The trek that wasn’t

The parking lot at downtown Gasa

24^th April

I guess some things are just not meant to be! 

I hadn’t slept well the previous night, after being woken by the cat walking on me and I felt a bit light headed with tiredness.  I drank my thermos flask of coffee while sitting up in my bed (a mattress on the floor, but it was what I had expected of a farmstay) and then braved the elements and the cold water in the washroom for my morning ablutions.

Downtown Gasa

We were to leave at 7am, BST, and it was a very slow 2-hour journey in the mist in our Bolero – the vehicle of choice for Bhutan’s rural farm roads.  We were finally stopped by large rocks across the road – a landlside from the previous night, so our trek started sooner than expected.  It took us 1.5 hours to walk to Koina, the point where I was anticipating starting our trek, so it was 11am before we left there. 

I was told on the way that drivers do not usually drop walkers at Koina, but this driver had promised to do his best. Hmm, that was not communicated to me when I agreed to attempt the walk in one day.

the view from my bedroom window in the Farmhouse

Lonely planet describes Koina “a muddy bog in the forest filled with ankle-deep sludge. This is the worse camp on the whole (12 day Gasa/Laya) trek”. It certainly does not exaggerate its undesirability and upon seeing it I could understand the reluctance to camp there. 

Gasa Dzong

We continued onwards for another 1.5 hours and I was aware that Sonam and Narwang were discussing, amongst other things, my rate of progress.  I was finding it pretty hard going.  The track was both rocky and muddy and quite steep in places.  For reference, for those that know Tasmania’s southwest, think the eastern side of the Ironbounds at its worst.  I was finding it necessary to think about every foot placement and had no time to enjoy the views or environment.  I asked whether I would make Laya before dark and Sonam said yes, maybe by 5pm. 

The second time I asked he said maybe, did I have the stamina to walk another 6 hours after our lunch stop.  Hmm.  He said maybe the track would improve…maybe. 

Rhododendron undergrowth in coniferous forest

He’d already asked if I wanted to turn back and I contemplated this over lunch – which we ate perched on the side of the trail, and although I was loath to give up, I felt that discretion might be the better part of valour.  There was absolutely nowhere we might sleep between there and Laya and the prospect of walking in the dark did not endear itself to me, and although Sonam said it was not a problem, I felt otherwise. 

The Bolero would go no further!

Lonely Planet gives the distance from Laya to Koina as 19km, that’s a long-ish day in my book without the extra km added by the part of the road we could not drive.  And although Sonam was telling me it was mainly downhill, I was aware that Laya was substantially higher than Koina.  Lonely Planet gives the vertical difference as 1070 m descent from Laya to Koina – somehow that tells me it’s an ascent doing the walk in reverse.  I had not expected the track to be that bad; it’s the main route for villagers from Laya.  I had walked Merak – Sakten and although it was a long day, the path was not consistently hard work in the way that this seemed to be.

Higher peaks in the mist - from the road to Koina

So at 1pm we turned back.  It was still raining but we got back to Koina in much the same time as it had taken us to our lunch stop, although some of the slopes had got muddier.  This was particularly challenging in a couple of places, and my descent was with assistance from both Sonam and Narwang, sometimes with instructions to “put your foot next to mine” in contortions and intertwining of limbs that potentially could add to the repertoire of the karma sutra.

As soon as we were past the worse of the mud, Sonam took off at a run to find somewhere where he could get network signal to summond a Bolero to collect us and to change farmhouse bookings for the night.

Rhododendrons - on the road to Koina

Narwang and I trudged on, a very loud thunder clap overhead made me jump aand the rain became heavier.  The temperature plummeted and the precipitation turned to hail, falling as small marble sized stones at a rate enough to hurt and settling even on the sodden road that we were now walking on.  

The Mo Chhu valley below the trail to Laya

At one point I called for shelter under an excavator arm in order to don my down jacket for thermal and physical protection.  I put my raincoat, now sodden, (so much for gortex) back on over it, knowing at the time that was not the best treatment for my down jacket, but needs must!

On our way back on the trail to Laya

A little further on I paused to observe movement on the edge of the road  - it was a squirrel and it seemed not in the least perturbed by our presence.

We got to the point where we had been walking 3 hours on our return journey, ascending steadily from Koina’s 3050m on return, but there was no sign of the rocks that had stopped our journey to Koina.  I kept going, but slowing down, as I was getting tired, and after another half hour we started descending – neither of us recollected the change of incline and concluded that the road had been cleared of that obstruction.  I tried to get an altitude reading with my camera but it simply was not picking up any satellite information in that narrow valley.  I would hazard a guess that we crested at 3,500m, but it might have been more.  

The road to Koina seen from the trail to Laya
(and yes, we crossed that rive

At one point Narwang had spotted Sonam, but I could not see him.  Another half hour of walking and we met Sonan, who said that the vehicle woudl be there in 50 minutes.  Would I like to walk to a miniscule cave and have tea?  Yes, please.  But sitting was not an option with my sodden raincoat, too much else was getting saturated.

Sonam suggested that we keep walking to keep warm – I certainly needed to do that, and suspected that he did too.

The camp at Koina at the bottom of the valley
seen from the road to Koina, as we were walking

Another hail storm came and I could only think what the weather might be like at 3840m above sea level.  The hailstorm was just getting to the very heavy and uncomfortable when we rounded the corner to a road worker’s blue tarpaulin tent.  These mean and paltry shelters dot the roadside wherever roadworks are in progress and serve as home to the roadwork crew.  In our discomfort, this seemed like luxury!  It was shelter from the hailstorm.

I removed my sodden raincoat and Sonam started to make a fire. Does he have matches? I inquired. No, he would search for some amongst the sparse belongings in the shelter.  I produced some from my pack – like a good boy scout I was prepared for some emergencies!

Narwang standing on the snowy (settled hail) road

It was only minutes before the bolero arrived, and none too soon, the hailstorm had intensified.  It was 5:45pm.

Squirrel

We returned to the farmhouse and an American couple I had met on Dochu La were also there; I had been relocated to the altar room as my sleeping space as I know something of Bhutanese culture (I do show it to the American lady later, when she expressed interest).

I stood by the bukari and declined an offer to sit down; my down jacket is wet in places and I wanted to dry it without squishing it.  I did accept a sweet black tea – it was very welcome.

a brief glimpse of high peaks on our return walk

Narwang had a quiet word to Chado, the farmer who then asked if I would like hot water for a “shower”.  This inquiry received an entuusiatic “yes please” and a large basin was found, half filled with hot water and carried the washroom for me – I took my dreadfully wet muddy socks with me to given them a quick rinse after washing and warming myself. 

After dressing in clean, dry clothes I resumed my down jacket as dinner was ready but we were to be served in the other room, away from Bukari; that was a shame, as I wanted to warm my feet.

The Americans complained about the amount of chilli in the food – I thought it was mild and went asking for ezy to accompany it.

watching the hail fall
from a road  worker's "tent"

After dinner, Chado offered ara – which I was pleased to accept, and given the choice, opted for it warm with local butter.

My raincoat was hung over the bukari to dry overnight, my socks over the guard rail around it.  The cat flap into my sleeping space was blocked;  a “bolt” aka a non-functional gas lighter was provided so I could close the door to my sleeping space.

Blessed sleep!