ON THE BORDERS OF TIBET; OUR CAMP AT NIAGZU.
ON THE BORDERS OF TIBET; OUR CAMP AT NIAGZU.
At this stage we had come nearly forty-five miles from Ludhkong, and this was Niagzu, a place well worthy of note, for it neither lies in Ladakh nor in Tibet. We had thus reached the border of the land we were anxious to traverse. Having pitched our camp, we looked forwardto the morrow with composed feelings. First of all, we knew our mules and ponies would enjoy a complete day of rest and freedom, wandering through the fresh green grass or by the clear, trickling stream. We felt our success depended in no small measure upon their welfare. We rejoiced, too, that thus far we had managed by tact to prevent our men from turning back, and reckoned that, could we only manage to go a little distance beyond the frontier, they would be in our hands and not we in theirs. We had, in truth, overcome what we considered as difficulties such as made us more sanguine for the future. The day we waited at Niagzu for the arrival of our hired yak was an ideal one, when much could be done in rearranging the loads we had with us for the continuation of the journey. The numerous hares, too, afforded sport and provender for ourselves and our men. How anxious they were to hallal this small game in the orthodox manner, little dreaming that a few months later hunger would cause all these religious scruples to be put aside and forgotten for the time being!
While waiting here we experienced our first annoyance with relation to the straying of animals by night. Although at Niagzu we enjoyed good shelter, grass, and water, yet on the following morning few animals were in sight, and it was midday before they were all recovered. We almost dreaded to think of what would happen should we chance to halt where there was no grass, and where we intended marching early the next day. They would quite naturally wander during the night to an indefinite distance. Our chain hobbles, though most effective, and with which we had been so pleased, were at a discount with our men, for they hated an innovation, and infinitely preferred a long search of some miles after a strayed mule to the two minutes' work necessary to fasten on securely one of our chain hobbles.
We learnt from some of the hired yakmen, who had travelled still further inland to collect salt, that there was another pass of considerable height to cross over before we should have journeyed very far east of Niagzu. Such being the case, it was evident that the trial of crossing a high pass so early in our expedition without hired assistance would be most detrimental to the well-being of our transport, loaded as they would have to be up to the brim. We determined, therefore, to bring forward every inducement in persuading some of the owners of the hired yak to lend us their animals as far as the other side of this pass.
The day following our arrival at Niagzu there was no sign of our baggage at all, but the day after this, about noontime, our anxiety was relieved at seeing some of the laden yak just turning the corner to come up the Niagzu valley. From the higher ground above our tents a fine view down the whole of the valley was obtained, as well as of the range of snow mountains far away in the distance. The transport came in by driblets, as also did the flock of sheep, and it was quite clear that these latter would not last out for many more marches.
The day on which our yak arrived chanced to be a Sunday, so we were glad to be compelled to rest on that day. We clearly foresaw that in future, Sunday or no Sunday, we should be forced by circumstances to waste no single day. This last Sunday of rest was in consequence doubly appreciated, and it was some months before we were enabled to enjoy another.
MORTALITY AMONG SHEEP—LAKE TREB—THE NAPU LA PASS—SICKNESS OF BAKR HADJI—RUDOK OFFICIALS COMMAND US TO RETREAT.
Early on the morning of the 18th May all was hustle and bustle at Niagzu. First of all we were sending off our sheep, followed by our hired yak. We had persuaded the owners to lend us twelve yak and three ponies as far as the other side of the pass called the Napu La. By sending these sheep and slow travelling yak ahead, we made a handicap of the march. We ourselves, after seeing nearly all the mules and ponies loaded up, followed next, leaving our own men behind to bring them on. Little did we dream that these same men, as soon as we had disappeared, were about to remain where they stood for two hours, idly waiting with all the animals loaded up and tied together in groups. Still we knew that just at present we had not sufficient power over them to rebuke them for their unwarrantable laziness.
Our road all day lay through stony valleys, enlivened by two cosy nooks called Mitpah Yungmah and Mitpali Conmah, where bright green grass flourished, and where a clear rivulet trickled over a sandy bed, sheltered by rocks and steep hills from the severe winds. At these two small camping grounds the officials from Rudok sometimes place a detachment of soldiers to prevent any foreigners from entering the country from that quarter. Although ignorant of it at the time, wediscovered afterwards that we were in reality lucky not to have already met with opposition to our journey.
Far snugger than these two spots was the place called Nurtse, where we halted for the night. From here onwards our flock of sheep began to give way, and we had to sell fourteen of them to our yakman for seven rupees. Our men might have eaten mutton all day long, and yet would have failed to keep pace with the death of the poor sheep.
We passed over a good deal of snow, the remnant of the winter, yet nothing sufficiently bad to impede us at all. We saw very little to shoot excepting a few kyang which were, of course, of no use to us. The kyang or wild ass of Tibet and Ladakh usually stands about fourteen hands; he is of a light brown colour, with white throat, belly, and legs; rather heavy in neck and shoulders, he is, nevertheless, a graceful mover, and there are few prettier sights than a herd of them scampering over some wide plain. Perhaps they have been startled by the unwonted sound of a rifle; off they go, full gallop. Soon curiosity outweighs fear, and back they come to have a look at the intruder. All standing in line they gaze at him from a hundred yards or so, apparently considering whether he is really dangerous or not; then, at a word from the leader, they wheel round and are off again, only to repeat the performance a few moments later, a performance that has ruined many a well-planned stalk before now.
Our guide, who in his time had been a salt collector, and knew the lay of the country, proved himself to be invaluable. Without him, the route we took would have been very hard indeed to find, and to him we owed the steady progress we daily made, not that we went at any rapid rate, or as a rule for any great length of time each day, but we were marching in the right direction, we were travelling east. By reason, too, of the assistance we received from the hired yak, we were able to ride ponies, and it was our wont, after startingoff our sub-surveyor in front of every one else, to start ourselves ahead of the caravan, with our cook, Lassoo, likewise mounted. We carried our rifles and ammunition, while he carried in his saddlebags our cold breakfast with some tea leaves and a kettle to boil them in. As soon as we considered that half the march had been covered, we would halt by a stream, if there were one, or by a patch of snow, and boil our water. During these operations the caravan would catch us up again and march on ahead of us. In this way we were enabled to keep an eye upon our men without appearing to do so and thereby raise their suspicions.
On the third day from Niagzu we made our breakfast halt by the side of a valley close to some white stones. From this point two more lines of white stones lay at intervals, separated at an angle of some twenty degrees, and ran right away across the valley and over the opposite hills. We were told that this was a gazelle trap laid by the nomads. As soon as they can contrive to get gazelle into the space between these two lines, they drive them along between them. The gazelle being afraid of the stones continue to be driven on to where the stones meet, where they are easily captured, and sometimes a big haul is made. Although we saw plenty of gazelle about here, they were very timid, and as we had no time to go in for a recognised stalk, we shot none at this period, nor did we drive any between the two lines of white stones!
On the same evening, after crossing a waterless, stony plain for several miles, we reached Lake Treb, so famous for the salt that is taken away from its neighbourhood and carried into Ladakh. Salt, in fact, is collected from any spot within a hundred miles of Ladakh wherever it can be found. We had been marching twelve hours upon arrival at this lake, and it was already dark. Our chances of finding fresh water were very small, for our guide informed us that therewas none to be had till we reached the other side of the lake, another four miles. Certainly there was no water running into the lake from this side, and the guide's statement would have been correct, had we not luckily found two small patches of snow and a little grazing close by.
Marching after sunset is without doubt a mistake, for when a halt is made the animals are unloaded carelessly and the loads are thrown about in any fashion; the men become tired and short-tempered, and should there be no moon, there is necessarily much delay in searching for the things that are required, especially when candles are at a minimum. The animals' grain is wasted as well as the men's rations, tents won't pitch, the water won't boil, animals stray, and everybody is blaming some one else.
All such petty annoyances, however, are very soon forgotten again, when, after a sharp frosty night, a glorious morning like that we experienced at Lake Treb announces the commencement of another day. Everything, even the crystallised salt, sparkled in those first brilliant rays, nor was there the remotest breath of wind; all was perfect stillness.
Far away south of us lay a towering range of snow peaks. Their distance seemed to increase their overpowering grandeur and one could with difficulty cease to gaze at each outline of this pure white magnificence. To east and north of us lay Lake Treb, backed by more ranges of mountains. Even Lake Treb itself, which on a dull day would have probably produced a suicidal despondency in the gayest of hearts, seemed to throw aside its natural gloom and rejoice like its grander neighbours at the cheer and brightness of the sun's first rays.
We were almost tempted to try a swim in the salt water, but on close examination we found the shore sloped down in terraces to the water's edge, where it became soft and treacherous. All this distinctly showed that the size of thelake must have been for many years gradually decreasing, and one is led to believe that such is the case in regard to most salt lakes in Tibet. The water, we were surprised to find, was not nearly so brackish as the surroundings would have induced one to believe. The only life we saw about it were a few Brahmini ducks and a couple of geese, which latter did not settle on the lake.
CROSSING THE NAPU LA (18,500 FEET HIGH).
CROSSING THE NAPU LA (18,500 FEET HIGH).
Throughout Tibet we never saw any kind of game on any salt lake, with the exception of the Brahminis. At the east side of the lake lies the foot of the Napu La (pass).
All the way, a track leads up a narrow, stony, and rocky gorge, an almost impossible road after a fall of snow. To have taken our own animals over this pass carrying heavy loads would have been ruination to our plans, and we more than ever congratulated ourselves on having engaged the assistance of these fifteen extra hired animals. Duringthese few days too, a certain amount of grain and bhoussa had been eaten, so that our mules and ponies on this occasion were not really heavily laden. At the top of the pass was the usual pile of stones and sticks which always have been erected in these regions, to denote that the summit is reached. The stones had been piled up in the centre of the col, while a little snow lay on the adjacent heights, which it connected.
A snap shot with the Kodak at some of our poor animals after a four hours' climb was an opportunity not to be lost, for the pass was nearly 18,500 feet above the sea level.[1]After descending for a short distance, we saw below us a fine glacier sloping downwards from north to south; to have attempted to cross it would have been madness itself. Around its southern edge we found a narrow and very steep track, which we followed, and as soon as we had found some fair grass, lower than and beyond the precincts of the glacier, we halted for the night, the place being called Tanjun. Although our own animals had managed thus early to cross this pass, yet it was not until the following afternoon that the hired yak arrived.
At this stage we began to taste of difficulties and casualties. First of all our hired transport would go no further, and henceforth we were entirely dependent upon our own animals. One of our men, too, Bakr Hadji by name, a Yarkandi, declared that he could proceed no more. He lay on his back, and, rolling his eyes, moaned continuously. We pitied him, for he seemed a fairly decent sort of fellow, but we had no desire, so early in our trip, to be encumbered by a sick man. We concluded that he was suffering from mountain sickness, though all the Argoons came to us protesting that Bakr Hadji was a Yarkandi, and like all other Yarkandis had a "chota dil," or in otherwords, was chicken-hearted; they maintained that they themselves were of very different kidney, and prepared to follow us wherever we might choose to go. It was, at any rate, manifest that our men had no intention of turning back just at present, for with the return of the hired yak-men an easy opportunity was open to them, and in all probability it would be their last. Our guide, who had served us so well, agreed to come along with us one more day.
Our road lay through a broad valley, which stretched away eastwards, with a small stream which took its rise from the glacier running down its centre. On either side were small grassy nullahs, suitable spots for encampments. The guide told us that in two or three days we should find ourselves amongst men living in a district called Rundore, and that we should have met men before had not a great many of them been summoned to strengthen the post at Rudok. He himself was anxious to turn back before coming amongst the men of Rundore, for he was convinced that he would meet with but scant civility for having been the cause of bringing us that way.
After we had marched down the valley for about a dozen miles, we overtook two nomads, and having supplied them with some tobacco and other small articles we thought they would appreciate, we entered into negotiations as to their willingness to come along with us and show us a road that ran eastwards, receiving in return for their services food and money, and some small present, such as a knife. They became in time ready to accept these proposals, and promised to show us the way to Mangtza-Tso (or lake) where they said we should arrive in four or five days. They, however, feared the Rundore men, and said that they would undoubtedly stop our progress, should they happen to learn that we were in their vicinity. Yet they hoped before meeting with any opposition to take a turning up a certain valley to the left, and thus escape observation.
Throughout this valley we found sand-grouse, kyang, yak, and the heads of several dead ovis ammon; doubtless some of the adjacent ranges abounded in game. But at the present time we were still living on our sheep, nor had we time to waste in shikar pure and simple, for however fine a head we might have knocked over, we could never have dreamed of carrying it with us; besides, we valued each cartridge, and had no inclination to waste any on a useless errand.
OUR THREE RUNDORE GUIDES.
OUR THREE RUNDORE GUIDES.
It was remarkable that although we were over 16,000 feet high, above the sea level, yet we were glad to cast aside our lambskin waistcoats and thickly-lined puttoo coats, and bask in the sun over our breakfast in our shirt-sleeves, while some of our men became ill, partly on account of the warm climate during the day, but chiefly from the excessive amount ofmutton they ate. At night-time there were well over twenty degrees of frost.
We had not marched very far with our two guides before they pointed out to us two roads. One road continued down the valley we were in for a few more miles, and then turned up to the left hand along another nullah. The second road led over the hills into the same nullah, cutting off a corner. We had already discovered that with baggage animals the longest way round is the shortest way there, or in other words, that a dozen miles of level marching is easier for them, and takes less out of them, than half a dozen miles of steep climbing, which almost invariably did harm to one or more animals. We therefore sent on the mules to make the detour, while we ourselves cut across the hills. Even during this short climb we saw both ovis ammon and goa, and hitting off the nullah before the arrival of our caravan, we sat down by the stream that wound its way to the main one, and, having found some dry droppings, made our fire and the water boil.
As time wore on, we began to grow anxious about our caravan, and suspected that something adverse must have happened. We were just about to retrace our steps, when the leading mules made their appearance round the corner, and in less than an hour we were once more amongst our followers. The only deficiency was the absence of the two guides, who having pointed out this route, had refused to go any further.
Now we saw the folly of having left our caravan even for that short period, for had we been present we should never have allowed the guides to leave us in that fashion. We now began to suspect there was something in the wind, and decided that our best plan would be to march as far as we could, and perhaps avoid contact with anybody.
Our road unfortunately began to wind too much to our left, and, not wishing to run the risk of taking our animalsin the wrong direction, we called a halt, resolving to explore further ahead, and find out whether there was not some other nullah that ran more eastwards, before launching forth the whole of our caravan along an uncertain route.
Shortly after we had unloaded, and while the animals were picking up what little grazing they were able to get, our two guides suddenly reappeared accompanied by several other men, and, during the evening, others continued to flock in from Rundore. We invited the headmen to our tent and endeavoured to persuade them to allow some one to show us the way to Mangtza-Tso. At first they would not hear of such a proposal; they denied the existence of any road, and even hinted at opposing us. Thereupon we adopted fresh tactics, and quietly told them that if such were their game we should retrace our steps down the nullah we were in and march down the main nullah right through the Rundore district on to Lhassa. This produced a consultation resulting in their willingness to show us a road that would take us direct to Mangtza-Tso. Everything was finally settled agreeably to both sides, and we became friends for the time being.
On their departure from our presence, we were congratulating ourselves upon the good fortune that continued to follow us, when to our astonishment some officials from Rudok rode in in hot haste, and throughout the night and following morning we constantly heard fresh arrivals, the rapid jingling of the bells which were hung round the ponies' necks proclaiming how hurriedly they were riding. It was dark, and we could hear men's voices from the stream that ran down the centre of the nullah, while we ourselves had encamped close to the mountain side. We could see they had lit some fires and were sitting and standing around them, occupied in eager conversation. From the light of the flames we could see their matchlocks standing up againstone another on the ground. Our hopes, which only a short time ago had been so sanguine, had now received a severe blow, and we wondered, yet guessed, what the intentions of these men might be.
In order to solve this mysterious gathering we sent and invited the chief men to our tent. Two of them were before very long ushered in by Esau, intelligent-looking fellows enough and open to hear all we had to say, yet staunch in their determination to obstruct our further march onwards up the nullah we were in. Threats, bribes of money and goods, as well as every other kind of argument, entirely failed to carry any weight with these Rudok officials, for they very wisely remarked that "if we allow you to go this road, we shall for such an act of disobedience undoubtedly lose our heads, whereas if we stop you we shall receive a reward." They maintained that they would rather risk being killed in attempting to oppose us than meet with certain death for negligence of their work in letting us go through. Argue as we might, nothing would alter their determination, namely, that the only road open to us was back by the road we had come. It was by this time growing late, and the officials took their leave of us.
Throughout the still night we could hear the loud talk and peals of laughter that rang out from the groups of men who had bivouacked by the stream.
At daybreak we discovered that more men had swollen the gathering, but nevertheless we began to load up as usual, and having distributed our sporting rifles and guns amongst our muleteers, tried to impress upon them the necessity of having to fight our way through, should we meet with opposition.
A few hundred yards from our encampment, in the direction in which we were anxious to go, was a stone wall, built probably as a shelter against the wind, and behind this the Rundore and Rudok men had taken up a position, andfrom their demonstrations it was evident that they did not intend to let us go by easily.
X WALL BEHIND WHICH THE TIBETANS FORMED UP.
X WALL BEHIND WHICH THE TIBETANS FORMED UP.
As soon as our last mule had been loaded and we had begun to move towards the wall, our opponents rushed forth and began to drive our animals back, meeting with little or no resistance from our faint-hearted followers, who had no pluck to face superior numbers, whose actions and feelings were those of fanatics. A loaded revolver pointed at a few paces distant at the chest of one of them had no other result than to induce the man to tear aside his garments, and, showing his bare flesh, point to us to shoot at it. Such frenzied determination on the part of these Tibetans proved to us that we should never make any headway in the desired direction, and that our only chance of being able to do so would have been to shoot the most determined of our obstructionists. But inasmuch as we had not started on the expedition with the remotest inclination to shoot Tibetans, we stayed our hands. Evensupposing we had shot some of them, it would have been a very hazardous step to have risked a serious scrimmage almost on our very frontier. We also reflected upon the results of such an affair; not only would it bar any future travellers from peaceably entering the country from this direction, but we ourselves would be pestered for many days to come by an increasing force of Rundore and Rudok men following in our rear.
Therefore, after we had been driven back some distance and were left alone again, we pitched a fresh camp with the intention of remaining another day, in hopes that something or other would turn up in our favour. Perhaps we might get round these officials after all, or perhaps others of more influence would in the meantime arrive from Rudok and allow us to go the way we wanted, when they became convinced that we had no intention of making an attempt on Lhassa.
Such were our faint hopes as we commenced unloading, for we dreaded beyond measure the very idea of having to recross the Napu La a second time, being alone dependent upon ourselves for doing so.
Throughout the morning we tried every means we could think of to be allowed to march up this nullah, which they called Kerambutabuk. The officials informed us that no other Englishmen had ever been there before, and that, had their men, whose duty it was, been properly on the look-out, we ought never to have been permitted to come so far. These officials were quite reasonable and sensible men, and hoped we would not fight, for they said that war between the English and Tibetans would result in consequence.
It was a very cold and raw day we spent in this Kerambutabuk nullah, and most of the time, too, sleet was falling. The only noise we heard, besides an occasional sudden blast, was the firing off of the Tibetan matchlocks further up thevalley, and the tinkling bells on the ponies of fresh arrivals as they trotted past a few hundred yards from our tents. There had been so much ringing all day long that, by the end of the day, quite a small army had been amassed.
We told our friends that we wished to go into Turkistan, but the upshot of all our war meetings ended in our having to retire by the same way we had come, namely, over the Napu La, thence northwards to the frontier pass called Lanak La. They agreed to give us four men to show us the way as far as Lanak La, but did not see the force of giving us any help with our transport.
OUR RETREAT—CROSSING THE BORDERLAND OF TIBET—A STRANGE ACCOUCHEMENT—SPORT—PONIES SHOT.
On the following morning we commenced our retirement, followed by a large body of Tibetans, armed with matchlocks and spears. Most of them were very dirty-looking little fellows, with long black locks, strongly reminding one of some ofPunch's"Prehistoric Peeps." Their guns, which we examined, consisted of a long smooth-bore barrel, roughly fastened on to a stock, with a wooden prong on which to rest the gun when firing.
At the corner of this nullah, where it joined the main Rundore valley, was a small nomad encampment called Kerinagar. These people lived in some very dirty and dilapidated old tents, and possessed a small amount of grain and a few sheep, but the prices they demanded for them were high. Close by was a hill called Chotenchenbo, conspicuous amongst a chain of others. The hill is probably volcanic, as these nomads informed us that every month much noise was emitted from the summit, which has so worked upon their imaginations that they hold it in the deepest veneration, and on the 15th day of each month numbers of people from the surrounding district come to worship and propitiate the spirit of the mountain.
We found it heartrending work having to retrace our steps to the Napu La again, and in order to waste as little time as possible, and reach new ground, we made longmarches, testing our animals to the utmost. Certainly there is a shorter road to Lanak La crossing over the Serai La and cutting off a corner. But here again we were foiled, for the men we sent on ahead to discover the possibility of going that way reported the pass to be deep in snow and absolutely impassable for ponies and mules. As we marched along this valley we had more leisure for shikar, as our surveying, etc., had already been completed. Malcolm knocked over an antelope, and being alone at the time, hallaled the animal himself; but our followers, being filled with pride and mutton, declared that nothing on earth would induce them to eat the meat, for it had not been hallaled by one after their own religion. Little did they dream at the time how, before very long, they would have to change their minds and be a little less particular. Our four nomad guides thoroughly enjoyed their frugal feast, as they sat round a fire of droppings, boiling what meat we gave them in a small pot, while the bones themselves, after having scraped off every particle of meat and skin from them, they broke between two stones, and ate the marrow raw, just as it was, without any boiling or stewing.
This was the last occasion on which we saw anything of our big dog Tundu. He wasn't going over that Napu La again, and having had a royal repast over portions of the slain antelope, he perhaps imagined that if he remained where he was there would be an equally big meal every evening. Nearly a year after this desertion of Tundu we learnt, when we were back in India again, that this dog had turned up one day at the Residency in Leh, where Capt. Trench was living, in somewhat reduced condition. He must have found his way back of his own accord over three hundred miles. Our little fox terrier bitch Ruby had no hesitation in re-crossing the Napu La, for nothing on earth would have induced her to remain with the nomads, amongst whom she had made her presence most obnoxious.
We made a long, toilsome march over the pass again, down to the entrance of the gorge, close by Lake Treb. There we found two small pools of fresh water close to our camp, but no grass whatever, so there was nothing left for us but to lessen our loads by doling out a pound of grain all round and three bags of bhoussa.
During the recrossing of this pass, there were a few of the animals who were unable to keep pace with the majority, necessitating one of the men being left behind to bring them on. This was the first experience of many such delays we were about to meet with during the next few months.
In this gorge we picked up some curiously-pointed stones, relics, perhaps, of a bygone age.
Owing to the great care we took of our animals when recrossing the Napu La, they were better off as regards sore backs and galls than we could have anticipated. Their chief ailment showed itself in the shoulder, at the point where the front ends of the saddle terminated. The shoulders used to swell from the irritation caused, and matter would form, yet there appeared to be but very little pain attached to it, and after the swelling had broken, and the place had healed, the animal never suffered again from the same cause. When possible, we used to change the palan with the wooden saddle of another animal, and in some cases averted the evil altogether. There is no doubt, with properly padded palans so as to prevent the ends from pressing against the shoulders, or if the ends themselves were bevelled off, there would be none of these sore shoulders at all. Our sore backs up to the present time were practically nil.
As we marched northwards along the eastern shore of our old friend Lake Treb, shut in on one hand by the mountains, and on the other by the water, the sun's morning rays beat down with surprising warmth at this height of just under 16,000 feet, and finding no fresh waterrunning into the lake we were tempted to test the water of Treb itself. It turned out to be far less saltish than that on the other side of the lake, and on giving our ponies and mules free access to the water's edge they drank the precious liquid eagerly. The four guides informed us that the nomads frequently bring their ponies to the lake to drink the water for its medicinal purposes. It was more than ever a wonder to us to find the water very nearly fresh, for along the banks there lay a white crust of saline particles resembling snow, and when the wind blew, a cloud of this fine white powder was raised, not at all unlike sea spray. In some places close to the edge was a layer of ice.
At nightfall we halted by the northern edge of this lake by a fresh water spring. Here we found numerous Brahminis and a few geese, and a fair amount of antelope dwelt in the hills close by.
That evening the wind blew with sufficient force to create considerable waves in the lake. The water itself was of dark Prussian blue, its colour being intensified by the background of snow mountains and the last rays of the setting sun. This grand sight, together with the clouds of fine salt, reminded one vividly of the sea itself. Our ponies and mules were let loose all the night long, but as no other grass could be seen, excepting what was close to the spring, they had no occasion to stray; besides, they had really not recovered from the effects of the useless double crossing of the Napu La.
We left the lake behind us blessed with another brilliant morning, the sun again becoming intensely hot about 8 or 9 o'clock. At this time, we used to find this the hottest hour of the day, before the wind had come; then, with the rising wind, clouds were very often blown over too, making the middle of the day sometimes quite chilly. After sunset again the wind would drop, and every star would shine out clearly and brightly.
This same day, the 29th May, we reached the foot of the eastern side of the pass, called Lanak La, the very same pass that Bower had crossed some five years ago, when, first of explorers in this direction, he made his famous journey across Tibet, passing a few miles north of Lhassa. We found fairly good grass growing here, the best, in fact, we had come across since leaving Niagzu. We decided, therefore, to stop a day and give our transport a chance to recover their strength, especially as on that very evening two ponies and one mule had failed to reach camp. Our casualties were already beginning in earnest.
It was now a full month since the day when our caravan, under Shahzad Mir, had started from Leh for the Pangong Lake. They had only traversed 397 miles and were already beginning to give way, yet we had only just reached the borderland of Tibet, for Lanak La separates Ladakh from Tibet, and our journey across this country only commenced from here. Our store of grain and bhoussa was now reduced to thirteen maunds of grain and twenty maunds of bhoussa, while nearly a month's rations of the men had been consumed. That evening there were twenty-four degrees of frost, and little Ruby, who during her life had only felt the severity of an Indian winter, begged for a warm seat, and was allowed one on my knees beneath a thick fur-lined coat, while we made our evening repast. Her appreciation of this comfortable bed she signified by giving birth to five pups. Three of these little beggars we soon put out of their misery, and after the first day Ruby would have nothing to do with the remaining couple. They were placed in a box well protected from any wind or cold, placed between some bags of bhoussa on the back of a quiet mule. Ruby, however, would only condescend to cross Tibet in this lordly fashion for one day. Her nose was outside the box all throughout the march, with no consideration for her two little pups. On the second march she jumpedout altogether, for she far more enjoyed trotting along by our sides and putting her nose into every little hole with the chance of finding shikar.
On the morning after our arrival at the foot of Lanak La, we woke up with the astounding news that our four nomad guides had deserted, with what object it was difficult to imagine. We had intended before parting with them to have given them some slight remuneration, for they had been willing helpers, and had proved themselves useful to us in many ways.
On leaving this place, we wanted, if possible, to strike off a route which is called the Polu road, running in a northerly direction into Turkistan, and after following this road for a few days to strike due east again.
Our men, however, seemed more in favour of crossing the Lanak La into Ladakh, and finding a way from thence into Turkistan, and thence across to China. An idea of this kind we would not entertain for a moment, inasmuch as we should have at once given up the object of our expedition. They enumerated the amount of supplies that had already been consumed, and were anxious to travel as far as Khotan, and lay in a fresh store before making for China. We explained to them the distance we were from Khotan, and the idiocy of adopting such a measure, and reassured them that as long as we had guns and ammunition there was no need to fear of ever running short of food, and even if we did that we could easily strike north again at any moment, and reach Turkistan in a very short time. Fortunately, that same day, when Malcolm was away spying out the country, he shot a yak, and as one of the muleteers was at hand to hallal the beast, he and his comrades were enabled to feast on all the tit-bits they fancied to their heart's content, helping considerably to put them in a better frame of mind.
At daybreak, the man who remained behind with themule and two ponies, came into camp with the former, declaring that the ponies were too weak to go any further. Not wishing to lose any animals so early in our trip, we sent back other men with grain, but they too returned, corroborating what had already been told us by the first man. As we could not leave them to die slowly in that cold, bleak land, a poor return for the good service they had done for us, we sent Shahzad Mir on a stout pony with a carbine to go and shoot them. His journey was, however, unnecessary, for he found that both the ponies had already died.
Whenever a mule or pony lagged behind it was our custom to leave a man or two men with them, as well as clothing and food for both; but in nine cases out of ten this arrangement was a waste of labour, for if an animal is incapable of carrying a load any further, the most satisfactory and economical way is to shoot the poor brute, unless there is at one's disposal time to halt for three or four days by some good grass, giving it a chance of recovering some of its lost strength. Without being able to do this, an animal will be driven along for several days carrying no load, and at the same time, it must be remembered, he is being fed up with more than his full share of grain, which the other animals are carrying, in the hope that he will recover sufficiently to earn his keep. When once they have given in, and there is no chance of a halt whereby to recoup, it is false economy to drive them along any further. Yet we did this over and over again, to our own detriment, for one forms a great attachment for such patient and long-suffering animals as our mules and ponies proved themselves to be.
The district of Lanak La is a good shooting-ground for yak and antelope, and it would well repay a sportsman shooting in Ladakh to quietly pop over the frontier and enjoy his sport in secrecy.
A COLD NIGHT—DEATH OF MULE—A FRESH-WATER LAKE—BAD WEATHER—DEATH OF THE FAVOURITE WHITE PONY—BY A SALT LAKE—ILLNESS OF TOKHTA—I SEARCH FOR MISSING ANIMALS.
We left our camping ground at Lanak La on Sunday, the 31st May, and failing to find the sign of any track running northwards, we tried to make out by which route Bower had gone, but our only map was drawn to such a very small scale that we could decide on nothing with any certainty. Riding ahead on our ponies, we found our easiest way was to continue up the nullah we were in, which led over an easy pass, from the summit of which we looked back over the Lanak La.
In spite of our extensive views, we could discover no route running in any direction whatever, and having come so far, we decided to give up all searching for routes and to find a way for ourselves, marching due east as much as possible, and, failing that, north rather than south. Quite naturally, therefore, we descended the other side of the pass just the same as any one else would have done, and then we found a range of mountains north of us, and another range south of us, compelling us to take to a rather narrow nullah which eventually debouched in the early afternoon into a broad valley some miles across, running in an easterly direction, and bounded north and south by ranges of snow-tipped hills. Thus the actual finding of our way was notsuch a difficult undertaking as one might have expected. We could see the valley stretching far away to the east, and calculated that we had some days of clear sailing before us.
We trotted on ahead in search of grass and water to halt by. Straight in front of us, we noticed what we took to be snow in the middle of the valley, but the nearer we came to it the farther off it appeared to be, and we were most anxious to reach that snow, for otherwise we saw no chance of finding any water. We finally concluded that it was a hopeless job to try and get there; and as the sun was setting, and a short distance in front of us we saw some antelope, we knew there must be some grass close by and probably some water too. Such proved to be the case; there was a small stretch of very short growth with two little pools of rain-water, as good a camping ground as we could have expected to find that night.
A strong wind was blowing from the south-west, enough to cut us in two, and as the skies clouded over pretty quickly, we had no chance of taking any observations. I really felt inwardly thankful that the clouds had come up so thick, for it is no joke observing stars with twenty-five degrees of frost and a keen wind. Unless the clouds absolutely obscure the view and one slips in between the blankets without attempting observations, one's conscience feels a prick of guilt.
Our mules and ponies must have suffered from the cold that evening, and seemed to find but little amusement in nibbling at the short grass. Throughout the night we heard some of them becoming entangled in the guy ropes of our tent in their endeavours to find some small amount of shelter from the blast. And it was a marvellous thing how the tent managed to stand at all.
Despite these and other divers annoyances, we both fell off to sleep till daybreak, when all seemed clothed in perfect stillness—the whole atmosphere was calm. It was difficultat first to collect our thoughts and to remember where we were and what had befallen us. Why was it we could hear no sign of man or beast? Something unusual must surely have happened. In another moment we were up and outside the tent; the wind had completely died away, and everything and everywhere was covered with a fresh layer of snow. The men were silent in their tents, some of our mules lay without moving, others stood with drooping heads, and, on counting their number, we found that several were missing. It was not very long before we found one of these latter; there he lay stretched out close to our own tent, as dead as dead could be. We felt sad for the poor brute, for little had we thought whilst we had been abusing him for fiddling with our guy ropes, that he had been actually dying from cold or from some other painful cause. We turned away from the corpse, and tried to forget our own selfishness.
At this moment the sun was just appearing and omened a fine and warm day, arousing us to the fact that the snow would soon melt, and if that happened, we should have no small difficulty in tracking the animals that had strayed. We at once turned out our men and sent some of them off on our stoutest ponies to search for the deserters.
This morning's disastrous work undoubtedly laid the seeds of many more deaths to come. As to our own riding ponies, which had been ridden by the muleteers in the search, so much was taken out of them that we were only able to ride them for a very few more days, and ever afterwards were solely dependent upon our own feet. The five delinquents were eventually found about five miles back in the nullah we had come from the previous day, but they were in so exhausted a condition that one of them could scarcely drag itself along, let alone take a few pounds' weight of luggage, in fact, he never reached another camp.
Even at this early stage there was no use blinding ourselvesto the truth that there were a goodish number of the animals that could not possibly last out many more days. Had we been able to find good grass and water together, our best plan would have been to halt there for a few days; then, again, it must be remembered that during that period the men would be eating their rations all the same, and probably more, without making any onward progress at all.
It was almost noon before we were off, and by that time all the snow, excepting on the tops of the hills, had completely thawed, for the day was warm and pleasant. Again we fortunately had easy marching down the valley, and we went towards the patch of snow we had been so anxious to reach the previous day, but we never seemed to get there; the illusion was caused by vapour or steam rising up from the salt ground and hanging over it like a white sheet, and when we conjectured we were on the very spot, we could see nothing at all.
After fourteen miles we came to a fresh-water lake completely frozen over, having been seven hours over the march. Knowing how deceptive the distance is across such lakes at this great height, namely, just over 16,000 feet, we decided to halt where we were; besides, there was fairly good grass, and a bright moon for observations, but no water for the mules. The man, too, whom we had left behind to bring in the exhausted pony, had not turned up, and despite our discharging our guns pretty frequently, he never reached camp that night at all. In addition to all this, my own pony, which had made the march riderless, had some difficulty in struggling in. We here gave our beasts three bags of bhoussa, leaving us only thirteen more, and allowed them to graze till 8 o'clock the following morning. At that hour the sun had begun to thaw the lake, and on reaching the further side, after a most slippery walk, we found a small stream had just commenced to trickle, a great boon for our beasts.
That same evening, after marching over a stretch of undulating ground, with a certain amount of grass in some of the nullahs, frequented, too, by antelope and kyang, we came to a large salt-water lake. There was but poor grass around, but a stream of good fresh water. Ahead of us, on all sides of the lake, the land appeared absolutely barren and arid, possibly on the southern side there might have been a little hidden grass; but then, again, had we marched south, we did not know that we might not meet with another show of opposition, so stuck to our original plan of steering north when in doubt. We began at this early stage to recognise the superiority of the mules over the ponies, for three of the latter could only just crawl into camp at a late hour in a very weak condition.
Another snowstorm prevented us from making a fresh start before 11 o'clock, and as the snow had put a stop to the grazing, poor as it was, we prepared some bhoussa for our remaining thirty-five animals, yet only thirty-four came hurrying up for this much appreciated food. There stood the thirty-fifth, a few hundred yards off, gazing at the remainder, who had their noses hidden deep into the chopped straw. Poor brute! he could not reach the spot, his condition was so weak and impoverished; there he stood, resembling mostly a bag of bones, a grievous sight for us: for this was the very white pony who had been such a great friend of the black mule, and he had struggled hard for some days to keep up with the caravan. After he had been shot, we were glad to leave the spot to try and forget the sad event.
By reason of the late snowstorm, the going along the edge of the lake was heavy in the extreme, so much so that we lost a small black mule from exhaustion, the only advantage gained by this disaster being that fewer animals were left to eat up the grain. The land was barren and useless to a degree, with no chance of finding any freshwater or grass; the former difficulty was overcome by collecting some snow, and the latter by being extravagant with our bhoussa. The ground fell in terraces from the hills that rose up some distance from the lake, and was split up by several deep, narrow and harsh nullahs running into it; nor was there any sign of life, with the exception of an occasional startled hare.
Although there were twenty-four degrees of frost that night, yet at 6 o'clock in the morning we were eating our breakfast with comfort in the open, by the edge of the salt lake. There was not a single ripple on the dark blue water, whose colour was only rivalled by the magnificent sky, nor was there a sound excepting the murmurs that came from our own camp. Although enjoying this peaceful scene for a few minutes, we were all the time getting most anxious about our inability to find grass, as another few days of this kind of marching would have been most disastrous. As far as we could see, a barren salt land extended due east, and we were therefore very likely following a regular zone of salt country, and, to get clear of this belt, it was advisable to strike north.
At the eastern extremity of the lake, we found a nullah running in that direction. This we followed, a gradual ascent between two ranges to the top of an easy pass, where we found a very small stream and fairly good grass. It was freezing hard by the time our animals reached this spot, defeating us in our hopes of being able to water them properly. Three ponies and a mule failed to reach camp, and we grew more anxious than ever to hit off a suitable place for a day's halt.
It was a grand, hot morning as we commenced the descent of this pass, so much so that we were somewhat puzzled to know really what amount of clothes we ought to put on to suit the extraordinary variety in the temperature. As soon as we had come down a few hundred feet, we came to amore hospitable-looking country. Grass grew in some of the valleys, and water, too, was to be had, while a herd of antelope close by gave us an easy chance of knocking some of them over. Early in the afternoon we came to a stretch of fairly good grazing, and in the sandy nullah close at hand, a foot or so beneath the surface, flowed unlimited water. Antelope were plentiful and tame around this spot, and having fallen into such clover, we agreed to remain there over the following day.
During this necessary halt our time was by no means wasted. Men and animals had to be doctored up, the shoeing had to be seen to; there was mending, repairing, washing, sketching, mapping, and writing to be done; above all things, we began to overhaul our impedimenta to see if there were not a few articles we might dispense with. As it was, we had only been making some nine or ten miles a day, and even with this care we feared to think of or to count our losses. At this spot we left a yakdan, with some horse-shoes and a book or two inside. Whoever may happen to come this way will find something worth having. One of our muleteers, too, named Tokhta, was so ill that he could do no work; he had swollen to an abnormal size, more resembling a balloon than a human being.
Looking ahead of us, it seemed as though a range of mountains barred our road, and our only chance was to follow the sandy nullah from whence we had obtained the water. It was now covered with snow and ice owing to another storm during the night. On our left hand were some very heavy craggy-looking rocks, and through them was a very narrow gorge, only a few yards across, sorely tempting us to follow it through and see what would be disclosed on the further side. It almost invited one to enter and explore, but we feared marching too far north, and followed instead the nullah we were in, which eventually led to the summit of a pass. The way was steep and rocky, and the sun sopowerful that we slung our coats across our arms and loitered on the top for the breeze and the caravan. Snow lay there in heaps, a welcome quencher to our thirst. This was a stiff climb for our caravan, the height of the pass being nearly 17,000 feet. Having waited till they were nearly at the top, we began to descend again the other side.
Quite suddenly we seemed to be transplanted into a new zone, for a cutting snowstorm blew straight in our faces. We were almost frozen, and any portion of the head we exposed suffered severely. We looked for some overhanging rock that would serve for a shelter, but there the cold became so intense that we preferred to fight the elements and keep in motion. As soon as we had completed the descent we found a broad valley stretching east and west, apparently to eternity. We walked along this, for our ponies had become too weak for us ever to think of riding them again, and sought grass and water for making a halt by. Having found a fairly suitable spot, and waited for a considerable length of time, we were perplexed to hear no sign of the caravan. They would have to come thus far, for until they did they would find no fit place to camp in.
Darkness and cold came upon us, and we kept up an intermittent fusillade till eight o'clock, when a distant shout in reply revealed to us that they were at length coming. But alas! although some of the mules walked in fit and strong, others came in wretchedly weak, and, worst of all, six animals and three complete loads had been abandoned altogether.
This was a crushing bit of news, coming as it did just after our day's halt, when we had expected to make such good headway. The men, too, declared that these six animals had all died; but we suspected, from their demeanour and the way they spoke and behaved, that very likely some of them had been left behind in goodcondition for a reason, namely, that should any of the men take it into their heads to turn back, they would have the assistance of one or two stout animals to carry what they wanted. We knew they had been taking but little care of the transport, even in the proper adjustment of their loads.
In order to satisfy our suspicions, we arranged that Malcolm should remain in camp, or, better still, shift the camp a mile or so further on to a better spot, while I should take a man and go back in search of the mules and ponies that had been left behind. After a five-mile tramp, we came to a dead black pony, and another mile further on found a single mule grazing, to whom we gave some of the grain we had brought with us. In another nullah close by was a second dead pony and another mule, which must have very shortly died had we not hastened on his end with a revolver. The fifth, a grey mule, we found grazing, apparently enjoying himself. The sixth, a dun-coloured pony, we could discover nowhere. He was a useful pony, and had probably wandered a long way in search of good grass. We returned triumphant to camp with the grey and black mules, the latter especially doing good work afterwards for some weeks to come. Had one of us not gone back we must have lost the services of two strong mules, which would have been due solely to the men's laziness, and we could not help thinking that they, the dun pony, and the three loads of food, had been temporarily abandoned with the intention of helping some of the men on a return journey to Ladakh. My satisfaction was, however, marred on return to camp by the news that my own riding pony had succumbed in the night.
LAKE LIGHTEN—INTENSE HEAT—AN OLD FIREPLACE—SERIOUS ACCIDENT THROUGH OVER-HASTE OF MULES TO DRINK—A COUP D'ŒIL—THE FIRST FLOWER—OUR PET SHEEP—ANOTHER FRESH-WATER LAKE—A PLEASANT BATH—DEATH OF ANIMALS AND DEARTH OF GRAIN.
We were now reduced to twenty-eight animals, and we knew our muleteers to be so careless and untrustworthy a lot, that we resolved that henceforth one of us should always remain with them and the mules—never, in fact, let them out of our sight. This would ensure the animals being properly cared for, and would be a prevention against the muleteers forming any scheme for desertion. We decided, too, to make very easy marches. We continued to see snow mountains in all directions, and somehow or other managed to steer our way amongst them, either east or north-east, over valleys and plains or stony nullahs, but we were most unfortunate as to finding good grass. It must have been too early in the year, for in many places it was just beginning to sprout.
Owing to the heavy loss to our transport we could only march some four or five miles the next day, which brought us to a big fresh-water lake, completely frozen over, resembling a large white sheet. Here we resolved to lighten our loads, and left on the ground a number of cartridges, horse shoes, cooking utensils, clothes, candles, etc., besides giving the mules and ponies a feast of forty poundsof flour made into bread. Some old pistols, rather heavy ones, which we had brought with us as presents for natives, we allowed the men to carry themselves, on the condition that should we require them as presents we would buy them back from them, otherwise they might retain them for ever. Every one, too, carried a certain number of cartridges, the men doing so under the proviso that we would lend them a rifle when game was close to camp.