Day 4: Jongkhar to Dongtse

Our final day of hiking was short and sweet and sunny. We woke up in old staff housing of Jongkhar Primary School, had breakfast at the principal’s house, packed up, and left. After falling into our various walking strides, we were soon a caravan of travelers on our way towards the town of Dongtse, where there would be a bus to take us back to Trashigang.

A last look at Jongkhar.

During the brief three hours of walking, we passed several groups of travelers. The election was in a few days so teachers and support staff were on the move. In Bhutan, since teachers are an educated group of people, they are the ones who work the elections. The teachers at my school were posted in towns close to Kanglung, towns they could drive to, but other teachers had to make the multiple-day trek to Merack and Sakteng and towns even more remote. I’ve heard that teachers prefer to be posted in remote towns far away from where they live as that equates to more money. Besides groups of teachers, we also passed groups of policemen with big guns slung over their backs. They work the elections as well by keeping the peace. It was hard for us to fathom the kind of activity that would necessitate the presence of a gun taking place in Bhutan. Guns just aren’t normally seen in this country.

For some of the trail I walked with Scott. Each time we passed a different group, we stopped for a bit and chatted. We imagined the same was happening for the whole group, especially the ADEO. As we walked over a smaller suspension bridge, I noticed an older Brokpa lady walking behind us. Shortly after the bridge was a steep uphill and at first, I tried to power up it at relatively the same pace I had been walking. But it was of no use. I had to rest in the middle, sweating and panting. Instead of passing us right away (Scott was being nice and waited for me), the older Brokpa lady – she might have only been in her 50s but she looked like she was in her 70s – paused behind us where we stopped. I think she was genuinely worried about me, maybe wanted to see that I would be okay. I made the motion for her to pass. After giving us a last look that seemed to ask, ‘Are you sure?’ she passed us and continued to motor on up the steep hill. The Brokpa people, who’ve walked their whole lives, are so strong and fast.

As was usual, at some point, Scott got ahead of me as well. I always enjoy walking with him, but I know I hold him back. The last stretch of walking was short but it was, for the most part, uphill, sometimes in the hot sun. The thing that kept me in good spirits was knowing that it would be over soon. And it was. I had no idea it was coming. I was just walking and walking, sometimes waiting on the side to allow a horse to pass, and I got to the top of a hill and the next step was onto blacktop. I had made it to the road, to the spot where people start the journey to Sakteng coming from the other direction. It was a startling transition, one tinged with happiness for a journey completed and sadness knowing that what we had been looking forward to for weeks was actually over.

A few meters in front of me was Scott, Sonam, and Phurpa sitting under a small piece of shade. Shauna was further up ahead under another patch of shade. I joined the group, set my bag down, and waited for the rest of the group to join us.

Julian landing on the oh so startling blacktop.

To mark the official end of the trek, our group took one more picture in front of the gate of the Dongtse Secondary School, where a bus was waiting for us.

The campus of Dongtse Secondary School.

The town of Phongme.

Along the way, the bus stopped at this tap which supposedly let out blessed water. I got out to get a few drops of it but the tap was busy with a boy taking a bath.

The drive between Phongme and Rangjung was stunning with terraces all along the hillsides.


Before Trashigang, our group stopped in Rangjung to say hi to BCF teachers Vicky and Ian and to visit the famous monestary and temple there.

Looking down on Rangjung. As Rangjung was planned before it was built, notice the sidewalks, a luxury most Bhutanese towns do not have.

The lakhang at the Woesel Chholing Monastery.


I think this was the only picture of the two of us taken on the trip.

Inside the temple.

Day 3: Sakteng to Jongkhar

After the most terrible day of hiking ever, it couldn’t get any worse. I knew that. The next day, I was still exhausted from not sleeping that well, but the sun was out and there was a town to be explored. After breakfast cooked by school staff members, Scott and I set out to see Sakteng.

The whole town was full of these cobbly narrow streets.

We walked on a small knob above town.

And watched as a caravan of yaks came walking in. Right outside the town is farmable land where the Brokpa people grow and harvest buckwheat.


Scott Harris showed a group of Sakteng students a photo of themselves.

Lisa, the brokpa. Usually I hate doing this sort of thing - wearing the clothes of other groups of people as if it's a costume - but when we saw the hats for sale at a nearby shop, I couldn't resist. These hats are woven with yak fur. The tendrils allow a convenient place for rain to drip off from, keeping the wetness away from the face.


The whole group above Sakteng. In the photo is one extra person, a teacher at Sakteng, who has actually spent a little time in the states and studied at the Teton Science School in Wyoming. Him and Scott had a lot to talk about as Scott had attended that school in his younger days.

Again, we got a late start to the day’s hike, leaving Sakteng around 10:30. Walking out of Sakteng, I had the same feeling as I did walking from Merak – I didn’t want to leave. Most of the group didn’t either, but we were on a schedule and had plans to sleep at the primary school in Jongkhar that night.

Everything was so green and bright.

Scott became a big fan of umbrella-assisted hiking, as did others in the group. Notice how it wasn't raining.


At the first pass out of the Sakteng, there was a group of local brokpa people. They had with them mats to sit on and various drinking containers and thermoses. I assumed they were on a picnic as it was such a gorgeous day and Bhutanese love their picnics. But I was wrong. It was a goodbye tea party for our group. Apparently, a small group of locals will do this for every group of visitors that leaves Sakteng. So we put out packs down, sat down in the sun, and enjoyed bowls full of ara or tea or soda, and our last glimpses of Sakteng. It wasn’t until after 11 that we really started our day’s walk.



Last glimpse before Sakteng disappeared into the valley.

This day of hiking was the total opposite of the previous day’s. There was no rain and for most of the hike we followed a river that seemed to calm any leftover nerves I might’ve had. I loved the backdrop of the rushing water as I walked the easy trail at a good pace. There were, of course, some steep uphills, but without the altitude, they were a lot more manageable. I recall just feeling gloriously healthy and happy. My attitude had done a 180 and I was relieved.


And I thought my bag was heavy.



The gents took a dip in what they described to be as pretty cold water.

Right before dusk, I arrived at a row of prayer flags and saw Scott and Jean Daniel sitting and waiting. We had arrived in Jongkhar. We waited for the rest of the group before we made our way to the school.

Jongkhar Primary School, where we spent our last night on the trail.

Day 2: Merack to Sakteng

I wish I could say the day ended in the same happy tone as it began, in the same bright sunshine and high spirits. But I cannot lie. The day did not end like that.

But let's start with how it began.

Our group awoke early and were soon greeted by students. While most school's are out of session due to the election, Merack's school is not. So, being a weekday, the students came. With no school uniform, the students wear their own National Dress. The boys were clad in red, wool ghos (shorter than the traditional ghos worn around here) cinched at the waist with a belt, track pants, and blue rubber boots.

The girls were wearing beautiful, intricate woven maroon jackets with pale red kiras underneath and rubber boots or rubber sandels. The girls wear a large rectangle of black wool on their backside below their waist. Most of the students carry woven bags to hold their books.

After social work, the students rushed the tap to rinse their plates. Most boys carry their plates tucked inside their ghos. It was time for breakfast - rice with a little bit of chana mixed in.

The town of Merack is all stone houses. Yak herder dogs, yaks, and cows roam the surroundings.

Merack's primary school is a lot less well off than Sakteng's. In Merack, students have to sit on the floor until class 5. Only class 5 and 6 have furniture. After assembly, where each member of our group had to introduce ourselves and offer a piece of advice, all the students got together for a whole school picture.

This is outside one of the classrooms after classes had started. It reminded me of a Wrangell potluck.

Since we were traveling with the ADEO, who saw this trek as an opportunity to do some work in schools around the district, we did stay for the entire morning routine at Merack, which meant we didn't start our day's walk until around 10:30 am.

As we were leaving, it was such a gorgeous, blue sky, sunny day, I couldn't help but stop and look back at Merack many, many times. I didn't want to leave.





But for every time I stopped, most of the group kept getting further and further ahead.

One last look at Merack.

The beginning of the day's walk was strenuous for me. I was feeling the altitude so every step up felt like a tremendous struggle. We had anticipated a pass at 3,800 meters, thinking that was the highest we were going, but we were wrong. The trail kept ascending and before we knew it, we were at 4,300 meters, over 14,000 feet, the highest we'd go for this trek. Jean Daniel had brought a string of new prayer flags, which we all signed and hung.

At the pass, we had a view of grazing yaks. I wish I could say the rest of the hike was smooth sailing, but as I've mentioned above, it wasnt. I didn't take any pictures during the miserable parts. Usually Scott does that. He likes to capture me at my most pained.


There was lots of mud (I even wore my x-tra tuffs for a stretch of the hike), rain, sleep slopes of loose rocks, lots more uphill, a walk through a river bed. That last thing wasn't so bad. We came across a camp and a man straining some milk.


The last uphill was pure torture. A tortoise would've beat me up. I recall the ADEO saying, "We're so close. Even if you were to lay down, you'd still make it." The ADEO had never done this trek before, so I knew he had no clue. I wanted to punch him. That uphill lasted an hour at least. Once we got to the top, it was still at least another hour to Sakteng town. And it was getting dark. We had stupidly, due to the decisions of our guide and host, started the hike so late in the morning, and there we were with night quickly approaching, darkness falling, and still another hour to walk. To make matters worse, it started to rain again. Darkness, rain, not knowing where you're going - a great combination for hiking hell, at least for me.

By the time we reached the school, I was soaking wet, every inch of my 30-year-old body ached, and my spirit was deflated. It took everything I had to pretend like I was happy to be there, and I don't think I did a very good job.