Departing Astore Valley, we continued south on the Karakoram Highway towards Islamabad. However, we still had a two-day journey ahead of us to reach the capital of Pakistan. As we approached the city of Chilas for lunch, views of Nanga Parbat, the ninth-highest mountain in the world (26,660 ft) came into sight. Chilas is the entry point into Fairy Meadows National Park, a serene grassland near one of the basecamp sites of Nanga Parbat and a dreamland for trekkers. Chilas is also home to thousands of ancient Buddhist petroglyphs. Sadly, many have been vandalized over the years. Even though we had seen many Buddhist inscriptions up until this point, the significance of Buddhism in the region was still utterly fascinating to us all.
After lunch, we said heartfelt farewells to the drivers who had skillfully maneuvered the ruthless roads all the way from China, keeping us safe and in complete awe. We transferred from our six 4×4 jeep caravan into two large shuttle buses, as the roads onward would be much more maintained and steady. Carrying on, we started a gradual incline towards Babusar Pass, said to be one of the most dangerous routes in Gilgit-Baltistan. The amount of traffic steadily increased as we slowly inched around literal glaciers blocking the road. The sight of high glacier walls next to tall buses was daunting and surreal. Even more surreal were the food vendors stationed in between and at the base of the glacier walls, selling soft drinks and dried fruits while the melting snow pooled at their feet.
Taken by Bill Jones 
Taken by Bill Jones
As we approached the top of the pass at 13,691 feet, traffic was almost at a standstill due to the sea of vendors greeting passing vehicles and tourists snapping pictures of the endless views. We were able to pull over among the pile of cars to mingle with the hordes of spectators and take in our surroundings. The views were incredible, but having just come from the dramatic scenery of Hunza Valley, the more looming emotion was acknowledgement that modern civilization was waiting for us on the other side of the pass.
Making our way down the pass, we ended up in halted traffic, because the road had washed out by the rapidly melting glacier. It was the month of June, and the summer sun was taking hold. We eventually made our way to the town of Naran, a popular summer getaway spot for city dwellers from Islamabad and Lahore. We checked into the PTDC (Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation) Naran Motel, which felt like summer camp from childhood. We all had our own tiny cabin for the night, reached by dirt trails and surrounded by tall trees and the smell of campfire. It was rustic but nostalgically charming. Dinner was in what felt reminiscent of a summer camp cafeteria, not only because of the hunting décor, but also thanks to the number of families and screaming children running around. The odd green Jell-O dish for dessert may have also inspired childhood flashbacks.
The next day would be the last long haul until Islamabad. We all tried to savor our natural setting as much as possible, no matter how many tourists were doing the same all around us. The environment and tempo of our Pakistan experience was swiftly changing. It felt as if reality was about to set in.
Wandering Ways 