Standing on top of the Karakoram mountains for the first time at about 15,000 feet, looking out at what could only be described as a moonscape, miles of undulating snowfields ahead of me, pin-drop silence all around, I felt my heart pounding in my chest. It was the first time since discovering that I would have the opportunity to ski the highest mountain range in the world that I asked myself the question, "What the hell am I doing here?" It was a bit late for second thoughts, however, as the army helicopter that had dropped me off on top of the ridge was out of sight and there was now only one way down... On the two skis attached to my boots.
Two months earlier I had found out that the company I had recently joined, Walkabout Films, was not only active in the field of exceptional wildlife documentary filmmaking; they also organized events based on extreme sports. The CEO of Walkabout Films, Nisar Malik, is an extreme sports enthusiast: he is a former international rower, an expert windsurfer and an accomplished deep-sea diver. One of the first adventure films to come out of Pakistan was one he made for National Geographic called 'Surfing the Northern Frontier,' in which he windsurfed the three highest (freezing cold!) lakes of Pakistan for a program called 'Adventure Challenge.' So he had conceived of this skiing event several years before, and I just latched on to the opportunity and cajoled, wheedled and manipulated my heart out until he finally realized that there was no way of stopping me, short of chaining me to a large tree in Islamabad while they took off for Skardu.
This event was organized by Walkabout Films in partnership with ISPR (Inter Services Public Relations), so the Army also had to be on board with taking a woman along. I have to say that both Nisar and the ISPR could not have been more supportive. Once they realized I was serious about joining the team of crack international heli-skiers, and that I did indeed have 30 years of skiing experience, they went out of their way to facilitate my participation. Although I am sure they all collectively thought I was mad, they never voiced it and never made me feel anything less than a full and valued member of the ski team.

We had a super-impressive army escort to take us from the airport to the Shangrila Resort (where we stayed courtesy of the owner, Arif Aslam Khan), with two jeep loads of highly armed and smart soldiers. They had been assigned to accompany us at all times and even to guard our cabins at night! I'm not sure that such a high level of security was needed as the people in Skardu, especially the locals, were so friendly, but at the end of the day, in the current climate, I can appreciate the Army's tendency to err on the side of caution and we greatly appreciated their efforts on our behalf.
The skiing kicked off the next day with a trip to the 5 Aviation Squadron Airbase from where we boarded the Mi17, a big helicopter used to ferry us to a location at the base of the mountains. The army pilots, on seeing me jump into their helicopters, asked me how I came to know Urdu. They assumed only a foreign woman would be nuts enough to do this and were shocked to find out that I was a Pakistani.

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