Continued...
DISCLAIMER: Due to the then circumstances, there were no pictures clicked in the following legs of the trek. Inconvenience regretted!
The trek started on a off roading trail off the village of Chumina, some 20 to 30 kilometres north of Thimphu, around a small hill with the pass that we were about to cross in the view - Sinchu la.
We started the trek along with our 10 kilo backpacks devoid of tents (noob mistake), carrying all our clothes packed in plastic covers inside the backpacks, and some food for the two days of trek that we had planned. The time was 1300 hours and the weather was very pleasant with the air filled with the sounds of Himalayan birds and bugs. After about an hour of trek and ascent, we come across a narrow gully that was filled with mud, ankle deep. Poor us did not realise that this was going to be our fate for the next two days.
We halted for a lunch of bread and jam at 1430 hours, and played some music on the bluetooth speaker that Sagar ordered. we were purposely loud on this trek, as we were in bear country and the best possible defense against bears is to let them know that you are coming their way.
All we had to guide us was a picture of the trail taken from a website of the Bhutan government, and a previously loaded and saved satellite view in Google Maps of the rough area.
Every half hour or so, I take my Moto G4 Plus out of my 60 litre backpack and check if were on the right trail; however, there was no need of this because all throughout the trail, we see orange ribbons tied which were showing us the way. Now we did not know if these ribbons actually led the way, but the confidence of knowing that there were people that walked the way we were walking then was heartening.
After trekking and ascending for two more hours, I could see a grassland on Google maps that we were near to, and through the dense Himalayan forests, I see a clearing on the right of the trail. We go towards the trail and spot a makeshift shelter made out of tree branches and covered by tarpaulin as a roof. I advise the group that we camp here for the night, but the guys were sceptical saying maybe somebody was already staying there. We meet a few labourers at this point and ask them if that camp was theirs, and they reply in the negative. On asking them how far the pass is, they say a trek of 30 minutes will get us to the pass, where there is a Buddhist stupa on the top. Also, we were told that 5 minutes up the trail, there is a labour camp where we could spend the night.
The others wanted to go ahead, and I reluctantly had to follow the group (mistake #1). On reaching the labour camp, we were not sure about the safety of camping along with them as we had a girl along with us, and decided against popular advice from the labourers (who incidentally were there for the construction of a power line - working under the same guy who gave us a lift in his Mitsubishi off roader) that we would climb the pass and camp on the pass (mistake #2). Mind you, the time was already 1630 hours and in the Himalayas, darkness falls quickly.
We walked on, and after about 15 minutes of ascent, we came to the pass, Sinchu la, at an altitude of 3530 metres. The view of the valley from this pass was magnificent and breathtaking (again, sorry for no pictures).
The stupa was there with prayer flags tied all around. We had a tarpaulin that we borrowed (stole) from the first camp that we came across that we used to construct a makeshift tent to keep us dry. And out of nowhere, the weather turned, clear blue sky making way to clouds, and then it started pouring.
It was not the kind of rain we know down South or in the cities. The mercury was at 5 degree C and it started raining, along with a wind so chill that we thought it was blowing from snowy mountains, oh wait, it was! And our makeshift tarpaulin tent just could not stop the rain and all our bags got wet, we got wet, and our clothes got wet. We sat on the wall of the stupa holding the tarpaulin over our heads, contemplating on what to do.
When you are a bearded guy, you know the pain of a wet moustache - it keeps going into your mouth. That was what was happening with me in that rain and how much ever I tried to get that one pesky strand of moustache hair out of my mouth, I could not. So I ask Lucky sitting beside me to take a look as to why my moustache was stuck to my lips. She takes one good look at my lips, and shrieks...
To be continued...
