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This post was updated on .
Mentioning the trip I did with Chop had me remembering how we set out to sell whiskey along the way, from Kathmandu to London.
In Kathmandu we managed to get our hands on 4 dozen bottles of Johnie Walker and then a further 6 dozen Indian whiskey in Delhi. That makes 10 dozen, or 120 bottles of whiskey to sell in Pakistan and or Iran, naturally at marked up prices.
Our first challenge was to get the 10 dozen bottles, hidden in the back of the boot, through the Pakistan border. I walk into the customs area of the border building to observe the customs officer trying to explain to the Japanese man there, that he could not take his ½ bottle of whiskey into Pakistan. As he struggled to get his message over I asked if I could assist, the customers officer said yes. I spelt out to the Japanese man that it was illegal to bring alcohol into Pakistan, it is just not allowed. The Japanese man said he would leave it here but collect it on his way out of Pakistan. I then went onto suggest that was impractical given he was heading west across the country. My solution, which the Japanese man went with, was to leave the bottle here with this customs man who would make sure the contents of the bottle would be tipped out, wink, wink. Japanese man a bit put out, the customs man happy that a ½ bottle of whiskey would be left in his care and happy to send us on our way knowing we fully understood alcohol was illegal.
As we entered into the country, what was that tinkling noise coming from the rear of the coach? Probably a loose spring leaf.
We stayed at a hotel in Lahore where I asked the guy behind the desk “If ever I had any whiskey to sell would he know anyone who would be interested in buying some?” Yes, he would. If you had any, how much would you have? How much would you want to buy? Possibly a few bottles. I will try to see if I can find any. He suggested the hotel was a bit too obvious; could I deliver it to his place later that evening? I think to myself about the movie “Sting” but nonetheless agree.
After diner Chop, I and our 2 ladies head to the address in the suburbs all dressed up in our shorts, T shirts and thongs. The receptionist/part owner of the hotel greeted us out the front but asked us to come to his home, I remember the movie again. We pass an older style home on the left and head down the driveway to a more modern building at the back. His brother lived in the first house we saw and him back here. It really was modern with a mezzanine level.
Invited into his home we are meet by the p-p-p-pppp , not police but people who had come here after some social outing, possibly a concert. The guests wore lovely sari gowns for the ladies and most men had a black suit and tie. Wow! We were mixing with the upper crust of society, possible even the police commissioner. Our contact hands over enough American Dollars to purchase about 5 or 6 bottles, so Chop goes out to the coach to retrieve the whiskey. Deal done they then have a whip around to buy about another 3 bottles. Out Chop goes to get them. They then ask if we would accept Pakistan rupees, yes but the price will need to go up. The price was agreed so a return trip is made to collect another 4 or 5 bottles.
Our dealing is done and although we are invited to stay, with our best attire on, we decline and get the hell out of there.
That was about our only opportunity to sell whiskey in Pakistan so we still have several dozen left in the boot to get into Iran, how would that go?
As you know our trip took us down the southern part of Pakistan via Quetta and into Iran via Zahedan.
On arrival at the Iran border, which was about mid afternoon, again I go through the process with customs. As I sit down to work out how this would go the customs man provides the get out passage. His other customs mate requires a lift to the next little village some 30 or 40 kilometres away and I could I do him a big favour? I started by saying that I am not allowed to, the company does not permit it and the insurance company only allows me to carry the people listed on my passenger list. He pleads with me to take his mate so what could I do? I said that if he did not mention this to any other drivers I would help his mate but I would need to get going straight away. We have agreement and off we go. What was that familiar tinkling noise coming from the rear of the coach? The spring leafs seem to be getting looser.
On one of our night stops, I think it was in Shiraz, Chop might be able to verify exactly where, we stayed in some cabins located within a camping ground.
Chop has a good idea to tell the security man at the entrance that whiskey just may be available.
Just after we settle into our cabins Chop comes to me and asked me to entertain a local taxi driver while he brings in a bottle from the coach. We don’t want anyone to know just how many bottles we are carrying. One bottle sold.
Within a few minutes Chop does the entertaining for another taxi driver while I get the bottle.
Over the next hour or so we take it in turns to entertain and retrieve bottles in exchange for Rials.
I still have to wonder why we never saw a policeman after a line up of taxis from the entrance gate up to the coach. Now the boot of the coach had much more room but our wallets were full. Unfortunately with too many Rials, if that is possible. As much as we tried to off-load the local currency to pay for fuel, accommodation and lend money to the passengers we later exchanged the remainder for carpets, to be sold at a profit when we got back to London.
Did I say whiskey with a dash? Well we did dash through those 2 borders but it was more like whiskey with some cash.
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Vicar well told, mostly factual, I've still got my Isfahani carpet on the bedroom floor, the other one I kept for you, still hangs on my brothers wall in Coffs Harbour. I'll get it to you one day.
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Mr customs man at Paki border enjoyed high class literature.I used to leave a copy of Penthouse or Playboy lying on the front seat.Immigration was completed and my man hadn't moved past the front seat.
Generously ,I suggested he might like to keep the magazine.Customs search finished.
Akram used to maintain his clients included the Customs Minister.
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Well Vicar you have stirred my memory in regard to an profit making enterprise by myself.
I did my first overland with Garry Peterson an 1975 and we took a couple of bottles of Johnny Walker and sold them in Shiraz for a nice little profit.
Early 1976 I was on my way to Kathmandu and thought why take 2 bottles and make a few quid when you could make a nice little earner by taking a Dozen ,,,,,,,,,then thought why take only a dozen when I could fit 6 dozen in the back of the boot hidden by the luggage !!! Had a few contacts in Pakistan that were looking for booze.
Great idea ,,repack the bus during the crossing ,,,,, the punters were aware and I promised them a fantasic meal and plenty of booze on me once the deal wae done .
European border crossings were not a hassle BUT and there is always a but ...when we went into Greece from Yugoslavia the Customs guys found them ,,a couple of bottles would not buy them off ,,,after much hassle and drama customs decided to let me keep the lot BUT log the cargo in my passport to make sure I exported the lot .
Well I now had 6 dozen problems,,the last thing I wanted to do was take them all the way to Kathmandu and back . So a bit of lateral thinking ,,The answer ,,,get a new passport so off to the Aussie embassy found a very helpful female clerk ,,, turned on the Silver charm ,, spun a yarn about being on the Overland road and difficult to get to other embassy's to renew my passport,,,walked out with a new passport bonded to the old one .
So at the border ,,, remember they were seperated by a couple of hundred meters,,, cleared Greece after customs sighted and counted the booze . Drove 200m to Turkey ,, used my new passport ,, had one of the female punters flirt with the customs guys,, which worked and cruzed through .
Having managed to get away with no harm done so far decided not to push my luck. Thought better of taking them any further east I managed to sell the lot through Turkey before we entered Iran ,,, make a few quid , had a great piss up with the punters .
From then on decided just to take the small little earners ,,, like selling tins of instant coffee at the Wasaw Campgrounds,,,, toothpaste in Lenningrad ,,,, buying Roubles in Amsterdam 1 Pound = 6 roubles,,,,,spent it all ,,, came back to Aust with $200,,,,but plenty of great times and memories.
SILVER
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In another conversation Mike McDermott reminds me of my attempt at smuggling alcohol.
Capricon had a system where by the crew flew to Bangkok to meet the passengers, mainly to ensure that visas were correct for Iraq. Naturally it had other side benefits and the company agent was always most helpful with show tickets and transport.
On my first time I convinced all forty odd passengers to buy a bottle of Johnny Walker Red (for about US$5) and I promised to double that on arrival into Kathmandu (all heart I was).
In Kathmandu I loaded the 40 odd bottles carefully into non descript cartons and packed them into the back of the boot. Tempting as it was I managed to keep all hands off them and then we came to the Indian/Pakistan border near Lahore.
Now the customs man (big fat Ralph) was known to be lazy and I was banking on that, he came out to the bus and wanted all the luggage out, I went around and opened all the bins
and boot and I said “there you go Ralphy, don’t forget to put it all back when your finished”, being lazy he took my hand and we went back into the customs area to sign off on the paperwork.
We stayed at the International Hotel in Lahore (I think) and I made enquiries as who may be interested in some Johnny Walker and I ended up in the managers apartment where I sold the lot at US$50 per bottle and to celebrate we knocked off a few and I must have consumed my fair share as I was REALLY crook next day. During the snake show on the lawns I was being sick then dragged a couple of metres, sick again and dragged again etc. Phil drove the bus (I stayed on the lawn with my draggers) on the Town Tour of Lahore which was quite a feat, I had never seen him drive previously and I took “The Pledge” later that day.
On a later occasion English Mike and I headed out of the UK with a bus full and we got to Greece before Mike could bring himself to tell me that Mr Dick had sent a Golf Ball Typewriter for the Hotel in Amritsar. I was furious as we were taking a big risk at no profit. We kept it out of sight all the way until we arrived at the Lahore/India border and life became extremely problematical when the Indian customs man said to me “where is the typewriter”, I claimed complete ignorance which lead to a complete search of the bus, they didn’t find it and we proceed to the hotel. On arrival Mike leaned under his (front) seat and produced the typewriter.
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Simon, I have a confession to make: in all the years since, I don't think that I have ever been as drunk as I was that night.
I know that must be disappointing news, but there you go.
I even suspect that the same may be true for you, as you are still alive. When we came back from that tour and saw you still on the lawn in that baking sun, for a moment there we wondered if you could have survived.
As I recall (and large parts of that evening are missing from my memory the average consumption exceeded a bottle each, and we three had more than our fair share.
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Locked
