Written by: Mahnoor Fatima
Posted on: July 25, 2019 | 
| 中文
Route to Boibar Meadows
Boibar Meadows has been one of the lesser ventured treks of the Northern Areas, due to its remoteness and obscure route. This summer, a group of friends and I decided to trek there, and uncover the place for ourselves. Our journey was to span three days from Jamalabad to Boibar Meadows, onwards to Maidun Pass and back. At about 7164 meters, this trek was neither too high nor too challenging, but there were a lot of steep cliffs and close calls. One slip would have been enough for someone to tumble down and seriously injure themselves.
The group spent the first night outside a hotel in Jamalabad, a small village which is about 2 and a half hours away from Karimabad. From the reception of the hotel, one could see the mountains and the Karakoram Highway. At night, the stars shone the brightest I had ever seen, helped by the fact that there was no artificial lighting in the area. One could almost make out the constellations with the naked eye.
We traveled to a smaller village the next day, from where we would trek to our camp by foot. On one side, there was lush greenery and vegetation, and on the other, rugged terrain. However, the higher we got, the more rugged the landscape became, till we were completely surrounded by rubble and rocks. This was because we had come in the early season, when the plants had not fully grown. Our porters also told us that the track used to be accessible by jeep, but the 2010 floods had destroyed the path.
Perhaps, the hardest day was the initial climb. Though the flat areas were easily manageable, the steep inclines would come suddenly. They were especially challenging for a first timer such as myself, and I was not entirely sure if I would get to the campsite. Had it not been for the porters (who asked us to refer to them as ‘Supporters’), I would not have gotten through it. They not only kept me company, but also distracted and motivated me, when I needed it the most.
Halfway through the trek, we reached a small village named Avgarch, which seemed as though it was located at a very important epicenter between the mountains. Historically, this area is home to the Wakhi people who trace their lineages to what is now Central Asia and Afghanistan. The people in the area have used the fertile terrain of Avgarch to farm and tend to their animals, but have houses at lower altitudes.
We stopped at Bobo’s Sufi House, a 900-year-old tea shack run by generations of the same family. As we snacked on salty tea and homemade bread (delicacies of the area), the shop owners explained the history of the house, showing all the markings their ancestors had made, and the weapons they used to defend themselves.
The river Hunza was never far from us, and the glacier was our main source for water. Coming from Lahore, the crisp air was also welcome retreat from the dust and noise of city life. At one point, I found myself alone amidst the mountains and the sound of gushing water. The experience felt almost meditative: all I had was my determination and perseverance to reach my goal as best as I could.
We reached our campsite, an elevated area of land near a fast-paced stream, a few hours before the evening. It had begun to rain as night fell, but we thought nothing of it. To our surprise, the whole scenery had changed overnight. By the time we woke up, the camp was completely blanketed in snow, and it was the middle of May!
As wonderful as the site was, our unexpected surprise seriously hampered our plans to continue forward. The snow only allowed us to reach a certain point near Maidun, after which many of the trekkers decided to turn back. But my fondest memory was sitting with the group and the Supporters in Maidun, having a genuine and open conversation with people I had struck up friendship within a short span of time, and developed a bonding. We spoke about the importance of persevering local cultures, but also giving local people more opportunities in the North, through small-scale businesses and universities.
This area was also Markhor territory, but unfortunately, we could not spot any nearby. Perhaps our colorful windbreakers scared off animals who believed us to be threats. However, a few friendly goats would often visit the campsite in search of food, and would eventually settle on chewing the plastic of our laces and camping bags.
By the time we had to get back to Jamalabad, the snow and wind had shifted the path, creating new obstacles for us to cross. During the last phase, when everyone was most exhausted, we heard distant rumbling sound coming from above. Strong winds blew large rocks off nearby mountains, and almost knocked a few trekkers off their path, and into a ditch. Thankfully, we quickly passed, and made it back to our hotel unharmed.
This experience taught me so much about patience and commitment. The views were spectacular: rocks would give way to plants, and plants would hold onto rocks in the strangest and most resilient patterns that I had never seen. However, there was another, if not equally important thing that I learnt. The people, whether they are locals or your ‘supporters’, are just as integral to the beauty and fascination of this area. One must respect their cultural individuality, and be receptive to what they have to say if one wishes to cultivate friendships, and have a truly meaningful trip to the mountains.
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