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| Band-e Pudina, with Band-e Zulfiqar beyond |
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| First sight of Band-e Amir |
Band-e Amir bursts upon you suddenly as you emerge from the encircling cliffs, but you may not notice it at first as your vehicle bumps its heart-stopping way down the slope into the valley. You'll look up and see a blue lake above an odd cliff, with feathery waterfalls tumbling over the edge. The valley is surrounded by rugged bluffs that resemble the walls of an ancient and ruined city. Gradually the details will fill in and the scale will fill out and your jaw will begin to drop.
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| Band-e Haibat |
This is a "Don't Miss" for Afghanistan. If it was anywhere else, everyone would know about it and there'd be a five-star resort beside it. But it's in Afghanistan, so almost nobody knows about it. You'll probably be the only non-Afghan visitor there. It's spectacular, and worth spending several days.
I had Band-e Amir pencilled into my itinerary from the start, but it only became a must see when I was in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. I encountered a French photographer who'd just come from Afghanistan. He was editing his photos on his laptop and I noticed one particularly spectacular panoramic shot that he had just stitched together. It showed a natural dam with a startling blue lake behind it. I asked where it was taken and he said "Band-e Amir". Then he zoomed in on the photo, showing more and more detail - small waterfalls, and pools, and trees. I was hooked. I've used my own shot of the same scenery at the top of this blog entry. His was better.
The hotel keepers descended upon me as I got out of the van. I was claimed by the owner of the "Band-e-Amir Hotel", one of a row of glorified
chaikhanas. My private room cost me 600 Afghanis ($15) per night but I was being overcharged, as the manager of the much nicer Gulistan Hotel next door intimated I could have one of his rooms for a mere 300 Afghanis. He was probably trying to "poach" me, not realising I'd already paid for my current room up front.
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| Band-e Amir "Hotel" |
For my money I got a stack of mattresses in a padlocked room whose window was covered only by a gauze curtain. All of the "hotels"
can arrange meals. The various shop stalls sell fresh fruit and other edible items. I took most of my dinners at the "restaurant" run by Mohammed Hosain Azizi, the "old man" of the Band-e Amir tourist trade. He also runs the hotel next up from the Gulistan, which is next up from the Band-e Amir. The toilet was in the mud-brick block at the lower end of the street. The facilities in the toilet were cubicles, some lockable, with holes in the floor. For washing, after dark I could walk down to the streams flowing from the nearest lake. The water was extremely cold. I preferred to swim in the shallower lakes, some of which were warmed a little by the sun during the day. The only drawback was that they were an hour's hot walk from the hotels
Band-e Amir – "band" (pronounced "bund") means "dam", so it's the "Dam of Amir", the Amir being Ali, Mohammed's son-in-law – is actually a sequence of six mineral lakes 2900 metres up in the Koh-e Baba mountains. In order, from highest to lowest, they are called Band-e Zulfiqar (Dam of Zulfiqar, Ali's sword), Band-e Pudina (Dam of Mint), Band-e Panir (Dam of Cheese), Band-e Haibat (Dam of Awe), Band-e Kambar (Dam of the Groom) and Band-e Ghulaman (Dam of the Slaves). Of these, Band-e Kambar has been drained and its floor is now used for cropland while the Dams of Cheese and Mint are small and sandwiched, along with several turquoise pools, between Band-e Zulfiqar (the largest lake) and Band-e Haibat. I walked to or around all of these lakes during my visit.
Day 1 - Around Band-e Haibat
I had pencilled three nights here into my itinerary. I had arrived just after dawn so I had three full days to explore the area. For my first day I decided to do the walking tour outlined in my Lonely Planet guidebook.
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| Band-e Haibat |
I started by walking from my hotel to a knee of the hill that loomed over it. From here I had a good view of the near end of Band-e Haibat. This lake is so-called because it has built up towering travertine walls, covered with trees and dripping with waterfalls. The lake is deep blue. If you walk along its base you will find places where icy water forces its way beneath the natural dam. This water comes from deep beneath the surface and is unaffected by the sun or its absence. Yet it seems that one good earthquake could break the wall and drain the lake. Perhaps this has happened in the past; but I guess that what the lake has built once it can build again, patiently laying down new stone and so raising the lake level until the break is repaired.
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| Qadamjoy Shah-e Aulia |
I walked down the hill and made my way between the cliffs and the lake wall up to the shrine of Qadamjoy Shah-e Aulia ("The place where Ali stood"). This is a holy place to Muslims, but frankly it's a but run-down and unimpressive. I was much more impressed by the row of swan-shaped pedal boats tied up at the lakeside nearby, but unfortunately there was nobody around so I was unable to hire one. I might have overcome this difficulty by "borrowing" one but they were securely chained together. Twirling my moustache and muttering "curses, foiled again!" I walked on up the hill, passing an odd column of rock resembling a half-hewn statue of a man praying, until I emerged through a crack onto the top of the cliffs overlooking the lake.
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| Tintagel, praying man and another castle |
The view was grand. The cliff tops were vertical stacks of brown stone, like the walls of an enromous fortress. The huge bluff that loomed nearest – which I promptly dubbed "Tintagel" – looked like a medieval castle. More castles were visible to east and west. The lakes nestled within these natural fortifications. The contrasts between cliff, lake and sky were gorgeous.
I followed a beaten track heading east along the cliff edge. As I walked the view changed slowly to reveal new aspects of the lake and the surrounding hills. It was always enchanting, though in places I had to keep my eyes on the ground when the footing turned rough right on the edge of some precipice. Although I was drinking in the view, I had no desire to end up in the drink.
The day was hot but the air was dry. dust puffed up from the path in places, but often the way ran across rocks. I saw no wildlife.
After nearly an hour I noticed something familiar about the cliffs ahead. It bothered me until I realised that I was entering the frame of the French photographer's masterpiece that I had admired in Bishkek. The natural dams were travertine terraces, like those at Pamukkale in Turkey or the (now lost) pink and white terraces in New Zealand. This most spectacular part of the complex was a three-step structure, an upper dam holding back Band-e Zulfiqar, a middle dam cradling Band-e Pudina and a lower dam containing Band-e Panir. The upper dam wall bristled with waterfalls. The middle dam was a long slope crossed by streams. The lower was a vertical wall dropping into Band-e Haibat.
Soon I was standing on a sheer cliff above the dams. There seemed no way to get down. To my right I saw a bluff sticking out and thought perhaps there might be a way down there. I managed to clamber some way down, but eventually I reached a sheer drop. There was no way down here.
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| Boys swimming; a way down? |
I had seen some tiny figures walking across the lower dam. They were closer now - three local boys out for a swim. They had come down onto the dam by way of a road I on the other side. That did me no good – Zulfiqar was too big to walk around, and the way back around Haibat would take me at least two hours in the hot sun. Curses! But I smiled and waved at the boys, and they waved back. Then I raised my eyes and saw an odd ledge running down the cliff to my north.
I made my way back to the main cliff and walked north twards some natural rocks stacks. Soon I struck a dirt road, which ended beside a rough track that ran steeply down. The track led me down to the reedy edge of Band-e Pudina, the smallest lake. I managed to make my way across some rocks to a rough path that ran along the dam separating it from Band-e Zulfiqar. I had to step carefully in places where the water of the large lake ran though worn channels into the smaller lake. Then I walked through some trees and emerged atop the middle dam, looking down on Band-e Panir.
The LP recommends Band-e Panir for swimming because its water is least cold, but in fact I didn't like the slimy feel of the slippery bottom there. I preferred some turquoise pools I found on the north side of the terrace below Band-e Pudina and above Band-e Panir. The middle pool was the deepest and had the cleanest bottom. This was where I had seen the boys bathing. They had already left by the time I found my way down to the lakes from the clifftop.
The water does a good job of washing both clothes and body - soap and washing powder are neither necessary nor (for the sake of the environment) desirable. However, the water dries the skin. By the time I left Band-e Amir the soles of my feet, always prone to cracking, had crumpled like the cakes of mud left behind in a lakebed.
Day 308: Beautiful Band-e Amir (6 September)
On the second day, walk in the other direction to see the villages scattered around Band-e Ghulaman. The second walk lacks the jaw-dropping sights of the first but it's still very beautiful and gives you an initimate view of a way of life that hasn't changed much in centuries. If you have more time you can arrange excursions further afield or just chill for a few days. It's an incredibly relaxing place, where it's easy to forget you are travelling in a country rent by war.
The four villages ringing the lowest lake are worth a look for a glimpse of rural Afghan life, but be prepared to be grilled by the suspicious local Police as to who you are and what you're up to.
Band-e Amir to Bamian
A seat for the 75 km to Bamian will cost about AFN 500. The road to Bamian is extremely rough near Band-e Amir but gets better and sections of it are even paved.
I got a ride with some friendly Kabulis (I paid them petrol money at Bamian, as is the custom if hitching in Afghanistan). Otherwise expect to pay about AFN 500.
Bamian - as a rule the metropolis of the region has no mains electricity or running water. The hope evinced in the LP has evaporated; facilities here have gone backwards in the last few years. However, the accommodation choices in the LP are mostly still there and their reduced circumstances means that they are are, if anything, cheaper now than they were when the LP was researched. Trabsport still gathers outside Mama Najaf's (4 AM, a time of day you'll be used to by now, is a good time to turn up looking for a seat to Kabul, Band-e Amir or Yawkawlang). A seat in a van via the Shipar Pass (the safest route - and the cheaper routes are NOT safe!) will knock you back about AFN 1000. The Kabul road is been slowly upgraded - some sections are paved. Once you come down from the Pass you are on paved road all the way to Kabul.
Security - this is possibly the safest route in Afghanistan. From Lal to the Shipar Pass is Hazari territory. They suffered greatly under the Taliban and few want to see those days return. The police presence is ubiquious but they are there to keep the peace - they don't hassle westerners. Still, dress conservatively (a shalwar kameez is a good idea as even though it probably won't fool the locals they will appreciate the fact that you're dressing like them) and behave respectfully, and keep your temper. You're on an adventure.
Timetable - expect everything to take longer and cost more than you expect. It will take you at least one night, more likely two, maybe even three, to reach Band-e Amir or Bamian.
