Yumthang Valley

Our group finished the final 24 km of our journey in under and hour. We climbed a further 1000 m to the centre of the Yumthang Valley.

The short bit of road was quite a change from earlier where terraced crops and banana trees had been prevalent. As we drove, we entered a land of coniferous trees and countless rhododendrons. Many of these rhododendrons were like small trees, adding a low forest canopy no provided by the sparser large trees. Others were like the garden variety you would see at home with smaller leaves and overall sizes. It was hard to say if they were just younger versions of the same plant, but it’s probably that they were different species. I remember reading that the area has over 30 different ones.

As we neared the end of our assent, the clouds and foliage began to clear. The valley basin was an empty sea of pebbled riverbed and pasture. We stopped next to a bungalow built by the British, which was the only building save for a few shacks used by yak herders.

Micah, Michal and I got out of the car, and I immediately ran around getting as many photos as I could. Although we were at quite a high elevation, it was hard to tell under so many tall peaks. There was a mountain at the end of the valley that must have been 5000 metres in height, and the ones bordering the valley had to be at least 600 metres taller than the valley bottom.

A large row of prayer flags was erected along part of the riverbank. I wondered if they would be there if it were not for tourists. They were particularly photogenic, so I dismissed any apprehension of being unoriginal and shot a ton of pictures.

I had seen a herd of yaks near the bungalow. Wanting to get some yak photos, I was startled to look back and see a herder drive them up the mountainside. Rather than lose my chance at a good picture, I ran after them. I forget or didn’t realize how far I had ran down from the road to the river. After a good run up the hill, I snapped a few shots and then caught my breath overlooking while overlooking the valley bottom. The cool morning air caught my breath producing a steady stream of white fog.

Everyone was assembled at a yak herders hut near our parked jeep. A local man had toasted some bread and boiled tea, which he served along with apples and hardboiled eggs. I was the last to eat breakfast, due to my running around, so I exercised no restraint and ate nearly all the remaining food. The tea was salted instead of sugared, as preferred by Tibetans. Micah mentioned that it was less salty than he had had before. I felt that anymore salt would have ruined it. The tea had been prepared with yak milk and a brief survey revealed that that the driver and cook preferred yak milk, while the guide preferred cow milk.

On our way to the hotel, we stopped at a natural hot spring. Micah and I jumped right in to the sulphurous water. Michal sat out, as she had been sick from the coldness of the hotel and the high altitude.

After lunch and packing, we started our long journey back to Gangtok. The driver had to stop by his house to pack a change of clothes for an overnight stay. His matronly wife served us more salt tea, and we snaked on dry corn as we patiently waited.

We learned that our driver only taxis tourists on the side. He is a local Yak owner, owning 56 of the animals. This explained the size of his house, which although normal in Canada, was quite large compared to nearby residences.

On our way back to Gangtok, it seemed like our driver knew every other jeep and truck driver for the first 50 km. You could tell he had a contagious sense of humour. He would stop and have mini conversations every time we passed another vehicle. Most would laugh; some would roll their eyes. It almost seemed that he was having a running conversation that including every one he talked to He yelled out something funny to a young woman doing dishes in a roadside spring. She smiled, yelled something back and threw water a bowlful of water in his open window.

We arrived in Gangtok hours later, after being reminded by countless signs that “driving with care makes accidents rare.” In the confusion of arrival, I was whisked into a cab and sent to my hotel without saying anything. Micah and Michal happened to choose the same hotel out of their guidebook and checked in a little bit after I did. We decided to go for supper, and later exchanged e-mails with the promise I would contact them if I go to Israel.