Sept. 26
I'm writing this ten days into the trip (and finally posting weeks later), cozy in my tent after a rather wet day of hiking. Tomorrow we'll reach a sizable enough village to charge our phones and buy snacks if we so desire, but it will still be a couple weeks until internet (and that's just fine).
So, Bhutan! I sat next to a friendly monk on the plane who shared some insights and opinions on the modernization and environmental stewardship of the kingdom. Upon arrival, a group of us coalesced while we waited for our visa letter to be assessed and PCR tests administered. My tour company is Australian, so the heavy Aussie and Kiwi representation makes sense; there are also two Czech women, a Scottish couple, and me. My assumptions about age and gender were incorrect -- we only have four men, and four people over 50. Everyone is pretty fit but not abnormally so, and I'm surprised to find myself one of the faster hikers.
I know I just came from a living situation where thirteen people shared meals and constantly socialized, but holy shit, these people love to hang out and talk. Everyone is pleasant and interesting, and I enjoy learning about their lives and travels, but I broke down a couple days ago and paid extra for a tent to myself to relish some introvert time.
The scenery so far is stunning and also not what I expected -- we've been above 10,000 feet nearly the whole time but there is lush mossy forest in the lower valleys and bushy tundra-like hillsides at the passes. We've gazed upon expansive river valleys with raging rapids for endless miles. Scads of alpine flowers nod in the breeze, yaks graze in their high summer pastures, brightly spotted butterflies flit across the path, and it doesn't feel we're so very high up. We've camped by glaciers and quietly stalked past a herd of blue sheep. Today we flushed a flock of blood pheasants before crossing an ice-cold river where the bridge was out.
We're the first group of foreigners to travel the Snowman Trek since 2019. Everyone we see smiles and says hello; many people speak English well and welcome us. We visited a remote school with adorable kids who sang us a song about eating too many chili peppers. We even camped next to a prison work crew fixing up an earthquake-damaged old fortress. It was a national holiday and they celebrated the day off with an archery contest and music. We also stopped in to see a yak herder's tent camp. A fragrant juniper fire kept them toasty warm and yak cheese boiled in a giant pot.
The awesome landscape is complemented by our sumptuous camp life. Never before have I arrived to a tent set up with my mattress inflated, my heavy bag having been transported by mule, hot water brought to me for tea and washing my face, and off to the side a little tent set up with a raised toilet seat over a deep hole and copious toilet paper. Our meals are served in a large tent with a long table set with tablecloth, metal utensils, and plastic dishes -- and our cooks come around to serve us and offer seconds. The only remaining shred of dirtbag about me now is my unwashed hair.
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