When paddlers hear the word ‘Pakistan,’ thoughts immediately rush to the big water monstrosity that is the Rhondu Gorge of the Indus. With well over one-hundred Class V or V+ rapids scattered along its nearly hundred-mile course, the Rhondu Gorge has earned a reputation as being the ultimate big water test piece. Given the recent inundation of media from perhaps the Rhondu Gorge’s busiest season ever, it seems more and more that paddling in Pakistan has become synonymous with the Rhondu Gorge – a place reserved only for elite paddlers.

The Rhondu Gorge had intrigued me ever since Darin McQuoid’s trip report in 2008. The whitewater was captivating, but I was equally drawn to Pakistan’s scenery, people and culture and, to be honest, its Level 4 “Do Not Travel” advisory. (How bad could it be?). I never thought I’d be good enough to go and run the Indus. If I were to go, I simply imagined scouting massive rapids at an unimaginable scale from the road, taking a few pictures, tucking my tail between my legs, and flying back home without really paddling. It didn’t seem worth it.

I don’t recall exactly when the thought occurred, but clearly Pakistan had other rivers and whitewater. What if I planned a trip to explore some of these lesser-known rivers, and that trip just happened to end at the Indus? We could always scout from the road, chicken out and fly back home, but at least we would have gotten the chance to paddle and explore the country first.

Armed with a few blogs and an obsession/addiction of using satellite imagery to “space scout” rivers, a plan slowly developed. My younger brother, Sam, our good friend, Rahul and I would fly into Islamabad, but rather than heading northwest to Gilgit, then the Hunza, and then to Skardu to stage for the Indus, we would travel northwest through the Khyber Pahktunkhwa Province (KPK). We identified rivers that we knew other paddlers had explored or that looked promising from our space scouting that would lead us on a clockwise journey to the Rhondu Gorge.

Still groggy from our international flight that landed in the pre-dawn hours at Islamabad, we loaded boats onto a van amidst the Muslim call to prayer and began the full-day’s drive to Chitral. The locals were both warm and welcoming. At the numerous police and military check posts we were often treated like celebrities, our interactions humorous and engaging. Handshakes through open windows and requests for pictures and selfies invariably ended with us being escorted to the front of the line.

While many of the main tourist areas in Gilgit-Baltistan Province carry a Level 3 “Reconsider Travel” advisory, KPK carries Level 4 “Do Not Travel” advisory due to active terrorist groups routinely attacking civilians and NGOs. This reality sunk in as we neared the Swat Valley and were assigned a military escort.

Despite the jet lag, the three of us were suddenly much more alert. A pickup truck with four armed men seated in the bed, accompanied our every move, racing through narrow streets and swerving to avoid the local Pakistani traffic: potholes, oncoming traffic, overloaded scooters, and the ever-present threat of a stray goat. As our driver narrowly avoided head-on collision after head-on collision, jet lag slowly won out over adrenaline. We’d succumb momentarily, only to wake up at the next check post or when pulling over to wait on the next district’s escort. As we exited the six and half-mile-long Lowari Tunnel, we left our escort behind, relieved to be closer to dinner and a full night’s sleep.

The next morning we woke up to incredible views of Tirich Mir, the highest peak in the Hindu Kush range at over 7,000 meters, towering over our hotel’s rooftop. After a typical Pakistani breakfast of greasy fried eggs, naan, and chai we headed up to explore the Luthko River.

Like most rivers in Pakistan, the road hugged relatively close to the river for much of the drive to the put-in and we were able to scout the biggest rapids from the road. We chose a put-in that gave us an adequate chance to dust off the jet lag, loosen our muscles and soak in the scenery.

All too soon, we got to the crux of the run. We aggressively boat scouted what we could and scouted from shore a handful of times. After all having clean lines through the massive boulder garden, we lamented that there just wasn’t anything like this back in Colorado.

Not long after, Rahul dropped into a hole, earning the dubious distinction of our first swim after a minute-long beatdown. We quickly put the pieces back together, finished the run, met our drive, had another round of chai, and headed back to the hotel. That night, and in the nights to follow, my mind invariably drifted to thoughts of the Indus.

The following days and rivers all seem to blur together now. Greasy eggs, naan, chai. Long drives on bumpy dirt roads. Yellow leaves, blue water, towering white mountains and huge cliff faces. Insert more superlatives here that will fail to convey the beauty, sense, or hospitality of the place. Curious locals, ubiquitous military check posts, meticulously crafted stone walls for beautifully placed pear, apple, and pomegranate orchards. Handshakes and more handshakes, smiles from little kids, and shouts of “kyshti” from their older siblings as their eyes glued onto the colorful kayaks on our roof.

Sometimes we drove hours up river valleys to find them too low, too flat, or just too far away. Our average speed didn’t go much above 10 – 15 mph most days, so to get to whitewater sections more than 60 miles up a valley seemed too time-intensive with such little daylight. Other times, the military turned us around because our objectives were too close to the border.

In the moment, this was incredibly frustrating as it often required lengthy waits in the local District Commissioner’s office to either receive a flat-out no or for permission to travel only a certain number of kilometers up the valley. Once, we waited over an hour to receive permission to go exactly two kilometers past the check point.

The other rivers we did manage to paddle ranged from big water missions to smaller, more technical creeks and all had outstanding features. For the Luthko, this meant the big rapid immediately below the bridge and for the upper Rich Gol it was the incredible fall colors and the turquoise blue water. The Tirich Gol’s “Dead Goat” must-run box canyon kept us on our toes; we got some more big water experience on the “Booni Gorge” just outside of Booni; and the Laspur’s alpine style and big boofs kept us smiling. I tried to rate them on a scale of 1-10 in my journal but soon gave up after realizing I had rated most as eight or nine out of ten.

After the military denied us access to a region close to Afghanistan, we were forced to leave KPK behind and head to Gilgit Baltistan. Comparatively, KPK seemed more rustic, more religious or conservative, and in certain ways more charming than Gilgit-Baltistan.

After a quick joy lap on the Gilgit, we headed north to explore the Hunza River and its tributaries: the Chapurson, Killik, and Shimshal. The Hunza provided world-class whitewater in a jaw dropping setting, the Chapurson offered more relaxation and scenic views (with the bonus of one incredibly narrow slot canyon) and the Shimshal offered a white-knuckled drive to some amazingly deep canyons and even a glacier.

All too soon we were driving along the Rhondu Gorge. I can’t say anything that hasn’t been said about the Rhondu Gorge other than to repeat that it’s truly impossible to grasp the scale of the whitewater without being there. We delayed the inevitable by trying to push close to the Chinese border and getting denied access yet again, before turning our sights to the turquoise blue waters of the Upper Indus and grey, glacial silt of the Shyok River.

With time running low, we had to decide whether to head towards K-2 and the Braldu River or give the Rhondu Gorge our best shot.

We unanimously settled on the Rhondu, but halfway through the first day, our team of three dropped down to just two. Without the comfort and safety of our third and already pushing our limits and suffering some lingering effects of a food poisoning incident in Karimabad, we selectively chose the “easier sections” of the Rhondu Gorge before heading to Islamabad and flying home.

Having tasted a tiny bit of the Indus, I know I’ll be back to try to finish – which is an ambitious goal for me. Armed with more time, patience, persistence and a lot more luck, I’d like to get permission from the military to explore several drainages near the Afghan, Indian, and Chinese borders. Combining these exploratory trips with the more established classics, I might just feel up to the Rhondu Gorge’s final sections at the end of a trip.

After all, the worst that could happen is that we scout the Indus from the road, tuck our tails between our legs, chicken out and fly back home from one of world’s most beautiful and hospitable countries.

 

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When not busy as a CPA preparing taxes, Guest Contributor Ben Orkin spends his time searching for off-the-beaten-track adventures and exploring remote rivers with family and friends. He’s led whitewater expeditions across the globe and his bucket list continuously grows longer. For more Orkin Family adventures, follow them on Instagram, @orkinexploring. 

Photos courtsey of Ben Orkin, Sam Orkin and Rahul Subramanian.