Rakaposhi Base Camp
One of the things I was really keen to do when researching Pakistan was the Rakaposhi Base Camp hike. Rakaposhi, in the mighty Karakoram range, is the 27th highest mountain in the world at 7,788 metres, and reaching the base camp from where climbers make their bid for the summit is considered to be one of Pakistan’s ‘easier’ multi-day hikes (it’s not like the punishing 12-day Everest base camp walk by any means). It seemed doable even for the likes of me, with knackered knees. Normally it only becomes accessible once the snows have retreated, generally in mid to late May, but our asking around in Hunza indicated it was likley to be reachable now, though no one was totally sure.
Taking a chance, we hitched to Aliabad, then back on the mini-vans for Minapin, the start point for the hike, arriving in a horrendous dust storm. Locals confirmed it was possible to reach the base camp, but we could only actually camp at the 2/3rds point, at a place called Hapakun.
We were more than happy with that, so set out for dinner at a nearby yurt camp (of course), where to prepare for our exertions we had the richest yak stew you could imagine, followed by a weird walnut & wheat concoction in a deep bowl and smothered in 2 inches of walnut oil. To be honest the food tasted pretty good at the time, but the oily richness really did for me. I was in agony all night, my stomach doing somersaults, and desperately trying not to be sick…. Great….
It was one of those ‘you wont get this opportunity again, so pull yourself together’ moments next morning, but at least the weather was back to its usual bright blue self, so a slice of dry toast later we set off.
The trail starts at a hotel, goes alongside a massive rusty water pipe suspended on concrete platforms, and slowly winds its way up to a series of switch-backs where the hard work starts. So we thought at least. Our normally reliable Maps.me app took us this way, but our path was often blocked by tree saplings or areas washed away by leaks in the pipe (holes ingeniously, but not wholly successfully, plugged with shoes). Reaching the foot of the switch-backs we were collared by a bloke from the gatehouse on the real path. He looked a little smug as if he’d caught a couple of fare dodgers trying to sneak past and avoid the exorbitant 80p entry charge.
All our thoughts about last night soon disappeared once we started up the zig-zag shale covered slopes. Soon our only thoughts were, “why are my lungs trying to kill me” and “why have the muscles in my legs been replaced with lead weights”. We keep forgetting we’re at altitude and that Pakistani eating habits are more conducive to the lifestyle of the couch-potato than the active hiker.
The start of the multiple switch-backs (the smile soon faded….)
We both struggled here. Helen was starting to blame me for her new life of abject misery. I just tried to put one foot in front of the other, feeling damn awful. We were overtaken by a party of four young fit persons, striding away like they were going downhill. That didn’t improve the mood. It was getting hotter and hotter and with very little shade about. It took us about an hour and a half to reach the top of this section, though it felt interminable… We normally love hiking, so the pain was unwelcome to put it mildly.
At the top of the switch-backs, some genius had decided to open a tea and biscuit stand of all things. A small stone shack with covered seating. Hot black tea never tasted so good – it was manna from heaven. Of course, being British, once we’d had a cup of tea everything was fine – the path gradually levelled out from ‘killer steep’ to just ‘very uphill’, Helen stopped hating me for making her do this, we could see the progress and height gain we’d made and I stopped feeling like utter crap. We even started enjoying ourselves.
The tea stop. An oasis in the desert of depair…
About half-way up to the camp-site we walked past a tiny hamlet, with tiny square houses made of dry stone. An elderly gent popped out of one and beckoned us in for more tea. We obliged and as he went out to get some firewood for his stove, a younger man came in and explained that this happened whenever he sees foreign hikers. We were glad of the younger guy’s appearance as the elderly man spoke no English at all, so conversation was already proving somewhat limited. He was also deaf. We then had a rather strange chat where what we said was translated into a shout. What was shouted back was translated into quieter English. It seems the old man was obsessed with folklore, but seemed to think it was real, talking of shaman’s tricks and giants in the local forests throwing boulders for miles. It was a little surreal. He took his tea in a very traditional style – dunking the end of a slab of salt for flavour and then adding chunks of bread. Luckily we got sugar. We must have spent an hour here, sheltering from the sun and talking about goblins…..
Our genial host for tea
The rest of the walk to the Hapakun campsite was long and steep, though nowhere near as painful as the switch-backs and we arrived in relatively good spirits. The sun was still shining, it was getting a little cooler and we’d finished with the pain for the day. The Hapakun campsite is run by four separate operators, each vying for your business. When we arrived we were pounced on by the first who seemed a little over eager. We also noticed some rather sullen looking campers – the same youngsters who’d passed us earlier in the day. We choose the next one, where a more lively party of women on a women’s only tour were staying.
All the campsites here have pre-constructed tents, sleeping bags and a mess tent, allowing you to hike the mountain without the need for heavy gear. It’s rather well kitted out to be honest and we got a great little tent with large mattresses and two heavy duty sleeping bags each. The shower arrangements were interesting. For those that wanted one (i.e. me), there was a path down to a small waterfall where you could bathe to your heart’s content. No-one said it was less that two feet tall though, so my shower consisted of squatting down in a puddle and trying to embrace the weedy trickle. Still it got me clean, if somewhat icily. Dinner was taken in the mess tent with the others – simple vegetables and rice, but with a wonderful rice-pudding like desert. We sat there with all the clothes we’d brought both on and tucked in as the temperature dropped to near freezing.
Home for the night
View from Hapakun campsite
Hapakun campsite
As morning dawned I decided to try and reach the Rakaposhi view point, a further 350 metres up the hill. Helen had only ever agreed to go as far as the Hapakun site so was pleased to stay back and read in the lovely morning sunshine. She watched two donkeys having it away apparently.
The hike up was fierce. Still feeling groggy from my food experience the other night I was terribly slow, picking local landmarks as targets and slowly making my way towards them, grateful for the breather when I got there. The targets got closer and closer. I was wheezing at each one like an asthmatic 40-a-day smoker. But still you push on and eventually, you get your reward.
The sight that greets you is completely hidden until you reach a ridge, almost at the top of the hike. You’re presented with a wonderful alpine scene – the majestic Rakaposhi mountain to your right, gleaming like a bright white beacon in the glorious morning sun. In front and to your left is the Minapin glacier, a massive tongue of creaking white peaks shot through with dark stripes of silt and sand. Quite breathtaking. I had the scene entirely to myself.
The Rakaposhi viewpoint
Minapin glacier
Minapin glacier
Having checked the map I realised it was only a kilometre and 100 metres ascent more to make it to the Rakaposhi Base Camp itself. It was too good an opportunity to miss, even though I was totally buggered. I made my way towards the mountain, over paths bolstered by rocks to keep them from falling onto the glacier far below. The path got narrower and narrower until I reached a point where it seemed to disappear altogether. All I could see were tiny shallows of shale that looked just about big enough to place the side of your foot. Below was a 150ft plus drop, pitched at about 80 degrees by my reckoning. One where you’d plunge down and not come back if you fell, in other words. Not surprisingly, I hesitated. The adrenaline coursing round my veins made my decision for me – I’d go for it. Slowly edging my way across I used one of my trekking poles as a prop, ramming it as far as I could into the shale, then stepping careful into the tiny depressions, all the while whispering ‘don’t look down for God’s sake’. I had to edge upwards to avoid a large fallen rock, then repeat the process going slightly downhill. The entire stretch was probably only about 4 metres long. It felt somewhat longer…
Having made it over I was exhilarated, but quickly realised I’d have to do it all again on the way back….. Nevermind – for now I pushed on and reached the snowbound base camp, sinking up to my knees in snow as I approached. It’s only a stone shack with a sign, but it was another ambition realised, and with the heat, my state of health and the attitude (about 3500m at this point) it seemed one hard earned.
The path at its widest, shored up by stones
Having made it over I was exhilarated, but quickly realised I’d have to do it all again on the way back….. Nevermind – for now I pushed on and reached the snowbound base camp, sinking up to my knees in snow as I approached. It’s only a stone shack with a sign, but it was another ambition realised, and with the heat, my state of health and the altitude (about 3500m at this point) it seemed one hard earned.
Rakaposhi Base Camp
On the way back I noticed a pitched tent. Someone had clearly done what I’d done carrying camping gear! I was seriously impressed. I made it back over the tricky bit with no problems, though my knees were shaking like hell when I reached safety. Two curious cows that were mulling around the base camp had decided to follow me back. I looked back at them approaching the fallen rock. They too hesitated, then with a brave bound they scrambled their way across, sending masses of shale and any remnant of the path cascading down the slope. Before we set off I’d asked a local guide whether there were any bad parts to be aware of. “Oh no”, he said, “it’s not dangerous at all”. I’d be interested to know what constitutes danger in his book….
We both made it back to Minapin without further incident, though we were both exhausted. Good job we could have a rest then. No wait, we had to get up at 04:30 to start our crossing of the Shandur Pass. Who’s bright idea was that then?………..
Simon (5th May 2025)
Wow what an achievement, well done both!!!
Thank you Claire – we were completely knackered, but very satisfied.
Think I’ve brought up a mountain goat. Well done. XX
Thanks. Should have been easier but too much lush food is making us a bit slugglish