Yaks and snowboots

Armed with my permit, I set off for tsomgo lake, climbing 7,000ft in the process (by jeep of course). If I tell you that the journey of 28km took two hours, you'll get the idea. A sign along the way exhorted us to "think of the people who risked death to bring you this road". At the third police checkpoint (we were very close to the Chinese border) there were half a dozen stalls, each selling hats and gloves. Hmmm.

I arrived at the lake to find it a bit chilly. The lake was frozen over, and the surroundings in deep snow. There was no chance of walking around it as the  guidebooks suggest. So I did what had to be done. I hired a yak and snowboots. I say snowboots...the stall was full of cool, white, snug snowboots. But in my size? I got kids' green wellies.

I'm not sure that my yak, Raju, was that happy in his work. Some of them were quite perky, but Raju (black, but with a head of blonde, Marilyn Monroe style curls, kept his head down and plodded very slowly, however often I called "choo" (which is apparently Tibetan for 'giddy up'). Half way round I got off and had a very brief try at walking up a rise, but quickly sunk in the snow up to the top of my wellies, and fell over. To add insult to injury, the yak minder then asked me what I did for a living. When I told him, he pulled an 'I guessed' expression and said "You have face of a teacher" That nearly ruined my day. Raju got me back to the other side, and in a little shack, I had some very very sweet tea and some more momos. This time with a coriander and chilli 'salsa'.

Then back to the  Mintokling Guesthouse, which is lovely. The Bhutanese owners are so kind and friendly, the beds are the comfiest in India (according to the girl from San Francisco who I met this morning - and who has four months of research under her belt) AND there's even loo roll in the bathroom - a first. But the real excitement - included in the five pound rate, is a TV! With BBCWorld! What luxury.

Amusing road sign of the day (and I have many examples): as we were passing a landslip area..."Rolling Stone ahead. Please drive carefully" I wonder which one it is?

I'd typed this far last night, when there was a power cut - and lost the lot. Two minutes later there was a roar, a clap of thunder, and then the most amazing hailstorm I've ever seen. The road was at least two inches deep in white hailstones. The lady who runs the three booth internet place fed me pastries she'd made for a festival, while I sat it out. When it stopped, I set off in the pitch dark, scrunching through the hail to my guesthouse - and yes. My torch was in my other bag. It was very scary.