We spent most of New Year’s Eve cycling from the lovely Haa Valley Homestay to Thimphu. Heading downstream, the road actually brought us higher and higher up as the valley narrowed. This road has not yet been subjected to widening construction, so it was a really pleasant ride with sweeping views of rural homesteads dispersed across rolling hills. We descended abruptly to Chuzom, a river confluence and road junction point, then rode the “busy” road back to Thimphu mostly in the dark.

We celebrated NYE by taking a cold shower (not by choice) at our usual Thimphu base, Hotel Sambauv, then headed out to our favorite restaurant, A La Carte, for our favorite food in the city: amazingly authentic tasting Thai papaya salad with grilled chicken, and a “KFC” chicken burger, much better than the real thing. The place was already packed with partiers dressed in their best ensembles, knee-high boots, 80s ripped jeans, purple faux fur coats, and the like. As for us, we splurged out on some $1.25 drink specials, hot apple cider whiskey and butter-fried ara, of which the latter tasted like a harsh egg nog when using a bit of imagination. Then, as our tradition dictates, we were in bed before midnight, listening to fireworks and a surge of general revelry around that one very special minute.

Our arrival in Thimphu marked the end of our concrete plans for the rest of winter break, so we had to put in some time figuring out the logistics of, well, the entire month of January. We met with our friends at Bhutan Swallowtail who were a great source of knowledge and advice, of course, being that they own a travel company and all. Slowly, and with a few investigatory phone calls and follow ups to those communications, a somewhat confirmed itinerary began to take shape.

Simultaneously, I took advantage of the down time in Thimphu to get up close and personal with Bhutan’s nationalized health care system. It had been several years since I had a thyroid function test to ensure I was on the proper dose of medication for my hypothyroidism. While traveling in Asia, I could walk in to any pharmacy and get the prescription medication for a couple of dollars, so there was little incentive to seek out a doctor after leaving the States.

Upon arriving at the Jigme Dorji Wangchuck National Referral Hospital, I had no idea where to begin the process of getting a blood test, so we walked in to the Emergency Department and were advised to go to “Old Building 1,2,3,4,5”. We asked passersby until we found the Old Building, and then deduced that I needed a numbered call ticket to queue outside of either door 1,2,3,4, or 5. After a short wait, my number came up and I entered door three, not sure what should happen behind it. I had barely uttered hypothyroidism and blood test before the “generalist” doctor had written up a lab order, kindly but efficiently instructing me to go to the lab the next morning because it would already be closed for the day. We decided it would be a good idea to preview the lab’s location and found it in the New Building. The door was still open and we noticed a technician drawing a patient’s blood, so I simply walked in and sat down at a sampling station. We would have to come back the next morning for results though, which we did, queuing in a long but fast-moving line at a little window in the outdoor courtyard of the New Building. After receiving my print out of the test results, we hustled back inside to the window that gives out numbered call tickets to visit the “specialists” upstairs. This is where the real waiting began. After a few hours of sitting in the hallway, my number was finally coming up, so I huddled near the door along with a few other numbers ahead of and behind me, as custom appeared to require.

The doctor competently reviewed my test results, but was a bit dismayed that she could not reference my medical records in a hand written composition notebook like the other Bhutanese patients carried. I explained that my medical records were kept in my health care provider’s computer system in the US and assured her that I did not have a very interesting medical history. She wrote a prescription for the same dosage of levothyroxine that I had been self-medicating with, and a lab order for a whole slew of blood tests including liver and kidney function, glucose, electrolytes, and cholesterol. I first had to go next door to get a blood pressure check, then I was free to take my prescription to the pharmacy in exchange for a numbered ticket. The order was filled quite quickly and I received my pills in an unlabeled plastic baggie.

The next morning, we walked to the hospital for the fourth time (one time was a futile attempt when we didn’t realize it was closed for a national holiday), this time confident that we knew the drill. I got the follow up blood test and was told I could pick up the results between 1 and 2pm. When we returned in the afternoon, the print out was indeed ready, but the specialists were already gone. According to a bystander who noticed us looking around in confusion, once a doctor reaches 60, they stop seeing patients for the day. We weren’t terribly upset by this since all of my values fell within the normal range and I had done my own research regarding what each test signifies.

I left the hospital having paid nary a ngultrum, nor owing any, only having spent a decent amount of time there over the course of three days. I received reliable services and quality care even if the process was initially a bit confusing for an outsider. Ultimately, it was fascinating to participate in a system of health care so different from the US. At least for my scenario of non-urgent preventative care, I certainly preferred the investment of time over money. By shifting more of the responsibility and legwork to the patients, the hospital was able to operate efficiently while still accommodating all the people seeking medical assistance. Seemingly, no one is turned away because they cannot pay, because they are uninsured, or because they could not get an appointment. They have to wait their turn with patience, they have to keep track of their own medical history, they have to run around to different windows in different locations, but this system allows lab results to be available in a matter of hours and specialists to consult at least 60 patients per day. Could you imagine a doctor in the US with 60 appointments in a single day? That said, Matt and I wondered if we would have a similar reaction with a more complicated and/or time-sensitive medical condition. We have the privilege of paying for privatized health care if we need it, but most Bhutanese could not.
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By then, we were ready to move on from Thimphu. Each time we are there, we always have the best intentions of doing fun stuff like day hikes, visiting local temples, and even a few museums. Yet somehow, running errands, shopping, eating non-Bhutanese food, and sorting gear always takes precedence. This time was no different, but it was essential for the success of the rest of our journey back to Bumthang.

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!"