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Human’s 30,000 inhabitants have been ruled by the
same family for 1960 years. They long believed themselves the equals of the
great powers, years. Probably because of their impregnability. A legend states
that the Hunzakuts, as the people of Hunza are known, are descended from five
wandering soldiers from Alexander’s army. It is true that some of the people are
fair- haired with blue or green eyes. In central Hunza the people speak
Burushaski, Wakhi and aboriginal language.
Hunza retained its isolated independence until the British
conquered it; on the fruits of caravan raids slave trading and attacking it’s
neighbors. It did not become par of Pakistan until 1974, and even now the Mir of
Hunza retains much of his traditional importance. The society is co-operative
rather than competitive; there is remarkably little difference in the people’s
weather, each family growing enough corn, apricots and walnuts for its own use.
The economy used to be entirely self-sufficient, but this is rapidly changing as
the Karakoram Highway opens up the
valley.
Hunza was the likely model for the Shangri-La of James Hilton’s
novel ‘Lost Horizon’ where he describes it as a country of peace and contentment
where the people do not ago. The myth of the longevity of the Hunzakuts probably
stems from the fact that it was selected by the National Geographic magazine as
the kingdom where people loved longest, free from social stress and succored by
their high intake of apricots and low intake of animal fat. Fruit was, and is,
the staple diet. During the summer the people used to eat nothing else; in order
to conserve fuel and precious cereals cooking in the summer months was
forbidden. In winter the people ate flour made from apricot kernels and drank
brandy distilled from mulberries, and wines from the grapes that used to grow
everywhere, smothering the poplars and roofs.
You see in Hunza a large number of old
people, most of them apparently in good health, but few, if any, live to be 120.
Life is as hard in Hunza as it is elsewhere in the northern areas, particularly
in the early spring when the supplies of stored food are running low.

The Burusho
The Burusho, also known as the Burushas, are known to inhabit
three rugged mountainous areas of northern Pakistan known as the Hunza, the
Nagar, and the Yasin Valleys. However, most of the Burusho live in the Hunza
Valley. No one seems to know the exact origin of the Burusho but according to a
legend, three soldiers from the army of Alexander the Great came and settled in
the Hunza Valley around 300 BC. Another legend that says that the Burusho were
driven from northwestern India into Pakistan by Indo-Aryan invaders. For
hundreds of years the territory of Hunza was ruled by a prince. Then from 1892
until 1949 the British ruled this territory. In 1949, Pakistan gained control of
Hunza when a truce made by the United Nations brought an end to the fighting
between Pakistan and India. The Burusho are a proud people and they are very
warm and friendly. Most of them are farmers but some are involved in tourism and
trade.
Some of the Burushas serve in the military or work for the
government. The family ties of the Burusho are very important. The husband is
always the head of the household. The Burusho usually do not intermarry with
other ethnic groups in the area, not even the Hunza or Nagar Burusho. Their
houses are built of concrete or stone and are not very warm during the winter
months. Kerosene is often used for heating because wood is scarce. The Burusho
eat mainly fruits, grains, and vegetables. Some of their favorites are peaches ,
apricots, and nuts. They raise sheep, cattle, and goats for milk and wool. Their
chief industries are production of woolen cloth and dried apricots.
The spoken language of the Burusho people is “Burushaski”. It is
their primary language but is not yet a written language. Qualified workers are
needed to develop a written language for the Burusho . The Hunza, Nagar, and
Yasin Valleys all have a distinct dialect. Most similarities are found between
the Hunza and Nagar dialects. Urdu is the national language of Pakistan and is
also the secondary language of the Burusho.
Traditionally, the Burusho were animistic, believing that
non-human objects have spirits, but Islam is now their primary religion. The
Burusho differ from valley to valley as to which faction of Islam they follow.
Most are Ismailis, while others may be Shia or Sunni Muslims.
HISTORICAL PLACES OF HUNZA Valley
Bultit Fort Karimabad Hunza
The setting of the Baltit Fort is arguably unrivalled in
Pakistan. It is set at the head of the Hunza Valley in the Northern Areas
amongst some of the highest mountains of the world, overlooking the valley
settlements which it was built to protect. While it has lost its defensive role
in modern times, the Fort remains a symbol of the region's history and culture.
It is a synthesis of the architectural form, domestic lifestyle and belief
systems of the region, providing insight into the values of the Hunza people.
The Fort has expanded with its increasing importance over the centuries and been
adapted to changing needs and functions. Carbon dating tests indicate that some
parts of the structure existed as early as the 13th century, with the last major
modifications made at the beginning of the 20th century before conservation was
undertaken in 1989. It is currently being re-used as an ethnographic museum.
Altit Fort
Hunza
Altit Fort is situated in the village of Altit,
about 3 km from Karimabad. It has been built on a sheer rock-cliff that falls
300 meters (1000 feet) into the Hunza River, and is much older than the Baltit
Fort.
View of Altit fort, with the central town to
the right and below the fort. The extreme gullies, sharp drop-off, and location
high above the river made this settlement highly defensible and an older
settlement than many in the central valley.
Ganesh Valley Hunza
Six
kilometers (4 miles) beyond Aliabad, the KKH makes a sweeping S-bend down past
Ganish village to the bridge across the Hunza River. Ganesh, on fertile flat and
above the river, is guarded by an old watchtower and fort. The old craved mosque
is also worth a visit. In the pool in front of the tower all the local children
learn to swim. Until this century boys had to swim across the Hunza River to
prove that they could escape or attack across the river when necessary. Until
the British came in 1891, the men of Hunza used to keep a sword, gun, shield and
a loaf of bread (which was replaced every eight days) beside their doors; when
the drums beat the alarm from Altit fort, heralding the approach of raiders,
each man would grab these things and run for the fort. (Presumably his family
went too.)
Like Gilgit Hunza
was an important staging post on the Silk Route and was heavily travelled for
thousands of years by traders going back and forth between China, India and the
west over the Kilik, Mintaka, Parpik and Khunjerab passes.
The most convincing proof of this lies in the
inscriptions on the Ganesh rock, a sort of Silk Route guest book. The rocks are
immediately beside the KKH, between the road and the river, a few hundreds
metres past the bridge across the Hunza River.
The inscriptions are in Khraoshthi, Brahmi, Gupta,
Sogdian and Tibetan. Among them is a portrait of the first-century Kushan King
of Gandhara, Gondophares. Another inscription reads ‘Chandra sri Vikramaditya
conquers’; the date of the inscription corresponds to AD 419. Chandra sri
Vikramaditya was Chandra Gupta II, the greatest of the Gupta emperors, who ruled
our most of India in the already fifth century AD.
Most of
the drawings are of hunting scenes with horses and riders shooting at ibex, ibex
surrounded by horsemen, and men dancing around ibex. The ibex was extremely
important to the people of Hunza, Afghanistan, northern Pakistan, and northern
India, as it was believed to be the pet animal of the mountain fairies and
symbolized fertility and prosperity. In the more remote parts of Hunza the
people still perform ritual ibex dances: a holy man dons an ibex headdress and
drinks ibex blood (or nowadays the blood of ordinary goat), then falls into a
trance and proceeds to tell fortunes and answer questions about the future.
Gulmit
Valley Upper Hunza
Gulmit
(2,500 metres or 8,200 feet above the sea level), eight kilometers (five miles)
past the bridge, is a fertile plateau with irrigated fields on either side of
the road. Halfway between Gilgit and the Khunjerab Pass, it is a good place to
spend a night or two.
The small museum belonging to the ex-ruler, Raja
Bhadur Khan, is full of interesting ethnic artefacts--wooden bowls, spoons, and
farm implements, woolen coats and embroidered hats and shawls. The Raja shows
you round with charm and enthusiasm.
There are
many walks along irrigation channels in the area, and the people are very
friendly. One recommended walk in across Ghulkin Glacier to Boreet Lake, then
across Passu Glacier and down to Passu village. For a longer walk continue from
Passu Glacier across the Husseini Ridge to Yunzbin, at the bottom of Batura
Glacier.
Passu Glacier Upper Hunza
Passu, 14
kilometres (nine miles) beyond Gulmit, is a village of farmers and mountains
guides. This is the setting-off point for climbing expeditions up the Shimshal
Valley and Batura Glacier.
For
non-trekkers there are two easy walks from Passu. It takes about 20 minutes to
scramble up through the rocks to the Passu Glacier, or an hour to follow the
irrigation channel up to the Batura Glacier. Or you can wander through the small
village of Passu, watch the villagers at work in the fields, and see yaks and
dzos (yaks-cow hybrids).
Shimshal
Valley Upper Hunza
The road to Shimshal leaves the KKH six kilometres
(four miles) past Passu. Shimshal is an isolated, unspoiled valley, three to
four days’ walk away through a narrow barren gorge. You need a guide to lead you
in; once there you can take several different treks up to the surrounding
glacier. The villagers of Shimshal currently building an access road from KKH.
SOST
Valley Upper Hunza
The KKH passes through four more villages before
reaching the immigration custom post at Sost, 34 kilometres (21miles) from Passu.
Karakoram Highway
The souls that paved the way for the modern tarmac road named
the Karakoram Highway still seem to flicker amongst the sharp moving shadows of
the unstable rocks and the almost countless but crumbly lucent glaciers that
constantly threaten it's existence. There has always been a long pass into, and
out of China over what is sometimes called the 'roof of the world' but in
ancient times it was a very perilous pathway.
Extant writings, etched in a fourth century A.D. Chinese
travelers diary, record ' The trail was very precipitous, and vertigo
accompanied us as we edged along it...' The path was certainly narrow, and often
clung to the sheer faces of the many deep resonant gorges that still confine
their turgid, animated rivers. Even today, one can still see vestiges of an old
crumbling trail high up above the present road. Although it is not the same
trail that this particular merchant scrabbled breathlessly along, if one
scrambles up to it and edges along it for a few meters, one can experience the
same feelings of dizziness and danger that the diarist wrote about.
The new wide metal
led road also winds along high palisade like cliffs in some places, and
sometimes short sections of the tarmac
rumble down into the river below or become buried under tones of rock and mud.
However a modern traveler on this modern road will not experience the same fear
or vertigo as the ancients.
The present highway is also popularly called the 'Silk Route'
by many romantics because it approximates the trail of what was once one of the
many silk, jade and spice carrying caravan trails that congregated somewhere
near Xian, in China, and terminated in the vicinity of modern Syria on the
Mediterranean sea coast. Like long lines of exploring ants, determined traders,
merchants, and adventurers wore a path through narrow gorges, high grass
sheathed valleys, across waterless deserts, around 6,000 meter - and higher
mountains, and over raging rivers in pursuit of barter.
The passage of time hasn't altered any of these geophysical
conditions, nor were the reasons for building this new road (apart from its
obvious military significance) any different from the ancients reasons for
undertaking such a hazardous journey. The new road was built to facilitate trade
between China and Pakistan.
Tourist literature published by the Pakistan Tourist
Authorities states that the road took twenty years to build. The pamphlets also
mention the amount of earth moved, rocks blasted out of the way and more
poignantly, the number of men and women, both Pakistani and Chinese who died in
this great joint engineering feat.
Although the brochures write that it 'took twenty years to
build', the road is in fact never finished! Because of the uniqueness of it's
geophysical surroundings, constant natural activity frequently destroys sections
of the highway. A small army of workers are on hand to reroute the road and join
the new sections to the ends of the undamaged highway. The road in other words,
is constantly being moved!
Put very simply, the road meanders through an area where
highly active tectonic plate pressure is causing mountains to grow faster than
the elements can wear them down! Swift flowing rivers and the measurable
movements of glaciers crush, undercut and wash away the sides of these same
mountains contributing to the constant rock falls and landslides that changes
the face of the land almost daily! This uniquely accelerated geological activity
can be felt, seen, and heard if one sits quietly on any high vantage point for a
few hours. The road is in fact an observable reflection of man's incessant, but
unequal struggle against nature's transcendental power.
Starting near Rawalpindi, the bitumen sealed motorway winds
through gently rolling, sandy foothills for approximately one hundred and twenty
kilometers before intersecting the Indus river. (Called the 'Sind' by the Urdu
language speaking Pakistanis) it then twines along the Indus's arc north
eastward to within forty kilometers of the town of Gilgit.
Between these two points, (about four hundred kilometers) the
road sometimes takes on a 'roller-coaster' aspect as it dips into, and out of
the Indus's wide river bed. The final dip is at this forty kilometers point when
the road joins the Gilgit river and continues to within twelve kilometers of the
town of that name, then swings North, crossing the Gilgit river to join the
Hunza river. The town of Gilgit is twelve kilometers off the actual Karakoram
highway and is reached by a fairly smoothly laid and slightly inclined tarred
road.
Although the Karakoram Highway inclines upwards the whole way
to the pass it's not until you get close to Gilgit that you begin to feel as if
you are in mountains. Even so, the town is only at one thousand, five hundred
meters (approx. five thousand feet) elevation and there is still a feeling of
being in desert. The barren, dust laden and tan colored hills that surround the
area give the impression of being made from sand, however, it only takes a ride
of a couple of kilometers north from Gilgit for one to get the impression of
being in 'real' mountains - very high, and very sheer mountains.
This is not to say that the actual road itself is steep - it's
not, it's just that the demarcation between the almost sand dune like foothills,
and the seemingly abrupt line of six to eight thousand meters high glacier and
snow plaited mountains is almost overpoweringly awesome.
The road then accompanies the Hunza river through these
mountains, climbing gently almost all the way to the 4,700 metre high Khunjerab
Pass. Only during the last twenty-odd kilometers from the top of the pass will
you find short stretches of consistently steep road gradients of six to fourteen
degrees. At the top of the pass, two tall memorial stones show that this is the
convenient dividing line between political Pakistan, and political China. Both
countries respective customs and immigration posts are some kilometers away on
their respective sides of the pass. Sust, the Pakistan customs post is ninety
kilometres before the peak. Tax organ, the Chinese customs post and town of that
name, is one hundred and thirty kilometers from the peak.
The pass also separates two differently named mountain ranges,
the Karakoram range (on the Pakistani side), from the Pamir in China. Within
these two massive ranges, there are other named but smaller clusters of rugged
mountains, and a quick glance at a map can confuse one as there is no
illustrated way that one can separate one range from the next.
On the Chinese side of the pass the road is given a different
name by the Chinese, who call it, loosely translated, 'The Big Pakistan/China
Friendship Road'. This continuation of the Karakoram is also smoothly finished
and well graded. It scrolls up and down through generally wide valleys for
approximately four hundred and fifty kilometers to the camel market town of
Kashgar, which is in the mostly Taklamakan desert filled Chinese province of
Xingjian.
As most travelers consider the Karakoram highway and the Big
Pakistan-China Friendship Road to be one and the same, I have done so in this
guide, with the exception that I refer to the Chinese road's by their route
numbers. All Chinese roads have designated route numbers and periodic
'kilometer' markers tell you what numbered road, or track you are on at any
given time, for example, the Chinese side of the Karakoram road is route number
314, and you can stay on this route half way across China.
The actual
kilometer numbers on the stones don't seem to make any sense, and they certainly
did not usually reflect accuracy as compared to both of our cyclometers, which
always came out to within a hundred or so meters of each another at the end of
every day. The numbers on the stones often showed a ten or fifteen kilometer
difference to our daily total.
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