In Search of Another Spiritual Experience

There is a very special viewing place right next door to the Eagles' Nest Hotel known locally as the "Duikar View Point". More like a huge disturbed man-made mound, rather than a naturally formed hill, it is a wonderful spot to sit and watch the sun rise - or set - over the Hunza Valley, with full views of some of the most spectacular and glorious mountain peaks in the world.

In 2011, we visited northern Pakistan, staying at Duikar and of course in the Eagle's Nest Hotel at Duikar. Alan was sick so I went for a walk on my own just before sunrise. Here I experienced what I could only describe as a surreal and almost spiritual occurrence right at the top of the View Point. I am not in any way religious but I will never forget the startling personal impact of this extraordinary euphoric experience. Here is my description (refer travelogue "Secret Threads of the Old Silk Road - Turkmenistan, Iran, Pakistan and China"):

"In a pre-dawn dusk I began my walk to our favourite "hill" or what the locals call "The View Point" just behind the Eagle's Nest Hotel to watch the sun rise.... Even though it was quite dark, the sky appeared to be cloudy and I feared that I may not be able to witness the very special dawn for which Duikar is so famous. Furthermore, the clouds seemed to be closing in, clinging to the mountain peaks and obscuring their wonderful craggy summits.

The walk to the top of the hill, whilst only taking some five minutes or so, was extraordinarily steep and at a elevation of 2,900 meters the climb really took my breath away. But the views at the top were even more breathtaking. In the total silence of the pre-dawn I sat waiting for the sun to rise and an opportunity to photograph my favourite mountain Lady Finger or Bublimating, a distinctive razor sharp rock spire of some 6,000 meters in the Batura Mustagh, the western most sub-range of the Karakoram Mountains.

As the first rays of sun began to warm my back I heard a faint whine of an aircraft overhead. It must have been at a very high altitude as try as I might I could not see it. I thought idly of whether it may be one of the US drones that had been dropping bombs in Waziristan Province. Who knows...

Ominous Clouds Shrouding Lady Finger Peak - 2011

And suddenly the clouds cleared enough for me to take a number of photos. I sat perched on the hill top, the sun now providing some much needed warmth. The wait was worthwhile, the clouds dissolved and I was finally able to see the magnificent knife sharp spire of Lady Finger.  

I was totally on my own and even looking down into the Duikar village, there was not a soul to be seen. I was thoroughly absorbed by the euphoria of a dawn solitude at Duikar. It was a most bizarre yet ecstatic experience...."

On a dark, bitterly cold and drizzly morning, I made my way to the View Point. It fortunate that it was so dark as I could not read the notice at the base stating that it was no longer a public place or tourist site, but was private property belong to His Highness Prince Agha Khan Shia Imami - and that "No visitors or groups are allowed to enter the said property. In case of violating the notice, this council shall be capable for appropriate legal action against the violators...". Not very welcoming...*

*I am informed that this notice is not correct and that in fact, visitors are welcome. The View Point land was given back to the Agha Khan because of local squabbling over the ownership. If this is the case, it may be a good idea to remove the sign? 

The tracks to the summit were in places almost vertical and stumbling through the rocky slope at such a high altitude, my heart pounded and my chest felt like it was encapsulated in a giant rubber band. In the pale dawn light I was disturbed to see the hill was littered with food containers and masses of cigarette butts, and the natural vegetation crushed by what had obviously been a lot of foot traffic. It was not a good start to my spiritual experience.

Over the last years, a lot of people in my life had died quite suddenly, including my parents. It is not surprising when you are in your sixties. For some bizarre reason, I thought that my pilgrimage to Duikar summit would perhaps be one place in the world where I just may be able to communicate with them. It was of course stupid, I know. 

I perched on one of the curiously eroded rocks, waiting for the sun to rise and to hopefully get a good shot of Lady Finger once again, also awaiting my much anticipated "spiritual experience". An eerie golden sunlight illuminated the surrounding mountains, but the low clouds were ominously heavy.

Things were not going to plan. Instead of the clouds parting as they had on my last visit in 2011, gloomy veils of fog began to settle over the mountains, then right over the summit of the View Point. In the still pre-dawn coldness I waited for my great moment of exultation - and perhaps my time to be with those passed.

And guess what happened? Absolutely frigg'n nothing. Then the clouds did part and it poured with rain. It certainly put a sober ending to my much awaited euphoric experience!

As I slid down what had rapidly become a slippery muddy track back to the hotel, I cursed at my ridiculous expectations. Not only had I missed out on what I hoped would be a wonderful dawn and the opportunity for some great shots of Lady Finger, I was sopping wet and covered in mud. My humour was not improved by returning to our hotel room. There was no electricity and it was freezing cold. Alan had only just woken so thoroughly dejected, I went to bed to try to warm myself.

A Leisurely Start to the Day....

Camp Granada Syndrome again... I had just finished writing an email to Sue, my good friend back in Australia, of course lamenting our miserable situation at Eagle's Nest when the electricity came back on, our room lamps lit up and the air conditioner began to turn over. In the light and warmth, even the basic room was starting to look better. And then the sun came out illuminating our little balcony and beaming on the surrounding mountains and Hunza Valley. Needless to say, my humour was improving...

It was disappointing however, to find that the service at Eagle's Nest had certainly dropped off. Even though it was well past 8.00 am, we had to wake the staff who were asleep on the floor of the dining area. Breakfast when it finally arrived was very ordinary with a very limited amount of food, most of which we had to ask for.



During the evening before, we had talked about our itinerary for the coming day. As we had never travelled to the Nagyr Valley, we asked Jan if it was possible to do a morning visit, which he said would be absolutely fine as he didn't have any formal plans for our day at Duikar.

Nagyr Valley is located on the opposite side of the Hunza River and as it just a short distance from Duikar, a visit there gave us enough time to enjoy a slow morning and some coffee on the hotel terrace. Looking over the splendid views from the hotel of the gorgeous mountains and Hunza Valley, we agreed this was the Eagle's Nest we remembered so well. Perhaps the lack of service was just a temporary aberration. We hoped so.

We were delighted to be back with our old friend and driver Khaja who lived closeby in the upper reaches of Karimabad with his wife and amazingly large family of eleven children. He had been a wonderful driver during our past tours and as mentioned, he was regarded as part of Ishaq Ali's family. After all, Ishaq's family lived just opposite Khaja's house and both families had been friends for generations. A reserved and private man, Khaja had initially been quite distant with us but on our last trip in 2011, despite not speaking any English, he had become much more friendly. Like Ishaq, we thought the world of him.

After a rainy start to the morning, we were treated to a picture perfect day; the sun pouring over the glossy green pastures and neat stone fenced farm plots of Duikar. Most of the plots were terraced, supporting healthy looking crops of potatoes, maize and lucerne. We had often wondered about the seeming mono-culture of these areas. According to our guides, the local Duikar people had farmed the same crops for centuries and yet, there didn't appear to be a problem with plant disease. Chipping for weeds was undertaken by women wearing long traditional dress, with headscarves. How they managed in what would appear to be the most cumbersome attire, has always been beyond us. We saw very few tractors; most of the labour appearing to be carried out manually. Low stone huts acted as animal shelters for sheep and goats, testament to the bitterly cold conditions that can prevail in these high alpine areas.

As we drove out of Duikar, two young girls waved to us. The people of the Hunza have always been so friendly and welcoming. Little did we know that we were in for rather a surprise in Nagr Valley and although Jan assured me it was not necessary, I was soon to regret not taking a headscarf with me.

A Visit to Nagyr Valley

Although the district is commonly referred to as "The Hunza", the valley actually comprises the two former Princely States of Hunza and Nagyr, both of which were ruled as independent states for hundreds of years. Nagyr is the area roughly to the south of the overall valley which is dissected by the Hunza River. On the lower south-eastern side the Hunza River converges with its tributary, the Nagyr River and the surrounding area is home to the villages of Nagyr and Hopar, and the famous Hopar Glacier. Like the Hunza, the main industry is agriculture.

Nagyr is a very conservative area and unlike the Hunza, whose main religion is Ismaili Islam, the main religion of the Nagyr Valley is Shia Usuli Islam, one of the main Shia groups. 



Our morning visit to Nagyr took us down the south-eastern road along the Nagyr River toward Hopar. The countryside appeared softer than that of the Hunza, but again most of the farming was confined to the river flats and surrounding hillside terraces. Our winding country road was lined with poplars and other cool climate deciduous trees. Occasionally we would see fine looking horses grazing on the abundant verdant pastures. In the far distance were the snow clad massifs of Rakaposhi and Diran peaks. It was simply beautiful countryside and a wonderful morning drive.

As we rounded a corner near Hopar, we came across a number of veiled women doing their washing in the nearby stream. There were clothes, blankets and sheets hanging to dry everywhere. The women looked down and away from our vehicle. Even in regional Pakistan, we found it amazing that people still used a local river to wash. Needless to say, all the labourers were women, with not a male to be seen. And then we didn't see another woman for the duration of our visit to Nagyr.

Hopar Valley is actually a number of villages clustered around a natural depression of the Hopar (Barpo) Glacier. The majority of the people in this region speak Burushaski. A curiosity for linguists, Burushaski is a spoken rather than written language with very little similarities to other language groups.

 

We stopped for morning tea at a little café perched high above the road with stunning views of the surrounding valleys and mountains. At the rear of the property was the famous Hopar (Barpo) Glacier, a rather dirty grey and white morain covered mass with an extraordinarily rugged surface. The owner of the café told us that for some ten years, the glacier had been retreating because of global warming issues related to climate change. As glaciers are vital to the viability of agriculture of this region and we could well understand local concern about the impact on the economy of any lessening in glacial melts.

Not surprisingly, the owner asked us if we would like to look in his jewellery shop. He had some nice pieces with local gem stones at a very reasonable price which we were more than happy to purchase. After all, tourists are quite a rarity in Pakistan.

Our last stop was at Hopar. The busy, dusty small village was jam packed with motor bike trailers, jeeps, small vans and tractors. Khaja stopped our jeep outside a sign reading "30 Beded Hospital, Nagyr" and both he and Jan disappeared for about half an hour. 

The crowded village which was obviously an important agricultural centre for Nagyr was fascinating. Outside one of the schools an interesting sign read "Genius Without Education is like Leaving Silver in the Mine". But in the literally hundreds of people in the streets, there was strangely not a woman nor for that matter a child, to be seen. As we left the car to explore the village, men stared hard at us both, but mostly at me. I could have kicked myself for not taking a head scarf and decided that I was better off to stay in the car while Alan took some photos. We got the message loud and clear. It was not a friendly place to be.

 

Surprisingly, we have only on very few occasions during our many travels through Pakistan, found the locals to be unfriendly. One notable time was in Gilgit one afternoon as we walked up the main road highly conscious of me being angrily stared at by the older religious men - and that above us on the shop roofs were snipers with roving machine guns! The only other time was at Chilas, another very conservative town where we had chilling experience with a man at a petrol station trying to attack our car. We were relieved when we finally left Chilas and we were pleased to be on our way from Hopar too. 

As we left Hopar, we drove past a huge sign sprayed graffiti style with "Amarican Dog". Another read: "Down with the US!" We may not have been Americans but we were certainly not welcome. 

A Visit to Ishaq Ali's Family at Upper Karimabad

On our way back, we stopped to visit Ishaq Ali's family home in upper Karimabad. We had met his family on two previous occasions and had struck a wonderful rapport with them. Ishaq's father, once personal advisor to the last Mir of the Hunza and his brother (our then guide Sadruddin's father and Ishaq's uncle) had been wonderful hosts. We had such happy memories of meeting them and Sadruddin's brother Badruddin for tea in the lovely rose gardens of their family home (the time we last visited, Ishaq's mother was ill and very sadly later died).

 

Ishaq's father on this occasion was nearly one hundred years of age, and as to be expected had become a bit more frail and was suffering from some memory issues. His brother however, looked fantastic and although he had some hearing problems, he was his usual full of fun self. We thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon. Badruddin was the perfect host, treating us with home made biscuits and bowls of cherries freshly picked from their gardens. It was indeed a real privilege to have the opportunity to meet up with them once again.

A Detour Via Karimabad

In the mid afternoon, we stopped at Karimabad on our way back to Duikar. In the past we had bought some fine lapis jewellery there and we were keen to re-visit some of the old shops whose owners we had come to know during our past visits. We were also keen to call into the Café de Hunza whose walnut cake was legendary - and also to look through their interesting bookshop I had visited on a number of past occasions.

Sadly the shops were not well stocked - a sign of tough times - but the people were lovely to talk with. The Café de Hunza bookshop was all but closed down; the owner lamenting that these days young people were not interested in buying books when they could read on the Internet. A sad sign of the times...  

We didn't end up buying anything but we once again ran into our young Korean friend! She was fine and we were pleased to hear she was thoroughly enjoying herself in downtown Karimabad. 

You really don't see many tourists in Pakistan these days. Surprisingly just after we met our Korean friend, we passed a robust, young blonde woman walking briskly up the road toward Duikar. This 11 kilometer stretch of narrow winding road is incredibly steep and at such a high altitude, it is no mean feat to reach Duikar village by foot. We asked Khaja to stop the car to see if she would like a lift. "God damn it - sorry, but no thanks..." she drawled in a distinctive southern American accent. "Say, I'm kinda hang'n in here try'n to get fit. I have a big mountain walk next week!" We laughed. But what we didn't say was the walk at this late stage would not be much help. But she smiled and waved us on. We wondered later how her mountaineering fared...

An Evening Dinner at Khaja's House

Khaja had apparently invited us to his house for dinner. Tired as we were, we knew it was a great privilege and we gratefully accepted his offer. Generous Khaja had also accommodated Jan in his home. Jan had been staying in one of the tents on the Eagle's Nest property which would have been even more icy than our freezing room - or maybe with our lack of electricity - much the same...

It was dusk when we arrived at Khaja's house. Jan looked at us and said seriously "Well this is where your trekking starts". We laughed. Little did we know that the route from Khaja's front gate to his house would take us about 15 minute of walking up some of the steepest and scariest mountain trails we had ever been on! And for the first time in weeks, I decided to wear some dress shoes that were of course totally unsuited for such formidable trekking...

Khaja's family was delightful. It was the first time we had met them and they cooked us a wonderful dinner which we ate in candle light, sitting on cushions on the floor. It was the best meal we had eaten for a long time. I looked at Alan who at the height of some six foot five, does not sit comfortably on floors - and after a few hours, I wondered how he would even get up let alone trek back down the mountainside on the unbelievably steep trails. In fact, I became so obsessed about the walk back in pitch darkness, that I could think of nothing else. Alan later admitted he was having the very same thoughts!

When it was time to leave, Khaja's family of course came to the rescue. It was however, a terrifying journey with just dim torches held by his agile daughters (as well as my arm!) leading the way. It seemed to take hours to descend but finally we reached Khaja's jeep. Heaving a deep sigh of relief we both collapsed on the seats, grateful that neither of us had killed ourselves - or dragged anyone else over with us! 

It was a wonderful day and we certainly slept well that night....