Sorry about bumping this up again, but this is the first time I've put any of this down since the event. I'm going to copy this when I'm done and use it at a later date.
"Anyone seen the bus to Chitral?"
So the decision was made, we would travel overland to Chitral rather than waste time waiting for an improvement in the weather so we could fly. Once more the baggage was collected together and we faced the army of taxi drivers desperate to get our business and find us a bus to Chitral. Tim picked one out who seemed reasonably confident that he could find us our required carriage, and off we went. This time we were entering the old part of Peshawar, unlike anything I've ever seen before with little sign of Western influence, a crazy cacophony of sound, smells and colour greeted us at every turn. Quite by chance we then came across two friends, Bart and Renatta who we had previously met at the Shalimar Hotel in Rawalpindi. They were off to join Chris Bonnington and a BBC television crew on an expedition to Nanga Parbat, (I found out later the expedition ran into serious problems.) They were taking time off for sightseeing and after a quick chat we said our farewells and continued our search for the bus to Chitral. Eventually we turned into a kind of market and were immediately surrounded by quite a large crowd of people, most of whom seem to want to touch us or tug at our clothing, it was a bit unnerving to say the least. Tim and Dave went off with someone who claimed they knew where the bus was, but came back saying it wasn't the right bus and we were in the wrong place. Off we went again, in search of the elusive bus to Chitral. This time we were traveling through back streets, chaotic jumbles of people, cars, animals and market stalls. I was beginning to wonder if the driver had understood our plight, all he had said was "Chitral, Chitral, yes, yes." But that didn't necessarily mean who knew what he was doing. After a few more miles of chaotic driving the driver pulled up at a tea stall and pointed across the road to a little side street. "Chitral, Chitral," the driver exclaimed joyfully and Tim went over to see if he was right. I thought, its most unlikely, in fact I was beginning to wish I'd never heard of Chitral, I slumped down on a convenient bale of hay closed my eyes and pretended it all wasn't happening. But, much to my surprise, Tim returned to inform us it was the right place but the bus wasn't due to leave for another six hours. Quite ironic after the mad rush the day had started with, we now had six hours to kill, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I suspected that wouldn't happen for quite some time.
Next time...The start of an epic bus journey with many twists and turns.
Hi Ros, it was touch and go...I guess I'll continue the story...
The next morning was panic stations. Our early morning call had predictably not arrived but fortunately I had only drifted off for a couple of hours and awoke at 6am and was just about able to waken the other two. Tim was like a madman, screaming, shouting, urging us to move fast, pack all the bags and get downstairs into the hotel lobby. I just assumed it was all too late and our opportunity of avoiding the overland journey to Chitral had gone, Tim however was thinking otherwise. We somehow managed to dive into a taxi with all our luggage by about 6.15, that was after Tim had given the manager of the hotel a slap for not waking us, his response was to repeat how sorry he was. But we made it to the airport and onto the little Fokker47 for the flight through the mountains. Well done Tim I was thinking, we had avoided the nightmare bus journey, wining and dining the pilot the night before had paid off and we were on our way...or so I thought. Unfortunately this is Pakistan and nothing is certain. We had only been flying, or should I say bouncing up and down in our seats as the plane bobbed around for about thirty minutes when I could hear the landing gear coming down. Surely we couldn't be there already I thought and as I looked through the window I could see through the wisps of cloud...Peshawar!!! Yes we had turned round, the pilot had aborted the flight and we were heading back to Peshawar, I was gutted. All we could do now was sit and wait to see if any of the remaining two flights that day would take off. I felt awful, still far from well, but seemingly not as awful as Tim and Dave looked after their excesses the night before. A couple of hours passed and then the inevitable announcement, all flights to Chitral were cancelled for that day and my heart sunk.
bodleing Forum Posts (13,810)
RE: Adventure writing
Sorry about bumping this up again, but this is the first time I've put any of this down since the event. I'm going to copy this when I'm done and use it at a later date."Anyone seen the bus to Chitral?"
So the decision was made, we would travel overland to Chitral rather than waste time waiting for an improvement in the weather so we could fly.
Once more the baggage was collected together and we faced the army of taxi drivers desperate to get our business and find us a bus to Chitral. Tim picked one out who seemed reasonably confident that he could find us our required carriage, and off we went.
This time we were entering the old part of Peshawar, unlike anything I've ever seen before with little sign of Western influence, a crazy cacophony of sound, smells and colour greeted us at every turn.
Quite by chance we then came across two friends, Bart and Renatta who we had previously met at the Shalimar Hotel in Rawalpindi. They were off to join Chris Bonnington and a BBC television crew on an expedition to Nanga Parbat, (I found out later the expedition ran into serious problems.) They were taking time off for sightseeing and after a quick chat we said our farewells and continued our search for the bus to Chitral.
Eventually we turned into a kind of market and were immediately surrounded by quite a large crowd of people, most of whom seem to want to touch us or tug at our clothing, it was a bit unnerving to say the least. Tim and Dave went off with someone who claimed they knew where the bus was, but came back saying it wasn't the right bus and we were in the wrong place.
Off we went again, in search of the elusive bus to Chitral. This time we were traveling through back streets, chaotic jumbles of people, cars, animals and market stalls. I was beginning to wonder if the driver had understood our plight, all he had said was "Chitral, Chitral, yes, yes." But that didn't necessarily mean who knew what he was doing.
After a few more miles of chaotic driving the driver pulled up at a tea stall and pointed across the road to a little side street. "Chitral, Chitral," the driver exclaimed joyfully and Tim went over to see if he was right. I thought, its most unlikely, in fact I was beginning to wish I'd never heard of Chitral, I slumped down on a convenient bale of hay closed my eyes and pretended it all wasn't happening. But, much to my surprise, Tim returned to inform us it was the right place but the bus wasn't due to leave for another six hours. Quite ironic after the mad rush the day had started with, we now had six hours to kill, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I suspected that wouldn't happen for quite some time.
Next time...The start of an epic bus journey with many twists and turns.