Mountain Ride: A Journey Through Quiet Peaks

I stepped out of the old four-by-four that carried me up the final stretch of mountain road, snaking up the valley in an elegant dance with the stream that ran against us. The fresh mountain air enveloped me, and the wind carried my thoughts away, leaving me alone with a view of the vast plateau surrounded on all sides by mighty, snow-capped peaks. It felt like being at the bottom of a giant’s cereal bowl. I looked around for a sign of human movement, but all I saw was stillness. The mountains gazed back at me and responded with more howling wind. As I scanned my surroundings, I noticed my driver, who seemed to be enjoying this little stop, with his eyes closed and head tilted towards the sun, oddly resembling a sunflower with a turban. He must have sensed me looking at him, as he turned to me, and, without opening his eyes, gave me a shrug. Just as his shoulders dropped again, I saw a slender figure clad all in black emerge on a ridge behind him. He effortlessly descended the lumpy rocks and dirt, letting gravity do most of the work for him, his long kameez billowing in the wind. This made his approach look all the more ominous.

All I could see under his head scarf was a pair of piercing dark eyes beneath thick but purposefully shaped eyebrows. He stood close as he looked me up and down, and, without uttering any words, he took one of my bags from the four-by-four and made his way back towards the hill. In a moment when I felt lost, it was nice to meet someone who seemed to know who I was and where I was going. The man in black was making short work of the hill – which to me had started feeling a lot steeper than it looked. He would occasionally stop and observe my laboured progress as I had to stop every few steps to gulp in some more of the thin air. The altitude was already taking effect, and my decision to ascend the entire route in one day now seemed a foolish one. Even the players who live in the valleys nearby would come up to Shandur a week early and partake in days of practice games. Not so much to brush up on their swinging skills, but to prepare themselves and the horses for extended periods of high-intensity exercise at an altitude of 3,800m.