Before leaving Gilgit we visited the British Cemetery. This is a small, walled, tree shaded plot on the outskirts of town. It is looked after, on what seems to be an entirely unpaid family tradition basis by a local Chitrali who, not unreasonably received a donation from us and our support for some kind of recognition (ie. a small stipend) from the UK. The graves mostly date from the 19th century British rule period, but the most recent was of a climber who had died in 1998. The most famous grave is that of George Hayward who, on the basis of a commission from the RGS, surveyed much of Northern Pakistan in the 1860’s, and who was foully murdered in 1870 at Darcot, which is at the head of the Yasin valley (where we are going tomorrow!). One of the interesting features you see all over Northern Pakistan are the messages laid out on white painted stones on hillsides. Mostly they are welcoming messages to some Imam or another, but also just welcome visitors or pay homage to a road construction team.

 

Just out of Gilgit is a carved ‘statue’ of Buddha. Actually it is carved in sort-of bas-relief and is a decent way up a cliff which is probably why it has not been vandalised.

 

Leaving Chitral we drove along the Gilgit river or it may be called the Ghizar river either here of further upstream – it’s another one of those that seems to change its name!. The river flows in a broad valley and essentially marks the boundary between the Hindu Kush to the north and the Karakorams to the South, though by the time you get to Gupis the mountains are entirely the Hindu Kush – all the way on into Afghanistan. This is a pleasant valley with lots of maize and fruit (especially apples) growing, although , as in the rest of Northern Pakistan, agriculture is only made possible by irrigation, and as there are fewer side streams here than in the Hunza, there are longer non-farmed areas. We even say some wild camels in the river.

  

Our hotel in Gupis (the local PTDC) is actually built on a glacial moraine ridge outside the village of Gupis, though as with many villages in Northern Pakistan, you can never be quite sure where the village starts and ends! The hotel is on a magnificent site overlooking the river valley to the East and the Gupis lake (which the locals insist is called Kalti lake) to the West. The Gupis lake was formed “in living memory” when a glacial lake high in the mountains burst as the glacier retreated; the flood water brought down masses of material which dammed the river and formed the Gupis lake. The river has cut itself a channel through the moraine and is gradually deepening it and will eventually drain the lake. The villagers of Kalti were, not unreasonably, miffed when the lake formed and flooded many of their productive fields. We normally think of things like lakes being formed eons ago, in geological time, and it is interesting to see a fairly major feature formed in our lifetime; it also supports my theory of ‘cataclysmic events’ rather than ‘gradualism’.

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Just downstream is a small suspension bridge leading to a small hamlet. There had been a wedding party in the hamlet and the guests were coming back over the bridge. I even got Margaret to walk onto the bridge.

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When it had cooled down a bit we went with Eidjan to visit some relatives of his that lived in the village of Kalti, an the shores of the lake. There is the ubiquitous small planked suspension bridge over the river which leads to an incredibly rocky track up through the village. The village has a small school which is supported by the Aga Khan Foundation and the EU. Eidjan’s relatives invited us into their house, a two roomed, incredibly bare affair. They offered us tea which we declined – I suspect we should have accepted in order to be polite, but you feel embarrassed at accepting things from people who are clearly pretty poor.

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On the 40 minute walk back to the hotel, we shared much of the journey with a herdsman and his small herd of cows (and bulls!).