31st
August
It must be more than 35 years since I
trekked with my brother, (in Tasmania we call it bushwalking) however, it
seemed a good idea to both of us that we should do this when he visited me
earlier this month.
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| Fungi abounded in the forests |
Treking together, and the actual route
taken, was partly a result of trying to fit everything Bruce wanted to do into
a very short time span and partly the result of a suggestion of friend “Mr
Piet” who is undertaking contract work for Trashiyangtse Dzonghag in relation
to tourism development.
Anyway, it was resolved that I should try and
organise us to do the “Far Out East Bhutan Trek”. Piet suggested that I should talk with the Gup, the village
senior public servant, who had previously indicated that he had access to
guides and trek crew.
Perhaps I should point out that, despite
the existence of a rather nice brochure about the trek, as an option for visitors
it’s more of a concept than a reality.
In due course I managed to meet with the
Gup, and was delighted to be accorded the formal bow as greeting. After some discussion, I believed that
all was settled and he would organise a guide and a porter, a Bolero (preferred
brand of 4 wheel drive vehicle) to transport us to the commencement of our
trek, our homestay accommodation in Omba, and accommodation in a “cowshed” on
Shangphula peak, along with packed lunches as required.
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| Trails through the mist |
The cowshed concept was a little
alarming. I interpreted that this
may be the cow herder’s summer quarters but it does not always pay to make
assumptions in Bhutan…. We could be in for a somewhat biblical experience.
A couple of emails back and forth with Piet
confirmed that we would not be spreading our sleeping bags on an earth floor,
there was a higher level. A small
sigh of relief, but I did purchase a couple of the polythene “carpets” to use
as groundsheets under the closed cell foam sleeping mats which I would borrow
from the school.
Email correspondence also confirmed that my
anticipated 3 days for the full trek was over-ambitious and we would need to
cut out one part. I decided that the
temple at Gongza could be forfeited in favour of watching sunset over Bhutan
and sunrise over India from Shangphula peak. The highest point of this peak sits right on the boarder.
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| Zangthokperi Goempa |
Encountering the Gup on the village road a
couple of weeks later and his question “Is your brother
coming to visit?”
generated some anxiety about the extent of organization of our trek and I
decided another meeting was highly desirable.
Not always easy to organise.
I was finally able to confirm again that
yes, my brother was coming and yes, we still wanted to do the trek and after
some slightly assertive requests on my part I was able to get an idea of costs. “we give what we think” for homestay accommodation was not
something that sat easily with me – I had no idea of a ball park figure, so
politely requested some real guidance on the matter.
The couple of days before departure was
quite amusing in class. The
homestay in Omba is operated by the mother of one of my least academic and
cooperative students. However, a
comment (positive of course) about
an improvement in his helpfulness as being commensurate with someone who knew I
would be spending a night in his mother’s house in the very near future
elicited a complete personality change and a very contrite apology for all past
behaviours. A reminder now that I
do have his mother’s phone number saved in my phone restores his level of
application to task. We won’t
mention that there is no shared language for communication…
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| Darchen Ney |
The morning of our departure for the trek was actually quite
clear, given that we’d had 2-3 days’ of heavy rain, but the Gup came out to
meet us and suggested that we might want to cancel because the weather was bad. No. We both were keen to go, so off we headed for Tsenkharla,
our departure point, with our guide Rinchen and our porter, Tashi . We got the
distinct impression that our accommodation would be organized subsequent to our
departure from Kheni.
I should mention at this point that Kheni
is higher above sea level than most of Tasmania, and my brother lives right at
sea level. I should also mention
that Kheni is averaging maximum temperature around 30 degrees centigrade on a
daily basis and Bruce has come from the southern hemisphere winter in Tasmania - 4 degrees centigrade when he left - a
couple of challenges for him for some of the uphill stints.
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| Some rivers had bridges |
I have previously hiked from Tsenkharla to
Shakshing and enjoyed the stunning panoramic views of 3 valleys from the narrow
ridge, but we were destined to walk this in the mist, which in itself was a
very atmospheric experience. Parts
of the forest feel very ancient and sometimes a single tree is a complete
ecosystem in itself. Many of the
trees had Spanish moss draped from their branches and fungi were plentiful.
Bruce had previously wished for sunshine, but I had warned
him to be careful what he wished for….. hiking in sunshine in this climate
would be very uncomfortable.
We visited the gorgeous little Goempa (temple) at Zangthokperi, were treated to
an extensive and informative talk about Tantric Buddhism and local history at
Shakshing Goempa (Tantric Buddhism I learned, was the quickest but most
dangerous path to enlightenment as it is very easy to fall from the right
path. I am reminded of the line
from one of the songs from les Miserables ‘and
if they fall, as Lucifer fell…” and finally we ascended to our highest
point of the day at Darchen, 950m above our starting point at Tsenkharla.
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Some bridges were best crossed one person
at a time |
While still very warm at that altitude, it
was also still misty. Bruce
maintained the mist was simply evaporation from him and I will say that I
thought there was incense being burned behind him until I realized it was steam
from his back!
Darchen had the feel of being much older
than Shakshing, although history says they were built by the same person, and
is certainly not as recently renovated.
It is considered the more sacred of the Goempas in that area and it is
certainly very atmospheric and is associated with a ney – groups of sacred
stones, which we were shown – prayer books, fish … located a small distance
from the Goempa. A new cloak had
been procured for the statue of Buddha and we were fortunate enough to each be
given a strip from the old coat, properly blessed, and tied onto our wrists.
Lunch was eaten sitting in the Goempa, this
being about the only dry spot. As
noone had thought to bring spoons for us, our curry and rice was eaten local
style – with our hands.
After lunch our descent of 830m commenced
(plus some additional ups and downs) and the cloud cleared a little to give
occasional views, which increased as the day progressed. Our descent took us down muddy tracks
and small creeks, through open meadow and beautiful forest, through gardens of
maize (sweet corn) which was more than double our height and fields of chillies
and past numerous small villages.
At one stage we had glimpses of Golden Langur in the trees.
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Images in the rocks at Omba: Nepali and
Bhutanese Chorten |
We crossed what seemed to be a very recent
landlide – with bated breath, small rivers which once had bridges but these had
been washed away by flood, bridges that suggested that one person at a time
would be a good idea (and stay over the lengthwise beam for a little extra
safety) and then came across a group of villagers and monks apparently having a
picnic. They were, it transpired,
carrying new prayer books to their village, the prayer books having first been
blessed by the Dalai Lama. They
offered us tea, but I declined as it was already getting late and I was
uncertain as to the accuracy of estimates of time to destination – since this
had already been vary varied since leaving Darchen.
We proceeded ahead of the prayer book
party, but they soon caught up with us.
Used to the terrain, the altitude and carrying heavy load, these people
far outstripped our pace. We stood
by the side of the path to allow them to pass with the prayer books,
respectfully bowing and covering our mouths as instructed by our guide, in the
presence of such holy items. I did
note that the tea ladies brought up the rear.
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The caretaker points out the sacred letters "OM" (in Dzonkha)
From which Omba gets its name |
Our hostess for the evening was amongst
this party so I was more than happy for her to be going on ahead. However, as it transpired, she needed
to attend to her hospitality duties with the monks before attending to our
dinner.
The homestay at Omba was basic, but less
basic than I anticipated. It had a
western toilet and a shower (albeit cold) as is required for registration of a
homestay. We were provided with
naja (sugar tea) and zao and I introduced Bruce to the concept of adding this
roasted rice to tea. The shower
was most refreshing, although the presence of 2 large black spiders had me wary
for the duration.
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Omba Goempa
and the statue of Guru Rinpoche |
Although dinner was slow in coming,
alternate sustenance was not and we were provided with plates of new season
fresh apple, cucumber (I should
mention the cucumber are humongous) and peaches and more tea. Ara (local “wine” – albeit distilled!)
was also offered and I accepted, as I thought Bruce should try this, and I have
developed a bit of a taste for it.
Served warm with egg or butter stirred through there is some sustenance
to what at times seems to be pure spirit.
Our host joined us for a while and our
guide Rinchen translated questions and answers, and also commenced his quest to
talk us out of the cowshed experience planned for the following evening,
interpreted questions and answers.
We asked about the number of visitors to
Omba. Omba is one of Bhutan’ most
sacred sites and is designated as the Takshang of the East. The village itself is pretty, sitting
on a somewhat flat area on a steep hillside, but the Goempa and ney (sacred
stones) are a little higher,
perched on a cliff, with a statue of Guru Rinpoche (who is credited with
having brought Buddhism to Bhutan and is to Buddhists in Bhutan what Jesus is
to Christians) sitting higher still on the cliff above the Goempa. We were told that Omba gets quite a few
visitors. 9 last year.
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| Bruce's selfie with sister |
We both declined the offer of additional
blankets. My sleeping bag was
purchased on the basis that I never ever wanted to be cold in a sleeping bag
again, and I was told that the next model was suitable for snow camping,
without a tent. I rarely zip it
up. Bruce had a sleeping bag
kindly lent by one of the government officers in the village. The additional altitude of Omba which
made it a little cooler than Kheni, plus the exercise of the best part of a
20km walk with 950m plus of ascent and 830m plus of descent was enough to ensure
a good night’s sleep.
We departed Omba after a good breakfast and
acceptance of gifts of fruit, ara and cornflakes and headed for Omba ney and
Goempa. I had previously visited
the Goempa but not the ney, and in this very special and sacred place, the cave
where Guru Rinpoche had meditated, we lit butter lamps with thoughts of those
no longer with us; quite an emotional experience.
The caretaker led us along the path past
further sacred stones and springs – from which we took the small amount of
water to sip as a blessing (this water is quality tested regularly – I have met
the person responsible) to the path to the Goempa but she suggested it was too
steep and slippery. I countered
with the suggestion that we start and turn back if we felt unsafe. We reached the Goempa, which is tiny,
but lovely with its bas-relief carvings behind the statues, and duly made our
prostrations and offerings and received a blessing, as we had done in all the
other Goempas.
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| Just another beautiful stream |
Bruce and I then had a private little
ritual of our own, in memory of Mum, before descending back to the main
path. I had asked about ascending
to the statue of Guru Rinpoche, but the caretaker said the path was way too
slippery – given my previous experience of this when visiting with the students
in the dry in February (be careful madam!) I accepted her assessment. I certainly had no intention of
suggesting Bruce attempt some of the crawling through confined spaces to earn
merit. These were interesting
enough when it was dry.
The path to the peak of Shangphula took us
through the tiny village of Phetki, from where we could look down on Omba
village and across to the Goempa. From there we headed variously on paths through parts of the forest, and off
paths, towards the peak. It
transpired our guide had not ascended Shangphula before from this direction….
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| Our porter puts his load to good use |
It was getting towards lunch time and we
were told that we would have lunch at a cow shed. Both Bruce and I were finding it hard going, as we were
ascending largely straight up the slope, with no noticeable trail to follow,
and the vegetation was more low scrub than alpine meadow. We opted for snacks rather than sitting
to curry and rice in the start of a shower of rain.
We passed what was described to us as a
cowshed, but I suggested this was not the cowshed as described by Piet, as it
was a very temporary structure of blue tarpaulin and poles.
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| Struggling towards the summit without a path |
In due course we reached the ridge and
admired some good views of India but somewhat more cloudy views on the Bhutan
side. There were, however, hint of
ranges behind ranges beyond Darchen – all increasing in altitude.
We found a somewhat sheltered place to sit
and eat and after rescuing a discarded disposable plate from the shrubbery,
Bruce and I set off for the actual peak which was 5-10 minutes away.
At this stage, there was assorted
discussion about another cowshed, maybe an hour or two away, (in the wrong
direction) and below us in the forest.
And requiring us to walk across the Indian border. And the cowshed was small, too small
for the 4 of us. This was merely
the ongoing conversation about it not being very nice, not very clean, and
maybe we should go to Jangphutse for the night.
From the peak, we could see the roof of a
small building, maybe 5-10 minutes away, but were told this belonged to Indian
herders and was not the building.
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| Alpine meadows from Shangphula peak |
We spent a while on the peak, admiring the
views and taking photographs and Bruce and I discussed our options, one of
which seemed to be spending ages not finding anywhere to sleep for the night,
maybe inadvertently wandering across the border – potentially risky despite
there being noone around, and then having insufficient time to get to
Jangphutse in the light, so I finally said we could go to Jangphutse. We could recognize when we were beat! Clearly we were not going to sleep
anywhere we could see the sun rise over India and the sun set over Bhutan. Shame. That idea really appealed. Maybe another time.
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Friendly relations across borders!
Bruce is standing in India, I am in Bhutan |
The descent to Jangphutse was a little gentler
than our ascent had been, but slippery in places. It took us through some nice pasture and lovely forest. I
called a stop at one point and we found somewhere to sit and our guide
immediately pounced upon the fungus growing beside Bruce, then commenced to
collect a good quantity of this comestible. Bruce and I contented ourselves with photographing various
other fungi; our porter Tashi had become quite a fungi spotter! They also found for us fresh tiger
scratchings. It really brought
home to us that we were in the environment of this shy and rare creature.
We continued our descent and eventually
were in earshot of the village and the sounds of horns, drums and
chanting: a rimdru was in progress
in honour of the arrival of the sacred prayer books. The Lhakhang was under reconstruction so the rituals were
taking place in a tent erected for the purpose.
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| Just another gorgeous fungi |
We entered the village, I was greeted by a
couple of my students who had been given leave to come home for this auspicious
occasion, and visited the site of the Rimdru, and although we declined the
offer of naja, cups were thrust into our hands and the hot, sweet tea was
welcome. One of my students,
a really low ability class 7 girl, looked absolutely tickled pink that I was in
her village and she was able to show me her brothers and sisters and point out
her other various relatives. She
is a child I have described to my colleagues as “unfortunate looking” but a
couple of weeks later she had her fringe braided to keep it out of her eyes and
her hair was tied back and I exclaimed to her, very genuinely, that she has a
very pretty shaped face that looks lovely with her hair back off it.
Eventually we descended further through the
village to our accommodation for the evening. The school had previously been offered to me as an
accommodation possibility, (visitors to Kheni LSS are often bunked in the table
tennis room – mattresses on the floor and some blankets may be found) but I had
told Rinchen that he needed to contact the Gup about our changed plans, and
although the Gup had told me we would stay in the BHU (basic health unit), we
were taken to a private house. I
was initially a bit miffed, largely because access to the toilet was hazardous
and I fell over in the mud, plus there was no water supply running at that
point in time. The one plus I had
been looking forward to in Jangphutse was being able to strip off muddy and
sweaty clothing and tip cold water over myself.
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Hints of peaks from Jangphutse -
peaks I cannot see from Kheni |
I had already ascertained that the shop
would be open and sold beer “I think Mr Bruce would like some beer” so Tashi
was given money and sent to buy a couple of bottles; a glass of that plus a bowl of roasted sweetcorn started to
put a much more pleasant perspective on matters, despite our disheveled appearance,
and in due course I was told that a bucket of water had been put down in the
toilet for me to wash.
The
major hazards to access to the toilet
(pointed planks at eye level) had been moved aside.
As dinner was being prepared, our
host’s father shared our beer and talked with us via our guide, his English and
my Dzonkha being restricted respectively to half a dozen words.
So we had walked 14Km, ascended 1125m,
descended 900m plus the up and down to get to Omba Goempa. Not a bad effort.
Dinner included plain boiled eggs, but some
of the nicest we’d had in a long time.
Most households had their own henhouses, so freshness was assured.
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| Staff and students of Jangphutse school |
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| Wending our way through rice paddies |
Views in the morning from the window
afforded views with hints of high mountains further into Bhutan – peaks I cannot
see from Kheni.
It rained overnight, which would have added
an enormous hazard to the already steep and slippery descent which we had
already made. So that was a bonus
from our decision to abandon the night on the peak. As was the opportunity for Bruce to stay in a private house
in a remote village. And the
opportunity to be at the village school for morning assembly.
Jangphutse primary school has a very small
enrolment, around 40, and we were subsequently told that we were the first
overseas visitors to the school.
It was a privilege to attend their assembly and for me to hear their
variation to the morning prayer and anthem, both of which were sung quite
differently to the way they are sung by the Kheni students.
I offered to the principal to read to the
students, since it is national reading year and these students get little
opportunity to hear native English speakers. I declined the offer to choose a story, suggesting that it
would be better for a staff member to choose a story the students knew, in case
some students had trouble with the difference between my speech and that of
their teachers.
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| A different view of Kheni |
Tea with the principal followed and he
proudly displayed his gold medal from His Majesty, awarded for services to
remote schools. He told me that
had he known we were staying in Jangphutse, we could have stayed with him in
his house, a very generous offer.
We proceeded out of Jangphutse, passing
various building, including one with its elderly inhabitant sitting on the
steps. I greeted the gentleman in
Dzonkha and received no reply and no visual reaction. I asked Rinchen if he was blind, and Rinchen replied in the
negative and I suggested he looked as if he didn’t want to see me. Bruce suggested he was looking as if we
were not there. After some
discussion we could only surmise that he has not seen pale skin before and that
his conclusion was that we were ghosts.
I know enough of the stories and traditions that one should not speak to
ghosts, but just hope that they go away.
We did. It was, however, a
rather unusual experience.
Our trail through the village took us
through maize fields that were more like forests, down paths that were more
like streams, along the levees that separate the rice paddies and through
lemongrass clad hillsides,
Eventually the path turned into a steady descent around the hill, a
virtual superhighway compared to the paths we had previously travelled.
As we rounded the shoulder of the hill, I
had views of Kheni from a different perspective to my normal views, and the
verdant green of the rice paddies between the new and the old villages painted
a stunning swathe across the landscape.
We crossed the river on a suspension
footbridge and wound our way up through forest to the Kheni model village. En route I collected fresh peppercorns
and curry leaf for culinary purposes and we stopped for a break and were
delighted with the wide range of beautiful butterflies around us. It was after lunch time, by the time we
arrived at the model village so all was quiet, but we paused to admire the view
and look at where we had walked.
The final haul up the hill had us at home
by early afternoon, and thoughts of a hot lunch were replaced by thoughts of
some cold beer and cheese and crackers – Bruce having been entrusted by Deki
with a gift of Bumthang cheese when he arrived.
But first, a long, cold refreshing
shower. While Bruce was in the
shower, my neighbour, Sithar, bought around some reviving ara, laced with fried
egg. A very kind gesture.
All in all, rather an adventurous and a very enjoyable experience, even
if there was less of Bruce by the end of the trek.
