The First Day at Goecha La

I crouch under a fallen wooden log that is dripping wet with the rain. But it barely protects me. The rain continues to fall loud and clear against the dense forest growth and it brings with it a sharp chill. We had thought about the rain right from the morning, considering the unusually hot and humid mountain air, but back then, the clouds hung thick and heavy, refusing to come down.

I like the rain, prefer to watch it from a distance, but hate getting wet in it. Unfortunate, today I am left with no choice.

I crouch under a fallen wooden log that is dripping wet with the rain. But it barely protects me. The rain continues to fall loud and clear against the dense forest growth and it brings with it a sharp chill. We had thought about the rain right from the morning, considering the unusually hot and humid mountain air, but back then, the clouds hung thick and heavy, refusing to come down. 

I like the rain, prefer to watch it from a distance, but hate getting wet in it. Unfortunate, today I am left with no choice.

A few hours ago when we had started from Yuksom, it was hot. The sweat against the backpack would get dried cold. Sometimes I would rest against the trekking pole to beat the fatigue, which came a little too early. The walk was slow, boring. The tropical vegetation that filled up the mountains was interspaced with white magnolia blossoms. Primulas grow on the side of the track. Apart from that, it was mostly dirty and smelt of the yak dung that lay along the tracks.

Trekkers returning back taunted us, “It’s all the way downhill to Goecha La”.

And I would curse them with muted breathe.

If you heard bells, it belonged to the returning Dzos. A few of them would grunt and shake their heads violently in protest of going any further. The mules, in comparison appeared to be swifter. The horseman, who manned them needed to be far more agile than the yak men. All the porters, horsemen and yak men relied more on gumboots, rather than the mountain shoes, which we wore. 

“If it rains here, then it is going to snow in Dzongri”, says Justin, my guide, who, like me, is also crouched under the log, waiting for the pouring rain to subside. The rain finally relents and we start the walk towards Tsokha.

The path towards Tsokha is high and harsh. Here the scene is somewhat rarer and more beautiful. I watch Justin march up ahead, whereas I rest for a while. There are rocky trails which mark the path. At places, the trail cuts through a patch of land with a row of Magnolias, which appear to glow in the evening light. The rain has also brought about a freshness and clarity to the air.

The legs are tired. True.

But, there a new zest to climb further. 

The clouds have started to lift and there is a pleasant, warm light. In the mountains, darkness comes faster. The twilight seems to have spread all around, by the time I open a rickety, creaking gate of a trekkers’ hut in Tsokha.

Dawa, the cook, hands over me a kettle of tea and some biscuits. A table and chair has been laid out in the open and ahead of me is a view of the giant hills of Lampokhari. Mt Pandim pips over partially through them, deeply snowed and glistening in the dying evening light. A couple of horses graze in the valley below. There are racing clouds along some of the green hills. It is an awesome sight. 

But the winds start blowing cold and there is every indication that it has snowed in the higher altitudes. Dinner is taken early at 7.30 PM. Plain rice, dal and an egg curry. It tastes delicious to the tired traveler.

Mt Jopuno

A few hours ago when we had started from Yuksom, it was hot. The sweat against the backpack would get dried cold. Sometimes I would rest against the trekking pole to beat the fatigue, which came a little too early. The walk was slow, boring. The tropical vegetation that filled up the mountains was interspaced with white magnolia blossoms. Primulas grow on the side of the track. Apart from that, it was mostly dirty and smelt of the yak dung that lay along the tracks.

Trekkers returning back taunted us, “It’s all the way downhill to Goecha La”.

And I would curse them with muted breathe.

If you heard bells, it belonged to the returning Dzos. A few of them would grunt and shake their heads violently in protest of going any further. The mules, in comparison appeared to be swifter. The horseman, who manned them needed to be far more agile than the yak men. All the porters, horsemen and yak men relied more on gumboots, rather than the mountain shoes, which we wore.

“If it rains here, then it is going to snow in Dzongri”, says Justin, my guide, who, like me, is also crouched under the log, waiting for the pouring rain to subside. The rain finally relents and we start the walk towards Tsokha.

The path towards Tsokha is high and harsh. Here the scene is somewhat rarer and more beautiful. I watch Justin march up ahead, whereas I rest for a while. There are rocky trails which mark the path. At places, the trail cuts through a patch of land with a row of Magnolias, which appear to glow in the evening light. The rain has also brought about a freshness and clarity to the air.

The legs are tired. True.

But, there a new zest to climb further.

The clouds have started to lift and there is a pleasant, warm light. In the mountains, darkness comes faster. The twilight seems to have spread all around, by the time I open a rickety, creaking gate of a trekkers’ hut in Tsokha.

Dawa, the cook, hands over me a kettle of tea and some biscuits. A table and chair has been laid out in the open and ahead of me is a view of the giant hills of Lampokhari. Mt Pandim pips over partially through them, deeply snowed and glistening in the dying evening light. A couple of horses graze in the valley below. There are racing clouds along some of the green hills. It is an awesome sight.

But the winds start blowing cold and there is every indication that it has snowed in the higher altitudes. Dinner is taken early at 7.30 PM. Plain rice, dal and an egg curry. It tastes delicious to the tired traveler.