Reader’s Digest
126 september 2019
L
anding in Bhutan’s Paro
valley is nothing if not high
drama—only a pilot offi-
cially trained in the unique
terrain is allowed to land.
Our descending plane ma-
noeuvred through parallel ranges, took
a sharp turn to the left and suddenly
the valley was in sight—the Paro Chhu
river gushing over a bed of large, white,
glacier-polished pebbles; the unmistak-
able Rinpung dzong (Bhutanese mon-
astery and fortress) standing tall against
snow-covered mountain slopes and, as
we emerged from the aircraft, the pine-
scented, clean, spring air!
I’d been to Bhutan before, but this
time I was determined to make the
most of Bhutan’s peerless natural
beauty through birding and camping
trips with my husband Prashant, our
trip organizer Karma and Yeejay (EJ),
a professional birding guide.
Our first night in Paro was meant to
help us acclimatize to the 7,000-feet
altitude and its characteristic chill.
Early next morning, we were back at the
airport, hoping for the clear weather
we needed for a safe, cross-country
helicopter ride to Trashigang, a town
nestled in the cold, broadleaf forests
of east Bhutan. Our pilot, a calm and
competent Englishman, declared: “I
will fly intuitively and weave through
the valleys wherever visibility is clear.
In case we don’t find an opening in the
mist, we turn back.”
Flying over the forest, we could
see the tops of conifers and silverfirs in the higher peaks, as well as
larch, spruce and hemlock—all
distinguishable from the air by their
shapes and unique shades of green.
As we approached Trashigang, a
startled cry from the pilot snapped
us out of our reverie. The only land-
ing place for our chopper had been
taken over by a local market! “I can’t
land in the midst of all these people
and stalls,” he said. His friendly, chatty
tone switched to precise and steely.
We feigned calm, even as our hearts
collectively thumped in anxiety while
the pilot sortied between the moun-
tains, trying to find a landing spot.
A few tense minutes later, a terraced
farm came into view—freshly cropped,
no people in sight. Our pilot circled
the area, then gently touched down
on the field. As we waited for our van
which had just received our new co-
ordinates, a truck full of curious, ex-
cited villagers drove up. One woman
was sobbing because she thought we
were planning to bomb them; anotherphoto^(previousspread):^alamyTHE PILOT LET OUT A
STARTLED CRY: OUR
ONLY LANDING SPOT
WAS TAKEN OVER BY
A LOCAL MARKET!