Like most border towns, Taftan is not there to be dazzling. There is no petrol station, so I spent some time bargaining for canister fuel along the main road. Unfortunately the governmental guesthouse was closed for maintenance, so I had to settle for the second best option in town, the hard-to-believe filthy and inhospitable tourist hotel by the roundabout. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Like most border towns, Taftan is not there to be dazzling. There is no petrol station, so I spent some time bargaining for canister fuel along the main road. Unfortunately the governmental guesthouse was closed for maintenance, so I had to settle for the second best option in town, the hard-to-believe filthy and inhospitable tourist hotel by the roundabout. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
Welcome to Taftan. Here you can… well, nothing really

Allegedly you can pitch a tent outside the Pakistani Custom building (inside the guarded area), though I did not know it then. I wish I did. There is also a rest house inside the border on the Iranian side, though you might want to be through with the formalities and ready to go at daybreak. The unfriendly atmosphere in Taftan was exhausting, and I escaped an hour before sunrise. The change to left side driving required some mind adjustments, and with 630km to Quetta it would be the longest ride on the entire trip to Katmandu. The first 280km to Dalbandin was nice and fast, and there was a petrol bazaar at the outskirts of the village. Again some bargaining, starting at 55 rupees per liter, with the closing offer being 35. On this first leg there was nowhere to buy bottled water (so you better bring what you need from Taftan). Allegedly Dalbandin has a hotel too, but after my accommodation experiences in Taftan I’d rather sleep in a pile of camel manure. The reputedly dangerous speed bumps, described to be at the east end of Dalbandin, are found at every railway crossing and in most settlements all the way to Quetta.

The petrol hustlers in Dalbandin will try to rip you off

For the final 350km the road declined to the extent that I early on questioned whether I was lost or not. The plummet in road quality did not slow me down. On the contrary, the offroaders 30cm suspensionway finally came in handy, and I blasted over the rocks and through the desert, arriving Quetta in less than nine hours total. To my mothers joy I had not been taken hostage by hooligans (hello Mum, I’m OK). Even better, the carburetor overhaul in Bam had cured Balto’s fuel problem. Hurray!

The first encounter with other overland bikers since Croatia: Steve and Anna from Australia were riding a BMW camouflaged with schoolbook paper to make it less flashy

Quetta stinks! Someone said it is the second most polluted city in the world. That might not be entirely true, though it is a good bet. It is mind-boggling that people choose to live in all that noxiousness and filth. I mean, they might not be able to live elsewhere, but they might wanna do something to clean up their home. The abrupt change of environment required a few days to adjust, and I found a decent place to stay, the Bloom Star Hotel which also has secure parking. The hotel also offered some peculiar solutions. The light switch to the room was outside, the door was locked by pushing a button on the inside, and to get hot water in the shower you had to yank the knob while turning it. It took some time getting customized to these patents, and with the arrival of a little gas oven it became quite cozy in there.

This might look like a gloomy scene from the Quetta suburbs, but it is the view outside the highest ranked restaurant in the city centre (hey, you should have seen those suburbs…)