Journey in Bhutan:: Himalayan Trek in the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon
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About this ebook
This vivid and lyrical travelogue leads you into Bhutanese culture and history, and with infectious humour, draws the characters of her American and Australian travelling companions. For discerning readers, Appendices include a glossary of Dzongka words, a historical timeline and a ‘Survival Guide to Bhutanese Buddhism’.
Trish Nicholson
Trish Nicholson is a social anthropologist and conservationist, a storyteller, author of a range of non-fiction works, and a former columnist and features writer. She lives on a hilltop in the far north of New Zealand where, for the past twenty years, she has been raising and planting native trees.
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Journey in Bhutan: - Trish Nicholson
Journey in Bhutan:
Himalayan Trek in the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon
Trish Nicholson
Copyright © 2015 Trish Nicholson
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,
or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in
any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the
publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with
the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries
concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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Converted to eBook by EasyEPUB
What makes us true travellers is not how far we go,
but how well we see.
Contents
Cover
Praise for Journey in Bhutan
Other Matador titles by this author
About the Author
List of Illustrations
Journey in Bhutan: Himalayan Trek in the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon
1: The Long Arriving in the Land of the Thunder Dragon
2: Paro Valley
Drugyel Dzong – echoing with the thunderous clatter of war horses
Kyichu Lhakhang – the constant rattle of prayer wheels
Taktsang Monastery – on a flying tiger
Paro Dzong – the ‘heap of jewels’ and the Raven Crown
3: Preparing for the Trek
4: The Trek
Paro to Shana – wet boots encircle the fire, quietly steaming
Shana to Soi Thangthanka – in the footsteps of travellers centuries ago
Soi Thangthanka to Jangothang – Jhomolhari , elusive Goddess of the Mountain
Jangothang to Lingshi – magic of the high pass at Nyile La
Lingshi to Shodu – yak herders, guardians of the high passes
Shodu to Dolam Kenchha – our last night around the campfire
5: Thimphu – The Capital – painted shops and silver coated almond biscuits
Tashichho Dzong – shawms bellow like a roar from deep in the earth
6: Punakha Dzong – where Dragon Kings are crowned
7: Reluctant departure
8: The View from Here
References and Suggestions for Further Reading
Appendices
Links to Maps
Glossary
History of Bhutan: Time-line
A Survival Guide to Bhutanese Buddhism
Praise for Journey in Bhutan
‘... astounding description, a detailed and lush understanding of language.’ Justin Bogdanovitch, In Classic Style magazine
‘An exceptional example of travel memoir. An intelligent, thoughtful and entertaining book that I highly recommend.’ Dionne Lister
‘...vivid, and lively, and totally engrossing.’ Gabrielle Kimm
‘The gold standard for travel stories.’ Amazon review
Other Matador titles by this author
Inside the Crocodile: the Papua New Guinea Journals – a rare insider view of the most culturally diverse nation on earth.
In remote valleys, students build their own schools, babies’ weights are recorded in rice bags, and women walk for days carrying their produce to market. Inside the Crocodile tells their stories and shares the author’s life as a development worker in this ‘land of surprises’ – including Frisbee, the dog she inherits.
‘An enormously enjoyable book full of touching moments, beautiful descriptive passages and plenty of humour.’ Christina O’Reilly
Writing Your Nonfiction Book: the Complete Guide to Becoming an Author – how to plan, research, write, edit, publish and sell memoir, travelogue, history, biography, self-help, documentary or any narrative non-fiction book on your chosen topic.
‘An essential ‘how to’ manual for writers of every sort.’ Anne Stormont, Words with JAM magazine
‘Don’t write before you read this.’ Anne Coates
About the Author
Trish Nicholson is a writer and social anthropologist, and a former columnist and feature writer for national media. After an early career in regional government in the UK and Europe, and tutoring in the Open University and Open Business School, she was for fifteen years a development aid worker in the Asia Pacific, including five years in West Sepik, Papua New Guinea, where she also served as Honorary Consul for the British High Commission. For three years she directed the Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO) operations in the Philippines where she later completed a doctoral degree. Further research, on indigenous tourism initiatives in the Philippines, Vietnam and Australia, was partially funded by a grant from the UK Department for International Development. A shifting lifestyle she survived with a sense of humour. Other travels led her to extensive treks in Bhutan, Tibet, and Nepal. Trish Nicholson’s other works include books of popular science, travel, management, and writing skills. She lives in New Zealand.
www.trishnicholsonswordsinthetreehouse.com
List of Illustrations
1. Westward view from Nyile La
2. Kyichu Lhakhang, spinning prayer-wheels in the courtyard
3. Kyichu Lhakhang, child monks chanting sacred texts
4. Taktsang monastery, the Tiger’s Nest perched on a 1000 metre cliff
5. Padmasambhava on a flying tiger inside Taktsang monastery
6. ‘It was like walking through a wild shrubbery’
7. Shana, the round-house where we slept the first night
8. Prayer flag overlooking Jhomolhari camp
9. Mount Jhomolhari, Goddess of the Mountain, ‘like a massive uncut diamond’
10. Yak herder’s tent in summer pasture
11. Lobsang's wife and daughter
12. Lobsang making chogu, yak cheese
13. Bharal, the native blue sheep
14. Distant view of Lingshi Dzong towards the Tibetan border
15. Around Nyile La, peaks rise to over 6000 metres
16. Tashichho Dzong, monks walk in the courtyard
17. Tashichho Dzong, a ceremony in the monastery
18. An apple and a blessing from a sage
19. A weaver wearing a kira
20. Punakha Dzong where the rivers Mo Chhu and Po Chhu meet
21. Three curious little boys
Westward view from Nyile La
Journey in Bhutan: Himalayan Trek in the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon
Our blue tents nestle below like a patch of gentians in the scree, faded slightly in the weakening sunlight. Streams meander back and forth across the valley floor mimicking the silver traces of a snail. In this high, exposed spot the wind is terrific. The prayer-flag cracks out its mantras in a staccato chant – the flag half worn away with its piety, its role to calm the unpredictable earth spirits.
1: The Long Arriving in the Land of the Thunder Dragon
Stepping from an air-conditioned plane at Delhi airport, the heat felt like a hot wet flannel slapped onto my face. Now, in the shuffling mass of other unwashed travellers being herded through embarkation checks, baggage collection and finally passport control, I could do with that flannel to filter the fetid atmosphere. Most passengers have been travelling for at least thirty hours; we present red-eyed, creased faces to the officers at the desk.
It is 11.30 pm local time and my onward flight to Bagdogra is at 9.0am. I am neither staying in India nor a transit passenger, Bagdogra is a domestic flight, but it’s not until tomorrow and no one seems to know what forms to give me. A weary figure in khaki asks where I will spend the night. He grunts and wags his head when I reply, In the airport,
but it is too late and too hot to deal with anomalies – he shrugs, waving me impatiently out of sight.
By the time I find the domestic departure building it is well after midnight and the gaunt interior is in silence except for the hysterical squawking of my luggage trolley – all the more annoying for the handful of people trying to sleep on blankets on the floor. The expanse of black speckled marble is fringed with orange plastic seats fixed to the wall. Three of the eight ceiling fans work – or at least, whine. Unfortunately, the seats beneath them are already occupied by sleeping passengers, so is the floor space within their radius, so I settle down under a silent fan and prop my feet on the luggage.
At the far end of the room, a line of overhead destination boards above deserted check-in desks make promises of Patna, Calcutta, Bombay, and Bagdogra, but no flights are going anywhere for the next eight hours.
It is at such low points in a journey that the rational mind throws out the question – why am I here?
I recall a journey in my childhood: being reunited with my parents after 18 months – and the possibility of permanence – with foster parents at the other end of the country. The family trauma that caused this separation was resolved and we’d been travelling home on the top of a bus for what seemed half a lifetime to a child. Tired and fractious, I told my parents, with the blameless insensitivity of a five-year-old, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it was all this way.
But the truth is I would have come to Bhutan whatever I’d had to go through to get here. I’d already sold my car to pay for the trip.
A couple of years ago, sorting through dusty boxes of old books and magazines left me by a favourite aunt, I came upon a National Geographic Magazine from 1914. A bookmark – a crinkly, yellowed invoice for marzipan (my aunt had owned tearooms) – drew me to the most amazing photographs of mist threaded mountains, exotic architecture, and distinguished looking men wearing what appeared to be navy blue dressing gowns with broad white cuffs. "Experiences and Journeys in Unknown Bhutan" – had my aunt longed to go there herself? Was the marzipan marker a message of some kind?
I have always believed in the power of serendipity. The few books I found on Bhutan were peppered with words like, dragons, dzongs, medieval fortresses, unknown kingdoms and mysterious monasteries perched on top of mountains. And its own citizens call their country Druk-Yul, Land of the Thunder Dragon. Finding out how to get there was my next step – the fact that I would get there was somehow taken for granted in my enthusiasm.
The world’s only Buddhist Kingdom, Bhutan is hidden away among eastern Himalayan peaks that reach 8,000 metres; about the size and shape of Switzerland, with less than a million people, it is sandwiched between India to the south, and Chinese occupied Tibet to the north. As if that were not difficulty enough, Bhutan isolated itself from the world until the 1960s, when a few travellers were allowed in among diplomatic exchanges and other tentative moves towards the international community.
Tourism began only in 1974: there were 287 foreign visitors in the country that year. Visitor numbers are still tightly controlled to protect the environment and culture, but a few foreign companies now link with a growing number of local tour operators to arrange small-group visits and treks: independent travel in Bhutan is not permitted. I had booked with an American company specialising in small-group expeditions.
Bhutan’s ‘coming out’ started when the first road was built from India into western Bhutan, linking Phuntsholing on the border, to the town of Paro, and beyond to the tiny capital of Thimphu. This is the road we would take. Having flown to Delhi, where I would meet up with the rest of the group arriving from various locations, our route involved a three hour flight to Bagdogra airport, transfer to the nearest town of Siliguri, then a long drive through Darjeeling to Phuntsholing.
The rattle of an approaching luggage trolley breaks my reverie; it heads straight for me. Hi, I saw your baggage; I guess we’re waiting for the same group.
An easy deduction: we are the only non-Asians in the building. I’m Stefan,
the short, thick-set figure and east European accent are deceptive – it turns out Stefan is from California where he does something complicated with finance. His smart safari suit is creased and saggy from a journey even longer than mine. From the trip list we are expecting five more Americans, including our leader, and one Australian.
In the eerie quiet of whirring fans and snuffling passengers we share our travel experiences, trying to convince each other, but mostly ourselves, that we are fit enough to handle this trek: it covers over 100 miles and crosses passes at 5,000 metres (16,000ft). According to the brochure, the route is ‘strenuous’; we should be ‘strong, regular hikers in good physical condition.’ Would the short morning jogs and long weekend walks over the heather – my ‘training’ over the last few weeks – prove to be enough preparation?
Our Scottish mountains are no match for the Himalayas – the lowest point in our trek is twice the height of Ben Nevis.
Stefan delves into a canvas bag, draws out a bag of dates and offers them – squashed to a clingy mush but delicious under the circumstances. We have passed a couple of hours in conversation. Leaving Stefan to keep an eye on the baggage, I investigate the toilets. The doors are labelled ‘European’, or ‘Asian’, not, I realise, an attempt to segregate, merely a choice of appliance. Already familiar with floor-level Asian toilets, I decide to go for local culture, aware that even this ceramic hole in the concrete will be a remembered luxury for some time