The Bhutanese believe that to do this helps wash away some of your earthly sins. Really? All I know is that, having carried it, I immediately heard a cat yowling and freed it from under a pile of logs. Perhaps my karma was improving.It was late afternoon before we reached Tongsa Dzong, the most spectacular dzong in Bhutan. Perching above a narrow ravine, its white and red walls are topped by a jumble of yellow roofs. I found out how heavy it was when I was offered the chance to circumambulate the shrine with the saintly armour draped over my shoulder. "We keep our computers in a separate building," the dzongda told me. "We decided not to install electricity in the historic dzong because of the fire hazard." The old fortress dates from the 16th century, and while the massive outer walls are constructed of rough-hewn stone, the courtyards inside are surrounded by brightly painted wooden balconies.I wouldn't have volunteered for the next part of our tour, but Dasho Pem was so obviously proud of the cheese factory (set up with Swiss assistance) and the sheep centre (Australians started up this project by crossing merino and local sheep) that I couldn't refuse.I visited Tamshing Monastery, which contains the oldest cycle of wall paintings in Bhutan, and a suit of chain-mail which the Buddhist saint Pema Lingpa, who had skills in metallurgy as well as the ability to vanquish demons, is believed to have made.
Our next stop was Jakar Dzong, the combined fortress and monastery that still serves as the centre of local government. "In the old days you got the red scarf of a high official automatically," he said, "but now you have to earn it."In this and other ways, Bhutan creeps into the 20th century. To visit Kurjey, a complex of temples and royal funerary chortens, I put on my jacket and tie, which was just as well, for as we drove up the valley the Dasho was struggling into the white silk scarf denoting his rank. I had lunch with the governor of Tongsa, who turned out in the traditional kho (Bhutan's national dress) with his silver sword tucked into the belt and a ceremonial scarf over his shoulder, which was a little formal beside my sweater and climbing boots (from then on I made sure to keep a jacket and tie in the back of the car).Arriving in Bumthang, I was met by Dasho Pem Dorji, the dzongda or district commissioner of Bumthang. "In Bhutan," he explained, "we have 72.5 per cent forest coverage, which makes us one of the few green spots in the Himalayas." Now, as I stared out at range upon jungle-cloaked range, I could appreciate what he meant.Whenever we stopped, however, I had to cease being the passive tourist and take on a more active role.
Back in Thimphu, he had told me about confrontations with big logging operators when he was still a teenager. For most of this eight-hour journey we wound through virgin forest - blue pines giving way to scarlet rhododendrons and evergreen cloud forests as we gained altitude.Luckily for Bhutan, their king has always been an ardent conservationist. The views of the Himalayas were stunning, and at the top of each pass there were forests of prayer flags and chortens of loose stones piled up by other travellers. I was accompanied by an English-speaking protocol officer, which seemed rather over-the- top until I remembered that I was a guest of His Majesty.That first day was a hard drive, climbing over three passes above 10,000ft before dropping to the next river valley. The next morning, we set out eastwards on the only reliable road that traverses the country.
