PARO Bhutan

Christmas in Bhutan

After a visit to the Folk Heritage Museum in Thimphu on Christmas morning Judy and I traveled to Paro, the small town in one of the broadest of Bhutan's valleys. Every air passenger to Bhutan arrives and departs through Paro airport, the only one in the country. The Druk Air flights curve in an ascending or descending series of turns between forests and villages, skirting steep -sided mountains. No radar or directional signals are useful in such a non-linear situation and the pilots are dependent on visual flight rules. When I asked how the pilots determine when the conditions are safe, my gaze was directed to a monastery on the top of a mountain just northeast of Paro: when this is visible, the weather is acceptable. What better than this in a Himalayan Buddhist Kingdom?

The Tiger’s Nest

We hadn't come to Paro to fly, but rather to walk to the Taktshang Goemba, the most famous of Bhutan's many Buddhist monasteries. Guru Rinpoche flew to this holy site on the back of a tigress in the 8th century, giving it its name, The Tiger's Nest. The monastery buildings are perched on the sheer side of a rock face 900 meters above the floor of Paro valley. According to the guidebook, the original building was held to the rock by the hairs of female celestial beings who also carried the materials to build monastery on their backs.

From the car park, the only access to the monastery is by foot or horse. A few western tourists with guides walked the path, but most of the travelers were Bhutanese and Tibetan families on pilgrimage, with little ones making the 2-hour one-way journey without complaint. Starting in silent blue pine forest, walking on a thick carpet of pine needles and between huge granite boulders strewn about, the path rose gradually to a small glade where a water-turned prayer wheel chimed the rippling passing of a small stream. The three shaded shrines, the sound of running water and bells in the absence of people made the setting that much more conducive to the presence of "other beings”. From that point, the trail rose in steep switchbacks and the blue pines gave way to mixed broad leaf oak, holly, and rhododendron forest thickly laced with spanish moss.

Some journeys achieve their power by making the pilgrim wait for the splendid revelation of the goal until the final bend in the road. From the beginning, from the road outside Paro, every lowly pilgrim has the Taktshang Goemba in view. As the path opens at certain places and the details of the rock face make evident the improbability of finding such a building plastered to the side of the mountain, one's appreciation grows and the fatigue of the climb diminishes, spurring one on forward

Just when the monastery seems within an easy biscuit toss from across a ridge at an elevation of 3140 meters, the path descends into the chasm of an icicled waterfall before the final ascent along the cold mountain wall to the dank buildings. I have little appreciation for Buddhist iconography--the names and stories confuse me. Judy feels little different, so we didn’t spend time in the cold monastery buildings. We retraced our steps to enjoy a seat in the brilliant sunshine and eat a picnic lunch on the ledge across the chasm that had on our approach enticed us with such a magnificent view. A perfect place to savor hard-boiled eggs, crackers, and tangerines, lightening our load for a leisurely descending stroll.

Riding the Himalayas Down

Our friend, Nicola, had suggested a 14 kilometers bike ride, from Paro into the mountains to visit the ruins of the Drukgyel Dzong. The prospect of riding into the Himalayas, to the head of the trail that leads into Tibet, seemed a suspect Sunday activity for a couple of middle-aged women, neither of whom particularly fancy uphill cycling. Nicola assured us it was an easy road, though we didn't realize until later that she hadn't herself made the ride.

It was still frosty at nine when we picked up the bikes at the shop, (contact: Kuenga, cell: 17684660) donned helmets and gloves and headed north up the Paro valley. The heavy mountain bikes were in fine shape, but within a minute, we realized that the hard seats would cause far most lasting discomfort than sore legs from pumping uphill. Once outside Paro town the traffic on the one lane road thinned. Drivers politely honked to show that they saw us. To a person, they made good on the biker's ideal of sharing the road.

After about 7 kms the farms gave way to forest, the same blue pine forest we had walked through on the way up to the Tiger's Nest. The road steepened, but still didn't require a full-out effort or the lowest gears. At this point the road conditions improved due to less use, and though the sun had become warm, the forest held a lovely coolth. Having gained some altitude, we also had more curves, buzzing around them with only the hum of tires on dry pavement. Coming into a clearing south of Jetshaphu village the solid white cone of Jhomolhari (7314 meters, Bhutan's second highest peak) came into view between the peaks of closer mountains. Though we hadn't climbed more than a several hundred meters in altitude, seeing that tall mountain’s perfect cone so close made us feel we'd accomplished something of merit.

Drukgyel Dzong

Another couple kilometers and a short pedal to the village of Drukgyel Dzong, we reached the end of the road. And there, across the rice fields, perched on a rise were the ruins of the 17th century Dzong. The name comes from Druk--Bhutan, and gyel--victory. The Dzong had been built to celebrate the victory of Bhutan over Tibetan invaders in 1644.

The building's characteristic Dzong white wash has weathered away over its 50 years of disuse after a fire destroyed its inner buildings. It has all the appearance of a medieval European fortress with the buildings of its village neatly assembled around it within easy reach for needed protection. Walking up to the ruins, around the intact outer walls, and approaching the inner courtyard through the bent entrance, I saw shades of crusader castles, especially Krak de Chevaliers in Syria, with its similar strategically defensive architecture. The courtyard had a similar layout to those of other dzongs we had seen. Except for the remains of the central tower, little remained of the inner buildings, though the deep prisons in the bowels along the outer walls for holding Tibetan prisoners looked particularly cold and unhealthy.

We saddled up for the ride down to Paro in brilliant noon sun. After a stop for tea at the Amancora resort where we were given gracious hospitality among its luxurious surroundings despite our inauspiciously sweaty clothes and disheveled appearance, we sailed down the mountain, coasting against the wind, feeling very pleased with ourselves and our Himalayan adventure.