Phobjikha Valley
Once covered in ice, Phobjikha is a bowl shaped valley
surrounded by irregularly formed mountains carved by years of glacial activity.
90% of the valley floor is protected by dwarf bamboo which helps to distribute
river flow, prevent erosion, recycle nutrients and retain ground moisture. By
winter the shoots have been gnawed to short stumps by grazing cattle, turning
the valley floor into a stubbly wetland. It is an ideal setting for the
wintering Black Necked Cranes to forage for the microscopic creatures that
flourish in the nutrient rich wetland habitat.
Phobjikha is home to more than 400 cranes during the winter months of October-February. Local residents of the valley are the cranes closest neighbors; some have even sacrificed pieces of their farmlands for the birds. The close proximity of humans to this endangered species habitat creates a unique conservation scenario. Since 1987, Bhutan’s Royal Society for Protection of Nature (RSPN) has been educating the local communities to increase awareness and collaboration for the preservation of natural environments and protection of the Black Necked Crane populations. Phobjikha valley is now a nationally protected area and due to local conservation efforts and a community-based sustainable tourism project, the crane populations have grown in recent years. According to the RSPN website, there were 550 cranes, including 63 juveniles counted in Bhutan during the 2013/2014 winter, more than double the numbers recorded in the early 90’s.
Return of the sun
We walk past many baby cows and gaze at distant cranes. The bright glare squints our eyes and dust explodes under our feet with each step. Today is Nyilog, meaning ‘the return of the sun,’ the Bhutanese winter solstice celebrates the prolonged daylight and is a sort of New Year; a day for karmic cleansing. Ploughed fields are empty of people. The fluttering of flags and crows’ wings adding depth to the silence; the profound quiet interrupted only by persistent calls from the raven, answered occasionally by a cow.
Gentle slopes surrounding the wetland floor are divided into rectangular plots of farmland. Agriculture is the only source of income for the majority of local families; their main cash crop is potato, yielding about 30% of Bhutan’s total potato production. There are 49 villages throughout Phobjikha valley but the population is greatly reduced in winter as many locals—known as Gangteps, migrate to lower elevations. Only 130 km from Thimphu, not nearly as far-flung as many of Bhutan’s villages, Phobjikha seems centuries away. For a moment I’m reminded of other places I’ve been—the rough stone walls in the mountains of Colombia and Ecuador, small communities in Peru’s Cordillera Blanca. But in the next instant everything is so unlike everywhere else I’ve ever known. This place is like traveling back in time; the 800 families received electricity only three years ago and many windows still sit open to the elements, empty of glass. (Because Phobjikha is a protected area, the power lines had to be buried to prevent interference with flying cranes).
Little sister has a snotty nose and a look that reveals her
skepticism toward the random chillups
in her village. Her brother speaks good English and his questions seem to put
baby sister more at ease. She stops walking and asks to be carried piggy-back. She
smiles when we call her ‘lazy bum choo’
(pudgy little girl). They veer off to their house, little sis crawling under
the fence while big brother jumps over the top. They both turn and wave
goodbye.
mrc |
We continue to the Ngelung Drechagling Lhakhang where novice monks are playing soccer and puppies wrestle in the yard. Returning down the hill we find the Gangtey Nature Trail which takes us across to the other side of the valley. The sun is beginning to fall, casting the first golden rays across the brown patchwork fields and illuminating the sky in streaks of white and blue.
With the last rays of light, the rest of the flock begins to gather in the marsh, flying in groups of twos and threes from every direction, raising a chorus of honking greetings and goodnights. The moon is encircled in a halo as the clouds encroach over the valley.
Winter came in the Night
At breakfast the fog creeps over the mountains, sliding
slowing down the face into the valley. The rain falls harder now and the fog
thickens. White takes over.

Hours later a hole opens up and the sky bursts through the surface taking a deep gulp of bright blue air. The rain was just enough to tame the dust and refresh the parched fields. Mountains are dusted with powdered sugar and there is welcome moisture in the air. Inhales are revitalizing where yesterday they were dry and suffocating. The contrast between the two days is stark and invigorating; hot turns cold, snow trumps dust.
photo:mrc |
The sun begins its afternoon descent so we find a little
outcrop to sit on and enjoy the golden splatter painting the farmlands across
the valley. With each warm sip of matë, the sky sinks into a
deep, dark blue behind the white washed mountain tops. To our right, a family
tills their field. A crane honks overhead and slender figures fill the sky,
heading back to their stubby bamboo roosts for the night.
*This piece written for publication in Kuzuzangpo-la, In-flight Magazine for Bhutan Air
What beautifully simple scenery. Congrats on the gig amiga. Proud of you! See you so sooooon!! xoxo
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