BEAUTY OF NEELUM VALLEY

Arriving Islamabad was a pleasant surprise. Fluttering flags, twinkling lights, blooming flowers and colourful banners gave the city a festive look. My visit had coincided with the visit of Chinese President, Xi-Jinping.

After spending a night in my son’s spacious apartment, I took his car & driver and moved on. The car gained speed as it hit the Murree Expressway. Labelled N-75, it has four lanes flanked by green-hills on the one side and massive real-estate development on the other.  The road would lead me to Muzaffarabad via Murree, Bhurban, and Kohala.

The route was scenic.  The driver used to stop the car every now and then and asked for camera

clicks near waterfalls, dense jungle and budding flowers.  The experience has taught me not to mess with a borrowed driver and I yielded to his demands.

Camera Friendly Driver of the Car

I reached Muzaffarabad at about 4 pm after covering a distance of 138 km.  A guestroom had been booked for me in an Army Mess and I straightened my back for about two hours. I planned to stay here for 3 days for acclimatization. To while away time, I went to Pearl Continental in the evening. It is located on the top of a hill and offers a magnificent view of the valley. Room Rent is about Rs.16,600 and occupancy is reasonable.

Next day, I went 9,800 ft. up to Pir Chinasi, famed for shrine of Saint Shah Hussain Bukhari. It has lush green plateaus and fantastic views of neighbouring snow-clad peaks. It is a lovely spot for trekking, camping, and paragliding. Also, I visited Chakothi, a border-crossing point for Indian-held-Kashmir, about 56 km away.

 The highlight of my tour was still away.  On 25-Apr-2015, I rode a double cabin four-wheeler. With me was a retired Pak Army Colonel (or maybe I was with him).  He had a deep knowledge of the area and briefed me as we proceeded. The drive was a pleasure.  Rains from the previous night had washed the roads clear and greenery was almost dazzling.

With Col. Mazhar

Our first stop was Patika, hardly 19 km away.  It is a gateway to Neelum Valley. A mini zoo and a fish hatchery have turned the place into a tourist attraction. The Tourism Department has constructed a resort which includes a rest house. This is very popular and remains occupied even in winter when mercury drops considerably.  The driver brought hot Kashmiri Kahwah: a green tea made with saffron, species and walnuts.

Pitaka Town

Neelum Valley is about 145 km long and bow-shaped. It is dotted with majestic fir, deodar, and pine trees. River Neelum runs in the mid with its indigo blue water.  It eventually merges with River Jhelum at Domail. Staring from barely 2,000 ft. from Muzaffarabad, the valley gains height to 8,000. There is abundance of springs, waterfalls flowering trees and plants. Adding to their fragrance is the sweet smell of menthol plants along the banks of the River.

River making Line of Control with India

The Colonel became very excited while we were passing Titwal village, some 60 odd km from Muzaffarabad. Here. River Neelum  acts as a line of control between Pakistan and India.  People living on both sides are all relatives.  Some years back, arrangements were made for the Kashmiris of both sides see their loved ones. It was really sad to see people just waving hands and throwing letters to their relatives on the other side. Nowadays, there is a proper border crossing via a wooden bridge.  We stopped for a while to see the spot called Nauseri-Titwal point.  The Colonel narrated horrible stories of bygone days when Neelum Valley Road was considered a death trap for vehicles as they frequently came under fire of the enemy.

At about 11:30 we reached Kundal Shahi, 74 km away from Muzaffarabad. It is another important village. Here Neelum River appears like a stream.  It has crystal clear water abound with trout fish. The area is more fertile, forest becomes thick and road journey seems going through a tunnel of trees. It has an elevation of 1,350 m and is known for logging and saw mills.

From Kundal Shahi, we took a side road which was a little rough. It followed Jagran Nallah (stream) and climbed to Jagran Resort, Kutton. Our vehicle ran into the resort compound. I asked the Colonel to leave me here since he had some assignment to do a few miles ahead.  But no way.  Two-hours of travelling together had turned us as friends. So he said he would not leave until I was well settled. Perhaps, he knew about the communication-gaps. We went to the office and were surprised that there was no reservation in my name.  We were told that all rooms were fully booked and there is hardly a chance for an additional intake. We contacted the base and were informed that adjacent to Kutton Resort, there were rooms which were closed for the time being.  One room was hurriedly opened and cleaned. Makeshift arrangements were made for a temporary electrical connection. A bucket full of hot water was placed in the washroom.  Water tap and its flow were checked and found satisfactory. For tea and meals, some private arrangements were made and the place became functional. I thanked the colonel for his help and bade him goodbye. I retired to my room and slept like a log.

Sunday, the 26^th April, 2015

 In the morning, I sat outside my hut directly looking at Jagran Nullah . It was a bit cold for me though place was hardly 1,530 m above sea level. Anyhow, it was very pleasant to sit in the sun.  There were heavy rain last night. Jargan Nallah was filled up with gushing water which was giving off a noise. The water was rushing downwards all along the tall grooves of trees. I could see some guesthouses at a distance plus some activity perhaps fishing. As far as I could see, there were lush green hills, panoramic views, enchanting stream and attractive surroundings.

Kutton village

Except for the noise creating by vibrant water of Nallah, there was hardly any sound.  Perhaps it was suppressed by the roaring water.  Nonetheless, sometime a bird or two would land at the nearby plant and sooth my ears with their chirping. I think those were Kashmiri Flycatchers. At about the same time, Gul Waheed brought a second cup of hot tea. When I asked him why there were no birds, he laughed aloud and said this was neither the time nor the place.  He disclosed a number of varieties of birds like pheasants, woodpeckers, warblers, redstarts, snowcocks and finches.

Jagran Hydro-electric Resort, Kutton

At about 11 am I went around the place known as Jagran Hydroelectric Resort. Originally, it was constructed as a housing colony for the foreign engineers who looked after the installation of a 30 MW Power Plant located further uphill. After completion in about two years, the colony was handed over to the Govt. - lock, stock and barrel. Later, it was converted into a tourist resort. It is the most sought after place due to its upkeep, aesthetic design and relaxed ambience amid an area known as “Heaven on Earth.”  It has 12 single rooms, called Swiss Cottages and 6 Family Suites with room rent per night of Rs.2,500 and Rs.4,500 respectively. There are gyms, playgrounds, TV longue, and neatly maintained gardens. It is ideal location for families with small children.

At night I had an easy stroll in the resort. It was hemming with activities. Resort guests had returned back from their daylong trips. A number of Land-Rover, Land-Cruiser, Prado and other SUVs were parked in the compound.  Kids were shrieking and screeching. Parents were busy in counting them and persuading them to go to their beds.

I remained there till late at night. The moon was peeking in, its silver blaze reflecting onto the gleaming water as the voice of the stream echoed through the deafening silence. I was mesmerized by the aura of the moonlit valley.

Monday, the 27^th April, 2015

Next day. I got down from the resort and approached nearby shops. I faced a road-side tourist complex like Tourist Tuck Shop, Tourist Café and even Tourist Poultry. It was early in the morning and there were hardly any business. I went inside a deserted café and ordered a cup of tea.  It was fine but when I reached my vault to pay off, the owner said, “Sirji, this is from me.”  I looked at his face: middle aged, rough-off colour with slightly grown beard. “Thanks,” said I and encouraged him to talk.  As if it was God-sent, he rumbled a long narrative how he went to Dubai, returned after 14 years, married and settled in Kutton.  

“What is Gushtaba”, I asked casually.

“Oh Sirji. It is best dish. Meat is smashed with a wooden hammer to turn it soft which later is shaped into balls. These are put into a handi (kettle) over layers of kneaded flour and shalgam (turnips) along with yoghurt and species. Covered and sealed, the handi goes through slow cooking process for about three hours.  It is eaten with rice or roti (wheat bread).”

“It seems like kofta,” I commented but he disagreed and whispered something like ‘the proof of the pudding is in the eating’. 

I ordered for a dish at lunch time.  When I re-entered his café I could smell fragrance of spicy cooking. Gushtaba was indeed delicious.  I expected to pay Rs.500 but only Rs.300 were demanded thus bringing me a consumer surplus of Rs.200/-

A plate of Gushtaba

Besides this, the traditional cuisines of Azad Kashmir are Kashmiri Raan (Fried leg of lamb), Rogan Josh, Balti Gosht, Dal Chawal (A mixture of split peas, red lentils, and boiled rice), and Dam Aloo (Fried Potatoes in Kashmiri style). Kashmiri dishes are devoid of deserts, except for Kheer. To go with the food, Kashmri Kawhwa is a must.

Tuesday, the 28^th April, 2015

Another pleasant morning.  Not a trace of cloud, sun shining at its best. I went to other side of resort towards a small market and a bridge. I observed a way of life we could never have seen at home. Huts and houses were scattered all over the mountain, up to the top,  some clustered and some solitary. Fresh air, spring water and naturally grown crops were in abundance . Add to it challenges in life like going up and downhill, extreme cold and other natural hazards.  This would give a fair idea of lifestyle in those area. Also, I observed uniformed boys and girls wearing badges of up-scale schools.  They were frank and friendly, first to shake hands and ask questions like “where from.” 

The area was quite affluent and people had a good quality of life supported by income from tourism and home remittances from their near and dear working abroad.

A general view of Kutton with water fall

Wednesday, the 29^th April, 2015

On my last day at Kutton, I waited for a vehicle to come from Maffarabad.  However, there had been torrential rains at night and traffic was closed due to mud-slides and falling stones.  Frustrated with the daylong wait, I walked towards my room when someone interrupted me and told me that it was time to go back. I hurriedly went back, hugged Waheed Gul and Misaqun-Nabi (who had served me during my stay), picked up my gear and sat on the front seat with a thud.

It was a night ride.  There was enough traffic as the road was cleared after a ‘stuck-up' of six hours.  At one point, a bus provoked my driver to blast his horn for a way on a narrow winding road.  While I held my breath, the bus lurched to the hillside allowing us to overtake. We passed so close that I could admire an arm in the bus glistening with golden bangles. Focusing on jewellery kept me from worrying whether my 4WD Toyota Hilux still had all four tires on a road.

Beyond the patched up section at midway, the road was rather empty affording me an opportunity to open the side window to feel the swift air blow across my face. This reminded me of Jackson Browne Lyrics “Running on Empty”

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels.

I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels

An endnote:

My walks remained restricted in the resort or its vicinity. I have a health problem where fatigue is easily induced.  At home, I can go 63 stairs up to the top of my apartment without huffing and puffing. But in cold weather of Kutton coupled with height (howsoever modest), I experienced bouts of cough and asthma. God be Great, I was feeling perfectly normal when I landed Karachi in its sweltering heat and smog.