16 Nov - Where Nature Is Still In Charge

Everywhere we have been on our trip North in Sikkim is on its second, or even third or fourth, bridge. There is perhaps no more stark reminder of the fragile permission which nature gives man to inhabit this planet, and indeed the resilience of man to make it work.

Up near Zero Point the cause of the destruction is clear, as the pile of tangled metal lies hidden beneath a mass of boulders brought down by the last surge of the river. But further down the valley, in Lachung, one forlorn concrete pillar is all that remains of the original suspension bridge which provided a line of communication between the 2 sides of the valley. 6.8 on the Richter scale last September put paid to that. Our guide, Benum, smiles ironically as I ask him whether the army-constructed replacement is temporary. I'm not sure whether his hint is with reference to the likelihood of nature taking charge again, or whether it is simply that the replacement works...

We left Chungthang and the new hydro project behind to arrive at Singhik and the most extraordinary view. What the clouds had obscured on our journey up, was resplendent in the midday sunshine. It was as if nature wanted to leave us with one final reminder of her authority before we returned to the civilised comfort of Gangtok. Looking all the way up a deep valley, and beyond, we were given the best view of Kanchenjunga and her sisters yet. Bearing in mind the visual feast of the days before, and the fact that we had already done this journey the other way, the treat was enhanced by its ability to once again leave us both speechless.

The rest of the journey back to Gangtok was bumpy, long, but otherwise uneventful. Having sat down all day, Sarah and I decided to unwind (physically quite literally!) with a run along Gangtok's pretty ridgeway and up to the Enchen Monastery. I think that the sight of two Westerners in running kit racing two young monks down the main avenue to the monastery past rows of prayer wheels will not be one the older residents forget for some time. The little boys running with us in flowing red cassocks clearly thought it was wonderful though.

Returning from the monastery's hill top position to our hotel, we watched the sun set above the hills to the West of Gangtok, and more importantly, turn a deep bronze against the pristine white peaks of our omnipresent overseer. As runs go, I think that we'll do well to better it.