I am the type of person who gets excited about two things: hiking and meeting new people. So, when the opportunity comes along to do both together I will usually pounce on it.  The first steps as one leaves the hostel are very exhilarating -- that crunch of rock and dirt under your boots, a warm sun and a cool mountain breeze. This was the beginning of my recent hike into the northern areas of Pakistan to see the peak of Rakaposhi (elevation 25,551 feet) started off with much zeal and a little trepidation.

I have made many trips in the past -- usually self-organised and in the back-packer style of travel but this was the first time my wife was going with me so I felt I should take the trip with a professional organisation.

I chose Discover Pakistan as it had good reviews from friends which proved to be a good decision. We, 22 eager souls prepared for an adventure, met up in I-8 in Islamabad. Around me on the bus was my wife, two of her friends and a friend’s cousin, Zunaira, who had just returned from studying in Canada. Retrospectively, the first clue that should have concerned me about her preparedness was when she was looking for 4G signals on the Karakoram Highway, where you are lucky if you get any mobile reception at all.

The other passengers included a PhD studying aerospace engineering, a smattering of HR people, a fashion designer and a few corporate types. The group was evenly divided between Islamabadis, Lahoris and a few people from Southern Punjab. We were led very ably from the helm of the bus by Umar Siddique, our organiser and an ever-reliable trip leader. Our driver was about to spend 26 hours on a treacherous, rocky and often fatal road but seemed genuinely happy to be driving up into this unforgiving world.

Our journey took us past Abbottabad and Mansehra which offers a lush green, humid environment. We fell asleep sometime in the night propped up on expensive travel pillows or inexpensive shoulders of friends and woke up to the sharply contrasting mountains of Kohistan, the land of mountains. The scene is difficult to imagine and the scale impossible to photograph. This is a landscape of crumbling grey-brown rocks leading up to craggy mountain tops -- a landscape so barren and apparently hostile that one wonders at the ability of the poor humans and animals living here.

About 50 feet below and to the left roars the Indus -- a sharp inclination in its course here sends the water gushing into white froth. We stop at Sumbar Nala (sometimes mispronounced Summer Nala), an oasis in this mountainous desolation, a few small dhabas that have likely changed very little more than the mountains around them over the last few thousand years of trade this part of the silk route has seen. Indeed, throughout the KKH there are smatterings of ancient rock carvings made my fellow travellers pray to old gods for safe passage. As we wind our way through the mountains, we continue to grow closer with fellow travellers -- most have been on hikes before, a few having only returned weeks ago were still full of tales of their last adventure to Chitral. Zunaira was confident she would do well as she had been to the northern areas many times. My wife and her friends having prior knowledge of my mode of travel and eagerness for hardship were weary of the hike but still looking forward to the challenge. We caught a glimpse of Nanga Parbat (9th highest mountain in the world) as our inward journey was ending but much of it was obscured by smaller, closer mountains.

We reached Diran Guesthouse in Nagar near the Gilgit Valley in the early evening. The next morning the hike began. Being a seasoned traveller, I was aware of how important backpack weight was so I cut my weight down to nine kilogrammes for my wife and I, excluding water and snacks.

Our hike began uneventfully in the early morning. We walked through Diran village where the people of Nagar had already begun their day -- middle-aged women could be seen in the fields being helped by little kids on their summer holidays. A few men could be seen pulling carts or minding shops. The hike began at a dam which sat near a small river at the far end of the village, a moderate incline lead us up a dirt road.

However, at that very moment, Zunaira slumped down into the dirt, "Main nahin ker sakti yeh (I cannot do this)", she declared while lying face up, pale and looking more like someone who should be wheeled into an emergency department than someone about to start a two-day hike.

Umar’s face drained as Zunaira gave up. He said later that he felt she would be able to cope well and was very surprised that she was the one to go down so early. The five or six of us who were at the back of the pack at this point stooped down to get her up and moving but nothing worked. Finally, Umar was able to use his skills as a team leader, a few choice harsh boot camp style statements and he was able to coax her into moving. This scene repeated itself every few minutes between Zunaira and two girls until we reached our campsite, six hours later.

Everyone was a bit sweaty after hours under the hot sun and happy to finally be resting. Umar and his friend, Daniyal, were there for every step. I can safely say that none of my group would have made it up had it not been for their patience and perseverance. Along the way, the two of them had christened them the "Easy Company" after the WWII HBO mini-series Band of Brothers.

Towards the end of the hike the harsh rocky landscape had given way to green forest and patches of cultivation. Our campsite sat in a small grassy plateau called Hakpun.

That night, there was a lovely campfire. True to their nature, the locals of Hakpun and our porters started a singing competition. "Hunza verses Nagar!" was shouted out, a flute appeared and a large blue storage drum provided the percussion. People often attribute clean air and healthy food as the reason for the local Burushaski’s long lives but I suspect it has more to do with their ability to spontaneously break out into song and dance, to easily be happy anywhere.

Our hike started the next day for the yet invisible Rakaposhi. Zunaira and the others recovered as quickly as they had fallen and performed admirably on the hike towards Rakaposhi base camp with Umar always there for support. It was a pleasant hike with a cool breeze running off the nearby glacier and went by very fast, sped on by enlivening conversation.

After a few hours, we were all rewarded finally with the dazzlingly bright face of Rakaposhi, its peak visible intermittently between little clumps of clouds at 25,551 feet above sea level.

"It’s so beautiful!" my wife exclaimed, pointing at the mountain and the black and white jagged surface of the glacier. The base camp from where we took in the view was the highest point to which we climbed, at approx 10,800 feet above sea level.

The descent was largely uneventful. After a good night’s sleep at the Diran guesthouse, we set off the next day to continue our trip with a short tour of Attabad Lake, Pasu Glacier and Karimabad, the capital of Hunza. In Karimabad, we visited the stunning Altit Fort and the garden, which is perched on a rock overlooking the road into China so that the ancient rulers could monitor traffic.

Although there are many ways to experience the northern areas, I would strongly recommend including a short hike and Karimabad on your itinerary. Of course, there is no better way to get there than to go on a road trip with friends.

For more photos from the trip check the author’s Flickr page