Patrick ventured out into a crystal clear morning to fetch the tea. It was cold -- 28 degrees Fahrenheit (-2 Celsius) according to his thermometer -- and terribly beautiful. A trail dog, his fur coated with a rime of ice, came over to say hello. Patrick named him "Ice Dog," and he spent most of the day at camp with us.
At the top of the valley stood Chomolhari, which rises to a summit just short of 24,000 feet (7,315 meters). It is a holy mountain, sacred to the protector goddesses (chomo) who were charged by Guru Rinpoche to uphold the Buddhist faith and protect the people who live in the shadow of the mountain. Breathtaking.
Closer at hand was a large hill. Over breakfast, Namgay -- who seemed to be feeling better -- told us that this mountain used to be much larger.
We were camped in the ancient kingdom of Jangothang, Namgay explained. The king of Jangothang, whose now ruined fortress was built to guard the valley, had commanded his subjects to cut down the mountain, because it blocked the sunlight. The people labored to fulfill the king's command, until one day a wise old woman gathered the people together. "Much easier to chop one head than a whole mountain," she told them. The people rose up and killed the king -- and thus fell the kingdom of Jangothang.
We're sure that story will prove useful for a future staff meeting.
Namgay told us we had several options for day hikes. "We can hike to the foot of Chomolhari and see the glacier," he said. "Three hours, one way. Or we can climb this mountain" -- here he pointed to another large hill beside the camp -- "and have very good views of Chomolhari and Jichu Drakye. Or--"
"Or," we said with a smile, "we could stay in camp and be lazy."
That's exactly what we did. While the day hikes sounded fascinating, we knew we could use the rest, especially with the Bhonte La pass to come. We decided to take advantage of the brilliant sunshine to air out our tent and sleeping bags -- and hoped the goddesses of the mountain didn't mind.
We took a short hike up the valley towards a set of stone houses used by yak herders and park rangers.
On our way back we ran into two young Bhutanese soldiers -- an officer and an enlisted man -- accompanied by two porters. The officer sent his subordinate and the porters ahead while he stopped to chat with us in his excellent English. He was on his way to his post at Lingzhi for a year-long assignment. The commanding officer had given him his billet and basically told him to start walking. To get to Lingzhi he and the others would have to cross the Nyile La pass at 15,978 feet (4,870 meters). Unlike us, they didn't have a mule team to carry a bunch of gear -- all they had was what was on their backs. He was quite nonchalant about it. We were most impressed, and our biggest photographic regret is not asking him for a picture before he saluted us and carried on his way.
As we got close to the campsite, Jennifer stepped badly on a stone and twisted her left ankle. It wasn't a bad sprain, but it was enough to remind us both that he had to be careful at all times. It would be a very long walk back on a broken leg, or worse.
"Now have shower," Sonam told us when we arrived back at camp. He provided us with two small bowls of "washing water" every morning. We'd already had our daily wash, so we weren't sure we understood what he meant. Then we saw that he'd moved the toilet tent to a clean part of the campsite. The cook brought out a solar shower bag and hung it in was what now the shower tent. A hot shower at 13,000 feet (4,000 meters) -- what a luxury!
After a shower and a hot lunch we had a nap in our freshly aired tent. Everyone seemed to enjoy the break -- even Ice Dog had a bit of a kip in the warm sun.
In the mid-afternoon we took him with us to explore the ruins of the dzong.
Like Rimpung Dzong, this dzong was probably built in the 1600s, when Bhutan and Tibet were at war. It had the inward sloping walls common to Bhutanese fortresses -- a feature that made it not only structurally stable, but also created a useful optical illusion of fearsome height. The fortress had a strategic position over a tributary of the Paro River and commanded a complete view of the valley. Although the dzong lay in ruins, the central tower (utse) still stood. The precision of the masonry work was remarkable, even after more than four centuries since its construction.
As we climbed over the ruins, Patrick flushed out a blood pheasant, which shrieked and dashed through the underbrush right in front of Jennifer. Ice Dog failed to catch it for our dinner.
We knew we'd be headed deeper -- and higher -- into the mountains in the morning. Patrick did his best to scout the way.
By this time we'd realized that the hours between 4:00pm and 8:00pm were the hardest to fill. The wind and clouds always seemed to move in by mid-afternoon, and once the sun dropped behind the mountains the temperature dropped with it. We retreated again to the dining tent and took turns reading to each other from Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss. Much to our pleasant surprise, Sonam came in with a plate of warm cashews! This was the ideal moment for Patrick to break out his 40th birthday present from Jennifer: a steel-and-leather travel bar, eminently suitable for the gentleman adventurer (and his distaff counterpart). He mixed a couple of small gin martinis, and we enjoyed a charming cocktail hour.
Just before dinner we encountered an uninvited guest just outside the dining tent, where we were sorting our gear for our departure the next day.
Soon it was time to climb back into our sleeping bags. The rest day had been good for both body and mind, and we felt ready to tackle the challenges of the next day. If only we had known how difficult those challenges would be....
Distance: 0 (rest day)
Altitude gain: 0 (rest day)
Final altitude: 13,386 feet (4,080 meters)
1 comment:
"We're sure that story will prove useful for a future staff meeting." Now THAT will make an interesting post!
A Travel bar... sweet! If you only had some bows and arrows, you could have fit in the locals!
Post a Comment