Upolu, Samoa - the dog's bollocks!!

the dog's bollocks (idiom, UK offensive): a rude phrase for something or someone that you think is extremely good... dictionary.cambridge.org 

For the past couple of months I've had an incredibly hectic time at work, with my full year's teaching load falling into the July-November trimester.  It was clear some R&R was going to be necessary, so when a convenient sale popped up, we pulled the trigger on flights to Samoa, keen to add this to our growing collection of Pacific Island destinations:  Hawaii, New Caledonia, Niue, Fiji and Tasmania (twice, though some might argue it shouldn't count at all)!!

As is becoming horribly typical, I'd done little homework prior to our departure, aside from booking a base for the entire 6-night stay in Samoa's capital Apia, and ensuring our "fat tyred road bikes" aka Open U.P.s had a shakedown ride or two.  We noted (yet again) battery discharge issues on Sarah's bike, but luckily Fraser's team at MyRide Wellington were able to source a replacement just in the nick of time. 

My office at the Pipitea campus is right at the Lambton Quay bus station, and we've discovered that it makes a great launching pad, the Airport Express bus being a cheap, regular and fast way to get two bikes and their riders to the airport, and it is easy enough to drop bike bags to work the night before travelling.  

Travel took much of the day, by virtue of a stopover in Auckland.  Upon arrival at Faleolo Airport, I grabbed some cash from an ANZ ATM and we were soon on our way to our hotel in a taxi.  We'd been quoted $80 for the 30km drive, and the driver claimed not to have change for the only local currency I had, a couple of $100 bills, one of which he ended up with.  The rest of the trip reinforced the unlikelihood of this - almost all subsequent transactions were in cash, and it seemed inconceivable that the driver was being straight with us.  Live and learn though, and from now on, I've made a commitment to only ever withdraw $190 from an ATM, thereby guaranteeing plenty of smaller bills!!!!  (I do love being a maths geek.)

We were staying for the duration at Vaea Hotel Samoa, and this proved to be a great location, right on the outskirts of the centre of Apia, and within walking distance of the town centre, a fantastic coffee shop (Coffee Roaster Samoa), and a laundromat.  

The next morning's priorities were route planning, bike assembly, and enjoyment of our first of a series of solid buffet breakfasts.  The island road network was relatively simple, and the only variables seemed to be how long the few obvious loops were, and which direction of travel was best.  After experimenting with a number of tools over the years, I now consistently get my base map from BBBike.org, and use Strava's phone app route builder (which most recently has a heatmap overlay which gives you a good sense of where cyclists typically go).  I drafted up a bunch of loops, ranging from 50km to 120km (plus/minus change), and picked the shortest one for the day's mission (though not before setting out on foot, and returning with a single local SIM installed, plus some very solid coffee on board). 

The basic road network in Upolu - one of two major islands in Samoa

  

Day 1 (learning about the wind)

These days our legs tend to be pretty rusty leading into cycling holidays, so it made sense to ease into it.  The ride started with a bit of ducking and diving through the outer suburbs of Apia, before the climb up Alafa'alava Road began.  While there are many things that compete for a cyclists attention, I immediately found myself soaking up our surroundings, and in particular the points of difference that make cycling holidays so rich.  

Some nifty garden art

My advantage is always greatest at the beginning of these trips, given I've got three-and-a-half decades in my legs compared to Sarah's one.  To make matters worse, while her body is happiest in cold air, mine seems to function best in the heat.  I've learnt to somewhat keep my distance!

The road took us along a flat ridge, which rose away from Apia over about 15km to a high point of just shy of 400m above sea level.  There was a wee bit of traffic to negotiate, and we quickly began to observe patterns - most drivers would give us a courtesy toot just before passing (often times quite close, but rarely at high speed).  

One of a vast fleet of open-air buses, typically named after the village they serve, and all spectacularly painted

At one of my many stops to wait for my cobber, I got to admire one of the very few cyclists we saw in our entire visit.   His singlespeed gear was horribly unsuitable for a ramp I followed him up, and I was glad to see him taking a tactical walk. Had he not, I'd have feared getting hit by kneecap shrapnel. 

We turned off the ridge soon after, and dropped down to the coastal airport road.  There, we discovered a solid headwind which we would battle against most of the way back to Apia.  The heat continued to trouble Sarah, so I kept my eye out for a bathing opportunity.  I spotted some locals in a pool between the road and the ocean and stopped to wait for Sarah.  I suggested she ask if it was OK to join them, and she got the all clear.  Surprisingly, she reported that the water was fresh, and upon closer inspection, it looked like a stream flowing under the road had been dammed to create this wee swimming hole.  

Near Apia, we had an opportunity to turn off the main road, and while this subjected us to a bit of climbing, we regularly changed direction and so did manage a bit of a break from the wind.  

There were regular signs of development aid from China, Japan, Canada and NZ among others

We won some and lost some on the way back to the hotel.  No sooner had we passed through a stunning ford (in which some local kids were cooling down) than we got chased by a small pack of dogs!  

I probably pushed things a little far by sneaking in a tiki tour of the waterfront area of Apia, and we finished up a bit battered.  The good news was the day had marched on, so after washing up, we didn't have to wait too long to go out in search of dinner.  A pizzeria on the waterfront seemed not to have any pizza on the menu, though it presumably had when it did its signwriting.  We settled on a burger for him, and a plate of pasta for her, though Sarah's appetite was virtually non-existent which didn't bode well for the next ride.  I managed to pry half a cheesecake into her, which surely was worth a few kilometres!

Stats:  59km ridden, temperature range 29-39 degrees, ignored by maybe half the dogs we passed

Day 2:  up and over

The next morning, I decided we'd have a crack at the middle of three "cross island roads", and of the two actually named Cross Island Rd (at least as far as Google is concerned).  This particular one includes the biggest climb - up to over 800m above sea level.  We suited up straight after breakfast and in my excitement, I initially overlooked a planned coffee stop. Comedy ensued and I had to exit flight mode for the only time of the trip to work out where Sarah had vanished to!  

The climb began immediately, and it was obviously going to be tough - it was pretty rampy, with the gradient constantly changing (and not always for the better), and the sun was already out in force.  I mostly left Sarah to it behind me, but scoped out regular stops, either at shops to pick up a cold drink, or in the shade somewhere.  

Neither a cold drink store, nor shady, but a brief opportunity to let the legs recharge!

Very near the summit was a small convenience store, and while I waited for Sarah I began chatting to the owner, a fellow who'd spent a number of years living in Hamilton.  Once recomposed, we knocked out the mellow remains of the climb, and began a fast run down to the coast.  Towards the bottom, there were significant road works, and it was nice to be on fat tyres.  

Once down at the intersection with the Main South Coast Road, we hung a left, and began a slow plod into the prevailing easterly wind.  The combination of headwind, heat, low appetite and whopping climb in the legs were all taking their toll on Sarah, and so a side trip to see the Togitogiga waterfall provided some welcome relief.  We joined a few others bathing in the pool, before heading back out to battle.  Well past the point of no return, Sarah discovered a missing drink bottle, which was a nuisance but not a deal breaker.  The convenience stores seemed more than frequent enough for us to be able to cope with 3 bottles between us and so I didn't go back in search for it.  

Post-dip below the Togitogiga waterfall

Despite seeing number of signs for the To-Sua Ocean Trench, we were oblivious to what we were missing out on when we turned away from the coast to begin the return crossing to the north coast.  This was probably a blessing in disguise for a few reasons - it remains one further great reason to go back to Samoa; taking a mid-ride dip in cycling clothing in sea water seems like a bad idea (and we hadn't packed togs); and we probably would have chewed up more time and energy than we actually had available.  

This second climb was almost identical in profile to the previous day's effort, but with better scenery!

Cows grazing under coconut trees

Nearing the top, a sign to another waterfall seemed worth checking out.  I waited for Sarah there, and after paying a local fellow a hefty koha each, we enjoyed a wee bit of off-road riding which turned out to be well worth the effort.  

Fuipisia Waterfall

As spectacular as it was to approach, the view from the top of the waterfall was remarkable.  Below was a deep and lush valley which really was quite breathtaking.  Oh, nature...!

We had a bit of a poke around, and Sarah took the opportunity to cool herself once more by taking a dip (well away from the edge).  

Once back on the road, we didn't have much more climbing to do, and soon found ourselves at Lemafa Pass.  We stopped to soak in the view, and Sarah spoke briefly to a couple who were taking a rest there (despite driving up the hill!!).  Beyond lay a fast descent, and a stonking tail wind back to Apia.

Nonetheless, it had been a tough ride, especially for Sarah.  We settled on a nearby Indian restaurant for dinner, and I was pleased to see she ate a bit more than the previous evening.  

Stats:  97km ridden, two swims, two hills, and 23-35 degrees.  

Day 3 - Sunday special

I did a bit of a shop the evening before for ride snacks, figuring it was entirely possible the whole island would be at church or doing family stuff for the duration of our ride.  As it turned out, probably half the shops we passed were open, and there was no need to have stressed.  

I took good advantage of some hard-won on-road-lessons, and decided to use the local conditions to our best advantage.  I planned to first use the easterly to push us along the flat to the western end of the island, and then to climb up onto the central ridge, and use the descent into Apia to offset the headwind.  Piece of cake!

Passing the pool Sarah had swum in a couple of days earlier, it was interesting to see it inundated by the ocean.  Presumably it would revert to a freshwater swim by low tide.

The ride began with our first outbound trip along the airport road, and while it was noticeably quieter than the previous two days, people were still out and about.  As the airport came into view, an Air New Zealand flight was taxiing to the gate and I was a bit bummed not to have seen it land.  Cowering from a bit of rain quarter of an hour earlier had slowed us down a touch!

A couple of kilometres past the airport was the Mulifanua Wharf, at which we stopped to snack, and I watched a ferry dock.  It had been in view ever since we'd left Apia, and had been shadowing us along the coast, presumably en route from American Samoa to the east.  

All good things must come to an end, and sure enough, we began to turn south, and then east, bringing the head wind into play.  There were plenty of good distractions, including views across to the small island of Manono, among other things.  

While the churches between Apia and the airport had typically had full carparks, the western end of the island seemed much quieter.  Maybe people had retired home by now, or maybe the homes in the villages weren't all inhabited.  

I could see a climb ahead, and the data uploaded to my GPS confirmed that we were about to go up and over a ridge.  As we approached it from below, we could see the first ramp alongside a handsome church.  In hindsight, maybe the church had been built by cyclists who'd stop to pray they had the legs to get up the hill.  

The first ramp turned out to be only the beginning, and the segment named "Heart Attack Hill" on Strava turned out to be quite an arduous treat that served to remind me of my better years!!!   

20% on a pushbike requires a fair bit of effort, not least when you've got one hand off the bars!!

I ditched my bike at the saddle, and walked back down the road a bit to wait for Sarah, who was along directly.  She seemed in reasonably good spirits, despite (or maybe because) needing to walk a few stretches. 

We had a quick drop back down to near sea level, and a few more minutes pedaling into the headwind before hanging a left to begin our climb up to the start of the ridge.  This was an impromptu short cut, so I wasn't sure what to expect.

The road turned out to be immediately unsealed, and initially very mellow.  After a stop for a wee, the rough surface became hellishly steep, and I was glad to be out of earshot, but otherwise having fun wrestling my steed up the hill - maintaining power and traction required care.  For a long while I was dreading a descent, which would have turned my shortcut into an unmitigated failure (at least from Sarah's perspective).  I was relieved that it climbed all the way to the main road, so at least when she finally arrived I was able to report that we were over half the way up the climb.  

Before things got crazy...

While we'd had rain and lower temperatures at the start of the ride (when we weren't working particularly hard), the sun was now out in force, and a supermarket not far up the road made for a welcome ice-cream and drink stop.  

Not far beyond that, we passed a few of the island's more curious trees - they looked like Nikau Palms on steroids - very similar shape, but much larger with thicker trunks and fronds.  That in and of itself had been surprising, but the really weird bit was that many looked like someone had planted an apple tree in the crown of the tree. 

These examples were great, because the "apples" had been falling to the ground.  Closer inspection revealed what appeared to be the love-child of an armadillo and an avocado.  

An avodillo?  Armacado?

In good spirits, we soon found ourselves enjoying a mellow descent to the intersection with the western end of Alafa'alava Road.  After climbing for a short while into a head wind, we eventually hit pay-dirt, by way of a 20km descent all the way into Apia during which we only rarely had to turn a pedal.  

I love watching Sarah pass horses.  Her body language betrays her absolute delight

Despite some incredibly stern gradients, and the eventual heat, we seemed to be adjusting nicely to life back on the road.  In addition, we'd both noticed that dogs had seemed particularly chilled out, so maybe they were taking a religious break along with the vast majority of the human population.  We'd received good advice from the coffee roaster the morning before (who also happened to be the captain of the local cycling club), namely, to ignore them.  It took some doing, especially when there were dogs plural snapping and snarling around your ankles, but it seemed obvious that the advice was informed by some nasty crashes over the years.  The spirit of the advice was that you were at greater risk of losing control of the bike than you were of getting bitten.  

While recovering by the pool, we got chatting to another Kiwi couple who were staying at VHS, and they offered us a lift up the hill to an actual pizza joint that they'd booked at (Giordana's - open Wednesday to Sunday).  We first managed to book a table, but ended up dining with Julia and Michael, and enjoying both the food and chit-chat.  

Stats:  92km ridden, wind successfully cheated, and gradients both for and against us.  25-36 degrees.  (Only one cheeky swim, despite the "ban" on Sundays - Sarah just happened to "slip over" when crossing a ford...)

Day 4 - tourist (recovery) day

Sarah's body seemed to have kicked into "I need to fuel myself" mode, which was great to see.    Nevertheless, this seemed like a good day in which to check out some local attractions, and let cycling take a bit of a back seat.  

First spot on the list was the Robert Louis Stevenson museum in Vailima (not to be confused with the one in California!).  Rather than completely take the day off and use local taxis, we rode up the Cross Island Road for a few kilometres.  By the time we got to the museum my shirt was drenched, thanks to the 200 vertical metres, plus the morning temperature.  We arrived a minute or two after a tour had begun, so joined that after leaving our bikes under the watchful eye of a gardening crew.  

This was the home of Robert Louis Stevenson for 3 years until his death in 1894

The tour was interesting, including the curious (and very regular) pronunciation of "Rob-blu-iss" by our knowledgeable young guide.  The library was my highlight, and contained a few first editions of his work, as well as numerous other copies (including translated versions).  

After the tour, we spent the next hour doing a bush-walk up to his grave, which gave me a good opportunity to do some more sweating.  Mercifully, we were in pretty dense forest the whole way, and the much cooler air temperature took the edge off the effort.  

If at first you don't succeed....

Once back at the homestead, we got our cycling shoes back on and blatted back down the hill to the coffee shop for lunch.  I lucked out (a good thing, would you believe) by ordering a fish wrap, much to the envy of Sarah whose tuna sandwich was less to her liking.  

Next stop were the Papaseea Sliding Rocks, which too involved a bit of climbing and a lot more sweating - the place looks so flat on a map!   I was amazed to only be charged $5 each (about half the price of a good coffee at the roaster's place, and equivalent to only $3 NZD) despite the quality of the attraction and its uniqueness.  

After a very steep flight of steps down to the river, we found about 15 people in the process of picnicking, sliding and spectating as a few brave souls demonstrated the sliding rocks.  We retired to the top pool, and had it to ourselves for the duration of our visit.  The water was cool and clear, and the pool was in the shade - perfect!  

I had a couple of goes at the top slide, and before leaving, had a bit of a poke around below, noticing another couple of chutes which looked like further candidates for getting wet. Passing, we headed back up the stairs to find our bikes unmolested.  Given that and the modest fee, I gave the attendant another 10 tala, which she seemed delighted by.  

A local market on the way home, with an interesting mix of provisions

We got hit by a brief downpour on the way back to the hotel.  Unfortunately, I was wearing a new white shirt which had been perfect when it was drenched in sweat (who could tell?!) but was now covered in road splatter.  Finding a laundromat was high on the agenda after we got washed up, and it was also a good opportunity to get our riding gear properly washed. 

Once the laundry situation was sorted, we decided to treat ourselves to a date night, in the form of fine dining at Bistro Tatau.  The food was exquisite, and we chose well, sharing oka (Samoan ceviche) to start, and some chocolate cloud cake (which was like eating the most delicious cloud ever) to finish. I had salmon in between, and was so in rapture that I'll pretend I didn't even notice what Sarah ate.  

Stats:   a mere 31km ridden, a couple of great tourist attractions seen, and a spot of walking and swimming to add to the mix.  

Day 5 - Giant Clams

Our dinner companions of a couple of nights earlier had mentioned snorkeling at a giant clam sanctuary earlier that day, and this seemed like a perfect focal point for our final ride of the trip.  I mounted a saddle bag into which went our togs, and after a good breakfast, we got underway. 

Our second ascent of the (big) Cross Island Road was a very different experience to the first.  It was a bit cooler, but more importantly, Sarah had been eating much better, and we now had 250km in our legs so were both better practiced.  

I stopped once in a while to regroup with Sarah, but rarely had to wait long, and we were soon getting underway again. 

Baha'i House of Worship Samoa

About three-quarters of the way up the hill, Sarah was keen for something cold, and found on google maps a convenience store very near to where we were resting.  A couple of minutes later she was enjoying an ice-cream and a cold drink, and was grateful for both.   

I was sorely tempted to do a side trip to see Lake Lanoto'o, but while only "3km" from the main road, it definitely would involve some hike-a-bike, and the internet even warned of leeches en route.  The uncertain time and effort required put me off (not to mention the critters) and it remains in the list of reasons to go back to Samoa!

Over the top and true to form, we spent a few minutes riding in the cloud, before hitting the roadworks again, and safely reading the South Coast Road intersection.   

This time we turned right, which we now knew would bring with it the benefit of a tail wind.  Our first time along this stretch, we realised this was where many of the island's resorts were lurking, though otherwise things weren't much different to the parts of the island we'd already seen.

Another of the stranger trees to look at.  A similar smaller species had fruit which resembled cucumbers

Our sense of anticipation grew as we approached the village of Savaia, where we expected to find the clam sanctuary.  My excitement led to temporary deterioration of my navigational skills, and we had to backtrack briefly when a "road" on my Garmin map looked indiscernible from people's yards.  

We duly arrived to find three young men sitting in a shelter with some snorkeling equipment alongside.  It was available to hire, and we were assured there was "free parking" for our bikes!  Ushered to the changing rooms across the way, and asked to shower first if we were wearing sun-cream, we were soon swimming.  

The location of the giant clams was marked with a flag-pole type arrangement, and about two thirds of the way there, we crossed a rope marking the beginning of the juvenile (or otherwise non-giant) clams.  These were themselves spectacular, and the variation in colour was fascinating.  When we reached the big ones, things definitely went up a couple of notches!  Their size was one thing (probably at least a metre end-to-end), but also the structures in the soft-tissue, which included a couple of vents through which you could see the base of the hinge...  It was hard to tell exactly what we were looking at, and how it all came to be, but it was nonetheless glorious.  

Unfortunately, we didn't have a camera with us, but you can check out photos from other visitors here.  Including the snorkel hire, we paid only $50, which was incredible value.  It was a bit of a grab-and-go affair, and we didn't spend long in the water.   An hour earlier, there'd been a lot of cloud cover and even a few showers, but unfortunately the sun had come out by the time we'd arrived and I knew I'd get roasted if we stayed in too long.

Once changed, we had a nice chat to the single local who'd remained on duty.  He seemed a fascinating young man (born in 2000, same as Kaitlyn and Khulan), full of surprises, including that he'd been an elite badminton player, and had competed for Samoa internationally.   These days, he told us, "he loves to eat", and it seems that his rep days are behind him!  

Sightseeing done, we began our climb, again bound for the head-wind cheating ridge back into Apia. I stopped for some shade just below where we'd emerged onto this road a couple of days prior.  Then, I'd tried something similar, and attracted unwanted attention by virtue of a barking dog - mortifying, as until that point, the village seemed to be enjoying some quiet time.  Today's attention came by virtue of four small boys who appeared fascinated by the large, strangely clad palagi and his steed.  

While the horse wasn't in its paddock (or at least it wasn't near the road), a spectacular tree across the road hadn't moved, and I waited for Sarah beneath it.  

Before getting changed, I packed the bikes up, ready for the trip back to the airport the next day.  In the meantime, we booked seats at the weekly cultural show down on the waterfront.  There, we were served a range of local foods on a magnificent (in multiple senses) biodegradable plate, before enjoying a show which included some impressive ailao afi (fire dancing) among other things.  

Stats:  a bit too much food eaten, after a 82km ride, punctuated by a 300m swim (not on Strava)!

* * *

The airport transfer the next day went well, and our transport strategy seemed a good one.  While out on a mission to buy some souvenirs, to drink a good coffee, and to consume a couple of known-to-be-delicious fish wraps, we kept an eye out for a taxi with an immense boot.  One spotted, we booked the driver for a trip to the airport.  

As a mid-winter getaway, the trip had been a godsend.  It was nice to mostly be able to check out from work, and being warm while all hell was breaking loose at home (weather wise) was nice.  Our accommodation was great, we'd enjoyed some good food, done some great riding, and had a decent amount of non-bike activities.  As usual, Sarah's company was perfect.  

Logistics were simple, with English spoken well enough by those we needed to interact with, and convenience stores were both abundant on the road, and harboured a good supply of cold drink and other sustenance.  The format is a surprisingly rare one for us, with the vast majority of our trips involving a more traditional new-place-every-night cycle tour, which has both its pros and cons in terms of gear and how to store it.

There were a few negatives though.  

The dogs were a drag, but could have been a lot, lot worse.  Probably about a quarter of them were totally chilled out and ignored us completely.  Another quarter we'd sneak up on, and after flinching in fright, they'd consistently slink off in shame.  The remaining half would harass us in some way, and some were easier to ignore than others.  We each ended up with dog saliva on our shoe on one occasion (different dog), but would have said we were more "mouthed" than bitten. 

The other real drag was the horrifying amount of rubbish around, almost all of the plastic variety.  Some villages were pristine, but many weren't, and it was both shocking and depressing to see.  While homes all seemed made out of modern materials, the way people were living in the villages looked very traditional (i.e., I'm guessing that it has been like that for as long as the islands have been inhabited).  The clash between what seemed like traditional life with modern waste all over the place constantly grated on me.  

Rubbish and dogs aside, the scenery was lovely.  The island is prepping for CHOGM in November, and in particular "the King's visit", and to that end, people are putting a lot of effort into getting their gardens in order.  Volcanic rock has been put to good use by many, and the local plants have a nice colour palette from which to choose.  10/10 gardening abounds. 

The vegetation was fascinating as noted occasionally above, but we didn't see much animal or birdlife.  There was an interesting and relatively common flightless bird that looked like a mini weka, and we occasionally caught a splash of colour in a bird on the wing.  I was surprised to also see a pūkeko and wondered what the Samoans call it.  Otherwise, we saw chickens and a few pigs alongside the road, and cows and horses in paddocks.  I imagine monkeys and snakes would love it in Samoa, but I guess it is the better for their absence.

I am sure we will visit again.  To-Sua Ocean Trench is a must-see, and there's a marine reserve in Apia itself I didn't notice until it was too late.  Also, everyone we spoke to raved about the neighbouring island of Savai'i and it seems like that would make a lovely mini-tour destination (about 200km for a circumnavigation).  We think the daughters would love it, so may force it on them at some point as a family holiday!!!  The Tour of Samoa was winding up just as we were getting started, and I couldn't completely rule out signing up in the future.

Finally, if you were taken aback by the blog title, I didn't see any bee's knees, but I sure as hell saw plenty of dogs' bollocks.  In fact, it took me a while to click to why the sight of uncastrated dogs was so remarkable, but I eventually realised that you virtually never see "intact" male dogs in New Zealand these days.  It doesn't take a PhD in statistics to connect the number of dogs on the island to the number of dogs' balls, though there's some chicken-and-egg-type causality issues to wade through.  Maybe something to ponder next time!!!!

360km of high quality riding.  Thanks for the memories Upolu!

Bike-free in Bhutan

(Warning:  no actual cycling is described in this blog.  If this is likely to aggravate, please step away.  Otherwise, enjoy a write-up which is to all intents and purposes, completely standard, with a focus on the exercise and on-the-road aspects!)

I find it hard enough to keep in touch with my family, despite living in the same city as very many of them.  Sarah left Mongolia over 20 years ago now, a country that in most respects is diametrically opposed to New Zealand.  Technology and our stage of life are both helping immensely, but I sense a growing imperative to connect with her small family, now spanning three generations:  sister Saruul, niece Tsomoo, and great nephew Urin.  

Some six months ago, a seed was sown to tick a few boxes simultaneously.  About 15 years ago, Saruul began aspiring to visit the kingdom of Bhutan - a small country in the eastern Himalayan foothills, tucked between India and the Tibet region of China.  As I'd come to learn, the country has been significantly influenced by Mongolian culture, and would give Sarah and Saruul glimpses of what Mongolian life might have been like pre-Stalinist purges, which all but destroyed the large number of buddhist monasteries across the country.  

Tourism in Bhutan doesn't have a long history - in fact, borders were opened to tourists for the first time somewhere between my birth in 1973 and Sarah's in 1974!  To mitigate the environmental and cultural effects tourists can have, a "high value, low impact" policy was instituted in 2008, and this has been tinkered with since, via a steep daily rate for every visitor into the country.  

For a change, I enjoyed taking a back seat (if I was in the vehicle at all!) for planning this trip.  At Saruul's suggestion, Sarah got in touch with Om Travenza, a travel agent based in Thimphu, the nation's capital.  Over the months leading up to the trip, from my vantage point, Om was fantastic to deal with.  At our request, her initial itinerary was revised to include a bit more walking, and she otherwise made getting organised painless.  She took charge of the visa application process, flights to Bhutan on the national airline Drukair (from Bangkok for Sarah and I and Kathmandu for Saruul), as well as insurance for our time in Bhutan.  In my most cynical moments, the web presence and gmail address worried me a little, but that was totally unfounded.  

Such are the quality of modern "on the fly" planning tools, I've taken to doing as little homework about our holiday destinations as possible, so as to maximise the number of pleasant surprises.  Our Lonely Planet books look lovely on the bookshelf, but my eyesight is increasingly finding the font size hard to cope with!  Nonetheless, had I translated Om's itinerary onto a map, I'd have anticipated a visit to four valleys, each running vaguely north-south.  We'd land at the spectacular Paro International Airport in the western-most valley, and each day or two would move further eastward, spending time in each of the Thimphu, Punakha and Phobjika valleys, before returning to Paro for the happy ending of every tourist's visit to the country, a pass of the so-called Tiger's Nest Monastery.  

Paro, Thimphu, Punakha, and Phobjika Valleys in Western Bhutan

Day One - Paro to Thimpu

After a day of nursing mild cold symptoms in Bangkok, and an early flight to Paro International Airport via a touch-down in Dhaka to pick up a few more passengers, we began our approach into Paro.  The landing was something else, from initial views of snow capped mountains, through to our slow descent into an increasingly tight valley, to the final ducking and diving around landforms that disrupt a straight-line approach.  

I'd come to learn that the landing from the north would have been even cooler, as the plane overflies the runway before doing a big U-turn when the valley widens, followed by an even more technical final approach.  (Plenty of videos on youtube to enjoy!)

The terminal at Paro International Airport

The surprises came thick and fast thereafter.  The walk from the plane to the spectacular terminal was refreshingly uncontrolled.  Not only was photography fine, but we seemed able to wander to our hearts content, apparently constrained only by common sense!  The terminal itself was beautiful, and constructed in typical Bhutanese style.  

English-language welcome was a sign of things to come

We had printed copies of the E-visa we'd each been issued, and at the immigration counters our passports were stamped for entry until the date we were due to leave.  Saruul had arrived an hour or so before us, and as we connected with her soon after retrieving our luggage.  We soon met Singye, our guide for the week, and Tshagay, our driver, both lovely young men, dressed in traditional Bhutanese national dress.  

Photo: Tshagay

The next hour or so on the road alerted us to various interesting facts:  many Bhutanese do wear national dress; English is the language of education, and is spoken by most (almost all signage was in English); while the road surface tends to be good (no potholes etc), the speed limit is commonly 40km/h or 50km/h, and this tends to be observed as an upper limit, and not a target!  

Handsome gate to commemorate one of no-doubt many Indo Bhutan Friendship Projects

We stopped for lunch in Thimphu, where we were treated to ema datshi, aka chili cheese.  Essentially sliced chili in a cheese sauce, we were told this is a popular dish at any time of the day!

After lunch, we made various short stops at tourist attractions, each involving some amount of walking - slowly, on account of the thin air.  According to the web, Thimphu is the world's fifth highest capital city, at around 2300m above sea level.  These stops included a facility demonstrating the traditional home construction, and we took a short walk to our first Buddhist monastery.

Southern suburbs of Thimphu

Following that, we drove up a narrow road to find one of the world's largest sitting Buddha statues, and some incredibly chilly winds!  Back down into the relative warmth of the city, we took a lap of the Thimphu Chorten (National Memorial Stupa), by which time the phrase "always clockwise" was well instilled in my brain!

We may have been poking fun at some royals...

With dinner time approaching, we were all touristed out, and so drove up the hill to meet Om.  Not only an accomplished travel agent, she also was the proud owner of a boutique hotel on the main road east from Thimphu.  There we were treated to great conversation, food, and lodgings, and slept well in anticipation of our first proper walk the next morning.  

Day 2 - Lungchutse Hiking Trail

Our goal would be the Lungchutse Monastery, offering views of the Himalayas when the skies are clear.  Often done as an out-and-back from Dochula Pass (3200m above sea level, climbing up to 3600m over 3.5km!), Singye suggested we start from another monastery, and who were we to disagree!

Ready to roll, so to speak

The drive was short, but not without surprises, including road side stalls and signs of sizeable communities living in the hills.  About half the drive was off the main road, on a very long drive way through challenging terrain, and sealed with hot-mix.  

Hungtsho village

Starting a walk at 3000m is no mean feat at the best of times.  Saruul had the disadvantage of being generally less active than Sarah and I, but on the other hand lived in UB and had spent a week in Kathmandu on her way to Bhutan (both about 1400m above sea level).  Sarah and I were no strangers to exercise, albeit at sea level, and we were both nursing mild cold symptoms (including a bit of phlegm and coughs).  Accordingly, we set off slowly!

Immediately I started hankering for my mountain bike.  It was very hard to tell how manageable the steepest gradients would have been in the rarified air, but by and large, this would have made for great mountain biking, particularly in the opposite direction!

A very grand style

After about 90 minutes, we came to the intersection with the main track from Dochula Pass.  There we just happened to meet another group, who excitedly reported spotting a red panda down below.  Going in search of it ourselves would add an estimated 20 minutes to our walk, and without any hint of bias, Singye asked if we wanted to go down. We gave him the thumbs up, and started walking briskly down the hill - with gravity on our sides it seemed to be no problem to move quickly!  Perhaps the thrill of the chase helped as well.

As we descended, our sense of anticipation grew, all the while hoping that the animal would (a) still be there, and (b) that we would look in the right place!  Neither seemed certain, but as luck would have it, we were soon admiring a beautiful creature in its natural habitat.

We'd already learned that Singye was 36 years old (one 12 year zodiac cycle older than Kaitlyn and Khulan, as it turned out) and had been guiding for 15 years.  Despite being barely 24 hours into our visit, he made it clear that this was far from normal.  In fact, this was the very first time he'd seen a red panda!  In that context, I was amazed at his restraint and deference to our wishes - the choice to take the detour had been entirely ours to make.

Until Singye's friends saw this photo, they didn't believe he'd actually seen the panda, sightings are so rare!

Overloaded with cuteness, we eventually tore ourselves away.

A red panda, in the wild!

It took us about 35 minutes in total to do the down-and-back trip, and then another half an hour to get to the monastery.  After a sandwich, we did a lap of the building ("... always clockwise ...") but unfortunately didn't get the views of the Himalayas which are typical at some months of the year.  Nonetheless, the nearby ridges were still impressive.  

Trees!

We were all fascinated to know if we'd get a second sighting of the panda on our way down.  Reinforcing the decision we'd made, it was no longer there, adding to the sense of good fortune we all felt.  

For virtually every moment of the descent, I imagined being on my mountain bike.  Overlooking the challenge of getting the bike to the top, on the face of it, it seemed like it would make for the most enjoyable trail for someone of my capabilities - feature laden without being overly technical.  

From time to time we'd pass prayer flags, and these were particularly abundant near the trail head.  

Tshagay was there to meet us, and we drove straight to Om's for lunch.  Just as that was coming to an end, a disturbance in the trees across the valley turned out to be a posse of grey langur monkeys - another rare and auspicious sighting.

After lunch, we visited the Simtokha Dzong - a large 400-year old fortress, that serves both religious and adminstrative roles.  In order to enter, Singye had to don a white scarf over his national dress.  We also stopped by an archery range - targets are 130m apart, and we sat a mere 15m or so from the target, totally exposed to a wayward arrow.  Based on the attitudes of the locals around us, I suspect getting hit by an arrow is even rarer than seeing a red panda!

It happened to be Om's birthday, and we were invited to her home for dinner.  There we met her uncle, who is a Rimpoche, or senior buddhist monk.  We were all privileged to receive a blessing from him in the family's shrine room, which accounted for a significant proportion of the home.  

What a day full of unexpected and rare treats.  Deep down, we all knew we would struggle to beat it!

Walk stats:  8km walked, 3000-3600m above sea level, a chilly 10 degrees

Day 3 - Trans Bhutan Trail and Temple of the Divine Madman

After breakfast, we had a brief opportunity to dress like Bhutanese, at which point I much better understood how Singye's outfit was engineered (I was intrigued by the two pleats at the back of his garb, which turned out to be the sides pulled back).  

The Trans Bhutan Trail is pretty much what it says on the can - a 400km route from one end of the country to the other.  It runs up the gully below Om's place, and after a very short drive up the road, we began our attempt to connect into it.  Hindsight is a beautiful thing, and it told us that we should have started 50m further up the road.  

Marker post for the Trans Bhutan Trail

An original pilgrim route, and in use for centuries, at least in this valley, the trail was being overrun by progress - farming activity or other private development.  In the forest, the trail was typically marked by white paint on the trees.  Intersections were marked, and the configuration of the two pain splashes served as a direction marker.  

Right turn ahoy, due to the position of the top bit of paint

From time to time Singye would explain the often-times religious significance of some man made object or other, but this was mostly forest bathing at its best.  

A road ran on the back side of this wall, but using it would have been at odds with clockwise passage

As the time passed, I found it quite hard to work out where we were in relation to the road to Dochula Pass, since we were generally at the bottom of the gully.  What was certain was that we would cross the previous day's access road, but exactly when that would happen was anyone's guess.  Unlike on the previous day's walk, I didn't think much about my MTB - this section would have been laden with hike-a-bike.  

Nek minnit...!  I remained photographer while Singhe took on the role of rescuer

Just before we actually did reach the driveway, we took a short break in a clearing which featured a pair of stupas.  As with many others we'd see during the week, each contained a large water-spun prayer wheel, and one of them was functioning as designed.  A 20m long water race above it diverted some of the stream flow, which ensured the prayer wheel in perpetual motion.  It wasn't clear who was reaping the benefit of that, but for the time being it was us.  

At the driveway, Singhe warned us that the track condition was about to deteriorate, and offered to call for the van.  Despite the steep valleys, and buildings and other infrastructure that used traditional construction methods, at no point on our entire visit did we appear to be without cell coverage.  We three visitors had all declined an offer of a local SIM, so we weren't glued to our phones, but Singhe was regularly using his.  In this case, Saruul did accept his offer, and we left her waiting for collection.

I really do think I would have enjoyed a life as a civil engineer, and while I do love pristine nature, man's intrusions on it do generally fascinate me.  A god-awful low frequency hum got louder and louder as we climbed, and I eventually asked Singhe about it.  I'd never in a million guesses have anticipated his answer - it turned out to be one of Bhutan's bitcoin mines - and I suppose it must have been the cooling system that we could hear!!!  

Since getting home, I've seen an article claiming that Bhutan is one of only four countries that use 100% renewable energy.  (Another three countries are within a rounding error of 100%, and NZ is 16th, based on 2022 data, at 85%.)  Bhutan's geography is prime for hydroelectricity generation, and alongside being a major export (to India), clearly some of it is being used for crypto mining.  

Rhododendrons were in bloom, and were everywhere

One final source of fascination was to understand how Bhutanese harvested timber.  A fallen tree below the track had been processed where it fell, cut into planks before those were hauled out of the forest - possibly one by one on someone's shoulder.  

When we reached the pass, we met Saruul at a restaurant, where we enjoyed the warmth and good food, and her company once more.  Once we were done with lunch, Sarah and I committed to one further section of walking.  The style of the track changed once again, and this had me yearning for my Yeti.  I suspect that if I'd had it, I'd have either ended up walking a fair bit, with or without the need for some first aid.  The trail was steep, and there were sections of stone steps which seemed both challenging and unforgiving.  

After about 40 minutes on foot, we joined Saruul in the van, and then ensued an insanely long descent - while Dochula pass sits just shy of 1000m above Thimphu, the Punakha Valley, into which we were descending, was another 1000m lower.  More bike cravings ensued!!! 

The long drive gave Singhe plenty of time to tell us the curious story of the Divine Madman, and by the time that was over, we had a good context for the star of the afternoon's stroll, the phallus.  En route to a temple in honour of the madman, we passed a multitude of souvenir shops, each laden with ornately painted penises, and some creative mashups, the grandest of which was an airplane with 80cm long fuselage and jet engines all paying tribute to the fascinating local legend.  

At our hotel, it was time for a wash.  Sarah got a bit of a fright to discover a tick on her belly.  There were some small marks on her skin, but with Saruul's help (and greater expertise in these matters), we managed to convince ourselves these were where it had been hanging on, rather than feeding.  It was a crazy ending to a day full of fascination and surprise, just what you need on holiday!

Stats:  13km walked up and over Dochula Pass, and another 2km walk later through ride paddies and running the penis gauntlet.  Max altitude 3200m, min 1300m

Day 4 - Punakha Valley attractions

After breakfast we took a short drive up the valley, and set off on a walk to a spectacular multistoried monastery, perched high above the river.  Sarah and Saruul just beat a small bus load of tourists onto the first swing bridge of the day, and it was the first time we didn't feel like we had the place to ourselves.  

We initially climbed slowly through rice paddies - these were empty, and surprisingly shallow (probably no more than 10cm of water, when in use).  When the track tipped up and we began the climb in earnest, there was no obvious sign that our altitude training was paying off, even despite a lack of urgency in our pace.  About two-thirds of the way up the hill the track split, and of course we headed onto the loop in clockwise direction.

Singhe briefed us about the monastery just before we entered the main grounds.  As was customary, we ditched our shoes outside, and I stowed my hat.  There was prayer underway on each of the three floors, independent, but somehow coordinated.  Officiating on the top floor was none other than the deputy to the Chief Abbot of Bhutan, and Singye gratefully received his blessing.  We were able to exit to the roof by taking another steep staircase, and a policeman there ensured we did not traverse the area directly above the senior official.  

After making our way down the hill, and after negotiating a series of terraces, we spent half an hour on a lovely river trail.  My eyesight was more than up to the task of identifying some rafters, but wasn't sufficient to convincingly identify what might have been an otter's head.  

After regrouping with Tshagay and the van, we accepted a suggestion to go to see the longest swing bridge in Bhutan.  

Photo: Singye

It would have been rude not to cross it, and given the sun was out in force, it was delightful to be able to have a mid-stroll ice-cream on the far side. 

After another short drive, we stopped in a park on the river bank.  There, we had lunch in a gazebo, which was lovely despite a very strong wind that had decided to join us.  It was a nice setup - food had been prepared offsite, and we were one of three groups being fed in this open air restaurant.  

A few minutes walk down the road was an impressive cantilevered bridge over to the Punakha Dzong - a fortress that serves as both the adminstrative and religious centre for the valley, and a tourist attraction to boot.  

The fortress was itself spectacular, but one of the most fascinating features of the buildings wasn't man-made.  There were some huge beehives hanging above the main entrance into the inner courtyard. 

At first glance, the brown exterior of the hives looked like it might be dirt, but every now and then a visible shimmering effect would confirm that the brown colour was from the bees themselves.  A+ nature.  

After not pining for a bicycle for most of the day, we began our drive to Phobjikha Valley.  The road ascended over 2000m, and had some very appealing sections that I would have loved to have knocked out under my own steam.  There were a few small villages on the way up, which immediately were translated into places to stop for sustenance, and then we started passing yaks!  The van made it all effortless, but ones ability on a bicycle to not only see everything but photograph it, is unsurpassed!

It was dark by the time we reached our hotel, itself sitting just below 3000m above sea level.  We'd been told a bit about our destination - a popular domestic tourist destination, and a place the locals refer to as "Little Switzerland", and we looked forward to getting the lay of the land when we could properly see it!  At dinner time we sat near a young German woman who was dining with her guide, and enjoyed swapping notes with them both.  

Stats:  just shy of 6km to see the first monastery, then short walks to follow.  

Day 5 - Gangtey Nature Trail

I passed through Switzerland very briefly during Le Cycle Tour de France in 2018, but what I saw when I looked out the window in the morning reminded me much more of Mongolia!  Wide open spaces, livestock, and no fences to speak of.  

Apart from its tranquility, one of the claims to fame of the valley is that it is a winter haunt for a few hundred Black-necked Cranes, who leave Tibet for the slightly warmer conditions here.  After breakfast, we visited an information centre, where we learnt a bit more about the bird, and conservation efforts to protect it and its habitat in the valley.  

Karma (wounded and unable to fly) and Pema (for company)

The drive across the valley floor had been very rough, so we walked back across to the start of the Gangtey-Phobji Nature Trail, another section of the Trans Bhutan Trail.  After passing a stupa and doing a lap, we admired a local doing some basket weaving (getting ready for the potato harvest, Singye suggested) and meanwhile keeping an eye on his livestock down below.  He was a lovely sight, and Singye surreptitiously slipped him a small donation by way of apology for the disturbance and attention.  

Passing through a pine forest, and while admiring some recently cut planks, a massive shadow passed near by.  Singye suggested it had probably been a Griffon vulture.  Whatever it was, it must have been huge.

Back out in the open we passed through a small village, and I admired the range of construction methods these fine folk have command of!  Despite extensive woodwork, nails were not traditionally used.

The last bit of the walk was steep, and we sat in the sun for a while before knocking the last 20 minutes off.  After Sarah's fright the previous evening, we checked in on the odds of picking up another unwelcome traveller, before actually sitting down!  

The walk ended at another fine monastery, where my personal highlights were of the avian variety.  Circuling over us for a few minutes were half a dozen Griffons, maybe wondering if we were going to collapse after the hill.  Inside, we enjoyed watching some ravens adeptly drinking from a leaking tap.  

All good things must come to an end, and what awaited us was a long drive all the way back to Paro.  It was a whopper, but a late lunch stop, a short break at Om's hotel, and a tiny bit of touristing (a 600 year old iron chain bridge across the river just before we reached Paro) broke things up nicely.  Our hotel overlooked the airport, and so before turning in for the night I checked the morning's flight schedules on FlightRadar, lest iit would be convenient to geek out over a landing or two.  

Stats:  5km recorded and a further kilometre up through the village to the monastery.  2800-3000m operating altitude.  Zero ticks.  

Day 6 - Bumdrak Monastery Campsite

After a solid sleep, I woke to discover I wasn't the only one anticipating a bit of planespotting! 

Indeed, one of the early arrivals was taking the northern approach, of which we had a good view.  Before landing to the south, the plane first flew low above the runway in the northerly direction, before disappearing from view for a few minutes, during which time it pulled a U-turn in the valley.  When it reappeared, the plane's wings were at no point level until moments before it touched down - a very impressive sight indeed. 

Worth zooming in to find the plane!

After breakfast, we finished packing for our penultimate hike of the trip.  Warm clothes and toothbrush were the order of the day, as we would be camping overnight, high above Paro (and at 3800m no less).  For the most part, we'd walked in t-shirts, but we knew a cold wind was very possible, so packed conservatively.

Singhe had enjoyed a night at home (he lives in Paro, while Tsaygay and Om are based over in Thimphu), and was in his usual good spirits as we set off in the van.  We first passed through Paro and soon after began a long ascent on another beautifully sealed road that had more of a driveway vibe to it than anything else.  

We soon bade Tshagay farewell, and started our walk through regenerating forest - still in recovery mode after a massive fire during the pandemic.  We'd driven to an elevation of 2700m, and already were high above Paro. This gave us stunning views over the city and down the runway, partially obscured by a spur that planes have to swerve around before touching down.  

Two Scandinavian women and their guide were in the process of passing us when there was a bit of a commotion ahead.  We all did well to get out of the way of four ponies who were on their way down to the trail head to pick up supplies.  They'd arrive at the camp not long after us - the young fellow escorting them later told us he is a Sherpa, and having spent the last 9 years living at the camp becoming well and truly accustomed to the altitude, knocks the return trip out in under 3 hours!  Fit guy!

The trail was steep, and invited the same curiosity I'd felt during most of our walks - what would it be like to try to ride?  We were walking pretty slowly, and while I felt like I was getting more than enough oxygen to support that level of effort, there was always the hint that there wasn't much to spare.  Climbing effectively on the MTB, particularly when it is steep, is an all out aerobic effort - not the sort of thing that works out well in thin air!

After passing some yaks mooching beside the track, the ridge flattened off a bit, and we had a snack in a small shelter.  We could see things were about to steepen up again, and at the top of a cleared strip through the forest (for powerlines), we could see our lunch spot!

I was carrying Saruul's bag, both to take a bit of load off her, but also to speed the walk up a little.  I enjoyed walking at my own pace, and drifted off the front of the group a few times.  Aside from the solitude, that brought with it the benefit of some long rests, which generally involved finding a good looking rock to sit on.  That invariably gave me a good view of the track below, which in turn had me fantasising about being on my bike.

Despite the intimidating view from below, the lunch venue came soon enough, and we found a table set for us behind a well placed dirt wall.  We were sheltered, both from the warm sun, but more importantly from a cold wind that was blowing.   Two young men (the "lunch boys") had carried hot food down from the camp above, and a thermos of hot water to make instant coffee.  It all hit the spot nicely.  

Singhe had warned us that the track above was also steep, but mercifully, the higher reaches of the mountain didn't feel harder despite the increasingly thin air.  As promised, the track eventually flattened off, and our trudge started to feel more like a regular walk.  

When Sarah and I arrived at the camp, we were warmly welcomed and ushered to a table.  There we found hot tea, and a bowl of fresh popcorn, and while we barely made a dent in it, it was much appreciated, and a bit out of character (not something we'd been served before).  

We had the option to add a 2-hour walk to visit a Sky Burial site, a further 400m vertical above the camp.  Singhe had told us that while almost all Bhutanese are cremated, this is not the case for infants, who are brought to mountaintops like this one, and are left to nature.  Sarah and Saruul noted that sky burial is also still common in Mongolia (but for all ages).  I'd be lying if I said that I had an abundance of energy and any desire to squeeze in more exercise, but the primary driver to stay put was out of respect for the intimate practices of the local people - it was bad enough visiting temples while they were in use.  

This decision felt even more sound when soon after the weather clagged in, and for a time it was even snowing!  By this stage we'd put on all the clothes we'd carried up the hill, and I was wearing four layers under my raincoat when Sarah and I joined Singhe to check out the nearby monastery.  Unfortunately it was locked up, but that didn't prevent us from ascending some steep staircases on the outside of the remarkable structure.  

Bumdrak Monastery

Sarah and I had a double bed in our tent, and we hunkered down in it under an impressively heavy set of covers.  This served the dual purpose to both while away a bit of time and to keep warm! Whenever we poked our heads outside, it was still snowing!  

At the specified time we relocated to our private dinner tent, to find Saruul already there and enjoying a cup of tea beside a gas heater!  Before dinner was over, the staff delivered to us three hot water bottles, accompanied by the pro tip "if your feet are warm, you are warm".   

The weather turning made for a dramatic end to a remarkable day, full of interesting experiences, cultural, natural, and technological.  

Stats:   8km walked, from 2700m to 3800m elevation. 

Day 7 - Tiger's Nest Monastery

After a messy sleep, where I struggled a bit with temperature control, and wasn't always able to tune out the sound of the tent flapping in the wind, I woke with a bit of a headache.  This seemed likely due to the altitude - Sarah and I slept at 3200m when we crossed the Andes back in 2019, but this had upped the ante considerably.  I also suspected caffeine withdrawal, which I tried to do something about over breakfast.

On a more positive note, there was plenty to take my mind off my aching mind.  We had woken to beautiful clear skies, and spectacular views across to some big mountains, themselves sporting a fresh dumping of snow.  

After breakfast, we finished packing up and started our descent towards one of Bhutan's claims to fame - the spectacular Tiger's Nest Monastery, more correctly known as Paro Taktsang.  While the track we'd climbed on was well worn in, and hard to miss, it was clear that this route was much less popular.  

As we descended, our sense of anticipation grew, but there were other things to enjoy en route, including another monastery which had been hosting a meditation session for years, if the sign was to be believed. 

Tiger's Nest is perched on the side of a massive cliff, and doesn't come into view until you're almost there.  Most visitors walk from below, and once we reached the intersection with this main track, the difference couldn't have been more stark - we literally saw more tourists on approach to the monastery than we'd seen on the rest of the trip, including at the airport!

Paro Taktsang and behind it, the ridge we'd walked up the previous day

This involved a steep descent to below the monastery, followed by an equally steep climb.  Someone at the trailhead was clearly doing a roaring trade in walking stick rental, I was fascinated to note.  

Cameras were forbidden in the monastery complex, and were put in a locker for the duration of our visit (along with our GPS units, which clocked up a few kilometres while locked away - Sarah's 3km more than my own)!  Once we'd finished our tour, and had retied our shoelaces for the final time, we retraced our steps back to the intersection, slowly but surely.  

The path down was well worn.  I was intrigued to see that there was a parallel route used by small horses, which served as a shuttle service for folk who wanted to reduce the amount of walking they'd need to do, but didn't completely eliminate the need for some fitness, and altitude tolerance.  The steep descent was a bit hard on the legs, but we got some great views of the monastery before we were done with it.  

Our snack supply had been exhausted by the time we got to a cafe not far from the end of the walk.  Singhe recommended we forgo food there, keeping our powder dry for nicer, cheaper options in Paro itself.  We survived until that late lunch, and followed that up with a bit of souvenir shopping on the main drag, during which time we were buzzed by a Drukair plane bringing in another plane-lot of visitors eventually bound for the Tiger's Nest!  Singhe told us that no matter the duration of one's trip, the last full day was always the Tiger's Nest - all the better to acclimate somewhat, but also to finish off with a bang, as we just had.  

Stats:  9km walked, give or take, and 1200m elevation between start and end points.  

* * *

Before heading to bed, we said farewell to Saruul.  Her airport pickup was at 5am, and she was happy for Sarah and I to squeeze in another couple of hours sleep before our own departure.  As the original instigator of the trip, she admitted to having had a wonderful time, and her only regret was that she was now without a dream destination!  I hope that she was proud of all the walking she'd done also - close to 50km over the week, and in thin air to boot.  

Between breakfast, and check out, I managed to attend the first hour of my monthly Faculty Management Team meeting, thanks to an unexpected switching off of daylight savings, and the modern miracle that is Zoom.  Singhe and Tsaygay whisked me away from that, and we were bidding them farewell at the airport minutes after.  

Ka kite ano!

I'd had a wonderful time, with many contributing factors - one notable one being that I'd not been in charge.  Sarah and Saruul had done a great job of finding Om, and she and Singhe had designed a fantastic range of activities for us.  I can heartily recommend Om Travenza to anyone contemplating visiting Bhutan.  

Singhe was a fantastic guide - incredibly knowledgeable about the various places he took us to, of buddism, and of Bhutanese culture.  Incredibly polite - to the extent that he always seemed uneasy when I held the door open for him - any to all intents and purposes, a native speaker of English, he was great company, fit and strong, and very interesting.  He did his job so well, and in a way that made us relax.  We didn't spend as much time with Tshagay, but he played his role perfectly too, and we enjoyed our time in the van.  

I enjoyed the built environment - from the fascinating local construction methods (homes, fortresses, bridges and others) and the surprisingly shallow rice paddies, to the remarkable Paro International Airport flight paths and the horribly out of place and intrusive - but otherwise fascinating - crypto mine up in the hills!  

The natural environment was often times breathtaking, and not just because of the altitude.  The steep valleys, rivers and streams, healthy forest including the flowering rhododendrons, were all really nice to see, especially when we were on foot.  Unfortunately the air quality wasn't great in the Punakha Valley, but at least we had the ability to leave it after a couple of days for the relatively pristine condition elsewhere.  

We got incredibly lucky with our exposure to wildlife:  seeing the red panda (and being with Singhe when he saw it) may well be a highlight of our lifetimes, and it was also very awesome that Sarah wasn't bitten by the tick (good luck in the sense of avoidance of bad luck)!  Griffons and grey langurs were also novel, and it is hard not to get excited when you see a yak.  

Finally, the cultural elements were also fascinating, from the obvious sense of national identity, interesting (and at times challenging) practices, and also the significant role Buddhism plays in the country.  Much of this was enriched for me by travelling with Sarah and Saruul, and discovering the deep connections between Mongolians and Bhutanese.

The trip was wonderful, despite the regular bike withdrawal symptoms I experienced.  On the other hand, the format enabled us to have some real quality time with Saruul, eliminated a huge amount of logistical strain, and didn't put us in a position where we had to confront how underpowered we currently are!  I would like to visit this region again - Nepal perhaps - in the hope that the style of trails is not unlike those we sampled in Bhutan. 

If you were able to put up with the ignominy of reading a walking story on a biking blog, thank you.  The writing process was noticeably different, but I can't promise I won't do it again in the future!