TRAVERSE 171
some of Pakistan’ s greatest highaltitude climbers. You arrive exhausted, arms aching from wrestling the handlebars, only to be greeted by children running to meet you and elders beckoning you into stone houses. Within minutes, as always, there is tea. Sweet, scalding, restorative tea, served with a smile that makes you forget every terrifying switchback. A road described by one of the elders as“ the track through hell that leads directly to heaven”.
Then there is Chapursan, further north still, beyond Sost and almost kissing the Afghan border. The road unravels into dust, stretching across a valley where the Hindu Kush, Pamirs, and Karakoram meet. Here, Kyrgyz herders move with their flocks, Sufi shrines stand sentinel on ridges, and the silence feels eternal. Yet just when the loneliness sets in, someone appears— a shepherd, a schoolteacher, a police patrol— and the ritual repeats. Hands shake, helmets are admired, and tea is poured.
TRAVERSE 171