Passer – the untold story

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25th to the 27th July 2013

Sometimes I leave the best story for last. Perhaps the reason for this is that I was a little shamed by my mistake and possibly my stubbornness. But this is too good a story to assign to the dustbin and therefore lets start.


Last year in the middle of July I returned to the Marwar Valley and my favourite village Yordu. It was nice to see old friends and to be welcomed so graciously even though I gave them no warning as to when I would arrive. No internet, no mobiles but an amazing grapevine. It wasn’t long after my arrival that Bilal knew that I had arrived and came home to welcome me once again.

I have discussed in another article my attempt to cross the mountain range via the small villages of Anyar and Metwan and over Chilang La into Laddakh. It was more or less a spontaneous decision to see more of this wonderful world. Unfortunately that trip was never allowed to be finished as the Army received instructions to come an get me and to take me back to Yordu ostensibly as a guest of the Indian army.  I was certainly upset that my life was not going as planned but the Army were quite kind and as my feelings subsided I realised that this was just another adventure and I should treat it as such and take the necessary steps to enjoy it.

When I got back to Yordu my hosts the Malik family helped me get the matter settled with the army and I got to see my hosts in a more familiar light. It was nice to wander around Yordu. The next day it was time to leave and head back to Inshan and over the pass to the more settled areas of Kashmir.

I left reasonably early and was fortunate enough to engage a guy to carry my rucksack. We headed back and within 2 hours had crossed the footbridge linking the present end of the road to the footpath to Yordu.

the Bridge to Yordu. After crossing its all foot or horse to Yordu

the Bridge to Yordu. After crossing its all foot or horse to Yordu

A nice break at the Pony camp and then off I went hoping to get a lift to Inshan. But that was not to be and soon I came to another bridge on my left and in the distance I could see a small village nestled in the hills. This country is just so beautiful. In summer the weather is just so benign and you seem to be as close to heaven as one can get whilst on earth. My feelings wavered should I try my luck and go to Margan Pass this way. (assuming such a path existed). I have a map of sorts which through the travels we have shared has become quite tattered. Often it is wrong but it is a sort of prized possession as it does provide me with some possibilities on possible routes.

My stay in Kashmir was coming to an end for another year. I still felt the need for an adventure. The previous attempt was thwarted for one reason or another and therefore I felt justified in trying to do this.

Passer - just up the hill

Passer – just up the hill

Passer is a very small village with a small schoolhouse, a mosque and a few cedar houses clustered along the footpath. The village is perched on the side of a valley with little springs  on either side of the village and paddocks around the village and above where less steeply slopes exist.

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