight out of here is not before the 16^th which means another 4 days waiting in this city with not much to do.

Vieuw over the Creek -