Yongphula Moth Sanctuary
In honor of Lord Buddha’s First Sermon (which took place in Nepal), Scott and I went hiking while most of Bhutan was in a temple chanting the same thing over and over so that this certain phrase was said at least a billion times.
In Bhutan, there are two choices for hiking – up or down. Even though there were clouds in the sky – after all it is monsoon season; it’s nearly impossible to find a day without clouds – we still decided to go up. We started on the same trail that leads to Yongphu, but passed Yongphu and headed to Yongphula, another half hour up.
Yongphula is home to an army base, a beautiful temple, and what’s scheduled to be Bhutan’s newest airport – if it ever actually opens. Currently the country only has one airport located in the western town of Paro. Three other airports are slated to open – one in the center of the country in Bumthang, one in the south, and one in Yongphula, which would give the world easy access to the much less touristed eastern side. Several opening dates of the Yongphula airport have come and gone – April 2010, July 2010, October 2010, April 2011, July 2011, and now October 2011… Scott doesn’t think the airport will open before we leave in December.
We’ve made several trips to the airstrip, just to check it out. Located next to the Yongphula “lake” above the (pretty much defunct) golf course, the airstrip is a popular location with the locals as well. Yongphula has a lot of wide, open spaces, something that is pretty rare in this country, which is a prime reason Bhutanese are drawn there – the picnicking opportunities! Bhutanese love to picnic. (I realize I’m generalizing, but this may the truest stereotype to ever exist). They love packing a plastic basket full of insulated food containers containing tons of rice, ema datsi (chilli curry), and kewa datsi (potato curry), along with thermoses of tea and oftentimes plastic bottles of ara, and sitting on the ground somewhere. It doesn’t have to be an idyllic locale with amazing scenery. Bhutanese could pop a squat on the side of a dirt road and have a perfectly happy picnic. It’s something to really love about this country.
The day of Lord Buddha’s First Sermon, which took place last Wednesday, was a perfect day for a picnic, even though the clouds were threatening and it even started to rain around 11:30. People carrying rice cookers and plastic mats still milled around the airstrip looking for a good spot to eat lunch. Some chose their picnic spot by the “lake” (I keep putting quotations around this word because people around here call it a lake, but to Scott and I, it looks more like a glorified puddle. Supposedly, years ago, the lake was bigger, deeper, and clearer before the deity that was watching it went away.) while others just sat, circled around the food, right on the tarmac.
Our goal for the day was to get on the ridge above the airstrip. We had gone a couple months ago but it had been cloudy. On this day, we were hoping for a break in the clouds.
Since we had to pass the terminal building to get to the ridge, I insisted we go in. Each time we’ve visited the airstrip since moving to Kanglung, the airport has been at various stages of being done. I had heard that the luggage carts were there and, for this visit, I wanted to see them – more evidence that the Yongphula Airport would, indeed, one day be functional hub for travel.
As we walked toward the terminal, we could hear voices. Soon, we saw faces staring out from the second floor. At first, we thought they were kids using the terminal as a personal fort, but we then realized they were adults. Through the glass doors and front windows, we could see the luggage carts inside as well as hundreds of moths. The Yongphula Airport Terminal has temporarily become a moth sanctuary. I tried opening the front door and it easily gave way. A man who was upstairs came down to check us out. In the most friendly, curious way, he trailed us as we inspected some of the most amazing moths we’ve ever seen.
Here is a small sample of the moths that have made the Yongphula Airport Terminal their home and, in some cases, their final resting place:
Even though the rain had subsided, the fog was still present and it seemed to be encroaching more and more on the ridge, covering it up almost entirely. Scott and I decided to go walk on the road a bit before, perhaps, turning around to go home. It didn’t seem like the weather was cooperating with out plans to hike on the ridge. From the road, we saw a clearing high above the airstrip, a spot we hadn’t explored when we were up there last. We picked a spot on a farm road and had our version of a picnic lunch – no fancy insulated food containers or thermoses of tea; just a good old Tupperware full of food, two spoons, and a nalgene full of water. As we walked back towards the airstrip to take the trail back to Kanglung, the clouds parted revealing a hot, bright sun. The ridge was exposed. We headed up.
The beginning of the way up is through a tree farm where light barely hits, so most of the way was deep mud. Beyond the tree farm was more slick mud and lots of wet brush. I showed my bravery a couple of times, squealing at the sight of one leech, then another, on my pants. I managed to pick the slippery suckers off me before any blood was shed, but Scott wasn’t as lucky. It wasn’t until hours later when we were back home from the hike that Scott noticed a deep red welt above his heel, evidence of an unnoticed leech.
Although I had my doubts as to the way we were getting there, we did finally reach that clearing we had seen from the road. A meadow of grass, and grazing on the grass were zoes (half cattle-half yak), horses, and sheep. Scott commented on how the area would be a great camping spot.
We walked among the peaceful animals looking at the view and noticed a few herders’ camps beyond us. Scott walked a little further than I did and enticed the barking of three black yak herder dogs. The sound didn’t surprise us. Where there are herds and camps set up, there is usually a protective, vicious dog to go along. (This is the same type of dog that, earlier this year, assaulted Scott in a very delicate part of his body.) Since there was more than one camp, there was more than one dog. The barking sounded far away in the distance. We weren’t worried. We took our time walking among the animals. One sheep baah-ed at us, and I baah-ed back. At this point, one of the yak herder dogs, who had, just moments before, sounded so far away, was much, much closer, barking and advancing toward us. It wasn’t charging at us, but it was definitely running. Scott and I backed away immediately. We didn’t run away, but we were definitely walking quickly. At one point, Scott even held his backpack above his head to show the dog that we’d fight back. As we continued to retreat, my fear subsided. Yes, the dog was barking, but he seemed to keep a distance. But then, two more dogs appeared in view. The first dog had called for back-up. So now, there were three dogs advancing towards us and one backpack to fight back with no longer meant anything. We kept up our non-running pace away from the animals the dogs were protecting. We dropped down lower and lower and, finally, the barking dissipated. We were safe.
Suddenly, a muddy, slick trail and leeches were nothing compared to the thought of being attacked by yak dogs.
By the time we got back to Kanglung, the sun was out in full blast, beating down hard on us. I insisted on the long way home, welcoming the sun to burn us. We dropped down to the main road and on the way home had a cold coke and a plate of hot chili chops.
In Bhutan, there are two choices for hiking – up or down. Even though there were clouds in the sky – after all it is monsoon season; it’s nearly impossible to find a day without clouds – we still decided to go up. We started on the same trail that leads to Yongphu, but passed Yongphu and headed to Yongphula, another half hour up.
Yongphula is home to an army base, a beautiful temple, and what’s scheduled to be Bhutan’s newest airport – if it ever actually opens. Currently the country only has one airport located in the western town of Paro. Three other airports are slated to open – one in the center of the country in Bumthang, one in the south, and one in Yongphula, which would give the world easy access to the much less touristed eastern side. Several opening dates of the Yongphula airport have come and gone – April 2010, July 2010, October 2010, April 2011, July 2011, and now October 2011… Scott doesn’t think the airport will open before we leave in December.
We’ve made several trips to the airstrip, just to check it out. Located next to the Yongphula “lake” above the (pretty much defunct) golf course, the airstrip is a popular location with the locals as well. Yongphula has a lot of wide, open spaces, something that is pretty rare in this country, which is a prime reason Bhutanese are drawn there – the picnicking opportunities! Bhutanese love to picnic. (I realize I’m generalizing, but this may the truest stereotype to ever exist). They love packing a plastic basket full of insulated food containers containing tons of rice, ema datsi (chilli curry), and kewa datsi (potato curry), along with thermoses of tea and oftentimes plastic bottles of ara, and sitting on the ground somewhere. It doesn’t have to be an idyllic locale with amazing scenery. Bhutanese could pop a squat on the side of a dirt road and have a perfectly happy picnic. It’s something to really love about this country.
The day of Lord Buddha’s First Sermon, which took place last Wednesday, was a perfect day for a picnic, even though the clouds were threatening and it even started to rain around 11:30. People carrying rice cookers and plastic mats still milled around the airstrip looking for a good spot to eat lunch. Some chose their picnic spot by the “lake” (I keep putting quotations around this word because people around here call it a lake, but to Scott and I, it looks more like a glorified puddle. Supposedly, years ago, the lake was bigger, deeper, and clearer before the deity that was watching it went away.) while others just sat, circled around the food, right on the tarmac.
Our goal for the day was to get on the ridge above the airstrip. We had gone a couple months ago but it had been cloudy. On this day, we were hoping for a break in the clouds.
Since we had to pass the terminal building to get to the ridge, I insisted we go in. Each time we’ve visited the airstrip since moving to Kanglung, the airport has been at various stages of being done. I had heard that the luggage carts were there and, for this visit, I wanted to see them – more evidence that the Yongphula Airport would, indeed, one day be functional hub for travel.
As we walked toward the terminal, we could hear voices. Soon, we saw faces staring out from the second floor. At first, we thought they were kids using the terminal as a personal fort, but we then realized they were adults. Through the glass doors and front windows, we could see the luggage carts inside as well as hundreds of moths. The Yongphula Airport Terminal has temporarily become a moth sanctuary. I tried opening the front door and it easily gave way. A man who was upstairs came down to check us out. In the most friendly, curious way, he trailed us as we inspected some of the most amazing moths we’ve ever seen.
Here is a small sample of the moths that have made the Yongphula Airport Terminal their home and, in some cases, their final resting place:
Even though the rain had subsided, the fog was still present and it seemed to be encroaching more and more on the ridge, covering it up almost entirely. Scott and I decided to go walk on the road a bit before, perhaps, turning around to go home. It didn’t seem like the weather was cooperating with out plans to hike on the ridge. From the road, we saw a clearing high above the airstrip, a spot we hadn’t explored when we were up there last. We picked a spot on a farm road and had our version of a picnic lunch – no fancy insulated food containers or thermoses of tea; just a good old Tupperware full of food, two spoons, and a nalgene full of water. As we walked back towards the airstrip to take the trail back to Kanglung, the clouds parted revealing a hot, bright sun. The ridge was exposed. We headed up.
The beginning of the way up is through a tree farm where light barely hits, so most of the way was deep mud. Beyond the tree farm was more slick mud and lots of wet brush. I showed my bravery a couple of times, squealing at the sight of one leech, then another, on my pants. I managed to pick the slippery suckers off me before any blood was shed, but Scott wasn’t as lucky. It wasn’t until hours later when we were back home from the hike that Scott noticed a deep red welt above his heel, evidence of an unnoticed leech.
Although I had my doubts as to the way we were getting there, we did finally reach that clearing we had seen from the road. A meadow of grass, and grazing on the grass were zoes (half cattle-half yak), horses, and sheep. Scott commented on how the area would be a great camping spot.
We walked among the peaceful animals looking at the view and noticed a few herders’ camps beyond us. Scott walked a little further than I did and enticed the barking of three black yak herder dogs. The sound didn’t surprise us. Where there are herds and camps set up, there is usually a protective, vicious dog to go along. (This is the same type of dog that, earlier this year, assaulted Scott in a very delicate part of his body.) Since there was more than one camp, there was more than one dog. The barking sounded far away in the distance. We weren’t worried. We took our time walking among the animals. One sheep baah-ed at us, and I baah-ed back. At this point, one of the yak herder dogs, who had, just moments before, sounded so far away, was much, much closer, barking and advancing toward us. It wasn’t charging at us, but it was definitely running. Scott and I backed away immediately. We didn’t run away, but we were definitely walking quickly. At one point, Scott even held his backpack above his head to show the dog that we’d fight back. As we continued to retreat, my fear subsided. Yes, the dog was barking, but he seemed to keep a distance. But then, two more dogs appeared in view. The first dog had called for back-up. So now, there were three dogs advancing towards us and one backpack to fight back with no longer meant anything. We kept up our non-running pace away from the animals the dogs were protecting. We dropped down lower and lower and, finally, the barking dissipated. We were safe.Suddenly, a muddy, slick trail and leeches were nothing compared to the thought of being attacked by yak dogs.
By the time we got back to Kanglung, the sun was out in full blast, beating down hard on us. I insisted on the long way home, welcoming the sun to burn us. We dropped down to the main road and on the way home had a cold coke and a plate of hot chili chops.
posted by Siapiau | 4:50 PM
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