The Royal Highland Festival (RHF) is a highly anticipated event. This year, I chose to attend the festival not as a journalist, which is my profession, or as a researcher in my current role, but as a local tourist, seeking leisure and a break from work.
The last road point is Taktsemakha, about a two-hour drive from Gasa. From there, Laya is about a two-hour walk uphill. As our vehicle descended towards Taktsemakha, I realised that the first and vivid benefit of the highland festival was the road connection for Layaps.
It was about 12:30pm when we started walking towards Laya.
As my journey into Laya began from Taktsemakha on October 22, I was greeted by the towering mountains guiding this highland ecstasy, their peaks dusted with early snow. As I continued my journey, a clean turquoise river looped alongside us, its crystalline waters mirroring the depths of the surrounding wilderness.
Ancient regal trees lined our path, guiding us as if they, too, expected our arrival at the festival—a celebration of culture settled within nature’s embrace. The festival is a celebration of Laya’s rich highland culture and stunning beauty.
The festival, held every year on October 23rd and 24th in Laya, was initiated in 2016 under the command of His Majesty the King.
Little did I know that my visit would offer a glimpse beyond its mountains and rivers. Over my two days in Laya, I immersed myself in the festival’s vibrant atmosphere and discovered the enchanting spirit of Laya itself.
After more than an hour of walking, our host Rinzin greeted us halfway with tea and snacks—just what I needed. This warm hospitality is one of the first things you experience in Laya, where hosts customarily meet their guests midway, making every arrival feel special.
Upon entering Laya village, you’re welcomed by well-laid concrete footpaths adorned with signs directing you to various homes. The sight is mesmerising, with neatly arranged traditional houses showcasing a remarkable sense of craftsmanship. The village, home to around 500 households, exudes a charm that feels both traditional and vibrant. It was the last sight I expected with the notion that the village would look barren.
The improved sanitation and hygiene in my homestay immediately caught my attention, and I was delighted to find a well-equipped toilet with a reliable water supply—an amenity that’s otherwise uncommon here. However, the lack of toilets on the way cannot be avoided.
The gewog has seen many improvements in living standards, hygiene, and friendship with people beyond the community in terms of socio-economic impact, according to the research conducted by the Centre for Bhutan and GNH Studies. The research aimed to assess the socio-economic impacts of the Royal Highland Festival on Local Communities of Laya.
According to my host, the festival brings these annual improvements, enhancing comfort for guests and sanitation was one of them. Homestays have now become a primary source of income for locals, alongside traditional livelihoods like yak rearing and livestock products. The festival has also given villagers to earn from porterage.
According to the research, some highlanders reported earning about Nu 30,000-50,000 from Homestay and some making Nu 25,000-Nu. 30,000 from Porter Pony charges during the festival the previous year.
On October 23, festival day, we set out for Langothang, the festival venue, at 7:30 a.m. The venue, located more than 4,100m above sea level, is nearly an hour’s walk from most homestays—a tip for future visitors: ask about the location to ensure it’s within a comfortable distance. Walking uphill, dressed in my best attire and carefully applied makeup, was a challenge—I arrived at the venue happily soaked in sweat.
The weariness faded as we arrived at the festival grounds, where each stall was set up in traditional woolen tents, showcasing unique products and the distinct cultures of ten yak-rearing dzongkhags. Over 2,000 spectators, both locals and tourists, gathered to witness the event. Braving the crisp mountain air was well worth it—not only for the presence of His Majesty The King but for the warmth brought by proud highlanders, marching with their treasured yaks, horses, and mastiffs, adorned in bells and rich fabrics.
Research has proven that about 43 percent of the participants (146) stated they decided to come to this festival to experience nature as a primary reason, followed by their intention to learn about highland culture and lifestyle (35%).
The air resonated with laughter, music, and the vibrant display of highlanders in their finest attire, with women draped in coral beads and amulets, some over 400 years old—a beautiful testament to tradition and the bond between people and their animals. However, personally, I felt that while the festival has improved lives, more products from Layap should be showcased at the event. The displays were primarily exclusive to other highland districts.
By 5pm, the Laya Middle Secondary School ground was alive with music and dancing to the attest dzongkhag hits. “Aum Pejo” made it to Laya too. Who would have expected John Denvar’s County Roads to echo through Laya, with highlanders joyfully marching along to its tune? The event concludes with the song Yar Le Aae, echoing through the land and celebrating its people and yaks. As people go to bed, they look forward to the second day of the festival.
I sat back, pondering how RHF was transforming Laya into a new village, fast. Yet, to preserve the authentic experience of trekking to Laya, the road should end at Taktsemakha.
Although the festival successfully concluded on October 24, it’s essential to consider recommendations from the research, such as incorporating incense-offering rituals into the event, commercialising local incense, showcasing a wider variety of yak and livestock exhibitions, and displaying traditional artefacts and relics. Including, offering hospitality and cooking training would address some of the most common challenges raised by the highlanders.
Contributed by Yangchen C Rinzin,
Centre for Bhutan and GNH Studies