Tiger Tale

According to Bhutanese lore, Guru Rinpoche came to Paro flying on the back of a tigress, where he subdued the local demons and meditated in cave perched high on a cliff.

It was in that improbable and impractical spot that a monastery was built. The Taktsang Lahkang, also known the Tiger’s Nest, is one of the most popular places to visit in Bhutan, both by visitors and locals. Similar to the haj to Mecca, Bhutanese Buddhists try to make a pilgrimage here at least once in their lives.

The two-hour journey to the monastery is difficult, especially for those unaccustomed to the altitude — around 10,000 feet. The footpath is unforgivingly vertical most of the way there. At the halfway point and with a great vie if the monastery, a cafeteria serves tea, coffee and soft drinks to the weary.

Despite the distance still separating us from the cliff-hugging monastery, we can hear monks chanting across the divide. “It sounds like bees,” says one man, who is prostrate on a wooden bench at the rest stop trying to catch his breath.

The repeating mantra being carried by the wind soon becomes the motivation for each tiny step we take as we inch closer to the “finish line.” The trail flattens out for short while, but then we are confronted by a staircase that descends steeply to the bottom of a waterfall, then climbs to the base of the monastery, where we must leave our earthly possessions behind. Once cameras and mobile phones are stowed in a locker, the fashion policeman at the entrance ensures we are presentable. Today, he is especially vigilant because three high lamas are in residence for an important ceremony honoring a deceased lama. Button up your jacket, take off your sunglasses, drape your scarf around your neck like so. Once we’ve passed inspection, we are greeted with more steps up to the main temple, which covers the cave in which Guru Rinpoche meditated. It is in this room, standing in front of this very important shrine when we are joined by one of the high lamas himself, dressed in orange robes. He chants and prostrates in front of the golden figure at the altar.

The last visit we make is to the tiger den itself. I shimmy between two rock walls into a dark crevasse, climb down a hand-hewn ladder and stop to let the light adjust. I am in the cliff with a monk, who points down below and says three is a tiger’s nest there and another over there.

“Would you like to go down?” He asks.

I am feeling a touch of vertigo and reply with a resounding “no.” I beg him to go first and he wedges himself between the rocks and, with his hands and bare feet, walks down the rock wall to a window in the rock that reveals a vertical drop to the valley below. I back away slowly and retreat up the ladder and then finally back down the mountain.

It was a spectacular end to an incredible journey to Bhutan. We went out with a roar.