From Aalo on the 6th I wanted to head north to Tuting on the Siang River (which is what the Brahmaputra is called in Arunachal Pradesh) not far from the border with Tibet. (In Tibet the Siang is the called the Yarlung Tsangpo, Tibet's main river.) Like Mechuka, Tuting has only recently been opened to foreign tourists. It is a long trip from Aalo to Tuting, so I broke the trip at the town of Yingkiong, about 75 miles from Aalo and more than half way to Tuting. The sumo for Yingkiong left at 11:30 on a warm, sunny day, with temperatures in the mid-80's. I wondered if it was now sunny in Mechuka, too.
The full sumo headed west from Aalo along the Yomgo River, although we didn't get many views of it once we passed the bridge I had walked to several days previously. We did see the river again, now in a rocky gorge, as we crossed over it by a high bridge just before it flows into the Siang. My altimeter showed the bridge to be at about 1000 feet elevation. Long pedestrian suspension bridges crossed the Siang both above and below its confluence with the Yomgo. The Siang at this spot is considerably below the road we traveled. Here the river was wide and calm, with no whitewater.
We drove up the west side of the Siang with great views of the river and its green canyon. We passed through the town of Boleng, more than 25 miles from Aalo and about 2 reached a bridge over the Siang where the canyon of the Siang narrowed to a rock gorge, about 40 miles from Aalo. The day had been sunny and warm, but dark clouds and thunder could be seen and heard to the north. The wind starting blowing.
We crossed the bridge and continued upriver, now on the east side of the river, and ran into a heavy downpour for about 15 minutes, with sprinkles thereafter. On this side of the river, we had few views of it below, but could see extensive rice terraces on both sides of the river, maybe 200 feet or more above the river. High mountains rise on either side of the river and I could see another road high above the river's west bank. We passed, but didn't cross, another big bridge over the Siang about five miles from Yingkiong and reached the town after 4:30.
Yingkiong is set high above the Siang, which can't be seen from the center. My altimeter gave the elevation as about 1500 feet. We had never been higher than 1800 feet on the route from Aalo. Yongkiong, despite its location, is not a pretty town, with a roadside market and a few concrete buildings in its center. A friendly young guy showed me to a hotel and a restaurant. My backpack was again wet from being poorly covered on the roof.
I looked around town a little before dark. The people here are Adi. The roadside market had various vegetables on sale, including mustard flowers and very long banana flowers. Big mountains loomed across the river under an overcast sky. The town seemed rather large and spread out, with few thatched roofs. There wasn't much to see.
I had a thukpa dinner in the company of a policeman from the Nocte tribe of Aruanchal Pradesh's Tirap District, bordering the state of Nagaland, but stationed in Yingkiong. He was very interesting and paid for my dinner without my knowing it before he left. He said the Stillwell Road, built from India into Burma during World War II and which starts just north of Tirap, is now open for tourism, but only the very short portion in India. The much longer portion in Burma is now abandoned, with no visitors allowed by the Burmese. He also talked about headhunting and Nagaland. The Nagas are former headhunters (and maybe the Nocte are, too) and some Nagas claim Tirap, along with several other areas, as part of a Greater Nagaland.
The sky was cloudy the next morning when my sumo left for Tuting about 6:30. To my surprise, it traveled only five or ten minutes north and then dropped us off at a very long and narrow pedestrian suspension bridge across the wide Siang. I walked across with my backpack while the bridge swayed back and forth. The views upriver and downriver were great. Wisps of clouds floated above the river.
On the other side we transferred to another sumo and started north again about 7:30. The drive was beautiful, with green hillsides towering above the river. We climbed far above the river, reaching an elevation of about 3500 feet twice, both at villages. About 11 we had a lunch stop, about the time the sun came out. The road went up and down, but far above the river. At the second village at about 3500 feet elevation, the river was more than 2000 feet below. We traveled into several side valleys, with big streams running through them down to the Siang. The road was very poor in places and the sky clouded over about 2.
About 3:15 we reached Tuting, about 90 miles from the suspension bridge. I checked into a small hotel in the center of the spread out town, a quiet and pleasant town at an altitude of only about 1600 feet, which surprised me as Tuting is only about 20 miles from the border with Tibet. But the mighty Siang cuts deeply into the mountains. The town is a bit distant and above the river. Big green hills surround it on all sides. I caught a brief glimpse of some snowy peaks through the clouds. I took a walk to the new airport under construction on a plateau above the river between the town and the river. Walking back, I stopped to talk with a Tibetan born in Tuting. His family came from just beyond the border in Tibet. I had momos at a friendly hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the only one I found in town. I took a cold water bucket bath and went to bed just after 8. The power went off at 8:30, but later came back on. My bed had no mosquito net, but then again there were no mosquitoes.
I woke up the next morning about 4 and noticed the sky was already light. I went back to sleep and woke up again about 5, with a dense fog covering everything. I didn't get up until about 6. It was still very foggy, but by 6:30 the rising sun had burned away all the fog. Only a few clouds were in the sky. From my hotel balcony I could see Buddhist and Donyi-Polo flags flying in town. Tuting has both Memba and Adi people. Children were playing below the hotel and I watched sumos leave, heading downriver.
I ate breakfast and then about 8 walked up a little hill just beyond the town to a new gompa, belonging to the Nyingmapa sect of Tibetan Buddhism. Inside the new main hall about 50 monks, almost all children, were chanting, led by a adult monk facing them, with a young adult or maybe a teenage monk sitting next to him in front of a microphone. The young monks looked bored and I saw several yawns. One had a prayer book open in front of him, the pages in Tibetan script. I noticed the word "BOSS" written in pen on one page. Two monks had telescopic horns maybe ten feet long. Another two had two foot long Tibetan oboes. Two more, one of which was a little kid, had conch shells. Others had big drums. The instruments were all put away before they finished, except the drums. I watched the chanting monks for about 40 minutes, until they finished and all streamed out.
I looked around inside. The hall had very interesting paintings on its walls and interesting ornaments. The three big statues at the front of the hall had green, red, and blue lights on them. One painting on the wall depicted a monk with dark glasses, but it didn't look like the Dalai Lama. A few of the child monks filtered back into the main hall to look me over. I saw them looking at my camera, so showed them some photos. They didn't lock the hall until I left, about 9:30.
I walked from the gompa past the airport trying to find a suspension bridge over the Siang to the village of Jide on the other side. I got a little lost and ended up walking through the army camp near the airport. A friendly soldier from Uttar Pradesh had another soldier bring me a glass of water and a glass of tea, and then gave me directions to the bridge. Just before reaching the bridge I stopped at a gazebo and talked with a monk and others, all very friendly, who had just crossed the bridge. The monk told me that Jide is mostly Adi while Tuting is both Memba and Adi. He also told me he had helped paint the main hall in the gompa.
I watched others cross the long, narrow, swaying suspension bridge, and then crossed it myself, with the Siang rapidly flowing below. The bridge runs from a cliff on the Tuting side to the top of a huge boulder on the beach on the Jide side. It is about 900 feet long, with the Jide end 60 feet lower than the Tuting end. At its lowest point, the bridge is about 70 feet lower than the Tuting end. Boys were playing on the beach and in the water on the Jide side. I took the stairs down from the boulder to the flatter land, covered with rocks just above the beach, walked across it, and climbed up the cliff, via a steep path and stairs, to Jide, about 300 feet above the river. Jide is a small village, with just a few wood and bamboo houses.
I walked through the quiet village to the fields beyond, walking generally north. The Siang was to my left (west), but far enough away, and down, that I didn't see it, at least initially. Further west, beyond the green hills west of Tuting I could see a snowy peak through the clouds. I came across a friendly Adi family: parents, two sons, and one daughter, working in the field in front of their house. The father was using a metal pole to turn up soil and his wife was picking up the clods of dirt and moving them to another part of the field. Both wore rectangular bamboo wicker coverings that ran from head to waist to protect them from the sun. I had never seen those before other than in museums. I don't remember how they were attached to their bodies. One of the sons spoke some English. I watched them for a while and then walked a short distance further and sat on a log in the shade of trees. I ate two little packs of peanuts and drank a liter of water. It was just past noon and the day was hot.
I kept walking on the rutted dirt road, with absolutely no traffic, passing a few houses and not yet planted rice terraces. The two boys from the field joined me for a while. One told me that rice would be planted in June. Butterflies fluttered across the road. An old Adi man in a derelict house yelled at me and I asked the boys what he said. They said he was drunk. The road was often muddy and the sun was hot. Stone walls lined it and there were many ponds and puddles. I heard lots of frogs, but saw none. I eventually was further north than Tuting gompa on the other bank and close enough to the Siang that I could see the raging river through the trees growing between the road and the river. I crossed a bridge over a stream flowing into the Siang and then turned back, about 2:30, maybe two or three miles from Jide. The road had been fairly level, rising a bit.
On the way back I passed the Adi family still working in their field and watched a friendly Adi man repairing a bamboo fence on a rise. I reached Jide, still very quiet, about 3:45 and made my way down to the suspension bridge and crossed it. There was quite a bit of foot traffic, so I lingered and took photos of folks crossing it. I walked back to Tuting via the uncompleted airport. I watched the sun set behind the hills about 4:30 and reached Tuting about 15 minutes later.
I ordered dinner at the little restaurant, which I was told I had to do to get dinner, and then sat on the balcony of my hotel eating cookies and drinking about a liter of water while looking at the green hills to the east, still sunlit. Towards 6 I noticed rain and thunder to the south, down the Siang River valley. The sky had clouded up after sunset and I saw flashes of lightning and lightning bolts and heard thunder. The wind came up, and then died down. The rain never reached us. I went to bed about 9, but didn't fall asleep until about 11. My room was hot, in the 80's, and I needed a mosquito coil that night. Before 11 I saw a gibbous moon rise, and I could see stars in the sky.
I was up about 5:30 the next morning. It was foggy again, but quickly cleared. The day was again sunny and hot. About 7 I walked to the gompa. In the main hall only about 20 or 25 child monks were chanting, led by a teenage monk in front clanging a wooden bell. I listened and looked around until about 8 and then walked to an assemblage of prayer flags near the river. Through the trees high above the bank I could see part of the road across the Siang I had walked the afternoon before.
About 9 I walked to the suspension bridge and crossed it. I walked down to the sandy bank of the Siang below the bridge. The sand was very thick and the river water not too cold. Looking up, I noticed that the suspension bridge had a definite tilt upriver. On rocks were painted "408," "409," and "412," which I understood to be the altitude in meters and perhaps the high water mark of the river at times in the past. Using those marks as a gauge, the river level was presently at about 405 meters, or about 1330 feet. Three soldiers crossed the suspension bridge and walked down to join me on the beach. They told me they were waiting for a helicopter and that two or three days of good weather was forecast.
I walked downriver below the cliffs along the wide sandy and rocky expanse between the cliffs and the river to a large wooden raft moored to the bank with an old man either living or guarding it. A mass of butterflies were on the muddy ground nearby. I took a path up to the cliff and a rutted dirt road that became a path through scenic jungle with lots of ferns and eventually led to a decrepit suspension bridge over a very fast moving whitewater river flowing from the southeast. Many of its floorboards were missing or broken. I walked maybe a third of the way across, for the views, as I couldn't see much of the river from the thick jungle at the end of the bridge, and then retreated.
From the bridge I followed another rutted dirt road that became a path through the jungle along the river, but inland from it with no views of it, until I reached an open area on a cliff above the river and near its confluence with the Siang. I could see the confluence just downriver, with a big sand island in the river just before the river joins the Siang. I sat on a log and ate some cookies. The helicopter flew by about 1:30.
I started back, but soon made my way through the trees to the rocky bank of the fast-moving stream and sat on a rock. Upriver, fishing off rocks, stood a couple of men with long bamboo fishing poles. Once again on the trail back, I could hear the river but not see it until I turned away from it. I took some alternate paths and eventually made my way to Jide. The little village was still very quiet, but I came across two little girls climbing over a rock wall. One seemed momentarily startled after her descent when she saw me watching, but then carefully said, "What is your name?" About 4 I crossed the suspension bridge and walked back to Tuting. I sat on my balcony and drank lots of water. No rain appeared to be falling downriver, at least not in sight. I had thukpa for dinner. A few stars were out.
I was up after 5 the next morning. There was no fog, but there were some low clouds that soon dispersed and there were high clouds, unlike the previous days. I had breakfast and then left on a sumo for Yingkiong about 7, with a window seat on the left side, the side best for the views. I enjoyed the beautiful journey under hazy and cloudy skies. Soon after we left I could see the confluence of the rivers where I had been the afternoon before, more than 500 feet below the road. On the trip south we crossed five big streams flowing into the Siang, each time driving deep into the side valleys the streams had carved. I had great views of landslides and, of course, of the river and canyon all along. The river was often 2000 feet or so below the road. We made few stops other than a lunch stop about 11. Rarely did the sumo travel faster than 15 miles per hour, usually 12 or 13. We passed a cow-like animal called, I was told, a mithung and her calves.
We reached the suspension bridge across the Siang upriver from Yingkiong about 2. I again crossed the long, wobbly bridge over the Siang with my backpack and enjoyed the views upriver and downriver. On the other side I took a very crowded auto rickshaw to Yingkiong, getting there about 2:30. I checked into the same hotel as my previous visit and took a short walk around town. The open market along the main road was just starting up. I had an early momo dinner in the same friendly little restaurant as before and went to bed soon after 8, when the power went out.
The full sumo headed west from Aalo along the Yomgo River, although we didn't get many views of it once we passed the bridge I had walked to several days previously. We did see the river again, now in a rocky gorge, as we crossed over it by a high bridge just before it flows into the Siang. My altimeter showed the bridge to be at about 1000 feet elevation. Long pedestrian suspension bridges crossed the Siang both above and below its confluence with the Yomgo. The Siang at this spot is considerably below the road we traveled. Here the river was wide and calm, with no whitewater.
We drove up the west side of the Siang with great views of the river and its green canyon. We passed through the town of Boleng, more than 25 miles from Aalo and about 2 reached a bridge over the Siang where the canyon of the Siang narrowed to a rock gorge, about 40 miles from Aalo. The day had been sunny and warm, but dark clouds and thunder could be seen and heard to the north. The wind starting blowing.
We crossed the bridge and continued upriver, now on the east side of the river, and ran into a heavy downpour for about 15 minutes, with sprinkles thereafter. On this side of the river, we had few views of it below, but could see extensive rice terraces on both sides of the river, maybe 200 feet or more above the river. High mountains rise on either side of the river and I could see another road high above the river's west bank. We passed, but didn't cross, another big bridge over the Siang about five miles from Yingkiong and reached the town after 4:30.
Yingkiong is set high above the Siang, which can't be seen from the center. My altimeter gave the elevation as about 1500 feet. We had never been higher than 1800 feet on the route from Aalo. Yongkiong, despite its location, is not a pretty town, with a roadside market and a few concrete buildings in its center. A friendly young guy showed me to a hotel and a restaurant. My backpack was again wet from being poorly covered on the roof.
I looked around town a little before dark. The people here are Adi. The roadside market had various vegetables on sale, including mustard flowers and very long banana flowers. Big mountains loomed across the river under an overcast sky. The town seemed rather large and spread out, with few thatched roofs. There wasn't much to see.
I had a thukpa dinner in the company of a policeman from the Nocte tribe of Aruanchal Pradesh's Tirap District, bordering the state of Nagaland, but stationed in Yingkiong. He was very interesting and paid for my dinner without my knowing it before he left. He said the Stillwell Road, built from India into Burma during World War II and which starts just north of Tirap, is now open for tourism, but only the very short portion in India. The much longer portion in Burma is now abandoned, with no visitors allowed by the Burmese. He also talked about headhunting and Nagaland. The Nagas are former headhunters (and maybe the Nocte are, too) and some Nagas claim Tirap, along with several other areas, as part of a Greater Nagaland.
The sky was cloudy the next morning when my sumo left for Tuting about 6:30. To my surprise, it traveled only five or ten minutes north and then dropped us off at a very long and narrow pedestrian suspension bridge across the wide Siang. I walked across with my backpack while the bridge swayed back and forth. The views upriver and downriver were great. Wisps of clouds floated above the river.
On the other side we transferred to another sumo and started north again about 7:30. The drive was beautiful, with green hillsides towering above the river. We climbed far above the river, reaching an elevation of about 3500 feet twice, both at villages. About 11 we had a lunch stop, about the time the sun came out. The road went up and down, but far above the river. At the second village at about 3500 feet elevation, the river was more than 2000 feet below. We traveled into several side valleys, with big streams running through them down to the Siang. The road was very poor in places and the sky clouded over about 2.
About 3:15 we reached Tuting, about 90 miles from the suspension bridge. I checked into a small hotel in the center of the spread out town, a quiet and pleasant town at an altitude of only about 1600 feet, which surprised me as Tuting is only about 20 miles from the border with Tibet. But the mighty Siang cuts deeply into the mountains. The town is a bit distant and above the river. Big green hills surround it on all sides. I caught a brief glimpse of some snowy peaks through the clouds. I took a walk to the new airport under construction on a plateau above the river between the town and the river. Walking back, I stopped to talk with a Tibetan born in Tuting. His family came from just beyond the border in Tibet. I had momos at a friendly hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the only one I found in town. I took a cold water bucket bath and went to bed just after 8. The power went off at 8:30, but later came back on. My bed had no mosquito net, but then again there were no mosquitoes.
I woke up the next morning about 4 and noticed the sky was already light. I went back to sleep and woke up again about 5, with a dense fog covering everything. I didn't get up until about 6. It was still very foggy, but by 6:30 the rising sun had burned away all the fog. Only a few clouds were in the sky. From my hotel balcony I could see Buddhist and Donyi-Polo flags flying in town. Tuting has both Memba and Adi people. Children were playing below the hotel and I watched sumos leave, heading downriver.
I ate breakfast and then about 8 walked up a little hill just beyond the town to a new gompa, belonging to the Nyingmapa sect of Tibetan Buddhism. Inside the new main hall about 50 monks, almost all children, were chanting, led by a adult monk facing them, with a young adult or maybe a teenage monk sitting next to him in front of a microphone. The young monks looked bored and I saw several yawns. One had a prayer book open in front of him, the pages in Tibetan script. I noticed the word "BOSS" written in pen on one page. Two monks had telescopic horns maybe ten feet long. Another two had two foot long Tibetan oboes. Two more, one of which was a little kid, had conch shells. Others had big drums. The instruments were all put away before they finished, except the drums. I watched the chanting monks for about 40 minutes, until they finished and all streamed out.
I looked around inside. The hall had very interesting paintings on its walls and interesting ornaments. The three big statues at the front of the hall had green, red, and blue lights on them. One painting on the wall depicted a monk with dark glasses, but it didn't look like the Dalai Lama. A few of the child monks filtered back into the main hall to look me over. I saw them looking at my camera, so showed them some photos. They didn't lock the hall until I left, about 9:30.
I walked from the gompa past the airport trying to find a suspension bridge over the Siang to the village of Jide on the other side. I got a little lost and ended up walking through the army camp near the airport. A friendly soldier from Uttar Pradesh had another soldier bring me a glass of water and a glass of tea, and then gave me directions to the bridge. Just before reaching the bridge I stopped at a gazebo and talked with a monk and others, all very friendly, who had just crossed the bridge. The monk told me that Jide is mostly Adi while Tuting is both Memba and Adi. He also told me he had helped paint the main hall in the gompa.
I watched others cross the long, narrow, swaying suspension bridge, and then crossed it myself, with the Siang rapidly flowing below. The bridge runs from a cliff on the Tuting side to the top of a huge boulder on the beach on the Jide side. It is about 900 feet long, with the Jide end 60 feet lower than the Tuting end. At its lowest point, the bridge is about 70 feet lower than the Tuting end. Boys were playing on the beach and in the water on the Jide side. I took the stairs down from the boulder to the flatter land, covered with rocks just above the beach, walked across it, and climbed up the cliff, via a steep path and stairs, to Jide, about 300 feet above the river. Jide is a small village, with just a few wood and bamboo houses.
I walked through the quiet village to the fields beyond, walking generally north. The Siang was to my left (west), but far enough away, and down, that I didn't see it, at least initially. Further west, beyond the green hills west of Tuting I could see a snowy peak through the clouds. I came across a friendly Adi family: parents, two sons, and one daughter, working in the field in front of their house. The father was using a metal pole to turn up soil and his wife was picking up the clods of dirt and moving them to another part of the field. Both wore rectangular bamboo wicker coverings that ran from head to waist to protect them from the sun. I had never seen those before other than in museums. I don't remember how they were attached to their bodies. One of the sons spoke some English. I watched them for a while and then walked a short distance further and sat on a log in the shade of trees. I ate two little packs of peanuts and drank a liter of water. It was just past noon and the day was hot.
I kept walking on the rutted dirt road, with absolutely no traffic, passing a few houses and not yet planted rice terraces. The two boys from the field joined me for a while. One told me that rice would be planted in June. Butterflies fluttered across the road. An old Adi man in a derelict house yelled at me and I asked the boys what he said. They said he was drunk. The road was often muddy and the sun was hot. Stone walls lined it and there were many ponds and puddles. I heard lots of frogs, but saw none. I eventually was further north than Tuting gompa on the other bank and close enough to the Siang that I could see the raging river through the trees growing between the road and the river. I crossed a bridge over a stream flowing into the Siang and then turned back, about 2:30, maybe two or three miles from Jide. The road had been fairly level, rising a bit.
On the way back I passed the Adi family still working in their field and watched a friendly Adi man repairing a bamboo fence on a rise. I reached Jide, still very quiet, about 3:45 and made my way down to the suspension bridge and crossed it. There was quite a bit of foot traffic, so I lingered and took photos of folks crossing it. I walked back to Tuting via the uncompleted airport. I watched the sun set behind the hills about 4:30 and reached Tuting about 15 minutes later.
I ordered dinner at the little restaurant, which I was told I had to do to get dinner, and then sat on the balcony of my hotel eating cookies and drinking about a liter of water while looking at the green hills to the east, still sunlit. Towards 6 I noticed rain and thunder to the south, down the Siang River valley. The sky had clouded up after sunset and I saw flashes of lightning and lightning bolts and heard thunder. The wind came up, and then died down. The rain never reached us. I went to bed about 9, but didn't fall asleep until about 11. My room was hot, in the 80's, and I needed a mosquito coil that night. Before 11 I saw a gibbous moon rise, and I could see stars in the sky.
I was up about 5:30 the next morning. It was foggy again, but quickly cleared. The day was again sunny and hot. About 7 I walked to the gompa. In the main hall only about 20 or 25 child monks were chanting, led by a teenage monk in front clanging a wooden bell. I listened and looked around until about 8 and then walked to an assemblage of prayer flags near the river. Through the trees high above the bank I could see part of the road across the Siang I had walked the afternoon before.
About 9 I walked to the suspension bridge and crossed it. I walked down to the sandy bank of the Siang below the bridge. The sand was very thick and the river water not too cold. Looking up, I noticed that the suspension bridge had a definite tilt upriver. On rocks were painted "408," "409," and "412," which I understood to be the altitude in meters and perhaps the high water mark of the river at times in the past. Using those marks as a gauge, the river level was presently at about 405 meters, or about 1330 feet. Three soldiers crossed the suspension bridge and walked down to join me on the beach. They told me they were waiting for a helicopter and that two or three days of good weather was forecast.
I walked downriver below the cliffs along the wide sandy and rocky expanse between the cliffs and the river to a large wooden raft moored to the bank with an old man either living or guarding it. A mass of butterflies were on the muddy ground nearby. I took a path up to the cliff and a rutted dirt road that became a path through scenic jungle with lots of ferns and eventually led to a decrepit suspension bridge over a very fast moving whitewater river flowing from the southeast. Many of its floorboards were missing or broken. I walked maybe a third of the way across, for the views, as I couldn't see much of the river from the thick jungle at the end of the bridge, and then retreated.
From the bridge I followed another rutted dirt road that became a path through the jungle along the river, but inland from it with no views of it, until I reached an open area on a cliff above the river and near its confluence with the Siang. I could see the confluence just downriver, with a big sand island in the river just before the river joins the Siang. I sat on a log and ate some cookies. The helicopter flew by about 1:30.
I started back, but soon made my way through the trees to the rocky bank of the fast-moving stream and sat on a rock. Upriver, fishing off rocks, stood a couple of men with long bamboo fishing poles. Once again on the trail back, I could hear the river but not see it until I turned away from it. I took some alternate paths and eventually made my way to Jide. The little village was still very quiet, but I came across two little girls climbing over a rock wall. One seemed momentarily startled after her descent when she saw me watching, but then carefully said, "What is your name?" About 4 I crossed the suspension bridge and walked back to Tuting. I sat on my balcony and drank lots of water. No rain appeared to be falling downriver, at least not in sight. I had thukpa for dinner. A few stars were out.
I was up after 5 the next morning. There was no fog, but there were some low clouds that soon dispersed and there were high clouds, unlike the previous days. I had breakfast and then left on a sumo for Yingkiong about 7, with a window seat on the left side, the side best for the views. I enjoyed the beautiful journey under hazy and cloudy skies. Soon after we left I could see the confluence of the rivers where I had been the afternoon before, more than 500 feet below the road. On the trip south we crossed five big streams flowing into the Siang, each time driving deep into the side valleys the streams had carved. I had great views of landslides and, of course, of the river and canyon all along. The river was often 2000 feet or so below the road. We made few stops other than a lunch stop about 11. Rarely did the sumo travel faster than 15 miles per hour, usually 12 or 13. We passed a cow-like animal called, I was told, a mithung and her calves.
We reached the suspension bridge across the Siang upriver from Yingkiong about 2. I again crossed the long, wobbly bridge over the Siang with my backpack and enjoyed the views upriver and downriver. On the other side I took a very crowded auto rickshaw to Yingkiong, getting there about 2:30. I checked into the same hotel as my previous visit and took a short walk around town. The open market along the main road was just starting up. I had an early momo dinner in the same friendly little restaurant as before and went to bed soon after 8, when the power went out.
No comments:
Post a Comment