Sikkim’s valley of flowers

The trip planned for the day is to Yumthang valley and we have moved to Lachung village from Lachen the earlier evening in preparation. After that nerve-wracking ride to Gurudongmar Lake and all the discomfort caused by high altitude, we are sure that this drive is going to be easy. And so it is, comparatively speaking.

For one, it is a mere 24 kilometers away from Lachung village. Also, Yumthang is at a much lower altitude (just less than 12000 feet – which is cold by any standards but we are feeling complacent, having bravely borne the highly disorienting altitude the day earlier).

This route is very pleasant, through roads lined with rhododendron trees in full bloom on either side. Dubbed the ‘valley of flowers’, this area comes under the protected Shingba Rhododendron Sanctuary (home to over 24 species of this flower) and is especially pretty during the early summer months when the ground is covered with flowers of all colours. Herds of yaks graze peacefully along the sides, unfazed by curious visitors who point their cameras at them (the driver says that this used to be only a grazing pasture for yaks before tourism suddenly burst into the scene).

Yumthang valley itself is the stuff of picture postcards – ‘alpine meadow’ is a term used by guides and guidebooks in describing it. Snow-capped mountains surround the valley from all sides while the Yumthang river flows placidly in the middle. And tiny flowers blossom in clumps from the green grass, small carpets of yellow and purple as far as the eye can see.

It is the ideal picnic spot; children screaming and running around while adults look on in amused indulgence. The water of the Yumthang is crystal clear, a blue-grey speckled with green and looks deceptively inviting. However, it is freezing cold (even though it is peak summer), as we discover when step into it tentatively.

The other must-do thing in Yumthang valley is the hot sulphur spring across the river accessed through a rickety wooden bridge. Known locally as Tsa Chu, the spring is believed to have curative and healing properties. As everywhere else in Sikkim, colourful prayer flags flutter in the breeze across the bridge, waving out to visitors. At this spot, there are several small stalls selling tea and snacks along the banks of the river and the tourist groups make their way here from the open valley for refreshment.

Yumthang Valley is best visited in summer to experience the flowers in bloom and enjoy the mild, slightly sunny weather. However, in summer, there is no snow in this region and eager tourists usually head further up to Katao (roughly 15000 feet), known locally as Yumsedong or ‘zero point’ and said to have snow through the year.

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Published in the India Tube as The valley of flowers…

…and popcorn at 17000 feet

Continued from: Breakfast at 14000 feet…

And so duly momoed, Maggied and acclimatized, we begin the second part of the drive towards Gurudongmar lake. Just in case we imagine that the rest of this drive is going to be as easy as it has been so far, our driver warns us to brace ourselves for what is ahead.

Buckled up and bundled up, we are off. The roads vanish rapidly, we are mostly hurtling along on a graveled and pebbled path and in an hour’s time reach the world’s highest cafe at 15000 feet. Managed by the army (and they are extremely proud of this), the cafe has tea and coffee and serves as another break point on this journey.

This stop is brief and our driver is eager to get on. Gurudongmar lake is open for visitors only till around noon, since after that the winds make it impossible to stay on. Stones fly, say locals, and I am not eager to witness that. And so we set off again, the roads getting progressively worse. There are no signboards, no indicators to show where we are headed; our driver plows ahead on what seems like pure instinct. The landscape is stark and stunning, the snow-capped mountains – the Kangchengyao range – seem within touching distance. range. Most of this part of the drive is in monochrome, a dry brown with a few spots of snow visible in the distance. The driver is impatient at the various photo stops I make; wait till you see the lake, he says, you will forget all this.

17000 feet is seriously disorienting. Before we step out the jeep, our driver gives us detailed instructions; breathe easy, take small slow steps, sit down and relax as much as you can. We head first to the small temple managed by the army where the jawans serve us cups of hot tea. And then we walk, er, totter unsteadily, towards the lake. “I am walking somewhere, but my feet are going somewhere else”, I hear a young woman say loudly in Tamil. Indeed. My feet seem to have a life of their own, whereas my brain seems to have switched off temporarily. I even giggle suddenly, at periodic intervals but my husband is too preoccupied – with his own disorientation – to comment on it.

The lake itself is reached by walking down a steep 50 odd steps and one look at it, we turn even paler than we are. So, we decide to take it easy and sit down by the steps, watching the lake and the few tourists who brave the biting winds and buzzing ears to make the descent to the lake.

Like the other Sikkim lakes, Gurudongmar (named after Guru Padmasambhava) is held sacred by locals; indeed, it is the most revered of them all. The lake remains frozen for most of the year but at this time of the year, the waters are a clear, sparkling blue. Prayer flags flutter in the wind, like everywhere else in Sikkim. The wind starts to get bitter, cutting through the layers of protective clothing we are ensconced in. Despite the discomfort, we are loathe to leave so early but it is getting to time for the stones to start flying and we reluctantly head back towards Lachen, and then on back to Gangtok.

And oh, the popcorn motif? We have been advised to carry it with us, as a cure for altitude sickness; keep chewing on popcorn and nothing will happen, we have been told. And for good measure, our travel agent has thrown in a bunch of branded, packaged, sealed popcorn. Well, a few kilometers before Gurudongmar, a loud noise – thankfully not my ears but the bags of popcorn that start bursting under the high pressure – and pop go the popcorn, one after another masala’d pack. And the contents of the one remaining pack that we dutifully chew on, I regret to say, only add to the feeling of acute nausea and discomfort on our way back; so much for home-grown remedies.

Breakfast at 14000 feet

4.30 a.m. and it is bright outside our tiny hotel room in Lachen. At just less than 9000 feet, Lachen feels pleasant; my teeth are already chattering but I choose to ignore that and focus instead on the dozens of families already up and about, children shouting to get on to their jeeps first. You see, I am mentally preparing myself for the long drive ahead to Gurudongmar Lake where I fully expect to freeze.

Anyway, heavily layered and clutching bags of popcorn (to combat altitude sickness, according to locals), we set off, bright and early. Gurudongmar Lake is just over 60 km from Lachen, a journey that is expected to take over four hours on mostly non-existent roads.

Warm clothes and inners? check. Popcorn bags? check. ipod and camera? check. Mental fortitude? er, um, check.

The first half of this drive is easy; we stop at Thangu Village around 7 a.m. for a rest and breakfast. Thangu, at 14000 feet is a new dot on the Sikkim map, having appeared suddenly after tourism towards Gurudongmar Lake opened up in the last few years. Thangu is a small hamlet with a few homes that serve as food stops and basic night halts for the more adventurous type of traveler. A halt at Thangu, midway to the lake is essential to allow acclimatization before carrying on.

So at Thangu at 7 in the morning, we get out of our jeeps, stretch our achy limbs and step into this tiny room. The householders have been at work for a while already; fresh steaming momos appear in front of us, Maggi is work in progress while cup after cup of tea is served.

And we sit there in that room in the middle of nowhere, sunlight steaming in through the single window straight on to our faces, adding to the warmth of the hot tea cups in our hands. And we tuck in to momos and Maggi, feeling complacently sorry for those in the package tours who have only warm bread and jam included in their breakfast. I don’t know if it is the cold outside or our own hunger, but this is easily one of the of the best breakfasts I have ever had.

Momos and Maggi at 7 a.m. at 14000 feet.

The building we have stopped at has a small shop facing the street, selling perhaps everything a traveler in that part of the world may need, while the top floor has bathrooms and a couple of rooms to let out. There is a small hillock of empty beer bottles just outside this room, left there by tourists and the army folk, say locals.

Locals are going about their work with a smile and without much warm clothing; this is summer for them. Small children are running about with just a thin sweater against (what I think is) the biting cold while adults have nothing but a careless shawl around their shoulders. The village is not yet used to visitors and the locals are friendly, if shy. An hour at Thangu and we set off to Gurudongmar; we stop once again on the way back to Lachen, this time to recover from the high altitude discomfort (all those momos and Maggi did not help, nor did those packets of popcorn).

Continued here:…and popcorn at 17000 feet

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

ten thousand saw I at a glance / tossing their heads in sprightly dance / Buddhist prayer flags…

Everywhere I turn in Sikkim, the prayer flags. Red and yellow and white. Some old and faded, some new and bright. But all of them confident of their place under the Sikkimese sun.

Wikipedia says – Traditionally, prayer flags are used to promote peace, compassion, strength, and wisdom. The flags do not carry prayers to ‘gods,’ a common misconception, rather the Tibetans believe the prayers and mantras will be blown by the wind to spread the good will and compassion into all pervading space. Therefore, prayer flags are thought to bring benefit to all.

Early in the morning at Lachung village in North Sikkim – it is bright by 4 a.m. – as we are walking lazily on this tiny bridge, mother and son walk up briskly, the mother holding the flags rolled under her arms. She sits by the side and unrolls the long strip and they both carry it to a convenient place somewhere in the middle of the bridge.

As we watch, the boy clambers up the metal railings with practiced ease and starts tying up the flags. The mother, far from being concerned (atleast apparently) stands down and barks out orders in am imperious tone. It is important to get it right… move to the right, tie it harder… (I assume from the way her hands dance along with the flags; she is speaking in the local language)

The boy sits on top of the bridge, the Teesta in one of her more placid points flowing way under him, balanced on a thin strip of metal. Faith has been known to make people do stranger and more dangerous things…

Now, back in Bombay, I sit typing this, in a mood that is certainly vacant and pensive, thinking back on the two weeks in Sikkim…
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude…

Buddhist prayer flags