We were proud of ourselves for getting a fairly early start (for us) to what we anticipated would be a challenging day of cycling over Chele La and down into Haa Valley. Even so, after a quick stop at the ol' ATM and a few photo shoots along the way, including a plane taking off through the narrow valley with Paro's majestic dzong in the background, it was late morning before we reached the turnoff for the pass and began our long ascent. We could see the summit from our base in the valley and it looked daunting. However, the road was graded consistently and quite reasonably, so we soon settled into a rhythm, albeit a slow one, switchbacking through the forest. 

Once while we were taking a break, it quickly became apparent that we managed to stop in the middle of a yak crossing and while the massive beasts shyly kept their distance, it was a bit unnerving to be completely surrounded by them. As we approached the top, we could see the wind blasting the extensive collection of prayer flags lining the road. The temperature was dropping quickly too, so we bundled up before cresting the pass and had just enough sunlight for a few photos before it sank into a bank of clouds sitting on the other ridge of the valley below us. We had pedaled against 6,000 feet worth of gravity to reach Bhutan's highest motorable, and cycleable, pass at an altitude of 13,000 feet. With the sun, we too began our hard earned descent, pausing a couple of times to rewarm fingers and toes and at least mentally combat the windchill with chocolate. Still, I can think of worse ways to spend Christmas.

We hit the valley bottom in total darkness and called our host at the Haa Valley Homestay for the last leg of directions. As soon as we reached the gates of their courtyard, we were ushered inside and our bikes were swiftly lifted up a ladder-like staircase for safe keeping inside on the first floor. We were shown our cozy room inside the historic house and after taking off a few layers, we sat down in front of the radiant bukhari in the kitchen for further rewarming with tea and bamboo baskets of Bhutanese snacks. We were introduced to some of the family members, Ugyen the father, Dole the mother, Tenzin the 13-year-old daughter, and "Auntie". Dole's aunt lives with them as well. Kinga, their 15-year-old son, was away at a football (soccer) camp. Ugyen's nephew and co-manager of the homestay, Sonam, was also there giving us a really helpful orientation to the house and the area. We soon figured out that through the ever present small country connections of Bhutan, Sonam had been recommended to us as a trekking guide by his ex-pat college professor whom we had randomly started chatting with at a coffee shop in Thimphu a few weeks before, completely separate from our booking at this homestay.

Despite our tired legs, we spent our first day in Haa getting a lay of the land by taking a leisurely cycle up to the end of the valley, or at least until the guarded gate of the Bhutan Army post. There is a permanent presence of both Bhutanese and Indian military in Haa due to its proximity to the Tibetan border. On our return, we stopped in Hatey village in search of the Lechuna Heritage Lodge where Lonely Planet made mention of serving filter coffee, as in real coffee. We instead found the Soednam Zingkha Heritage Lodge and ended up with some regular old Nescafé, not realizing the Lechuna was a separate entity until after it was too late. 

In the evening we rewarded our Chele La efforts with a hot stone bath in a private hut in the house's courtyard. This time we each had our own deep wooden "trough" to recline in, but similarly we would give a little holler when we needed new stones from the fire to be added to a compartment of the tub that stuck through the wall for outside access without disturbing the bathers. We felt that we could really become connoisseurs of the hot stone bath, except we felt guilty about how much work goes in to it and how much wood it burns. At least we were relieved of one worry when the family took advantage of the opportunity when were finished, even the adorable grandparents came over for a soak. As for the wood, Bhutan has 72% forest cover and is the only carbon negative country in the world. Of course, we all know that carbon emissions stay within national borders, right?

The next day we tried our hand at Bhutan's national sport, something I had been hoping to have the opportunity to do since moving here. Even though we stood at a fraction of the distance that Bhutanese archers shoot at the target from, our best attempts were quite amusing for the crowd that instantly materialized as soon as they saw two chilips pick up the traditional bamboo bows. Once our fingers hurt plenty and we fully acknowledged there was no hope for hitting the target, we tried a couple of other traditional target-aiming games that we had not seen before. Jigdum is sort of like knife throwing with a short stick whittled to a point on both ends. Soksum is akin to a javelin and the most difficult to use of the three.

In the afternoon, Tenzin became our de facto tour guide and showed us the recently renovated Lhakhang Kharpo, or White Temple, and the Lhakhang Nagpo, or Black Temple. Both were originally built in the 7th century by the Tibetan king Songtsen Gampo, making them some of the oldest of their kind in Bhutan. The White Temple houses Haa's Dratshang, the monk body of the district, whereas the much smaller Black Temple is associated with the protective deity of Haa Valley. 

We still had some time to spare after a tea break back at the house, so Ugyen suggested that we visit the government run trout fishery. Since it was a few kilometers away, we asked Tenzin if she had a bike and she responded in the affirmative. As we were leaving, her father was urging her to wear a helmet and she used us as rationale why she didn't have to since we were skipping them for the minor ride. Only after we departed did we realize that she was not very confident with her bike riding skills and the bike was actually a rental for homestay guests, but fortunately there were no accidents. The fishery itself wasn't much to see, but Tenzin was so enjoying practicing riding a bike with us that we continued to explore down the valley and tried to teach her how to shift gears.

Our third day was the first day of Lomba, the Haap New Year, and the reason we timed our visit when we did. When planning our trip, I was searching for places to stay in Haa and came across a blog post by a couple of Australian teachers who visited Ugyen and family during Lomba a few years back. We began the day with a marathon hoentay making session, sitting crosslegged on the incredibly polished and always immaculately clean hard wood floor of the kitchen. As special food is central to most celebrations in the world, hoentay are an essential part of Lomba. No ordinary dumplings, the dough is made with buckwheat flour and the filling has no less than ten ingredients, depending on who was explaining hoentay to us. These included an item that no one new the English translation for but we suspect were ground black mustard seeds, as well as turnips, and turnip greens, Sichuan pepper, mushrooms, cheese, ginger, garlic, onion, butter, and of course, chili... Ugyen and Dole were the experts in the production line. Dole made perfectly symmetrical dough cups which would receive a spoonful of the filling by Ugyen before he shaped the mass and closed it with precise and delicate pinches. Then Dole would collect a batch and boil them on the wood burning stove. The more I tried to imitate Ugyen, the worse my hoentay would look, so eventually I "perfected" my own style that, while perhaps not proper, held their own in the aesthetics department. Matt and I also found redemption in the fact that our dumplings looked no worse that Tenzin's! I inquired how many hoentay the tremendous bowl of dough and filling would make and Ugyen estimated a couple hundred. Why so many? Well, it turns out that neighbors not only share hoentay with each other, essentially creating an elaborate hoentay swap, but send them across the country to dispersed relatives and friends via Bhutan's skeletal public transportation system. Adding to that, traditionally hoentay are the only food eaten at Lomba dinner!

Once the hoentay were all boiled up, we accompanied Sonam and Tenzin to the Black Temple where there was a ritual underway for the village's protector deity. Each household in Dumcho village had sent a younger family member to bring back a piece of torma, dough shaped into a small decorative tower, which had been blessed during the ceremony. This would then be mixed in with the dough that each household will use to create a lu, a small effigy that removes negative energy from the house at each new year. The youth also set about collecting samples of various plants that surround the lu.

Upon returning to the house, Sonam began molding the dough into a figurine of a little man riding a horse while we observed and sipped the obligatory late afternoon tea. We were impressed with how quickly he made it and the level of detail involved, even dressing the lu in a robe, and adding a miniature butter lamp, offerings of grains and hoentay and money. Each member of the house then created a chi chi by squeezing a length of dough inside their fist to make their unique palm print. The piece of dough was then passed around the body to remove the person’s negative energy and spit on, then placed on the plate bearing the lu. Lastly, the butter lamp was lit and a trail of flour spread from where the lu sat on the kitchen floor to the door of the house. As the lu was carried out of the house, Tenzin swept away the flour trail. Kinga carried it all the way down to the river and set it down facing south, all the while the group was yelling loudly to scare away the lu. As an extra precaution to ensure the lu did not return to the house with all of the negative energy it was carrying, the boys lit a couple of firecrackers, which didn’t exactly blow up the lu, but did crack the plate it sat on. Then we returned home and ate plenty of hoentay for dinner, of course.

The next morning we got a fairly early start on a hike that Sonam invited us to join him on, along with his friends from the village. The Tourism Council of Bhutan had recently built the Meri Puensum Nature Trail to help promote tourism in Haa, taking its name from a series of similarly shaped hills known as the Three Mountain Brothers. These sacred hills represent the Rigsum Gonpo, a trinity of three important deities called Chana Dorji, Chenrizig, and Jambayang. The group of young men from the village had decided to take on the upkeep of the trail and their mission that day was place rubbish bins proclaiming “Use Me!” at intervals along the way. We were pleased to keep pace with them in the middle of the pack while still stopping to pick up litter as we saw it, despite taking the steep shortcuts in between gentler graded switchbacks intended for mountain biking. Even though this was designed as a  mountain biking trail, it would have been a pretty rough one, requiring a good deal of pushing and even carrying in a few sections, so we were happy with our decision to be hiking it. 

The guys were quite welcoming to having two random tagalongs join their close knit group and while we didn’t understand their jokes or good natured banter, it was apparent that everyone was in high spirits. While I hold no illusions that “Happiness is a Place” as the Bhutanese tourism tagline would like the world to believe, I had an overwhelming feeling of contentment within myself on this particular day and sensed that our companions were experiencing the same. We stopped for a break in a meadow midway up and were amazed to watch most of them pull out full size thermoses of tea out of their small packs. Likewise, at lunch on top of the ridge that runs behind the Meri Puensum hills, bulky insulated containers of packed lunch appeared out of those same bags. While traversing the ridge, we had yet another great view of Jhomolhari from a new angle, then descended back into the forest to complete the kora (loop) around the three sacred hills. We returned to Ugyen’s house at dusk, to the surprise, and perhaps relief, of the older family members who were doubtful we would make it out of the forest before dark. Best of all, Sonam informed us that we must have been the first chilips to hike that trail, yet another place to add to our list of first foreigner to visit in Bhutan. 

We were awoken the next morning before daylight by a chorus of deep-toned horns, bells, drums, and guttural chanting. We laid in bed just listening to our unique but lovely alarm clock for a while. This was the first day of the family’s annual ritual, a two-day affair on auspicious dates determined by the local astrologer. Yesterday, a few monks had spent the day at the house creating torma, elaborate towers made of colored butter shaped onto a base of dough. The collection of torma were lined up the length of the altar where the monks had begun conducting extended ceremonies in honor of each torma in the altar room. Meanwhile, Ugyen’s family was busy preparing special foods for their relatives arriving from Thimphu, Phuentsholing, and perhaps beyond. We joined them in the kitchen just in time for some tasty thup, a savory spicy rice porridge, and filled up on it assuming that it was breakfast. It turns out it was just a pre-breakfast and a mid-morning feast of meat curries over rice was served as official breakfast. As soon as that was wrapped up, preparations for lunch began, with Ugyen and Dole donning their kabney or rachu to dash in to the altar room for a specific prayer or ritual as required, then returning to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Matt and I gave a bike maintenance crash course to Sonam, Kinga, and their Uncle Dodo to help them take care of the rental bikes they had recently purchased for homestay visitors. At lunch, dried yak meat was served, including pieces of pure fat that Sonam coached us on the best way to eat: put the cubes on your plate first and cover with steaming rice to soften, then eat them last, like dessert. It didn’t exactly substitute for chocolate ice cream in my opinion, but it was still cool to try a delicacy that came from the family’s herd of yaks currently grazing at pasture above Paro. We socialized with recently arrived relatives in the afternoon, then got out for a stroll around the village just before dusk to get some fresh air and attempt to digest a bit before dinner. We had noticed that a suspicious number of dogs had been lurking around outside of the house that day and we soon figured out why. They recognized the sounds of the annual ritual and knew that the torma would be carried out of the house and discarded. As soon as Ugyen and Kinga set them down and walked away, a pack of black dogs devoured the beautiful displays of butter and then cows finished off the job with the dough and turnip bases. It was a good reminder of the prevalence of the concept of impermanence in Buddhist philosophy. By the time we ate the last large meal of the day, we were more stuffed than any Thanksgiving. In fact, the whole relaxed day filled with special food and family felt a lot like Thanksgiving, sans parades and football. And since we had not spent the holidays with our own families, this was the best substitute we could have imagined. 

Before departing the last morning, we were invited to join Ugyen and Kinga on the covered roof of their house, which serves as a "cellar" for dried turnip greens, strips of meat, chilies, and grass fodder for their cows. The father and son performed an offering ritual to Dumcho village’s protector deity and we were honored to witness it. It was one of those travel moments made more rich and meaningful because we chose not to bring our cameras up the ladder hewn out of a single massive log. We were fully focused on absorbing every vivid detail with our senses without the filter of lenses. 

As we bid farewell, Ugyen told us that it was karma that brought us together to celebrate Lomba and their annual ritual, because even members of their own family were not able to make it. Indeed, the traditions seemed strong and vibrant from our perspective, but some relatives spoke to us about how the current celebration is an echo of the past, a time when the entire family would gather for a week or more without the pressures of modernity and distractions of technology. Regardless, we were grateful for our temporary adoption into a welcoming Bhutanese household and earnest inclusion in their festivities.

Being a little tired from finishing the Druk Path Trek the day before, we had a leisurely morning of packing up and getting out of the hotel, thus beginning our Bhutan cycle touring tradition of never arriving to our intended destination before dark. Actually, that might just be a Matt and Casey cycle touring habit in general...

We might have made it before the sun set, had we not made it our mission to document the plethora of very punny, rhymey, and/or straight up bizarre road signs expounding all sorts of wisdom between Thimphu and Paro. Gems such, "Peep Peep Don't Sleep!" and "If you are married, divorce speed" come courtesy of Project DANTAK of the Border Roads Organization, a subdivision of the Indian Army Corp of Engineers, which has build more than 1500 kilometers of roads in Bhutan since 1961. The signs have always entertained us during the many times we had driven between Thimphu and Paro, but the freedom of the bicycle allowed us to honor them in their full glory for the first time. 

Other excuses for our slow progress were a decent headwind whipping through the canyon until we reached a river confluence at Chuzom, which then transformed into the rare and elusive tailwind that we never seem to feel at our backs. And then there was that ridiculously steep hill after passing through Paro as the final push of our day, but our reward made it worthwhile. Our much anticipated arrival at the Taktshang View Hotel included tea by a cozy bukhari (wood burning stove) in a gorgeous lobby that made me gasp with surprise when I walked in the door. Every wall was painted floor to ceiling with detailed Bhutanese motifs and traditional Buddhist scenes. Dinner was served in an equally beautiful dining room that felt grand enough for a king's banquet. This would definitely be the fanciest place we would stay during our independent travel this winter break. The friendly staff took an interest in our preference to travel by bicycle, so we ended up chatting with them for a while before heading to bed.

In the (not too early) light of the morning, we got to see why Taktshang View is aptly named. It does indeed have a great view of Bhutan's most iconic landmark, the Tiger's Nest Monastery, hugging a cliff face at its midpoint roughly 3,000 feet above the Paro Valley below. Leaving the hotel, we zoomed down our hard-earned hill and turned north for a ride up to Drukgyel Dzong towards the end of the valley. The dzong was built around 1650 to commemorate victory over attempted Tibetan invasions of Western Bhutan. Mostly in ruins since a butter lamp started a fire in 1951, restoration to its former glory began in early 2016 in honor of the birth of the Gyalsey (Bhutan's Crown Prince) as well as the 400 year anniversary of the arrival of Bhutan's great unifier Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel. We parked our bikes and hiked up to its hilltop location to see what there was to see, which was mostly a construction site, but also included exploring a series of watchtowers that historically protected access to the dzong's water source far below. 

Passing by the window of only handicraft shop in the little village at the base of the dzong, a tiny painting of a chorten on a square of wood caught my eye for its absolute uniqueness. To my disappointment, the shop was locked but some men nearby quickly offered to fetch the owner for me. I was curious enough about it that I agreed. When I picked up the little painting, I was shocked at how heavy it was, at least two pounds, and not wood but stone. I literally had to weigh if it was worth carrying on my bicycle, after all, we had actually done a decent job of packing lightly for once. I decided it was. Merry Christmas to me, a hefty little Buddhist painting, lol!

Speaking of the holidays, we spent a good chunk of the following day scouring the internet for Christmas and Chanukah gifts to order for family members. This turned out to be a striking reminder of how far removed our lives have become from consumer culture with our particular existence in Bhutan. While working, meals are provided at the cafeteria and we live high up on steep hill above the main town. We can go weeks without actually spending any cash, and even then it is usually just a bike ride down to town to stock up on a very limited selection of treats: locally made yogurt and honey, Cadbury chocolate, and mid-grade Bhutanese whiskey at $5 per bottle. This is not to deny that there is growing consumerism as Bhutan continues to modernize, but there are few temptations for us chilips amidst the cheap imports of Western clothes and, well, the usual plastic crap.

In contrast, I found myself sucked in to the website Uncommon Goods, beginning to fantasize about owning cute house things and kitchen gadgets I would never use, at the same time I was incredulous that anyone would spend $20 for a pack of 10 snowflake-shaped marshmallows from Williams-Sonoma. We couldn't even deal with the endless options for the same thing on Amazon. Is it real or will you get ripped off with a knock-off instead? Are those real or fake reviews? Aargh! What to do? We were reminded of the lesson we learned returning to the US after our extended journey in Asia in 2014-16. More choice does not lead to deeper satisfaction with life, and by choice I refer strictly to the consumer kind. Rights and freedoms are another matter altogether.

Of course, we wanted to show appreciation to our families, and at the end of the day we found items that we felt expressed it well, but we definitely benefited from the therapeutic de-stressing effects of a hot stone bath that evening. Somehow we had been in Bhutan for seven months without enjoying this Bhutanese tradition, perhaps because it is a bit labor intensive. Rounded granite river stones ranging in size from a softball to a soccer ball are embedded into a raging bonfire for several hours until they are literally red hot. Then the very skilled attendant removes them with long tongs and plunges them into a compartment of a wooden tub that heats the bath water while also releasing minerals from the rocks. Medicinal herbs such as artemisia (wormwood) are mixed in as well to further soothe sore muscles and ease aches and pains. Since the water gets pretty darn hot, we were told that tourists rarely last longer than half an hour. Of course, we were determined to get our money's worth and were proud to soak away an hour and a half.

For our last day in Paro, we hired a taxi to drive us up a windy road climbing up the side of the valley to the Sanga Choekor Shedra, a Buddhist college where the monks were about to begin their exams that morning. We easily picked up the trail for the Bumdra Trek, usually a two day excursion that we were going to do as a day hike and end up back at Taktshang View. After an hour or so of hiking, we reached Chhoe Tse Lhakhang, a simple temple tended by an single elderly lama who invited us in to his home for tea (and entertainment by his three kittens as companions). He showed us the altar room where we left some fruit we had carried with us and a small donation. 

As we continued upwards, we hoped that the cloudy sky would clear by the time we got to the luxury camp below Bumdra Goempa, embedded into an outcrop of cliffs. The heavy clouds made no effort to dissipate, so we were out of luck for mountain views for the day. We poked around the camp and marveled at the wall tents with real wood framed beds inside, as well as the effort that was required to haul them up there.  Then we climbed a couple of extended ladders from the base of the cliff to pay our respects to the singular altar of Bumdra attended by a rather shy monk. From there, we descended steeply through a rhododendron forest and, of course, the sky began to clear. By the time we emerged at the collection of temples dispersed along the slopes above the cliff face of a Taksang, it was warm and sunny. We visited inside whichever temples were already opened or those where we could find a caretaker without being too disruptive, each with their own unique features, and passed by the rest. 

Reaching the main trail to the Tiger's Nest late in the afternoon, we decided to bypass the star of the show since we have been lucky enough to visit it three times before. Besides, in the five temples visited along the way, we had definitely done plenty of prostrations, taken many pours of holy water, and spun enough prayer wheels for one Christmas Eve! We bombed down the well-trodden trail past the row of "Buy something!" souvenir vendors in the parking area, arriving back to Taktshang View at dusk. In 11.5 miles, we hiked up 3,800 feet and came down 5,300, surely a logical way to rest up before we would leave Paro the next morning and cycle over Bhutan's "highest motorable pass"...

Upon returning to Thimphu, we were in for a bit of a surprise. When we had departed for Dochu La a few days prior, we had left a bag in the hotel storage with all of our camping gear and other items we would need for the rest of our time exploring Bhutan. It turned out that one of the drivers for the SFS program had recognized the bag when he was leaving and assumed that we had wanted it sent back to Bumthang with him. This predicament was definitely going to put a kink in our travel plans and we would certainly not be departing for the Druk Path Trek the next day as scheduled. Fortunately, things have a way of always working out one way or the other in Bhutan, as long as you always throw in a healthy dose of patience to the mix. I got in touch with our program coordinator who informed me that a driver would actually be returning to Thimphu the next day and could drop the bag back at our hotel. The best of all possible resolutions!

As it turned out, there was no struggle to fill the extra time in Thimphu. We met with the guide we had hired through our friends' travel company Bhutan Swallowtail about the logistics of our upcoming trek, then did a thorough scour of a few grocery stores that offer good selections of imported chilip-friendly food and put together a trekking meal menu that we were pretty excited about (even if our guide and his assistant wouldn't be so much...). While picking up the last few items at "8-Eleven", an energetic blue-eyed woman poked her head through the aisle in between some loaves of bread and said, "Hello, not to be creeping on you or anything, but are you Matt and Casey?" Cathy had just added us to a Thimphu ex-pats Facebook group and checked out my (our) profile in the process. She invited us to join her in meeting up with some other ex-pats for dinner and we accepted. It was certainly interesting to hear the stories of foreign volunteers working in hospitals, colleges, and even providing veterinary care to the takins (Bhutan's national animal) in Thimphu's Takin Preserve, but it made for a late night of packing. We did get a bit of extra sleep though since our hotel had had no water supply for the last 24 hours, so last minute showers were not an option. 

Our guide Ugyen picked us up in a local taxi promptly at 6:30am as promised and we drove to Paro after also picking up his friend Kunzang on the way. We tried to acquire a couple of liters of some kerosene at the petrol station for the cook stove, but due to shortages it was strictly regulated, so we ended up with the lovely fuel option of diesel instead. The taxi drove us as far up the rough road as it could manage, then we got situated on the side of the road with our bags, or in Kunzang's case, woven bamboo basket with horribly uncomfortable looking thin rope straps. To make things worse, he then piled their on ridiculously bulky and heavy tent for two people, but the only one they could find to rent independent of a company tour. Treks in Bhutan typically involve an entourage of pack horses, a horseman, cook, and kitchen assistants in addition to a guide, so the concept of lightweight gear and backpacking minimalism is almost nonexistent here. We tried to prep Ugyen and Kinzang for a different style of trekking than they were used to, but going against the grain had already served up some challenges.

We hiked up a logging trail to the Jele Dzong perched on a ridge line overlooking the Paro Valley. With the dzong under renovation, the structure wasn't particularly striking, but the chapel provided a unique opportunity to see an altar dedicated to Paro's protector deity. We lunched in a field of prayer flags with a captivating view of Jhomolhari and then continued on to our first night's camp, a dusty yak herding pasture that had a distracting amount of litter strewn about. The sun had dipped behind the ridge by the time we were setting up camp, and we were quickly introduced to the reality of just how cold the nights were going to be on our dead-of-the-winter trek. It wasn't long before Ugyen and Kunzang had a beautiful campfire going to keep the shivers at bay, which we welcomed despite our confusion about why we brought a camp stove when they ingeniously set up a configuration of stones and branches to begin cooking dinner over it. We had some celebratory cinnamon hot chocolate spiked with Bhutanese whiskey, followed by a decent soup with dehydrated pumpkin and chicken sausage over rice, the last rice these Bhutanese men would eat for several days and a situation almost unheard of in Bhutan. We had warned them: no rice, and BYO chilies...so...do you still want to come? With a quick look at the spectacular night sky and an early bedtime for all, it felt nice to be camping after a long while.

The next day we took the high route along the ridge lines above our campsite for continuous 360 degree views with Ugyen, while Kunzang hiked a shorter lower route through the valley. At the end of the day, we descended purposefully to Jimilangtso, an alpine lake set back in a steep sided valley. This made for an extra cold but scenic campsite with far less garbage, but many landmines of uncovered poop pits dug by commercial trekking groups right in the prime spots to pitch a tent! We were a little surprised that Kunzang was not already there waiting for us, but through a very traditional Bhutanese communication system of hoots and whistles, Ugyen determined he was at the other end of the half-frozen lake. 

Rather than joining us as expected, his whistles became more persistent as we set up the tent a relatively safe distance from any crap craters. Ugyen continued to ignore him, until finally we asked, "Are you sure Kunzang is okay over there?" We had a sneaking suspicion that he had already set up camp and was not planning on moving, but Ugyen had already said there was no place to camp at the other forested end. Finally, Ugyen set off to see what was going on, and returned with Kunzang to help us move our tent to the other side of the lake where suddenly it was a better place to camp: warmer, out of the wind, and with more firewood available. Even if that were the case, by that time we had totally unpacked and were feeling frustrated about how the miscommunication had been handled, so we resisted and they quickly agreed to move their tent to our side. 

We spent the night freezing in our sleeping bag despite wearing all of our layers, including our rain jacket and rain pants. The next morning everything was covered in a heavy frost and the sun teased us for hours by traveling horizontally behind ridge above us, taking its sweet time to crest the top, which was essential for defrosting both the tent and us. Meanwhile, the alternative camping option basked in the sun at least an hour ahead of us. True punishment for being stubborn, of course.

It was a slow steady climb out of the valley, including a stretch of carefully constructed cairns that more closely resembled the ubiquitous chortens that dot the landscapes of Bhutan. We crested the ridge and began traversing across ravines and vertical ridges, shallow cirque valleys and bulges, visiting more small alpine lakes and yak pastures as we went. At our lunch spot near a yak herder's shelter, we were adopted by a mellow black dog who traveled with us to our camp, walking ahead and napping until we passed by him. Despite the painfully slow start to the morning, we reached our intended campsite of Labana before dark, settling in next to an eerily dark-stoned dry lake where people had constructed more of the cairn-chortens. This campsite was the nicest of the three, with only the scars of multiple fire pits to contend with and the occasional whiteout of clouds rising up from the broad valley below.

Dinner was a big hit with Ugyen and Kunzang, still cooked over the open fire since we had discovered the camp stove was not working when Matt persistently tried to fire it up the day before. We introduced them to couscous and magically produced sealed packets of pre made Indian food to top it with. We had been pleasantly surprised to stumble upon the Paneer Butter Masala and Aloo Matar in Thimphu, a strikingly similar equivalent of the "Tasty Bites" I grew up backpacking with. To be honest, this meal conjured up a strong childhood nostalgia despite so many other elements of that moment being drastically different from backpacking in Glacier National Park with my family.

We had been promised a spectacular sunrise, but Matt had set the alarm for after the fact and Ugyen came to our tent yelling "Sunrise!" as it was happening, so I stumbled out of the tent grumpy and discombobulated to a blinding light above a sea of almost equally blinding white clouds below. Given that I don't even do sunrises in the first place, I squinted into the general direction I was supposed to be excited about, then went about my morning routine of actually waking up while Matt enthusiastically snapped photos (of the early morning light, thankfully, not me...).

At a reasonable hour to be awake, we broke camp and had just a little elevation to gain for the day, taking a last look at the panorama of peaks to the north. A dramatically perched chorten at the edge of the ridge marked the beginning of our steep descent to Phajoding Monastery with its tiered roofs spread out across the hillside below. Beyond Phajoding was a hazy view of the city of Thimphu filling the valley and creeping up any slope not too steep to support a building.

Our black dog unadopted us as we approached the monastery, like to avoid starting a turf war with the resident canines there. We were unable to enter the temples since the monks were taking written exams inside of them, so we continued down endless switchbacks through the forest to emerge at a road where our taxi driver from the first day was waiting for us. We felt a sense of accomplishment for having trekked from Paro to Thimphu and in about half the time a standard tourist group would take. As the Druk Path is one of the most popular treks in Bhutan, the trail was well defined and in retrospect hiring a guide was not really necessary. Nonetheless, we really appreciated having Ugyen's additional knowledge and insights to deepen our experience. Since we could not rely on the camp stove, Kunzang's enthusiasm for fire building and skills cooking over it were also essential to our warmth and, well, survival.

We said our thank yous and goodbyes to Ugyen and Kunzang and checked in to the lovely Hotel Sambauv where there was at least water now, but no hot water. Hmmm...we were thoroughly dust-covered from the trail, smelled of campfire and worse, and hadn't showered for two days before the trek either. "What to do?" as the common phrase goes around here. Quite luckily for us, we had a backup option. The SFS program director had kindly given me a gift certificate for pool and gym access at Taj Tashi, a five star luxury hotel. So after having pizza delivered to our $20 hotel room, we wandered over to the Taj and confidently presented the voucher for "us". The attendant did not bat an eye, so we rushed off to our respective bathrooms for truly amazing showers before a soak in the almost-hot-enough jacuzzi. The perfect juxtaposition to our trek was also a wonderful way to wrap it up.

Afterwards, we poked around the lobby and wondered what all of the extra dough for your digs really gets you. In this deeply Buddhist and Hindu country, the hotel was one of the few places we had seen decked out for Christmas. A decorated tree stood in the center of the room and as we walked by I instinctively redirected my path to keep it on my right, subconsciously treating it like a chorten. I recognized my reaction to the Christmas tree a little after the fact and laughed, "You know you've been in Bhutan a long time when you automatically circle another religion's objects clockwise!"

It’s funny to think back to nearly two years ago when we spent ten days in Bhutan as a “once in a lifetime” experience. As we careened around bend after bend on the narrow mountain roads with barely any traffic, I daydreamed about how amazing it would be to freely cycle Bhutan. Never gonna happen though, how would we ever get such an opportunity? At best, we might be able to join an organized cycling tour, someday, after first winning the lottery.

And now, with the School for Field Studies fall semester all wrapped up, that same dream was launched into reality. Panniers stuffed onto the back racks of our mountain bikes, mandatory route permit tucked in to a side pocket, and us wrapped in various warm and windproof layers to combat the winter morning chill, we set off from Hotel Sambauv, practically our second home in Bhutan. We were easing in to bicycle travel in Bhutan with a mini-tour from Thimphu to the top of the closest mountain pass, Dochu La, a wimpy 3,000 feet of elevation gain spread over 16 or so miles. We were relieved that it did not feel too strenuous, since that would not bode well for the rest of our itinerary, but in true Bhutanese fashion we stopped anyway for a tea break mid-journey in the village of Hongtsho. Of course, our ulterior motive was to locate the new Serbhum Brewery that had just started distributing Bhutan’s first stout to select pubs and bars in Thimphu. A nice local man offered to drive us a ways back down the hill, but the brewery was closed as the tasting room wasn’t finished and open to the public yet. But we will definitely keep checking on its progress during future trips to Thimphu.

We crested the pass and were greeted with a panorama of distant snowy peaks against a bluebird sky. After making the traditional three clockwise circles around a cluster of 108 small chortens (stupas) forming an island that gracefully separates the lanes of the East-West Highway, we continued a short distance down the other side of the pass to the Dochu La Eco Retreat. We settled in to a spacious but cozy wood-paneled room with a bukhari (wood burning stove) and an even more impressive view of the spread of mountains than from the pass. We felt high, at about 10,000 feet, but more so from a successful first day and the prospect of fifty more days of Bhutan exploration left ahead of us.

Our specific motivation for staying at Dochu La was the Druk Wangyel tshechu held the next day. This festival is unique in that it only occurs for one day every December 13th and commemorates the Fourth King Jigme Singye Wangchuck's efficient and effective expulsion of Assamese (Bodo) separatists hiding out in Southern Bhutan back in 2003. Dochu La is a fitting location since the 108 chortens were commissioned by Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuck, the eldest of the fourth king's four wives, as a memorial honoring the Bhutanese soldiers who lost their lives in the battle.

From the chortens, we passed through a decorative gate and down a long cobbled walkway, entering the festival grounds just ahead of the opening procession of dancers, dashos (VIPs), and even members of the Royal Family. One glance at the "dance floor", a perfectly rounded hillock rising above the seated audience, and we knew this would be a tshechu to remember. Not only was the backdrop of snowy peaks against a perfectly blue sky simply stunning, but the costumes were even more elaborate and vibrantly colorful than usual.

We were soon "adopted" for the day by a woman named Rinchen after we randomly began chatting with her while watching the dances. She claimed some of the limited chairs for us, introduced us to her husband and friends, and fed us tea and Bhutanese snacks like zau (puffed rice) throughout the day. We were meekly offered to join in their picnic lunch, but she was concerned that it had too much chili for us chilips (foreigners) to handle, so she did not insist as per usual Bhutanese hospitality.

Midway through the festival, some Royal Family members including one of the queen mothers, a princess, and a prince, as well as the Prime Minister, came out of a beautifully embroidered tent presiding over the festival grounds and mingled with the festival goers. When we noticed that they were greeting all of the chilips in particular and asking where they were from and about their experience in Bhutan, we tried to keep our distance and hide amongst the crowd. As much as it would have been an honor to meet them in person, we were unfortunately wearing our outdoorsy clothes. While tourists can get away with wearing Western clothes to a tshechu, Bhutanese must wear the national dress and usually opt for their finest ghos and kiras at that. We would not feel comfortable telling the Royal Family we live here in Bhutan while dressed as tourists at a tshechu, even with the excuse that our gho and kira would have taken up half the space in our bicycle panniers.

After watching the entirety of the program, including some dances specially choreographed to represent the battle with the Assamese militants, we returned to 108 chortens and combed the stretch of vendors set up along the road. We picked up some tasty beef samosas, amazing cheese momos (dumplings), some peppery thup (a savory rice porridge with bits of fresh cheese), and some ngaja (milk tea), then sat out on a lawn with other picnicing folks before wandering back to our hotel. That evening we were treated to even more beauty with a nearly full moon rising up through a hazy pink and purple glow on the mountains.

The following morning we set off for a hike through a dense rhododendron forest up to Lungchutse Goempa. The temple was locked and the only monk we could see around was meditating on a flat rock embedded into a ridge running below the monastery. We were not disappointed though, since the location provided our first glimpse of Jhomolhari, Bhutan's second highest peak. We descended down a different trail to Trashigang Goempa where we inadvertently aggravated a dog as we passed by the monks' living quarters. A monk, who later turned out to be much more afraid of the dogs than us, came out of his house to see what the commotion was and immediately invited us in for tea. While sitting in his courtyard and chatting, we learned that his monk friend staying with him was one of the dancers in the tshechu the day before. We happened to have a video clip of him, unmistakable in a large wooden mask of a blue-faced wrathful deity, which we showed him. Then he pulled his phone out of his robe and showed us an almost identical video of his performance, taken by one of his friends at the tshechu as well.

Our host, Penjor, gave us a thorough tour of the 18th century monastery which houses statues of certain Je Khenpos (Chief Abbots) who meditated there. While Himalayan Buddhist monasteries share many characteristics in common, each one still has a distinctive feel if you pay attention to the details. This time, while scanning an altar cluttered with relics, a brown oval-shaped polished stone set upright in a chalice caught my eye, much like a poached egg. Indeed, we were informed it was a dragon egg when I inquired about it. Penjor then took us to the monastery's source of water, a drupchu (holy spring) encased in a chorten. We filled our water bottles with the sacred water and wondered if the UV light of a SteriPen would also kill its holiness along with the bacteria. We parted ways with Penjor after forcing a small donation upon him and caught a ride back to Dochu La after walking for a while down down the dirt track from the monastery.

Our third time to a monastery that day was less than a charm. Despite having crossed Dochu La plenty of times since first coming to Bhutan, we had never visited the Druk Wangyel Lhakhang, a modern temple dedicated to the Fourth King that includes murals of monks using laptops, a DrukAir plane, portraits of members of the Royal Family and contemporary events. Unfortunately, the temple was guarded by a disgruntled monk who did not look pleased at the arrival of some chilips without a guide. Matt only enhanced his surliness when he unknowingly began to enter a side chapel with open doors that he was not allowed in to. Therefore, when I politely asked if we could go upstairs to see the unique murals, I was met with a harsh no without further explanation. We left without further ado and decided we would have to try again another time, already knowing that other chilips had been allowed upstairs in recent times.

Before leaving the hotel the next morning, we took a last look through the incredible gigantic binoculars mounted on the balcony of the Dochu La Eco Retreat. Besides seeing every detail of the mountains and villages below them, we lingered over the view of the Gasa Dzong, so close but so far away. Our intention for staying in Bhutan for the duration of the break between programs was to see new regions, so we had planned to cycle up to the northern district of Gasa after our time at Dochu La. It would have been a challenging ride made worthwhile by hot springs at the end of it, but the Immigration Office would not approve a route permit to go up there. Apparently there is no problem for tourists, but within the last year they have denied ex-pats entry. We were curious as to why, but no one ever offered any explanations. Since independent travel is outside of the norm of tourism in Bhutan, it tends to works in mysterious ways, so instead we headed back to Thimphu on a quick downhill ride.