The local guide was determined to drag me down this very steep slope to see the glacier. He was making sure of his baksheesh. My son protested that he had been taken an easier way two years ago, but nobody listened. I don't like slippery slopes, but I had never been to a glacier before. The guide grabbed my arm and guided each footstep, telling me to put my foot on a rock each time, rather than the dusty earth. I was frightened not only of falling and injuring myself, but also for my poor daughter who would have to pay 6,000 dollars for a rescue helicopter. When we finally reached the glacier, it was not white and glistening as at the mountain source, here it was a dirty black colour. The local guide grabbed a piece of ice that melted in his hand, just to prove it. Then we had to climb up again, and I insisted on a rest every few yards, for I was getting out of breath. We returned to the cafe and had the usual chicken for lunch on a table outside.
Our final destination was further up the Karimabad valley, way up the mountain to a most wonderful place at 9,000 feet, called The Eagle's Nest. The road became rougher and rockier and it was essential to brace oneself as the jeep lurched up the bends. Here were the potato terraces, carved out like a grid so that each set of potato plants could be irrigated. They tasted delicious, as do all potatoes grown at altitude. The Guest-house at the Eagle's Nest is a famous place from which you can see the sun-rise on five surrounding mountain peaks. Although we woke at four on the first morning it was misty, but on the second day I was able to see the sun gradually turning all the white mountain peaks pink, an unforgettable sight. I decided to have a day's rest and sit out looking at the valley below, with our last hotel over 2,000 feet way down below. A shop-keeper opened up his little shop for us. I saw two lovely head-dresses, one modern Afghan, beaded, the other an older one with little bells on. I decided to buy them both, to the amazement of the shop-man, who told us we were his first customers this year (May). I am sure he was sincere, for he gave us both a gift on departure, mine a pretty necklace. We had one trip up the Karakoram Highway as far as we could go, for the Chinese border was closed because of SAARS. Our journey back to Islamabad took two days. The Karakoram Highway, which is called the eighth wonder of the world, took 12 years to construct through the mountains. Parts were still blocked by landslides, and we waited for over an hour each time while they cleared with bull-dozers. I thought I would be grateful to get down to the plains with dead straight roads, but the dust and heat were unbearable. I missed my lovely mountains. Angela Thompson [EMAIL PROTECTED] To unsubscribe send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] containing the line: unsubscribe lace-chat [EMAIL PROTECTED]
