The last day in Iran starts with a huge setback. When I walk to the guarded parking garage of the hotel, I can already see from a distance that someone has touched my things.
On both sides of the bike I have small tool pouches that are permanently attached. One contains my rain suit, the other contains a bottle of brake fluid, an oil filter and a tire repair kit. And that last one has disappeared and the zipper of that bag is broken and is open. It's all worth little, but that set is my help when I have a broken tire.
When I call the guard over, of course he doesn't know anything, luckily he can repair the zipper. At the reception I ask if they have camera surveillance, but unfortunately. It must have been someone from the staff because the garage gate is always closed and guarded. Of course a thousand apologies follow, but that is of no use to me and I leave the hotel disappointed.
An hour later I am at the Taftan border crossing. I have all the papers at hand and I am sent from cubicle to cubicle. Strange actually that a border crossing always has to be such a maze, but an hour later I arrive at the Pakistani side. There Hamid, King of The Taftanborder, is already waving. Hamid is an employee at the border post and is a legend among Silk Road travelers and helps everyone with all the formalities to get into his country.
I follow him past officials who, without a computer, sometimes write everything in a very large book and sometimes on a loose piece of paper. After all the stamps and notes I arrive at the large iron gate, where at least 50 people are waiting in the scorching heat. It almost feels embarrassing to go there with my motorcycle and drive into Pakistan.
Behind the gate is a Levie, that is a policeman who is responsible for securing travelers. He gestures for me to come along and I follow his motorcycle to end up at the police station 2 minutes later. That is no more than a few simple spaces with a courtyard and a high wall around it. Inside I find a Belgian couple with a VW camper and a Russian with a motorcycle. De Levie shows me a room with a carpet, that is where I will sleep tonight, he says. Today 4 more travelers will be added and tomorrow we will ride with an eight of us under the escort of Levies.
Indeed, that afternoon a German couple on their motorcycle and 2 Italians on their Vespa scooter arrive. When the evening has already fallen, all 8 of us are taken to the border office where our Carnets (the import and export papers of the motorcycle) are noted and stamped.
Moments later we are all in the office of the big chief of the border office and we are given coffee and cookies and he asks each of us about our country of origin.
We are back at the police station around 7 pm and we are lucky that the wife of the German couple was born in India and can speak Pakistani. The Levies do speak a bit of English, but the fact that she speaks the language creates a kind of bond. For example, the Levies want to get us some food and we all add 300 Rupees (€1.50) for rice and chicken.
Not long after, however, he returns without food because he doesn't get permission from the Big Chief. But the Big Chief invites us to watch a cricket match and then eat with him! A few hundred meters from the police station is a kind of compound with all kinds of buildings where all employees of the border office reside. The (large) border office is very remote in the desert and the employees also sleep there. Between the buildings, about 20 people are playing cricket and chairs and tables are being dragged for us. Beautiful to see and the balls are flying around us. Around 21.00 we are allowed to sit at the table and we are spoiled with a table full of food and as an encore we also get all fruit, water and cola. It shouldn't get any crazier.
We're back at the police station around 10:30 PM and we're all done. The Russian tells me just before going to sleep that he just saw a mouse walk past my air mattress. And thanks! I don't sleep a wink half the night, not because of the mouse but because of another day with a lot of impressions.
Is it illegal to travel through Pakistan on your own? What a great trip by the way!
Hi Rick, that is indeed forbidden for the south of Pakistan also known as Balochistan. This province is considered dangerous because of attacks and kidnapping of tourists 15 years ago. Now it is safe but the government then decided to always protect tourists and they still do that. North of the capital Islamabad you can travel freely again (that's where I am now).