We arrived by shared Jeep in Pelling by 9:30am. The Jeep, of course, was full to the brim, at one point we had 12 people, including one man standing on the spare tire rigged to the back door. The Jeep also acted as, not only human transport, but mail service, bringing letters, packages and even verbal messages to the towns along the way.
Pelling isn't as beautiful as Yuksam, but it does offer incredible views of Kanchenjunga, at least until about 11am when the clouds come in. We ate a second breakfast on the terrace of Hotel Kabur while our room was being cleaned (by a ten year old girl named Lakshmi) and noticed that the owners were consumed with an elaborate funeral on television. Later, as we tried to enter a bank and found it closed, we learned from the very helpful man at Pelling Tourism that Sai Baba, the self-proclaimed incarnation of the original and revered Sai Baba of Shirdi, had died the day before and the government had declared a public holiday for his funeral. The entire town was shut down and shrines to Sai Baba were paid tribute by lit candles.
The following day we woke early and began the walk to Pemayangtse Monastery, the most historically significant in Sikkim. Aking the way we stopped for tea at the Lotus Bakery, run by and in support of the Denjong Padma Choeling Academy for orphaned Tibetan children. The Bear had some sweet baked goods, despite the fact that we had already had breakfast in the room (our new habit to save money-we bought oatmeal and use the amazing Jetboil to cook it along with tea).
The road to Pemayangtse was uphill and flanked by wild daises and prayer flags. One bay of flags was captioned by a sign explaining that the flags stood for the alleviation of suffering of all sentient beings. The monastery itself contains three levels, all made from sturdy wood and connected by ladder-like staircases. The top floor was like a transparent arc of relics, holding items historically significant to the place such as drums, hats, animal carvings, shoes and prayer scrolls. The temples of the first and second floors display life-size representations of the various manifestations of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava) and the Buddha himself. The useful offerings were laid out: bowls of water, fruit, rice, money. What most fascinated me were the intricate and mostly fading painting on all of the walls-in the second floor temple the paintings depicted scenes of the historical Buddha's life, and village life centuries ago. A king perched beneath snowy mountains receiving his subjects. Elephants and horses carrying lamas and royalty-once even a decrepit naked man carrying a king. My favorite room, however, was the temple next to the main second floor shrine which showed only paintings of the Buddha, always in siddhasana (the "perfect seat") but with carious mudras and at times accompanied by an animal friend. The hundreds of duplicate Buddhas served as a reminder of the eternal nature of the Great One's teachings.
After leaving the monastery we continued down Geyzing Road to the ruins of Rabdantse, the one time capital of Sikkim which was attacked by Nepalese forces in the 18th century. Lined in stone walls, the scene was remarkably similar to Vysehrad in Prague. We walked the remaining five kilometers to Geyzing past cow stalls, chicken coops and people carrying leaves from the forest on their backs.
In the evening, back in Pelling after yet another blackout, we wandered from hotel to restaurant in search of the traditional Sikkimese millet beer, tomba. It was finally found at a crumbling roadside cafe, Alpine Restaurant, where the only other patrons were four young men smacking their lips with some kind of greasy chicken dish. The drink, which took fifteen minutes to prepare, was served in foot tall bamboo mugs. The "beer" is actually cooked and fermented millet doused in hot water sipped through a bamboo straw fashioned to keep the grains from entering. It tasted more like a warm wine than beer and apparently is meant to be enjoyed for several hours, and the owner was surprised to see us leaving after only fifteen minutes.
The next morning we said our goodbyes to Sikkim, with the hope of possibly returning some day not too far in the future.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Yuksam, the Village of our Future
After spending the day wandering around the quaint, homey village of Yuksam we were ready to buy property and set up a hotel. The village itself sprawls across sloping hills in terrace farms and well-built wooden house. Often, the mist of clouds fails to climb above the peaks and so rests in the valleys giving the town a pleasantly eerie feel. There is a small temple devoted to Guru Padmasambhava, a post office, several shops selling clothing and general goods and a large Tibetan monastery on top of a hill. Goats and chicken inhabit nearly every dwelling and prayer flags are always within view.
We walked down the state highway almost out of town and immediately were inundated with school children just dismissed from the secondary school. A little further down we spotted a gathering of long, white flags and decided to make that our destination. We came to a house, which seemed to be attached to the property that housed the flags and a smiley woman washing clothes said we could pay them a visit. We walked down a tiny path, passed an old man breaking stones, to the heart of the flags which encircled a water tank and then led through a field of baby corn stalks and down to what appeared to be a cemetery or memorial ground. We stood for awhile and enjoyed the silence and few raindrops that had begun to fall.
On the way back into town a small, elderly man called to us from a storefront, "Come here, I want to ask you something." We ended up engaged in a fi\fteen minute conversation with the gentleman who, we learned, is a Hindu retired secondary school teacher who sired ten children with his wife of another caste. "There are only two kinds of people: male and female. Everything else: caste, religion, race, doesn't matter," he told us. He also told us that he had traveled all over India but no place was quite like Sikkim, no place so kind. Although we hadn't yet ventured into the heartland, we had to at that time agree.
We walked down the state highway almost out of town and immediately were inundated with school children just dismissed from the secondary school. A little further down we spotted a gathering of long, white flags and decided to make that our destination. We came to a house, which seemed to be attached to the property that housed the flags and a smiley woman washing clothes said we could pay them a visit. We walked down a tiny path, passed an old man breaking stones, to the heart of the flags which encircled a water tank and then led through a field of baby corn stalks and down to what appeared to be a cemetery or memorial ground. We stood for awhile and enjoyed the silence and few raindrops that had begun to fall.
On the way back into town a small, elderly man called to us from a storefront, "Come here, I want to ask you something." We ended up engaged in a fi\fteen minute conversation with the gentleman who, we learned, is a Hindu retired secondary school teacher who sired ten children with his wife of another caste. "There are only two kinds of people: male and female. Everything else: caste, religion, race, doesn't matter," he told us. He also told us that he had traveled all over India but no place was quite like Sikkim, no place so kind. Although we hadn't yet ventured into the heartland, we had to at that time agree.
Goecha-La Trek Days 8, 9 and 10
Tsokha
We found ourselves back in the comfortable and comforting former Tibetan village of Tsokha. From Tsokha we could see where we came from and where we were going. Our rustic shack stood amidst a Tibetan gompa, chortens, horses, dogs, dzos and happy trekkers and their relentless crews. The cabins are small, wooden with aluminum roofs. Wooden frames enclose yards where animals feed on fresh grass and hay. Prayer flags waver in the thin, misty air and the only sounds are the gas stove and happy chit-chat of our crew. The mountains to the north and south seem infinite, we are swallowed up and humbled by our insignificance.
Sachin
Nearing the end of our journey we spent one last night in the tent, in Sachin where we stopped for lunch on that first, brutally long day. It started to rain after lunch-we ran to our tent for cover but found it to be leaking so I plugged up the holes with toilet paper and the Bear covered the fly with an emergency blanket. The camp was dense, our dinner tent as well as one belonging to another group stood five feet away and the dzos and their poop just across the washing spring. We had to walk down a steep embankment to use the toilet in the woods, along with the horse and dzo poop. I tried not to think about the cleanliness of my boots. The condition of the ground means another hope of practicing some yoga was squashed.
In the morning before trekking down to camp the Bear took a group photo which amused the entire crew. Our cook, Bibi, even changed his shirt for it. The walk down was slow and lovely, the magpies and butterflies following us all the way, and Skorice, the stray dog who had led our way the day before and I had since adopted, brought us all the way down. At one point we were crossing a rickety bridge over a rocky river and Skorice stopped and began barking at something in the woods on the other side. We thought it may be a bear so we shouted and beat sticks on rocks to alert our presence. There was no bear to be found but Skorice did a good job of alerting us to groups of dzos and horses rounding the coming curves.
Yuksam
The night in Sachin was bittersweet: after dinner the crew brought us a cake upon which was written "Happy Trek" and we all crowded into the dinner tent to share the cake and tea. We thought this the best time to give them their tips, though after their gesture, ours seemed cold. Suresh gave a speech about how on the trek we are all family and, me being me, I teared up a little bit. The next day, our last, the Bear gave Suresh one of our flint stones since we noticed that he likes to make small fires on boulders. The Bear showed him how it works and he called the process "magic." The hike back definitely felt like jungle, the heat increasing the closer we got to Yuksam and the flies mixing with my horribly dry skin. Suresh pointed to the jungle on the other side of the river that has not been developed for hiking and said that the place is not for humans, but rather for tigers and bears. We spotted a large bee hive inside a cave on that side, hanging down in thick, loose waves like laundry. Skorice, the dog, followed us all the way to the village of Yuksam and we finally parted ways unceremoniously.
In Yuksam we checked back into the Demazong Hotel, thankfully into a different room, though this one came with a nest of chirping birds right in the hallway in front of the door. The feeling of taking a shower after ten days is indescribable. We each lingered in the steam for much longer than the current water shortages in Sikkim allow. We got to say goodbye to our crew on the main village road, though we didn't really know what to say. It is, after all, just a job for them, without as much sentiment or meaning as it holds for us. All I could say was that I hoped to see them again.
We found ourselves back in the comfortable and comforting former Tibetan village of Tsokha. From Tsokha we could see where we came from and where we were going. Our rustic shack stood amidst a Tibetan gompa, chortens, horses, dogs, dzos and happy trekkers and their relentless crews. The cabins are small, wooden with aluminum roofs. Wooden frames enclose yards where animals feed on fresh grass and hay. Prayer flags waver in the thin, misty air and the only sounds are the gas stove and happy chit-chat of our crew. The mountains to the north and south seem infinite, we are swallowed up and humbled by our insignificance.
Sachin
Nearing the end of our journey we spent one last night in the tent, in Sachin where we stopped for lunch on that first, brutally long day. It started to rain after lunch-we ran to our tent for cover but found it to be leaking so I plugged up the holes with toilet paper and the Bear covered the fly with an emergency blanket. The camp was dense, our dinner tent as well as one belonging to another group stood five feet away and the dzos and their poop just across the washing spring. We had to walk down a steep embankment to use the toilet in the woods, along with the horse and dzo poop. I tried not to think about the cleanliness of my boots. The condition of the ground means another hope of practicing some yoga was squashed.
In the morning before trekking down to camp the Bear took a group photo which amused the entire crew. Our cook, Bibi, even changed his shirt for it. The walk down was slow and lovely, the magpies and butterflies following us all the way, and Skorice, the stray dog who had led our way the day before and I had since adopted, brought us all the way down. At one point we were crossing a rickety bridge over a rocky river and Skorice stopped and began barking at something in the woods on the other side. We thought it may be a bear so we shouted and beat sticks on rocks to alert our presence. There was no bear to be found but Skorice did a good job of alerting us to groups of dzos and horses rounding the coming curves.
Yuksam
The night in Sachin was bittersweet: after dinner the crew brought us a cake upon which was written "Happy Trek" and we all crowded into the dinner tent to share the cake and tea. We thought this the best time to give them their tips, though after their gesture, ours seemed cold. Suresh gave a speech about how on the trek we are all family and, me being me, I teared up a little bit. The next day, our last, the Bear gave Suresh one of our flint stones since we noticed that he likes to make small fires on boulders. The Bear showed him how it works and he called the process "magic." The hike back definitely felt like jungle, the heat increasing the closer we got to Yuksam and the flies mixing with my horribly dry skin. Suresh pointed to the jungle on the other side of the river that has not been developed for hiking and said that the place is not for humans, but rather for tigers and bears. We spotted a large bee hive inside a cave on that side, hanging down in thick, loose waves like laundry. Skorice, the dog, followed us all the way to the village of Yuksam and we finally parted ways unceremoniously.
In Yuksam we checked back into the Demazong Hotel, thankfully into a different room, though this one came with a nest of chirping birds right in the hallway in front of the door. The feeling of taking a shower after ten days is indescribable. We each lingered in the steam for much longer than the current water shortages in Sikkim allow. We got to say goodbye to our crew on the main village road, though we didn't really know what to say. It is, after all, just a job for them, without as much sentiment or meaning as it holds for us. All I could say was that I hoped to see them again.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Goecha-La Trek Day Seven and Eight
After trekking back through the now sunlit Samiti Lake we are a well-deserved breakfast at camp, packed up and started out for Kokchrong. Five minutes into the hike the clear sky that we had been so grateful for showered us with the round, soft-hail-like snow we had become accustomed to at high altitude. Snow and wind blew right in our direction and we shielded our faces with sunglasses and tightened hoods. We met up with the speedy Suresh at Thangsing who told us to go on ahead since I told him I thought I remembered the way down. Luckily, our cook who came before left clear footprints in the snow which we followed closely just to make sure not to meet the fate of the infamous German hiker who, two years earlier, split from his group and was never found.
We descended back into the forest, once covered in lichen, now blanketed in a rich cover of snow. Under forest cover the storm was more bearable and the snowfall lessened the lower we hiked. AT the bottom of the hill the footprints became clearer and the gushing river led us across the three bridges to the three-room loft shack at Kokchrong where we found our faithful dzos munching grass in front and our crew brewing tea for us inside.
We didn't see Suresh again until morning, since he climbed down after dark and then early in the morning climbed back up to Thangsing to retrieve his forgotten camera. The crew got a laugh as we asked for the tent to set up in the drafty room since without it the temperature hovered around eight degrees.
The next morning we set off after breakfast along the short-cut to bypass Dzongri and take us back to Tsokha. We hiked somewhat leisurely to Phedang Meadows through rhododendron forest full of the colorful magpies and blood pheasants we missed at higher trails. Suresh would come and go, sometimes surprising us from the forest above the path where he had scurried to take a picture of a bird or pick up a piece of rubbish left by a thoughtless hiker ("dirty people" he would say). The lower we got the more vegetation we spotted: bright lavender blossoms, the occasional magnolia, or, my favorite, the yet unidentified green patch of shiny moss like a tightly woven fern. Finally, after we passed some fresh trekkers making their way up to Dzongri, whom we envied for their look of naive enthusiasm and their smell of soap and water, we were rewarded with the many rhododendrons that had blossomed while we were up top: hot pink, baby pink, white (which we were told are poisonous), purple, scarlet.
The muddy path became muddier as it started to rain and we covered with ponchos and took our time coming down. Tskoha was a welcome sight, as was the comfy, but still drafty hut where we ate dinner by candlelight and relaxed to the sound of dzos, ponies and cows grazing in the mist below the now far away mountains.
We descended back into the forest, once covered in lichen, now blanketed in a rich cover of snow. Under forest cover the storm was more bearable and the snowfall lessened the lower we hiked. AT the bottom of the hill the footprints became clearer and the gushing river led us across the three bridges to the three-room loft shack at Kokchrong where we found our faithful dzos munching grass in front and our crew brewing tea for us inside.
We didn't see Suresh again until morning, since he climbed down after dark and then early in the morning climbed back up to Thangsing to retrieve his forgotten camera. The crew got a laugh as we asked for the tent to set up in the drafty room since without it the temperature hovered around eight degrees.
The next morning we set off after breakfast along the short-cut to bypass Dzongri and take us back to Tsokha. We hiked somewhat leisurely to Phedang Meadows through rhododendron forest full of the colorful magpies and blood pheasants we missed at higher trails. Suresh would come and go, sometimes surprising us from the forest above the path where he had scurried to take a picture of a bird or pick up a piece of rubbish left by a thoughtless hiker ("dirty people" he would say). The lower we got the more vegetation we spotted: bright lavender blossoms, the occasional magnolia, or, my favorite, the yet unidentified green patch of shiny moss like a tightly woven fern. Finally, after we passed some fresh trekkers making their way up to Dzongri, whom we envied for their look of naive enthusiasm and their smell of soap and water, we were rewarded with the many rhododendrons that had blossomed while we were up top: hot pink, baby pink, white (which we were told are poisonous), purple, scarlet.
The muddy path became muddier as it started to rain and we covered with ponchos and took our time coming down. Tskoha was a welcome sight, as was the comfy, but still drafty hut where we ate dinner by candlelight and relaxed to the sound of dzos, ponies and cows grazing in the mist below the now far away mountains.
Goecha-La Trek Day Seven
From Lamunay
We camped this night in between the cacophony of the river and the silence that hangs around Mount Pandim. It never got above 8 degree Celsius all day and the night, of course, was colder. We decided, with Suresh, that after the Goecha-La trek we would have breakfast at camp and then head for Kokchrong due to my intolerance to the cold and the Bear's high altitude headaches.
From Kokchrong
I never knew cold until this morning standing on top of a 5000 meter Himalayan peak in -14 degrees Celsius. My toes and fingers pained to the touch-no amount of stomping or dancing in place would thaw them. But, as seems to be the mantra of this trip: was it worth it? YES.
We woke at 2:30am, drank hot water as per Suresh's suggestion the night before to combat my cold weather stomach cramps, ate a few small biscuits and stepped outside of our tent into a lunar landscape. The moon, almost a perfect half, shone onto the alpine meadow where we slept and illuminated the paeaks embarcing us. The white of the snowcaps and glaciers gave even more light to our journey, which began at 3:45 with Suresh in lead and the Bear as the caboose. The first hour of the walk was a familiar path of rocky low brush and the clay surrounding Samiti Lake, the only other sign of life for miles the tiny hoof prints of the blue sheep that come to drink its water.We scrambled small rocks and boulders along a skinny ledge over the blue-green water and it felt impossible that anyone other than the three of us existed in the world, or that the world even existed beyond what we could see in front of us. Mount Pandim hovered to the east and we marveled at how, not so long ago, we first spotted the revered mountain from a distance at Tsokha. Suresh told us that in summer months Lepchas come to a small temple carved into the side of the mountain to worship the very peak.
The sky was spotless, turning slowly from midnight blue to gray to cerulean. I was grateful that our hard work was being rewarded with a clear day. After passing Samiti Lake, the course began to climb and we slowed our pace. Near the top of a very steep path of slippery rocks the craggy peak of Kanchenjunga popped over the top of our cliff wall. We climbed higher and more of the range showed itself. The sun, just rising, shone pick in the south along a low cloud shelf that threatened to rise and cover our view, and orange to the north onto the white sheet of peaks. Once the entire range came into view, presented so clearly like an unwrapped gift, I became overwhelmed with tears.
The rest of the path to the main viewpoint teetered along a slippery slope threatening to topple unsteady hikers to the frozen river thousands of feet below. We rounded the most treacherous corner and saw cairns and prayer flags indicating the first viewpoint. At one point I heard thunder and looked with worry to Suresh who pointed out an avalanche at a far glacier, which made the Himalayan experience more real, and yet surreal.
At the top the Bear snapped hundreds of pictures and Suresh passed around hot water and popcorn. I collected rocks for my Dad and a friend and danced my feet away from frostbite. The world, that which existed at that very moment, was silent and full of meaning.
We camped this night in between the cacophony of the river and the silence that hangs around Mount Pandim. It never got above 8 degree Celsius all day and the night, of course, was colder. We decided, with Suresh, that after the Goecha-La trek we would have breakfast at camp and then head for Kokchrong due to my intolerance to the cold and the Bear's high altitude headaches.
From Kokchrong
I never knew cold until this morning standing on top of a 5000 meter Himalayan peak in -14 degrees Celsius. My toes and fingers pained to the touch-no amount of stomping or dancing in place would thaw them. But, as seems to be the mantra of this trip: was it worth it? YES.
We woke at 2:30am, drank hot water as per Suresh's suggestion the night before to combat my cold weather stomach cramps, ate a few small biscuits and stepped outside of our tent into a lunar landscape. The moon, almost a perfect half, shone onto the alpine meadow where we slept and illuminated the paeaks embarcing us. The white of the snowcaps and glaciers gave even more light to our journey, which began at 3:45 with Suresh in lead and the Bear as the caboose. The first hour of the walk was a familiar path of rocky low brush and the clay surrounding Samiti Lake, the only other sign of life for miles the tiny hoof prints of the blue sheep that come to drink its water.We scrambled small rocks and boulders along a skinny ledge over the blue-green water and it felt impossible that anyone other than the three of us existed in the world, or that the world even existed beyond what we could see in front of us. Mount Pandim hovered to the east and we marveled at how, not so long ago, we first spotted the revered mountain from a distance at Tsokha. Suresh told us that in summer months Lepchas come to a small temple carved into the side of the mountain to worship the very peak.
The sky was spotless, turning slowly from midnight blue to gray to cerulean. I was grateful that our hard work was being rewarded with a clear day. After passing Samiti Lake, the course began to climb and we slowed our pace. Near the top of a very steep path of slippery rocks the craggy peak of Kanchenjunga popped over the top of our cliff wall. We climbed higher and more of the range showed itself. The sun, just rising, shone pick in the south along a low cloud shelf that threatened to rise and cover our view, and orange to the north onto the white sheet of peaks. Once the entire range came into view, presented so clearly like an unwrapped gift, I became overwhelmed with tears.
The rest of the path to the main viewpoint teetered along a slippery slope threatening to topple unsteady hikers to the frozen river thousands of feet below. We rounded the most treacherous corner and saw cairns and prayer flags indicating the first viewpoint. At one point I heard thunder and looked with worry to Suresh who pointed out an avalanche at a far glacier, which made the Himalayan experience more real, and yet surreal.
At the top the Bear snapped hundreds of pictures and Suresh passed around hot water and popcorn. I collected rocks for my Dad and a friend and danced my feet away from frostbite. The world, that which existed at that very moment, was silent and full of meaning.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Goecha-La Trek Day Six
Darkness descended over our trek last night as Topden, our guide, was informed by another guide (who had run the entire trip up from Yuksam that day) that his uncle had passed away. This morning Topden set off back to Yuksam where a jeep would take him to Gangtok for the funeral. Our new guide, Suresh, is a Nepali guide and chef with over fifteen years experience, but choppier English than Topden. We bid farewell to Topden and the Bear sent him off with the headlamp he had borrowed a few days before.
Our Czech, Indian and American fellow trekkers work early this morning to trek to Goecha-La in order to save time while we ate breakfast and packed up for Lamunay, a closer camp to the final destination. The previous night in Thangsing was by far the coldest: negative five Celsius in the tent. The Bear had to break open one of our emergency "astronaut" blankets and cover me with it, even so, the cold combined with my aching shoulder prevented me from sleeping more than a couple hours.
Fortunately the path to Lamunay was flat and we got to catch some blue sheep (which aren't anything close to blue) along the way. The snow started the minute we got to camp and it was difficult to emerge from the ten for lunch. Suresh took us on a two hour hike to Samiti Lake, on the way to Goecha-la, to help us acclimate. We climbed to about 4600m to a lake that seemed to exist only for itself and the astounding peaks that are reflected in its surface.
For the rest of the day we rested and wondered what the trek the next day would entail.
Our Czech, Indian and American fellow trekkers work early this morning to trek to Goecha-La in order to save time while we ate breakfast and packed up for Lamunay, a closer camp to the final destination. The previous night in Thangsing was by far the coldest: negative five Celsius in the tent. The Bear had to break open one of our emergency "astronaut" blankets and cover me with it, even so, the cold combined with my aching shoulder prevented me from sleeping more than a couple hours.
Fortunately the path to Lamunay was flat and we got to catch some blue sheep (which aren't anything close to blue) along the way. The snow started the minute we got to camp and it was difficult to emerge from the ten for lunch. Suresh took us on a two hour hike to Samiti Lake, on the way to Goecha-la, to help us acclimate. We climbed to about 4600m to a lake that seemed to exist only for itself and the astounding peaks that are reflected in its surface.
For the rest of the day we rested and wondered what the trek the next day would entail.
Goecha-La Trek Day Five
I have learned not to fully trust the guide book's description of our trek. The 8km descent from Dzongri to Thangsing turned out to be rather a mixture of ascent, rolling hills and one steep and rocky descent through pine and rhododendron forests. The Bear had problems walking quickly and we were soon overtaken by our dzos and crew who had left thirty minutes after us.
The morning began with tea in the tent followed by my new favorite morning ritual of warm bowls of water to clean our faces. It is amazing how quickly your requirements for comfort drop from a bubble bath to a few splashes of water on your face. We ran into Jana and Ivan who were making their way down from the Dzongri viewpoint and getting ready to pack for Thangsing as well. Before setting off we enjoyed a delicious breakfast of oatmeal with bananas, eggs and french fries. The muscle underneath my left shoulder blade that I somehow pulled was really acting up all morning and I could barely lift anything with my left arm. Nothing a little movement couldn't alleviate, however, for once we set off I began to forget about the pain.
We were the last group to set off on the steep, rocky path along the washing spring. At the top of the climb the path cut into a series of rolling hills through alpine meadow and once again we appeared to be chasing Mount Pandim. The trail turned muddy, then icy, then finally began the razor sharp descent back under tree cover. We found feces belonging to the blood pheasant and blue sheep but the only wildlife I spotted was a mouse scurrying across an iced over landslide. At the bottom of the descent we crossed a crystal clear river of snowmelt and then followed the same through vaporous clouds and a rocky scramble. One more tough climb into another lichen-covered forest and a relatively flat plain of boulders and we were in Thangsing, the valley which we had spotted by the Dzongri viewpoint.
The afternoon after lunch was spent in the tent during a snowstorm. As per usual, the Bear slept and I meditated. Meditation is so easy here. The mountains almost beg for it. I can even get in a few moments while waiting for the Bear on the trail. My goal at this point is to ask the mountain gods to guide me to the right place of study for my final month alone.
The morning began with tea in the tent followed by my new favorite morning ritual of warm bowls of water to clean our faces. It is amazing how quickly your requirements for comfort drop from a bubble bath to a few splashes of water on your face. We ran into Jana and Ivan who were making their way down from the Dzongri viewpoint and getting ready to pack for Thangsing as well. Before setting off we enjoyed a delicious breakfast of oatmeal with bananas, eggs and french fries. The muscle underneath my left shoulder blade that I somehow pulled was really acting up all morning and I could barely lift anything with my left arm. Nothing a little movement couldn't alleviate, however, for once we set off I began to forget about the pain.
We were the last group to set off on the steep, rocky path along the washing spring. At the top of the climb the path cut into a series of rolling hills through alpine meadow and once again we appeared to be chasing Mount Pandim. The trail turned muddy, then icy, then finally began the razor sharp descent back under tree cover. We found feces belonging to the blood pheasant and blue sheep but the only wildlife I spotted was a mouse scurrying across an iced over landslide. At the bottom of the descent we crossed a crystal clear river of snowmelt and then followed the same through vaporous clouds and a rocky scramble. One more tough climb into another lichen-covered forest and a relatively flat plain of boulders and we were in Thangsing, the valley which we had spotted by the Dzongri viewpoint.
The afternoon after lunch was spent in the tent during a snowstorm. As per usual, the Bear slept and I meditated. Meditation is so easy here. The mountains almost beg for it. I can even get in a few moments while waiting for the Bear on the trail. My goal at this point is to ask the mountain gods to guide me to the right place of study for my final month alone.
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