"NO, you listen to what I say!" It was the first time retired lecturer Adnan Abdullah blew a gasket as he tried to reason with our confused Pakistani guide, Raja Rizwan Rehmat Din.
After days of driving on modern highways and enjoying modern amenities at plush R&Rs, our five-member convoy in two vehicles was lost amidst meandering roads in places which did not appear on any map.
Adnan, 66, and his wife Hadibah Idris, 64, were travelling in their modified Ford Ranger 2.5 WLT Turbo, which was nicknamed Unta Kurus (lean camel), as part of their overland journey from Malaysia to Makkah to perform their haj. New Straits Times Press photographer Osman Adnan and I led the way in Rizwan's Suzuki Wagon car.
We were looking for an alternative route to a town called Dera Ismail Khan, but a security officer stopped us at a checkpoint on a bridge that crossed Pakistan's side of the Indus River.
The officer, with a thick moustache and soaking wet khaki-coloured uniform, said the route beyond the bridge was prohibited for foreign visitors.
"Some security officers were killed along that route last week," the officer told Adnan before asking the convoy to make a U-turn.
I think the encounter threw Rizwan off-kilter as he desperately tried to find an alternative route before nightfall.
We could not blame Rizwan, 28, an Islamabad native who spoke fluent Bahasa Malaysia after living in Malaysia for six years. Up to that point, he had never driven a bunch of foreigners deep into the interior of his home country.
Some regions in Pakistan require foreigners to obtain No Objection Certificate (NOC) from the police, and other than Adnan and Hadibah, who had permission from the Pakistani authorities to travel cross-country, Osman and I did not have any such documents.
To solve our predicament, we reported ourselves at the next police station and security personnel escorted us the entire night until we reached a safe zone.
"I later apologised to Rizwan for my temper. Pakistani authorities gave us a designated route, but I relented when Rizwan insisted on taking a short cut.
"But if we had not veered from our route, we wouldn't have witnessed such beauty," Adnan told me recently.
Indeed, the 900km route between Islamabad and Quetta, a city in Pakistan's eastern state of Balochistan, was a sight to behold.
Our able-bodied soldiers led the way in their trucks as we passed through high-altitude roads that cut through boulders on the Sulaiman range.
While Adnan and his Ford Ranger effortlessly withstood tough road conditions, Rizwan was equally skilled at driving his compact car through shallow streams and God-forsaken tracks in the wee hours.
The soldiers handed us over to different teams at every district until we reached an army check point high in the mountains at 3am. As dawn approached, Adnan asked the soldiers if we could stop to rest and perform Subuh prayers.
They obliged by letting us stay at an army camp at a town called Zhob, where we woke up to a breakfast of freshly-made naan and piping hot chai (milk tea).
When we reached a safe town, we hugged and thanked our security escorts before continuing our journey along a valley that commanded fantastic views of Pakistan's eastern mountains. It was amidst this dramatic landscape that Osman found the shot that was used for NST's front page.
But we had security escorts again when we reached Quetta, as foreigners could only move about in the city with a NOC.
Due to security reasons, foreigners could only stay at two hotels in Quetta. We spent the two nights making friends with police, hotel staff and the German and Turkish tourists at the same hotel.
We rode on police trucks with armed personnel to get to and from the police station where we did our travel permits. In the three days we were in Quetta, there was a massive traffic gridlock due to sit-in protesters blocking major thoroughfares. We had to ditch the police trucks and walk back to our hotel.
We got to know some of the policemen, including one who Osman said looked like Bradley Cooper, the American actor.
Following a couple en route to performing their haj is a blessing. Every time Adnan explained to a security officer about how important it was that he reach Makkah before the haj season began, people would help.
"Please pray for me, sir! May Allah bless you on your journey!" said the police officer to Adnan when he approved the NOC for both Osman and me.
It was easy to be taken in by Adnan's sense of adventure. Hadibah's soft-spoken, motherly nature complemented his steely resolve throughout their journey.
Though they could not drive Unta Kurus into Makkah due to Saudi Arabian law, they performed their haj by flying to Jeddah from Dubai, United Arab Emirates, after leaving their vehicle at a fellow Malaysian's house in Dubai.
I am glad they fulfilled the first part of their journey by performing the haj with a furada (private) haj visa.
The couple returned to Malaysia late last year to welcome their latest grandchild and have remained home due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Unta Kurus is now parked at the home of their eldest son, Syrrunafis, in Manchester, United Kingdom.
"We were supposed to fly back to the UK on Feb 29 to resume our journey, but our children advised us against it as the pandemic was just starting. So we stayed back," said Adnan, who spent the last few months documenting his journey on Instagram.
Not many could understand the reasons why Adnan and Hadibah chose to travel overland for the haj. However, their story proves that one can achieve amazing feats regardless of age.