We arranged our own little trek through the travel agent who looked after our bags whilst we trekked to yuksom. He walked us through the directions with some simple maps, arranged accommodation at a midway point and in tashiding and had our bags taken their. The agent said it was an easy trek but our legs were pretty shagged out from our previous jaunt. We headed up to the dubdi monastery a good 250m in altitude which immediately got us panting and sweating. The gompa itself was quiet, i think only a few monks were out and about. We caught our breath and started the descent down the back of the monastery and across to our first major milestone of the day, the road and bridge near hongri. The forest was thick and wet from the rains. Every few kms was punctuated by hamlets clinging to the stepped slopes. We eventually found our way to road, snaking past us, tantalisingly close just 20m below our feet on the slippery path. All of a sudden the path degraded into two options, a shailed almost vertical slope to the left or a potential mudslide to the right. Niki manages to traverse like a brave cat across a ridge to the shail slope with only inches of flat ground to balance on. I watched anxiously as she slid down the rocks slowly but surely, avoiding any lasting damage. Graceful as ever coming down on her backside, the worst she got was muddy trousers and some scraped hands. (nb i think this daredeviling may have been the result of watching survival programmes back to back on Discovery the previous day). I thought things through a bit too much and with my weight, additional backpack and generally high centre of gravity i decided to try the other route down. I got myself onto a large rock and sat down contemplating broken ankles and bones lacerating their way through my skin. Niki was at the bottom trying to work out a route, the best of which was 80% plus incline down soft soil and sharp rocks. I composed myself and lowered my foot down onto a sturdy rock atop the precipise and it immediately gave way, tumbling its way down 20m to the road below, taking a hefty chunk out of the tarmac as it came to a stop. Ok plan c i thought and niki found another trail that we had missed about 100m back up the hill. I worked my way back and found my way down to the road unscathed.
Off we set down the road with a huge sigh of relief and quickly came to a glorious tropical waterfall cascading down black rocks to a shallow pool near the bridge and then on again into the torrents past a river front farm. We celebrated our escapse from the clutches of near death there with a biscuit and some crisps. We followed the road for a bit until it started to degrade and a small path lead us steeply up the mountain to hongri monastery. We ended up with a very sweet mother and daughter in tow who seemed obliged to lead us all the way to hongri monastery including stopping when we were gasping for air. The mum was carrying a live chicken in a wicker basket and i chuckled to myself as the last time i saw a chicken in a basket was at the black bull in tingley in 1985. We walked through more villages, taking classic indian "short cuts" up muddy vertical fields and walking on top of crumbling old walls to avoid the leeches in the undergrowth. We eventually got to hongri monastery and took in some spectacular views across the mountainside. We then followed our pace setters across the next mountain and finally found our guesthouse for the evening. We were met by the slighlty bashful Mani, who led us to his sisters house overlooking the valleys. We got engaged in a great convo with mani's cousin (also called mani) chatting about the history of sikkim, being part of india, the empire and education. A thoroughly interesting guy who was very intelligent, modest and clearly very passionate about his state (as are all sikkimese, and proudly and quite rightly so). Unfortunately he had to leave and we ate our tea with the rest of the family watching us intently. It was a bit embarrassing as they were obviously new to the b&b business and with the organ grinder (mani's sister) away they didnt really no what to do. The food was simple but hearty and we enjoyed a few games of cards with Mani before going to get some sleep. Our room.seemed ok in daylight but at night it felt like a large coffin. There was a cockroach longer than my middle finger on the table and one of those gigantic spiders above my bed. Mani and his grandad did an average job of getting rid of it hy chasing it under my bed then wishing us pleasant dreams. I turned to niki with a grimace and suggested topping and tailing. We both boshed one of the valium style sickness pills and we were soon off to dreamland but both awoke about 3 deperate to get out of there. Feeling pretty uncomfortable we thought lets get brekkie over and done with and get the hell out of dodge. We were served up leftovers from last night and as i thought this situation couldnt get worse i turned to talk to Mani and the poor lad had just started and epileptic fit. I ran out to get his grandad who came to his aid as we stood outside just trying to keep out of their way. They beckoned us back in to finish and poor Mani was clearly quite embarrassed about what happened and we really felt for him. We ate up as best we could and gave our thanks as Mani's grandad led us out of the village and onto the path to tashiding. Niki made a great connection with this old fella as we parted, he was a ghorka version of my old man! Ah i wish i had a chance to take a picture as on his side profile he was spitting image if about 2/3 of my dad's size.
The trek from the homestay to tashiding was (thankfully) more down than up. We traversed across the hills on tight paths and decided against a couple of sideline ascents to yet another gompa and holy lake. We ended up snaking down a seriously steep rock path that punished our knees with every step. The last few kms were done on the road. We got to our hotel and with its 70s wood panelled decor, empty corridors, wide open staircases and persistent sound reverberation it felt like being in "the shining'. We were the only people staying that night and despite the hotel being vacuous we were looked after very well by the porter cum manager and his wife and son. That evening we played cards and drank appalling sikkimese rum with coke to mask the vile taste.
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