A tip o' the hat to reader William J., who e-mailed me the link to this article after viewing the video I posted two days ago about a particularly tight and difficult mountain pass.
From the New York Times, we read about the mountain pass between Kabul and Jalalabad in Afghanistan.
Even in a nation beset by war and suicide bombings, you would be hard-pressed to find anything as reliably terrifying as the national highway through the Kabul Gorge.
The 40-mile stretch, a breathtaking chasm of mountains and cliffs between Kabul and Jalalabad, claims so many lives so regularly that most people stopped counting long ago. Cars flip and flatten. Trucks soar to the valley floor. Buses play chicken; buses collide.
The mayhem unfolds on one of the most bewitching stretches of scenery on all the earth. The gorge, in some places no more than a few hundred yards wide, is framed by vertical rock cliffs that soar more than 2,000 feet above the Kabul River below. Most people die, and most cars crash, while zooming around one of the impossible turns that offer impossible views of the crevasses and buttes.
. . .
One day last week, 13 accidents unfolded on the road in a mere two hours, all of them catastrophic, nearly all of them fatal. The daylong drizzle made the day slightly more calamitous than most. At one scene, a bloodied family grieved for their kin trapped in a flattened car. At another, a minibus lay crushed beneath the hulk of a jackknifed truck. At still another, the bottom of a ravine was filled with a car’s twisted remains.
And yet even as those accidents spread themselves across the roadway, the cars sailed heedlessly past. Taxis and buses weaved and passed one another at bone-chilling speeds, with only millimeters separating them from bloody catastrophe.
“The fighting with the Taliban lasts only for a day or two, but the crashes are every day,” said Juma Gul, who owns a fabric shop in Sarobi that looks directly out onto the highway. “It’s a kind of theater. Sometimes, a car will fly by in the air.”
The lethality of the roadway stems from the unique mix of geography, the road itself, and the drivers’ disregard for the laws of physics.
The two-lane highway is barely wide enough for two cars to pass. On the inside lane, less than a yard outside your window, stands a wall of treeless rock that climbs upward in a nearly perpendicular line. A foot-high ledge guards the outside lane, behind which lies a valley floor as far as 1,000 feet down.
For the drivers, of course, that means there is virtually no margin for error: they go into the wall, or over the edge, or into each other.
The only note of caution is provided by children, who live in the impoverished villages nearby. Often as young as 4 or 5, they stand bedraggled at the bends, using flattened green Sprite bottles as flags, waving the drivers through when the way is clear.
. . .
The cars zoom at astonishing speeds, far faster than would ever be allowed on a similar road in the West, if there was one. Like Formula One drivers, the Afghans dart out along the sharpest of turns, slamming their cars back into their lanes at the first flash of oncoming disaster. Most of the time they make it.
The danger is heightened by other things. On paper, the government of Afghanistan requires that drivers pass a test to get a license, but few people here seem to have one.
Then there are the cars themselves, battered Toyota taxis and even Ladas from bygone Soviet days. A typical Afghan car has bald tires and squeaky brakes—not exactly ideal for zigging and zagging through the mountains.
But perhaps the gravest threat, apart from speed of the cars, is the slowness of the trucks. The massive tractor-trailers that move cargo in and out of Pakistan are often overloaded by thousands of pounds. They cannot move fast; if they are climbing one of the gorge’s thousand-foot hills, they cannot move at all. They get stuck. They fall back. They fall over.
So the cars and their drivers stack up behind them, angry and impatient, and rush and maneuver and pass them at the first chance.
And so the cars crash, one after the other.
There's more at the link, and more photographs here. Recommended (albeit scary) reading.
A quick search found this video, taken from what appears to be a US Army truck, going through the pass. It certainly makes one think!
I'll try to avoid that pass, thank you very much . . .
Peter
Now do it on a pea gravel road, where you start to slide out towards the edge on every turn. Without retaining barriers.
ReplyDelete.. but then you'd be driving in Idaho. The road out from Boise to Silver City I want to say, but that's prolly wrong. Love to see a video of that. :)
Reminds me of a few places I have driven in the Alps, although the Germans and Austrians have much better safety barriers. Considering that this video was shot in a combat zone, to boot, I don't think I'd want to take a drive there.
ReplyDelete