MOUNTAIN LIFE - Blue Mountains | Fall 2018

FALL 2018 ML BLUE 59 After lunch, the snow comes down hard. Stepping into Rinzin’s footprints, soon the holes fill with snow. I think of the nomadic yak-herders who have walked these trails for centuries and still do. This thought is comforting. Today, I feel energized. At the peak, 4,820 metres on the Yeli La Pass, Rinzin and I stand in a white haze—no Jomolhari today. I don’t care. Letting go of expectations allows me to enjoy the moment. On our final day, I give Rinzin my mother’s hat and Leki a clip with a bicycle. Since she died, I began giving away some of her jewelry—she had boxes of it, garish and colourful pieces. It is not a ritual that I planned, or read about anywhere—it just happened. In Bhutan, after someone dies, people mourn for 49 days, a process that includes elaborate rituals. I realize this has become my death ritual—every time I give away something of my mother’s, I’m reminded of her ability to love openly and connect with people so willingly. It’s her greatest gift to me. ABOVE The author and her mother. MELANIE CHAMBERS. BELOW The sun rises over the mountains near Jele Dzong, a 16th-century fortress that caters to travellers on the Druk Path between Paro and Thimphu. It’s unseasonably cold in Bhutan this season, but the fresh snow intensifies everything— you can almost taste the pine in the air.