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September 2022, Taftan Police Station, Pakistani Balochistan
At 8 in the morning it was 26 degrees, at 9 it was 33 degrees and at 9.20 we reached the peak of the day: 43 degrees.
We leave from Taftan preceded by a Hilux with two levies in front and the third sitting behind to observe us with the Kalashnikov resting on his crossed legs.
Surprisingly we travel at an average of 90 km/h, I think it's done, at this rate we will arrive in Quetta in the day!
I never said it, after the first 128 km we stop at the first checkpoint to change stock, "5 minutes" they tell us smiling but I should have understood that the wait would never have been so short when they let us sit in a room lined with carpets, serving ourselves hot tea.
Usual check of documents and compilation of the duty register, we also have time to doze off and here comes the second escort, about an hour later.
We set off again, another 100 km, in the first stretch a very strong side wind blows from the left, the bike sets sail and the braid flies wildly over the right shoulder. I try to keep my balance as we get to the next checkpoint where they change the car without the usual document check.
The road is a long straight stretch, all the better as I have to get used to driving left first time! At times it's so hot that my head spins and my gaze is lost on the horizon where mirages thicken mixed with thoughts in a shapeless desert-colored molasses.
The wind carries large quantities of sand on the road, we cross two gorges where the sand has completely invaded the left lane, at times it scratches our skin and again, as in Tunisia, I find myself chewing the grains for a few hours.
Since I entered Balochistan there is not a single woman around, where are all the women? Apparently the men around here are especially protective.
Everywhere I start to see the classic "Pakistan style" trucks, real works of art on wheels that enchant me. Very colorful, painted and decorated with extraordinary care, after all they are their homes and each of them tells their own personal story.
In the distance on the sides of the road you can see many dromedaries chewing slyly in groups.
At the next checkpoint they tell us that we will have to wait another hour, the escort car has just arrived and the driver needs to rest.
For security reasons, they say, we won't get to Quetta tonight, after all, at this rate we would have arrived well after sunset. We will stop in Dalbanbin where we will sleep in another police station and then leave for Quetta the following day.
We arrive at the police station at half past four after having filled up the bikes, around 18 euros for 24 litres. Ah yes, good times in Iran with benza at 10 cents!
We park inside right next to the prison which is divided into two sections. A large exterior overlooked by the entrances with bars to three other smaller rooms that seem very crowded. We find out later that those are reserved for the most dangerous Taliban. They don't tell you how they look at me when I take off my helmet. At one point a gentleman from the large prison greets us with a "hello friends, welcome", speaking in perfect Italian with a Pakistani accent. But that's another story.
They make us sit in a hot room lined with carpets and with cushions on which we sink while they evade the usual document controls.
Side note for foreign travellers: last night the commander told me "lady, we are no longer in Iran, we are in Pakistan and you can take off your veil!"
What a relief 😌
And would you travel around here? Let me know what you think in the comments!
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00:00:00 Pakistani Balochistan Depart Taftan Police Station
00:06:10 Balochistan, Pakistan, the sand dunes on the asphalt
00:08:36 Pakistani Balochistan, first check point change of armed escort
00:10:45 Pakistani Balochistan, long straight
00:13:50 Pakistani Balochistan, problems with my Ténéré 700
00:15:28 Direction Dalbandin, Pakistan Balochistan
00:19:51 Arrival in Dalbandin, Pakistan Balochistan