Date: Sat, 4 Mar 2006
To:
touring@phred.org
From: “Michael Ayers” <michael@terminalia.org>
Subject: Gondwana - Bucolic and Beautiful Bhutan
Kuzu Zangpo La Phreds,
Sometimes you get exactly
what you need, just when you need it.
That was the case for me
over the last couple of weeks, as I toured through probably my most anticipated
destination, Bhutan, the last Buddhist kingdom in the Himalaya. After many
weeks of often hectic, and sometimes mentally taxing, travels in Southeast
Asia, with enough vistas of rice paddies to last me for quite a while, I was
certainly ready for a change of pace and scene. Bhutan, filled with beautiful
environs, beautiful people, and beautiful culture, satisfied that need
completely.
Bhutan lies on the southern
slopes of the great Himalayas, with the highest peaks of the mighty range
forming its border with Tibet. The country falls down to the southern terminus of
the mountains, only 150 km to the south where it borders India. Extending just
300 km from east to west, it is therefore not a large country, but its rugged
terrain hides that fact. Its highest peaks rise greater than 7,300 meters above
sea level, with most of the largest towns placed between 1,400 and 2,400
meters, and the passes, called “La” as elsewhere in the Himalaya, reach
intermediate heights. However, at 27º 30’ N degrees latitude, about the same as
Tampa, Florida, the climate is not a severe as you might expect. In fact, it is quite varied, ranging from
permanent snow cover on the peaks, to temperate in the towns, to tropical on
the Indian border. The country has one of the best records of environmental protection
of any, and much of the land is still forested, even that which is accessible
by the few roads in the country.
Much of that fact is
probably due to Bhutan’s rather unique history and also to its rather unique
government. For many centuries, the area of modern Bhutan consisted of loosely
related local tribes or societies ruled by various forms of monarchy or
theocracy. There was much internal squabbling and some violence, and the area
could not be considered a unified country until sometime in the 17th
century. Fortunately, from Bhutan’s point of view, the country was never
occupied or colonized by any outside nation during the next 300 years, which
undoubtedly had a lot to do with its present pleasant circumstances. This was
likely due to the rugged terrain and the absence of oil, gold, or other
substances so sought after by the expansion-crazed outside world.
Then at the beginning of
the 20th century a stronger central government emerged, led by a
king with considerable power to determine the fate of the country. In a rare
situation, the kings of Bhutan since that time have ruled with the best
interests of the citizenry in mind and an aim to protect the environment and
culture of the country. This has led to a great deal of respect and admiration
towards the monarchy from the public. In
fact, the current king has recently decided to abdicate in 02008, and it is not
clear whether a more plural system with a new constitution will take his place,
which the king apparently favors, or if his son will take over as king, a
situation that would be supported by many people.
One effect of the country’s
desire to maintain its environment and culture was that it was closed to most
foreigners for most of the 20th century. When it opened to tourism, some 30 years ago,
it did so slowly and deliberately, with tight controls on the type of
development that could be built to service tourism. There was also a fixed
tariff system put in place, which is quite high compared to most of south Asia,
and a requirement to book a guided tour through a registered tour
operator. These rules were put in place
to steer the tourism industry toward
high value-low volume customers, and away from strictly budget-minded
travelers. However, that doesn’t mean that only rich executives visit Bhutan.
In fact, most of the facilities for tourists are relatively simple, though
quite nice, but not of the type usually desired by those interested only in
luxury vacations. Instead, these circumstances have lead to a situation where
only people who are really interested in seeing the country and its culture
make the effort to visit. The result has been that with only 10-15 thousand
visitors a year (compared to close to 10 million per year in Thailand), tourism
is the country’s second largest source of income, after the sale of
hydroelectric power to India.
The people of Bhutan are
splendid, and put forth a perfect balance of friendliness without being
overbearing. There are three groups of people in the country. Those that live
in the west, who are related to Tibetans, those in the east, who are related to
the hill tribes of northeast India an southern China, and those in the southern
foothills, who have origins in Nepal. However, the differences between the
groups are often subtle, with linguistic factors being a prime distinction. In
addition to the three indigenous languages, English is widely spoken, being
favored in education and international relations. In keeping with the policy of
cultural preservation, the people are encouraged to wear the traditional dress
of the country, and many do. For men, this is a knee-length robe, called a
“Gho” made from cotton or silk, usually with a narrow-plaid pattern, and with
big white cuffs on the sleeves. Socks that rise to the knee complete the
outfit. It’s the kind of clothing that I think I could easily get used to
(perhaps not the socks, however). Women wear a “Kira”, which consists of a
brightly-colored jacket and a matching skirt. Both are again made from bright
patterned silk or cotton.
All of these factors made
Bhutan irresistibly intriguing for me as I planned my tour. In fact, if I were
not able to work out the whole global tour I may have just done Bhutan alone.
Planning was not always easy, however. The tariff of $US 200.00 per day, plus a
40.00/day surcharge for traveling alone, obviously limited the amount of time I
could spend in the country. Then there were seasonal concerns. February may not
have been the best time as the weather would be a little chilly, the
wildflowers would not be at their peak, and, I would miss the spectacular
cultural festivals which are held mostly in the spring and fall. On the bright
side, there is a 17% discount off the base tariff for traveling in the
off-season, so that helped a lot. Additionally, since I booked the trip, and
paid the tariff, which covers the guides, all lodging and meals, but not
incidentals like drinks, laundry, internet, or souvenirs, over a year ago, well
before I left home, it often felt as if I were traveling for free.
When it came time to find
an agent, I discovered Jachung Travels (http://www.jachungtravel.com/biking.html),
run by a Bhutanese man named Tshering, who now lives in America, just a few
blocks away from my first apartment when I relocated to California several
years ago. He works in association with a company in Bhutan called Eagle Treks
and Tours (www.bhutaneagle.com), run
by a man named Pema Wangchuck. Both have experience in setting up cycling trips
in Bhutan, and they could not have been more helpful. The Bhutan government
prefers that visitors fly at least in or out of the country on the national
airline, and, if they do travel by land, that they only use the western border
crossing at a town called Phuentsholing.
However, my aversion to flying with the bike grows stronger every day,
and my desire to see both the west and east of the country would have made
entering and existing at Phuentsholing impractical, not to mention requiring an
unpleasant amount of backtracking. Fortunately, Tshering easily secured the
necessary special permits from the government to allow me to skip the flight
and enter at Phuentsholing and exit at the eastern border crossing at a town,
called Samdrup Jongkhar. That made everything much more agreeable to me, and
all I needed to do was to get myself and the bike there at the proper date.
As to the route plan, that
required a few adjustments later on. There is only one major road in the
country, with a few spur roads out to various distant towns. That road makes a
rough semi-circular path through the country (clockwise, of course), starting
in Phuentsholing, climbing up into the highlands and passing through the main
towns in the center of the country, before descending back down to Samdrup
Jonghkar in the southeast. That would
then be my route through the country, with a few diversions to take in some
extra sights. It would not be easy, however. The main range of the Himalaya runs
west-to-east, but on the southern slopes the ranges are oriented more north-to
south. That meant that there would be several Las to cross before we were
finished. Additionally, as is often the case, the distances between the towns
and sights were not always ideal for my daily pace. In the original plan, which
called for 10 riding days, there were some fairly short days, and a few that
would be impracticably long. I believe that previous cyclists touring in Bhutan
were probably not as stubborn as I am when it came to not wanting to ride in the
guide’s van if the day’s distance were too great. Once I learned the height of
some of the Las I needed to cross, it became clear that some of the days would
be too long. So I asked to add an additional day to the trip, and then another
later on, requiring a visa extension and the additional tariff from me, which
put quite a pinch on my pocket cash (there are no international ATM’s, nor cash
advance from Visa/MC available yet in Bhutan.) My tour agents took care of all
the paperwork, but they probably thought I was a little strange for wanting to
bike 100% of the way when the van was available. When I explained it terms
similar to the Buddhist principle of merits and demerits, such that every
kilometer traveled on a bike earns me a merit, while every one in a car earns a
demerit, I think they understood.
Finally, on to the ride.
Arrival turned out to be a bit of a hassle and rather exhausting. It was only
125 flat kilometers from my last stop in Bangladesh to Phuentsholing, so I
should have had an easy time getting there by late afternoon of the day before
the tour was to begin. Of course, I didn’t count on the Bangla-India border
crossing taking a maddening three hours, delaying me substantially. Then there
was another annoying mistake on my map (a Nelles map again!) About 50 km before
Phuentsholing, at a town called Bipara, it clearly showed a secondary road that
took a more direct path to the border, passing through a town called Lanka
Para. In Bipara I saw the junction, at which a sign marked “Gontu Bhutan”
pointed to the alternate route. I asked a couple of locals if that way went to
Bhutan, and was told that it did. So I took that road. After Lanka Para, the
road seemed to end, and some Indian soldiers told me that it was not possible
to get to Phuentsholing that way after all, but if I turned around and turned
north after 10 km, I could get to the Gontu Cement Factory which was in Bhutan.
Blech! I had to ride all the way back to Bipara and take the main road after
all. By this time it was getting very late, and I rode right up to sunset, but
unfortunately had to take a local bus for the final 25 km to the border. I did
ride an equivalent distance to the actual route that day, but 30 km of that was
the mixed-up detour. It was 6:30 PM when I finally arrived at Jaigaon, the town
just on the Indian side of the border from Phuentsholing, and I feared that the
border would already be closed. Fortunately, it stays open until 9:00 PM, so I
luckily had enough time to cross. Jaigaon and Phuentsholing, just meters apart,
make an interesting contrast. Jaigaon was typically Indian, crowded, chaotic,
completely commercial, a little worldly, and somewhat treacherous to bike
through, especially at night. On the other hand, Phuentsholing, despite being
marked with a larger dot on the map, was smaller, quiet, and pretty. After several minutes of discussions with the
border guards and immigration officer, who are not accustomed to international
visitors crossing the border there, especially on a bicycle, I had just enough
time to meet my guide, check in to the pleasant hotel, and grab some dinner. It
turned out to be a frazzling day, but I didn’t care because I was finally in
Bhutan.
My guide was a fellow who
is several years younger than me, named Tenzing. Quite knowledgeable and easy
to talk to, he saw to every last detail.
There was also a driver named Chhetri, and, later on, a cook named
Novbin joined our little group. It seemed like quite a crew for just me. This
was the first time that I have ever had support on a tour, and while the
assistance was appreciated, I could never quite get used to having people wait
on me all day long. That’s what comes from cycling independently for 9 months,
I suppose.
The first day of the ride
was to be from Phuentsholing to Paro, 160 km away, which on normal terrain
would be no problem. However, there were still some immigration formalities to
deal with in the morning, and the office did not open until nine, so it was
about 10:30 when I set out. Given that
Paro is 2,000 meters higher than Phuentsholing I knew that it would be
impossible to get there in one day. That was when I chose to add the second
additional day to the plan. That helped, but the first day was still a little
brutal. I assumed that if we only went halfway to Paro, I would only do half of
the elevation gain on the first day. Incorrect. The first 50 km, or so, from
Phuentsholing climbed right up to 2,300 m.
Perhaps it was fortuitous that it was foggy all that day, so there were
no vistas to distract my attention. The route on that first climb is fairly
isolated with only a few small settlements, some isolated homes, and a little
light industry. The road on that section was, as it is all the way across the
country, one wide lane, which is probably my favorite type these days. Being
the main access road between the larger towns in the west of the country and
India, all of the international trade passes along that section, with a higher
proportion of trucks than elsewhere.
Nevertheless, traffic was several steps lower than in the countries to
the south, which was a huge relief. There was still occasionally a little of
the annoying horn-honking, but at least the volume of the horns was not as
deafening as in Bangladesh. Even better, most of the truck drivers had enough
courtesy to slow down a little when we met on a narrower place on the road.
What a big difference that made.
It was well into the
afternoon when I reached the place for a meal break, where my guides were
waiting for me. Bhutanese food is somewhat similar to other Himalayan cuisines,
with Tibetan-style dumplings, Nepali rice with Dal, and also its own dishes,
like chilies or other vegetables cooked in what is called cheese, but tasted
more like a cream sauce to me. I had a sampling of such dishes at a little
roadside restaurant, which was more like a private home than a café, while a
few other guests watched television (which has only been available in Bhutan
within the last decade) while seated around a wood stove. Outside of the
tourist hotels, most restaurants in Bhutan are similar to that one. Like most
places, there are also little shops in towns, and along the roadways, selling
snacks, drinks, sometimes fruit, and other household items. Since my food was
included in my package, and was arranged in advance, I really didn’t need to
visit the shops as often as I normally would. However, from time to time, I did
anyway because I can always use more sugary drinks or snacks, and because I
usually try to support small local businesses like those.
There was not much daylight
left when I reached the top of the climb, but by then I was pretty close to the
halfway point to Paro, and our revised stopping point for the day. So I took
advantage of having the guides along and had them follow me down the 300-m
descent, illuminating the road with their headlights. At the bottom, in a gorge
made by the Wong Chu (Chu is river), was the powerhouse for the Chhukha
hydroelectric power station. They have a guest house there that is normally
used for officials coming to see the plant, but despite the fact that we
arrived unannounced, they got permission for us to stay there that night. It
was rather nice, and the staff prepared another hot meal, which was really
appreciated after the cold fog of the day.
The following morning was
one of the clearest of the tour. That was nice as now I could actually see the
mountains surrounding us, which were only ghostly shadows on the previous day.
There was only the 80 km left to reach Paro that day, but it was a bit slower
than I expected. Climbing up out of the gorge from Chhukha the road gained 500
meters before dropping down about 200 meters into another river valley. From
there it rose another 430meters to the high point on the way to Paro, 2,545
meters at Chapcha La. Then there was a 500-m descent before a long 6 km-stretch
where the road was under repair and quite bumpy. So it was well into the
afternoon by the time I reached the final turn to Paro, where the rivers Pa Chu
and Thim Chu meet to form the Wong Chu. I was a little surprised at how rocky the
mountains appeared in this area. I don’t really know why that surprised me,
probably because I had heard that so much of the country is forested. From
there it was an easy 35 km, rolling up and down a little, through the valley to
Paro. By then it was late afternoon and the wind and clouds had both picked up,
a situation which occurred on almost every day of my visit. In fact, later that
evening there was a brief rain shower, the first I had seen for a couple of
months.
From Paro, it was an easy
60-km, without any major climbs, to Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan. However,
without any need to rush, I put off the ride until the afternoon in order to do
some sightseeing in Paro. Most tourists first arrive in Bhutan at Paro, as that
is the location of the only airport (built there because few other places had
enough flat ground to contain a runway,) so there are many sights and
facilities geared to tourists there. I visited the ruins of Druk Gyul, an old
fort from the early days of the country, while there, another clear morning
allowed a view of 7,314-meter high Jumolhari, one of the big peaks in the main
Himalaya range. That turned out to be my only view of the tall peaks (I’m sure
there will be more next month,) while in Bhutan. I also visited the National Museum,
which has an excellent collection, but it’s the 17th-century
watchtower that houses the museum that is the real attraction. It is largely in
its original state and walking around the narrow stone passages made the
artifacts on display seem much more real and interesting.
Finally, there was a visit
to the Paro Dzong. Dzongs are classic Himalayan structures, many of which date
back several hundred years. They were originally fortresses, and so are
designed with a tall outer wall, painted white with a red band around the top,
signifying a religious structure, with a timberframe interior, including
elaborate, painted wooden decorative elements similar to those on a traditional
Bhutanese home, surrounding a central courtyard and a single tall tower. Today
the dzongs are half government/administrative centers and half for the monk
bodies.
In addition to the main
sights, Paro town itself was quite nice, being the first town I saw that
contained a large number of beautiful traditional homes. The standard design, which
is encouraged in most cases, consists of usually three stories, with wooden
window panels each with three tall, thin openings, all painted with colorful
patterns. Similar ornamentation is placed on eaves and doorways. The stucco,
wood, or stone walls are often painted with stylized figures of animals, either
real of mythical, as well as... ahem...fertility symbols. Even when built with
basic materials, or worn down from years of exposure to the elements, these
homes, seen throughout the country, add a charming and distinctive feel to the
landscape.
The next day was spent off
the bike in the capital, Thimphu. It was the first day off I’d had since I left
Dhaka, and I needed it in the worst way. Thimphu is the largest town in the
country, though with a population somewhere around 50,000, it is tiny by the
standards of other world capitals. Pretty and relaxed, it is quite pleasant to
stroll around, though with only one main commercial street several blocks long
it does not take long to take in all the sights. I spent the morning
overspending for souvenirs, watching townspeople participating in the national
pastime, archery, and sampling the fare from some of the only international
restaurants in the country, including the only really good bakery I’d seen in
weeks. In the afternoon my guides showed me some of the sights at the edge of
the city.
The next day had a
moderately easy route scheduled, though I made it slightly harder by making a
wrong turn after leaving Thimphu, adding 15-20 km to the distance. Once back on
track, I began the climb over the first high pass, Dorcha La. It was close to
my ideal for a mountain ascent, with a grade that was just right, and some nice
vistas. In contrast to the mountains on the first two days, these were thickly
covered with broadleaf and conifer forests and huge red and white rhododendrons
were blooming in many places. Dorcha La topped out at 3,220 meters, after a
climb of 900 meters, and by then the afternoon clouds had moved in bringing the
temperature down substantially. The good fortune of the day continued with the
descent, which picked up the pace by dropping 1,900 meters to the town of
Punakha. The road was in fairly good shape so that went by rather quickly. The
highlight of the day was a visit to the Punakha Dzong, which is ideally located
at the confluence of two pretty rivers, one that has glacial origins and one
that does not. The Punakha Dzong is one of the larger, and possibly the most
beautiful, in the country. Even better was that the central temple was open to
visitors that day. I have now seen many temples in Southeast Asia, all of which
have the same basic design. A large image of Buddha sits at one end of a large
hall, often surrounded by many smaller images and other beautiful objects. The
hall and the rest of the structure are always ornately decorated, but this
particular temple set the standard for beauty and elegance, with spectacular
frescos and detailed art on every windowsill and ceiling frame. It was all the
more inspiring thanks to the small number of visitors in the Dzong at that
particular time. The day finished several kilometers further on, near the town
of Wangdue Phodrang, at a nice place on the banks of the Sankosh River.
The following day’s terrain
was the harder converse of the previous day’s, with an 1,850 meter climb and
only a 940-meter descent. The grade on the way up was slightly steeper, and a
bit of fog obscured some of the views.
However, there was plenty to see, as the road ran midway up a wide gorge
for a considerable distance, giving vistas of both the river below and the
peaks above. I was especially impressed by the farmhouses that rested several
hundred meters high on the opposite side of the gorge, with terraces below for
growing crops, and no access, save for a tiny footpath winding up from the
river. Along the way I spotted a troupe of perhaps twenty or thirty Ashen
Langurs, fairly large monkeys with a mop of white hair on their heads, a black
face, and a long tail. In contrast to the macaques common throughout Asia, which
are not our most attractive primate cousins, these frisky creatures were quite
pleasant to look at. As the climb progressed the clouds grew thicker, the
temperate dropped to 3C, the grade became steeper, and the roads became softer
and bumpy in places. Making things seem
even more tiring, a low pressure system slowly passed overhead, causing my
altimeter to give false high readings. The actual height of the summit of Pele
La was 3,420 meters. Near the summit, in the dense fog, I saw my first Yaks. A
group of three of the big shaggy black bovines were milling about right in the
roadway. Yaks are brought down to the lower elevations of Bhutan during the
winter months, and I was glad I had the chance to see some while I was there.
The evening was spent at a small traveler’s rest stop called Chendebji, where
we all slept in a candlelit room kept warm by a wood-fired stove.
The next day was set to be
a moderately long one with another high pass on the way. The skies had cleared
by morning and the start of the day was really nice. The road once again ran
midway up a gorge for a considerable distance, but then, within sight of the
town of Trongsa, turned away from the town and dropped a few hundred meters
down to the river below. All along the way were beautiful little waterfalls and
blooming yellow Daphne trees. At the river, the road turned back towards
Trongsa and began the first climb of the day. Trongsa seemed like a nice little
town, with a pretty Dzong. It would have been nice to spend a little time
there, but that was a casualty of our itinerary changes. The climb continued,
for a total of 1,340 meters, to Yatong La at 3,425 meters, followed by a
descent of 900 meters. At the base of that descent, I had arrived in a region
of the country called Bumthang. Along that section of the route there was a
high concentration of especially beautiful homes, some with ladies sitting out
front working looms to produce woven fabrics, a craft for which Bhutan is
famous. I took the opportunity to visit a nearby shop displaying these
products, and bought some which I later sent home. Shortly I arrived at Jakar,
the main town of the region, where we spent the night at a very nice, rustic
lodge with a superb view of the Bumthang river.
Bumthang is as far to the
east as many visitors go in Bhutan. Not me, as my thoughts were still geared
towards heading east, and the next day was one of the toughest so far. There
were two high passes to ascend, in fact, the two highest of the route. The
climb to Sha Thang La, the first of these began shortly after leaving Jakar. It
was 1,000 meters up to the first summit at 3,590 meters, with another, larger,
herd of Yaks to be seen along the way. After a small descent of 490 meters I
stopped at a small creek crossing where my guides were waiting, having prepared
a nice lunch over an open fire, one of the tastiest of my visit. The fuel was
appreciated as there was still another 850 meters of climbing to do to the
second summit of the day, the majestic Thrumshing La at 3,780 meters. However, while the sun was shining over Sha
Thang La, keeping the temperature at a pleasant 20 C, the afternoon clouds had
blown in over Thrumshing La, dropping the environs to a chilly 3C.
At this point, there was a
little uncertainty and confusion in our plans.
I wanted to get as far as I could that day, in order to make the
following day as short and easy as possible. However, I had just learned that
after Thrumshing La there was a 3,200 meter descent. I have never seen anything
even close to that incredible drop, and I had a strong desire to do it all at
once. We had planned to camp that night at a place called Sengor, 20 km beyond
Thrumshing La. I told my guides that I wanted to either camp at the top or the
bottom of the descent, and when I asked whether Sengor was at the bottom, they
said it was. I was suspicious as 3,200meters over 20 km would have been a 16%
grade, which could have been possible, but seemed unlikely. At the summit,
there was only about a hour of daylight remaining, so I wasn’t going to get
farther than Sengor in any case. In the end, my suspicions were correct and
Sengor was only about a quarter of the way down the hill. So, I would have to
pass on the one long descent and do the rest the next morning.
That may not have been a
bad thing after all as the morning was bright and sunny once the Sun had
climbed high enough to burn the early fog off. The descent was not especially
fast as the road was narrow in places and there were few spots where slides had
messed up the surface. With that and occasionally stopping to take photographs,
admire more great waterfalls, and rest my hands, it took a few hours to travel
the remaining 60 km and 2,300meters of the descent. Though it was split in two
parts, my first >3,000meters descent was quite impressive, at the summit
there was snow on the ground, while near the base, oranges and bananas were
growing. At the bottom, the road crossed the Kuru River, and began another
1,000 meter climb to the day’s destination, the small town of Mongar. I wanted
that day to essentially be a rest day, but that last climb was more than I
expected, and after all the climbing over the past few days I was feeling quite
tired on the way up. Nevertheless, I arrived at 1:00 PM, and had the rest of
the day to relax. Mongar is a typically pleasant Bhutanese town, and later in
the afternoon I slowly strolled around a little, looking at the decorated
buildings and peeking into some of the little shops around the town. It was
nice that we finally stayed right in the center of town, with enough time in
the day left to look around a little, as opposed to some of the previous few
days, where there wasn’t much time to experience village and town life and see
the interesting people there. Later, I took another walk after dark to see what
a town in Bhutan was like at night. It’s illustrative to say that in Mongar
there were about a dozen dogs sleeping right in the middle of the main street
at 8:00 PM that night. That’s the kind of tranquility that I could really get
used to.
The only other event of
note occurred at 2:14 AM the next morning, when a moderate earthquake roused me
from my sleep. It was a tremor of about 5.8 Richter, with and epicenter about
120 km to the southeast. The shaking was only moderate, however, lasting maybe
10-15 seconds. Having experienced a few similar tremors while living in the Bay
Area, and still desperate for rest, I rolled over and went right back to sleep.
The dogs out in the street were a little more disturbed, and barked loudly for
what seemed like 20 minutes. Gondwanaland is still crashing into Asia, and the
Himalaya grew imperceptibly taller that night.
The next day was an
interesting side trip that was suggested by my tour agents, to the north, away
from the main road, and to the small out-of-the-way town of Lhuntse. That town
lies 75 km north of Mongar, so the return trip would make for a rather long
day. Fortunately, the afternoon rest the day before helped a lot, and I felt
fairly strong again. With so little flat ground available, towns in eastern
Bhutan are usually located at the top of ranges, and both Mongar and Lhuntse
are at 1400-1600 meter elevation, with the Kuru River deep in the valley
below. In an unusual situation the road
heads up the river valley, but drops down to the river level, so I actually
lost considerable altitude while heading up river. Midway along the route, that
changed and the road climbed back up to Lhuntse, making a U-shaped elevation
profile. None of that mattered too much, as the route was one of the most
spectacular I have ridden in quite a while. The Kuru River was an amazingly
pretty sight and would be a whitewater enthusiast’s dream. The environs changed
a bit along the way, being more lush and green at the Mongar end, and drier and
more open near Lhuntse. Red Flame trees and pink and white Hibiscus bloomed
along the river. The surrounding mountains were rugged and tall, and on
occasion the folds in the rock strata due to the uplift caused by the Indian
collision could be easily seen. The people of the area obviously do not see
international tourists very often and frequently gazed at me with puzzled
expressions, a situation that I have become familiar with over the years. The town of Lhuntse is very small with more
basic, less ornamented, buildings and few services. There is an impressive
Dzong there, which hovers over the town on the precipice of a hill. It was a
nice visit, and I was happy that I had the chance to go there. The only
disappointment was that, once again, the skies were too hazy to get a view of
the Himalayan peaks just to the north. The return ride was a little more
business-like as the afternoon clouds has arrived, and I had just enough
daylight to make it back to Mongar.
The following day was a
comparatively light one, which was nice. The route was 90 km to the only significant
town in the far east of the country, Trashigang. There was one significant
climb, to Kori La, which was a few hundred meters higher than I expected. The
climb rose a “mere” 750 km, to the 2,450 meter high summit. The highlight for
me was a nice sighting of a Rufous-Necked Hornbill, one of several species of
huge-billed birds found in Asia. Hornbills were supposed to be easy to see in
parts of Thailand, but I struck out there, so I was glad to make up for that
here. The one I saw was a female, so it did not have the huge “casque” on its
bill that males do, but its bill was giant nonetheless, and it was an extremely
impressive creature. I was able to watch it fly from tree to tree around a
small, forested river gorge. After Kori La there was a welcome 1,630 meter
descent, through a beautiful valley filled with several attractive homes and a
nice old monastery. The final stretch to Trashigang involved a couple of small
climbs to reach the town, which lies at 1,200 meters, and with a moderately
short distance I arrived with enough time to relax and get a feel for the town.
I enjoyed Trashigang, which has a typically relaxed feel, with many attractive
buildings, a pretty Dzong, and a beautiful setting, spilling along the curving
hills at the top of the ridge. Sadly, though, it marked the eastern most extent
of my route and only one day remained.
Of course, that last day
turned out to be one of the most tiring of the tour. There is little along the
180 kms between Trashigang and the border town of Samdrup Jongkhar. When I
first saw that on the itinerary, I thought that 180 km is a reasonable distance
with gentle terrain, but that since it would all be downhill it would be fairly
easy in a single day. Wrong again. The
terrain was much more severe then I expected, with a total of 2,350 meters of
climbing and 3,150 meters of descent. I started early, and made it up the 1,570
meter climb to Yangphu La (which, annoyingly, had its stupa and group of prayer
flags, which always mark the summits, placed 250 meters below the actual top of
the climb,) reasonably early in the day. The next 80 km rolled up and down, and
included a 500-m climb and a couple of smaller ones as well. Those really
started to take their toll and my pace slowed considerably. By the time the
final descent began there was not much daylight remaining. Unfortunately, there
were some soft and narrow sections of road, and so the descent was not very
fast. There was still 30-40 km to go when the last of the light disappeared.
Not wanting to give in and stop the ride early, I took advantage of the
presence of my guides once again and had them follow behind me, illuminating
the road again. After an annoying delay while my guide dealt with an
immigration official who was displeased with the paperwork we brought, we
finally arrived in Samdrup Jongkhar.
That brought my tour of
Bhutan to a close, satisfied that I successfully traversed my first foray into
the Himalaya, I was nonetheless a little sad that it was over. It was
everything that I had hoped for, though it would be nice to return someday, at
a different time of year when the skies are clearer and the festival season is
in full swing. All in all, there were a total of 14,900 meters of ascents (and
descents) on just the major climbs.
Having successfully avoided the need to travel in the van with the
guides, the number of kilometers traveled by bicycle earned me 1,145 merits and
0 demerits. Good for me.
Now, on to India and Nepal.
Kadinche La,
Mike
--
The Tour
of Gondwana
May 02005 -
Oct 02007
http://www.terminalia.org/tour