High altitude, low altitude, right attitude
It is always nice to be on the high side, literally or figuratively, except if mountain sickness should hit when physically at high elevation. I believe, in life we should try to have that range, lofty at times and down to earth with feet on the ground as well. Half a month in Bhutan provided that contrast.
Touched down on a now familiar twist and turn landing procedure into Paro airport where the runway is narrower than the wing-tips of the AirbusA320. Ushered into the lounge by Colonel Dorji, ADC of Her Majesty the Royal Grandmother, we had tea while passport control was being taken care of. A palace car was waiting outside, and a pick-up truck for my 200kg of luggage, gifts and mainly household goods for moving into a new writing abode.
It was planned as a writing shed built inside orchard grounds of Namseyling Palace, residence of the late Ashi Rani, mother of Her Majesty. The house is offered to Her Majesty, yet always be available for my use. Thus she has called it as my “second home” during the inauguration with two-full-days of religious blessing of the house back in June. Her Majesty has chosen the location herself, deliberated for a long time before naming this new house Kesang Dechen Ling (Happy Paradise Place) with her name as prefix, and bestowed upon this house an emblem that has long been in her mind.
But somehow this writing shed became a cottage, then a lodge and finally grew in size to a villa with a loft and a lower floor, with two kitchens and a total of four guestrooms. An ornamental shrine with presiding deities was already set up in the living room when I arrived. On the opposite wall hung a birthday gift from Ashi Kesang, of a very nice painting with a symbolic Bhutan map, featuring many places I had visited and animals I had seen, or hope to see like two types of mysterious Yeti.
Gifts from Her Majesty started arriving before I could unpack — apples, persimmons, dragon fruit, jams and marmalade from the Royal Garden, a case of wine, books and a handwritten card of welcome. I am always conscientious that Her Majesty’s graciousness and showering of gifts are out of proportion and far exceeding the small contributions I have made to Bhutan. But I have since learned to accept her gifts without taking anything for granted. Quick set up and decorations provided adequate décor within two days to host a group of eleven guests from the HKU Museum. Everything was so rushed that I had no time to even test-drive the 1990 Jeep Cherokee left for my use. It used to belong to the 4th King, then given to the 5th, with barely 11,000 km on the speedometer.
In the following evening, I joined a private performance by Yo-Yo Ma in the spectacular new Dungkar Dzong above Paro, attended by diplomats, ministers and select guests. At the cocktail reception, I met again the 5th King. “You look the same every time I see you,” said the King. Perhaps it is because I wear the same old Austrian jacket each time we met. “But your grandmother always say I look younger each time, so I must see her more often,” I quipped in reply.
While fetched by everyone for photo ops, Yo-Yo managed to remind me about our discussion two years ago about some form of collaboration regarding ethnic music and culture in China. Wearing his disarming smile, Yo-Yo autographed the program with a generous two-word remark “My inspiration!” that took me to the clouds. Generous as always, he scripted on another program for Miriam in my group, “My fellow cello player. Enjoy.” That took Miriam, also a cello player, with her childhood dream to the summit of Everest. For that formal evening, both Berry and Miriam wore the traditional Bhutanese dress and looked very much at home in this palace/fortress/castle.
I have my own photo op with Ashi Sonam who visited us in Hong Kong last year with her now twelve-years-old Rinpoche son, introducing me to others as the Rinpoche’s best friend. Rinpoche contributed the Foreword to my latest book. Ashi, with degrees from Stanford and Harvard Law, is well qualified to be president of the Bhutan School of Law.
I met Her Majesty on October 1st during a special nine-day religious ceremony at the ancient 7th Century Kyichu Lhakhang, built by Songtsen Gampo, the first unifying king of Tibet. A sumptuous buffet lunch was set up afterward in Her Majesty’s Paro Palace. She again showered each of us in my party with gifts. “You’ve lost some weight Doctor, and looking younger,” Her Majesty said with her soft whispering voice. I have been reminded by my old friend Ashi Kesang, Her Majesty’s granddaughter, to speak slowly and softly. My own failing ears made me raise my voice louder than necessary.
Conversations always repeated itself, with Her Majesty huge memory bank about earlier acquaintances of hers, and explorers that stayed with her family home in Kalimpong decades ago when she was growing up, a most-amazing recounting by a lady of 95 years old. Her affinity for explorers of old was obvious, counting me as last of a species as she opened her hands wide facing up. I tended to concur, especially if we were to talk of the old-fashion die-hard ones still writing with a fountain pen and conduct research through books rather than surfing the internet. Autographing yet another new book to me, I offered my pale green fountain pen to her. “You have given me three pens already, and we exchanged one,” she recalled exactly while I had long lost count.
Lofty I must feel among royalties and celebrity icon of the music world. But bragging rights must abide to other realities too, descending from such pedestal and then ascend to a different height, that in altitude, with feet on the ground.
My original plan to explore west side of Bhutan, a nine-day trek to see the sacred mountain Jomolhari bordering Tibet, was a bit ambitious. I have been on the China side several times over the years, but never see it from the east. Social-climbing eroded my time, thus discounted my real climbing. Plan B to go south into the jungle for five days among wildlife was voted down by Ashi Kesang, my princess friend, who feared the rainy season may inundate us. Plan C, salvaging just a three-day excursion to high country to visit yak herders sound most feasible, despite watered-down. Water down literally, as weather report predicted rain for the following three days. By then, given my fast-changing plans, a 14-horse caravan was reduced to only six available horses, with only two tame enough for riding. Soldiers dispatched became part of our human draught carriers.
The drive in three cars with all our gear to the eastern valley of Haa took around three hours from Namseyling, with a couple stop for photos. This valley is an important community of where it all started to become Bhutan, thus playing host to a 7th Century old Buddhist monastery. We visited the old home of the prominent Dorji family, traditionally prime minister for the King of Bhutan. Her Majesty’s father was a Dorji, and her elder brother Jigme Palden Dorji was prime minister for the 3rd King. He was assassinated in 1964 and the son Benji Dorji, now 82 and retired as Chief Justice of the kingdom prompted me to visit their family home. I took up his offer and had tea there, before retiring to Monk Sonam’s comfortable home.
Following day, we started early. Drove through the valley and up a hill to where the road ends at Dranadingkha Lhakhang monastery. From here, at 3264 meters elevation, our soldiers packed the horses and our team departed into a trail at 9am. We hiked through pine and rhododendron forest, slowly picking our steps through some of the steep inclines with rocks and occasional mud. It was not a proper hiking trail, but one that has been used by herders and their yak. Soon the altitude began to have an effect on us low landers, and we made stops after every twenty or thirty steps in climb as the caravan of load-carrying horses passed us by long ago. I opted to ride on a horse once the passage became manageable.
Around 1pm, we arrived at a kiosk on a crest, just a temporary crest, as more hills were ahead of us. There we let the horses rest, likewise for my tiring legs while having our lunch. We had reached 3824 meters in around 4 hours of steady climb, that was almost 600 meters gain in altitude, not at all easy for someone my age, covering approximately 12 kilometers, but only 2.5 kilometers in a beeline. I marked our route on the iPad topographic map and quietly praised myself as I looked at the contours I have overcome and crossed in just half a day.
After lunch, we started off again, horses ahead of us. By now the going became steadier and the climb more gradual, perfect for getting on a horse, which I did. Another two and a half hours and 300 meters climb in elevation and we reached our final camp at just over 4100 meters. Four tents were set up for the night, with one extra large canopy for cooking and meals for dinner.
My team was tired out, especially the last two hours they were hiking in cold rain, partly frozen and all drenched. We have ill-prepared ourselves for the sudden weather change. I decided right then that, looking at the cloud-covered sky, we must descend in the morning, rather than continue our hike to an alpine lake. A bon fire was started as soldiers went around gathering firewood. It provided warmth during dinner and for the evening. I started thinking of the sumptuous buffet Her Majesty set out for us in Paro Palace two days ago, while our cook prepared a slow-cook dinner at high altitude with rarefied air. After dinner, my team, exhausted from the long-day hike, turned in early. Joceline, my Filipino chef from Hong Kong who doubled up as our Palawan project manager took painkillers to alleviate her accelerating headache, a side-effect of the high elevation. Heavy rain started middle of the night, accompanying us throughout to the morning.
I came up to such elevation in order to be with the yak herders, yet no traces of them were seen, except a few around our lunch kiosk meadow. But in the morning, we were rewarded with one consolation prize. As the fog lifted, a large herd of Blue Sheep started appearing on the hill to our right maybe 400 meters away. They were grazing, perhaps over thirty in number, gradually going lower and lower toward our camp, eventually reaching to barely 200 meters from us. Several large males, also known as Bharal, sported large side-protruding horns. The ewes, with much smaller horns, made up much of the rest of the herd, with a few year-old calves.
I recalled a friend, the preeminent wildlife biologist George Schaller’s seminal study of high mountain ungulates, including the Blue Sheep in one of his early books Mountain Monarchs, about these big-horn sheep of the Himalayas with a Blue Sheep on the cover. My own pursuit to have a first look of these timid animals came after exploring the Tibetan plateau for over ten years, finally seeing them for the first time in 1996 in the Qilian Mountains. In the later years however, with wildlife protection well in place in China and throughout much of Asia, I saw them more often, even at close range throughout the Tibetan plateau and in the Arjin Mountains of Xinjiang. But this was the first time I encountered them in Bhutan, and at such close range. It comes to show how animals and us humans are now friendly neighbors and can live happily together.
We started our descent of the mountain soon after breakfast, through occasional rain, and no shine. While the descent was easier on our breathing due to gradual lowering in altitude, it posted some discomfort for my knee resulted from fifty years of extensive field work. We managed to reach our starting point as the rain intensified. Back to Monk Sonam’s home, everyone was exhausted and longing for a shower. I waited till the evening to take an authentic Bhutanese stone bath.
That night, a continuous thunderstorm hit the entire kingdom. We comforted ourselves that we decided to leave the mountain a day early. High country encountered snowstorm and was covered with a layer of white. At low elevation, Bhutan experienced flash flooding, landslides, and many roads were closed throughout the country. We left Haa early morning, hoping to make our way back to Paro safely. Her Majesty was rightfully worried about our situation with her ADC calling our team several times, making sure we could get through the mountain. Rain stopped by mid-morning, and we got back to Paro after a three-hour drive.
Along the way, we stopped at Chele La (pass) for teabreak at a make-shift debilitated truck which I thought can become a future CERS improvement project. We were lucky to see a few Blood Pheasants and a flock of beautiful Kalij Pheasants. Near a nunnery beyond the Chele La (pass), I stopped to take a few pictures of the cliff-hanging nunnery where I had twice visited. Upon leaving, I chanced upon two Himalayan Langurs on a pine tree within 50 meters from my path. Such encounters always brighten my day, despite facing some brutal weather.
We made it back to my “second home” at Namseyling Palace in time for celebration the following day of the Mid-Autumn Festival. On that day, we hosted my Bhutanese friends over for dinner, also to celebrate Bhutan’s establishment of diplomatic relations with the Philippines. Our Filipino team member Joceline was on hand to make a toast of champagne with mooncake we brought from Hong Kong to share with our Bhutanese friends under a perfect full moon. The next day, Her Majesty offered yet another royal lunch for me in her Paro Palace, with a full buffet under a garden tent. More gifts were bestowed on me and my team members.
Indeed, we have been at high and low altitude, both figurative and literal. But with the right attitude, we can embrace the upside fortune, as well as overcome any downside fortitude. Bhutan is the perfect place to induce a positive attitude, with its creation and focus on GNH, Gross National Happiness. Should anyone have an attitude problem, come to Bhutan, for a natural fix-it.