Trekking in the Barsey Rhododendron Sanctuary, Sikkim

At 6 am, a light drizzle. Then the black-bellied clouds lift languidly and the valley below Okhrey is soaked in trembling light. For breakfast, we slurp bowls of Maggi with shredded omelettes floating in the broth. We are excited to see the rhododendrons, excited for our first trek together. We lace up our hiking shoes, put on our jackets, and impatiently wait for the car to take us to Hillay, the gateway to the Barsey Rhododendron Sanctuary from where Sikkim’s famed Barsey Rhododendron Trek starts. At 7:30 am, a hailstorm.

We are already an hour late when we leave Okhrey after 9 am. Though the storm has quietened, you can still hear it seething somewhere in the distant ranges. A middle-aged Sikkimese man who plays 2000s Bollywood in his car drives us on sleek black roads winding up the mountainside. Not another vehicle. Not another soul. Only birds teetering from bough to bough. And a few clusters of searing red rhododendrons. “This time of the year, there are flowers everywhere but most of the trees haven’t yet bloomed this year,” he tells us. “It has already snowed thrice and now this weather.” “Does it not snow here?” I ask. “Not with such vengeance.”

This is not the season for rain, forget hail. This is what we, urban Indians, with our relentless thirst for development and our blatant disregard for the environment, our shameful silence have gifted these mountains: death. Or, in the language of science, climate change.

By the time we reach the check-post at Hillay 40 min later, columns of clouds have crowded the sky again. We realize we are woefully underprepared for the trek. Aninda’s shoes aren’t waterproof and very soon, we will realize that our jackets aren’t waterproof either. We pay for entrance, INR 25 per person and another INR 25 for the camera, unlatch the gate, and walk through the pretty yellow Sikkimese-style gateway.

Fifteen minutes into the sanctuary and it is raining cats and dogs. I tell Aninda that we should turn back. The wind rushing through the trees creates an otherworldly sound that leaves the hair on the back of my neck standing. We encountered a few trekkers exiting the sanctuary while we entered but now I see no one. What if we are stranded? What if either of us slips on the muddy trail and there’s an accident? I am breathless with anxiety. From where we are, we can hardly see the demeanour of the sky but the rain keeps pouring through gaps in the foliage, dribbling down the edges of leaves relentlessly.

“You can do it,” he says and he says it again and again. We lace fingers and walk and we keep walking. The woods close in on us. Not a shard of sunlight but we press ahead, hearts pounding. Looking back, were it not for him, I would have turned back. The rain and the thunder were so menacing.

Also read: Check out our Uttarey, Sikkim, Travel Guide if you are planning to do the entire trek.

Every three years, there is a megabloom of rhododendrons in the Barsey Rhododendron Sanctuary. Almost all the 13 species bloom, turning the mountainside into an opulent tapestry. This was supposed to be such a year. The sun-dappled forest was supposed to be ablaze in reds and pinks and whites. Though the endless greenery is calming, I am disappointed and grumpy the rain isn’t helping.

The trails are muddy. The hailstones from the morning’s shower are yet to melt. They cover parts of the trail, pristine like snow. We walk gingerly over the slippery ground, underneath thickets of bamboo and trees we do not know the names of. Here and there, creamy white magnolias disrupt the monotony of green. I pray for clear skies as I walk but it’s not our day.

The rhododendron gets its name from the Greek rhodon, “rose” and dendron, “tree.” The flowers, which symbolised danger in Victorian folklore, indeed look like big, showy clusters of roses. In thickets of youthful trees, they defy the rain and the cold and bloom with abandon but it is the flowerless old growth trees that are the most majestic. Lichens trail like veils from their branches; their trunks are blanketed with moss that may be hundreds of years old.

In a sanctuary like this, you’d expect to be treated to birdsongs and why not? After all, niltavas, myzornis, rosefinches, warbles, orioles, and many other species call the sanctuary home. But there are none today. The wind whooshes rabidly through the vegetation, howling as it sprints through the valley and up the mountainous wall. Then there’s the relentless tap-tapping of the rain, claps of thunder, the crunch of hailstones under our boots, and suddenly as if from nowhere, boisterous laughter. Few fifty metres ahead, we find them, a group of merry trekkers catching their breath at a rest stop. They have the effect of an energy bar on us and we begin to walk, or rather run, as fast as our legs would carry us away from them!

“Do you think they scared the birds?” I ask. “More than the rain,” Aninda quips. We are more than halfway done; the anxiety has mostly dissipated and though I can’t say that I’m enjoying the trek but I’m liking it: the endlessness of the woods, its calm breathing. I am liking it more and more. The moss-fringed trail adorned with primulas. How it twists and turns and vanishes!

There are 3 rest stops on the way. After the last one, the trail becomes considerably steeper. Every corner we turn, a steeper climb uphill awaits us. We are breathless as we huff and puff up the slopes and are swallowed by a swath of swirling clouds. We emerge on a clearing, ringed by rhododendron trees full of buds. A few metres ahead, drunk with the sky’s sorrows, lies Guras Tal. On another day, the reflection of an azure sky would laze languidly on its still waters but today it is gloomy, a patina of steely grey. The temperature has dropped considerably and the wind rushing over the reservoir chills our bones. We take the fork towards Guras Kunj and hurry down the bridle path that surrounds the reservoir. It is here that we walk into a rhododendron fiesta. Rows of trees bearing red, pink, white, and coral blossoms greet us! Their petals line the path, banishing from sight the unkempt underbrush. Our rain-dampened spirits rejuvenated, we run from tree to tree admiring the blossoms. In a few minutes, we are drenched to the skin.

Also read: For a completely different trekking experience, check out the Double-Decker Living Root Bridge Trek in Meghalaya.

On a clear day, the 4 km stretch of the Barsey Rhododendron Trek to Guras Kunj would take no more than 90 min. But today, it takes us 2 hrs to scramble into the tiny kitchen and huddle in front of the dim fire at Guras Kunj. We order cups of tea and wait for our bodies to stop shivering, our teeth to stop clattering. With the weather worsening steadily, we decide to not proceed towards Barsey and turn around to trek back to Hillay.

Drenched to the skin, our palms freezing, our feet trapped in wet socks and wetter shoes, we begin the trek back to Hillay. Where there were pockets of icy hailstones, there are puddles now. Little waterfalls have sprouted from nowhere. They run across the trail with careless abandon. The rain is no longer the romantic symphony of the hills; it is a tropical downpour with thunder growling like a beast. We rush down the mountainside, stopping only to catch our breath and emerge an hour and fifteen minutes later at the check-post where the ranger’s little hut shelters us.

We sit by the dim fire, and order ginger tea and soupy Wai Wai which we wolf down with little to no respect for table matters. The ranger’s cats eye us curiously, visibly upset to have guests at siesta time! Outside, in the rain-darkened courtyard, two old rhododendron trees are in bloom. One of them is pink, the other is the lesser know white variety. The flowers, well past their youth, glow with a matronly fervour. Their fading white petals are in stark contrast with the black-bellied clouds. I do not know why I choose to not take a photo but as I look at them, a sudden wave of gratitude rises up in my throat. I am grateful for being able to share the sanctity of these woods, to explore it with Aninda. I am grateful for being able to witness such beauty.

Somewhere on the way back, shivering in the back of the car, I weep.

Also read: Wondering where to go next? Check out our Rinchenpong, Sikkim, Travel Guide.

When to visit Barsey?

Barsey is located in West Sikkim near the Nepal border. The roads are good and you can visit year-round but the sanctuary is at its magical best between mid-March to mid-May when the rhododendrons are in bloom. Enquire beforehand about the weather. The flowers bloom late after a harsher winter.

How to reach the Barsey Rhododendron Sanctuary?

You can enter from Hillay or Uttarey. Hillay, or Hilley, is 132 km from Siliguri and takes a little more than 6 hrs to reach via Jorethang, Sombaria, and Okhrey. Uttarey is at the northern end of the park. It takes anywhere between 7-8 hrs to drive the 157 km to Uttarey from Siliguri.

Lodging is available at Hillay and Uttarey. Okhrey, 5 km from Hillay, also has some lovely homestays. Mr. Sange Sherpa from Sherpa Lodge can help you with guides should you plan to trek the complete route. Kipepeo also runs departures on this route in April.

How long is the Barsey Rhododendron Trek? Is it an easy trek?

The complete trek from Hillay to Uttarey can take anywhere between 5 and 7 days depending on your fitness. Most tourists only trek the section from Hillay to Barsey or stop at Guras Kunj.

The Barsey Rhododendron Trek is an easy trek with a few uphill sections. The trekking distance from Hillay to Barsey and back is around 9 km and takes around 4 hrs. On a rainy day, the trails are muddy and it can take longer.

Dormitories are available at Guras Kunj and Forest Barrack. Food and lodging is INR 1000 per head. Book early as they get booked out quickly in spring when most trekkers come to see the flowers.

What to pack for the Barsey Rhododendron Trek?

No matter the forecast, pack waterproof hiking boots. We learnt our lesson the hard way! Rain jackets, light to medium fleeces or sweaters, full-sleeved shirts, and trekking pants will do in the spring. Dress in layers. Take hats, scarves, and thick socks. If you are visiting in the winter, pack heavier woollens.