Thimpue, Bhutan
November 5, 2012
Altitude: 7,710'
About twenty minutes into the flight from Kathmandu to Paro, there was a real sense of excitement on board. We were flying northeast, we were passing a dramatic view of the Himalayas. We passed Mt. Everest and Lotse before passing another dramatic stretch of the Indian Himalayas--all mountains over 23,000'. Just before landing we caught a glimpse of Bhutan's highest peak
--Jhomolhari. Druk Air Flight 401 is easily the most dramatic flight int he world.
What an introduction to Bhutan! I think because of this flight, and because, at lest for the majority of us, Bhutan was very high on the travel destination list of place to go in the world. It certainly was for me.
Once through customs, I exited the terminal to see my driver/guide holding a sign: "Daniel Ladue." I'd arrived and I was excited.
Bhutan! I'd jumped through a lot of hoops to get this far, and had budgeted far more than usual. The was the beginning of a ten day journey that would bring me from the eastern populated region of the country to the center.
Long ago I stopped creating travel expectations and I'm rarely disappointed. I just knew that Bhutan would not disappoint.
But it was late in the day and I'd lost another hour and sunset was but two hours away.
Yeshey, my driver/guide, allowed me to alter any travel plans that he had. I wanted to see the Thimpue weekend market. Dried yak cheese, strings of pig intestines. I just hoped that wouldn't be on the menu that evening. I also told Yeshey that each day I wanted to hike and that I'd be satisfied with one museum instead of many. He was more than flexible.
That evening I had a taste of the kind of hotel I'd be staying in. All hotels had been chosen in August and there were all three to five stars. Of course, for the privilege of entering Bhutan I had to pay a steep price of $290.00 a day, but that included hotels, my driver, all meals and all entrance fees.
When I entered the dining room that evening there was bust one couple. I asked if I might join them. They were more than inviting.
We were on the cusp of the US Presidential Elections and more than once I'd been asked my opinion. There was a widespread fear that that the President would not be reelected.
People were often guarded. They were fully aware of how divisive American polictics had become. One an even sugested that this could be the seeds of a civil war, but I didn't quite think it was that radical.
Wolfgang and Inka, from Germany, were the same. Once they learned I wasn't a Republican, they loosened up.
"What is it you people want?" Inka asked me. Your country is willing to wage two wars, go trillions of dollars in debt, but yet there is a battle to prevent people from having health care."
I had answers, but they were only my opinions. Both of these people were old enough to have grown up during WW II and their view of world politics was far different from others. I had to respect them. This would not be the first conversation I'd have of this sort during my week in Bhutan.
Our first day brought us out of the Paro Valley. We passed apple orchards and tall, lovely forests of Blue Pine and then we climbed through a moist forest of rhodendrons, alder, hemlock and fir, past huge chortens--Buddhist monuments containing the relics of a saint and strategically placed tp protect travelers. We were on our to Dochu La Pass at 9,968'.
Buddhism in Bhutan has a strong Tibetan influence. Strings and strings of multicolored prayer flags blew in the steady breeze. We stopped for tea and the view from the tea house, over a long line of 18,000 mountain peaks, was astounding.
As we descended, we left high altitude vegetation and the landscape changed. It became increasingly tropical. There were fields of sugar cane, stands of mangoes, wheat fields and corn fields. Because of the altitude, this was the end of the harvest season. By the time we dropped into the sultry, fertile Punhaka Valley, we'd dropped 5,000'. The road was sinuous and sindy. There were no guard rails separating the road and drop offs of 1,000'. We were essentially on a single lane highway and rop offs of thousands of feet weren't uncommon. Signs cautioned driver:
"Drink whiskey. Make risky."
"Sharp curves. Keep your nerves."
"Take care. Don't dare."
But I seemed to be in good hands with Yeshey, plus I've been on so many hair-raising roads in my life that I've somehow learned to manage my fears. I also knew that God was steps away. I always know that there are times you just have trust and let go.
As we came off the pass, monasteries began to appear on the surrounding hills. Fast flowing streams--clean and clear--flowed off the mountains. At times there would be black and red prayer wheels--cylinders really--with printed prayers inside which were "said" each time it turned. The ones by the rivers were housed in a small shrine and the wheels turned effortlessly hydro-electrically.
By mid afternoon we stopped by the banks of the Mo Chuu River--a glorious glacial fed river that ran milky green and cold. Yeshey knew that each day had to involve some hiking. He pointed to a temple high above the river--Chimi Lkakhang. We set off almost at once.
It was a pleasant walk past terraced rice paddies, past poinsettia trees in full bloom, past children selling fresh, delcious guavas.
From the temple, we had impressive views of lower Himalayan peaks--all still well above 13,000'--primeval valleys and tiny villages high on mountains sides.
By the time we left, the sun had slipped behind the mountains. We hiked down and make our way Punhaka for the night. This was Yeshey's hometown and he was able to spend the night with his family.
As was the case every night at dinner, once my American accent was discerned the conversation always led to the upcoming election. "What happens in the US has a ripple affect around the world," said a Singaporian woman. "We are very concerned."
And I had to agree.
The next morning we headed in Wangdue Province which brought us over another Pass--Pela La--the highest we'd cross at 11,115'. I was very happy for two things: the altimeter Steve gave me for Christmas and the red cells I still had in my body from living at 7,000' in Mexico City. I never had a problem.
Herds of yaks grazed at the highest elevations. As we dropped, I felt, for a moment, that I was in the Adirondacks as we passed evergreen forests, past rivers that fizzled and frothed. It was beautiful. Once lower, we were now, officially at least, in the Central Bhutan where we'd spend the better part of our time.
At lunchtime, at the confluence of two rivers, we came upon a massive stupa--a Buddhist monument--and a monastery. How fortunate for me. There was a three day gathering of monks, novices and devotees going on. They had gathered to to pray for world peace.
By now Yeshey knew that I'd want to stop. There were, essentially,two groups of people--many sitting on the ground eating a lunch fed to them by the monks and others gaining merits by circumnavigating the stupa, many of them holding hand held prayer wheels thus doubling their merit. I was the only tourist and more than once the monks offered me lunch. It was a simple meal of rice and vegetables, but I was far more interested in seeing what I could see than eating.
But what an hour I had. And all in the name of world peace. I had to admire that.
But Yeshey was himself hungry and getting me to the next meal always seemed a high priority to him. My god, though... each meal, in a first class restaurant, was enough for three people.
These early days were magical. I as high in the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan and around each new bend in the road was another wonder.
It was going to be a phenomenal week!
November 5, 2012
Altitude: 7,710'
About twenty minutes into the flight from Kathmandu to Paro, there was a real sense of excitement on board. We were flying northeast, we were passing a dramatic view of the Himalayas. We passed Mt. Everest and Lotse before passing another dramatic stretch of the Indian Himalayas--all mountains over 23,000'. Just before landing we caught a glimpse of Bhutan's highest peak
--Jhomolhari. Druk Air Flight 401 is easily the most dramatic flight int he world.
What an introduction to Bhutan! I think because of this flight, and because, at lest for the majority of us, Bhutan was very high on the travel destination list of place to go in the world. It certainly was for me.
Once through customs, I exited the terminal to see my driver/guide holding a sign: "Daniel Ladue." I'd arrived and I was excited.
Bhutan! I'd jumped through a lot of hoops to get this far, and had budgeted far more than usual. The was the beginning of a ten day journey that would bring me from the eastern populated region of the country to the center.
Long ago I stopped creating travel expectations and I'm rarely disappointed. I just knew that Bhutan would not disappoint.
But it was late in the day and I'd lost another hour and sunset was but two hours away.
Yeshey, my driver/guide, allowed me to alter any travel plans that he had. I wanted to see the Thimpue weekend market. Dried yak cheese, strings of pig intestines. I just hoped that wouldn't be on the menu that evening. I also told Yeshey that each day I wanted to hike and that I'd be satisfied with one museum instead of many. He was more than flexible.
That evening I had a taste of the kind of hotel I'd be staying in. All hotels had been chosen in August and there were all three to five stars. Of course, for the privilege of entering Bhutan I had to pay a steep price of $290.00 a day, but that included hotels, my driver, all meals and all entrance fees.
When I entered the dining room that evening there was bust one couple. I asked if I might join them. They were more than inviting.
We were on the cusp of the US Presidential Elections and more than once I'd been asked my opinion. There was a widespread fear that that the President would not be reelected.
People were often guarded. They were fully aware of how divisive American polictics had become. One an even sugested that this could be the seeds of a civil war, but I didn't quite think it was that radical.
Wolfgang and Inka, from Germany, were the same. Once they learned I wasn't a Republican, they loosened up.
"What is it you people want?" Inka asked me. Your country is willing to wage two wars, go trillions of dollars in debt, but yet there is a battle to prevent people from having health care."
I had answers, but they were only my opinions. Both of these people were old enough to have grown up during WW II and their view of world politics was far different from others. I had to respect them. This would not be the first conversation I'd have of this sort during my week in Bhutan.
Our first day brought us out of the Paro Valley. We passed apple orchards and tall, lovely forests of Blue Pine and then we climbed through a moist forest of rhodendrons, alder, hemlock and fir, past huge chortens--Buddhist monuments containing the relics of a saint and strategically placed tp protect travelers. We were on our to Dochu La Pass at 9,968'.
Buddhism in Bhutan has a strong Tibetan influence. Strings and strings of multicolored prayer flags blew in the steady breeze. We stopped for tea and the view from the tea house, over a long line of 18,000 mountain peaks, was astounding.
As we descended, we left high altitude vegetation and the landscape changed. It became increasingly tropical. There were fields of sugar cane, stands of mangoes, wheat fields and corn fields. Because of the altitude, this was the end of the harvest season. By the time we dropped into the sultry, fertile Punhaka Valley, we'd dropped 5,000'. The road was sinuous and sindy. There were no guard rails separating the road and drop offs of 1,000'. We were essentially on a single lane highway and rop offs of thousands of feet weren't uncommon. Signs cautioned driver:
"Drink whiskey. Make risky."
"Sharp curves. Keep your nerves."
"Take care. Don't dare."
But I seemed to be in good hands with Yeshey, plus I've been on so many hair-raising roads in my life that I've somehow learned to manage my fears. I also knew that God was steps away. I always know that there are times you just have trust and let go.
As we came off the pass, monasteries began to appear on the surrounding hills. Fast flowing streams--clean and clear--flowed off the mountains. At times there would be black and red prayer wheels--cylinders really--with printed prayers inside which were "said" each time it turned. The ones by the rivers were housed in a small shrine and the wheels turned effortlessly hydro-electrically.
By mid afternoon we stopped by the banks of the Mo Chuu River--a glorious glacial fed river that ran milky green and cold. Yeshey knew that each day had to involve some hiking. He pointed to a temple high above the river--Chimi Lkakhang. We set off almost at once.
It was a pleasant walk past terraced rice paddies, past poinsettia trees in full bloom, past children selling fresh, delcious guavas.
From the temple, we had impressive views of lower Himalayan peaks--all still well above 13,000'--primeval valleys and tiny villages high on mountains sides.
By the time we left, the sun had slipped behind the mountains. We hiked down and make our way Punhaka for the night. This was Yeshey's hometown and he was able to spend the night with his family.
As was the case every night at dinner, once my American accent was discerned the conversation always led to the upcoming election. "What happens in the US has a ripple affect around the world," said a Singaporian woman. "We are very concerned."
And I had to agree.
The next morning we headed in Wangdue Province which brought us over another Pass--Pela La--the highest we'd cross at 11,115'. I was very happy for two things: the altimeter Steve gave me for Christmas and the red cells I still had in my body from living at 7,000' in Mexico City. I never had a problem.
Herds of yaks grazed at the highest elevations. As we dropped, I felt, for a moment, that I was in the Adirondacks as we passed evergreen forests, past rivers that fizzled and frothed. It was beautiful. Once lower, we were now, officially at least, in the Central Bhutan where we'd spend the better part of our time.
At lunchtime, at the confluence of two rivers, we came upon a massive stupa--a Buddhist monument--and a monastery. How fortunate for me. There was a three day gathering of monks, novices and devotees going on. They had gathered to to pray for world peace.
By now Yeshey knew that I'd want to stop. There were, essentially,two groups of people--many sitting on the ground eating a lunch fed to them by the monks and others gaining merits by circumnavigating the stupa, many of them holding hand held prayer wheels thus doubling their merit. I was the only tourist and more than once the monks offered me lunch. It was a simple meal of rice and vegetables, but I was far more interested in seeing what I could see than eating.
But what an hour I had. And all in the name of world peace. I had to admire that.
But Yeshey was himself hungry and getting me to the next meal always seemed a high priority to him. My god, though... each meal, in a first class restaurant, was enough for three people.
These early days were magical. I as high in the Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan and around each new bend in the road was another wonder.
It was going to be a phenomenal week!
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