I'd been in touch with a trekking agent, Oken, who had sent me a couple of possible treks, and I opted for the Nagagigi six-night trek which runs through parts of Arunachal Pradesh and Bhutan. The trek began on Sunday 28th May, so I left Bomdilla the day before and caught a shared sumo taxi to the town of Dirang and stayed at the town's tourist lodge, where Tashi, my guide, was to meet me the following day. Thankfully the journey to Dirang was fairly short and the roads were in good condition, with more glorious views along the way on another clear day.
During the afternoon in Dirang, I visited a hot spring, which was very pleasant, and also visited a recently-built monastery which the Dalai Lama had opened just a few weeks earlier.
The next morning I met with Tashi and his son, and even though he spoke very little English and my spoken Hindi is non-existent, Tashi and I got on very well and I was struck by his knowledge and experience of the trekking routes, as well as his attention to detail and organisational skills. He occupies a leadership position within the community of villages he lives in and this was obvious by the numbers of social interactions he had with various people at different places during the trek. There did not seem to be many people that he was unfamiliar with!
After loading my stuff into their vehicle, we set off for Tashi's home, where I met with members of his family and enjoyed a delicious lunch of momos, a kind of South Asian dumpling prepared by his daughter-in-law. The view overlooking a valley from their home was wonderful.
The initial plan had been to walk from the outskirts of Dirang to Lubrang, although the weather had turned quite miserable with plenty of rain and mist, which made it difficult to enjoy any of those views. So we drove up to Lubrang, which is the place where Tashi's family came from. Having put up the tent where I would be sleeping adjacent to the main cottage, Tashi, his son and I climbed a nearby hill to take a look around. We were joined by two young lads, Nimatsering ("Nima") and Rinchindrakpa ("Chinku"), who would accompany us on the trek, look after both of the horses that would carry all of the stuff and generally lend a helping hand. All three of them were from the Monpa community, which numbers around 50,000 in total, with around half living in the Tawang area (my post-trek destination), and the rest in neighbouring areas. They tend to follow Tibetan Buddhism, and many were uprooted from Tibet after the Chinese takeover in 1959.
There were a number of yaks in the surrounding fields, and we would see many more of these in the days ahead. They are peculiar creatures in that they are well adapted to high altitudes through having larger lungs than other cattle, but can struggle at low altitudes, where they can quickly suffer from heat exhaustion. For yak farmers, the sensitivity of these creatures to temperature change means that they must inhabit places where the yaks feel most comfortable, so they tend to be a transient set of people, moving up and down the valleys and staying in small, rudimentary wooden sheds. They are an incredibly hardy group of people having to get by in an environment that can be quite inhospitable.
The next day we were to walk from Lubrang to Nagagigi, and we awoke to bright blue skies, and soon after breakfast we set off. The valleys opened up before us as we walked, and the views were phenomenal. Walking along the side of the mountain in the warm sunlight as the distant mountains unfolded was a real joy. In hindsight, it was a pity that the weather could not have remained like this for the whole of the trek, as those were ideal conditions for walking.
Along the way, some of the smaller villages could be seen. We also passed small Buddhist shrines along the way, recognisable with their prayer wheels and flags.
Oken, the tour operator who had organised the trek, had mentioned that this was an ideal time to see wild mountain flowers, and over the course of the trek they were gorgeous and abundant, blending in magnificently with the wider landscapes.
At times the terrain became slightly more difficult as we climbed uphill, but the paths were excellent and as we travelled further, the plants became more varied until at the higher levels there were a number of pine trees. Some of them seemed as if they had been burnt, perhaps through the process of bringing electrification to the region.
Eventually we reached our destination, a small hut where Tashi, Nima and Chinku stayed, while I slept in a sleeping bag in a tent just outside. I can't recall the last time i'd slept in one, but the temperature did drop quite a bit and the ground was quite uneven, but i managed to sleep reasonably well during the trek. It's funny how used we become to light pollution in urban environments, but there in the wilderness there is no light whatsoever, making the head torch i'd purchased in Pokhara in Nepal extremely useful.
Over the time I spent with the three of them, I really came to value their practical skills in all manner of ways: starting and maintaining a fire; chopping and collecting firewood; repairing the huts (particularly the roofs!); tending to the horses; cooking using basic utensils; and fetching water from nearby streams. Nagagigi is a militarised zone, and reaching our destination meant passing through an Indian army camp on the edge of the forest.
)
Sadly the good weather was not to last, and the next day it rained very heavily and consistently. I suppose I hadn't really considered how close it was to the start of the monsoon season, as upto that point it had been fairly dry, and perhaps in hindsight starting the trek a few days earlier might have been beneficial if i'd spent less time in Bomdilla and other places. But then I suppose it might have rained then too; there are no guarantees on the weather front, especially at this time of year in India. Nonetheless the wild flowers looked amazing during the trek to Sangya, although visibility was poor at times, particularly when the mist descended. Terribly frustrating to know that wonderful mountain views were all around if only you could see them.
Yet despite the rain and the mist, the river views were wonderful. At one point we took tea and shelter in the home of a yak herdswoman and her daughter who were friends of Tashi's family. The tea we drank was flavoured with salt rather than sugar in accordance with tradition.
Arriving in Sangya and huddled in a wooded hut as the rain and wind howled outside, I couldn't help but fear the worst for the next day. I watched the guys put up my tent adjacent to the hut, surprised at the extent to which the temperature had dropped and after dinner made my way to the tent and lay within it, listening to the rain spattering upon the canvas. The next day we were to trek to a place called Chomjuk, crossing over the border into Bhutan.
A few hours later I awoke to silence. The rain had stopped and stepping out of the tent in the early hours of the morning, the semi-moonlit sky was staggeringly beautiful with a few ragged clouds fleetingly obscuring the light for a few brief moments. Just to see the light of the moon light up the landscape of the skies, so that even the mountains in the near-distance were lit, was very special.
Despite the previous night's rain, the weather turned out to be wonderful, the best of the whole trek, with fabulous blue skies. I would never have imagined that it would turn out so fine after all of that rain. The hut was surrounded by mountains on one side, and on the other a gorgeous lake, neither of which could be seen properly the previous day due to the mist.
The landscapes were stunning in all directions, and we came across various lakes and tarns in a place of completely unspoilt wilderness. The only other people we met during the whole of the trek were other yak farmers who Tashi was acquainted with.
The further we walked, we climbed gradually to a point where an incredible range of mountains opened up before us. Just magical views in that clear light.
Arriving in Chomjuk, we pitched a tent by the lake and then the weather turned again with heavy downpours that seemed to go on for most of the night.
The next day's trek from Chomjuk to a small settlement between the Sela Pass and Banga Jang was a real washout, and quite an anti-climax after the delights of the previous day, with heavy mists obscuring the views. We stayed in a building used for training manoeuvres by the Indian army, a ramshackle prefabricated building in a sorry state of disrepair adjacent to a gorgeous lake, with around a dozen or so pairs of army boots scattered at one side of the room. I think we imagined it would be warmer indoors once the fire had been started, but it was a deceptively cold night.
During the evening, Tashi and the others told me more about Monpa culture. They explained that there were essentially two types of Monpa; those who had fled the Chinese takeover of Tibet in 1959 (Tashi's family came into this category), and those who were from the Tawang district that borders China. Monpa communities have different languages which occurred to me during a previous evening when a yak herdman joined us for an evening meal. Tashi could speak fluently with him as they shared a Tibetan language, and Chunku could also understand what was being said through a shared linguistic identity but Nima, raised in Tawang, could not understand their language. There is no written form of their languages, only spoken forms.
Yet aside from this linguistic divide, Monpas celebrate the same festivals and rituals.
The main festival is "Lossar", a New Year celebration that continues for 15 days. It is not fixed in time and when it falls depends upon the Buddhist calendar.This year it took place in February, and sweets, called "khazaya" and not unlike Indian jalebis are amde and distributed. Another key festival is "chokar", which occurs annually and involves removing sacred texts from Buddhist shrines and parading them around the villages before returning the texts to the monastery. Dancers wearing masks accmpany the sacred texts on their journey, and money is collected from worshippers for the places of worship. Monpa people are mainly involved in agricultural work and in rearing yaks, pigs and cattle for their livelihood. Traditional dress for men and women includes headwear made of yak hair with long tassles. Women wear long calf-length dresses while the men traditionally wear sleeveless jackets.
The last day of the trek, from the outskirts of Banga Jang to the Sela Pass itself, was also quite obscured by the mist, but not as much as the previous day. Despite the mists, I managed to take some photographs as we ascended to the Sela pass, which is 13,700 feet above sea level.
From the Sela pass I was to travel to Tawang by private vehicle, an arrangement I'd made with the trek organiser. Unfortunately some miscommunication meant that no vehicle arrived, so that Tashi and I were left stranded at the Sela pass for a couple of hours.
As the time dragged and the afternoon wore on, the likelihood of obtaining a shared sumo taxi to Tawang - the only alternative - receded. However, I had a huge stroke of luck in trying to flag down a passing vehicle. A military jeep stopped and a Sikh officer came over asking who I was, where i was from etc and commented that his sister worked for the NHS in the UK. Unexpectedly he then offered me a lift in the jeep travelling behind the one he was in to Tawang. The soldiers I sat with continually referred to him as "the commander" who I later discovered to be Brigadier Bajaj! So it all worked out well in the end. It took around 4 hours to reach Tawang, and the brigadier stopped off at various points to point out areas of natural beauty, and at one of these stopovers I was introduced to the brigadier's wife. As much as I enjoyed the trek, it was a relief to check into a hotel and enjoy a proper night's sleep on a mattress after spending so many nights under canvas.
During the afternoon in Dirang, I visited a hot spring, which was very pleasant, and also visited a recently-built monastery which the Dalai Lama had opened just a few weeks earlier.
The next morning I met with Tashi and his son, and even though he spoke very little English and my spoken Hindi is non-existent, Tashi and I got on very well and I was struck by his knowledge and experience of the trekking routes, as well as his attention to detail and organisational skills. He occupies a leadership position within the community of villages he lives in and this was obvious by the numbers of social interactions he had with various people at different places during the trek. There did not seem to be many people that he was unfamiliar with!
After loading my stuff into their vehicle, we set off for Tashi's home, where I met with members of his family and enjoyed a delicious lunch of momos, a kind of South Asian dumpling prepared by his daughter-in-law. The view overlooking a valley from their home was wonderful.
 |
| Tashi's son, daughter-in-law and grandson |
 |
| Tashi and his wider family |
The initial plan had been to walk from the outskirts of Dirang to Lubrang, although the weather had turned quite miserable with plenty of rain and mist, which made it difficult to enjoy any of those views. So we drove up to Lubrang, which is the place where Tashi's family came from. Having put up the tent where I would be sleeping adjacent to the main cottage, Tashi, his son and I climbed a nearby hill to take a look around. We were joined by two young lads, Nimatsering ("Nima") and Rinchindrakpa ("Chinku"), who would accompany us on the trek, look after both of the horses that would carry all of the stuff and generally lend a helping hand. All three of them were from the Monpa community, which numbers around 50,000 in total, with around half living in the Tawang area (my post-trek destination), and the rest in neighbouring areas. They tend to follow Tibetan Buddhism, and many were uprooted from Tibet after the Chinese takeover in 1959.
There were a number of yaks in the surrounding fields, and we would see many more of these in the days ahead. They are peculiar creatures in that they are well adapted to high altitudes through having larger lungs than other cattle, but can struggle at low altitudes, where they can quickly suffer from heat exhaustion. For yak farmers, the sensitivity of these creatures to temperature change means that they must inhabit places where the yaks feel most comfortable, so they tend to be a transient set of people, moving up and down the valleys and staying in small, rudimentary wooden sheds. They are an incredibly hardy group of people having to get by in an environment that can be quite inhospitable.
 |
| In Lubrang |
 |
| Young boy tending to his yaks |
 |
| Putting up the tent |
 |
| Nima keeping warm by the fire |
The next day we were to walk from Lubrang to Nagagigi, and we awoke to bright blue skies, and soon after breakfast we set off. The valleys opened up before us as we walked, and the views were phenomenal. Walking along the side of the mountain in the warm sunlight as the distant mountains unfolded was a real joy. In hindsight, it was a pity that the weather could not have remained like this for the whole of the trek, as those were ideal conditions for walking.
 |
| Setting off on the trek |
Along the way, some of the smaller villages could be seen. We also passed small Buddhist shrines along the way, recognisable with their prayer wheels and flags.
Oken, the tour operator who had organised the trek, had mentioned that this was an ideal time to see wild mountain flowers, and over the course of the trek they were gorgeous and abundant, blending in magnificently with the wider landscapes.
At times the terrain became slightly more difficult as we climbed uphill, but the paths were excellent and as we travelled further, the plants became more varied until at the higher levels there were a number of pine trees. Some of them seemed as if they had been burnt, perhaps through the process of bringing electrification to the region.
Eventually we reached our destination, a small hut where Tashi, Nima and Chinku stayed, while I slept in a sleeping bag in a tent just outside. I can't recall the last time i'd slept in one, but the temperature did drop quite a bit and the ground was quite uneven, but i managed to sleep reasonably well during the trek. It's funny how used we become to light pollution in urban environments, but there in the wilderness there is no light whatsoever, making the head torch i'd purchased in Pokhara in Nepal extremely useful.
Over the time I spent with the three of them, I really came to value their practical skills in all manner of ways: starting and maintaining a fire; chopping and collecting firewood; repairing the huts (particularly the roofs!); tending to the horses; cooking using basic utensils; and fetching water from nearby streams. Nagagigi is a militarised zone, and reaching our destination meant passing through an Indian army camp on the edge of the forest.
 |
| Tashi and me outside the hut |
 |
| Our hut (to the right) on the edge of the forest |
Sadly the good weather was not to last, and the next day it rained very heavily and consistently. I suppose I hadn't really considered how close it was to the start of the monsoon season, as upto that point it had been fairly dry, and perhaps in hindsight starting the trek a few days earlier might have been beneficial if i'd spent less time in Bomdilla and other places. But then I suppose it might have rained then too; there are no guarantees on the weather front, especially at this time of year in India. Nonetheless the wild flowers looked amazing during the trek to Sangya, although visibility was poor at times, particularly when the mist descended. Terribly frustrating to know that wonderful mountain views were all around if only you could see them.
 |
| Tashi, Chinku and Nima dressed appropriately |
Yet despite the rain and the mist, the river views were wonderful. At one point we took tea and shelter in the home of a yak herdswoman and her daughter who were friends of Tashi's family. The tea we drank was flavoured with salt rather than sugar in accordance with tradition.
 |
| Tashi leads the way in the rain |
 |
| Crossing into Bhutan |
 |
| Drinking salted tea with a yak herdswoman |
 |
| Yak herdsman |
Arriving in Sangya and huddled in a wooded hut as the rain and wind howled outside, I couldn't help but fear the worst for the next day. I watched the guys put up my tent adjacent to the hut, surprised at the extent to which the temperature had dropped and after dinner made my way to the tent and lay within it, listening to the rain spattering upon the canvas. The next day we were to trek to a place called Chomjuk, crossing over the border into Bhutan.
A few hours later I awoke to silence. The rain had stopped and stepping out of the tent in the early hours of the morning, the semi-moonlit sky was staggeringly beautiful with a few ragged clouds fleetingly obscuring the light for a few brief moments. Just to see the light of the moon light up the landscape of the skies, so that even the mountains in the near-distance were lit, was very special.
Despite the previous night's rain, the weather turned out to be wonderful, the best of the whole trek, with fabulous blue skies. I would never have imagined that it would turn out so fine after all of that rain. The hut was surrounded by mountains on one side, and on the other a gorgeous lake, neither of which could be seen properly the previous day due to the mist.
 |
| The Chomjuk hut where we stayed |
 |
| Yak herdsman spinning wool |
Lake at Chomjuk
 |
| Gorichen peaks near Chinese border |
The landscapes were stunning in all directions, and we came across various lakes and tarns in a place of completely unspoilt wilderness. The only other people we met during the whole of the trek were other yak farmers who Tashi was acquainted with.
 |
| By the river |
The further we walked, we climbed gradually to a point where an incredible range of mountains opened up before us. Just magical views in that clear light.
 |
| By the lake |
 |
| Pitching a tent by the lake |
Arriving in Chomjuk, we pitched a tent by the lake and then the weather turned again with heavy downpours that seemed to go on for most of the night.
The next day's trek from Chomjuk to a small settlement between the Sela Pass and Banga Jang was a real washout, and quite an anti-climax after the delights of the previous day, with heavy mists obscuring the views. We stayed in a building used for training manoeuvres by the Indian army, a ramshackle prefabricated building in a sorry state of disrepair adjacent to a gorgeous lake, with around a dozen or so pairs of army boots scattered at one side of the room. I think we imagined it would be warmer indoors once the fire had been started, but it was a deceptively cold night.
During the evening, Tashi and the others told me more about Monpa culture. They explained that there were essentially two types of Monpa; those who had fled the Chinese takeover of Tibet in 1959 (Tashi's family came into this category), and those who were from the Tawang district that borders China. Monpa communities have different languages which occurred to me during a previous evening when a yak herdman joined us for an evening meal. Tashi could speak fluently with him as they shared a Tibetan language, and Chunku could also understand what was being said through a shared linguistic identity but Nima, raised in Tawang, could not understand their language. There is no written form of their languages, only spoken forms.
Yet aside from this linguistic divide, Monpas celebrate the same festivals and rituals.
The main festival is "Lossar", a New Year celebration that continues for 15 days. It is not fixed in time and when it falls depends upon the Buddhist calendar.This year it took place in February, and sweets, called "khazaya" and not unlike Indian jalebis are amde and distributed. Another key festival is "chokar", which occurs annually and involves removing sacred texts from Buddhist shrines and parading them around the villages before returning the texts to the monastery. Dancers wearing masks accmpany the sacred texts on their journey, and money is collected from worshippers for the places of worship. Monpa people are mainly involved in agricultural work and in rearing yaks, pigs and cattle for their livelihood. Traditional dress for men and women includes headwear made of yak hair with long tassles. Women wear long calf-length dresses while the men traditionally wear sleeveless jackets.
 |
| Green prefab building to the left of the lake |
The last day of the trek, from the outskirts of Banga Jang to the Sela Pass itself, was also quite obscured by the mist, but not as much as the previous day. Despite the mists, I managed to take some photographs as we ascended to the Sela pass, which is 13,700 feet above sea level.
 |
| Sela Lake |
From the Sela pass I was to travel to Tawang by private vehicle, an arrangement I'd made with the trek organiser. Unfortunately some miscommunication meant that no vehicle arrived, so that Tashi and I were left stranded at the Sela pass for a couple of hours.
As the time dragged and the afternoon wore on, the likelihood of obtaining a shared sumo taxi to Tawang - the only alternative - receded. However, I had a huge stroke of luck in trying to flag down a passing vehicle. A military jeep stopped and a Sikh officer came over asking who I was, where i was from etc and commented that his sister worked for the NHS in the UK. Unexpectedly he then offered me a lift in the jeep travelling behind the one he was in to Tawang. The soldiers I sat with continually referred to him as "the commander" who I later discovered to be Brigadier Bajaj! So it all worked out well in the end. It took around 4 hours to reach Tawang, and the brigadier stopped off at various points to point out areas of natural beauty, and at one of these stopovers I was introduced to the brigadier's wife. As much as I enjoyed the trek, it was a relief to check into a hotel and enjoy a proper night's sleep on a mattress after spending so many nights under canvas.
So overall do you recommend this route for others? or do you suggest any alternative treks in Arunachal Pradesh?
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