Taking the train from Zāhedān in Iran to Quetta in Pakistan
Zāhedān is the capital of Iran’s southeast Sistan and Baluchistan province and is located near the tri-point of the borders between Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. The city is hot, dusty and practically lawless and the only reason to go there is because it is the closest place to the only legal crossing point between Iran and Pakistan at Mirjaveh/Taftan.
I arrived in Zāhedān with my then-girlfriend in May 1995 in order to catch the twice-monthly train to Quetta in Pakistan. Not that many years ago, Zāhedān was called Dozda, which translates as Thieves, and having spent the afternoon of our arrival wandering through its streets, I can tell you it is not the sort of place you want to spend any time in unless you absolutely have to. It was like a scene out of Arabian Nights with shady characters on every street corner watching our every move. It was horrible and we couldn’t wait to leave.
In the morning we made our way to the railway station and boarded the carriage that was to be our home for at least the next 30 hours. Lonely Planet, on their website, describes the train journey from Zāhedān to Quetta as follows:
The long, remote, dusty, sometimes cold and often uncomfortable train trip between Zahedan and Quetta, in Pakistan, is guaranteed to be a story you’ll tell until you die. If you’re someone who enjoys meeting people, isn’t fussed by hardship (carriages are simple with wooden seats and no sleepers) and has plenty of time, you’ll probably enjoy it. If not, take the bus.
I don’t remember there being a bus option but I do remember the train journey being exactly as Lonely Planet described it. Our train carriage was beaten-up at best, there was nowhere to lay down and get some sleep and during the night the temperature dropped and it was freezing cold.
The train to Quetta in Pakistan in March 1995
I also remember making friends, albeit not in the conventional manner. The train was making one of its frequent stops in the middle of nowhere and for no apparent reason (we weren’t near a station) and so I decided to get off for a bit. As I was about to climb the steps and re-board the train, a Pakistani man stuck his head out of the door and spat a mouthful of phlegm right square into my face. I was a little taken back and a tad pissed off but he was totally mortified by what he had done. It was, after all, an accident and for the rest of the journey, he and his family treated us both like royalty, giving us blankets, food, cups of tea and all sorts of other treats.
Fellow passengers including the one who spat in my face by accident (squatting) on the train to Quetta in Pakistan
As an aside, as soon as we crossed the border into Pakistan, my then-girlfriend liberated herself of her black chador and headscarf that she hadn’t taken off for two weeks and much to the amusement of our fellow passengers threw them both out of the train window.
Leaving Zāhedān didn’t mean that the security issues were behind us. Prior to boarding the train, we had heard rumours, confirmed by our fellow passengers, that this route across the Baluchestan desert was notorious for being targeted by bandits. I took the usual precautions (hiding cash in my shoes, stuffing money-belts where the sun don’t shine and that sort of thing) but there was little that could be done if our particular train was raided.
And raided we were but thankfully not by bandits but instead by the Pakistani police. It was like being in a scene from a Western movie. The train was rattling along at its customary 20-30km per hour when out of the blue (well the desert actually), we caught sight of about ten black pickup trucks which sidled up beside us and kept up with us on both sides of the train. It took a while for the train to come to a standstill (why, doing that speed?) and during this interim period, everyone bar the two of us went into a frantic panic and started jabbering in Urdu. Then a couple of guys asked us if we would mind saying that we owned the four blue water containers that were on the rack above our head.
We looked up simultaneously. It was only at this point that I first noticed not just the four blue water containers above our heads but dozens more like it crammed into every nook and cranny of the carriage. Even though we had just come from what was probably the drug ‘capital’ of the region, we didn’t give it a moment’s thought and said OK to their request. Looking back, that was an incredibly naive thing to do and I have never done it since but we had become friends with these people and they were asking us to help them out.
As it turned out, the water containers were empty and just, well, water containers and the Pakistani police had instigated their raid because the train was a known means of smuggling water containers from Iran to Pakistan!
Confiscating blue water containers on the train to Quetta in Pakistan
I got talking to one of the police officers, who told me there was a shortage of water containers in Pakistan and good money could be made by smuggling (smuggling – how do you smuggle a water container!) them across the border and selling them on the black market. The police officer didn’t believe for one moment that the four water containers that we dutifully said were ours did, in fact, belong to us. He did find it amusing though.
The whole raid became farcical. The police would go from one carriage to the next starting at the back of the train and throw the water containers out onto the side of the track to await collection from the pickup trucks. But before the pickup trucks had time to collect them, the passengers would run down, pick up the water containers and take them back onto the train. When they reached the front of the train, the police would then return to the back of the train, board the last carriage and throw the water containers out onto the side of the track once more. The passengers would then … well, you get the picture. This went on for hours and if I didn’t have the photos to prove it, I would be convinced that my memory had started playing tricks on me over the past twenty years and that I had made up the whole story!
The train to Pakistan eventually got going again and we travelled the rest of the way to Quetta without incident, arriving some 40 hours later. Quetta was heaven compared to the train journey and after a hot shower, we went to the best hotel in town, the Serena Inn, and gorged on the all-you-can-eat-buffet.
Until we have the opportunity to return to Iran and Pakistan, all I can do is reminisce about my travels there. Read more: Pakistan and Iran.
Very interesting and amusing. So, who finally won the tussle over the water containers? Did the police confiscate them or did you and your fellow smugglers manage to retain them?
And I don’t know about British English, but in American English stuffing something “where the sun don’t shine” refers to a very specific part of your anatomy. I’m wondering if you really did stuff your money belts there. If so, ouch.
Thank you Doug, glad you enjoyed it. From memory, I think the police got the better of the day but it took an age and a lot of stick bashing!
The British version of ‘where the sun don’t shine’ is the same as yours and nope, I didn’t really do that. I would have perferred to have lost the content!
Haha
My grandpa who was in the Indian Army , taught or trained at the staff college in Quetta in the 1920’s/30’s and learnt Urdu there, ( amongst other places ) but I don’t recall any train or water container stories ! Would plastic have even been around then I wonder .
Very interesting Fiona. I would love to see photos etc one day. Did he ever travel on the Bolan Railway through the Bolan Pass do you know (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bolan_Pass)? When I left Quetta I travelled on the railway Pass as far as Multan. It was a great journey but again not without incident but I am unable to write that story up because I don’t have any photos.
Wow! This is my dream trip! I really want to do this but am a little skeptical about the safety.
I think it is right to be. I did this trip twenty odd years ago and Pakistan was dodgy back then but dodgy is better than dangerous and many parts of Pakistan are dangerous. If you decide to go, head north to the Hunza Valley, there is less risk up there and besides, it is the most beautiful part of the country.
Brilliant story!
Definitely shows that the times that are uncomfortable, weird, you’re not sure what’s happening, and are high risk end up being the best stories to tell over and over for years 🙂
Thank you for your comment Adam. You are right in what you say, but I seem to have more ‘high risk’ stories about Pakistan than anywhere! It’s a shame Pakistan is not 100% safe at the moment as it is a great country to travel in. Ironically when I was there during the trip mentioned about it was the Sind that was unsafe because of kidnapping but now I think it is considered one of the safer provinces and the Punjab is worse (which used to be OK). We will keep the country on our wish list and see what happens!
Love this post. I’m reading Paul Theroux’s “The Great Railway Bazaar” (highly recommended, btw), and this article made me think of that immediately.
As has been commented, it’s a shame that Pakistan is now so off limits for most people, I’d love to go if circumstances were different.
Thank you Fernado and indeed ‘The Great Railway Bazaar’ is a good book. Slightly different, but if you are interested in that part of the world then ‘The Great Game’ by Peter Hopkirk is also a great read. May be we should get a group of like-minded travellers together to go to Pakistan. Safety in numbers and all that!
What an amazing experience, and quite comical.
These are the reasons we all travel. For these once in a lifetime moments.
Thank you for your comments and I am glad you enjoyed it. We hope to have some modern day stories about Pakistan in the not so distant future – finger, legs and everything else crossed!!
Can I you the train photo in my article about the train? I am not profiting in any way. I am an amateur writer like you
Please check you email for our reply. Thanks.
I realize a couple years have gone by and that the comments section may no longer be operative, but I did this trip in August 1963, and subsequently celebrated my 21 birthday in Ceylon, (now Sri Lanka)……..just wanted to say that conditions obviously improved immeasurably.
That sounds like an epic journey. Would love to have journeyed through that part of the world back. Presumably you started in Europe and made your way overland to India and then down to Sri Lanka. Could you get from India to Sri Lanka without flying back then?
At that time there was a ferry between Dhanushkodi-Talaimannar….went by train from Madras……had my 21st birthday in Colombo.
Repeated myself re birthday, (unfortunately no edit capabilities)…….yes, started in England, went overland to Colombo, stayed a month, bought a black market ticket for a French ship to Singapore, thence Darwin by air…….hitched Darwin-Melbourne.
Sounds like a brilliant adventure! Probably not possible these days though!
My journey through Zahidan was in 1958 when it was quite a small town with no sealed roads. The train didn’t come to Zahidan at the time ‘cos of a cholera outbreak so with a German hitch-hiker, Wolfgang Eck (Where are you now, Wolfgang?) walked to the border with Pakistan. We did it at night ‘cos it was cooler (strange -‘I see tonight’s temperature is 1 deg Celsius) and a full moon. We followed the rails for an hour then the track made an alarming sweep to the left; a big, long sweep according to our map. I fancied myself as a navigator and Venus was quite low in the sky so we decided to head for the star. Sure enuff, an hour on-course and the rail line reappeared and we trudged on until we came to the Pakistan border post. I don’t recall any dramas on the trip from Zahidan to Karachi, The last part of our journey was on The Bolan Mail which we joined somewhere. But I’d been travelling for a long time in these days and unless I encountered violent death or an unusually beautiful woman, it took a lot to raise my eyebrows.
Hi Archie, that’s a great story! Travelling in that manner is a lot harder these days and it sounds like it was an adventure. I also took the Bolan Mail when I left Quetta. I had an incident on that train also, which I intend to write up one of these days. Another thing we have in common is the fact that I have also walked into Pakistan but I did it from China via the Khunjerab Pass. It’s a journey I’ll never forget – you can read about it if you are interested. Thanks for commenting, Mark
https://www.kathmanduandbeyond.com/aga-khans-helicopter-travels-through-pakistan/
Sixty years ago I took this train journey on my way from England to Australia. Usually I hitch-hiked but I could not find a way to get from Iran to Pakistan as what few trucks were travelling would not contemplate having a passenger. I had to walk for miles over desert countryside to get to the train. When three or four miles from the train the sun was setting and slowly getting darker. I noticed half a dozen large rangy dogs trotting in a circle about a 100yds away, and worse than that they came a little closer at every circuit. Eventually I was pleased to see a lone carriage sat on the tracks in the middle of nowhere. The dogs were now roughly 30 yds away and kept up little yelps as though talking to each other. Arriving at the carriage I was disappointed to find the doors locked, but I heard voices inside. I shouted hello and a voice told me the carriage was full and for me to go away, this went on for a while and I was really frightened that the dogs would come under the carriage and attack, eventually I am ashamed to admit I threatened everybody on board the carriage with mayhem in the morning when the train arrived if they did not let me in. That did the trick and they opened up and let me in.To my surprised there were about a dozen people inside plus several children. Once I was inside they were very nice to me and offered me some food which they were cooking on the floor using little brass cookers.The voyage took for ever and there was only the floor to lie on and I was ever so glad to arrive in Pakistan.
Hello Malcolm, that’s a great (and slightly terrifying) story and thanks for sharing it. I also have a fear of packs of dogs. Nowadays, we go into quite a few abandoned places and my biggest fear is running into a pack of feral dogs – you can at least negotiate/talk to people in these places. Still, if you stray into the territory of a pack of dogs, it’s a different story. I remember miles and miles of desert countryside as we rode across Iran before arriving in Pakistan, and my memories of Zāhedān and what a terrible place it was are still as vivid as if it were yesterday. Thanks again for sharing your memories.
Oh my goodness, I made the same journey in 1995 too, and although there was no police presence on this journey. My mate and I had the entire rear carriage to ourselves as we moved away from the border, then an unexpected stop in the middle of no where and everyone and their uncle jumped aboard carrying more plastic containers than I previously could imagine. From Quetta we traveled to Lahore and had to get off when the police raided the train looking for “Iranian tea sets” – I’m not sure if this is a euphemism, but that was the final straw for and we got off for the a night sleeping on the floor of a waiting room. I’m so chuffed I’ve seen this page, it’s brought back some great memories, thanks!
Hi Richard, that’s brilliant that you had a similar experience. From the comments on this post, it would seem that those sorts of shenanigans were commonplace back then! I would love to do the journey once more just to see what would happen but with a British passport, it is difficult to travel independently in Iran these days. That reminds me, I also have a story about crossing the border from Turkey into Iran on the same trip. We were detained, albeit very nicely, by the police for our first few hours in Iran because we were mistaken for two Western smugglers that were known to the authorities. I should put pen to paper again! Thanks for taking the time to share your experience!
I made the crossing in 1963 after spending a week waiting for the train in the building that served as a “station” in the desert with camel trains passing by. By this time a small group of Europeans had assembled and we commandeered a car only allowing one old, frail, turbaned local in. At the border, where the train slowed, a large number of people sprang up out of the desert floor and ran to the train to jump on board. In the middle of nowhere our local descended and shuffled off into the hot, empty, treeless hills. The train rattled its way slowly through incredibly hot terrain as we suffered with dysentery eventually arriving in Quetta to change trains for the crossing via Lahore then on across India third class to Calcutta. There was a European female on board who was alleged to have a gun.
Wow – all the way to Calcutta, that’s a journey and a half! I did the same actually, but took several months to get there. I cannot imagine spending a week in Zāhedān. It is certainly one of those journeys that one never forgets! Thank you for sharing your memories.
I also rode the train from Zāhedān to Quetta several times in 1974/75, going from Tehran to Dehli.
At the time, occasionally the train was full, with local recruit’s going to fight in the Israel/Egypt War. Others, most were locals doing trade, smuggling stuff,, or visiting family. When in Quetta, walking through town, one would see CNC machines in the clay huts, primarily drilling gun parts; which both, the Soviet’s and US, used in regional conflicts around the world …. In the allies, these black electric lines were running all over sections of the village.
At the tea shops, the men would take off their shoes, place their guns outside against the walls, and spend the day gossiping between prayers..
I was all but once the only Westerner on the train. As a hippy from South Dakota, the region was rich with adventure during the 70’s.
Fantastic insights Jim, thanks for sharing your memories here. Your recollection of the local men leaving their guns propped up against the outside wall of the tea shops while they relaxed and chatted made me smile as I have a similar memory of my time in Darra near the Khyber Pass, where the men did exactly the same thing.
Sounds similar to the journey I made in 1975 as solo female traveler. I knew ahead that this was a smuggler train and at one point the Pakistani army came and started to take the floor and walls apart….no water containers but Western commodities were confiscated. Probably somebody didn’t pay enough baksheesh….
Smugglers also had some stuff under my seat that the military didn’t touch.
Also before they all started praying even though it wasn’t the usual time for Namaz. One English speaker in my compartment explained that this is where the train frequently gets held up…. I just hoped they prayed hard enough.
Definitely a once in a lifetime experience
I hung out with a German tourist and the trip went relatively smoothly… smugglers shared food and water with us
Thank you for sharing your memories and it definitely sounds like a similar experience. Judging by all the other comments on this post, it seems we are not alone and it was a common occurrence back in the day.
Wow, I did this trip in early September 1995 travelling overland from London to Hong Kong and remember well the water containers (and arriving into Quetta some 10 hours late at 1am caked in desert dust). There was a loud crash in the night as their carefully constructed wall of water containers collapsed, and I helped them rebuild it amid the flickering electric lights.
They’d even filled the toilets with the things so you had to wait until the train stopped to nip off and find somewhere (which was frequent enough). You could also pick up some food and lovely fruit at the stops.
Everyone was super friendly and some kind soul lent me blankets as the night temperature plummeted. I spent two or three days in Quetta catching on on sleep before heading south to Karachi, then back up north to Lahore/Rawalpindi/Peshawar amongst a few other places, then leaving the rails altogether and heading up the Karakorum highway into China.
Great pictures and fantastic photos too, I took a fair amount of snaps but for some reason didn’t on that particular train trip. Just as I remember. Pakistan was one of my favourite countries. Happy days!
Thank you for sharing your memories, Archie, which are almost identical to my own experience. I don’t remember the toilet being also packed with blue water containers—perhaps we got off lucky on that score. However, as you say, there were so many stops that it didn’t matter too much anyway – at least not for the men on the train, that is!
You were braver than us by heading south once you arrived in Pakistan. Back then, there were many problems in the south of the country, and we were told to avoid Karachi by the British embassy staff in Tehran!
Lonely Planet was correct – if you have done this journey, then it is something you will remember forever.