The snow leopard, a famed but endangered animal, was not the sole reason for extending our summer expedition; the world’s highest international border crossing, which is also known as the Khunjerab Pass, compelled my two friends and me to prolong our trip.

All three of us began our journey from Lahore and reached Pindi via train. We hoped that PIA would take us to Gilgit in just 45 minutes (our overconfidence was based on our very early booking), but to our utter disappointment, the backlog of passengers from previously cancelled flights were given priority. We never even made it on board and were left with the only option: a 22-hour, bone-rattling bus ride on the Karakoram Highway.

The ride was pretty bumpy but we safely reached Gilgit after travelling in a bus for a day. After another few hours on the road, we reached Karimabad where we stayed for a night in the PTDC motel to finalise our trekking arrangement for Rakaposhi Basecamp.

The Khunjerab Pass, the highest international border crossing, and the Khunjerab National Park, home of the snow leopard, are two sites that are worth the long trip down the Karakoram Highway

The next day, after having breakfast at Osho Maraka in Hunza Serena, we did some light hiking while exploring Baltit Fort and the streets of Karimabad for the purpose of acclimatisation. The same day we reached Sust area after crossing Attabad Lake on boat and undertook a jeep safari in the picturesque Passu Cones.

We spent the night at Sust and the next day we headed for Khunjerab National Park (KNP). In the Wakhi language, however, it is known as Khunzerav: ‘khun’ means blood and ‘zerav’ means stream, but the place and for that matter, the pass, has come to be more commonly known by its incorrectly pronounced name — Khunjerab.

KNP is the brainchild of American biologist Dr George Beals Schaller and is Pakistan’s third largest national park. The well-known conservationist mapped the boundaries of the park following a short field survey in 1974; the park was formally established by the then prime minister, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, in 1979. The average altitude of the park is 4,000 metres above sea level and the total area of the park is 560,714 acres.

The primary objective of establishing KNP was to protect the Marco Polo sheep, snow leopards and the Himalayan blue sheep (which are called bharral in the local language). The Marco Polo sheep, in particular, are in danger as their spiral-shaped horns, which can measure up to an impressive six feet, are prized as trophies by international hunters.

In 2007, Dr Schaller proposed that Pakistan, Afghanistan, China and Tajikistan create a new ‘Peace Park’ to protect the Marco Polo sheep that live along the borders of all four countries.

The world’s unluckiest snow leopard

During our trip, I learnt that an annual festival, the Khunjerab-Pamir Cultural Festival, takes place in the month of August. The first day of the two-day event takes place at KNP and the second day at Gojal area (Upper Hunza). This year’s festival was special because a yak was gifted to the Chinese president from the representatives of Khunjerab Villagers Organisation (KVO).

On the way to KNP, at a wildlife checkpoint, we witnessed the lone snow leopard under the care of the KVO. The KVO’s wildlife department and personnel collectively rescued the leopard when it was just a six-month-old cub. A poster on the premises stated that the caged snow leopard currently eats 2kg of meat daily but over time its consumption of meat is rising, hence it is proving difficult for the wildlife department to afford the leopard’s meals. It was sad to see the caretakers’ request for donations to ensure the survival of one of the world’s most endangered, rare, and beautiful animals.

En route to the Khunjerab Pass, we also witnessed golden marmots in the nearby hills. Perhaps they came out of their dens just to see who broke the deafening silence and disturbed them in the brutally cold weather?

A walk in the clouds

After some time, we reached the highest point of the Karakoram highway: the Khunjerab Pass. The Pak-China friendship monument looked like the entrance of a fort, and the weather was quite foggy and windy. The world’s highest border crossing is 4,963m, and one of the few where the driving side changes from left (Pakistan) to right (China) when one enters Chinese territory.

On the Chinese side, the famous city of Kashgar is 418km away from the border, while one can reach Tashkurgan after crossing 130km on the China National Highway 314.

Weather is very unpredictable around the pass. Even in the summer, snowfall can cover the surrounding peaks in a matter of minutes. When we started our journey from Sust in the morning it was sunny, but when we reached the Khunjerab Pass we were welcomed by snowfall.

Before jumping out of the land cruiser, I put on my jacket. The first step at that high altitude gave us a strange feeling: we all felt the sudden jump in altitude in the form of light headaches. Our experienced driver gave us dried apricots to mitigate the altitude sickness we were all suffering from.

A few Chinese visitors joined us and gladly took group photos with us. After that I started to roam around. A herdsman of yaks came up to me and started to chit chat. When I told him that I am from Lahore, he gladly embraced me and told me that his son works in Lahore at a hotel in Fortress Stadium. I took a few photos of the yaks and walked around to explore more.

101 RCB: The engineers of a miracle

We reached the pass in four hours, but in the old times it was not that easy. In ancient times, the Mintaka and Kilik Passes were two access points to the Upper Hunza valley from the Chinese side. After the Karakoram Highway was built, it was possible to surpass both these mountain passes.

Work was started on the Khunjerab pass — the highest point on the Karakoram Highway — on July 8, 1966, by Captain Javed Nasir of the 101 Road Construction Battalion (RCB) comprising 1,500 men. The entire unit was air lifted to Hetian town in the Xinjiang region.

Upon arrival, Chinese uniforms and equipment were issued to them. This was the first time in the history of the Pakistan army that an entire unit donned the Chinese uniform. From the Khunjerab Top, the Chinese started to work towards Xinjiang while the Pakistani unit built in the direction of the Khunjerab River.

The men faced the vagaries of weather with stoic determination and it wasn’t easy: the thin air and blood-curdling winds made even the smallest exertion a fatiguing experience, and the sudden drop in temperatures tested the mettle of the men and the endurance of the machines; even in June or July, temperatures plummeted to -30oC during night time.

It is said that the Pakistani men of the 101 battalion worked like Spartans. In competition with the Chinese, and hoping to get a lead, the entire unit decided to work without ranks so that everyone worked equally. Working under extreme conditions, without any postal or telegraphic link, they suffered the same pain and shared the same food. When winter was around the corner the Chinese planned to close camp, but not their Pakistani counterparts.

Incidentally, the commander-in-chief of the PAF Air Marshal, Nur Khan, arrived at the Khunjerab Top while conducting a test flight of a new helicopter. He was awed at the astonishing work of the 101 RCB and when he returned to Islamabad, he conveyed his sentiments to then president Ayub Khan. Thus, the achievements of this forgotten force were recognised and the decision was made to close the Pakistan camp during winter. Men were ordered to march towards Passu on foot and then to resume work in the summer of 1967.

While gazing at the tall monument of friendship at the Khunjerab Top in the snow storm, I imagined the hardships of the unsung heroes of 101 RCB. Over the years, the weather has taken its toll on the monument; missing tiles and the receding plaster spoke volumes about the brutality of the weather, and reminded me that only the brave and courageous can survive here.

Decreasing visibility due to snowfall broke my imagination; the harsh weather along with time limits compelled us to start the journey back to Sust. On our return journey, as we witnessed a sprinkle of snowfall, I thought of the feat of engineering that even made this trip possible.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, June 5th, 2016