Hindu Kush Heights lived up to its reputation and we had an excellent breakfast of real toast, real coffee, and local butter and plum jam.

 

Our original itinerary had us staying for a night at Gharam Chashma, but discussion with Ehsan elicited that it was an easy day trip from Chitral, and as we had really liked the sound of HKH, we wanted two nights there. As it turned out when we saw it, the hotel at Gharam Chashma really didn’t look much cop, making our decision seem even wiser.

 

 

You basically go up the side valley to Gharam Chashma to swim in the swimming pool that is fed by hot water springs. However, the drive up the valley itself is largely on a metalled road and is very pleasant, though the entrance to the valley is along a narrow gorge. Agriculture is varied with rice, wheat and potatoes being the principal crops. The road through the village itself was not metalled but there was a gang of workmen there surfacing it. Once again, this process is essentially small scale and done by hand. First a base of reasonably equally sized rocks is made which is then covered by the asphalt layer which itself is heated (or melted or whatever) in a wood-fired brazier by the side of the road. It’s all very manually done, except that there was a proper power driven roller to flatten it all down.

 

As noted earlier, the reason you go to Gharam Chashma is the natural hot water swimming pool – and although it is in the grounds of the hotel, it didn’t seem to matter too much that we were not going to stay the night there. I had to have a go so in I plunged, keeping my shalwar kamise bottom on. The water really was pretty warm – think bath temperature rather than swimming pool temperature. Drying the bottoms off was not a problem as, ‘push comes to shove’ you simply sit around in your shalwar kamise top for a couple of hours whilst the bottom dries in the sun/breeze.

 

Arriving back in Chitral we had a two hour mooch around the bazaar (high street). As per normal, there were only men out and about and the colourful shops sold or repaired or cooked just about everything imaginable. Everyone was really friendly and keen to have their photo taken; Northern Pakistani faces are so incredibly photogenic – it’s the moustaches, the beards, the eyes, the wrinkles, the headgear – fascinating. The clock on the jeep was 20 minutes slow, so we were well into debating how to hire a taxi when Eidjan arrived to collect us. He was most apologetic (nor really his fault) and from then on, we ensured that all timepieces were synchronised!