The Silk Road - Red Desolation

The return journey to Kashgar seemed daunting. Wondering how we were to travel that distance through unforgiving terrain, with minimal daylight supporting us, caused me a certain uneasiness. As did the hazardous road conditions awaiting us. Abdullah recognised my concerns and explained that each journey made along that highway was carefully monitored by the authorities. For personal safety reasons, amongst others … 

As the highway was a single track at times, only allowing vehicles to drive in one direction, time limits were placed on the drivers. This proved to be hugely challenging and nerve-wracking for them. In that area, the roads were not only perilous due to landslides as a result of the heavy rains, at times there were huge gaping chunks of road actually missing. This news filtered through my brain in slow motion. Down in the valleys or on the plains, this would have been acceptable. However, ahead of us lay deep ravines and monstrous mountains to negotiate.

Our allocation of time in which to complete the eighty-one kilometre journey was exactly three hours. Sounded fair. Little did we know just how slow we would need to travel in order to place safety first. Such challenging terrain. For the first twenty minutes, I kept my eyes on the driver. I guess my way of giving him the only form of support I could. Back to those powers in control I went. We had our silent chat. Promises were made. Of course they were. Opening my eyes, I noted the man behind the wheel was certainly not in need of my concern or support. He chatted away to Abdullah in Uyghur. Chuckling. Puffing on his cigarette. For our skilled driver, it was simply another outing. Another day at the office. I decided to absorb the mind-blowing scenery instead. 

In 1979, after twenty years of dangerous blasting and excavating in one of the world’s most seismically active regions, the 1300 kilometres of Karakoram Highway, between China and Pakistan, was completed. It is often referred to as the eighth Wonder of the World. Fully deserving of this title in my opinion. The high elevation and horrendous conditions under which it was constructed, resulted in more than 1,000 deaths. 

For what seemed like forever, there was no sign of human existence, other than the tracks on which we travelled. Then it appeared. A single red building. Standing silently in sharp contrast to the greyness of the dry riverbed. What legends did those four walls hold? What had those bars across the windows witnessed? Had the inhabitants ever felt the isolation and the harshness surrounding their shelter, I wondered. The red shelter, a symbol of Man’s presence, stood so small amidst the magnitude of the mountains. However, it had a purpose. A reminder that everything and everyone has a purpose and a place on earth. No matter how small.

The late afternoon sun supported Mother Nature as she displayed an array  of spectacular colours, which she had so cleverly entangled between the sheer rock faces of each mountain. The powerful colour red unveiled in a patchwork of shades. The various colours proudly surfacing in a bid to share their wealth hidden deep within. Evolving as a result of the various minerals and riches, from whence they originated. My thoughts raced to Tarryn, my niece, with her PhD in Geosciences. She would be in Heaven in this geological utopia. What an incredible textbook the earth presents. One on which each page unfolds the mysteries of our planet. 

  

  

We travelled through the lower regions at this stage. Snaking our way slowly along the narrow dirt tracks of the Gez River region. The eroded, barren landscape, a palette of colour and brilliance in itself. The rock formations breathtaking. Each one holding their own individual stance. 

I was wrapped in a shawl of serenity and quiet bewilderment. Why had we, as students at school, never heard of the red mountains in Xinjiang? Why had we never heard of Xinjiang? Why had we never studied the fascinating Silk Road? After all, the Karakoram Highway passes through the highest concentration of mountain peaks and raging rivers in the world. How did it come to pass that I was witnessing this majestic greatness through my own eyes now? The true value of travel came to the fore. This is my reason for looking further beyond. For exploring more of our world and its people.

The red mountains with their changing vibrant colours and jagged sharp pinnacles created an abundance of stark beauty. Their boldness having stood the test of time. Of centuries past. Their energy dominating life below and around. Streams from the Father of Glaciers, Mutzagh Ata, meandered through the desolate terrain. He seemed to accompany us on the journey home. His spirit everywhere. Appearing in different places in a medley of forms. Ripples on the icy waters. In the absolute stillness of the heavy dry air. In the rocks that had found themselves displaced along the way. 

The drive down to the checkpoint in the valley took us just over two hours and twenty minutes. In other words, our driver had gone too fast in terms of the time limit given us. For fear of being fined a large sum of money, he parked the bus near the river and we waited. Apparently, if one is late, taking longer than the three-hour time slot, one is given a fine.  And, a search and rescue operation is put into action. No chances are taken on the Karakoram Highway. Increasing my deep respect for all drivers who undertake journeys along said highway.

The time we had to spare was valued whilst walking beside the river. Collecting pebbles. Capturing the soft colours of dusk through the lens. And not only reminiscing about what had been a phenomenal journey, through what is considered to be amongst the most spectacular areas on our planet, but truly gaining a deeper insight into the riches Life has to offer. 

                                     You have travelled the road to your own Mecca

                                                                                                                -Abdullah