As we began our descent into the airport at Paro, we were immediately
struck by the fact that the landscape outside was going by at an angle
more
appropriate for a crash, and after de-planing, the reason
was
obvious.
We barely had time to stash our baggage and grab a quick lunch before being whisked off to our first of three day-hikes designed to get everyone used to the altitude. The town of Paro is located at about 7,000 feet above sea level, so acclimatization is a concern for most guests arriving for a trek in Bhutan. A week from now, we will be facing two over 15,000 foot passes in two days, preceeded only by two nights and one rest day at 13,000 feet. Most trails in Bhutan incline quickly, and within a couple of hours we found ourselves on the steps of the Sangchoeker Monastery and a dizzying view of the valley 1,000 vertical feet below. Though an exhilirating feeling, nothing would compare to the sensory experience awaiting us inside. Inside the monastery, we were greeted by the curious faces of monks, some of whom had never laid eyes on anyone from outside of Bhutan, let alone a group of camera toting tourists from the United States. We quickly accepted the invitation into the centuries-old temple. With shoes off, we ducked under the ornately embroidered curtain/door and stepped back in time; incense mingled with the sounds of metal, Tibetan-style horns and ceremonial drums. The chanting of monks, who read from hand-written Sanskrit manuscripts wreaking of history, was mesmerizing. Around us, centuries old statues of Buddha and corresponding saints were adorned with ceremonial scarves. Thangkhas and religious murals adorned the walls barely illuminated by outside light filtering through the windows and incense smoke. Seated cross-legged on the hardwood floors we found ourselves the object of numerous quick glances over red-robed shoulders. Time stopped as, for what seemd like hours but amounted to no more than 30 minutes, we were swept away by the power of this place. After leaving small donations on the altar we were offered holy water from a brass pitcher decorated with peacock feathers. Surely a good sign of things to come.
On our third day we hiked to Taktsang Lhakhang, otherwise known as the Tiger's Lair, a temple complex that is one of the most venerated pilgrim sites in the Himalayan world, containing no less than 13 holy places situated in three buildings. Perched thousands of feet above the valley floor on a rock ledge that seems to defy any attempts to reach it, this very holy place was, sadly, all but destroyed this past April by fire. On the way up to the temple we met and traveled with a party of Tibetan monks who, at the suggestion of the Dalai Lama, were on a pilgrimage to Taktsang. As it turns out, one of these monks was the spiritual equivalent to His Holiness the Dalai Lama and is usually protected by bodyguards who on this day had remained in Paro to collect supplies. On the fourth day we began our trek. For the next nine days our lives were measured by sightings of blue sheep, the view of 24,000 foot Mount Chomolhari and the culinary experience of hemadatsi, a soup-like mixture of cheese and chili peppers that make jalapeños seem like child's play. We encountered yaks and their herders. We saw some of the most varied and beautiful mountain terrain and rivers on the planet and experienced the oxygen debt that comes with high altitude trekking. And every day we encountered people — people who were so gracious and kind they make you not want to leave, though the hardships in the countryside are great and their toll obvious. Despite the hardships, however, the people of Bhutan are comparatively well off given that 98% of the country's peasants own their own land and therefore lack only a few real necessities.
With a week still left for a "cultural tour" of other towns in Bhutan, I departed after two nights in Thimpu for Tongsa, site of the largest and most stately dzongs in Bhutan. Then it was off to Bumthang, location of more holy sites per valley than anywhere else in the country. On a day-hike just outside of Jakar Town, my guide and I headed up to a small monastery perched, like most, on the side of a steep hill. Here I was given a Bhutanese name by the resident lama who, unfortunately, was confined to his bed by illness. He seemed quite pleased to have a visitor from so far away. On the usual steep trip down, the sounds of cuckoos and the occasional Buddhist shrine encountered on the trail were constant reminders of how truly special and unspoiled this place is. Without a doubt, our group has been privy to a period of planned spontaneity that few other destinations in the world can offer. On average, not many more than 3000 visitors per year come to Bhutan. I attribute that to the fact that the government has the wisdom and insight to know how important it is to protect and preserve a way of life that has existed for centuries. As a quote from Barbara Crossetts's book So Close to Heaven says: "Bhutan is to the world's culture what the rain forests are to the world's environment. I truly believe in this statement and hope for the salvation of each."
— Bob Winsett, Mountain Zone Correspondent | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
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