SPORT AND TRAVEL
\UI
QJotttBlI llntttcr0ttg ffiibtatg
i)tt)ara, Nem ^nrk
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
COLLECTION
CHINA AND THE CHINESE
THE GIFT OF
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
CLASS OF 1876
1918
DS 785 JsT^" ""'™'''"'' '■''■"'y
Sport & traver in both Tibets /
3 1924 023 493 665
M
XI
Cornell University
Library
The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924023493665
SPORT &: TRAVEL
IN BOTH TIBETS
By LADY JENKINS
WITH MAP AND TWENTY-FIVE
COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS EX-
ACTLY REPRODUCED FROM THE
AUTHORESS'S ORIGINAL SKETCHES
Printed and Published by
BLADES. EAST & BLADES. 23. ABCHURCH LANE, LONDON. E.C.
a
DEDICATED
TO MY FRIEND
MISS FRANCIS AUGERAND.
<
O
PREFACE.
[•T the request of many friends who are
interested either in Sport or Travel,
I have written the accompanying pages
from the notes in my diary kept during my
expedition in both Tibets. The illustrations are
reproduced from my own sketches made on the
spot, sometimes under great difficulties — in no
instance have I tried to present a finished picture,
but rather to faithfully portray the strange, wonderful
colourings and contours of this almost unknown
part of the world.
I am greatly indebted to Miss B. Pughe for the
picture of the curios, which I bought in Tibet,
also to the Geographical Society for the map on
which my route is marked, but most of all my thanks
are due to His Highness the Maharajah of Kashmir
for the facilities he gave me, and for his unvarying
courtesy and kindness.
The photogravure on the cover of the book
contains, besides the animals described, specimens of
Markhor, Ibex, and Barrasingh, which I shot on my
return journey from Leh, but which is not recorded
for fear of wearying my readers by taking them twice
over the dreary road between Leh and Bombay.
MINNA JENKINS.
ClLBRONNAU,
Nr. Cardigan,
October, igog.
DESCRIPTION OF TROPHIES SHOT
BY LADY JENKINS IN 1906.
Ovis Ammon
I
Tibetan Gazelle
I
Tibetan Antelope
4
Shapu - - -
3
BURHEL _ _ -
2,
Barrasingh
2
Ibex
2
Markhor -
2
•
LIST OF PLATES.
FACING
PAGE
I.
Srintagar - _ _ _ preface
II.
Fishing in the Wular River
3
III.
Over the Zogi-La
5
IV.
Ladaki Woman and Baby -
10
V.
LaMAYURU -----
14
VI.
Local Shikari - -
16
VII.
Leh _--__-
19
VIII.
Curios ------
22
IX.
MiROO -----
24
X.
Mani-Wall and Chortens -
27
XI.
NiBRA ------
32
XII.
BuRHEL {Ovis nahura) - - -
36
XIII.
Sabana (the Cook) - - -
39
XIV.
TUNDOOK - - _
43
XV.
Baggage Yaks
45
XVI.
Pangong Lake _ - _ _
52
XVII.
Phobrang (14,500 feet above sea level)
54
XVIII.
TooLOOMERBO (green river)
61
XIX.
Antelope Plain -
62
XX.
TuNDOOK II and Goatherd -
69
XXI.
Camp in Pangong Nullah -
73
XXII.
Crossing the Marsemik La-
7S
XXIII.
Snow Trout (14,500 ft. above sea level)
76
XXIV.
Starting for the Chang La
78
XXV.
Devils' Dance - - - -
87
CHAPTER I.
[HE guide books will tell you, with
bewildering references to works you
have never read and maps you do not
possess, the way from Bombay to Srinagar, They,
however, wisely omit any mention of the awful heat of
the two days' and nights' train journey to Rawal
Pindi, and in graphic descriptions of lovely scenery no
suggestion is made of the torture of the three days'
drive in a bumpy, springless tonga. But for those
persons foolish enough to contemplate leaving Srina-
gar, they are unanimous in advising a halt of several
days. A stay was, of course, necessary for me, as
arranging the outfit and stores for such a lengthy
journey takes time ; being the guest of His
Highness the Maharajah of Kashmir, and thanks
to his great kindness, everything was made easy,
and I was spared the many unnecessary delays which
2
most travellers in Kashmir have to learn to endure.
Nibra, the shikari, met me as arranged, and acting on
my firm belief that a good manager will always do
better if he has entire control, I explained to him what
I wanted and where we were to go. Also that he
could arrange everything in his own way, buy the
stores and equipment at the shops that gave him the
best commissions, etc., with the fortunate result that
after four days of ceaseless bargaining and fearful
battles with boatmen and camp servants, we started,
a cheery party, composed mainly of Nibra's relations
and friends.
I was amused to learn from Ramjhan (the servant
I brought with me from India) that Nibra is afraid
my hands are too small for rifles, and my feet for the
endless stony places we were to march over. He was,
however, reassured by Ramjhan, who told him won-
derful stories of my journey to Somaliland, and
magnified the five tigers I was lucky enough
to shoot in India into fifteen. It was not until
we had left Leh that Nibra confessed he never
expected the Ladysaheb, " looking like a town lady
and not a shikari, and being horribly weak and thin,
■*W"'
FISHINf; IN "I'HE WULAR RIVER
3
could be so strong and walk so well." Nibra is the
first person who is not at all shocked at my going
alone — he thinks it quite sensible, and assures me "he
will be there," and from that moment to the time of
my return, he was there ; never obtruding or fussing,
but when wanted, his helping hand or strong back
was ready, always a faithful and encouraging" guide, if
a somewhat silent one. And as the months went by
and I learnt the resources and quiet strength of his
character, I was first amazed and then delighted at
this grown-up child's views of life, cities, and
countries he had never seen. Oh ! fellow sportsmen
and explorers, beware of what you say and do in
foreign lands, for whole nations and countries are
judged by you, the first and possibly the only
example they may have of your countrymen.
The route from Srinagar to Leh is a wonder
way, and it is hard to realize that in the brief 242
miles you can pass through such different lands and
climates. I left Srinagar, as the sun was setting, in a
large doonga or house-boat, having wisely taken the
precaution to order the servants and baggage boats to
keep out of earshot ; and floating and rowing down
B 2
4
to the Wular Lake, one could almost imagine oneself
in or near Venice. Promises of baksheesh made the
relays of boatmen row well, and they landed us at
Gundubal in the early morning. Venice and romance
were soon forgotten in the truly Indian scene
of hopeless muddle and wrangling as the boats
were unloaded. The reason for the large stores of
rope which we had brought with us was obvious when
we saw the miserable inefficiency of the cord and
pieces of string brought with the ponies to fasten
their loads. Whilst I breakfasted under a lovely
chenar tree, Nibra took command, and fairly soon
everything was in order and the march begun ; the
ponies looked comically small and helpless under
their bulging, bulky loads.
India in its turn was left behind, and for the next
two days we rode through lovely pastures of sweet
grass and fields of grain and waving Indian corn — a
small Rhineland. The meadows were carpeted with
flowers — larkspur, meadowsweet, wonderful pink
mallows, wild roses, and festoons of the bridal
creeper. The mountains which rose on either side
sheer above us, were fringed and draped with firs and
•f
OVER THE ZOGI-LA.
pines, and the slopes below with great walnut trees and
whitey-green willows, harmonising well with the river,
which is an unusual blue-grey colour. Then we rode
along the banks of the rushing Scind River, winding
through deep, quiet woods that reminded me of the
Tyrol. As the valley mounted and the pine woods and
snows came into sight, I believed I was in a part of
Switzerland I had not yet seen. Then we climbed the
Zogi-La Pass, and there are no more comparisons.
You look down from its summit on one side into
the smiling, happy land of Kashmir, and on the
other, you get your first view of the extraordinary
land known as Western Tibet — here, I may say,
travelling in comfort ceases. We were unlucky
crossing the Pass, as owing to a very recent landslip,
the track was almost blocked, and one of the ponies
making a false step, fell over the edge and was
dashed to pieces.
Turning our backs on Kashmir, we descended
the Zogi-La. Some way down we were obliged to pass
a newly-fallen avalanche and to cross a log bridge
over what ought to have been a tiny stream. Instead,
however, owing to the displaced and melted snow, the
stream had become a roaring torrent, and it was quite
a nerve-shaking walk, crossing without even a handrail;
evidently a strong head is better than brains in this
country ! It was a wonderful sight to see most of the
laden ponies cross without a falter or slip — three poor
little fellows, however, could not be made to face the
bridge till their loads had been removed, and then
they walked trembling over, this delay, of course,
making us very late getting to camp.
The climatic conditions were now becoming
most trying, the cold being intense during the night
and early mornings.
As the sun rose over the great massive and
towering rocks, the heat became unbearable, being
accentuated when we passed through the deep valleys
and gorges, the loose stones reflecting the heat,
making the air hot and dry as in an oven ; the dust
was awful, my face and lips began to crack and
chap. I can almost hear you say: "Why did she not
take some cold cream with her?" I did, and used it all
in a very short time, and afterwards bought all there
was in Leh and used all that too. On looking back on
my journey and comparing the horrors of mountain
• 7
sickness, sleeplessness caused by the high altitude,
terrible cold and even hunger, taken all round, the
constant pain and discomfort of my cracked cheeks
and lips was the worst to bear. Of course, for men
it is better — they surround their faces with beards,
whiskers and moustaches, but I was cruelly glad to
see the lips of my coolies, guides and servants
getting gradually worse and worse, and to know
that I was not suffering alone ! The next few
days were spent riding endlessly up and down
the road to Maulbekh. The track is so narrow
that the pack ponies had to walk on the crumb-
ling edge with sometimes a sheer drop into
the river below. At first I tried very hard to
make the pony I was riding keep to the centre
of the path instead of the unsafe edge, but
gave it up when it was explained that the ponies
generally carry packs, and when so laden there
is only just room if they walk on the edge.
They get so accustomed to this that I noticed
some loose driven ponies walking carefully in the
same way.
Poor Ramjhan, who at first scorned a pony, after
8
a few days became so footsore and worn out that he
was obliged to ride, and the reason for his reluctance
was at once patent to everyone. There was only one
place, the saddle, where Ramjhan never seemed to
be ; it became the joke of the day, and the freshest
pony was always secretly reserved for him. I have
seen him travel for quite a long way hanging from the
pony's neck, round which he had clasped both
his feet and hands. I think Monsieur Chocolat, in
Paris, could learn a few new falls from him. But the
most comical part of all was to see him mounting. All
Ladaki and Tibetan saddles are the same — horrible
wooden affairs — rightly described by a well-known
traveller as " torture saddles." The gap between the
rough wooden ends is filled in with sheepskins
loosely thrown on. Ramjhan used to put one foot
in the stirrup and clutch wildly at the saddle, which
either turned round and left him lying on the ground
under the pony, or, he tore the sheepskins away
waving them over the pony's head ; this startles even
a pack pony, and Ramjhan, his foot entangled in the
stirrup, used to follow the pony on one leg till
someone could stop laughing enough to go to his
9
rescue. He gave up all these methods in time,
and ordered the coolies to lift him into the
saddle. They always deposited him on purpose,
either in front or behind the wooden peaks, and
his timid attempts to get into the saddle, so often
ending in disaster, caused the caravan endless
merriment.
We passed first through miles of utter desola-
tion, and saw enough stones with which to metal
the roads of the civilised world, then through great
granite rocks enough to build whole cities with, and
last, near Maulbekh, through sandstone mountains.
It was there, passing between the great figures carved
in rock, that I first realised we were in the Buddhists'
country. The few people we saw had the Mongolian
features and finely pencilled eyebrows, but not the
sallow skins, of the Chinese, their complexions being
more like the Northern Indians. Their wonderfully
bright red cheeks, quaint head-dresses and ornaments
of uncut turquoise add greatly to their picturesque-
ness, and they have the wide, brave, unblinking stare
which I have never seen in thickly populated
countries. The men wore pigtails and leather sabots
lO
with striped and coloured leg pieces lined with
sheepskins.
The marriage customs of Ladak are surprising
and terrible. Polyandry is the rule — one woman
being the wife of all the brothers of a family.
Amongst the richer people three brothers are sup-
posed to share a wife, and the younger brothers join
a monastery ; but amongst the poorer classes the
wife is the wife of any number of brothers.
All the children, however, are the children of
the eldest brother, and inherit the property at his
death, to the exclusion of the younger brothers.
There is no actual marriage ceremony. If there
are only two or three brothers in a family the
wife may choose another husband, who comes to live
in the house amicably with the others. In spite of
this, divorce is easily arranged. If the wife and
eldest brother do not agree, they separate, and she
may marry another family of brothers without con-
sulting the younger brothers of the first husband.
But after nine marriages the woman becomes a
widow ! I do not know what reason is given by the
learned to account for the great numbers of Lamas in
Plate IV.
LADAKI WOMAN AND BABY.
[ ]
Ladak, but to me it is perfectly obvious and simple —
the younger brothers no doubt flee from the happy
home ruled over by the eldest brother and invaded
by the temporary husbands.
The Lamas can have no sense of humour, as the
" gods " stuck up on the route are really very comic,
and I have come to the conclusion they must also be
very unselfish, for their monasteries are perched on
bare rocks, in most unpleasant places, where no one
else would think of living.
At Karbu there was a most welcome change from
the endless daily ride of about ii miles — this distance
may seem nothing to those whose idea of riding
means pleasant canters and gallops over lovely open
country, but here it is one unvarying stumbling walk,
always up or down hill, lasting from 6 a.m. to 6 or
7 p.m. every day. From Srinagar to Leh fresh ponies
can be hired about every lo to 14 miles, so we were
able to do double marches every day. One of the
villagers came to tell us that there were shapu {Ovis
vignei) on the hills, so the camp took a well-earned
rest. I was glad at last to handle my rifle — it
seemed such a long time since it had been packed up
12
at Bombay. We left very early — about 4 a.m. —
Nibra, the local shikari, the lunch coolie, and myself.
It must be explained that the lunch coolie's duties
are not merely to carry a packet of sandwiches ;
he carries the whole party's food for the day,
which was cumbersome, because it included a teapot
and kettle, also a feed for the pony I rode, as it is
impossible to rely on finding any grazing. He had
to stay with the pony during our absence and never
allow it to make a sound or movement if we were
near, and after we had stalked for hours and gone
miles, he had to miraculously appear. Need it be
said he was always in disgrace and covered with abuse,
as it is not possible for anything, except, perhaps, a
bird, to do what he was expected to do. I quite
realized this, and at once fell into the habit of saving
all my ill-temper for the poor tiffin coolie, who, later
on, repaid good for evil by saving my life.
The dawn was very beautiful as we climbed up
the hills. My poor pony, as we neared the summit,
became quite breathless, and so did I, when every now
and then, to ease him, I tried to walk. At last we
saw a herd of ewes, and while we were watching them
13
a snowstorm came on, with a horrible biting wind.
We lay down behind some rocks till about 4.30, when
the snow stopped and we saw three rams on the
opposite crags. They were, of course, out of range,
but the local man pointed out the way to approach
them. We rushed down the hill only to find that
they had moved on, and we had to retrace our steps,
climbing laboriously up again. The beating of my
heart quite frightened me, and I felt so stupid as I
literally gasped painfully for breath. At last we saw
them, but it became suddenly very dark, and we
were obliged to return to camp, which we reached at
9.45. I was too tired for dinner, and went to bed
and to sleep at once — soon, however, to awake,
shivering with cold, to find my hot water bottle
had not been screwed up, and that I was in a
pool of freezing water. After a great fuss I got to
sleep again, only to be awakened by one of the half
wild village dogs, who was eating the candle in my
Uttle lamp with noisy enjoyment. It seemed as if I
had never slept at all when we started next morning
on our march to Lamayuru, which we reached at
sunset. Whilst the camp was being arranged I
14
hastily made this sketch, but it falls terribly short
of what I intended. The setting sun turned the
sandstone rocks to a glowing pink, and the strange
fissures and chasms, bridged by houses, to beautiful
purple and mauve shadows, incredibly soft and tender.
The nest-hke buildings seemed almost to hang in the
air, and it needed the deep booming of the conch
shells calling the Lamas to evening prayer to remind
one that you were looking at the dwellings of men.
It was at Lamayuru, after a very long day up
and down the hills beyond the monastery, that I had
my first chance at the shapu. We again took a local
shikari, who was very amusing. About 6 a.m., when
we were half-way up a hill, we met a Lama driving
some donkeys and sheep, and soon after we came on
some new tracks of shapu and began stalking. The
Lama was requested and bribed with a small coin not
to shriek at his donkeys and sheep, but to drive them
in silence for some time until we were well over the
summit. He seemed very pleased with the bribe, but
his cries and shouts were even louder than before, so
the local shikari rushed after him with his big climbing
stick and chased him about half a mile down the hill.
JL.
15
where he stopped, the Lama still running from the
few well-directed stones that the shikari hurled after
him. It was a very comical scene.
With a pause for breakfast we went on climbing
steadily till we reached the summit at mid-day.
Here we halted, there being no necessity of going
anywhere else, as we could see what looked like the
whole world from where we stood — the hundreds
of ridges and summits of hills were like rolling
waves at our feet. It is easy to believe the
world is round from these great heights, as the
horizon becomes a perfect circle. On this mountain
there was no snow, although in some places it lay
thousands of feet below us. Sheltered in the
curves of the mountains were lovely mossy grass
places and some vivid blue gentians and a sort of
edelweiss. We rested there till about 3.30, carefully
watching the hills with our field glasses. We saw
several herds of shapu, but all on peaks that were
about a day or two's walk from where we stood ; but
at last, just as we were beginning to despair, our
guide showed us two rams grazing near, but far
below us, and going in the direction of the pony and
i6
tiffin coolie, who luckily were well out of sight behind
a lower hill. I have no words to properly describe
the mad rush down hill that followed — our plan being
to get on to the part of the hill where the shapu were,
and then to stalk them. Nibra and the local shikari
held me on either side as we ran down the precipitous
sides of the mountain. One of us was always falling,
and sometimes when we dislodged a large stone
or rock on the loose crumbling hillside, we all three
fell together.
There was a pause when we came to a dangerous
corner. Nibra went first to reconnoitre. Just
as I was preparing to follow, he reappeared, his
eyes nearly out of his head with excitement, and his
finger held up for silence. He whispered to me to
follow him and shoot at sight, as the shapu were
on some rocks across a nullah about 150 yards
away.
I crawled round the rock and there they
were! Nibra had loaded my 375°, and in a sitting
position I aimed ; unfortunately, resting my left
hand on my knee, just as I fired, the ground gave
way, my foot slipped and, of course, I missed him ;
l.Ml>u.iJi^*i^
kSEJ^
Plate VI.
LOCAL SHIKARL
17
but they stood quite still, and I had a lovely shot
with my second barrel and knocked one over.
Nibra passed me my second rifle, and I was lucky
in getting the other one, who kept stopping to
look back at his dead companion. Nibra and the
shikari were visibly pleased. No one who has
not experienced the long, trying and tiring stalks
can realize the delight of success, and I was more
than glad, for so much depends on the shikari's
opinion of your shooting, as if they consider you
a bad or unlucky shot, they will not give you nearly
as many chances, or take the great and untiring
pains they do, for one they trust not to disappoint
them by a miss at the end of a long, perhaps
cleverly-arranged stalk.
The heads measured 31 and 27^ inches. The
31 inches is the largest shot here for very many
years, so my shooting good luck is following me.
CHAPTER 11.
"■T is no longer a surprise to me that
so few people see Ladak. After the
Zogi-La, the way is one long horror
of dust, scorching sun and landslips, and to anyone
with a bad head for heights, or a weak heart, the
road would be impossible. Just before entering
Leh there is a trying five miles through burning
sand up to the town, away from the River Indus,
which for the last few days had seemed like an old
friend, the track having apparently been designed to
show how often it was possible to leave and rejoin it.
We met two Englishmen who had been shooting
beyond Leh, and when they heard that I intended
to go beyond Changchenmo they were horrified, and
begged me to look at their cracked and swollen
faces. They assured me it was a country fit only
for suicides.
^«£>t:
->-;> -^
.^■'
H ,
. ^9
As we approached Leh the glamovir of the set-
ting sun was over the old fortifications and the
ten-storied palace of the Gialpo on the rocky ridge,
which forms one end of the town. We wended our
way down the steps under the gateway and up the
main street, which contained a beautiful line of
poplars on one side, just then shedding little balls
of cotton wool which made them look as if they
were standing each in a separate snowstorm.
The telegraph master met me near the rest-house
with a sheaf of messages re-directed from Kashmir. I
shall always remember his kindness and sympathy,
when, after spending two endless days waiting at
his instrument, he at last, in the middle of the night,
brought me the reassuring news I was so anxiously
awaiting. It was only then that I realized how
far I was out of the world and that it would
take less time to get from London than from
Leh to Bombay, However, as Leh was to be the
starting point, not the end of my journey, I did
not allow my mind to dwell on getting back, but
spent two more very busy days arranging stores,
transport and in re-packing my own belongings and
c 2
20
leaving behind all the comforts and luxuries I had
brought with me for the expedition.
In luxurious shooting parties in India the
baggage question never arises, but my experience
in Somaliland had taught me the only secret of
success was to travel light, and to realize at the
start that it is possible to do without everything
except food, clothing and ammunition. When I
had sorted my possessions, Nibra asked to inspect
my luggage. He collected several of my garments
and said they must be lined with fur, and went
off to the bazaar to order it to be done. When
I went out some time after to complete a lengthy
bargain, begun two days before, for some turquoise
ornaments, perhaps my amazement can be imagined
when I found most of the town collected, trying
to cut out the fur to match my clothes, which
were neatly stretched out on the sand of the High
Street of Leh ; advice was being given by a warlike
Yarkandi who had just arrived with his caravan ! I
fled from the scene and visited the Moravian Mission,
a set of brave men and devoted women living in exile
and hardship at an altitude where strong men find
21
difficulty in sleeping, and breathing when lying down,
and little children fade and die, and where their
sacrifices and hopes meet with little or no reward.
Converts are rare, and the Mission help of healing
and medicine is accepted with distrust and scant
thanks ; these brave men and their no less brave
wives live indeed to the glory of God and the utter
forgetfulness of themselves.
In Ladak, out of 20,000 inhabitants — all Budd-
hists — 4,000 are Lamas and Chelas (disciples), so that
with a Lama to every five laymen, missionaries have
very little chance ! ! The Ladaki Buddhists are devil
worshippers and intensely ignorant, superstitious
and uncivilized, but very inquisitive and easily
amused, and cheerfully choose a life in which cease-
less wandering under heavy loads belonging to others,
seems to be the principal part. In religious matters
they are governed by the Dalai Lama from Potala,
near Lhassa.
There is one never-ending joke — "ju-ju," pro-
nounced " jew-jew," meaning "salaam," or "good-day,"
but the oftener you say it and the more rapidly you
repeat it, the more the Ladakis and Tibetans grin
22
and bow and laugh. At first I thought them idiotic,
but at last found myself laughing quite naturally, as
if it were a splendid bonmot.
The Mission house had a wonderful little garden
with carrots, turnips, cucumbers, and even a few
flowers, and I gratefully accepted the generous supply
given me. They have also a collection of ornaments,
teapots and curios which have been bought by them
at intervals. I purchased some articles of interest
which were placed in charge of the telegraph
master until my return, as by then the Mission will
be closed and the missionaries and joint commissioner
will have left, as no Europeans venture to stay in Leh
for the winter.
I have pleasant memories of a dinner with
the joint commissioner, and owe him and the Wazir
great thanks for all their kindness in helping to
arrange my caravan and stores.
Mr. Apcar, of Calcutta, was also there, from
Baltistan, where he had been shooting, and very
kindly delayed his return to Kashmir in order to go
with me for a few marches. As soon as I received
further satisfactory wires from Bombay we left, and
23
after safely crossing the Marsahing La, I parted from
Mr. Apcar, who after four days vainly spent in
imploring me not to be so foolish as to go on,
reluctantly left me to my fate.
I suffered in Leh, which is only 1 1,500 feet, from
sleeplessness and headache, but up here on the Rupshu
Tablelands, 15,000 feet above the sea level, with
peaks rising all round of 2,000 to 5,000 feet, I felt the
horrible sensations known as mountain-sickness :
terrible headache, and after every 20 minutes or half-
hour's sleep a dreadful awakening, as struggling
into an upright position imagining that you will die
gasping for breath if remaining lying down. This
is, of course, a foolish question of nerve which can
soon be overcome, but worst of all was the horrible
feeling of depression and collapse from which all
travellers in Chinese Turkestan suffer at times.
There was always a high wind blowing ; the air
was sharp and clear and very dry, the snow line is
20,000 feet, and the water freezes every night in
summer. Near the little village of Miroo with the
turquoise and sandstone hills a meagre field of carefully
irrigated barley was ripening. We arrived at a very
24
exciting moment when the owners of the field were
hurling huge stones at two other men, who were busy
throwing stones back with a great flow of words, and,
mercifully, bad aim. The battle ceased on our arrival,
and they all assisted at pitching our camp, their
enmity forgotten in wonder at the first sight of a
she sea- devil, i.e., English lady.
It is wonderful that barley and grain should
ripen at over 15,000 feet. The irrigation of the
fields is sometimes most intricate. There are, of
course, no pipes, and it is quite exciting to see the
way the water is allowed to rush down a little open
mud drain with a miniature dam at the end which
causes it to rush up another little drain and thus
reach a higher level, with many little channels down
which the water flows, irrigating the high field, and if
there is a drop of precious water too much it flows
back to the main supply.
After my evening meal, as I was going to bed,
the whole village came to my tent to ask me to settle
the dispute we had witnessed in the barley field. No
one could understand what the quarrel was about,
but after many delays and questionings, I decided in
-<1 ? 1
sm»^a^
^
- "T-jr
^i^
.^ffiSfli^
.Al*H«M^
Plate IX,
MIROO,
25
favour of both sides, and amidst great ju-ju-ing and
tea drinking, all ended happily. These tea parties
are very terrible, as instead of sugar and milk a piece
of rancid butter and a pinch of suttoo (a sort of flour)
are put into the wooden cup ; it is then stirred with
the finger — your own if you are quick enough and
brave enough to put it into the boiling tea — otherwise,
it is politely done for you by the never-yet-has-been-
washed finger of the man squatting next you. It
must then be drunk and the cup licked clean before
putting it into the breast of your sheepskin coat.
Next morning we were seen oiF by the villagers
with good wishes and presents of two old hens and
three eggs. It was nice to feel that, except for
the champas who live in tents made of yak and sheep-
skins, we should see no more people; we were
actually in the land of the Ovis ammon, and might
any day or moment come on tracks of them.
Nibra was firm, and made us do another week's hard
marching before we began shooting. The way was
horrible — nothing but stones and small salt lakes.
We all suiFered from the want of fresh water. Later
in the day we came to the mani-walls and chortens
26
shown in the sketch, and I found our otherwise
cheerful, happy-go-lucky coolies cross. I could not
understand the reason until I recalled one of their
customs, which is to keep count of the number of
chortens, mani-walls and gompas passed ; therein I
had failed, but soon found a way to the hearts of
the Buddhist coolies. It was always to ride or walk,
leaving the prayer-wall on your right hand. The
observance of this sacred custom, the guide tells me,
will be certain to help me to Heaven. To ensure
getting there, every good Buddhist must carve the
prayer " 6m mani padmi hum " on a stone and place
it on one of the built-up heaps of stones, and when-
ever he passes, these words must be often repeated
with constant bowings and salaamings. I give some
of the translations of "6m mani padmi hum": —
" Oh jewel of the lotus, oh 1 "
" Ah, the jewel is in the lotus."
" Om, the jewel in the lotus, hum."
so that although the words of the prayer are always
the same, perhaps the petitioner reads different
meanings into them. But they seemed to me to
be merely a meaningless formula.
1} A'
H «
u ?
a s
2 i.
27
I have pictured in the plate the little opening
in the chorten (tomb) on the right. The dead Lama
whose tomb it is, having been burnt, his ashes
are then collected and mixed with clay, which is
worked either by hand or cast in a little mould
into a bas-relief of Buddha and placed in the opening.
I sent the caravan ahead, telling the cook, who
respected nobody but " Allah and his prophet
Mohammed," to remain with me, with some mis-
givings — the wretched cook having lost his courage
at the critical moment. I put my hand in the small
hole and found three little images of Buddha ; two
were very old, but one was distressingly new looking,
so I put it back — for the same absurd and undefined
reason, I suppose, that will allow people to walk
calmly over an old grave, who would not dream of
stepping on to a newly-made mound.
When I returned to Kashmir, I found that other
travellers had dared to take the little Buddhas, and
that someone had given them the name of " potted
Lamas."
CHAPTER III.
^E left the Lhassa route at the frontier
and turned up a narrow nullah, where
we pitched our tent near a lovely
running stream of fresh water. It was delightfral to
camp again after so much marching. We had only
two chickens left, so I allowed them to roost in my
tent, as the nights were very cold and they had
become so tame, feeding out of my hand, that I
gave orders to spare their lives.
We found Tundook, who had been sent on to
look for tracks of Ovis ammon, awaiting us with the
splendid news that Tibetan gazelle were on some
hills quite near.
The next day we made an early start in a snow-
storm, which suddenly cleared, and we found
ourselves in the middle of a herd of kiang (wild
horses). I think the man who so misnamed them
29
could never have seen a horse, and certainly never a
donkey, or he would have called them wild donkeys
in spite of their trot and gallop, which is more that
of a pony. They are very inquisitive, and actually
come towards anyone who will stand still, but never
near enough to allow of lassoing, and the champas
never even attempt what they consider the impossible
task of trapping or capturing one. Although T loved
to see them, I hated them before the day was
over, and was almost tempted to do as the shikaris
wished, and shoot one — they were constantly getting
between us and the gazelle we were stalking, and by
their restless and uneasy behaviour giving the alarm,
thus warning them of our approach.
So began a tremendous day, the longest stalk I
have ever done in any country, and when at last Nibra
persuaded me to try a long shot, as the bucks were
again making for the open plain where we could never
hope to get up to them, I horribly misjudged the
distance and missed with both barrels, and away they
went uninjured and not much frightened ! I measured
the distance to where I thought my bullets struck,
and found the gazelle had been much further than I
3°
imagined. This, I think, is owing to the intense
clearness of the air, and the sameness — nothing but
stones — of the country.
Very disgusted and tired, we had our mid-day
meal at 3.30, and on our way home came on the same
bucks. I had a long, impossible shot, and again my
bullet struck the ground short of them. I was
terribly disappointed at my bad shooting. The
gazelle is a very small beast, and perhaps I was foolish
to attempt such a long shot! Later I marked a spot
for a target and fired a few rounds till I found the
range. In future I intend to aim at everything over
100 yards as if it were twice as far ! It is those trying,
unsuccessful days that make the good days such
happy ones. On the way home I tried being a
Christian Scientist — shutting my eyes and imagining
a windless summer day with lovely green grass and
shady trees, beautiful soft chairs, and the scent of
flowers. Just as I was forgetting the tearing wind,
the awful glare, and my aching self, my pony
suddenly rolled over, and I found myself and the
pony sliding down a little precipice ! I shall not try
being a Christian Scientist again.
Several days were spent in tracking and stalking
Tibetan gazelle. We saw several herds of does
and one solitary buck, and again several bucks
together, but stalking on this wide plain with no
cover except stones is very difficult, and I could not
get a shot. Once, after a long and cleverly-arranged
detour, I came round the hill I had been making for,
to find myself in a beautiful position about 80 yards
from the gazelle, but they were all does. Later we met
some champas, who told us that they had seen three
Ovis ammon with lovely horns near here. Tundook
engaged one to show us the place, and after a short
night we left camp about 3.30 a.m. The snow lay
quite thick on the ground, but all disappeared as the
sun rose. After about two hours' ride we came to a
nullah, where we left the ponies, and there began a
wonderful climb up a steep valley with a tiny stream
all festooned with ice and crackling hoarfrost, which
seemed in the wonderful stillness to make an appalling
noise under our feet. Slowly we proceeded, panting
at each step, until we reached a great height, and at last,
round a rocky corner, we saw the three Ovis ammon
coming towards us. Nibra and I hid behind the ledge
32
and the others stole back. I wish I had words to
describe my feelings then, after all those weary weeks
of marching to be at last in sight of the animal I most
wished to shoot, and the horrid dread that I should
miss my chance ! But all feelings were negatived in
the attempt to steady myself on the ledge and not to
pufF and pant loudly as one is apt to do at great
altitudes and after severe climbs. Nibra loaded both
the rifles and I was ready ! I dared not move to get
out the field glasses, but made up my mind to aim
at the last animal, who seemed darker and bigger than
the other two. Suddenly, as they came on, the last
one lifted his head and took an uneasy look round ;
the others meanwhile altered their direction, still
coming towards us, going upwards. The one
I had intended to shoot turned slowly back ; the
other two were nearing the top, when, as they
stood outlined against the sky, I fired and hit
the leader, who sank to his knees. As he got
up I had another shot but missed him, he then
disappeared with the others over the summit. I
was then hauled, pushed, and dragged up that
awful precipice, until at last we came to the
Plaik XI.
NIKRA.
33
place where the Ovis ammon had fallen, evidently
badly wounded, and on looking over the ledge to our
horror found that we were not yet at the top of this
terrible mountain, but only on another ridge with a
small glacier at our feet, dividing us from the actual
rocky summit. The wounded animal was nowhere
to be seen, being hidden from view by the rocks,
which rose gaunt and bare out of the snow, on
which we could track him by the bloodstains, which
became more and more frequent. I sank down,
absolutely done, and feeling very ill, my heart thump-
ing, and a bursting feeling in my nose and ears; even
the Tibetan guide sat down and drew in his breath
with a whistling noise, while Nibra lay down panting
and sick. We had forgotten everything in our
mad rush, hoping to get another shot if necessary.
After a while we recovered a little, but I felt
too ill to go on, so Nibra, rather frightened,
decided to stay with me. I sent the guide and
coolie on, the former insisting on taking one of my
rifles, although they both acknowledged they
could not shoot ! After they had gone, Nibra
unpacked some cold curry and rice (we could not
34
make a fire, as we had not brought any fuel), and
after eating I felt much better, and then it suddenly
dawned on us that we had been riding and climbing
since 3.30 a.m. until mid-day, and that we must be
faint for want of food, as well as exhausted with
climbing.
We lost sight of the coolie and guide, but pre-
sently Nibra noticed some vultures and ravens circling
round the rocks, and pointing them out, solemnly
salaamed, congratulating me on getting my first Ovis
ammon. He assured me that not only must the
Ovis ammon be dead, or the vultures would not be
there, but that our men must be there too, to prevent
the birds settling on their prey. I felt much better,
and was most anxious to go on, but Nibra said that if
I did so we should never find my pony, and I could
not possibly walk all the way to camp, so I very
reluctantly began the long descent to where we had
left the pony by the little stream in the morning;
here we found him, and I rode back to camp.
I have always held that no sportsman should
leave a wounded animal, but circumstances, and
these terrible altitudes, were too strong for me,
35
and I was most unhappy till the men came in
with the head — quite a beauty! We measured
it at once, 413^ inches by 17]^ inches round. That
night I had a delicious dinner of mutton broth and
chicken, and went tired-out, but very happy, to bed,
and slept till mid- day. As soon as I had dressed I
went to superintend the packing of the much-prized
trophy ; it was very neatly sewn up in a portion of
the skin of its own body, the head and neck were
not ready to pack for some days, as they had to
be carefully stretched and dried. I had long before
lost count of the days of the week, but having
written my diary most carefully every day, I knew
the date until the end of August, then, having no
calendar and never having been able to remember
the rhyme which begins "Thirty days hath," I could
not fix an exact date for the Ovis ammon, but after
my return to Bombay on the 15th December I
found the memorable day had been the ist
September.
D 2
CHAPTER IV.
|»NOW was everywhere, and the cold was
intense as we started next day at 6 a.m.
After about two hours' wandering, we
sighted some burhel (Ovis nahura) and after stalking
up and down precipices of crumbling shale till
I felt ready to sit down and weep tears of utter
weariness, we suddenly saw a herd just under
us ; they must have crossed a lower ridge, whilst we
climbed straight up. A cautious crawl brought me
to a ledge of rock, where I had a steady, easy shot,
picking out the male, who was quietly grazing with
his females. He fell over and rolled down the
hill, whilst the herd disappeared as if by magic.
After a painful and difficult descent, we came
down to him, but his horns measured only 22 inches.
Nibra would not hear of my taking the head, as he
'SO^"'
■■^
Plate XII.
BURHEL iJJvh nakura).
37
was determined — I think almost as much for his own
honour and glory as mine — that my bag should not
contain a single bad specimen, and he was sure I should
shoot others. I suppose it was being so fearfully
tired made me feel that I should never even see
another, but as I had put myself in Nibra's hands to
do the best he could for me, I contented myself with
ordering the burhel to be left where he was, so that I
could at least make a sketch of him as well as have
his meat for the camp.
The illustration will show some of the difficulties
of stalking on these awful hills ; every slow step one
takes dislodges the stones and loose shale, making
a tremendous noise as they roll down sometimes
thousands of feet, bumping and bounding and loosen-
ing other stones in their descent. If you attempt
to go fast you generally fall, which is not only
painful and annoying, but with a loaded rifle in
your hand is dangerous; and although we were
dressed in sheepskins, matching the colour of the
ground, we were conscious of standing out more
clearly from the background than the animals them-
selves. If it were not that they make as much
38
noise as we do when moving, there would be no
possibility of ever getting near them.
There were a great many marmots — dear little
furry beasts — all about this country, but they always
escaped into their holes before I could get a shot.
The return to camp was rather trying, as instead
of going back on our own tracks, we tried what we
thought would be a more direct way, and it was
only when we had gone too far to turn back that we
found ourselves obliged to climb down several
thousand feet, before we began the long ascent to
our camp. I remember thinking that if ever I
returned to civilization I should never even pretend to
be tired !
The little pony was fagged too, and as we were
zig-zagging up a very steep hill he slipped and fell,
knocking down the two coolies who were carrying the
venison in his helpless roll down hill. Many of my
friends have laughed at me at different times for
wearing a skirt and riding on a side saddle, and
generally not looking more the part of a sports-
man ! but I was thankful that day that even in this
uninhabited country I had stuck to my attire, for as
Plate XIII.
SABANA (Thu Cook).
. ^9
the pony fell, the skirt for a moment caught in the
pommel of the saddle, and as I was on the precipice
side of the pony, saved me from certain death. The
check just gave me time to throw myself flat,
and the faithful tiffin coolie, who was about 50
feet below, was able to stop my helpless, headlong
roll into the abyss below. It took a long time
for the men to get down to the pony and bring up
the saddle, but I was glad to have more time to
recover, for I shook and trembled dreadfully, and
did not want the men to see how unnerved I was.
It was some days before I realized how magnificently
and completely I was bruised.
Nearing our camp the cook met us with profuse
apologies for the coming meal of Ovis ammon, which
he could not hope would be good. I told him not to
mind, as last night's dinner had been delicious, but
reminded him of his promise not to kill the two
wretched fowls — " But, Protector of the Poor," he
said, " as the poor ones died by no man's hand,
I thought the Ladysaheb would not mind, and so
prepared a proper meal! But alas! to-night this
ancient sheep, unspiced and with only one old potato
40
will not please, — thy humble one can do no
more." I can only hope that the fowls died of
cold !
Our store of potatoes was now exhausted; it
did not much matter, as after freezing every night
and thawing every day for weeks they were almost
uneatable. I no longer laughed at our enormous
supply of onions, which were soon to become our
only luxury.
Next day we started early, about 5.30 a.m., and
soon after leaving camp we saw five Ovis ammon
females, and immediately after came on new tracks
of Tibetan gazelle, or goa, as the Tibetans call
them. We had a long stalk for about an hour and a
half on the plain, mostly creeping behind stones and
rocks, to get near enough for a shot. After a long,
agonising crawl on my knees which would have been
painful without the bruises of the previous day,
with my rifle in my hand, I arrived at the ridge of
rocks I had been making for, and after carefully
removing my hat, peeped over, expecting a nice
easy shot, only to find them gone ! A long look
through the glasses at the surrounding country
134.
1 .J .ils-w=lieior.
Loud-OH'. Blades
41
showed no trace of them. I might have saved both
my knees and clothes — the latter had begun to look
pitiful. I only had two other outfits, and was
anxious that this one should last a little longer.
I was just shutting up the glasses, when I
saw, about 150 yards away, seven bucks coming
round a hill towards us. Nibra had by this time
walked up and gave me a frightful nudge (a gentle
nudge is the signal to shoot, but when excited
he almost knocks me over) as of course, he dare
not even whisper. I fired at the third one, which
seemed larger than the others, but missed him
with my first barrel, the shot fortunately going
high ; he then stopped a moment, and I knocked
him over with my second. I allowed Nibra
to have two shots with my other rifle, but of
course, he hit nothing. It is a strange thing
that these shikaris, whose lives are spent in
the pursuit of sport, have no idea of shooting, yet
their greatest pleasure seems to be firing off
rifles.
We had to make a detour of about a mile to get
to the dead gazelle, as there was an impassable
42
nullah between us. There is no doubt this is a
terrible country. At last we got to him, and on
measuring his horns, found them to be 12^ inches.
This is a very fair size for these little beasts, the
record being about 14 inches.
While the two men we had taken with us found
some dried burtza — a stick-like grass, something like
heather — and roots for a fire, Nibra skinned the
gazelle, and the Tibetans took a haunch, and
after warming it at the fire, proceeded to devour it
with fingers and teeth ; of course, there was not
sufficient fire to really cook the venison even if they
had waited, but Nibra said " This is nothing,
these ignorant ones do not mind eating raw flesh."
I was sorry I saw them, as it made me feel quite sick,
and the eating of my own meal difficult.
As we had been stalking in a circle, we were
fairly near our old camp and on the line of march to
the new one, so we waited for the caravan, which
through the glasses we could see approaching, and
marched with them. Until it became too monotonous
and wearisome, it was quite amusing to see every
baggage animal in turn lie down and roll on his
■ifpmnf^
Plate XIV.
TUNDOOK.
43
burden, bursting the ropes and unloading himself,
boxes flying open, and all our treasures strewn on
the ground.
Nibra and Tundook rode together all day.
Evidently there was a great discussion going on,
everyone being consulted in turn; and when one
unfortunate coolie under examination gave an answer
which was displeasing to Nibra or Tundook, he had
his head smacked and retired to drive his pony or
yak again, his square chocolate face, with the finely
pencilled eyebrows and smiling mouth, calm as if
nothing had happened. During the mid-day rest,
Nibra laid the result of the heated discussion before
me. Tundook said he spoke Hindoostani, but I
could not understand him, though fortunately Nibra
did, as he was our only interpreter, and without him we
could not communicate with the coolies. All our
plans were changed. News had come from some
charapas who had just arrived from grazing their
flocks on the plains around Changchenmo that many
antelope and yak had been seen there ; the champas
appeared to be relatives of Tundook. Tundook
was prepared to be our guide on two conditions ;
44
one — that the purse he wore slung on his back,
and which was then an empty ornament, should
be full of notes on his return, and the other, in
case either he or I did not return, his family
should be provided for. All this was agreed
to, so we pushed on over a difficult and little
used pass, which would bring us to the Pangong
Lake. At Phobrang we were to get ponies and
yaks for the expedition. If only we had known this
earlier we could have gone direct from Leh, and
saved ourselves about 14 days' hard marching. The
cook was to go as far as Phobrang, and I determined
to send my faithful Ramjhan back with him.
Tundook was a great organiser — I was always
trying to follow his apparently tireless though shamb-
ling steps. I have sketched his back, as it was the
view of him I knew best, with his pigtail and purse,
his teapot in his cummerbund, my rifle in his hand,
and the bit of blue rag in the fur cap he bought
from the Lamas " to match the eyes of the Ladysaheb
and to bring luck to the expedition ! " He sent on
two of our coolies to order ponies and yaks to meet
us at uninhabited, nameless places, commandeered
ji**'Y»j^^^
BAGGAGK VAKS.
45
from apparently nowhere by the magic words "double
pay." I could not help wondering if he intended me
to leave this un-named mountain ; but I liked and
trusted his face, and forgot to be anxious in my
desire to get all the trophies I could.
There was so much time for thought and reverie
on these long, lonely marches, that in imagination
I passed the not-yet-shot trophies through Rowland
Ward's hands, and allotted them places in the
dear old oak-panelled hall in Wales.
The whole caravan seemed excited. All yaks
are irritating, but when the one with the white tail,
who was far the most obstinate, laid down for the
second time, just as we were nearing the top of
the Kotzuru Pass, and rolled on the kettles and
cooking pots, he met with such a torrent of abuse
that I was quite thankful my knowledge of the
Tibetan or Ladaki languages was limited ! At last
we reached the summit, and I was lost in thought
as I gazed in wonder at the magnificent scene.
Facing us was a sheer descent, leading to a cup-like
valley, with snow-topped mountains on the opposite
side, a giant's leap from where we stood, and lower
46
still, stretches of emerald greens and sapphire blues,
the colours of a peacock's neck, with strips of white
that looked like snow, but which, when reached, we
found to be crystallized salt ; and stretching away to
the left, a sheet of water like a mirror, with the
mountains brightly reflected. The colours in Tibet
are more wonderful than in any part of the world I
have seen. A soft veil of exquisitely graduated rain-
bow tints seems to clothe the land, so that not
even Switzerland with its cruder colours can compare
with it. This is by day, but before sunrise and after
sunset the country strikes one almost with horror —
it is so bare, desolate and unbeautiful.
As soon as I saw there were wild geese on the
lake, I stopped the caravan in its noisy descent, but
I was too late, the geese took fright and flew oflf
down the lake. A caravan on the move makes a
great noise, and apart from the falling stones under
the men's and animals' feet, there are the cries
and shouts of the coolies, without which the
baggage animals seem unable to travel.
But when the yaks, goats, sheep and ponies were
freed from their burdens, and were hungrily grazing
47
on this lovely and unusual grass, I crept out with
my 303° (as my gun had been sent back to Leh with
the Ovis ammon and Tibetan gazelle's heads) to try
and get a goose, which would have been a welcome
change to our scanty larder ; but darkness came on,
and after two falls through what seemed firm salt, I
retired to my tent to repose soundly, as we were only
about 14,000 feet above the sea level, where one
can sleep much better than in higher altitudes.
CHAPTER V.
^^ ■;.«• ife-ir
^HE next few days were spent in endless
climbing up and down, crossing three
passes ; on one we met a caravan
returning to Lhassa, the mules, yaks, sheep and
goats, which they had brought from there laden
with cloth and brick tea, were now returning
with salt. The sheep and goats looked very
quaint with their saddlebags full of salt, each load
weighing 20 seers = about 40 lbs. We had a long
talk with the merchants, who, after they had recovered
from their amazement at finding a woman alone,
begged me to go and spend the winter at Lhassa.
They said I should be well taken care of, and all the
Tibetan ladies would be delighted to see me, and
lend me clothes, and that next year they would safely
bring me back to Leh. I shall always regret that I
49
did not accept their offer, but at the time I thought
it would be unfair to go off for another year without
being able to let anyone know my plans. We parted
with mutual regret, and I felt sure I should have
met with nothing but courtesy and kindness had
I trusted myself to their care. I persuaded them
to sell me a wonderful teapot, which, being huge and
a fearful weight, was sent to Leh. At Jongoe, a
lovely camping place with fresh water and grass,
we met a travelling Lama. I was very interested to
see one of these curious men — they have no home, no
monastery, and no teaching ; they just wander
aimlessly all their lives. This one took no interest
in us, beyond allowing us to feed him, and sharing
our fire, otherwise he seemed unaware of our presence,
and when our camp awoke in the morning he had
disappeared. This was supposed to be unlucky.
I could not join in the lamentations, and was
secretly glad that the half-witted-looking creature
had wandered away with his filthy rags and
depressing face, but it was a most unlucky day
which followed. First snow and rain had fallen in
the night, and we could not light a fire ; this meant
50
starting at dawn on a long march shivering with
cold, on a cup of half-frozen goat's milk and a damp
biscuit. The yaks were fearfully trying, constantly
lying down and delaying the march, so that we
arrived at the ford of the Indus rather late, but were
obliged to cross, as there was no place on that bank
flat enough for a camp. The ford was deeper than our
guide expected, and the little pony he was riding was
swept off his feet, and both had to swim for the
opposite shore. I crossed, lying flat on a yak's back,
with tall Nibra wading to his shoulders to lead him.
I was glad when we were all safely over. Everything
was soaking, including tents and bedding, and the
animals were so done, and being late, we decided to
camp, spending a most miserable night sitting by
the fire trying to rest without sleeping. All these
disasters were the wretched Lama's fault for leaving
us without a blessing !
Next day, when the tents and clothes were dried,
we did a short march to Maiya, where we were able
to hire a fresh supply of ponies and yaks, and after a
terrible waste of time and energy a bargain was con-
cluded, and I was the proud possessor for 80 rupees
51
of a good little grey pony, to whom I became quite
attached.
At last, after three more days' marching, we
arrived at Shushul, where we experienced great
difficulty in securing fresh ponies, as Dr. Sven Hedin
had just left on his wonderful journey, so eloquently
described in his book on Tibet, taking with him
every available pony and man.
The ugly little gompa (monastery) is in the middle
of the tiny village, and the Lamas were most polite in
showing me over their temple, which was like a badly-
arranged cowshed, with a frieze of brightly painted
pictures, which although the artists had never dreamt
of perspective, or heard of tone, yet had something
vivid and real about them. The large dolls which
are always seated in these temples were dressed in
dreadful rags, and the little brass vessels to receive
the offerings of milk, butter, suttoo, etc., looked as if
they were never cleaned; but amongst the brass
vessels used at the worship and ceremonies, there was
one wonderful bowl which I vainly tried to buy, but
although Shushul is eight miles from the frontier of
Chinese Tibet, the Lamas, with many regrets and
E 2
52
longing looks at the rupees I held in my hand, firmly
refused to sell, as they said they would get beaten
and punished if the bowl were missing when the Lama
from Lhassa came on his annual tour of inspection
and examination of the temple treasures.
After Shushul, there were some uninterest-
ing marches till we reached the Pangong Lake. As
long as we could hire and change ponies every few
days, I allowed my little grey to travel without a load
or a rider, so that he might be fit and strong later on.
The pony I rode on leaving Shushul surprised the
whole caravan by falling twice with me in one day ;
these miserable little narrow-chested ponies are, as a
rule, so wonderfully sure-footed. When we settled
down in camp that night, it was discovered the poor
little wretch was quite blind. I had no spaces for
more bruises, so he was turned into a pack pony.
Our camp was close to the Pangong Lake, but we
were too tired to do the two or three miles which
would have brought it in sight. Starting early next
morning we soon came to the lake, and I did not
then regret the delay of the previous night. The
wonderful and unexpected sight of the great water
llfr-
^
.^
¥.
53
lying folded in the mountains with the deep dreamy
shadows still hazy and untouched by the rising sun,
was a sight never to be forgotten. The ever-changing
views were so beautiful that I was sorry to think
that it took so few days to march the 45 miles to
the end. The waters are a hard, rich blue, so deep
in tone that I quite expected it to be coloured in
the little wooden teacup I used for holding my
painting water, but at mid-day the reflections of
the pale sandstone hills turned it to a shimmering
pink. One cannot help wondering why anything
so exquisite could not have been fresh water full of
edible fish, with cattle grazing on its shores and
the sound of wild fowl to break the oppressive
stillness. Instead of this, the water is salt, in many
places the shores are unsafe and shake and wobble
under you, making short cuts impossible. A few
miles after leaving the lake we turned a corner and
arrived at Phobrang, a most refreshing summer
village of four stone huts, with fresh running water
and a wonderful view of the snows.
CHAPTER VI.
^HOBRANG is 14,500 feet above the sea
level. We halted for two days making
the final preparations for our journey
into the uninhabitated, desolate land of Northern
Tibet. We started at last with a much diminished
caravan, consisting of ten ponies, four yaks, twelve
sheep, seven milch goats, and twenty -six men.
Ramjhan preferred to face the unknown perils to
remaining in this deserted land, and the cook said
"Women and children must have hot food," and
therefore he and the frying pan, literally hand in
hand, will accompany us, " and if we perish," he added,
" it will at least be better for the Ladysaheb to have
three respectable men with her," meaning himself,
Nibra and Ramjhan.
The inhabitants of Phobrang, about 14, including
two children, accompanied us part of the way to
< >
a °
5 1
ft '~
:,,f'
55
the foot of the Marsemik Pass, warning us to
return as soon as possible. They said we ought to be
returning then, not starting, as the snows were coming,
and even they would shortly be going down to the
lower valleys for the winter ; they, however, promised
to leave one man at least in charge of the baggage we
had stored in one of the stone huts; so after drinking
a final cup of tea with them, we started with their good
wishes and a charm consisting of a little round box
with a turquoise button containing a small Buddha
which was presented to me at the last moment by
the Lumbader of the village, who had worn it
attached by a dirty piece of string round his neck.
The Marsemik Pass is 1 8,500 feet above the sea
level, a long, gradual ascent, but with the last four
miles very difficult going, as there had just been a
landslip. Indeed, the whole country looked as if
earthquakes and landslips were trying to see which
could happen most frequently and look the worst,
and in a land of no tracks and few travellers there
is, of course, no one to tidy up.
We only marched about ten miles a day for the
next few days, as we wanted to husband the
56
strength of both ponies and men. This is an awful,
desolate land, filled with a rushing, tearing wind, like
some mad living thing unable to rest day or night,
and it is always pain. When snowing, it whirls and
lashes the flakes at you ; when fine, it raises whirl-
winds of dust and sand and beats them into your eyes
and mouth. A loose strand of hair was lashed across
my face so violently that it made a little cut on my
already chapped and painful cheeks. After that I did
my hair in the Tibetan fashion — a series of tiny, very
tight plaits over the forehead, not allowing a single
hair to escape ; I also manufactured out of an old pair
of gloves a sort of highwayman's mask, which I wore
whenever a storm came on ; but nothing that I can
say to anyone who has not been in the Changchenmo
Highlands can convey the agony of that wild wind.
Even in the valleys there is no shelter from it, nor
apparently in the sky,, where great masses of clouds
were generally flying and churning about, and
sometimes at sunset the sky looked like a gigantic
fire half hidden in immense volumes of smoke.
The coolies have great endurance^ and one
wonders if it is intense brutish ignorance or the fine
57
effect of their death-ignoring rehgion which makes
them march so fearlessly and pleasantly into the
unknown.
The boy in charge of the goats, although only
about ten years old, was marvellous. Half-starved
goats and sheep are very tiresome to drive, as they
will suddenly rush long distances up or down preci-
pices in pursuit of a few blades of grass, so that the
little fellow, rolled in his sheepskins, his fur cap
crammed over his dirty, grinning little face, after
being shown the direction of the day's march,
had to start before the rest of the camp. The
quaint calls and whistles with which he controlled
his refractory flock were the first sounds heard in the
morning. We often overtook and passed him about
mid-day — he then had to use all his strength of mind
and lungs to urge his wretched flock to keep us in
sight, consequently he was generally last in camp.
My admiration for this solitary, dignified child
was unbounded.
We marched on past Pomlung and Pamzal,
where a few willows were growing in the river bed,
and it was amusing to see how all, with one accord.
58
instantly went to cut themselves a stick. When
you march great distances without any chance
of getting a new stick they become most precious
possessions, and a few days later there was a great
quarrel over a stick between two coolies. The
Tibetans and Ladakis never use their fists, but
instantly a dispute begins they throw stones at each
other; for, if I have been able to describe the
country at all, you will have realized that, although
uninhabited, almost unexplored, treeless and barren,
still there are stones — and always stones.
We wandered on for some days, passing over
the Lanak La, 1 8,000 feet, until we came on tracks of
kiang and yak. In the Kashmir countries and Western
Tibet the shooting of yak is, of course, prohibited,
as His Highness is a good Hindoo, and yak, being
a sort of cattle, are held sacred. But once in Chinese
Tibet I vainly tried to get a good specimen.
The rifles were once more unpacked, and we
began tracking a solitary bull, which Tundook says is
a very big one. (I have noticed that the animals you
never get a chance of shooting, or the ones you miss
are always thought by the trackers to be records.)
59
We stalked him on and over and round every hill-top
in the country for long days. The third day, whilst
following the will-o'-the-wisp tracks of the yak, we
found a herd of Tibetan antelope, A snowstorm
came on, and under cover of it we managed to get
well up to them. How can I tell the wretchedness of
that afternoon ! It is always difficult to climb in
these high altitudes, because you become breathless so
soon ; but added to this you must please picture me
dressed in a heavy fur-lined skirt, a huge fur coat all
sodden with snow and sleet, afraid to lift my face out
of the protecting flaps of my fur cap because of the
biting, freezing wind and blinding snow, my hands so
numb with cold that I could hardly feel the
trigger of my rifle. However, the chance was there,
and I had to nerve myself to lift my head and take
aim. I was amazed at what I saw, the whole slope
seemed covered with antelope, I had two easy shots
and managed to kill two good ones, 17^ and 18^
inches. Whilst they were being skinned, complete
darkness came on, and very heavy snow, so we all
sheltered huddled together under a rock. As we have
no idea in the morning where we are going to camp at
6o
night, the caravan had orders to follow us every day, and
two coolies were told off to keep between us and the
caravan so that we should not lose each other ; but
having wandered up and down so many hill-tops that
day in the thick snow, we were lost for some hours,
but at last, when our miseries, hunger being not the
least of them, were almost unbearable, the advance
coolies found us, and after many mistakes and delays,
we found our camp. Sabana, the cook, had managed
to make enough fire to warm me some soup, and
after taking off my most sodden garments I crept into
bed about 6 p.m. But alas, Ramjhan, his poor
hands numb even in their fur gloves, dropped the cup
of priceless hot soup just between the flap of the
tent door and my eagerly outstretched hands. His
dismay and horror were almost comic enough to make
up for the calamity ; unfortunately the soup was
irreplaceable, as the tiny fire had gone out, so he
brought me as a poor substitute some cold venison
and still colder goat's milk.
The next two days, the snow having obliterated
all tracks of everything, we marched with the caravan
and saw neither bird nor beast, nor track of any sort.
-K^l
'£
I i
O z
O tj
J H
O ,^
O =^
6i
After the storm was over the snow soon disappeared,
but we had constant hail and sleet till we came to
Tobomorpa, and then, after a day of brilliant and
blazing sunshine, we reached Tooloomerbo (the green
river), where we dried our hair ; the coolies' pigtails
and long, straggling, dirty locks were shaken out to dry,
whilst, fascinated, they watched me in the exciting
pantomime of brush and comb. Besides our hair, we
were able to dry our sodden clothes, furs and gloves.
The air was fine and very cold, but the relief of the
warm day and dry clothes gave us all a refreshing
sleep.
Next day, a long march brought us to another
pass, and I was furiously angry with the guide when
he told me it was the Lungnak La, when I saw by
the compass we had been steadily going East ever
since we had left the Lanak La days before. I
must explain that the only map I had with me
ended at the Pangong Lake, and that I was indeed
travelling in the unknown. The guide was very
apologetic and seemed ashamed of himself, but per-
sisted that this new pass was the Lungnak La.
Suddenly a sweet smile spread over his face, as he
62
grasped the reason of my anger ; he then pronounced
the two similar names one after another, Lanak La
was pronounced Lunuk La, and the Lungnak La
was pronounced Lunuk La with a sort of swallow
instead of a ' g ' in the middle. He seemed to think
it very strange that I did not hear how totally
different they were ! The other side of the pass
brought us to the border of the antelope plain.
The effect of this endless, stony, featureless plain
with its tiny glaciers and its fringe of sugar-loaf snow
hills was most curious and desolate — I could not
imagine anything more lonely. The African and
Somali deserts have their scrub and oases and even
their rows of bleaching bones, but here there was
nothing. We marched down one of the valleys on
the cast of the plateau, and by degrees came to less
precipitous country with some grazing, where we met
some armed nomads. They appeared pleased to see
us, but their pleasure could have been nothing to
mine, for we were beginning to think we should never
see any living thing again. I was hesitatingly asked
if I would object to showing them the curious and
miraculous needles which fastened my hair. They
w
o
63
were most interested, and gratefully accepted far more
than I could spare, but after this exhibition they
could no longer doubt my being a woman.
They were very anxious we should go with them to
the lower valleys and march from there to either Pekin
or Lhassa, as they assured us we would be in very great
danger if we tried to get back over the Marsemik La,
as unusually bad storms were about. They also pro-
mised me plenty of yak shooting if I went with them.
Unfortunately, they managed to thoroughly frighten
the men, and we were obliged to decide to turn back
at once. The few days we had spent with the
shepherds had been days of almost luxury, owing to
our being able to have quite large fires, big enough to
even heat water for washing.
Earlier in the year a herd of yak must have been
grazing in this valley, so the coolies were able to
collect fuel — travellers in Tibet being dependent on
the droppings of wild animals for their fuel. The
coolies looked upon me as rushing recklessly into the
jaws of death each time I had washing water sent to
my tent, as cleansing oneself is quite unknown and
unthought of amongst them. They have a curious and
64
wonderful way of dressing — whenever they have a new
garment (all their clothes are the same shape and
size) they wear it over the old ones until they drop
off in rags, but they never think of removing one
garment when they put a new one over it.
On our way back over the Lungnak Pass we
came on fresh tracks of yak, and so began another
long stalk of two days, which again ended in failure,
and I never even saw the bull I had stalked so
carefully.
Near Tobomorpa we pitched our camp. Heavy
snow came on, and here began the worst part
of our journey, as in that one dreadful night
we lost five sheep, two goats, and two ponies,
all frozen by the cold. The next day was so dark
that we were obliged to stay where we were, huddled
together, wet, cold and helpless. The loneliness
and misery might have been easier to bear if
I had had an English-speaking companion or a
book, but all luxuries had been abandoned long
before, and even if I had possessed a book it would
have been too dark to read it, my last candle-end
having been burnt more than a month before. The
65
days in Tibet are far more lonely than any night in
England and the nights in Tibet are indescribable; in
the crisp freezing air, the great peaks look like
sleeping giants sharply outlined against a blue-black
sky, and there is no sound at all to break the almost
overpowering grandeur of the great silence and
solitude.
The following night my tent fell down with a
crash under the weight of snow, fortunately only
hurting my arm, but I must have been a pitiful
object, trembling with cold, in the middle of the
night, waiting for the snow to be shaken off my tent
so that it could be erected again. This having
been accomplished, I was just dosing when Ramjhan
crept out from amongst the men and said he wished
to spend the rest of the night in my tent. I begged
him to return to the others, as he would be warmer
huddled up with them in their hole under the snow,
but with tears turning to icicles on his cheeks and
beard, he begged to be allowed to remain. After
questioning him I found the coolies thought we
were in a bad way, and that some had given up
all hope of ever getting back, and no doubt.
66
enjoying the terror they created, had explained with
gruesome details that if a relief party was organised
to search for us they could not even start till the
following May or June. I put Ramjhan's reason for
wishing to remain in my tent in his own words —
" When they come for us after many moons they will
find me sitting frozen dead by my lady, and they will
say : ' He was a good and faithful servant,' — I shall
receive much honour from the Saheblog."
I realized that this was not the time to indulge
in sentiment, and managed to get up a fairly hearty
laugh; at last, with some coaxing and kindly abuse,
he went back to the others.
Soon after, most terrifying groans and screams
disturbed me, and Nibra came to say that one of
the coolies was dying and I must give him medicine
at once. It was some time before my fur-gloved,
half-frozen fingers could unpack anything, and
the first bottle I found was an extra strong
mixture the dentist had given me to rub on ex-
ternally in case I should suffer from toothache. I
had been warned by other travellers of the terrific
pain the intense cold causes to any tooth stopped
67
with gold or metal. " Poison " was labelled all over
the bottle. The man's cries were awful and, in despair,
I sent Nibra back with instructions to apply the lotion
to the most painful part. He returned later and said
the man was much better, pointing out he had saved
a little of the precious stuff in case anyone else
got ill, as undoubtedly it was a magnificent cure,
but that the greedy man had drunk nearly all before
he could stop him !
I snatched the bottle from Nibra and found it
nearly empty. Regardless of everything, and feeling
like a murderess, I rushed to the coolies' little camp
and there found the man unconscious, but breathing.
I sat by his side half stunned with cold and fright,
expecting him to die in agony at any moment. After
what seemed to me like weeks, but I suppose was
barely an hour, he opened his eyes, smiled, and went
to sleep. In the morning he was well ! But for
several days I suffered torments, expecting him to drop
down dead at my feet and make me guilty of murder.
Instead, can you imagine the relief at finding
myself adored by the wretched man whose life had
undoubtedly been saved by the poison? For the
p 2
68
rest of the journey he was most devoted, and used
to watch me like an affectionate retriever dog. If
he had only known ! I had the remains of the
mixture analysed when I got back to Bombay and
found the coolie had drunk enough to kill three
men, so that the age of miracles is not past !
Plate XX.
TUKDOOK II AND ( ;0AT1-| ERI ).
CHAPTER VII.
I'T Lanak we began to suffer from want
of food — our sheep were all eaten, we
had no venison, as I had not been
able to shoot during the snowstorms, and the
two remaining goats were too precious to kill as
they still gave a little milk. One night, five of
the coolies disappeared, taking most of our supplies.
The future began to look hopeless ! Fortunately
their courage failed them, for they returned the
night of the following day, very shamefaced, and
with a much diminished supply of the stolen
suttoo. Although a fine morning, our start from
Lanak was delayed, as two baggage yaks and
a pony were missing. Cold and hunger in the
early morning do not tend to improve the temper,
and I was really angry when I sent for Tundook. I
asked him why the ponies and yaks were not ready
70
when he had distinctly told me the night before that
they were all safely tied up.
"That is true!"
"Why did you tell me they were ready last
night ? "
" I thought, Oh ! Protector of the Poor, it was
better you should enter your tent and rest."
" But were the ponies tied up last night ? "
"Certainly, I had told a man (pointing to his
ten year old son) to fetch them."
" Then they were not there ? "
" Oh, merciful one, all men of this country are
liars, excepting me — they were not there."
This so delayed the start that Nibra arranged
a short march, taking two of the deserting coolies
to guide us to the spot where they said they had
seen antelope the day before ; after a steep climb
we saw two buck, grazing on what looked like
gigantic and badly-shaped sponges, but which,
when we came nearer, we found to be patches of
yellow-brown moss. I had a long shot at one
and killed him, but was not quick enough to even
get a shot at the other, who disappeared at once.
71
I was very disappointed to find that the horns
only measured 19^ inches, as he was a fine
specimen. We took him back to camp, and at sight
of plenty of meat the scowls quickly faded from
the usually good-natured faces of the coolies.
When all the camp was feasting, I longed for
a meal for my poor little grey pony, who had become
a bag of bones in spite of extra feeds surreptitiously
given; in fact, the baggage animals were all starving,
and I could not bear to look at them.
Next day, while on the march, we saw some
antelopes, and I had a very long stalk after them,
ending in a great climb. Just as we were nearing the
peak, a hailstorm came on, the wind and hail being
so fierce and painful that we were obliged to lie down
under a ledge for shelter till the worst of the fury
was over. Wet and stiff with cold, we crawled
to the top, but they had vanished ! It was
there and at that moment that I made up my
mind if I ever managed to get back to England,
I would never go near Tibet again!
When at last we found the caravan I vainly
tried to mount a pony, but my right foot would not
72
move. When I explained this to Nibra and Sabana,
they rushed at me, and without a word of explana-
tion, tore off my fur boot and four stockings, and
began rubbing my foot with snow ; for a long time
I felt nothing, but afterwards the agonizing tingling
and burning seemed ridiculously and needlessly pain-
ful. They explained that it was slight frostbite. If
that was slight, I trembled to think what the real
thing must be. My foot was very painful for about
a fortnight, especially in the hot mid-day sun.
At Lanak we struck our old route, and, pushing
on as fast as we could with our weakened men and
ponies, reached Kyam with its welcome fresh water
and grazing. As the poor goats could give no more
milk, one was killed and eaten. Our little shepherd
had great difficulty in leading and dragging the lonely
survivor of his flock to the Pangong nullah, where, as
I had not been able to shoot anything for some days,
it also found a resting place in the cooking pot.
The relief from the intense cold and fearful wind
in this valley was plain to read on all our faces ; and
the joy of lying stretched out in your valise bed
cannot be realized until you have been so cold for
1Z
weeks that the only way to dose (one cannot
call it sleep) is to lie as nearly as you can in a
ball. Down in this sheltered river bed, we were
still higher than the summit of Mont Blanc. All
were anxious to get safely over the Marsemik La,
as our food was running short ; but as the Phobrang
coolies assured us they knew the valley well, and
could lead us to the exact spot where burhel were
always to be found, we decided to risk another
two days and try for them.
Next day we left at dawn, and after a three hours'
climb came to the sheltered maidan they had pointed
out, but there were no burhel. Further on we found
some fresh foot tracks in the snow, and after a weary
chmb came suddenly in sight of seven rams lying on
the snow in the sunshine — I have marked the spot on
the picture with a cross. The position of my tent will
explain one of the most trying parts of shooting in
this country, namely, that nearly always before begin-
ning to climb you have a steep descent in order to
o-et on to the next mountain, which of course adds to
the climb on the other side. We managed to stalk
round a point and came fairly near the burhel with a
74
deep but narrow ravine dividing us. Although they
did not see us they became restless and began
wandering about. I had a good look through the
field glasses and picked out two close together.
Nibra loaded my rifles and I managed to shoot
both, but I am ashamed to say I used four bullets.
We had to go down a precipice to get on to their
part of the mountain, and although we could see them
quite close to us, lying in the snow, it was over an
hour before we could get them ; they measured
24 and 24^ inches. The glare on the snow was
torture to the eyes. In spite of a very hot sun, the
water in the water bottle was thick ice, but we
managed to make a fire and heat some tea, and I
enjoyed the warmth and sunshine until my foot
became almost unbearably painful, and I shall never
forget the horror of that endless hobble back to camp.
On the following day I could not walk at all, and
in order that I should ride all day, we had to sacrifice
some of our kit, which was already almost nil. We
wore every garment we possessed one on top of the
other Ladaki-wise; our stores were exhausted, and
we had nothing but our blankets, cooking pots,
0%
m^ — X— -~ — T '
Pl,AHi XX_1I.
CROSSINC; THK MARSKMIK LA.V
75
trophies, rifles, and two tents, so we regretfully
abandoned my tent, which was slightly bigger and
therefore heavier than the shikari's, and so at last,
weary and almost worn out, we came to the
Marsemik La, and camped near the top on very
thick snow.
Next day we spent 1 1 hours doing 13 miles !
Two poor pack animals succumbed on the pass, and
whilst their loads were being readjusted I did this
picture; Sabana and Tundook in front, Ramjhan
with the red muffler on his head, and my little grey
pony looking very wretched under his sheepskin and
saddle, and more like a greyhound than a pony.
Great weariness, chilblains, chapped faces, and
lips so sore that we had not dared to taste salt for a
long time, as it made them smart so dreadfully, were
all miseries we were well accustomed to ; but the pain
in our eyes in consequence of the last few days of
dazzling sunshine on the snow was a new trial and
almost seemed the last straw. But in the determina-
tion to get to Phobrang and safety, all else was
forgotten. The last ten miles is an easy descent,
but to us in our exhausted condition, it seemed
76
endless and impossible. At last we arrived, and were
all much refreshed by some boiling tea provided for
us by the two men who had remained at Phobrang
in charge of our kit, who, when they saw " the way
we walked," instead of coming to meet us "hastily
made hot the tea."
Next morning, after a long delicious sleep, I
awoke to find glorious sunshine, and my aching eyes
rested gratefully on the green patches which follow
the winding banks of Phobrang's little stream. The
surrounding mountains were now snow-topped, and the
stream frozen in several places. I was amazed to see
two fish surprisingly like trout dart under some
stones. I called Nibra, and as we were turning sadly
and hungrily away, Tundook came up and said rods
were not necessary, " any fool could grasp them."
One of the coolies was sent into the icy water, and
stooping over some large stones, soon tickled seven
beautiful trout. Sabana lighted a fire on the bank,
and with some of the new mutton fat and flour we
had bought from the two Phobrang coolies, prepared
the most delicious meal I have ever eaten. The trout
not only looked, but tasted as good as any that ever
Plate XXIII.
SNOW TROUT.
14,500 feet above sea level.)
11
came out of English or Scotch rivers. My menu
had been for the last 14 days : —
BREAKFAST.
Frozen milk, cold venison or cold mutton.
LUNCH.
Chinese brick tea, cold mutton or venison,
with one onion.
DINNER.
Clear mutton soup (with nothing in it).
Hot venison, or mutton, with hao onions.
So that perhaps you can realize how exquisite the
freshly caught and fried trout tasted eaten with some
chappattis, the first bread I had seen for a long time.
After a day's rest we marched to Tankse, passing
the end of the Pangong Lake, where we met Professor
Eric Zugmayer on his return from Kashgar and
Yarkand. Even the coolies must have been amused
to watch two complete strangers rush up to each other
and joyously and repeatedly shake hands. Our
excitement and delight were mutual, as neither of us
had seen a white face or heard a word of any European
language for so long. We marched ten miles together
to Tseyaroo-tso, an absurdly small lake, bright blue
and absolutely round ; here we reluctantly parted, as
the Professor still had some observations to make.
78
We camped at Tankse, an inhabited ruin in a
ruined land ; the gompa (monastery) was the most
untidy building imaginable. It looked as if an
enormous quantity of stones had been brought to
build it, and only half the small ones had been used,
the others being left throughout the ages lying in
untidy heaps. We were able to hire fresh ponies, and
next day our march was all down- hill and ended in a
tiny village with some stunted but carefully irrigated
willows and poplars. I never imagined anything
would make me feel as those miserable apologies for
trees did. All at once the memory of the horrors
and dangers we had endured seemed to crowd over
me, and I was amazed to feel the tears in my eyes
as I looked at those wretched examples of the trees
and woods I love so well.
Having spent a long day coming down-
hill, it seemed preposterous that we should
have another pass to negotiate before we reached
Leh. The Chang La is a stiff pass, and we
found it in a dangerous state owing to the recent
heavy snow-fall. Half-way up, crossing from
one ridge to another, we passed over a col of
79
the mountain where the ground was finely sanded
just like the floor of a canary's cage! We
camped near a small lake at the foot of the glacier.
There was not much sleep for any of us that night,
the air being indescribably fine and intensely cold.
Starting before dawn, we had three hours' struggle
in an icy wind, helping the baggage ponies to slip and
slide and plough their way through the soft snow
lying on the glacier. We finally reached the summit,
18,300 feet above the sea level, and stood beside the
chorten, a heap of stones crowned with horns and
some dirty rags tied to a few stunted twigs, which
marked the top of the pass. Looking down
thousands of feet into the valley below, and across
the sky to the straight hne of snow-topped mountains
facing us, the miracle of the birth of a new day was
slowly unfolded to our view. We seemed to stand in
an icy shadow, as the sun touched one peak after
another with rosy light, turning all the world to pink
and gold. I do not know if it was the great wonder
and glory of that marvellous scene or that the tragic
end of the last of the milch goats had deprived me
of my customary cup of milk before starting that
8o
made me faint, and losing consciousness I thought 1
was slipping feet foremost miles into the purple
shadows below. It was a long time before the
frantic efforts of Nibra and Sabana, rubbing my
head and hands vigorously with snow combined
with some brandy that Ramjhan had carried in a
flask since the day we left Leh, brought my
thoughts back to the top of the pass. It is a
strange fact that although I often had to face
the thought of death and danger, the possibility
of illness had never crossed my mind ! After break-
fast, half-way down the pass, out of the shadow
and icy air of the glacier, I revived, and as we were
now in an inhabited land, we were able to hire fresh
ponies, and the rest of our marches passed unevent-
fully through irrigated valleys to Sakti, near the
Miug Nullah, where we hoped to get ibex, but the
local men reported nothing worth trying to shoot, so
passing the great Himis Monastery with its 800
monks, we camped at Tikzai. A Lama riding in
haste and in some state, passed us at the turn to the
Himis Monastery. We had a long conversation and
after exchanging some suttoo and tea I persuaded
8i
him to sell me his bridle and martingale, a fantastic
leather affair set with sweet-toned bells.
The Tikzai Monastery looked so picturesque in
the rising sun that, as it was on our line of march, we
halted an hour to see it. It was a long ride, the
last part being up endless uneven steps roughly hewn
in the sandstone. In the forecourt some of the frescoes
were quite Chinese and the painted wooden altar in
the great court was a wonderful blaze of colour.
The Lamas were very polite and showed me the
Great Lama's throne with immense pride. In this,
as in all the gompa temples, the sacred flower of the
lotus was prominent everywhere, either painted or
carved on ceilings, walls, idols, and even engraved on
the brass vessels used at the ceremonies. The
quaint hand-written manuscripts with their wooden
bindings filled a large room. The smell of the
universal filth of Tibet was very present in all the
monasteries, the heightening touch being given to
the dead smells by the living odour of the burning
rancid butter which is used instead of oil in the
little lamps burning before the altars.
There were two really beautiful conch shells
G
82
which I tried hard to purchase, but the Lamas were
firm and refused to sell at any price. I was glad that
I had been able to buy one from the travelling Lama
we met near Himis gompa. Mine (Plate VIII) was
very inferior to these, which were very large and
beautifully inlaid, the flag-shaped flaps of leather for
covering the musician's hand were studded with large
and good turquoise nails.
Presently, one of the enormous temple teapots
was brought in, some of the Lamas stood round
whilst the head Lama and his Chaplain, or A.D.C., or
Secretary, and I had tea together. They sat on the
floor and I on a little painted stool, which turned out
to be an altar ! Later I apologised for my ignorance,
and amidst great laughing and joking I was allowed
to buy the desecrated little altar, which also figures
on Plate VIII.
With much bowing and handshaking we left
the monastery, descended into the valley and rode
through tiny villages alive with the sound of singing.
The corn was all cut and everywhere women and
children were standing watching the oxen, yaks,
ponies and donkeys, promiscuously harnessed re-
gardless of size or breed, treading out the corn, their
endless turning being done to the monotonous
chanting of a Lama.
Most Lamas have either some business or
farming interests, so no doubt some of them
were singing to their own animals and blessing their
own corn, as no corn can be threshed without a
Lama to chant the blessings and praises of Buddha,
"the Lord and Giver of all." All Lamas must
therefore sing and chant, although to some the gift
of an ear for music has been mysteriously withheld.
After the great silence of the land we had left, even
their discordant notes were welcome, for it spoke of
safety and plenty and the life we had sometimes
given up hope of finding again.
Without a gun the sight of the large flocks of
pigeons which we were constantly meeting was most
tantalizing. There were also countless magpies, often
seven or eight together, and the old rhyme, with its
" safe back again," fitted in well with our sentiments :
One for sorrow,
Two for mirth ;
Three for a wedding,
Four for a birth ;
Five for old England,
Six for Spain,
Seven for old Ireland,
Eight safe back again.
84
and so after many adventures I once more rode
down the steps into Leh, feeling no longer a stranger,
but as an old friend returned.
I was the only European in Leh, and the Wazir
called to tell me he had arranged a polo match
and devil dance for the following day. After a
luxurious bath, and dressed in an entirely new outfit
chosen from the kit we had recovered from the
telegraph office, I felt quite respectable-looking
again, until I saw myself in the hand glass which had
been left in Leh by Nibra as an unnecessary luxury,
but I was not prepared for the horrible sight.
My face was a deep and brilliant red, green
tinting the whites of the eyes ! My lips and
cheeks were all cracked and chapped, as well as
sore and tender, and looked as awful as they felt.
The polo match next day was most interesting.
Ladak claims to be the original home of polo, and
almost every little village has its polo ground — a flat,
sandy place with the stones cleared and stacked in a
neat line which forms the boundary.
The polo ground of Leh is the high street
depicted on Plate VII.
85
Quite early the crowd began to collect and sit in
the unglazed windows.
I was taken up to a gaily decorated verandah,
the street was cleared, and a ragged army of polo
players rode up, thirteen on one side and eleven on
the other. They all wore sheepskins and long
woollen cloaks, and rode in high-peaked wooden
saddles gaily painted and lacquered. I asked the
Wazir to explain that as I did not know each man by
sight, I should be glad if one team would wear a
yellow muslin band provided from the muslin
decorating our verandah. They all smilingly agreed.
The captain of the other team then came up to say
his men were feeling very hurt, and might they
have muslin bands too. Whilst they were being
marked with blue, the Wazir announced that I
would present a silver cup to the winners.
The ball was thrown in and the game begun.
There were no goalposts, the ends of the street being
counted as goals. The jingling of the bells on the
ponies' bridles and reins made a great noise as the
rabble rode at each other, the long cloaks of the
players almost hiding the ponies as they circled about.
86
The short-handled clumsy sticks were more like golf
drivers than polo sticks, but in spite of all this there
was some brilliant play. The ball was hit several
times into shops which had forgotten to bar their
windows and broke the merchandise inside to the
delighted jeers and cheers of the crowd. There were
no chuckers, and the game seemed endless. When the
side with the blue bands had scored five goals to
the others' two I asked the Wazir when they would
stop, as the ponies must be exhausted.
" When your honour orders," was the astounding
reply.
If I had known this strange rule I should long
before have stopped play, in pity to the gallant
little ponies. The players were then ranged up to
receive the cup. As a matter of form I enquired
which side had won, both captains claimed the
victory, and in a moment polo sticks were raised and
a battle began ! Order was only restored when the
Wazir explained that it had been all a mistake about
the silver cup, and that I would give a present of
money to both victorious sides ! The polo sticks were
immediately lowered and broad smiles replaced the
scowls of an instant before. This little function over,
the street was again cleared, this time for the devil
dance. The devil dance is a religious ceremony, and
therefore the dancers are Lamas, who are gorgeously
dressed in embroidered robes and embroidered satin
coats, crowned with horrible horned masks. Their
absurd lungings and plungings are very monotonous
until they become frenzied with excitement and
dangerous to themselves. The drum beaters altered
their time to suit the dancers. Amongst the watching
crowd a lady pressed forward and allowed me to
sketch her back view, showing her perak (head dress)
and pig tail ending in the gaily coloured little tassels.
The perak she wore was of bright red cloth, studded
with unusually fine turquoises. The number, size
and quality of the jewels worn on the perak show at
a glance the wealth or poverty of the wearer.
We had first entered Leh in the setting sun,
and in the setting sun we left it on our long ride of
19 marches back to Srinagar : and the World.
THE END.
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11