Today we were making our way to the Upper Hunza region, of course we hitched a ride there and this time it was with a really nice couple of lads from Islamabad and Karachi. When we asked them where they were heading they said “we’re just driving, we’re on a roadtrip!” Our hostel was right by the main road so we were able to get delivered directly to our door. We were welcome by an old chap at a family run hostel who told us all about his days in the army where he was shot in the leg and put in an Indian prison for 2 years. He said 1200 men were in one room and they shared two toilets. The guards fed them paint and crushed glass and their clothing was covered in bugs. It sounded bloody awful.

We arrived fairly early in the day so we decided to head out and do some sightseeing. Our first stop was the popular Husseini Suspension bridge and we planned to walk across the bridge, 5km over the hills via a village and come back across the river on the Passu suspension bridge. It was funny because everyone needed to wear life jackets to cross but because we were only going one way they said we didn’t need it, turns out the inconvenience of having to get the life jackets back across outweighed our safety. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel on the bridge but I absolutely fucking hated it. The brown glacial fed river was gushing below me and I had no choice but to look down to check my footing.

There were two metal ropes to hold onto, a thicker one higher up and a much more flimsy and wobbly one lower down. I opted for the higher, stronger one which was fine until the bridge started raising as we reached the other side. The wire began rising too and suddenly my arms couldn’t stretch up anymore. I was starting to get very uncomfortable and reluctantly moved my hands to the wobbly side where I didn’t feel in control at all. We were told Passu bridge was even scarier, apparently this one was safety checked in spring but Passu hadn’t been maintained in about 5-10 years. We decided it was too risky doing the walk because if I struggled to get over Passu we’d have to return the same way, walking 10km. So, back we went over the terrifying Husseini bridge.

Once we were back at the main road we wanted to reach the Passu Cones viewpoint which is a fabulous area of spikey mountains. A van full of young men stopped to give us a ride and it was very much the party bus. They kindly shuffled around to put me in the front seat and then they blasted the music with everyone dancing in their seats, mostly doing the ‘screwing the lightbulb’ moves.

We took some photos of the impressive cones and then hitched another ride down to see the Passu suspension bridge, even if I wasn’t comfortable walking it I wanted to see it. We ended up taking a couple of wrong routes which was very frustrating so we scrambled up the rock-side and arrived on a proper dirt road which we were supposed to be on all along. The bridge was definitely more rustic and the wooden planks weren’t flat, they were all bent and alternated, so one was bent up and the next down. I managed a very short walk along the bridge and that was enough for me. It was time to head back and just in time as a dust storm was brewing. A car pulled over to take us back and the two men worked in a hotel nearby. We were chatting away when they giggled and the driver said “it’s actually my first time driving a car!” Oh my goodness! And suddenly it made sense as I thought it was strange that the passenger moved the gear stick into drive mode. To be fair he was driving very well but geeeeeez! The driver studied English literature and when he got extra interested in our conversation he’d turn to look at us and the passenger had to keep shouting “watch the road!!”

The following day we planned to visit Passu Glacier which we were told we could walk on. We asked our host if we needed a guide and he said “no, it’s a waste of money – I will show you the way”. So we paid him to drive us there and then we followed the trail to the glacier. It was strange because at one point he said “we can either go up this hill for a view of the whole glacier or we can go down and touch the glacier” but the hill was literally 1 minute walk away and luckily Craig asked “can we do both?” to which he agreed. But instead of taking us down to the glacier and showing us the safe route to walk along he just said “follow this black pipe onto the glacier” and then he lit a cigarette and sat down while we went down on our own.

I don’t quite understand why he didn’t come with us, he knew we wanted to walk on it and it’s a glacier so there’s going to be crevasse’s and dangerous sections that we don’t know about. It meant when we finally reached the glistening ice we didn’t want to venture too far just incase. To be fair any section that didn’t have gravel on it was way too slippery to step on. It was still fun though, we climbed up a bit and passed some trickling pools. Craig even made it up to the next level where the glacier was all white.

The host also said to us “tonight you come to our homestay for dinner” it wasn’t a choice so we just went along with it. The homestay was in the small village of Ghulkin so we decided to head to the neighbouring village of Gulmit first, have a few hours rest and then go to the homestay later on. Gulmit was cute but there wasn’t much going on in the village. We visited a ladies weaving business and also the oldest house in the village which were both interesting to see but didn’t take much time.

In the late afternoon we left our hostel for Ghulkin and as we did our host said we could hitch a ride part of the way with his friend…in a tractor!! There were two seat behind the main driving seat where we squeezed in and giggled the entire way as we felt like we were living some sort of childhood dream. From the junction we got a ride in a normal car and then we strolled around Ghulkin which was much more lively than Gulmit, maybe it was just the time of day though. Kids had separate sections of the gravel road where they played different sports, some getting ready for cricket matches while others were playing volleyball and football. There were a lot more cute naturally built houses too and in every garden were an abundance of fruit trees. It seems to be apple and apricot season now and every house had trays outside filled with apricots to dry them. The people that didn’t own trays or have space for them used rocks so on hikes up the mountains there were often big rocks covered in apricots.

At around 5pm we arrived at the homestay for our dinner, we were told to turn up whenever and our hosts daughter greeted us and made tea. Once we finished the tea however she came to tell us that her mum wasn’t home yet so we should go for a walk around the village. Hmm, that didn’t sound good as we turned up hungry and ready for dinner. There wasn’t much we could do though so we headed out and walked up the hill behind the house where we got a view of the Passu Cones. We figured we may as well stay out and watch the sunset as it was unlikely dinner would be ready. At around 7pm we arrived back at the house where there was a guide in the lounge who was taking an Italian tourist on a tour. By 8pm my stomach was rumbling too much so I asked him what time they normally serve food. He said “maybe 8:30pm or later as there are many people tonight”. Then one of the other guests came through after chatting with the hosts in the kitchen and she declared “oh it’s not even close to being ready!”. We were pretty annoyed by this point as we were forced into coming here and there was a perfectly good eatery right below our hostel that we could’ve got dinner at. The guide took pity on us and went to see if there was anything ready for us, and low and behold there was rice and a potato curry ready to go, it was all the meat that was taking ages to cook and they knew we were vegetarians. Anyway, the meal was very basic and definitely not worth a 3 hour wait but they did have a traditional Hunza dish that a neighbour brought around with a sort of sour homemade cheesey yogurt mixed with crushed chapatis. It was much nicer with sugar sprinkled over it though. We didn’t get back to our guesthouse until after 10, delivering the leftovers to the sweet grandad.