with meat , rice , and spices … many spices ! We were finally able to relax in the cool evening air , the girls had even lucked into getting a VIP room at the hotel ! To say that my room was dirty and untidy would ’ ve been a significant understatement . Yet , it had a bed and a shower , it was all that I cared for .
Discussing our first day in Pakistan , a group of a dozen heavily armed men had appeared . They were sporting a different kind of uniform , all with more sophisticated weapons and looking strict and tense . The hotel workers we were chatting to suddenly went incredibly quiet . The military men were from a special forces unit and were just checking on us . They stood silently for a few minutes , an eerily uncomfortable feeling .
“ Are you guys still alive ?”, a text message came through from one of the German girls who had already gone back to her room .
“ There are 10 heavily armed men banging on my door now . I think I shit my pants .” An uncomfortable situation for all .
The following day we continued our desert ride to Quetta , the provincial capital .
The young and very friendly hotel manager had printed tens of copies of our passports , visas , and bike details , to help the checkpoint processing go much faster . We could simply hand over the copies and continue on our way .
It wasn ’ t long before we found ourselves in a sandstorm . The sand was being thrown up by the truck in front of me , straight at my bike and helmet . It later proved to be a problem as my air filter became clogged quite badly . Finding a replacement in Pakistan proved impossible .
The decorating of trucks is an art in Pakistan . Colourful , stunningly beautiful , you won ’ t find any two that look the same . We were to see many
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