Dochula Pass

The road east out of Thimphu climbs hard, switchbacking up through blue pine and rhododendron until it tops out at Dochula, a pass at around three thousand one hundred metres where the whole point is to stop. We did, like everyone does, and stepped out into thin cold air thick with the smell of incense and pine resin. The pass is famous for two things: a cluster of 108 chortens built in tiers on a knoll, and a view of the eastern Himalaya that is either spectacular or completely absent, depending entirely on the mood of the clouds.

The 108 Chortens

The chortens are properly called the Druk Wangyal Khang Zhang, commissioned by the eldest Queen Mother in the early 2000s to honour Bhutanese soldiers. They sit in concentric tiers, small whitewashed stupas with gold finials, and walking up among them clockwise — always clockwise, our guide reminded us gently — is a quietly affecting thing. Prayer flags run from the pines in every direction, thousands of them, faded to soft pastels and snapping in the wind.

I had expected something solemn and got something almost cheerful instead. Bhutanese families picnicked on the grass below the chortens, monks in maroon robes took photographs on their phones, and the whole pass had the feel of a place people genuinely like to be, rather than a monument they feel obliged to visit. Lia spun a row of prayer wheels along the path and pronounced the spot the most peaceful place we had found in the country, which after a week of monasteries was saying something.

Waiting for the Mountains

On a clear winter morning Dochula offers one of the great Himalayan panoramas — Gangkhar Puensum among them, at over seven thousand metres the highest unclimbed mountain on earth, which Bhutan keeps off-limits out of respect for the spirits said to live there. I love that fact more than I can say.

We, of course, got cloud. A soft grey ceiling sat exactly where the peaks should have been, and we drank butter tea at the little café by the pass and waited, and the mountains never showed. And yet — the incense, the snapping flags, the cold clean air, the families laughing among the chortens — I did not feel cheated. Some places give you the postcard. Dochula gave us the atmosphere instead, and I have come to think that is the rarer gift.

When to go: October to February for the clearest mountain views, with crisp dry days and the best odds of seeing the full Himalayan wall at dawn. Spring brings the rhododendrons into bloom on the slopes below, though the peaks more often hide behind haze.