Bhutan 2014: From Mongar Back to Jakar

The next morning (May 13th) we traveled from Mongar back to Jakar. Our first stop was at a roadside market just below Mongar town.

This was fiddlehead fern season, a treat reminiscent of asparagus. Joan and I enjoyed it several times on this trip.

A local specialty is toasted corn ... a heartier, unadulterated version of corn flakes. Eastern Bhutan grows a lot of corn.

We continued on after Tshering, our guide, bought some items, and began the climb to Thrumshingla, a gradual ascent at first.

Roughly in the vicinity of the Shongar ruins Joan called out for us to stop. She had spotted tigers that she had first seen on our drive into Mongar, two days earlier.

It has been a long tradition in Bhutan to create a small elevated platform in a farm field, where the farmer might sleep (or not) to protect the crops as they near ripeness. Raiders that must be deterred can include creatures up to and including wild hogs. This inventive farmer created or obtained faux tigers to take the day shift. A second one was more in the shade.

Tshering was impressed with Joan's eyesight and spotting skills; these photos were taken at 20x zoom.

In this corn field, or one just down the road, we spotted a yellow-breasted greenfinch.

And within minutes thereafter a fearless oriental magpie robin checked us out.

At sites where there had been quasi-permanent shelters erected for the road repair crews, there were permanent warning signs. (DOR is Department Of Roads.)

Some other roadside signs we remember are, "Shooting Stone" (what in the US would be "Falling Rocks") and "Inconvenience Regretted" ("End Construction"). Joan is fond of a slogan painted on one truck, "Must believe in my selfs."

On this segment of recently repaved road, we took advantage of the pullout and I photographed the leaning tree.

Kaka drove the van higher and higher on our way to the pass. We left the repaved road behind and drove by a cow.

Then fog descended. For several minutes I was concerned that our already modest pace would be slowed further all the way to the top,

but the foggy zone did not last long.

The steep-sided Himalayas often produce rockfalls that sweep away the pavement. Maintaining the national road/lateral highway is a constant struggle, especially during and just after the monsoons.

It requires delivery of stone and sand.

Our weaving along the concave and convex curves of the road was suddenly interrupted by a blood pheasant. I had only a few seconds to take this photo through the windshield. The GIMP helped me reduce the windshield effects.

Sometimes you can see the road ahead,

and sometimes you hope there is a road ahead.

The section leading down towards Ura, the easternmost town in the Bumthang district, stitches together hairpin switchbacks.

The outside of one of these curves was large and grassy, and became our picnic lunch spot. Yum! The big pot is a rice and corn mixture, a specialty of eastern Bhutan.

From our stop we could see the valley town of Ura peeking over a hill (click on the photo to enlarge).

While Tshering and Kaka cleaned and packed up, Joan and I strolled down the road, bird-listening and bird-watching. I did get a picture of a Mrs. Gould's sunbird.

A bypass has largely been finished from just east of Ura to Nangar, on the national highway just south of Jakar. The first few miles were still unpaved, but most of it is new, remarkably straight pavement. Kaka found it boring. Just after we turned onto this bypass, Joan spotted a Eurasian Cuckoo with prey in its beak. It was further away than I would have liked, but I did get a blurry photo. Are you getting the idea that Joan is an excellent spotter? Good.

From Nangar we continued on to Jakar, traversing a section of the highway that we had skipped when hiking from Tharpaling to Jakar. However, today's story was not yet over.

First, when we arrived at the Yu Gharling Resort (Hotel), they assigned us to room 202, not, as our guide Tshering thought he had arranged, a room in the same building as three nights before. A consultation between Tshering and the manager ensued, including the manager's comment about "a large tour group." We decided to take a look at 202, did so, and said it would be OK.

Then as we unpacked we noticed that some spots in the floor flexed, like walking across a trampoline. This wasn't reassuring, but we could walk around them. As we began to clean up, and Joan was undressed, the door between our room and the one adjacent began to open. Our previous room had not had such a suite-creating door. Joan called out "Excuse me!"  and the door-openers shut it. I went over to lock that door, but even with leaning on it and pressing both up and down to take out any slack, it would not latch. The deadbolt was at least a centimeter (perhaps 3/8") out of vertical alignment with the catch.

I pushed a chair against the door and in a position to block the lever-style handle from moving.

Tshering met us at dinner and told us that he would dine tonight with his brother-in-law at the Noryang restaurant. We told him that while, having unpacked, we would remain in 202 for one night, we needed to move for our second night. Tshering said if we packed before we left for tomorrow's activities the staff would move our stuff.

Joan and I had our private dinner. Near the end a woman from a couple of tables away came over, and the usual inter-tourist conversation began. "Where have you been so far?" She talked, and talked some more. Then she asked to sit down, and we said, "Sure." Oops. We were told about how many places she'd been in addition to Bhutan, how many languages she spoke, what an excellent traveler she was, and how clever she was. It was a strictly one-sided conversation. At about the half-hour mark her husband joined us, but her verbal assault did not abate. When the restaurant had emptied Joan and I deployed the "I think the staff needs to clean up" defense, and we both prayed that she would not follow us all the way back to our room. Fortunately she paused at the parting of our routes and Joan and I made our escape. Inside, we laughed at the absurdity of it all, but resolved to keep an eye out and not approach her orbit again.

Tomorrow we would explore more of the Bumthang region, including a hike. Sneak preview: it was a great day.

Bhutan: Nabji

Today's walk is eight or nine miles to Nabji, but without as many challenging ups and downs as yesterday. Here, Tsewang begins a couple of explanations.

The marks along this rock are thought by some to be the writings of dakinis. (Be sure to click on the image to get a better look.)

Here is the stone from behind which Guru Rinpoche is supposed to have conquered a demoness. He also sat and meditated there, hence the name "Guru Rinpoche's Seat."

 One of our many stream crossings.

It's difficult to photograph the small, flitty birds -- they just won't sit still -- but today I snapped this shot, a chest view of a Mrs. Gould's sunbird.

As we walked along  the ridge, the rice fields of Nabji and Korphu grew closer.

The camp crew was well ahead of us, and here we can see the tents below us, although we still had a ways to go.

We passed a decommissioned prayer wheel.

We finally arrive at our campsite.

Now that everybody had arrived at camp, Tsewang laid out the evening schedule. We had all expressed an interest in the traditional hot stone bath, where fire-hot stones are immersed in the water. Before supper there would be time for one bath, at 6:30 (well after dark). The other slots would be after dinner, the fifth and final one being a late 10:00. (The wooden tub would be emptied and fresh water added for each bather, so each slot needed at least 45 minutes.) Tsewang diplomatically had us draw lots, and I drew slot #1. Going first meant that I wouldn't learn from the others, but as it turned out, the only thing I really missed was a timepiece. I had no idea how much time I was using -- would I be dashing up just after getting in, or would I be late for dinner?

Here I am, all 6' 3" of me, warming in the outdoor tub with a fragrant veil of artemisia leaves. The hot stones are along the vacant short side. I opted for a cooler bath than is customary, but still toasty -- I didn't want to be sweating for half an hour after getting out! (The attendant added a few buckets of cold water.) After the stones were removed, having given their thermal all, I was able to stretch out lengthwise.

During bath #2, Joan (who had drawn #5) visited the outhouse, to find a gathering in the alley between the two buildings, glimpsed above. Relatives of the attendants had come to help them refill, and then their friends visited ... Joan informed Tsewang, and soon only one person was in attendance if one of us was in the tub. It became apparent that Joan's slot would be quite late, and she decided to give it a pass. Further, less rustic, opportunities for hot stone baths were taken at Phobjikha (Dewachen Resort) and Paro, although not by yours truly. The Taj Tashi in Thimphu would have also been available but we were very busy there.

The next morning, the porters watched as the trekking crew broke camp. Because it was a short walk that day, and it had been a late night, the morning schedule was pushed back half an hour.