I woke up at 2am, thinking there was a wild thunderstorm - a lot of noise, wind rustling, things being thrown about. As I sat in bed in the silence of the night, it was just the howling of the dogs, bringing back memories of 7 years ago. There was not a sound in the room. Everyone slept peacefully as I breathed in slowly, hesitantly for sudden movement or noise. Relaxed, I breathed out and as I exhaled, I could hear a high school band going nuts - drums, cymbals and all. I breathed once more, and got more of the same - chest wheezing, crackling, a rat-a-tat-a-tat rattle that reminded me of a Ruskin Bond story on the mongoose Rikki Tikki Tavi.
Grateful the Dolma La trek is behind us, wondering how I would reach Darchen with a rattling chest, I sat in bed to somewhat subdue the internal noise. As much as the existence of breath is valued, the racket it produces through the plumbing is unsettling. A short stroll outside at 3am put things in perspective - I had to reach Darchen by pony or foot the next day, and get into the bus for Saga.
In the morning, as we had tea, the ponies, yaks and dogs and the families of the pony drivers and the porters were all in early morning activity - shaking off sleep, ensuring stable saddles for the most part, ready for a short trek to the buses.
The walk from Zutulphuk to the buses is an easy and relaxed walk, but at some point one gets desensitized to the astounding beauty.
It is an easy stroll on the last day of the parikrama, if you are breathing. My lack of airflow necessitated pauses at every 100 meters.
As one walks down the Dzong-chu valley from Zutulphuk ( to Darchen (4790 meters, or ), Rakshas Tal can be seen in the distance. There is greenery, the horses and the yaks graze on the slopes of a narrow gorge. At many points along the way, there are rock collections with "OM Mani Padme Hum" etched on the rocks.
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| almost there |
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| from here, we catch the buses to Darchen |
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| back in Darchen again |
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