Time at Phuktal Monastery
We were feeling a little despondent as we headed into Padum town from our guesthouse. The never-present owner had promised to organise a taxi to a place called Cha, one of the villages near Phuktal where it’s possible to pick up a hiking trail to the monastery, yet had failed to do so, in fact telling us we wouldn’t be able to get one at all. Not wishing to be defeated by his defeatism, we trudged off, hoping to find something or someone in town who might be able to help instead.
We tried the Korean cafe. Within minutes our Indian cake-maker had taken us to a place where the Zanskar taxi union congregates and we secured a return taxi with a paid overnight stop-over for the driver. There was concern though. A new road had been built right up to a bridge only minutes from the monastery, meaning it was now accessible on foot via a short, half-hour walk. Not only were tourists now arriving in droves via this new motorable route, but one of the two hiking paths had been obliterated and the other was thought to have deteriorated badly due to lack of use / maintenance (and this was the high mountainous one we’d hoped to follow).
Expectations duly tempered, we bounced into Cha on yet another road under construction and decided to question a local. “Is the track from Cha to Phuktal open and OK?” we asked. “No,” he said in Hindi to the driver, through a mucky purple cloth covering his mouth, “there’s work going on and it’s unsafe. Road from Purne though, that’s safe”. Disappointed further by the news we thought we’d at least do a bit of hiking along the road from Purne (the other hamlet connecting Phuktal) instead of driving the whole way.
On the way up through Cha however, we saw the track. It looked OK here – just a normal hiking path. We asked a road worker. “Is it OK? Is it safe?” “Oh yaaar,” he drawled, confidently. Taking the latter advice as gospel (it’s amazing how you decide what you want to hear) we took the chance and began the hike.
Cha to Phuktal track
Only a short trek of around 6km, the path took us through some totally stunning landscape. Wide enough for a car at this point we had an easy(ish) trudge uphill and were treated to a marvellous vista of red and claret streaked mountains, and glimpses of the churning beige Tsarap river in the valley far below. We could see the new road on the other river bank, with occasional cars and (urgh!) mini-buses ferrying tourists with ease where once they’d never have bothered. A motorbike convoy, more cars – our experience at the monastery was not going to be one of solitude and exclusivity by any means….
Cha to Phuktal track
We carried on and the track thinned out considerably, becoming as wide as two men, then one man, then at times just enough to place a foot, but at least it was in good condition and we felt confident, despite the enormous & practically sheer drop to our right. At one point though, the path was damaged – scree had covered a stretch about 5 or 6 footsteps in length and we had to make stamped indentations in it to cross (a little like my Rakaposhi Base Camp experience in Pakistan). Perhaps we’re getting hardened to this kind of terrain as we crossed with relative ease – even Helen made it over without too much fuss, albeit with a helping hand. Did she have her eyes closed?
Cha to Phuktal track
Dropping down to the river we saw a new bridge with several JCBs working the land around it, plus several vehicles, including the dreaded tour buses. Trying not to be too disappointed we headed up again, past the old rope suspension bridge now broken so badly even a madman wouldn’t attempt to cross it, and to the great, pink & blue entrance gate to the monastery. We lingered here for a few minutes and watched a controlled detonation just opposite. In the midst of the previously tranquil surroundings of a remote retreat from life, the rock exploded outwards and the whole valley reverberated with noise and echoes for several long seconds. It felt like an active desecration of paradise.
The new and old bridges over the Tsarap River (taken in the morning so no minibuses yet!)
We never really understood why the road was being built and why excavations and blastings were taking place even beyond this. For sure the monks did not want their peace shattered or to cater for an influx of bored tourists on a monastery circuit as at those surrounding Leh. We could only surmise it was local businesses, new guesthouses, yet to be built restaurants and so forth that would emerge from this ‘progress’ and make a tidy profit for a few….
There was one existing guesthouse here, of long standing, at the foot of the monastery complex, looking like a mini-monastery itself with added goats heads above the doorway. We tried our luck at getting a room. “Do you have a booking?” the child manager asked me. “Nope,” I said, “but we’re very well behaved”. Not a flicker. OK, it wasn’t really funny. “You can have this one”, leading me to a room marked 5 in white just under a black hand-daubed label reading ‘Room 101’. I gulped as I entered. A punishment for bad jokes? No – nothing more sinister than a ramshackle set of beds in a pine clad room and a stale pee smell from the squat toilet.
What it lacked in style it made up for in views – through the window we had a fabulous view of the monastery complex a few hundred meters further on. The gompa, seen from a distance, seems to emerge from the rock-face in which it’s situated, jutting out from a cave near the top with simple stone-built monks’ dwellings cascading part way down, all clinging precariously, it seems, as age and decay takes its toll. Most buildings are white, so the complex shines in the sun like a beacon. On the afternoon we arrived the impression wasn’t quite so good as the sun had retreated and dark ominous clouds, along with a low rumble of thunder made the whole atmosphere rather more muted, but wonderful nonetheless.
Around 5:30pm, after a thunderstorm had passed (it rained inside our room!), we ventured out. The approach to the complex was mesmeric and the closer we got the more we marvelled at the precarious construction. Crumbling white stupas, streaks of rain damage down the whitewashed facades of the dwellings, some with broken windows, the path ascending ever steeper as we neared the entrance. Once through, we headed down a passageway to a small courtyard overlooked by a wall of buildings stretching up to the cave above. Wonderful, neck-wrenching views. We walked further up the steps and arrived at a platform in front of the monastery. A very old monk sat on a long bench, looking in need of a shave but resplendent in his bright orange ladakhi monk’s hat. He beckoned us to sit next to him, one either side. We did and sat in quiet contemplation looking out across the platform and over to the mountains beyond. A foreign woman was the only other present, sat cross legged with eyes closed and lost in thought. Everyone else must have been driven off by the storm.
I stood up to explore further. The old monk, who’d clearly lost the ability to speak, tapped his watch, held up 6 fingers and gestured with his other hand against his mouth. He pointed at us. We took it that a meal time was imminent and that we were invited. After a quick investigation of the prayer hall above we returned, and at 6 o’clock, a monk appeared from the kitchen area above us, swiping a gong with what appeared to be a large horse hair brush. Other monks started appearing on the platform area. Some picked up long mats to shake away the dust and sat themselves down. More filed in. In what appeared to be a hierarchy of seating, older monks sat themselves in front of us to the right and younger monks took their places from older to younger to our left. The youngest amongst them were around 6 or 7 and all were quite amused at our presence there. One young kid sat himself down next to me and whispered ‘Where are you from?’. He seemed genuinely pleased with my response.
Platform overlooking the valley (From TravelShoeBum.com – no photos of monks allowed anymore)
A middle aged monk came round with two bags of fruit and we selected the least bad of two bananas, but they were still not much more than mush in yellow skin. We ate them as best we could before a lay person appeared with a large bucket and a ladle. He dished out a ladle full of what turned out to be Thukpa (a pasta based soup similar to Laghman) to each of the seated – elderly first, younger last – but not having a bowl of our own we were left foodless. Eventually a kindly monk appeared with two freshly washed tin bowls which he presented to us with great grace and we were served a portion.
Phuktal Monastery
(From TravelShoeBum.com – no photos of monks allowed anymore)
Everyone ate in silence for 10 minutes or so, until one of the older monks began a low chanting and the rest of the congregation joined in. We sat still and silent and listened to the rise and fall of the prayer, with its precise and mournful cadences, rising inflections and subtle modulations, quite dumbfounded to be here, in the company of this family of monks – just myself, Helen and the contemplative woman – and feeling welcome, wanted and well-fed. It was an experience that came out of nowhere and felt like it was worth all the effort in the world to be part of.
The party broke up quickly. Prayers over, the younger kids made a dash for the exit. We went up to the kitchen to wash our bowls under a flowing pipe and to thank the kitchen staff for our food. Encouraged by our encounter we asked if there were any more ceremonies the next day and were cordially invited to attend morning prayers at 05:30 and 08:00 if we wished. We opted to come for the 08:00 session.
Approach to Phuktal Monastery
Monks living quarters, Phuktal Monastery
Approach to Phuktal Monastery
Upward view from the small courtyard
We left it a little late to make it up to the prayer hall the next morning, and had to rush as we heard the horse hair gong. We were pretty breathless and sweaty when we arrived (it’s not far off 4000m up here), but safely inside, tucked ourselves discreetly into a corner and awaited the arrival of the monks. As per yesterday, the monks filed in, seemingly not too bothered about rushing themselves, young and old alike, and seated themselves in the hall, again according to rank, status and age. There was a hushed but obvious murmuring as whispered chats took place. Friendly glances were thrown our way and again the kids smiled and nodded to us. The lama set prayers off and this time we heard many different songs and incantations, some low chants and murmurs, some where monks added improvised interjections, and others where a strange and harmonious noise seemed to reach the ears like waves, ebbing and flowing in soothing rhythms. Like yesterday it was totally mesmeric, drawing you in with an irresistible pull. Our minds wandered who knows where, for me at least, in and out of a strange musical unreality.
General purpose buildings, Phuktal Monastery
Living quarters, Phuktal Monastery
View over the Tsarap River, Phuktal Monastery
It wasn’t totally enveloping. After a while the kids got bored and played with hats, clothing, started sighing, moped a little. A couple of older kids were a little too enthusiastic about their parts in the prayers, loudly and irreverently singing when self-restraint was no doubt called for. A light breakfast was also served in the middle (we got hot milky tea), so the peace, the transportation away from one’s normal prosaic thoughts, the uplifting, if you like, was always pretty brief. Even in a community of the devout, the noise and distractions of the mundane were never very far away. No one was going to reach nirvana in that prayer session for sure….
Despite this, we again felt immensely privileged to be there, witnessing, being part of, this everyday but incredibly special ceremony. Eventually though, after about an hour, our crossed legs became numb and we needed to move. We left in the middle of the final prayer session, where senior monks recite a number of pre-written traditional prayers from long, wide strips of parchment, each with their own style. Some were rather musical, some uttered a perfunctory drone, but the combination was surprisingly wonderful.
Stupas near Phuktal guesthouse
View from Phuktal guesthouse
We took the contemplative woman back with us to Padum (with delays as more rock was blown up), enjoyed yet more cake at the Korean bakery and spent the next few days in great frustration trying to get out of town. Our 4am shared taxi to Leh was cancelled at about 11pm the night before and we could not get another one until 24 hours later. To add to general woes (and, to be honest, to put some perspective back into ours), we discovered our next intended destination, Lamaruyu, had been badly damaged by a flash flood and even the main highway was blocked. It took us nearly 15 hours to get back to Leh via Kargil, with much fun and games changing taxis and taking long circuitous mountain routes.
Rangdum glacier en route to Kargil
Mountain road by-passing the flooded town of Lamayuru en route to Leh
We’re not 100% sure whether it was entirely worth the hassle of getting in and out of the Zanskar Valley. On the downside, the whole area seemed to be undergoing a construction boom, probably in anticipation of the new road being fully operational and easy to cross, so the air was often full of dust and noise as a consequence. It felt like we’d probably just missed the real reason to come here – to feel remote and see life in the valley before the onslaught of the commercialism that’s evident in Leh. It hadn’t reached those levels yet, not by quite a way, but you could sense it could go that way pretty soon. And yet, through all that we were lucky enough to have a few genuine, seriously uplifting moments that are all the reasons we love to travel this way. Authentic, spontaneous, welcoming and wonderful. I would love to think experiences like this can still be possible for those coming here in the future, but I suspect my optimism may be a little unfounded….
Simon (14th August 2025)
Perhaps a wee bit of travel karma gave you those wonderful experiences at the monastery after your tribulations in getting there. Just beautiful x
I’d like to think you’re right (it crossed my mind too…..). I keep performing small acts of kindness in the hope there’ll be a bit of karmic payback. Not sure if it really works that way, but I’m trying nonetheless!!
What a wonderful trek and monastery. Your final comments hits hard though. The construction work that probably started to preserve and make the area safer for the community, now opens it up for more visitors and everything that goes with that. Hopefully they can find a good balance.
So true and hopefully you’re right about the balance. This is India though and subtle it is not. They won’t be satisfied until road goes all the way to the monastery itself. An Indian friend of ours told us that he’s surprised at the numbers of domestic tourists visiting – there’s only a half hour walk to get there, but most wont entertain doing even that. The majority want stuff to drive right up to or they’re not interested…..
I have been looking into monestrys round here for you to go and contemplate, I’ve even got monks clothes for you to wear. It will be bliss!!!. Another great experience. XX
It was. It was fab. So you’ll be having be doing mosaics dressed as a monk now will you?