Around midday we left Shigar for Khaplu. We were sad to leave Shigar. Not only was it a peaceful and pretty location but it was our first taste of really good accommodation since we had been in Pakistan. In fact it would have been one of the nicest hotels we had stayed in so far during our several trips to the country. We would highly recommend the Shigar Fort Residence to any travellers.

Our trip from Shigar involved heading south along the Shigar River for some 35 kilometers almost back to Skardu where we headed east at the junction of the Indus and Shyok Rivers, before travelling alongside the Shyok for about 100 kilometers to Khaplu. The area around this junction has a fascinating history being once the largest and richest of Baltistan's ancient kingdoms.

Perhaps the time of day and the different light made the scenery back toward Skardu look far more interesting than on the way to Shigar. The valleys around Skardu are hugely broad, creating an illusion that the rivers are almost stopped from flowing. Enormous gravel river flats fringe the waterways that sleepily flow through the steep scree slopes of the surrounding jagged mountains. Again it was an eerie sensation. You could almost be on another planet.

At one stage we crossed a broad dry river bed by several kilometers of sealed road. There was virtually no vegetation and not surprisingly the area is well known for its ferocious wind and dust storms. The Skardu area is often cut off from travel for extended periods of time due to snow and freezing winter weather. Despite its fascinating rock structures and undeniable rugged beauty, it would be hard to imagine a more forbidding setting.

The steely grey Shyok River flowed through the most unstable looking scree covered, arid mountains of the Khaplu Valley. The road was once the old trading route to Ladakh, now on the opposite side of the Pakistan-Indian Line of Control and where we were to visit by an extraordinarily complex route via Lahore and Delhi within the coming days. It seemed so crazy to be so close yet so far away. It would take us three day's full travel reach the Indian Province of Jammu Kashmir, a mere stone's throw from where we were at Kaphlu.

Strangely there were few motor vehicles on our way, although any we came across were fully laden, often with a passenger clinging precariously to the back of the vehicle. A common sight in Pakistan.

After the village of Gol, the arid Khaplu Valley scenery changed abruptly into an attractive oasis of barley and wheat terraces and fruit trees. Extensive golden barley crops were ripe and due for harvesting. Villages looked more prosperous and the scenery was in stark contrast to what we had witnessed throughout the Skardu area. Khaja kindly stopped several times for me to take photos of the barley crops, although he looked rather surprised that I found them so interesting.

In the distance we could catch the occasional glimpse of the huge snow capped peaks of thee famous Masherbrum Ranges, the highest peak of Mount Masherbrum being 7,821 meters. It was the most pictureseque setting.

We arrived at Khaplu late in the afternoon, to be greeted at our Khaplu Palace and Residence hotel by much festivity. It was an extraordinary scene. Many men, brightly clad in local native costumes danced energetically in groups, chanting wildly and accompanied by loud horns and thumping drums. Our hearts sank. It seemed to us that it may be a special cultural show for tourists - something that we both detest. http://youtu.be/oRKImeLEcks

The festivities were however part of a performance especially organised for several politicians, visiting dignitaries and government officials. Apparently, their visit was to announce a generous donation to the local community and so no wonder everyone looked so happy. And when we looked closely there were police, soldiers, security guards and "minders" everywhere. Like most of Pakistan's rural regions there was not a woman to be seen amongst the large crowd - except for me.

Sadruddin seemed delighted that we had come across this local celebration quite by chance. Despite the interesting entertainment, we did not quite share his enthusiasm. Our Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) always advises that when you are in a foreign country (especially one with Pakistan's reputation), you NEVER, EVER get involved with a political event of ANY description. In fact its advice for travel to most of Pakistan is "Reconsider Your Need to Travel" or even worse "Do Not Travel".

We tried to keep well back from the event but it was impossible to avoid the huge crowds that gathered to watch the performance. In fact, we were well in the middle of everything and the crowds were getting bigger and more excited by the minute, chanting and cheering wildly. Alan looked across at me shaking his head with that "what on earth are we doing here?" look.

And suddenly the music, dancing, chanting and roaring of the crowd stopped. The politicians and dignitaries had arrived. And so had more armed guards and some pretty hefty looking "minders" (see profile of "minder man" in the green t-shirt in the photo of the Deputy Commissioner). Media hovered around the Important Ones like bees to a honey pot.

The Deputy Commissioner stepped forward. He was an astonishing looking man. Probably in his late thirties, he was extraordinarily well groomed with greased flick back black hair, a stylish moustache and impeccably dressed in a Harrods style grey suit. Very self conscious of his appearance, he frequently adjusted his tie and smoothed out his suit which flowed over his body like reptile skin. He addressed the crowd, then the Commissioner and more dignitaries gave speeches apparently informing the locals of the donation to their region. The crowd roared with applause, chanting "DC, DC, DC... (Deputy Commissioner)". Apparently the Deputy Commissioner wields the political power and the Commissioner is more like a figurehead. And the crowd obviously knew it. It was very exciting.

The speeches stopped and the crowd rapidly dissipated. Sadruddin grabbed our arms, grinning madly and informing us that we had to HURRY. The official polo match for the politicians was about to begin and we had to get there quickly. He did however qualify his insistence with the comment "Stay back from the crowds. Don't get too close to the politicians. "If a 'boom boom' goes off then you will go with it too". Thanks for the warning Sadruddin.

Neither Alan nor I had even time to talk to each other as we were hurried down the road to the Kaphlu polo grounds. And neither of us wanted to see a polo match, not only for safety reasons but also that we knew that the ponies often break their legs during these ferocious battles. Leading the way and insisting that we move faster was Abbas Ali Khan, Sadruddin's friend and Manager of the Kaphlu Palace and Residence.

At the entrance to the polo grounds I was suddenly grabbed by the arm by a rifle wielding soldier. Almost lifted off my feet, I struggled to keep up with him. I lost sight of Alan and Sadruddin and thought to myself "shit, this is it...". Well, it wasn't of course as I'm still here to tell the story. The soldier was just hurrying me up on his escort of us to the polo stadium so that we could get the good seats. Something we found out later had been organised by Abbas who, to my relief, soon turned up with Alan and Sadruddin.

Our seats turned out to be so good that we actually were seated in the Important Persons' Bay right behind the Deputy Commissioner and his Chief of Police, the mere Mir (King) of the Khaplu Region and other dignitaries. A number of fearsome looking, heavily armed policemen occupied our seats but our soldier friend scolded them and moved them to seats further back. They didn't look too pleased either. "Oh, bloody wonderful - how on earth could this happen?" I remember Alan saying but we did have a giggle when we reminded each other of the DFAT line of "NEVER, EVER get involved in a political event when you are travelling overseas". We were totally out of control and we knew it. And despite our humour, we were feeling very, very vulnerable.

The polo ground was jam packed with spectators and the noise was deafening. Fire engines flew around the grounds at an amazing pace firing water onto the dusty surface and at anyone who dared to be in their way. It was all quite chaotic.

Adding to the chaos was a group of very angry young men who appeared on the polo grounds in front of the officials. Apparently they were disputing the results of the previous soccer match and they were highly agitated. Angry arguments with the officials went on for some time before the debonair Deputy Commissioner (DC) finally took control and addressed the increasing crowd. He was however far from debonair as he angrily chastised them, his face turning like night and day from a charming smile to a deadly black glare. Of course we had no idea of what he said but it worked and the crowd dissipated. We were amazed.

The DC returned back to his seat in Charming Mode, even turning around and offering us some very nice nibbles and samosas.

The polo match began with much fan fare - more dancing and more music. The polo players, a red team and a green team, lined up to be addressed by the officials and the game was on - fast and furious. Apparently there are no rules in these games and it was just a bit noticeable. Polo sticks were hurtled in all directions, one player even losing the end of his stick as he hit the ground so hard. Pushing shoving was not ruled out either but thanks to the agility of the ponies they seemed to escape from too much harm.

I particularly took a liking to the head player of the red team. His horse did not wear a martingale (head strap to hold the horses' heads down) like the other ponies and the rider was kind, calm and relaxed, as was his fine horse. I was fascinated with the breed of the ponies. They looked to me like English Thoroughbred - Arab (Anglo Arab) crosses. And all of them had the most curious large curved ears. I was also happy to see that they looked in fine condition and that we did not witness any injuries or broken legs.

The teams put on a ferocious battle and at the end of the first chukka we were pleased to see the red team was in front.

Half time was punctuated by a tug of war. It was no laughing matter. These guys were deadly serious. The Department of Public Works comprised one team and the Police Department the other. Needless to say, it was hardly a level playing ground. Police guards surrounded the teams savagely wielding their batons if anyone came near or stepped out of line. Try as they might, grunting and heaving, Public Works had no chance as every time they made any ground the police would just add more team members. Abbas was so agitated wanting Public Works to win that he was leaning all over Sadruddin in an attempt to egg the team on. And guess who won? No surprises here that the winning team was the police. The crowd went mad and again it was all very unnervingly chaotic. http://youtu.be/APuuwPlfAVo and http://youtu.be/iTN_PSobwVQ

I saw a tall media representative and his camera team head toward the DC to do a television interview with him and some of the other dignitaries. "God", I thought " We are obviously the only foreigners - I hope they don't want to interview us". They did of course. Alan was asked bluntly "What do you think of the insurrection in Gilgit Baltistan?" Alan, like any politician carried on with some very flattering statements about Pakistan in general, leaving the media guy looking quite confused. He then turn the microphone to me and asked "I hear you had trouble with your flights being sold from underneath you (by the officials) and you had a lot of trouble coming to Khaplu?" I did much the same as Alan feeling a bit like a lunatic in not directly answering his question as to be quite honest I did not really know the reason for our flight cancellation and was concerned about making any negative comments about the Pakistan government. I know our friends were disappointed but we firmly believed that when you are in a foreign country, especially one like Pakistan, that making any comments that may have appeared to be critical of the Government could be lethal. We think this was just as well as we later found our that we had been interviewed by no other than Pakistan National Television!

The second chukka was even more furious than the first. It was an exciting finish with the green team winning by just a few points right at the end of the match.

And then there was an absolute riot as the green team was handed their silver cup. Crowds stormed the grounds, mobbing the riders and fighting madly amongst themselves. The police didn't hesitate to move in and there was a fearsome battle of baton wielding police, punching rioters, with the horses and riders all mixed up in it. Dust from the chaos choked the air and almost obliterated our view of the rioters. It was so out of control that at any other time it could have looked amusing. To be honest, we couldn't quite believe what we were seeing.

Eventually the crowd dissipated and apres festivities began. After the serious rioting a staged act of a snow leopard hunting some men dressed as Ibex was pretty boring. At least no-one was being beaten up. And there was more music and dancing.

Suddenly, Sadruddin said "Come quickly, we need to go. Keep close to me". Again we had no idea of what was going on but obediently followed him as he and Abbas hurried us, pushing and shoving through an unimpressed crowd to a rear entrance to leave the polo stadium. We assumed this was to avoid the crowds but we really didn't know what the urgency was about. We still don't and we didn't bother asking. We have found there are many unexplained events and rapid changes of plans during our trips to Pakistan....

We were pleased to return to our lovely and now peaceful Khaplu Palace and Residence Hotel. The hotel was a bit like Shigar Fort Residence, clean and well appointed. Late in the evening we enjoyed a delicious evening meal with Sadruddin and Abbas outside the hotel restaurant on the lawns of the Fort.

After our meal we shook our heads, as the day's events seemed almost surreal. It was a very peaceful finish to what had been a most extraordinarily exciting day but one of the real highlights of our travels in Pakistan.