I again walked through the border area. The guards smiled knowingly at me and asked where my mare was. I replied she was safe and by the time I had reached customs check, most of the customs staff a Wagah border had come to see the “horseman.” I finally fought off their assault of questions and hired a porter to carry my bags across the 1.5 km international line of control. I felt a stab of anger each time somebody talked about her repeatedly wishing I had been able to take her through the first time. Initially three porters wanted to carry my bags through but now it was just me and the one guy.

Drab buildings lined the road as we hiked our way towards Pakistan. After collecting a white baggage ticket I started up the road. It’s almost like the line of Control is intersected by a porter highway. In the left lane a continuing line of Indian porters transporting goods from Pakistan to India and in the right lane is the Pakistan one. I tended to break the Highway Code and walked down the middle with my porter tagging along behind.

As we neared the border the Pakistan gate loomed large overhead. It’s an exhilarating feeling being able to almost touch another country and know you’ll be there soon.

I gave my baggage tag to the waiting Indian guard and with a quick nod of his head I strode under the archway into Pakistan.

Pakistan

Everybody was happy to see me and I felt like I was coming home to family. ActionAid weren’t present as I wasn’t able to reach them by phone form India but wearing their t-shirt I gave a brief interview to the journalists about my mission in Pakistan and the people who had personally greeted me (including the Brooke). Through all the talking I had almost forgotten when Moeen asked, “shall we go and see the horses?”

We walked over to two beautiful ‘deshi’ horses, one chestnut and the other albino pawing the ground in a far corner of the border complex. They were the property of Mustaffa, an eagle eyed business man who lived next to one of Brooke’s horse clinics in Lahore. He was a lean and wiry man with a big love for horses and he’d kindly agreed to lead Brooke two horses for the afternoon.

Putting all my gear in Ayza’s car, I mounted up on the chestnut using the polo saddle that Col. Moeen had provided to save time. The plan was to just ride from the border to Brooke’s clinic on the outskirts of Lahore 18kms away since it was already 1430pm. I’ll begin my journey again from that clinic when I leave Lahore for Islamabad in several weeks time.

Col Moeen left first, followed by Ayza and her family. Mustaffa and I then trotted off up the Pakistani GT road towards Lahore with the Geo TV crew in the car in front filming us.

Geo bounced along with us for the whole trip to the clinic. This section of GT road certainly wasn’t as developed as it’s Indian counterpart but it was much nicer to ride a horse along. The katcha road (or dirt road) cut a large swathe on either side of the Pucca one to allow animal driven vehicles to travel along. Although the people appear the same, Pakistan seems more rural than the industrial Punjab just over the border. Mosques dominate the landscape and people are perhaps a little more genuine. The sun gradually set next to the hazy spire of a lonely mosque as we pulled in for tea and biscuits at the road-side. We watered both horses first and gulped down chai before pressing onto the clinic. My body had gotten used to the comfort of a Western saddle since my backside was killing by the time we reached the beginnings of outer Lahore.

My horse was called ‘Badel’ which means cloud in Urdu - this didn’t quite make sense considering the horse was a chestnut. He was more of a polo pony than a riding horse and to be honest, although he was nice, he wasn’t a patch on Rosie. We finally reached the clinic after dark and my first impression was of a professional well-run organisation where rows of horses lined two walls around a well-maintained manger. It’s commitment to the people of Pakistan is self-evident. This was all for free. (See Brooke article here)

And now a word on Ayza Omar, who originally emailed me three month ago. Ayza and her family helped organise a horse for me when I didn’t arrive in Pakistan. Then she coordinated with Col. Moeen to help arrange another horse and meet with Geo TV. Thanks again Ayza.

Brooke had arranged a buffet dinner for us at their clinic and I finally had the chance to sit and talk face-to-face with the people whom I’d been ringing and emailing these past three months. I intend to stay in Lahore for the next few weeks at least. It’ll give me time to arrange two new horses, make arrangements and rest before Christmas. The following morning Brooke collected me from the hotel. The hospitality of everybody I’ve met so far has been wonderful and I can’t wait to get to now this new country.

I saw a brief presentation of Brooke’s work in Pakistan before they took me to look at horses at Lahore’s main trading centre near Delhi gate. The stables had a musty smell of straw and silage and even though they were small, the traders still managed to prance their horses in front of an excited crowd. Delhi gate trading centre is one of the biggest horse markets in Pakistan after Peshawar. If any horses, donkeys or mules aren’t sold at Peshawar on Friday, they are usually brought to be sold here on Sunday.

The horse traders are a fast thinking, quick talking bunch who treat equines as a commodity. This was my first insight into their world. We had a brief look at one or two horses, but they were either too high spirited or had something wrong. The stables were filled with the raucous shouts of the traders egging on the buyers amid the nervous whinnying horses parading in front.

Unfortunately the two horses that Col. Moeen had scoped out earlier had already been sold. Horses often come and go so I’ll be making a few trips to the horse markets in the future.

Lahore has a cosmopolitan feel to it. I enjoy its flashing commercialism that belies a vibrant, pulsating culture underneath. All the hoardings and advertisements out of Lahore are in Urdu but in Lahore it’s all in English. Most Pakistani’s wear the national dress of Shalwar Kameez, which is a like a long shirt which hangs down over loose fitting cotton trousers tied at the waste. It’s actually really comfortable to wear and it was the first thing I bought in Lahore - although it took a long time to find the right one.

Ayza’s mother invited us all over for a big banquet that night. Despite her modest “it’s nothing” remark, she’d really done to town. There were most popular Pakistani dishes and salad, pasta etc.. on the table. It was more like a feast. The Pakistani’s truly know how to put on the hospitality. Nadira had invited everyone present at the border yesterday and a few other faces incl. Mr. Arif Rasheed, the head of Lahore Race Club.

I plan to say in Lahore until at least early January. The Indian section of my ride is over and the next one into the more difficult terrain of the Himalayas needs organising. I need to secure new horses and equipment and I am looking forward to several weeks rest over Christmas and New Year. All in all I am glad to be in Pakistan and I’m looking forward to discovering more.