Gifts from the Thunder Dragon People

by Lois Olney (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Bhutan

Plunging down the Himalayan mountain in paralyzing darkness, I cling to my bicycle named “Dragon Rider.” The smell of sweet burning juniper fills the air from fires lit to appease Bhutan’s mountain deities. I need divine assistance now to avoid every mudslide, sleepy cow, and stray dog obstructing my 26-mile downward madness. Then light flickers from behind. A guardian motorcycle illuminates my path, piercing the dense fog that rolls off blue pine and broadleaf forests. My hands loosen their death grip. As dawn’s rays steal over Bhutan’s ancient Trongsa fortress, bewitching lights from medieval ramparts wink at my quest: Daughter of the Dragon title. Who dares to test her 55-year-old stamina against a 166-mile bicycle race over four vertiginous mountain passes? My motorcycle knight gives me a thumbs up and rides away. References to chivalry seem appropriate in the land of the Thunder Dragon where His Royal Highness, Prince Jigyel Ugyen Wangchuck, rules the peloton. In 2010, he rode the one-day race between central and western Bhutan on a dare that it could not be done; hence, the Tour of the Dragon was born. According to legend, demons once ruled the foreboding peaks until guardian deities subdued them. Now I attempt to climb those same peaks, competing against my own demons as a failed athlete. Yet, I also know that attachment to expectations causes suffering, so when Chimi, a young Bhutanese racer wearing pink socks, passes me on the second mountain, I let her go. Enter Jamyang, my Bhutanese guide. He waits for me at the top of the third mountain pass where I anticipate drinking suja, a curious Bhutanese specialty of butter, salt, and black tea. I suddenly see Jamyang running towards me. “Lu,” he shouts, “Chimi is only one mile in front of you. Can you go faster?” Is he insane? I have climbed 85 miles at lung-sucking altitudes with another 82 miles and the hardest mountain looming ahead. Not to mention, I’m thirsty, have to pee, my butt’s on fire...wait…I must be strong in the mind as the Prince directs and ignore the thirst, ignore the bladder, and ignore the pain. I fight my way around a fuming construction vehicle and charge down the 33-mile descent. I choose my best line—another Prince directive— and fly through hairpin curves, redistributing my weight anywhere but on my saddle. Then I spot her: pink socks to my left, and straight ahead, the 28-mile climb up Dochula mountain. I hesitate for an eternal second. Let’s go. Miles fade into endless miles up fourteen percent gradients as I struggle to put distance between us, never daring to look back. For three hours, I stomp on the pedals. Loud wheezing clutches my airway, filling the thin air with desperate sound. My entire body threatens mutiny. Will I ever reach the prayer flags at the summit? A car slows beside me. “Do you need water?” the Bhutanese driver inquires. “No,” I rasp, “How far to the top?” “I don’t know.” He drives away. I slog on. Ten minutes later, the same car reappears, but this time from the opposite direction. “It’s five miles.” I manage a wobbly smile. Five miles shorten to four, then three, then two. Dare I look back now? I see no one; the switchbacks below me—empty. Do I see prayer flags, like sirens in the mist, beckoning me onwards? Fourteen hours and 16 minutes after I start, kind Bhutanese assist me off my bicycle and place a ceremonial victory scarf around my neck as the new Daughter of the Dragon. Unable to stand, I am overcome with exhaustion and gratitude. The deities had blessed me and Chimi, who rolled into history as the first Bhutanese woman to finish the race. At night I lie awake and relive the suffering and ecstasy of endless climbs and dizzying descents in a mystical Kingdom far away, smell the pine on its dark slopes, hear Jamyang call to me, and wonder at the gifts from the Thunder Dragon people. Do they know what gifts they bore: gifts of light, inspiration, and wisdom, but mostly, of hope? “Yes, Jamyang, I can go faster.”