Gallery - This Big Road Trip

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thisbigroadtrip

Nov 30

Killer sunsets. The shark fin rock structure. Inseparable models that crowd my iPhone photo library, all failing to capture that magical feeling of wandering along the shore between Playa Maderas and Playa Majagual as the sun bows out.

thisbigroadtrip

Nov 28

Our version of whatever your version is of an online vegetable delivery service. They drop by every three days; letting us know by WhatsApp message when they are 20 minutes away. We head out on the moto, wait at the corner and then choose form whatever fruit and veg they have with them that day. Lychees are a current favourite and the pineapples are amazing.

thisbigroadtrip

Nov 12

Instagram post 18189140671233523

thisbigroadtrip

Sep 5

Somewhere new! As much as we love New Denver, it's somewhere we've been before. Hence the relative lack of posts over the last few months. But, we're back on the road and into uncharted territory; hunkered down in Ford's Cove on #hornbyisland in the Pacific Ocean off British Columbia, Canada. The epically located little building above is Ford's Cove Fish and Chips, which gets the British Fish & Chips Seal of Approval from us.

thisbigroadtrip

Jun 10

A husky-fest at Arctic Chalet! Having managed to suffer a flat tire within 2km of heading up the highway, we decided to head back and see the huskies we had bumped into earlier in the week. Around 20+ white huskies with 4 or 5 pups. Amazing animals.

thisbigroadtrip

Jun 7

We were running along the Dempster Highway the other day and met these stunning white huskies. Our gratefulness over a lack of snow likely not reciprocated on their end. The are sled dogs from the nearby Arctic Chalet who provide accommodation and arctic adventures to travellers. The dogs are now 'summer' training by pulling quads.

I have always had a thing for huskies since I was around 5 years old. Presumably from watching a documentary at school. Maybe not the ideal house dog but they are stunningly beautiful. There is rumour of puppies. Watch this space.

thisbigroadtrip

Jun 6

Weve been racking up some miles on the Dempster Highway. Not in the way most people would. No car, camper or bike here. Just a pair of run shoes and a chilly face. From this point, we were around 140km fro the Arctic Ocean.

thisbigroadtrip

May 26

The membership at this Dawson City gym is free, but the machines will make you feel a little inadequate.

It might be historical one day, but I am starting to think it's cheaper to put a fence around these things, and call it a site of historical interest, than send it to the scrap metal yard. It's something to do with pulling gold out of the ground.

A better backstory might be obtained from someone who know's what they're talking about, but that's what you get for breaking into tourist attractions when they're closed. Anyway .... we're heading even further north next; off to Inuvik

thisbigroadtrip

May 24

The snow thaws. The sun shines. Temperatures gauges drag brittle needles to above 15ºC and the Youngs head to one of the top attractions in Dawson City.

It was closed. But we went in anyway. To be fair, it would probably have been more interesting if it was actually open and someone was there to tell us what all the old stuff was but it was a reasonable mooch amongst the tin building and rusty machinery.

Here we see something old, yet still colourful, whose bodywork has seen better days. And two cars.

thisbigroadtrip

May 20

Another permafrost victim; adding a while new meaning to the term 'listed building'.

The buildings are now built on raised platforms to stop the building heating the ground and causing permafrost damage. The highway that runs through Dawson is also a light colour, to avoid radiation from the sun doing the same.

The little building on the left is Bonton & Company. One of the best restaurants we've been to. Anywhere. Dawson is known for its gold but we think this gem of an eatery is the highlight.

thisbigroadtrip

May 18

We're back in Canada. A brief stop at our alleged home town (I am no longer sure we have a home town) before we took a flight north to The Yukon, a territory above British Colombia not famous for its high population density. About 1,000 residents and the nearest town, Whitehorse, is 6 hours drive away.
Dawson City, is however, mildly famous for its Klondike gold rush.
In the middle of nowheresville, the town is built on permafrost. A perpetually frozen layerground underground that, when a bit happens to thaw, causes the buildings to sink. St. Andrew's Church (in picture) being a good example. More wobbly building photos to follow, in part because there is not much else to photograph.
There was a Farmers Market on Sunday. It consisted of one stall selling cheese, whilst freezing rain hammered down. Roll up, roll up.

thisbigroadtrip

May 16

Another 'publishable' from Claire; a knife shop in Lahore. Some of the knives on chains to the right of the picture are made for self flagellation (called tatbir) during the Shia Ashura celebration (the day Moses parted the Red Sea). A small number of Shia Muslims will swing the knives on chains around their bare backs, resulting in a bloody mess. Some cut their heads with knives or sword, whilst others might line up for a more clinical small cut with a surgical knife as a token blood let.
I'll let you Google Shia Ashura, but the more squeamish may simply want to take my word for it.
For those who like a bit of gore, also Google the Vegetarian festival in Thailand, which we saw first-hand when we were there about 30 years ago.

thisbigroadtrip

May 9

Concrete. Rubble. Wiring. Regardless of how much we love Pakistan there is absolutely no doubt that 'beauty' is hard to find in the architecture and infrastructure. Buildings often look half built, half demolished. Generally, one is indistinguishable from the other and may actually be neither. Or both. The chaos of Lahore is not limited to the people and traffic, but the architecture as well. All encompassing.
Claire took this picture. She's good at capturing things that I take for granted and miss. The differences between our world and this blend quickly for me. Becoming normality. I love being amongst their daily lives. The formalities and routine of their religion curdling with the ignore-the-rules bedlam of their surroundings. It was wonderful. Organised insanity. I fit right in.  Claire loved Pakistan too, but was less adaptable to the differences. Always ‘fresh’ to the changes being thrust upon her. Claire is always taking photos that I don't particularly understand when we’re within a country, but gain clarity when we leave. I take photos for how they look to me when I am there. Claire takes photos because of how they will look to other people who are not there, and how they will rekindle feelings when we are no longer there. Gaining value and becoming brighter as memories fade.
She calls them her ‘publishables’. Photos that she feels I might like enough to edit and post somewhere. She excitedly grabs her phone and pecks at her screen, opening up the photos app and swiping through. She always tell me why the photo was taken, often starting her explanations with “I just wanted to show …”.
In this instance she points out the massive electrical transformers with writhing coils of hissing, venomous wiring that have bitten and killed many a brave Pakastani electrician. Made from wooden beams and collapsed metal trusses. One transformer skirting a professional fix by simply being raised at one end by a house brick or two.  Flick a switch. The lights come on. Job done. Safety and aesthetics be damned. It works, inshallah! (God willing)

thisbigroadtrip

May 6

I'm a sucker for the 'pop-up' business. Preferably one that has embedded itself into the detritus of a city corner or alleyway. The backdrop an unwitting canvas for the sanguine business owner.

A cheeky start. A mirror. A chair. A defensive glance at passing police truck as the scissors and blades are lined up; hoping for a lack of interest or, at least, leniency from the authorities. A first client. Then another. The handsome beards of Lahore coaxed into place by a nameless barber shop.

Decades later the location is temporarily permanent; filled with regulars. A continual thread in the city tapestry.

thisbigroadtrip

May 5

Hanging out with the Sufis at their holiest shrine.

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 26

A hiker starting from the stone streets in Karimabad. Boots, rope, jacket and a stick. Old skool.

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 17

Faisal Mosque, Islamabad. One of my favourite places in the world. The clean architecture forming a crisp modern backdrop to the gentle softness of the people wandering calmly around its plaza. Both utterly serene, there for ancient rituals.

The sun dips behind a solid gold crescent moon; a gift from Saudi Arabia that sits guarded by four, tall, white corner pillars. Monkey silhouettes move athletically along the ridges of a roof shaped to resemble a bedouin tent. Their ears prick. Salmon pink faces turn and glare at a sudden hum of loudspeaker static.

The Maghrib call to prayer washes over the marble of the mosque plaza and seeps into the deep green Margala hills that surround this north edge of the city. My eyes water. Although in no way religious the haunting call and its universal affect on the Muslims present is beautiful; tear invoking.

A stream of flowing robes ebbs barefoot towards the mosque doors. We can only stand and watch. My heart sinks. I have never felt such an urge to be part of something. Committed to the sidelines by my atheism. Temporary purgatory. A joyful jealousy though; happy for all those with spiritual membership. All who believe.

Trying not to sound choked up I turn to Claire. “Everyone needs to come here. Everyone needs to come here at least once and see this. Islamaphobia would just disappear. These people are extraordinary.”

Simply put, we are in a devoutly Muslim country. Two lone westerners wandering oround in, arguably, Pakistan’s major place of worship. And it is categorically not possible to be made to feel more welcome.

People come up to us and say hello. They shake hands. They invite us to ceremonially break their Ramadan fast with them. After prayer they invite us to their picnic rugs to enjoy dried fruit, curry, naan and drinks with a few generations of their family; to talk about Manchester, tea and James Bond. They invite us to be shown around their city. They invite us to stay with them at their homes. “You leave tomorrow? Come tonight then, don’t stay in a hotel!”

They invite us into the beating heart of Pakistan. To experience true Islam. To bathe in human kindness.

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 13

The guide weaves through a thin lane bordered by market stalls. The journey has been daunting. An Uber breakdown in the middle of a busy Lahore highway; Lahore’s infamous streets at rush hour and then a chaotic argument with the ‘cash only’ Uber driver who has already been paid through the app.

It’s night. Crazy loves night. And the market place leading to the Sufi shrine has ramped up the usual Pakistani chaos to sensory destroying levels. Sights, smells, sounds all dialled up eleven. I consider a new marketing slogan for Pakistan “The Spinal Tap of Asia”

The lane is narrow and busy. The guide, keen to make up for lost time from the Uber and traffic issues, ploughs forward. We bob and weave like prizefighters. Slipping between women in various states of head covering and men almost uniformly wearing the baggy pyjama style Shalwar Kameez. We dodge motos, pedestrians, kids and chickens and the additional bits of markets stalls that don’t fit in the actual market stalls. A few hundred metres, all led with either one hip or the other. Space at a premium.

Outside the shrine are two Sufi drummers. We sit and watch. The steady beat and chanting giving way to a hypnotic head shaking as the tempo increases. The younger of the two wheeling around, a centrifugal force dragging his drum outward as he spins, towards the increasingly worried faces of those watching. A rain of 10 rupee notes scattered by our guide, showering the drummers and rapidly collected by their friend. The drummers calm back down to a steady beat.

I notice a guy rolling a joint, the younger drummer notices me noticing and beckons me to share one with him. The thought of making this night any more chaotic fills me with fear and I meekly shake my head. Mildly aware of the ever increasing years between these days and ‘those days are over’. He grins. A small sideways head movement agreeing that it probably for the best. We briefly hug and I say thank you. Genuinely pleased for the opportunity to see a bit more Pakistan crazy before we head back for an Uber. The return journey no less of an overload.

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 12

Selfies are a seemingly constant request. Whether in a mosque or market, or simply buying a charging cable from a roadside store. Usually individual, sometimes a group, sometimes a group that keeps getting one person larger the longer we stand there.

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 10

thisbigroadtrip

Apr 9

The Eagle’s Nest Hotel stands guard at the cliff edge, one of Pakistan’s less awful structures, marginally better made than most with at least some semblance of a straight edge and a marginally coherent design.

We park the bike and head up a yellow dirt trail. It’s hot and dry. A fact lost on the 12 year old kid standing next to a large rock, absently mindedly pecking at his phone. He looks up and greets us with reasonable English. Substituting a simple ‘yes’ in place of any answer he doesn’t know to the questions he doesn’t understand.

We ask him the way and he tags along. Chipping away at unfamiliarity with his questions about age, occupation and where we’re from. He guesses at me being fifty. I consider nudging him over the cliff edge but the truth in his statement wins him a brief reprieve.

We head back and I slide 100 rupees from my wallet. A tip for the guide. He palms it temporarily into his pocket and heads straight to the candy store.

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