A month in Bhutan

Paro, Bhutan

Flying into Paro airport in Bhutan is quite an adventure in itself. It is said about this airport, that it is one of the most difficult landings in the world, and I see why. Flying very low, between stunning scenery with very few and scattered farmhouses and narrow valleys, it looked like a world that once existed. Low hanging clouds, and no sight of the civilization that I usually see surrounding an airport. Turning right and left, the pilot of the plane eased this seemingly oversized machine onto a small airstrip that looked like one that only small planes could land on. A few air holes and rollercoaster bumps later, we were on the ground.

Bhutan, The land of Thunder Dragon, also known as Druk. A small kingdom of app. 700.000 people. Their government is an equal division of a monastery body and the ministers. The monastery body rarely interferes with political issues as the ministers rarely interfere with political matters. The king has the final word in all matters. The present king is the 5th king of Bhutan, and what is common for all Bhutanese are,  that they truly love and adore their king. From the stories I have heard he is a very warm king, and he takes time to care for his people.

Immediately I felt the cold, fresh mountain air. Paro is situated in 2450 meters above sea level, which actually gave me some altitude problems  in the shape of dizziness and motion sickness was never far away when driving.  Coming from hot and humid Bali, and hot, humid and polluted Bangkok, the cold hit me through my skin and bones and first thing I did was put on all the clothes I had with me in the shape of sweaters and socks and shoes. The architecture, the dress code and smells were unfamiliar and beautiful. I knew instantly that this was a very unique place, and I had so far seen nothing but just the outside of the airport. We were dropped off in the middle of a road, where we followed a small dirt trail, leading to a couple of farmhouses 100 meters up from the road. No car could go there. We stayed here for 3 nights, and it does not get more local than this. I was thankful for the stack of blankets and I could not shake the feeling of having arrived in a time machine, 500 years ago. I loved it! I could not wait to see and feel this country further. I fell in love with the family pet dog that reminded me so much of my beloved sweet dog Taco. I felt that Taco was so near me in spirit there.

There are so many street dogs in and around the cities, and most of them are in surprisingly good shape, but when I see a puppy on the street, dirty and hungry and alone, it pains my heart and my instant instincts are to take it in, feed it and give it some affection. But here, they are not house pets and life partners, here they are wild and shy, and they are living in packs, fighting for territory and food like any other wild animal. I could not resist greeting and petting every dog I met on my way and I only encountered friendly dogs with wagging tails. There are many stories of rapid dogs that will attack you in the night time, however I never saw one single aggressive dog during my stay. When I did come across one dog that was very badly injured, and starving, I tried looking for help in the shape of a vet or a shelter, but nobody seemed to know how to or care to help, and they said that they maybe could give it some food, which definitely would not have helped this particular dog. The Bhutanese don't believe in killing. Not even for mercy. And that belief is very strong. I tried finding the dog again, but it was gone from sight. I can only hope and pray it got relief from life in the shape of a quick death.

The first 3 days in Bhutan was spent with a little sightseeing, arriving in the middle of Paro tschu. A festival to prepare the living for death. There were dancers acting out scenes from the intermediate state between life and rebirth, called 'bardo' where you are set accounted for the life you have just left, the gods deciding which new life you should be reborn to.  Showing that all your actions in life have a far-reaching effect.  What you are today is a product of your actions yesterday, and what you will be tomorrow isa product of what you have done today. I love that way of thinking. Very colorful masks and costumes, thousands of people watching, wearing Gho's and Kiras in bright colors, and ancient music and chanting mantras. We visited a monks quarter, met a lama and had lunch with them. We were very lucky to experience this. I tried standing in a long line of pushing bhutanese people at 4 o'clock in the morning for 2 hours, in pouring rain, waiting to get a blessing, while listening to a very powerful mantra blasting through an old crackling loudspeaker. It almost made me forget the rain and cold to listen to that.

I met two very high standing lamas known as Rinpoches. A Rinpooche is known as a Precious One that is a revered teacher who is recognized as a reincarnated mind stream from a previous life. I received  blessings from them, again feeling very privileged. One was asking much about the western world and our opinion on different government matters, asking the difference between our country and Bhutan. Very interesting and a special conversation, and I could sense the soul of this man, so calm and gentle and with so much knowledge on Buddhism, and perhaps even past lives. Many people ask for this opportunity  for years, and never get to have an audience with either one of them.  This Rinpoche is a previous Dorji Lopen of Bhutan (a scholar and meditation master that oversees all of the monastic body and monasteries in Bhutan that receives this title by the King of Bhutan).  This Rinpoche's name is Ngawang Tenzin Rinpoche.

The other Rinpoche was a 14 year old boy who was discovered early in his present life to be a reincarnation of a very powerful Lama, and he is now being taught in a monastery at a Buddhist college to become a Rinpoche - A Precious One. He was brought to this monastery at the age of 3 to begin his training and has been here since. He was sweet and innocent and seemed to be an ordinary 14 year-old, but I have seen a YouTube video of him at 4 years of age where he was dancing and singing a complex ancient song, and talking in a stream of old Buddhist teachings. He was definitely special.  This Rinpoche is known as a special lama that previously discovered special Buddhist treasures and texts throughout Tibet and Bhutan.  His is popularly known as Tulku (a title for teacher) Drukda Dorji Rinpoche.  

I am proud to have met them both.

Thimphu - the biggest city in Bhutan. Population app. 80.000

I spent the following week teaching the staff of Green Dragon Media, a Bhutanese media company trying to bid into the international market of image clipping and retouching, while inbetween attending meeting after meeting with my dad. I learned a lot about the Bhutanese way of doing things and it is all about asking for permission for every move from different government departments. Especially when you look for funding.

The next weekend we made a trip to Phunakha. On the way, driving through the breathtaking Himalaya mountain range, stopping at the top of a mountain and walked around a temple, with hundreds of small white temples surrounded by countless colorful prayer flags hung in the trees everywhere I looked. Looking down on the low hanging clouds, with a spectacular view of thousands of km on each side I felt I was on top of the world. Reaching Phunakha,  the temperature changed to a real summer heat. I tried driving for a while, and the narrow roads gave me quite a challenge, and judging the distance turned out to be a very interesting adventure, maybe more so for the three passengers in the car. I was driving like I was drunk. We visited a fertility temple situated on the top a hill overlooking rice fields and I found a companion in the shape of a stray dog that accompanied me on the last part of the hike up the hill, holding my hand with his mouth the whole time.

The next day I visited Punakha Dzong. A gigantic monastery, filled with burgundy dressed monks, all was very quiet and peaceful, very few tourists. This was where the royal wedding took place last year. I lit a large butter lamp for the loss of my sweet dog Taco, and I spent the next hour crying for my loss of the best friend I ever had. This place was very overwhelming for me, and I cannot even begin to explain the massive surge of emotion running through my whole system, through every breath of air I took. The pain of saying goodbye became very fresh, and I struggled the rest of the day to stop the flow of tears.

Back to Paro

Returning to Paro, seeing my dad off to Denmark, I could begin a new adventure to the southern part of Bhutan near the Indian border, to a wildlife sanctuary, that up until very recently has been completely closed for visitors.

Back to Thimphu

Oh the art of mastering communication!

If I were to say one thing less fortunate tendency in Bhutan, it would be the skill of planning ahead and communication, or rather, the lack of.  Here follows a little example of the advantage of planning ahead instead of doing everything at the very last minute. I am not the best planner in the world, and I appreciate other people offering to help, but when communicating simple messages and passing on simple knowledge fails, it sometimes seems easier to do things yourself.

Returning to Thimphu, where my passport and my Indian visa was waiting at the Indian embassy to be picked up , I was eager to get going.  When we arrived at the embassy I found out that we were apparently almost 2 hours late in picking it up. The guy that had the key to the safe containing my passport and visa had to go out for meetings and other things. They explained that they had given this message to the person assisting me in obtaining the visa, but this also wasn't communicated to me. So I had to come back later. They could not tell me what time I should be back.

Finding out in the last minute that I needed Indian Rupees, which apparently was very difficult to get, I rushed to the bank to exchange currency. It was a few minutes past 12 and when I get to the counter, I was told that they only change currency before 12. Pleading with them, that I needed the currency today, they then asked for the form. I had no idea what they meant, but found out I had to fill out a form, along with flight tickets - which I didn't have since I was travelling to India by car - and my passport - which I also didn't have since it was still at the Indian embassy being processed. I went to speak with the manager of the bank, and he asked me why I needed Indian Rupees. I told him I was travelling to Manas, going through India, and I would need money for gas and food. He said I could not get Indian Rupees unless I had flight tickets to India, and that was the final word.

I went back to the Indian embassy to get my visa a few hours later where I had to wait for it to be processed. I was then told that they offered to have it ready before, but was told not to have it ready before the evening, which at that time I planned to be in Phuntsholing in South Bhutan.

Finally after some more waiting I got my visa and at last we were on our way...

after just one more quick stop at the office.

Now I could relax and start looking forward to my adventure.

Only 6 hours later than planned.

From Thimphu to Phuntsholing.

The drive is slow, on hazardous narrow roads, and seems to be only about avoiding crashing into either large Bhutanese trucks that was pulling out in the middle of the road to avoid hitting the overhanging mountain. All the time watching out for dogs or cattle casually hanging out in the middle of the road, their favorite spot, it seemed, was in a curve.

The view changes from beautiful astounding scenery of dense forest in all shades of green on steep mountain sides, to bare rock covered mountain sides.

You see the landslides, all bearing tragic stories of lives lost and large rocks in the middle of the winding roads, all reminding of the sheer luck you must possess not to be hit by one of these falling giants.

We stop at a very suspicious looking  - some might call it local - restaurant, placed right at the top of a mountain with a magnificent view, right before sunset. The sky is a misty, pinkish color and it looks like a watercolor painting.  I feel brave, and agree to try the local and perhaps also the only dish they served. An Indian specialty. Which later I realized was not such a great idea after all. After an hour I got the punishment for being too brave. And so I only saw the bathroom of my hotel room in Phuntsholing, hoping and praying that it would be over before entering India, and the long drive to Manas.

Phuntsholing to Manas

7 am and we are crossing the border to India. It was amazing how clear this border is. Everything changed dramatically. People, architecture, temperature, scenery, vegetation, everything! We had to find an immigration office to get an entry stamp in my passport to prove that I entered the country legally, so I wouldn't get any trouble leaving the country again later that day. I always thought that an immigration office would be situated in the same vicinity as the place where you actually cross the border, but apparently that is not necessary in that part of India. The immigration office was in the middle of the border town, in something that looked like average and public apartment buildings. The only sign that there was something government related business going on there, was the military dressed man, sweeping the sidewalk behind the open gate. There, I filled out an arrival form like the ones you get on an airplane just before landing, and finally I got my stamp.

I somehow decided that moment that I liked Bhutan a lot more than India.

Not that the two countries can ever be compared at any level. Bhutanese are very friendly, humble and never speak their minds and they smile, no matter what they might feel, they smile.  Indians, stare excessively and rarely smile, no matter what they might feel.

The road from Phuntsholing is bumpy and at times dramatic, again with avoiding passing trucks and honking of horns to the point of getting your hearing ability damaged. Indian trucks have taken the honking to a whole new level, where it actually plays a loud foghorn like tune, instead of the usual one tune honk. They seem to pass even though there is not really room on the opposite side of the road, and it seems to be a game of the bigger car wins the right to do whatever they feel like. It's a way of driving one has to get used to or leave the country. No use in getting annoyed, because that is just the way it is.

The reason we needed to make as early a start as possible, because we were told that in order to get to Manas National Park, we would have to be escorted by military into a high risk area, with a lot of killings and kidnappings. And that was only from 12 to 1 pm.

Asking for directions were also a part of the fun ride in India. We didn't exactly know how to get to Manas, so we thought it was the best idea to ask the local people as we went along. We knew that at one point we would reach a city where we had to leave the main road aka the high way, and drive up towards Manas National Park and the Bhutan border. And we knew that there would be no signs telling us when we reached that particular city of which we did not know the  name. The first person we asked said it was only 8-9 km before we should make the turn off the main road. Happy campers we were, since we thought the trip would be much longer than that, and we were in no rush. The next man we asked had a different sense of direction and distance. He said we still had 50 km to go, and all of a sudden we were going as fast as the road would allow us in order to make it on time. With the sudden endings of the paved road and deep holes, that was quite the bumpy experience. After asking the 5th person for directions we also had 5 different  opinions on how far it actually was to that city. All between 4 km to 60 km, so all we could do was just get there when we get there. The Indian way, I suppose. Finally we reach Barpeta, the bottleneck city, the place we had to turn off the main road. garbage all over, non-stop honking of different vehicles, total chaos and people all over selling everything you can think of from empty plastic bottles to vegetables, and rickshaw taxi rides. Humidity, heat and dust all added to the flavor of a typical Indian city. Smiling is evidently not a part of the everyday life there. We found that there was no escort, and if there was one, it would be absolutely impossible to locate it from this massively chaotic place. So we decided to get som lunch. We found another suspicious looking restaurant, a bare room of concrete, 10 tables and 2 gas cookers with some small pans on it. It must have been a popular place to eat because the place was packed with people.

We sat down in a corner on some sort of a table and was soon after served a tray, not a plate, a large metal tray overloaded with rice and some curry bowls. I wasn't feeling very brave at that point, still trying to overcome the experience from last night, and with no bathroom in sight, not a safe one that is, so I only ate the rice and some bread. All the time while 20 pairs of eyes were indiscreetly staring at me with absolutely no expression or friendliness, simply staring. Intrigued, and a bit uncomfortable, and one time I actually tried to smile at the staring eyes with no luck, so I just minded my own business while eating. After a short drive we finally got out of the crowded city of Barpeta, and finally found a sign where it said Royal Manas National Park, "Take nothing - but memories. Leave nothing - but footprints" , and another sign with Save The Tiger, Manas.

The immigration office was the next stop, I had to get the Exit from India stamp in my passport, since we were again leaving India to get to Bhutan Manas. That took 45 minutes, of bargaining for a price, they saw a white face and immediately went for triple the normal price. Not a lot in western world, but still, the corruption makes me not want to pay more than I am supposed to. They didn't like it, but let me through for 300 Indian Rupiah, which is meant for maintaining the road in the park, but he neatly packed the money into his own pocket. Next step was walking across the dirt road to get the immigration officer to stamp my passport. He was looking at that passport for 20 minutes, trying all sorts of different approaches to get me in trouble so I would have to pay a little bit more. While he was doing so, I simply looked at the loud Bollywood movie blasting on the 30 year old tv in the corner of the room. Finally we convinced him that I was doing official work for the embassy, somehow that was what is said on the road permit I had,  and he let us pass.

Royal Manas Nation Park

Calm, deserted, serenity, quiet. Sounds only from grasshoppers and birds...

I realized at that point, that the way people are polluting the Indian cities with noise, cars, garbage and overpopulation, gives me much stress. Now I could finally breathe again, and instantly my eyes start looking for anything that moves. Life! animals! I love it!

A short 1 hour drive, and we reach the end of the road with a border pole and two men. One of them greeted us kuzuzangpo, in Tzongkha and said he had been waiting for our arrival. 15 minutes later we reached the Manas river, the end of the road by car. We jump into a narrow long wooden boat, and cross the river which is beautifully running through mountains of raw jungle as far as the eyes can see, and a couple of elephants resting on the stone beach further down. This is almost untouched by tourists and it shows. Trekking trails exist only where needed for forest rangers. In this jungle, tigers, leopards and countless amazing species lives and roams free. I cannot wait to see these amazing beautiful animals in their own untouched nature!  This however as it later turned out, would not be a very easy subject to photograph.

When we get to the other side of the river bank, we climb the stairs that lead to the park settlement, the Manas Range. Here, there are around 40 people working to maintain this area, mainly to keep it safe from Indian poachers, since the border is only a few hundred meters away from this area.  The Indians are not poaching for animals only, they are gathering  a plant called Pibla, which they use for medicine, and they also steal timber. The last report on poaching was in December of 2011, but they rarely see any Indians crossing the border: The military and the forest rangers are patrolling to make themselves visible, simply for maintaining and to be present. They however always patrol in large groups of 10 men, all armed to their  teeth for security.

We were met by Tenzin the Park Manager, usually situated in Gelephu, to my luck he happened to be there for a few days, with some representatives from WWF. We sat down for tea, a much appreciated drink in Bhutan, they have tea constantly. Ás it turned out they were not informed of my arrival, they had only had a few tourists there, and never more than one or two nights. My plan was to be there for around 10 days, hanging around forest rangers and experts on wildlife and nature, and that they would have an idea as to where the wildlife might be, and we could get there by riding on elephants. So there I began the plea to whether  there was any way of working around this minor obstacle of doing something out of the ordinary. I must admit I had my doubts. But once again, the Bhutanese mentality, and the kindness and flexibility of these people at Manas, have put whatever suspicions I had to shame. We had some more tea, and before I knew it they said I could stay and my bags were put in a room with private bathroom, a nice bed with mosquito net, and of course my very own pet in the shape of a giant spider. The spider was kicked out, and I moved in, and had some more tea.

This place is also where the 5th king goes for holiday, and I see why. The serenity of this place is amazing. Only sounds comes from birds, geckos, grasshoppers, nothing else.

 No planes spotted in the sky, ever.

 Golden Langurs hanging around nearby, water buffalo, beautiful giant butterflies, elephants, lizards, and the thousands of small birds in the shade of  blue, red and yellow. Parrots, woodpeckers, great hornbills, eagles, owls, etc.

The tourism is very new to this area which up until the beginning of 2012 was closed for any visitors. This also means that research on animals here is very limited. Nobody really knows anything about the whereabouts and the behavior on animals. These wild animals living in this large national park are very shy and unaccustomed to people, and the very scent or  noise from humans would make them run away. The vegetation in Manas is primarily dense jungle and very difficult terrain to explore. Only a few meters in from the riverbank, it turns into an almost inaccessible trek for humans. This of course is ideal for the animals who would rather be left alone in nature, but not so ideal for a wildlife photographer who wishes to see and capture these magnificent creatures in their own habitat.  WWF is involved in Manas, funding the research and conservation part, setting up camera traps to find out what kind of wildlife is here and making waterholes to attract wildlife in the winter. So far only a few people have actually seen tigers or leopards, and they are the people working here. The only photography of cats in this area  are from camera traps with sensors and mostly captured in the night time.

The government  opened up for tourism in January of 2012 by ICDP (Integrated Conservation Division Project) by creating 5 eco camps from the north end of Manas to the very south, right by the Indian border. Each housing around 4 people at the time, placed at beautiful locations, perfect for exploring the Manas jungle, and placed so that people can hike all through the national park in 4-5 days. So far in the month of may, only 2 people have visited these eco camps. They still have not made any advertisement for these camps. For wildlife photographers however, this would not be the ideal place, as much as a camouflaged hide near a waterhole or stream.

After a few unsuccessful, but very pleasant, walks in the nearby jungle, with no luck in finding any animals, I heard that the forest ranger and the park ranger were planning a 4 day trek. They were exploring parts of Manas that had never been explored before. They told me it could get quite rough, but they had never been there before, so there was no way of being prepared for this trip. Their goal was to reach a waterfall deep in the core jungle area of Manas, and to see if it would be possible in the future to bring tourists to this place. A little worried of the terrain and whether I was fit enough for this unknown journey, I decided to join on this trip. Partly hoping to see some wildlife, and partly to challenge myself physically as well as mentally. Expect the unexpected.

We left in the afternoon 12 people total, with cooks, porters, rangers and me. carrying only my camera gear, and a single change of clothing and a borrowed raincoat in case it would rain. Even though June is the real beginning of monsoon season, it has started to show already, with heavy rain, and deafening and frightening thunder and lightning storms.

We once again crossed Manas river to the other side where a 25 year old truck was parked. 10 people on the back of the truck and 3 people in front, we started the 11 km ride on rocky winding roads towards the closest city, Panbang, with a vertical wall of a mountain on one side, and vertical drop on the other. Passing a large construction truck on these roads can be a very interesting task, but I am sure I was the only one to notice that. Reaching Panbang, 'the big city', we did some grocery shopping. Funny thing about general stores in Bhutan, there are general stores side by side, and many of them. They are all selling the exact same things, of course until one of the runs out, and they happily says 'try next door'. Competition is obviously not in their business plans here.

We unloaded all the gear, crossed a long metal suspension bridge over the river, where another 25 year old truck was waiting. 15 people on the back and 2 in front, we once again travelled on a very new road, large boulders had fallen onto the road, rivers flowing over the road, and many Indian laborers working to build the road. Once this road is finished, it will be possible to reach this part of Manas from Bhutan. Also part of the plan for opening to tourism. We were dropped 30 minutes later and a short hike down a small trail, led to yet another long suspension bridge, which led to a small village where we would be spending the night, and from where we would be starting the trek the next day.

Changazam Village - Khangpa people

A small cluster of around 12 houses , made from various kind of wood and bamboo, children running around between chicken, dogs, cats, mules, horses, and a few pigs, the adult were sitting around inside the houses. Situated in the middle of nowhere, Living is very simple here, no electricity, water is provided from the river just below. They had a few domesticated cows, from which they get milk, butter and cheese. These people live the way their ancestors did. We were welcomed into the house placed on the very top, to take rest and of course, to drink tea. One of the foresters asked me to join him down the beach to a place where they might have some fresh cheese for the dinner. Halfway down the beach we met an old couple, carrying cheese, and we started bargaining to buy the cheese that they were bringing for their children as a present. 200 ngultrum changed hands and we ended up with all their cheese. I tasted fresh cheese for the first time, and it was delicious, and very very far from the taste of the processed cheese that I know from the supermarket. We returned to the village, and the cooks started dinner, and I was invited for the local drink called arra. It is a sort of rice wine, and there are a few different types of arra.

 There is the clean concentrated arra, but this one was fried with eggs. A very interesting, thick taste of something unexplainable. Strong, but not like hard liquor. A young lady sat in front of us with a saucer and a big pot full of arra, and pour relentlessly into any cup that was not completely full. It is very difficult to say no to a third round. I am not leaving out second round, since there is no way to say no to seconds, that would be rude and show them that you do not care for what they are serving, whether it is food, drinks or anything else. Their custom is, that they fill the cup to the rim, you take a sip, and they fill it again. The key is to take only one sip, let them fill it again. If you drink half the cup, they will have a chance to fill it more, They will not remove the cup before there is none left in the bucket and the cup. The persistence in this nation is amazing, they really do not take no for an answer, so either you learn to say no very quickly or you will end up overweight faster than you thought possible, and possibly drunk more often than you care for.

Sitting on the floor in the house we had a nice dinner of cheese and chili 'ema datsi' (of course) and rice. After the dinner, the whole village gathered in the house, and they danced and sang for hours. Ancient songs, they dance in a circle while singing a very high pitched flow of Tzongka songs. I was asked (forced) to join the dance, anything other would have been rude, and the choreography looks very simple, but it really is not for a foreigner. Especially after a few cups of arra. But I gave it my best shot, and I think they had some good internal laughs at me. They would never show that they laughed at me, but I am sure they must have. I am pretty sure I looked like an elephant in a glass store. After 4 last dances they were done, they asked me to show them a western world style dance. I was trying to explain that I didn't know any other than the bumping around at a discotheque, which I definitely was not going to show them, but again the persistence in these people and the sheer disappointment on their faces when I said that, made me get up and grab a person, and did my best to show them a few jitterbug moves  from the 60's I remember learning in grade 9. They absolutely loved it and they were clapping and smiling, and made it all worthwhile making a complete ass of myself. I really love the almost childlike and naive attitude of the Bhutanese people. Sarcasm and ridicule is not a part of their behavior and I have not seen any form or shape of  this during my stay. A quality that is very rare in the world these days.

We all went to bed, exhausted after hours of dancing and drinking. I slept in the house temple with open windows and butter lamps flickering in the dark on a very hard worn down mattress, excited for the next day's adventures, my head full of images from the day that had passed and my heart full of the traditional songs.

Udgang river to Kuklung base.

Next morning we left after a breakfast of rice and chili and tea. The trek started out easy, wearing flip flops, walking along a sandy beach surround by spectacular and enormous green mountains, that turned into a rocky beach along the river. I was wondering when the trek would be wild and unexplored, climbing mountain sides in the dense jungle. What I found out later was, that the plan was to walk along the river the whole way. I remember being a bit disappointed at first that it didn't seem to be a very challenging hike. A thought that would later be put to shame. Changing into hiking boots I was now crossing small river streams from time to time, the first hour I persistently took off my boots and socks so I wouldn't get them wet. Tshering, a forest ranger in Manas, who I call Rambo, a very fast walking, humorous and fit man, the one that told me I should lose some weight (!), and who later told me I was the toughest most energetic person he ever had as a guest at Manas (so there!!) was trying to explain to me that we would be crossing the stream many times,  and when I looked up the stream, I found that it was - obviously - getting deeper and deeper, I decided that he was right, it was a waste of time to avoid getting my feet wet.

By the time we had to lift up the backpacks from our backs when we crossed the river, the thought and feeling of dry shoes seemed long gone. The further up stream we went, the hike got increasingly more difficult, with large and slippery boulders, and when you looked ahead, it seemed completely impossible to walk or climb those rocks. But they kept going and so I kept going. Slipping and sliding through water and climbing dangerously slippery rocks,  I felt like I was walking on brown soap with rubber shoes. We took few breaks, laughing at each other when we did the Bambi-on-ice imitations, and the spirit was high and positive. I especially shared the Bambi role with Sonam, one of the Manas headquarter employees. We fell constantly to the great amusement of the others. I was happy to have him on the trip, he found laughing easy and he was definitely my sidekick or I was his. My friend Kinga made a habit of walking right behind me when crossing the endless streams with increasing current,  and when I started to fall he would grab on to my camera bag, saying that he would save my camera, and not me, from getting soaked. Exactly the way I was thinking. We stopped for lunch, I was tired and exhausted, and my feet looked like giant raisins on steroids. I felt like we  had walked at least 20 km, and i was shocked to learn that we had only covered 6 km... in 5 hours. After an hour lunch break we pushed on the last half of the journey that only got more and more difficult. Just before reaching the place we camped for the night, we came across  a deep beautiful turquoise pool of water surrounded by two vertical slippery cliffs, so I decided to sacrifice the last dry spot on my shirt to wetness. So I swam while all the others in the group struggled to monkey climb the treacherous cliffs.

It turned out to be a harder swim than I thought since the current was so strong and I was getting absolutely nowhere. With heavy hiking boots I gave my all to swim the 10 meters to the other side to much amusement of the cheering group. 30 minutes later, to my great relief, we stopped to set up camp. The waterfall was further ahead, and we would attempt to find it the next day after some good rest.  Right after all the tents were up, and the first campfires were lit, it started to rain. Heavily! Thunder and lightning followed by a serious rainstorm lifted up the tents and put out the fires, but the rest of the crew relentlessly kept protecting the last of the burning wood with umbrellas and plastic covers, while I was hiding in one of the tents eating crackers and drinking whiskey with a couple of other people.  After the rain stopped we  desperately tried to dry a bit of clothes by the fire, with little luck. I went to bed early, with aching knees and a very exhausted body, mentally preparing for the hike to reach the destination of this trip, the waterfall. I was already at a place where no people had been before, in the absolute core of the Manas jungle, which in itself was a great accomplishment for me, but the waterfall was the goal. After a few hours restless sleep, I awoke with burning stomach pains and heavy nausea, which can only mean one thing. So I went outside in complete darkness and I will spare you further details. The rest of the night I found little rest, lying on a very hard rock bed, cold from the dampness of my body and from the rain, and with a nausea that would give me no breaks. The morning was not much better, and unfortunately I had no other choice than to let the group leave me in the camp while they went searching for the Zarpkabla waterfall. The day was hot, the sun was burning merciless, the flies were annoying and there were thousands of them. I tried sleeping in the tent until the heat became too much to handle, so I lay by the river, my body halfway in the water and there I slept. Even if a tiger had come by, I wouldn't have noticed in my passed out condition. I am sure that the tiger wouldn't eat me even if it were starving, it would have stayed clear of eating a half dead and sick human.

The group came back late afternoon, they had found the waterfall, but it had been a very difficult hike. I finally came to life that night, skipped dinner and went to bed early, secretly dreading for the trek back down the following day.

When it rains, the stream water gets very muddy, and since we had no other options, we had to use this water to cook with, and to drink and it is quite difficult for the body to cope with that amount of bacteria, so the next day a few of the people were sick too.

We started the hike down, slowly, making shortcuts through the jungle whenever we could, avoiding poisonous leaves and trees, finding wild mushrooms for dinner, removing leaches endlessly, Some places were so dense that the local made great use of his machete to cut through the branches and leaves and make a passage. Between the many leaches grabbing on to everything that moves, and the hot, humid jungle, I longed for the cool wet walk in the river. The trek down turned out to be easier than the way up, but my body was weak, I was thirsty and the sun scorched from a blue sky. Around 4 km from the end destination, I was crossing a rotten tree trunk covered with slippery leaves, and my foot didn't get the right stance, so I slipped in a perfect backwards banana peel manner. I really thought I could save the fall, but as I felt my body falling in a free fall down through branches, head first, I knew that I could only pray for the softest landing possible. My camera bag was of course my main concern, but when my fall came to a stop and my lower back taking the first blow by a pointing rock, I shifted my concern to myself, starting to worry if I had to be carried the rest of the way. Hanging head down, feet up, clinging to grass and branches, staring into a small cave full of spider web and suspicious looking creatures in the dark, I just concentrated on staying calm. Only seconds later I was lifted up by one of the local villagers who came along as a guide, and placed feet down again. I stood for a couple of seconds feeling my body inch by inch to sense if I was seriously hurt, and found that it was only my lower back that took a beating. But what a beating that was. I handed over my unharmed camera bag, also referred to as my baby, to Sangay, a very welcomed offer at this point since I had trouble walking from pain. Secretly I wish the fall had been caught on camera, because it must have looked very dramatic. The only proof of the incident was a beautiful black and blue bruise.

After a few more painful hours of walk, we finally reached the beach from where we started, and that was truly a sight for sore eyes. We stayed for lunch and headed back to Manas where we arrived that night.  This was an amazing trip, hopefully other adventurous minds will also get to hike at that place, but until then I can say that I am one of the first people to explore on that little spot on this planet, and the first foreigner to ever set foot here. How many places in the world are left like that I wonder? I am so thankful to the people working at Manas for welcoming me on this trip.

Back at Manas

Every night now we are under attack from violent thunderstorms with lightning that makes the hair on your body rise in chills. The thunder is the loudest and angriest I have ever heard. My ears were literally hurting from the loudness.  Last night I was woken by thunder and a lightning so close by, that the electricity plug threw sparks, and I swear that my whole body was shaking from fear and my heart was racing. My computer was still plugged in, I was certain that it had been fried. Thankfully it survived, and this along with it.

Maybe it is true that the thunder in Bhutan really is an angry dragon, and last night someone had really pissed off this particular dragon. 

I have tried to disguise my human scent with elephant rides, to try and catch a glimpse of some wildlife here in the Manas area. I even tried my luck and went across the border to India on a jeep safari. I have yet only seen barking deer, buffalo, a single wild boar. I have realized that the wildlife in Manas are so unaccustomed to people that the mere scent of a human makes them flee, long before we see or hear them.  We see many tracks from the animals, so I know they are here, but somehow that just won't  satisfy my photographer soul. I will have to plan my next visit better, to another time of year, and  perhaps place myself in a watch tower waiting for the big cats to walk by instead of trying to find them.

My last day on Manas Range, I decided to go on a last elephant ride in the afternoon, my only goal and expectation was to enjoy the weather, scenery, and the feel of riding an elephant one last time before I would leave this magical place.  Photographing and seeing wildlife was given up.  After an hour of the soothing rhythm of the elephant pace, we saw a single huge wild boar, a few deer and an eagle flying in the distance. Happy and relaxed I just enjoyed the sightings without photographing any of them. The animals were too far away and the light was not good.  We moved on and all of a sudden we had some beautiful Golden Langurs in the treetops, deer all around us, and behind the clearing of the trees further ahead, three wild elephants appeared. I was very excited and I thought we would leave them and they were moving 100 meters ahead of us. The elephant driver pushed into a faster pace and we followed the three elephants through the trees into a clearing and then they saw us. It was a mother and her two babies, the youngest was no more than 2 months of age. They all came towards us to check us out, very wary of every move. Their trunks were up, sniffing the scent still approaching us though very cautious of every step they made. I sat quiet on the elephant, very excited, taking photos of these three amazing animals, and they had not seen us sitting on the elephants. The mother started to growl and acted a bit aggressive, and when they were only a few meters away, the elephant driver said a human sound, well it almost sounded like the sound from cartoon Donald Duck, the three elephants turned 180 degrees so quickly and ran as fast as they could. It was an amazing experience, and these elephants have not seen many humans before.  We left them, actually they left us and we didn't follow, and we started the ride back to camp in a beautiful sunset. I had a great last evening, happy and exhilarated and fortunate to finally have seen some wildlife.  Now I could leave with just one wildlife story, instead of none.

I leave this place with a heartwarming feeling of have been treated like royalty by the people at Manas Range, trying their very best to show me both the animals and feel of this place.  The kindness and willingness to go beyond their means to help and assist, these people of Bhutan have truly overwhelmed me, and have inspired me to always be as helpful to others, both strangers and friends.

I truly believe that this could really be the last really wild and partly unexplored wildlife sanctuary in the world. There are no experts or researchers, and nobody really knows exactly how many tigers or leopards are living in this area. Only estimates. The only problem would be that poachers could kill with no one noticing, unless the remains are found. I am sure researchers will come, eventually, but until then, I will just enjoy the fact that there is at least one little spot left on this planet that humans are not controlling.  

I secretly hope that only camera traps will be able to catch these creatures on film for many years to come in the Bhutan Royal Manas National Park.

If you have made it this far in the reading, I sincerely thank you for spending the time, experiencing the moments of highlight and adventures in my travels. I hope you enjoyed it and have found it inspiring in some way to learn more or maybe even one day see with your own eyes, the many things this little beautiful hidden kingdom has to offer.

Observations and facts on Bhutan:

·         Tattooing is illegal, plastic bags too

·         Smoking is illegal, if you smoke on public streets you will be fined.

·         Communication and action is based on the Mañana theory - everything is done at the last minute. Planning is overrated.

·         Achieving a drivers license is also overrated - if you can drive, you drive.

·         Street dogs are much more street smart than humans when it comes to traffic.

·         It is against Buddhist belief to kill - but they eat meat.

·         If they don't get chili in their food - they haven't eaten, that goes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

·         If you don't like rice and chili, and lots of it, you will find it difficult to eat in Bhutan.

·         Tuesday is dry day, no alcohol is served or sold.

·         They get their name from a Lama, not their parents, and they don't have surnames or addresses. They are found by city, job title or area in which they live. Making it quite difficult for a postman, I would guess.

·          'We are leaving now', in Bhutan this sentence means: 'we leave sometime today..or tomorrow'.

·         Monogamy is also overrated, most Bhutanese have no idea what that word is invented for.

·         A main street is filled with many different stores, in Bhutan too, but they all sell the same items, and they are all general stores.

·         If you hand something over to another person, give it with both hands, palms turning up. If you receive something, take it with both hands, palms turning up. It is the respectful way of giving and receiving. Unless it is between friends, then it is more casual.

·         They have the cheapest power in the world.

·         They will rarely speak their mind. Even when specifically asked for an honest opinion, out of respect, they tell you what they think you want to hear.