We camp on the banks of the Paro Chhu. Our attempts to help erect tents are firmly rebuffed; instead, we are seated on deck chairs in front of a table spread with a pink cloth, and presented with tea and biscuits.

Bustle at camp

Woven cane baskets are unloaded from the horses and a camp is instantly formed. These campsites and the trails are all remarkably clean — Pema tells us that people who have trekked in other Himalayan countries are amazed at the pristine conditions of walking tracks in Bhutan.

For the next two days we follow the valley, the path crossing and recrossing the river on wooden cantilever bridges. Occasionally we meet Bhutanese men and women on the track; sometimes they smile and nod, other times they pump our hands, and share a joke with Pema. At a tiny settlement a small boy in green pajamas leaps into the track, arms wide, beaming up at us."Bye bye! Bye bye!" he cries.

We enter the Jigme Dorji national park, home to endangered species including snow leopard, takin, and red panda. The wildlife is constantly changing — golden birds with long blue tails, cheeky hoopoe with spiky apricot head crests, and black-and-white butterflies with intricate wings are regular companions.

On the edge of a flower-flecked meadow we stop at a low stone hut to visit a friend of Pema. It takes a while for our eyes to adjust to the dim light, as we bend low to enter the house. An old man sits cross-legged at a fire pit, where a cauldron of water is struggling to the boil.

Two grubby toddlers beside him are dressed in tracksuits and red plastic boots. I join them to warm my feet and hands and the smallest, who has fallen asleep, topples sideways into my lap. His grandfather chuckles and tenderly picks him up, laying him in a corner on a pile of blankets.

High-country scenery

As we pass the 4,000-meter mark the landscape changes. Huge rock amphitheaters are lined with crashing waterfalls, and glacial debris lies in great lumps on the widening valley floor. Duncan tells Pema that we are nearly at the height of the roof of Europe, France's Mont Blanc. He is astounded:"At this height we have apple orchards!" This becomes less surreal when we remember that mountainous, snowcapped Bhutan is on the same latitude as Cairo and Miami.

We are now in yak country, and laugh loudly at their shaggy trousers and wiry tails. "They use the hair from the tails to make altar brushes and to chase flies," says Pema. "Yak meat is very valuable — about four times the price of beef, and very dark."

Move on to At Home in the Mountains

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