Pakistan, GILGIT PROVINCE, Part 1: Rawalpindi, Murree, Gilgit, From the Memoir of Carolyn T. Arnold

View from the Cockpit, Flight over the Himalayas to Chitral

My husband’s Aunt Carolyn traveled to Pakistan in the 1970's. The following are excerpts from her memoir of her travels.

We departed from the Chitral airport over those same mountains back to Peshawar before departure the next morning for Rawalpindi. This city, a little more than one hundred miles east of Peshawar, has developed considerably since Independence Day in 1947. After partition from India, the people chose a new capital, Islamabad, a planned city twelve miles from Rawalpindi. It is the administrative capital of Pakistan. There are wide boulevards, white modern buildings, and diplomatic headquarters. Many buildings are still unfinished and there were few people about. Rawalpindi is much more lively with the old way of life and its historic monuments. Our girl guide was pleasant and on the way back to Rawalpindi took us to a bazaar for Edna to find some fabric and a tailor to make some Pakistani pants.

Rawalpindi was the starting point for Gilgit, another village over the main range of the Himalayas. The flight is always based on weather conditions. We were optimistic and arrived at the airport in brilliant sunshine at 6:30 am. The waiting room was hot and crowded, largely with Gilgit people returning home. By 7:00 am we were told that the flight was cancelled.

Murree Village

Instead of flying to Gilgit, my friends suggested a trip to Murree, a hill station where they had acquaintances at a mission station. A car and driver were obtained and we set off. We climbed higher and higher on good roads through the trees on large estates, for this was a popular summer colony of British officialdom in the old days. We finally found the home of their friends, the Reeds where we were given a warm welcome and invited to lunch.

Gilgit Valley

Early the next morning, we were back at the airport. This time we were lucky and boarded the Friendship Fokker 27 for the flight to Gilgit. The approach by air is hair raising. First, we flew up the Kaghan Valley and over the Babusar Pass. The pilot invited us into the cockpit when he saw we were trying to take pictures out the side windows. As we drew near Nanga Parbat, the fifth highest peak in the Himalayas, we passed below its crest of twenty-six thousand feet in brilliant sunshine. The pilot said, “I have a wonderful view of the peak. Let me take your camera for a good shot.” At times, we feared we would scrape the snow from the peaks around us. We seemed so close, but the angels were with us, and we passed safely. No less awe-inspiring were the surrounding ranges of the Karakorams, and to the left, the Hindu Kush, the point where the borders of Pakistan, China, and Russia meet. The Indus River below was a mere stream. Then, we dropped into the Gilgit Valley. The brakes were applied sharply, and there, at last, I was in the world of which I had so long dreamed.

Gilgit Village is mainly one long street, bending at the far end toward the river. The hotel, the Vershi Ghoom, was a quadrangle of one story rooms with an interior courtyard. We had anticipated an excursion that day, but since we were a day late, it was cancelled. After lunch, there was not much to do except to sit on the veranda and watch the children of the family play in the courtyard with the chickens.The family tried to please us, but the food was not good. They asked us if we liked chicken and rice. That sounded familiar, so I replied, “Yes, that will be great.” Thereafter, we had chicken and rice and some kind of vegetable at every meal. I wished I had not been so enthusiastic about it. (Part 2, next week.)

Perhaps the original intrepid tourist was Carolyn T. Arnold, my husband’s aunt.  A single school teacher in Des Moines, Iowa, she began traveling abroad when she was in her forties, beginning with a bicycling trip through Ireland in 1950.  She went on from there to spend a year as a Fulbright Exchange Teacher in Wales, to more trips to Europe and beyond, and eventually became a tour leader, taking all her nieces and nephews (including my husband Art) on her travels.  When she retired from teaching, she wrote of her experiences in a memoir called Up and Down and Around the World with Carrie.  Today, as I read of her travels, I marvel at her spirit of adventure at a time when women did not have the independence they do today.  You can read of some of her other adventures in these posts on this blog:  October 21, 2013; October 7, 2013; July 29, 2013.March 10, 2014, February 9 and 16, 2015.