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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
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TRANS-HIMALAYA
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
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MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
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THE MACMILLAN CO. OP^ CANADA. Ltd.
TORONTO
TRANS- HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES
IN TIBET
BY
SVEN HEDIN
WITH 156 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, WATER-
COLOUR SKETCHES, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR
AND 4 MAPS
VOLUME III
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1913
D 5 -7 ^^
^■3
COPYRIGHT
PREFACE
The publication of this third volume of Trans- Himalaya
fulfils a promise I made three years ago in the preface to
the first volume.
Then I proposed to describe also my recollections of
Japan, Korea, and Manchuria, and I intended to conclude
with an account of my journey home through Siberia.
But as soon as I began to look through my diaries and
see what I had written about the source of the Indus,
the highlands of western Tibet, and the Sutlej valley, I
perceived that the third volume would be as bulky as
the other two, and that no space could be spared for the
extreme East if the material were to be dealt with as fully
as it deserved. So now Japan, Korea, and Manchuria
are omitted. For why should I encroach on space already
scanty enough with accounts of countries visited annually
by innumerable tourists, when I could present to my
readers impressions of regions never before trodden by
the foot of a white man, or where, at any rate, I had not
a single rival ? Besides, I have depicted several scenes
in the great Orient in my book for young people, From
Pole to Pole.
In three chapters of the present volume I have given
a succinct historical review of all the journeys of ex-
ploration which have touched the margin of the central
chains of the Trans -Himalaya, and have shown how
immense was the area of this mountain system completely
unknown before my journey.
vi TRANS-HIMALAYA
Three other chapters contain I't^stunds of those journeys
which had the sacred lake of Manasarowar and the source
regions of the great Indian rivers for their goal. Herein
I demonstrate that before me no European, nor even an
Asiatic of note, had penetrated to the true sources of the
Indus and the Sutlej, and that the position of the source
of the Brahmaputra had never been determined, though it
might be guessed whereabouts the head -stream gushed
forth from the foot of the glaciers. A polemical tone was
unnecessary, for no allegations worthy of credit have ever
been made to the contrary. I let the facts speak for
themselves ; they are, as always, very eloquent.
I have avoided all wearisome citations in the popular
scientific chapters. I am treating the same questions fully
in the scientific work which will shortly be issued, and in
which all sources will be carefully indicated.
My thanks are due to Dr. Nils Ekholm for the calcu-
lation of absolute heights, to Professor Anders Hennig
of Lund for the identification of rock specimens, and to
Lieutenant C. J. Otto Kjellstrom for the general map.
The illustrations should be leniently criticized ; with
one or two exceptions they are from my own photographs
and sketches. Perhaps they will give the reader some
notion of the lonely country, the dizzy heights of the
Trans- Himalaya, and of my old friends, the amiable,
unassuming nomads.
SVEN HEDIN.
Stockholm, October igis.
PACE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
From the Source of the Indus through Unknown
Country ......
CHAPTER H
The Nomads of Yumba-matsen . . . .11
CHAPTER HI
Over the Indus again . . . . .19
CHAPTER IV
Over the Trans-Himalaya to Gartok . . . 29
CHAPTER V
To the Confluence of the Indus Arms . . . 39
CHAPTER VI
In Dark, Dank Cloister Walls .... 48
CHAPTER VII
The Last Days on the Indus . . . -57
vm
TRANS-HIMALAYA
CHAPTER VIII
In Ladak for thk Last Time
I'AGF,
66
CHAPTER IX
Thk Selipuk Monastery . . • • -75
CHAPTER X
The Models of Kvangyang . • • -97
CHAPTER XI
Over the Trans-Himalaya for the Last Time . . io6
CHAPTER XII
The Trans-Himalaya in Ancient Times and the Middle
Ages — The Catholic Missionaries . . . 114
CHAPTER XHI
The Jesuits — D'Anville — The First Englishmen — Ritter,
Humboldt, and Hue . . . . .132
CHAPTER XIV
The Trans- Himalaya from the Middle of the Nine-
teen ih Century up to the Present . . .146
CHAPTER XV
A CkiiiCAL Situaiion . . . . .166
CHAPTER XVI
To the CoNVENi OF " S T. Sow " . . • '77
CONTENTS ix
CHAPTER XVII
PAGE
Manasarowar in Ancient and Modern Times . . 189
CHAPTER XVIII
The First Englishmen at the Holy Lake . . 20S
CHAPTER XIX
The Latest Reports . . . . .223
CHAPTER XX
A Dizzy Passage of the Sutlej . . . .239
CHAPTER XXI
The Ravines of the Sutlej . . . .254
CHAPTER XXII
A Picturesque Monastery . . . . .265
CHAPTER XXIII
In the Sanctuary of the Mangnang Monastery . . 276
CHAPTER XXIV
His Excellency the Churl .... 285
CHAPTER XXV
The First Jesuit in Tibet . . . . .298
CHAPTER XXVI
Lamaism and Catholicism . . . . .310
TRANS-HIMALAYA
CHAPTER XXVII
PAGE
In the Labyrinth ok Tributaries .... 330
CHAPTER XXVIII
The Devil's Cauldron of the Ngari-'I'sangpo . . 340
CHAPTER XXIX
Down to the Sutlej . . . . -351
CHAPTER XXX
Farewell to Tibet ...... 360
CHAPTER XXXI
Between Sky and Water ..... 368
CHAPTER XXXII
A Learned Lama from Hungary .... 379
CHAPTER XXXIH
My .\mazonian Escort . . . • 397
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Last ....... 407
INDLX
415
ILLUSTRATIONS
Temple Vestibule in Tashi-lunpo
which guard the Entrance
1. Source of the Indus
2. A Mani Wall
3. Pema Tense, my Guide to the Source of the Indus and to
Yumba-matsen .
4. Snapshots in Camp .
5. Natives watching my Departure
6. Natives watching my Departure
7. A Nomad of Yumba-matsen
8. One of the Chiefs at Hlagar
9. A Mendicant Lama
10, II. Friendly Neighbours
12. My Tent .
13. Visitors in my Tent
14. My Tent being packed
15. Nomads on the March
16. Halt on a Pass
17. My Baggage Yaks .
18. Tibetan Guides
19. Camp in the Trans-Himalay,
20. A Riding Yak
2 1 . Baggage Yaks
22. Crossing a River
23. On the Way to Chushul
24. The Ladak Range south of the Indus
25. View North-westwards from the Indus Valley
Two of the Spirit-Kings
Fro7itispiece
6
10
16
16
18
22
24
24
26
28
30
32
32
34
34
36
38
Z^
40
40
XII
TRANS-HIMALAYA
26. Thakur Jai Chand (sitting), the English Agent in Gartok,
with some of his Servants
27. Camp at Gar-gunsa .
28. The Indus covered with Ice
29. Little Puppy keeps Guard .
30. The Village of Langmar
31. Demchok .
32. Robert's Trial Trip on the Indus
;i^. At the Confluence of the two Indus Arms
34. The Indus ^''alley at Tashi-gang
35. Tsake-la
36. Gar-gunsa Monastery
37. Chhorten near Tashi-gang
38. Tashi-gang Monastery
39. Camp in the Indus Valley .
40. In Gar-gunsa. My Servant Rabsang in the Foreground
41. Camp on the Indus
42. Camp in Demchok .
43. The Monastery Tashi-gang .
44. A Girl of Chushul .
45. Singing Beauties of Chushul
46. Dancing Girls of Chushul
47. On the Kongta-la .
48. The Village of Drugub
49. Chhortens in Drugub
50. Musicians at Drugulj
51. Merchants of Kashmir in Drugub
52. The Tesiidar
53. Merchants of Rudok in Drugub
54. My Faithful Servants
55. A Nomad's Tent
56. Transport of Sheep's Wool .
57. My Tent with the Awning .
58. On the Way to Selipuk Monastery
59. On the Way to Selipuk Monastery
ILLUSTRATIONS
60. The Chief Sonam Ngurbu (on the left), and one of his
Brothers. Wives and Servants behind
61. Sonam Ngurbu
62. Sonam Ngurbu's Brother
63. Soldiers of Sonam Ngurbu .
64. A Nepalese in Tokchen
65. An Old Man (Tibetan)
66. A Nomad .
67. Two of Sonam Ngurbu's Horsemen
6S. Soldiers of Sonam Ngurbu .
69. Sonam Ngurbu leaving Selipuk
70. Sonam Ngurbu's Departure from Selipuk
7 1 . The Inner Court of Selipuk
73. Entrance to the Selipuk Monastery
73. Abdul Kerim's large Tent .
74. Inquisitive Visitors .
75. On a Pass of the Trans-Himalaya
76. Mountain Landscape, South-western Tibet
77. A Tibetan Woman .
78. The Governor of Saka-dzong
79. The Summit of Kang-rinpoche
80. The Robber Chief, Kamba Tsenam
81. Lama with a Copper Trumpet ten feet Ion
82. Tibetan Hunter
83. Monks with Clarinet and Conch
84. Mendicant Lama
85. Lama with a Temple Drum
86. A Young Tibetan .
87. Inhabitants of Tokchen
88. A Lama in Chiu-gompa
89. Major Ryder
90. Yaks crossing the River
91. In the Upper Sutlej Valley
92. The Sutlej in a wild Ravine
93. 94. Awkward Places on the March
95. Kyung-lung-gompa and the Sutlej
Xlll
PAGE
82
84
84
86
88
88
88
90
92
94
94
96
96
102
102
1 10
120
12S
128
138
146
152
156
156
160
164
166
T 72
180
231
239
244
244
246
248
XIV
TRANS-HIMALAYA
96.
97-
98.
99.
:oi.
:o2.
;o4.
[05.
[06.
;o7.
08.
09.
1 o.
1 1.
12.
13-
14.
15-
16.
17,
19-
20.
21.
2 2
23-
24.
25-
26.
27.
28.
29.
The Sutlej Bridge near Kyung-lung
Cairn on steep Edge of the Sutlej Valley
The Eyes roam over immense Distances
On a Valley Bottom
View from Dongbo-gompa over the Sutlej Valley towards the
North-east
Laden V'aks on the March
Carrying Loads over the Sutlej Bridge near Daba
Through a Ravine to the Sutlej Valley
The Valley Floor near Daba
Lama Dwellings in Daba-gompa
Part of the Village of Daba
The Village of Daba
Terrace in Daba-gompa
Chhortens in Daba-gompa seen from above
The Village of Daba with the Monastery
In the Temple of Daba-gompa. To the left a Case with
the Holy Books
Wall of Daba-gompa
Chhortens at Daba
Ravine on the way to Totling
Daba ....
The Bridge of Totling
118. The Bridge of Totling
Valley of the Ngari-tsangpo
Gully near Natang
The Shangdse Valley
The Valley near the Rabgyeling Monastery
Rabgyeling-gompa .
Chhortens in Rabgyeling .
The Little Bridge over the Ngari-tsangpo
Ravine near Optil
The Devil's Cauldron of the Ngari-tsangpo
Bridge over the Tomlang-tsangpo .
Mountain Range on the Frontier of Tibet and India
ILLUSTRATIONS xv
l-AGE
130. Goats on the Lopchak Bridge . . . -356
131. On the Shipki-la . . . . . -356
132. The Caravan after safely crossing the Lopchak Bridge . 358
133. The Lopchak Bridge . . . . .362
134. The Sutlej Valley below Lopchak .... 362
135. A Typical Village on the Tibetan Frontier . . . 364
136. Goat Caravan at the Top of the Shipki-la . . , 366
137. Road in the Sutlej Valley ..... 366
138. Bridge over the Sutlej near Shipki . . . .368
139. Cable over the Sutlej near Poo .... 368
140. The Shipki-la . . . . . -37°
141. Wire Rope Bridge near Poo . . . .370
142. Deva Ram on his Way to us . . . .372
143. "I dangle between Heaven and the murderous Sutlej" . 374
144. Aerial Passage of the Sutlej .... 376
145. Gachen Lobsang Tarva ..... 386
146. Yangpur, the Oldest Man in Kanam . . .386
147. Ravine in the Sutlej Valley .... 390
148. View of the Sutlej Valley near Kanam . . . 390
149. Csoma's Cell ...... 394
150. Csoma's House in Kanam .... 394
151. View from Camp 478 . . . . . 400
152. Cable over the Sha River ..... 400
153. Gyengring, Station in the Sutlej Valley . . . 400
154. Himalayan Scenery , . . . .406
155. The Road in the Sutlej Ravine . . . .406
MAPS
Gaubil's Map of the Two Lakes and the Source of the Ganges . 206
Moorcroft's Map of Manasarowar and Rakas-tal . . .206
Anquetil du Perron's Map of Manasarowar and Rakas-tal . 206
Map of Western Tibet, by Lieutenant C. J. Otto Kjellstrom At end
CHAPTER I
FROM THE SOURCE OF THE INDUS THROUGH UNKNOWN
COUNTRY
At camp 236 my horses and mules crop the tender grass
that grows round the source of the Indus. The new-born
stream babbles noisily among the stones in its bed, and
I hear it in front of my tent like the roll of an organ in a
classical mass. Its song will swell out to crashing thunder
on the way through the Himalayas, but the melody is
always the same, and to the music of the Indus ripples the
Macedonians once defeated the peoples of the East (see
Vol. II. p. 213).
My tent is anchored by its iron pegs in ground on
which no European has set his foot. I am proud of being
the first to visit the source of the Indus, and yet meekly
thankful. From this point, where the river springs from
the bosom of the earth, the increasing volumes of water
hurry down towards the sea. The height is stupendous.
I am resting at 16,946 feet above the level of the ocean.
An Eiffel Tower on the summit of Mont Blanc ! Not the
eternal river alone, but the whole earth lies at my feet. I
have crossed the Trans-Himalaya a fourth time and have
at last reached the goal I aimed at.
Of the source of the Indus the geographers of old —
Greek, Roman, and Arabian — knew nothing. Since the
day when the claws of the British lion closed round the
land of the Hindus, the cradle of the Indus has been
repeatedly moved and located now here now there. At
length English officers sent out native scouts to search for
I B
2 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
it, and these men found the head -stream, but not the
source itself. And now I listened to its monotonous
murmur.
I had five of my best men from Ladak with me. They
had accompanied me on my adventurous march right
through Tibet ; they had endured a bitterly cold winter,
and surmounted the Trans-Himalaya by unknown passes ;
with deep devotional feeling they had heard the chants
resounding through the cloister courts of Tashi-lunpo, had
visited the shores of the holy lake, and on the summit of
Kailas had raised their eyes towards the paradise of Siva.
I spoke Jagatai Turkish with my men, and Rabsang
translated for me into Tibetan. Tundup Sonam took care
of our guns and Adul stirred the pots as they simmered
over the cooking-fire.
A lucky chance had thrown a Tibetan nomad named
Pema Tense in my way. Allured by the liberal remunera-
tion in bright rupees which chinked in my hand, he had let
his comrades go their way and offered me his service
on the route north-eastwards through unknown country.
From him we hired eight sheep and bought their loads
of barley. Thus my own baggage animals were not over-
laden, and could now and then get a good feed in a country
as bare and naked as immediately after the deluge.
We set out on the morning of September 1 1, 1907, and
the hoofs tapped again on the hard frozen soil. The
temperature had fallen in the night to 11.3°. In Tibet
winter is a guest which comes early and stays late. The
sky was light blue and clear, and the rainy season, which
we had scarcely felt, was over. But the winds of the
south-west monsoon howled and moaned over the high-
lands, and where the soil was loose dust flew up from the
hoofs of the horses.
The land lies flat and open before us. It is the
" Northern Plain," the Chang-tang of the Tibetans, the
high plateau with its flattened surface forms. Behind us
rises the Trans-Himalaya with its wild precipitous rocks.
The valley we follow is broad and enclosed between high
irregular mountains. The Bokar-tsangpo, one of the
head-streams of the Indus, glides noiselessly between its
^^>
I. Source of the Indus.
V
2. A Mani Wall.
Sketches by the Author.
I THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY 3
ice-lined banks. Its water is cold and crystal clear, and it
is evident that it comes from snow-fields and springs and
not from glaciers.
In an expansion between the heights to the left of our
route white rings of salt glitter round the small vanishing
lake Jekung-tso. The same name is given to the pass to
which we ascend along a ravine between bare weathered
cliffs. The Bokar-tsangpo is left behind us, but in the
south-east we see the bluish heights with the thin snow-
fields whence the brook draws some of its water.
On the other side of the pass also we are still in the
basin of the Indus, for the rivulet which meanders among
small clumps of faded grass down the Lamo-latse valley
joins the Bokar-tsangpo.
Pema Tense waddles whistling and singing behind his
eight sheep and is always ready to give me any information
I ask for.
"What is the name of this place?" I ask him at a spot
where a row of cairns covered with mani stones crosses
the path.
" Shantse-gong," he answers. " Here the pilgrims
greet the gods of Kang-rinpoche, for from here the
actual summit of the holy mountain first comes into sight."
Pema must have been imposed on with this tale, for not a
glimpse of the mountain can be obtained from the cairns.
Some tiny rivulets still trickle down through the yellow
moss, the only vegetation visible, to the Lamo-latse brook.
I mention them because the easternmost rivulet should
perhaps be regarded as the true source of the Indus.
Another obstacle appears in our way, and then the
path leads to the pass of Lamo-latse sunk in a steep crest
of quartz porphyry. Here is the watershed of the Indus.
To the east stretches an elevated country which has no
drainage to the sea. We are at a height of 17,802 feet.
Two cairns mark the top of the pass, decked with yaks'
horns and rags, the offerings of pious superstitious pilgrims.
The six holy syllables "Om mani padme hum" are inscribed
in black on coloured streamers, and when the rushing
wind makes the streamers flap and crack, one can fancy
that " Om mani padme hum," uttered by many voices, is
4 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
borne by the wind over the desolate plateau to bring
blessing and happiness to the troops of pilgrims.
Yes, up here the stormy wind rages furiously. I have
to place myself with my back sheltered from the wind
when I read the instruments, so as not to be carried away.
And what a prospect towards the east-north-east ! Do
you imagine it is beautiful.'* It is terribly desolate, almost
awful. I feel as lonely and forlorn as in the midst of a
sea, a petrified sea with bell-shaped billows that are black
and red near at hand and pass into yellow, green, and
violet in the distance. I seem to stand on the crest of a
wave looking down on all the others. Space without end !
I should have to wander about for days and years to
reproduce all these details on my map sheets. Here I
take in at a single glance an enormous block of the earth's
crust. Waste, cold and lonely. No men, no animals, no
plants ! But the sun lights up the ground and the wind
howls among the rocks. There is no other sign of life.
It is pleasant to encamp (camp 237) after such a day.
We pitch the tents as quickly as possible to get shelter
from the storm which sweeps the ground like a stout
besom. But the air is clear, for there is nothing loose to
sweep away from this ground polished by the wind during
millions of years. We look in vain for a yellowish-green
patch which might be pasture land, and so one of the sheep
is relieved of its load of barley.
When the camp is pitched at three o'clock, the after-
noon seems long and the hours of solitude seem never to
come to an end. I write down in my diary a description
of the bit of earth I have seen since sunrise. The rock
specimens I have picked out of the hills with my geo-
logical hammer are numbered and wrapped up in paper.
And then Pema Tense must give me his company for a
while.
" What is the name of this valley ^ " I ask him.
" It is called Lamo-latse-lungpe-do, and it opens after
three days' journey into a large plain."
"Where is your home, Pema?"
" My tent stands in Gertse, sir."
" How far off is it.^"
I THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY 5
" Oh, quite fifteen days* march. We reckon eleven
days' journey from Yumba-matsen to Gertse."
" Are there many nomads in Gertse ? "
" My tribesmen live in two to three hundred black
tents, and we own large flocks of sheep which are our only
wealth."
" Tell me something about the profits you derive from
your sheep."
" Well, you see, some nomads shear their sheep them-
selves in Gertse, and carry the wool on yaks thirteen days'
journey to Tok-jalung, whither merchants from Ladak and
Hindustan come to market. Others let the sheep carry
their wool to market, and the purchasers do the shearing.
But those nomads do best who break salt out of the beds
of dried-up lakes, pack the lumps of salt on their sheep,
and tramp in midsummer all the way to market at
Gyanima and to the shore of Tso-mavang, where the sheep
are shorn, for they make a profit on the salt as well as on
the wool. And when they travel home again their sheep
are laden with barley, which they have obtained by barter.
Such a journey, outwards and homewards, occupies the
greater part of the summer. The sheep graze by the way,
no permission being asked, and so we nomads spare our
own grass for the winter."
The Tok-jalung gold-field, at a height of 16,340 feet, is
one of the highest permanently inhabited places in the
world. Pema Tense had often been there, and told
me that in summer 300 tents sprang up out of the earth,
for at that time gold-diggers came thither from Lhasa
and other places. During the winter only some thirty
tents stood there. It is bitterly cold, and often a storm
of powdery snow sweeps over the broad expanse.
Pema Tense looked out through the tent opening, and
when he saw that the twilight was falling over the earth
he rose and went out to look for his sheep and tie them up
by the tents for the night. Then, after chatting a while
at the camp fire of the Ladakis, he rolled himself up in his
skin coat like a hedgehog and fell into a sound sleep. He
had given us due notice that he intended to make off
altogether as soon as we met travellers or caught sight of
6 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
a tent, for if he were caught travelling about with strangers
and guiding them into the forbidden land he would be
beheaded as surely as twice two make four. Therefore, he
wanted his rupees paid to him every evening ; and he
always got them in full.
The storm keeps us company all night long. There is
something depressing in this constant wind, which, according
to Pema, will last quite eight months. It makes the tent
cloth flap and beat like a sail and it whistles and groans
among the ropes, and a cold draught sweeps over the
ground where I lie wrapped up in furs and felt rugs. The
temperature sinks to iS'^ in the night ; but at seven o'clock
it is already up to 40.3°.
I slip quickly into my clothes and am hardly dressed
when Adul comes in with my breakfast consisting of two
vertebrae of the last-killed wild sheep, fresh bread and tea.
Outside the Ladakis are shoeing my white steed, the
faithful animal which has carried me many hundred miles
through dreary Tibet. On this troublesome ground of
thick accumulations of detritus the horses become footsore
and must be carefully attended to.
We long to get out of this country which has nothing to
offer but water and wind. The path is easily recognizable,
and winds along like a light-coloured riband. Innumerable
men and animals have trodden it down and sunk it in the
ground. Pilgrims have swarmed from Gertse, Senkor,
Yumba-matsen, and other regions of Tibet to the holy
mountain and the wonder-working lake. Here and there
are seen signs of their camps, a slab of stone blackened by
fire, and three stones between which blue flames have
flickered above yak dung and brought the water in a kettle
to the boil.
Hour after hour our little company marches onwards.
There is seldom anything unusual to attract our attention.
Here lies the bleached skull of a wild sheep, Ovis a7?imon,
with its heavy beautifully curved horns. The valley opens
on to a plain and we turn aside from the brook which
disappears northwards. Its water murmurs melodiously
under a thin sheet of ice. A small herd of wild asses or
kiangs is disporting itself on the plain, but makes off when
3- Tema Tense, my Guide to the Source of the Indus and to Yumba-matsen.
Sketch by the Author.
THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY 7
we set up our tents at camp 238 beside a wall of dry yak
dung. The nomads, who have collected this fuel and are
now feeding their flocks in some other spot, will certainly
be surprised to find that most of their store of fuel is gone.
If we could get no other luxury we would at any rate enjoy
a large roaring fire at even.
The next day's journey brings us to a small pass
through cliffs of porphyry ; on the farther side Pema Tense
leads us through a valley deeply sunk between wild
weathered walls of rock, and with its bottom covered with
a deep layer of sharp pebbles. At times a small patch of
yellow grass appears with stems as hard and sharp as
needles. In two sheltered gullies hairy ragged nettles
struggle for life. Otherwise the country is everywhere
dismally barren, dried-up and desolate.
Beyond a second saddle consisting of limestone we at
last meet a solitary traveller.
" Where do you come from ? " Rabsang asks him.
*' From Yumba-matsen," he answers shortly, quickening
his pace.
" Where are you going ? "
" To a tent not far from here ? "
" What have you to do there .'* "
"I have left a boot behind," he replies, making off as
quickly as possible. Certainly an absent-minded gentleman !
Pema Tense thinks that the man belongs to a band of
robbers.
A gradually ascending path brings us to the Tsalam-
ngopta-la pass, 16,660 feet high, adorned with two cairns
and the usual prayer streamers. All round the horizon the
view reveals nothing new. Still on all sides stretches the
same dismal country. No black tents, no flocks. We
have marched north-eastwards for six days and only met a
single traveller.
Here at any rate we run no risk of being stopped by
dictatorial governors and militia levies. We feel ourselves
to be the lords of the land. If I had a larger caravan,
more men and more provisions, I could travel unhindered
a very long way eastwards. There is a peculiar charm in
the adventures and excitement of a forbidden route. But
8 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the object of the present excursion — the source of the
Indus — has been attained, and the main caravan is waiting
for us at Gartok. Well, it may wait. As all is going
well, we will try to advance two days' journey farther to
the north-east. We leisurely descend the slope from the
pass and prepare for the night in the Gyamboche district
at camp 239.
On setting out on September 14, we decided that our
next business was to look out for the tent of the headman
of Yumba-matsen, who, Pema Tense believed, was staying
in the neighbourhood. Every hill which seemed to
promise a wide prospect was climbed by one of our party.
Several times we thouo^ht we saw black tents to the north-
east, but in the telescope they resolved themselves into
heaps of rubbish or ring fences, which the nomads use as
sheep-folds. The only thing we discovered was the small
lake Nyanda-nakbo-tso.
Singular country ! The mountains do not form con-
tinuous chains but rise in rolls of weathering products or
steep humps of solid rock, apparently without any order.
They are yellow and red, violet, grey and black. The
surface is coloured, but the tones are subdued and solemn.
The people of the country seem to have fled before us,
but to-day signs of man appear. The way passes twelve
niaiii walls with stones bearing the everlasting " Om mani
padme hum." Round an open pond four such votive cairns
are erected. The animal life also announces a more favour-
able country. A covey of partridges chirps on the pebbles
of a slope, and five of them are a welcome addition to our
store of provisions. They are plucked at once and their
feathers whirl in the air like wind-driven smoke. They
are cleaned on the march, and are tied together and secured
on the back of the white mule, where the head of a wild
sheep, killed at the source of the Indus, is already enthroned
and nods at every step of the mule. Wild asses are also
seen more frequently than before.
The view in front is again barred by a small ridge at
the foot of which grass more luxuriant than we have
hitherto seen grows round a spring. A long well-kept
7na7ii wall runs up the slope, and not far from it stand
THROUGH UNKNOWN COUNTRY 9
perhaps a dozen cairns in a row. There must be men
here. We hurry up to the crest, keenly expectant, and
hope to catch sight of black tents on the other side, but not
even the field-glass can detect a single Tibetan. Only wild
asses wander over the plain, two hares race along a slope,
and some bluish- black ravens circle leisurely above our
heads. For the rest the desert stretches silent and dreary
before us, and in the background shimmers the little lake.
Disappointed we move onwards. We approach the
lake basin and the air becomes milder. Were it not for
the horrible wind we could enjoy here a last touch of depart-
ing summer.
After a time the desert scene is enlivened by 500
sheep which trot before us in the same direction. Ah !
there are our friends from Singi-buk, Pema Tense's
comrades, with their caravan. They took another route
and now we are following in their track. Gertse is their
destination. The sheep carry small loads of barley, for
which the herdsmen have bartered the easily won salt
they have taken from the ground.
Now we are on the steppe round the lake where grass-
hoppers fill the air with their rattle, and lizards dart
noiselessly over the sand. We notice on a slope by the
farther shore fifteen mani walls. Astonished at finding
them piled up so far from the track, I ask Pema Tense
about them, and he asserts that they are tombstones of
dead Tibetans.
A second lake now appeared behind a small isolated hill
of limestone, and thither we directed our steps. The
water may be drunk by any one who is not too particular.
But we did not put our stomachs to the proof as Ishe, one
of our Ladakis, discovered a spring of fresh water near the
eastern shore. There we made ourselves comfortable
enough to spend a night in the desert. The arrangements
had been partially provided by the nomads, who now and
then pitch their tents on the lake shore and feed their yaks
and sheep on the good pasturage. There is a steep wall of
phyllitic schist which can easily be split into slabs, and
several small mani walls are built of them. On the top of
one sits a yak skull with huge horns ; the six holy syllables
lo TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, i
are carved in its white forehead and filled in with ochre so
that they are red as blood. An old skin coat and a vest
had been left among the stones.
Out on the lake a flock of ducks were quacking, and at
dusk twenty wild geese alighted on the shallow water.
Then a shot cracked and put an end to their repose.
Three of the far-travelled visitors found their way into our
kitchen. When the darkness of night fell over the earth
we heard again an eager conversation among some sixty
wild geese as they splashed in the water or whizzing down
folded their wings above the surface. They came from the
south-west and were off again next morning before us.
Soon cold weather would cover the mud with a crust of
ice and force the wild geese to return to lower, warmer
regions.
After sunset deep violet shadows rose up in the east,
turquoise-blue tints lingered a while in the zenith, while
sulphur-yellow flames hovered over the western horizon.
They soon paled and went out, and the camp fires burnt
all the brighter. Out in the lake, which has a very slowly
falling bottom, were heard splashing footsteps. It was
Tundup Sonam returning with his game. At the foot of
cliffs of schist the dogs barked at the echo of their own
voices. Their bark pierced sharp and shrill through the
otherwise silent nieht.
— .^^^
^^\
'yCV;-<ifi:r^=^
5, /-h-
4. Snapshots in Camp.
Sketches by the Author.
CHAPTER II
THE NOMADS OF YUMBA-MATSEN
The thermometer fell at night only to 20.8°, and yet a
clear sheet of ice was formed over the old lake. We
were not the only visitors resting on the shore. A caravan
from Gyanima had come up early in the morning in three
detachments, and one of the party cautiously approached
our camp to find out what sort of men we were. Rabsang
entered into conversation with the man, and asked him if
he had any eatables to sell. Oh yes, he could spare a
little butter and rice, and he would go at once to fetch
them. However, he had hardly had time to exchange
a few words with his friends, when they hastily loaded
their yaks and sheep and disappeared northwards up the
valley leading to Gertse. Did they take us for high-
waymen ?
We take down our tents and load our animals, I swing
myself into the saddle, and off we go through the hope-
lessly dreary country. Wild asses scamper in herds over
the plain by the shore. They are shy. At Tso-mavang
one can go near them whenever one likes. No one sends
a bullet after a kiang within sight of the mountain of the
gods, and the animals know that the holy lake and its
shores are a sanctuary. But here, where there are no
holy places, the wild asses are quite aware that the wolf
is not their only enemy.
The plain rises imperceptibly to the eye towards
the valley opening Gyekung-sherma. Where are the
nomads in this God-forsaken land ? A mountain flank
to the south is spotted black. Can it be grazing yaks.'*
12 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
No, the field-glass shows us that it is only heaps of
fuel and small cairns. The country cannot be unin-
habited everywhere, for we have seen so many traces of
old camps.
To-day there is no wind. In the valley where the
sun has heated the limestone rocks it is actually hot. The
valley is short, and is bounded in the background by a
low pass. At last ! There comes a troop of black yaks
trotting down the slope. Are they roving tribesmen from
Yumba-matsen or another caravan from Gertse, which
crosses our course like a ship on the sea without sending
us a greeting across the waves ? At all events we will
not let these free rovers escape us. We must procure
provisions and means of transport at any price, and if the
men grumble we will treat them in Asiatic fashion, just
as if the days of Timur had returned.
My men longed to see men of any kind ; only Pema
Tense was in despair.
" It must be the chief of Yumba," he said. " If he
catches me he will beat me to a jelly, and then take from
me the ninety-six rupees I have received from you."
" Then perhaps it will be best for you to pack up your
things and be off, Pema."
"Yes, but let me stay here a while until Rabsang has
been up the valley to reconnoitre."
Rabsang went and returned after an hour. It was
really nomads from Yumba-matsen who were just moving
their quarters. Two tents were already set up. The yaks
would graze a while, and then be driven back over the
pass again to fetch another part of the movable property
of their masters. A large heap of various articles and
packages containing meat, barley, and tsamba, was already
piled up on the new camping-ground.
Now all was plain. The barley still left was put on
one of our horses, we said good-bye to Pema Tense, and
wished him every good fortune on his long journey to
Gertse, and went on up the valley. We saw him sit down
on the detritus and quietly light his pipe. There he
remained for a time looking after us, and then he gathered
his sheep together and walked down towards the lake.
n THE NOMADS OF YUMBA-MATSEN 13
He would soon overtake his comrades, and would return
home in their company.
We were going to make new acquaintances. Two
Tibetans came to meet us, saluting us in an embarrassed
manner when we came near their tents. We immedi-
ately drew from them by questions all they knew
about the geography of the country ; they told us that
Yumba-matsen is the name of a district lying east-north-
east of the pass. There, there are forty-five tents under
the command of the Gova or headman. Their flock graze
in summer in a region lying still farther to the north-east.
At the end of October they come down to the shores of
the Mugu lake, and remain there during the coldest winter
months. As soon as the early spring has succeeded to
the sharpness of winter, they return slowly to Yumba-
matsen.
In this way the nomads describe an orbit through one
region after another as the seasons change. In summer
they are to be found in one valley, in autumn in another.
When the frost of winter covers the Mugu lake with a
sheet of ice the wild asses know that it is time to depart.
Thus it has been from father to son since the most remote
antiquity. The experience possessed by the nomads of
to-day is a heritage from innumerable preceding genera-
tions. They have discovered that the pastures in Yumba-
matsen are best suited for summer grazing, and that the
meadows round the lake suffice for their winter needs.
When the winter herbage is consumed they return gradually
to their summer dwelling-places. A people whose exist-
ence depends entirely on sheep-rearing, develops those
powers of observation which are useful in the improvement
of their flocks. They know every spring, every cave in
their home country, and know what poisonous plants make
the pastures dangerous. They wean the lambs from the
ewes at the right time, and carefully accustom the sheep
to carry small burdens. Against the wolves of the wilds
the nomad is always on his guard, and in all the vicissitudes
of life goes to work carefully with his inherited knowledge.
The chieftain of Yumba-matsen owns 500 sheep, and
all his tent community 8000. Two hundred yaks and fifteen
14 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
horses also belong to his subjects. The sheep are sheared
in the middle of August, and the wool is sold to dealers
who come from Ladak and the Indian frontier. A large
sheep yields half a rupee. At Tso-mavang the wool is
dearer, but there the purchaser is saved a large part of the
cost of transport.
Our Tibetans were in the service of the Yumba chieftain,
and could not help us without permission from their master.
Therefore I sent one of them back over the pass to request
the Yumba-matsen-chigep, as he is styled, to come to us.
By that time it was evening, and we could not expect him
before the next morning.
The evening was cold and calm. We had 3^° of frost
at nine o'clock, and 23^° in the night. The bluish-grey
smoke whirled from the fire like dancing elves down the
valley, driven by a slight breeze from the pass. The vault
of heaven, dark blue and clear, spanned the earth, the
stars shone like sparkling jewels, the wreath of mountains
formed a straggling coal-black frame round the camp, and
above a ridge the moon displayed its silvery disc.
I lie awake for a while listening to the mysterious
silence. The moonlight casts a subdued light through the
tent covering, and here and there a bright shaft finds its
way through a hole. We are all soon fast asleep in this
singular, mysterious Tibet.
When I went out of my tent in the morning, two
well-to-do nomads were sitting talking to my men. They
wore loose black skin coats, soft felt boots with red
ties, and red turban-like bandages on their long shaggy
hair.
They rose, scratched their heads, and put out their
tongues according to the custom of the country. It was
no wonder that they were a little embarrassed, for they had
never seen a European before. But the negotiations had
hardly commenced when their shyness disappeared.
"Which of you is the Yumba-matsen-chigep.-*" I
inquired.
" Neither. The chief could not come himself, but he
has sent us with his greeting. Where do you come from,
sir, and whither are you travelling.-*"
THE NOMADS OF YUMBA-MATSEN 15
" I come from Kang-rinpoche and am on my way to
Gartok."
" But why are you travelling north-eastwards when
Gartok lies to the south-west ? "
" I have come hither to buy provisions and hire baggage
animals. To-morrow, five horses and as many yaks must
stand before my tent ready for travelling."
" On that matter only the chief can give you an
answer. When the Serpun, the gold commissioner, travels
through our country he is empowered to use the baggage
animals of the nomads without remuneration. But you
have no lamik (passport). We have not been informed of
your coming even by a jaik (message stick). Therefore
the chief cannot grant your request."
" Very good, then I will send two of my men to Gartok
and will remain here in the meantime. But if you will
yourselves bring up the animals I require, I will pay two
rupees a day for each horse and one rupee for each yak,
and besides give a liberal recompense to the drivers I
want. Do you agree ? "
" The horses and yaks shall stand ready before your
tent to-morrow," they answered, after I had paid them the
money for the first day. Now they became agreeable and
accommodating, and paid not the slightest heed to all the
prohibitions issued from Lhasa. They could rely upon
the silence of their fellow-tribesmen, and the wild geese
tell no tales.
"Tell me what you know of the country to the east,"
I begged them. And they told me all sorts of things, but
their range was limited. They knew the Lakkor-tso which
I visited in 1901, had heard of the Dangra-yum-tso which
I had lately seen in the distance, and had often ridden
to Selipuk and the Nganglaring-tso, sometimes by the
northern road across a gold-field, sometimes by the southern,
which passes the source of the Aong-tsangpo, a river
entering the Nganglaring-tso. By either way the journey
takes four days ; nomads of the Rundor tribe have tents
round the lake.
We started on September 17, after a cold night.
Forty fully-laden yaks tramped slowly and heavily down
i6 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the valley. It was a new association formed of four tent
groups which was migrating from Yumba-matsen to the
mouth of a side valley situated farther down. Each tent
community has its own camp, and there are no disputes
about pasturage where the old customs are rigorously
adhered to.
The baggage animals ordered were punctually provided.
The horses were small and shaggy but remarkably plump
and well-fed considering that they had been reared in such
a wilderness. When the chase has been productive they
are fed on dried meat ; and this perhaps helps to make
them look so round and sleek. The Tibetans shoe their
horses only for long journeys, and then usually only on
the forefeet.
Now my horses were to travel unburdened, for the
yaks took the loads. My men, who had worn out their
soles during a journey of iio miles, were to ride. Our
new guides went on foot, shouting and whistling as usual.
Their right arms and bare right shoulders shone in the
sunshine like polished bronze.
We bade farewell to the friendly nomads of the
Gyekung valley and marched off by the way we had come,
down the valley again. At the lakes, however, we diverged
to the west, leaving our old road to the left behind us.
Continuing the line of the small lakes a salt plain, the
Mugu-telep, stretches out. Here the Tibetans halted
beside a pond of fresh water and advised us to camp here
for the night, because the next spring was a long distance
off. Some kiangs, Pantholops antelopes, and wild geese
vacated the ground as we came up. A westerly storm
arose at mid-day, and the fine white powdery salt from the
Mugu-telep plain whirled like clouds of steam over the lakes.
The camp was larger and more animated than usual.
We were eight men with fifteen baggage animals and three
dogs. The Tibetans did their best, collecting yak dung
for the fires, carrying water, leading the animals to good
pasturage, and then entertaining us with all kinds of stories.
But the day seemed long. It is trying to the patience to
lie at anchor when one would like to be getting over the
ground and hurrying on to new fortunes.
5- XaTIVE-S WATClllNU MV DEPARTURE.
6. NaIIVES WAICHING MY DEPARTURE.
,1 THE NOMADS OF YUMBA-MATSEN 17
In the evening some fifteen wild geese came and circled
screaming above the pool. But when they found the place
occupied the leading geese drew off their party to the
lakes. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, and all
the plain lay in shadow. But the pilgrims of the air and
their pinions were lighted below by the sun, and stood out
bright and white against the blue expanse of heaven. Had
they come a minute later they would have been hidden by
the shadow of the earth.
At dusk some riders were seen on a distant height.
Our Tibetans thought that they had come out to look for
a flock of sheep which a few days ago had disappeared in
broad daylight when the shepherd was asleep. Probably
some bandits had seized the opportunity to gain possession
of the sheep. The old Ladak songs sounded round the
blaze of the camp fire, soft and melodious as in the days of
old. I had heard them times without number in the long
winter evenings on Chang-tang, but I was never tired of
the plaintive tones.
The temperature down to zero on the night of
September 18! That is severe so early in autumn. If
one has not put oneself in a state of defence on getting
into bed, one is soon reminded by the creeping cold that
furs are necessary. The pond was covered with a bright
sheet of ice. The air was clear and calm, and the sun
rose in splendour. By seven o'clock the temperature rose
to 38° and at one o'clock to 64.8°. A range of temperature
of more that 64° between night and day !
Our road runs north-westwards past two long salt lakes,
called Tso-longcho, swarming with wild geese. The sun
is burning and there is no wind. Now and then only a
rushing sound is heard, and, turning in the saddle, I see a
dust-spout coming ; it whirls the sucked-up sand in helices
and whizzes like a ghost over the plain. It rushes past us,
revolving as it goes, thins out and vanishes in the distance ;
soon another follows.
Sigu-ragling-la is a small flat pass on our way over a
ridge of quartzitic limestone that rises above the plain.
This country is a desert that reminds me of certain parts of
Eastern Persia. At a considerable distance are seen small
i8 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, i
hilly ridges of pink, light brown, or reddish colours ;
between them lies the plain so slightly undulating that I
should not notice the inequalities did not the caravan far
in front of us disappear now and then in a hollow, and
after a time appear again on a rise in the ground. The
road is excellent, with fine gravel thinly spread on firm
yellow loam, but a blade of grass is nowhere visible. This
track leads us north-westwards and, therefore, not in the
direction of Gartok. I ask one of our guides the reason,
and he replies that a detour is necessary because the
springs are so few on the direct course.
Two small lakes are seen to the north, the Tso-kar or
white lake and the Pul-tso or salt lake. The circular walls
on their banks are signs of winter visitors.
The hours pass by and the landscape still remains
monotonous. We pass a dark hill of schist with a spring
at its foot, and then the light pink quivering tints of the
desert plain come back again. A country like this is
uncommon in western Tibet, where the mountain ranges
are usually pressed together into innumerable folds.
About 150 wild asses disport themselves at some
distance to the south side of our route, where, no doubt,
there is grass. They lie down in herds or feed singly or
in pairs. But they are always charming to look at as they
skim like ships over the sea of the desert. When the
dust-spouts pass over the herd they look like the smoke of
burning vessels.
At length tents appear. They are pitched at a height
of 15,138 feet among the fresh-water ponds of Luma-
ringmo. It is like anchoring in a water channel in the
midst of an archipelago. The mountain ridges stand upj
on all sides like holms, seeming to hover a little above
the ground owing to the mirage.
7- A Nomad of Yumba-matsen.
Sketch by the Author.
CHAPTER III
OVER THE INDUS AGAIN
On September 19 our inarch ran due west.
"What is that curious erection ?" I ask the guide who
always walks beside me, as we pass twelve upright stones
a yard high near a deserted camping-ground. One need
not be an archaeologist to perceive that they have been set
up by human hands.
The Tibetan turns his head and replies: " There is no
one in our country who knows what they mean."
Probably they have stood there for ages and are
memorials of the time when Buddhism was introduced into
Tibet. Some powerful chief had perhaps placed his tent
there, or human sacrifices were offered between the stones
to the dreaded spirits which inhabit the mountains and
lakes.
An interruption occurred in our monotonous journey as
we rode by two projecting black cliffs of porphyrite and
volcanic tuff. I held in my left hand a folding cardboard
case to protect the loose leaves on which I drew the daily
course and the adjoining topography. With the right I
was marking on the map the last bearing I had taken.
Consequently the horse was left to his own devices. A
violent gust swept over the plain and the map sheets began
to flutter and flap. The small shaggy black animal from
the Gyekung valley which I rode was frightened out of his
senses, bolted, and sped like an arrow over the gravelly
soil. I was about to thrust the map case into my leathern
vest for safety when a crack in the ground caused the
horse to swerve suddenly to one side, whereupon the
19
20 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
saddle turned and I shot head downwards to the ground,
where for the fraction of a second I saw brilliant fireworks.
The Indian cork helmet I wore was crushed flat but it
saved my head. My left temple bled and my goggles were
bent up. When I had recovered a little from my consterna-
tion I got up cautiously and stretched out my arms and
legs to make sure that nothing was broken. I might
easily have been killed or have broken a leg, and then,
patched up temporarily, I should have had to spend a full
month in a waterless desert.
The horse came back at last to his comrades, breathless
and trembling, with froth on his bridle and sweating flanks.
The saddle hung loosely under his belly, and the dangling
geological wallet had no doubt helped to alarm the animal.
He had certainly done all he could to get rid of me, but
nevertheless we rode on together as if nothing had
happened. A slight headache, a swollen eyelid, and a
purplish ring round the left eye were the only results of
my somersault.
The boundless plain is before us, bestrewn with frag-
ments of lava, tuff, and porphyrite polished by the wind.
From a spoon-shaped swell in the ground I let my eyes
roam over the hopelessly dismal country we have crossed.
There are seen the small lakes, narrow and bright like a
sabre blade, in the midst of extensive plains bounded far
to the east by the dull pink mountains of Yumba-matsen.
The spring by which we pitched camp 244 at a late hour
is called Sariyol.
Next morning a thick veil of mist lay over the land,
making 'all the colours faint and the outlines indistinct.
We rode over slopes of detritus and again approached the
watershed of the Indus, which we soon crossed by the
Bokar-la pass, 16,989 feet high. Here, then, we left the
enclosed basin and came on to ground which is drained
to the sea. The view from the pass embraces an enormous
extent of country. We still looked in vain for tents and
flocks. Nothing could be seen but stone, sometimes as
rock in situ, sometimes in pebble slopes, in heaps of
weathering products, or accumulated in valley bottoms.
No verdure adorns the flanks, no streams glisten in the
OVER THE INDUS AGAIN 2t
sun. Here all is empty, dead, and dry, and one can under-
stand why the source-stream of the Indus which drains
this country has so little water.
From the Bokar-la a path runs down at first steeply
and then with an imperceptible fall to a valley where the
water of a few springs collects into a winding brook. The
valley gradually contracts between its walls of quartz
porphyry, and beside it rise terraces of erosion, more or
less continuous, which are often twenty feet high, and
testify to abundant precipitation in earlier geological
periods. We encamped at a spring near the point where
this side valley opens out to the Indus valley, and the
usual fuel, furnished by the herds of the nomads, was not
wanting.
We had neighbours also. One of our guides took
Ishe to a hidden tent camp, and he soon returned with two
natives and a grand supply of sweet and sour milk. Here
we were again in known country. In the year 1867 two
of Colonel Montgomerie's pundits explored this country,
and in 1906 Mr. Calvert, employed by the Indian Govern-
ment, crossed the region on his journey from Gartok to
Tok-jalung. The district round the uppermost Indus is
named Singtod, and lower down lies another, Singmet,
that is, the upper Indus district and the lower, for Singi-
Tsangpo is the Tibetan name for the Indus, and Singi-
kabab is the source of the Lion river. A day's journey
down-stream is a small temple inhabited in winter only by
a solitary lama. He must be a philosopher, poor man !
How dreary and comfortless his life must be when the
frost crackles in the rocks and a snowstorm howls round
the corners of his dwelling! But spring will come at last
and then he can go out again. It is a consolation to know
that he is not walled up in darkness like the monks in the
grottoes of Linga.
During the night our caravan animals stampeded down
the valley pursued by wolves. The alarm was given, the
men followed the track, and came up just in time to save
the horses and mules. Two hours later they were laden
again, and the train descended the Indus valley which is
enclosed by rather high mountains. The rocks on the left
22 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
side are steep, and the river, invisible at present from our
road, skirts their foot. Here and there we cross a rivulet
trickling down to the Indus. A tent stands close to the
river, a" little farther off seven close together, and then
again three. Here there are men at least.
A herd of yaks is grazing on a slope. What can the
animals find to eat there ? I cannot perceive the slightest
tinge of green. The velvety yak grass hides itself among
the stones, as also the mosses and lichens which the yaks
lick up with their tongues rough as graters.
The place where our loads were again removed from
the animals' backs, and where we set up our camp 246, is
called Hlagar. Here the Indus takes a sharp bend, turn-
ing northwards through wild picturesque rocks of porphyry.
I\Iy airy dwelling was set up on the brink of the right
bank, and from my tent I could enjoy the sight of the
proud river rolling its crystal clear water noiselessly among
the mountains.
A stone's throw away stood two tents, and the inmates
could not do enough for us. So we lived as princes in
this wild lovely country, which seemed to us the more
charming because we had of late seen nothing but desert.
The dogs, which had long been on short rations, were
not forgotten. Tundup Sonam brought partridges in
abundance to the kitchen, and I preferred them to the
perpetual mutton. Sour milk was to be had in gallons,
and bread was baked in yak-dung ashes. Could a man
fare better in such a country ?
The day was glorious, the air in the deep valley warm
and quiet, the temperature 55.6° at one o'clock, and 54.3°
in the river. Now and then a puff of wind came down
from the nearest ridge.
Two chiefs bearing the title of Gova appeared before
my tent with tongues protruded and polite bows.
" I am glad to see you ; be seated," I say to them.
" We are come to serve you to the best of our power,
sir ; you have only to command and we will obey."
" 1 hat's well. The men who have brought us here
with horses and yaks from Yumba-matsen return in the
morning to their tents. I shall therefore need horses and
8. One of the Chiefs at Hlagar.
Sketch by the Author.
Ill OVER THE INDUS AGAIN 23
yaks and fresh guides who are thoroughly acquainted with
the country on the way to the Jukti-la."
" Sir, we are sorry to say that yesterday the Serpun
came here from the gold-diggings at Tok-jalung and was
in great haste to reach Gartok, so we had to give him
all the horses at hand. But if you will put up with yaks
for riding and transport, you shall have as many as you
wish."
I thankfully accepted the offer of yaks, and in two
minutes we were as confidential as friends from childhood.
They were ready to talk and had no secrets. I fear,
however, that the information would not be so interesting
to the reader as to myself, when the Tibetans of Hlagar
spoke of their habits and their migrations. From time to
time they go off to the salt lake Tsak-tsaka, five days'
journey to the north-east. There they break up the salt,
pack it in sacks which they fasten on their sheep's backs,
and return to Hlagar to rest a while, and then continue
their journey for nine days to Gyanima.
The road between Tok-jalung and Gartok is a tasam
or post-road for riders, as the nomads informed me.
Therefore they live all the year in Hlagar, to furnish
horses to travellers of importance. Another road runs
down the Indus valley past the tent village Pekiya and
the mouth of the Langchu river as far as the confluence
of the Gartong, the southern branch of the Indus. The
Indus has only a slight fall all the way ; no cascades and
rapids disturb its peaceful course.
At Hlagar, situated at an absolute height of 15,328 feet,
the Indus freezes over at the beginning of winter, but the
water of permanent springs gurgles under the ice. About
midwinter snow sometimes falls so thickly as to form a
layer four inches deep. The cold is sharp but not so
intense as in Tok-jalung. The summer rains are seldom
so heavy that the river overflows its banks and cannot be
forded. At the time of our visit the Singi-kamba, as the
Indus is called here, flowed in two separate channels,
which together discharged 212 cubic feet of water per
second. The largest arm was at most 16 inches deep,
and the average velocity of the water 26 inches a second.
24 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
On the morning of September 22 seven strong yaks
grunted in camp 246. Some bore loads, others were to
be ridden, and I received a well-rested horse. Rupees
chinked in the black paws of the weather-beaten moun-
taineers, and the nomads of Gyekung set off to return
to their home. We bade a friendly farewell to all, and
with two young guides splashed through the famous river,
so insignificant here near its source, and yonder, where its
huge volumes of water roll over the plain at the foot of
the Himalayas, so gigantic.
Throwing a glance north-north-west we see the Indus
valley disappear among its mountain ranges. Our road
to Gartok runs up the side valley Terruk. The sharp-
edged porphyritic detritus that covers the ground thickly
makes our march very trying. We are therefore glad to
find that the valley is short and that the path has im-
perceptibly mounted to the pass Terruki-la (15,990 feet),
where granite is found on the saddle. The wind has free
play on the summit, and the pennants of the pass cairn
crack like whips.
Here the country is extraordinarily dissected. The next
valley, excavated in porphyrite and higher up in granite,
leads to another pass, the Sertsoki-la, and beyond a valley
trough there is a third, the Dotsa-la (16,552 feet). Camp
247 is pitched not far from its ridge at the Dotsa spring.
A splendid panorama to the south-west and south-
south-west attracts the eye irresistibly. Dark and gloomy,
but softened by the distance, a mighty range with
pyramidal snow-crowned domes rises under the setting
sun like the back scene of a theatre. It is the Trans-
Himalaya. The sun declines, and the snow-fields, just
now glisteninor like metal, vanish beneath the sharply
defined outline of the crest.
The evening glow has paled. Another night creeps on
from the cast. The moon in splendid majesty pours its
cold silvery light over the silent land. The background of
the Trans- Himalaya appears only as a faint haze, but the
firn-fields illuminated by the moon seem to hover like
white clouds on the margin of the horizon.
The wind has fallen and we seem to miss something.
< o
« 3
Ill
OVER THE INDUS AGAIN
Deep silence lies over the mountains. My tent looks out
on interstellar space, boundless emptiness. My men are
still talking in low tones. The yaks tethered to a rope
scrape from time to time their horny callosities with their
teeth. Sometimes a dog barks and the dung crackles as
the fire blazes up again.
But soon all is still. The men are tired and lie down
to sleep. The yaks slumber and dream. The dogs curl
themselves up, poking their noses under their tails, and the
fire goes out from lack of fuel. The silence is oppressive
and uncanny. There is something grand in such a night.
We sleep as in a temple hall ready to awake on the
threshold of eternity.
On September 23 we directed our steps still towards
the west-south-west through a rugged weathered country
where quartz -porphyrite, porphyry, and basalt form a
labyrinth of small ridges, crests, and saddles. Here and
there nothing is left of a disintegrated hill of rock but white
coarse-grained sand. To the north, however, lies a wide
plain covered with detritus which makes it look as dark as
the Kevir desert in Persia. Far to the north this plain is
bounded by the chains which enclose the valley of the
Singi-kamba.
Hleri-kunglung is a dark cone, Lumbo-seju a larger
mountain of a reddish colour, both to the south. They
raise their heads like signposts or lighthouses above the
irregular country, and it is many hours before we have got
past them. The Trans- Himalaya rises up in the south-
west like a huge wall, looking down with contempt on this
weathered and dried-up battlefield where former mountains
have struggled in vain against the forces of the atmosphere,
and where now only isolated hills of harder rock withstand
the process of disintegration that levels all before it.
We make a long march to get across this new desert
zone as quickly as possible. The ground is firm enough
and is covered with fine gravel and coarse sand ; a better
riding track could not be wished. We look in vain for
water, and animal and vegetable life is also absent ; only a
contented lizard occasionally darts over the sand. The
temperature is 59'. Not a cloud floats in the sky. No
26 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
wind-driven dust obscures the view. As far as sight can
reach, the mountains stand out sharp and clear.
Now the country in the direction we are travelling is as
level as a sheet of water. One guide marches in front of
the caravan, a ragged, good-natured old man. He has just
delighted us with the information that this desert plain will
never come to an end, however vigorously we may march.
Well, then, we may as well rest for a quarter of an hour
and refresh ourselves with the cold milk we have brought
with us in a can. I search the horizon with my field-glass.
Nothing living can be seen. Wild asses have left no
tracks and antelopes no longer show themselves. We
are the only living creatures in this desert ; even ravens
shun it.
We do not follow a path. Where our train moves
along no one has yet travelled. The old man at its head
says that it is all the same where we walk provided that we
do not lose sight of the conical and pyramidal mountains to
the south. The scattered footsteps of travellers are soon
swept away by the wind. The name of the desert is
Chaldi-chiildi.
A dark hill rises in the distance, the end of the day's
journey. It seems to be out of reach ; as the hours pass
by it grows very slowly larger. But patience overcomes
all resistance ; we ride past the hill and perceive on the
other side an oasis, Nyanda-nakbo, where luxuriant grass
grows round a small swampy lake. Smoke rises alluringly
from the smoke vents of half-a-dozen black tents, and two
Indian wool caravans are resting at the spot.
As soon as my tent is ready I send for the Hindus
to question them. They come from Rampur and have
bought wool in Gertse, which they will carry to Gartok
and India on five hundred sheep which they have also
obtained in Gertse. They have paid two rupees for each
sheep. About sixteen Indian caravans in the year are said
to fetch wool from Gertse, and no doubt their profits are
large.
The Gova of Nyanda told us of an attack made by
robbers two weeks before on a nomad community living in
seven tents. Eight scoundrels, armed with knives, sabres
„i OVER THE INDUS AGAIN 27
and guns, fell upon the village under cover of darkness.
The inhabitants did not even attempt to make a defence,
but fled into the mountains as hard as they could run.
When the band retired they carried off with them
everything that was not immovably fixed, all the eatables,
all the clothing, thirty pots, cans and dishes, besides 740
sheep and 69 yaks. They left scarcely anything but the
bare tents and the dogs. The plundered nomads were
living in the direst poverty, wandering through the
country and begging from tent to tent. But vengeance
was not asleep. Sixteen horsemen were on the track of
the robber band. Large herds of yaks and sheep could
not possibly disappear among the mountains without
leaving a trace. The disturbers of the peace would soon
be caught. In such a case there is no talk of pardon.
The heads and hands of the felons are sent to Lhasa.
Next morning four women from the pillaged tent
village came to me, and were thankful for the presents I
was able to give them.
A short day's march through pathless country brought
us to the bank of the brook Jukti-loen-chu. This descends
from the great pass on the Trans- Himalaya which still
separated us from Gartok. There is a choice of three
passes, our guide informed us — the Jukti-hloma and Jukti-
changma, or the southern and northern Jukti passes, and
the Lazar-la lying a little to the north of them. The roads
over them soon unite, however, on the southern side of the
crest. In the middle of December all three are closed by
snow, and then it is impossible for four months to cross the
Trans- Himalaya in this neighbourhood.
There are, however, other routes for those travellers
who wish to go from Nyanda to the lower Gartong. They
follow the foot of the mountains north-westwards and make
use of the low sand-covered pass, Pele-rakpa-la, which is
never rendered inaccessible by snow. The Lapta-la is a
fifth pass lying still farther to the north-west. And lastly
the breaching valley of the Indus can always be traversed,
and thus all elevations are avoided.
It is plainly evident that the main chain of the Trans-
Himalaya, which here rises between the two branches of
28 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, m
the Indus, collects almost all the moisture brought by the
south-west monsoon which has not been intercepted by the
Himalayan region. We have seen ourselves that the land
to the north-east of the Trans- Himalaya is a real desert, and
we are no longer astonished that the Singi-tsangpo, the
head-stream of the Indus, is unable shortly after the end
of the rainy season to collect more than 212 cubic feet of
water per second.
I
13- Visitors in my Tent.
14. My Tent being packed.
CHAPTER IV
OVER THE TRANS-HIMALAYA TO GARTOK
The morning of September 25 broke clear, cold and calm,
and the 28 degrees of frost in the night had covered the
quiet stretches of the brook with bridges of ice which rested
against the stones lying in the bed. But as we moved
slowly up the valley between walls and buttresses of
granite and porphyry, we soon met more water which the
morning sun had released from its fetters on the heights
and which made the blocks of ice a night old ring out.
Here and there we see a spring opening with water
frozen by the cold. Deserted camping-grounds indicate
visits of nomads and pilgrims. Often the pebbles cease for
a short distance, and moss and fine alpine grass form a carpet
under the hoofs of the animals, over which the caravan
moves noiselessly. There marmots have their holes.
The wild yak shuns the desolate region we have left
behind us, but here, on the heights of the Trans- Himalaya,
he finds a refuge and the pasturage and cold which suit
him. A noted hunter from Nyanda had lately wounded a
yak bull on the slopes of the Jukti pass and had nearly
paid for it with his life. Foaming with rage, the animal
had attacked the man with his horns, and the hunter only
just succeeded in saving himself by running between two
blocks of stone so close together that the yak could not
squeeze through.
The valley expands into a steeply rising trough.
jAt Changsang-karpo, where the rock is light -coloured
porphyry, the path is charming. A giant seems to have
thrown down a cartful of huge blocks to close the way, and
I 29
^o
TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the path winds up in zigzags between the blocks to the
pass. Often the animals can hardly squeeze through the
narrow openings. Some ascents are so steep that it is
preferable to walk. Vainly we look upwards, hoping that
the cone will soon come to an end, but it continues to rise
in front of us, and our train ascends over more piles of
blocks, and with repeated interruptions, to the Jukti-la.
Our hired yaks march lightly and nimbly, and I con-
stantly wonder that the horses do not break their legs in
the dark, treacherous holes that frequently yawn between
the stones. Sometimes we find under a boulder a frozen
green-shining pool of fair size. To the south two steeply
hanging glacier tongues push their way between dark rocky
shoulders on the crest of the range. The ice of the glacier-
fall shines like polished steel.
The ascent becomes gentler, but we have still a long
way to go north-westwards before we reach two small
cairns with fluttering streamers and strings. They are at
the top of the Jukti-la. Here the west wind blows half a
gale, raw and freezing. The caravan must continue its
march at once and move down into the sheltered valley on
the other side. I remain behind with three of my men on
the pass to determine its height above sea-level. It is my
fifth crossing of the Trans- Himalaya. The Jukti-la has
indeed been crossed by Mr. Calvert and the pundits, but I
wish to obtain an accurate reading of the height with a
boiling-point thermometer. All I have to do is to bring
the water to the boil with the last drop of spirit that the
lamp contains.
Tundup Sonam and Rabsang formed a screen with their
skin coats, I put a light to the wick, the water in the vessel
began to hum and sing, and soon the mercury rose in the
tube of the thermometer. Then the lamp went out. But
if I had to wait there all day I would ascertain the height.
Never again would fate bring me to the Jukti-la, and
if I missed this opportunity I should bitterly regret it
afterwards.
Rabsang had good lungs. He had to hurry after the
caravan and fetch me some stumps of stearin candle. It is
impossible to run at a height where one is subject to
15- Nomads on the March.
16. Halt on a Pass.
IV TO GARTOK 31
giddiness and among nasty boulders of porphyry, so we
had to wait patiently. I had only a waterproof to protect
me from the cutting wind. I crouched down with my back
to the wind and my body leaning forward, hummed an air,
and was nearly frozen. Tundup Sonam and the Tibetan
guide squatted close together, and my riding horse stood
half asleep with hanging head, his tail and mane flapping in
the wind.
An hour passed and the second also came to an end.
These hours are terribly long, when you feel the blood
slowly congealing in your veins until at length you can
hardly move a limb. At last shuffling footsteps were heard,
and after a time the boiling-point of water was properly
determined. The Jukti-hloma-la is 19,110 feet high, more
than 3000 feet higher than Mont Blanc, and it is the
second highest pass I crossed on this journey. The
highest of all was the Ding-la, 19,308 feet.
After such a contest with the wind we packed up our
belongings with satisfaction. I was too stiff to ride and
went on foot to loosen my limbs. It is impossible to walk
quickly at such a height, for the air is rare and the heart
beats as if it would burst. I soon took to the saddle again.
The wind was straight in our faces, shooting down as if
from a spring-board.
A small side valley opens on our right.
"What is the name of this valley?" I ask the guide,
as usual.
"It is the way from the Jukti-changma-la," he replies.
Just then there appears one of the men from Rampur,
leading the van of the sheep caravan.
"Why did we not take the same road as those men.'*"
I ask.
"The Jukti-changma is partially frozen over and horses
cannot cross it, while it is nearly impossible to drive sheep
through the boulders of the Jukti-hloma."
The Dunglung-chenmo valley opens on the left, dis-
playing snow-fields and insignificant glaciers in the back-
ground. We pass along the right side of the main
valley. All the ground is covered with boulders and debris
of granite and porphyry which seldom leave room for small
32 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
patches of grass. The valley leading down from the two
Jukti passes is deeply sculptured and is hemmed in by
wild rucrtred walls of rock. It is lifeless as a desert ; neither
wild nor tame animals are to be seen. The guide tells us,
however, that there are many wolves and lynxes in the
neighbourhood.
After the awful heights with their cold and wind it was
delightful to dismount at Dunglung-sumbo (16,966 feet),
where the camp was ready for us and the brazier spread a
welcome warmth through my tent. We had descended
2144 feet, and here the valley Lazar opened out, which
comes down from the third pass, the Lazar-la.
September 26 was our last day on this excursion. We
were to go down to Gartok, where letters from India awaited
me and I should at last receive news from Sweden and my
home. Therefore we started earlier than usual, and rode
at a smart pace down the rather narrow valley. The
rocks on the right side fall steeply, and the brook from the
three passes murmurs at their foot. After a while the last
ridges move aside, and through the portal of the valley
mouth is disclosed a view over the great valley through
which the southern branch of the Indus, the Gar-chu or
Gartong, flows in a north-westerly direction. In the
background, beyond the river-bed, rise mighty mountain
masses belonging to the Himalayas.
At Hlande-tsogsa four conical stone heaps are piled up
beside the road, but they do not breathe a single " Om
mani padme hum." The guide says that the place has a
bad name as a haunt of evil spirits.
We find ourselves in the valley mouth, where the
porphyrite stands in vertical dikes. Now Gartok (14,656
feet) comes in sight, the capital of western Tibet and the
residence of the two Garpuns or viceroys. It is a village
of the simplest kind, some white and black tents besides
several modest huts. But to us, coming from the desolate
regions about the source of the Indus, Gartok seems like a
capital. Temperature 57° ! Delightful after all the cold we
have endured during the past days. Tents and huts grow
slowly larger, the Jukchi brook vanishes to the left, and
we are down on the level valley bottom. Shaggy dogs
1-j. My Baggage Yaks.
i8. Tibetan Guides.
, IV TO GARTOK 33
bark us a greeting, and I am soon sitting in my large
comfortable tent, and reading my eagerly expected letters.
But the new equipment and the chests of silver coin I
had ordered from India had not arrived. A wearisome
time of waiting was in prospect for us. Autumn was come,
and winter would soon set in in Tibet, and day after day
passed by, but the consignment from India could not be
heard of. I read my letters over again and studied the
year-old newspaper, not even skipping the advertisements
and time-tables. I drew and photographed, sat over my
maps and forged new plans. The authorities would prevent
I me from tracing fully the main lines of the Trans- Himalaya.
I Well, I would do it. I was forbidden to return into un-
known country. I would go there all the same. Winter,
; too, would place obstacles in my way. Then the new
I caravan must march through piles of snow to reach its
destination, and enable me to fill up the blank space still
covering the middle part of the Trans- Himalaya.
In my spare time I visited new and old friends. Chief
among the latter was the great merchant, Gulam Razul, for
whom I afterwards procured from the Viceroy of India the
honorary title of Khan Bahadur. It was he who arranged
my new caravan, providing me with men as well as animals
and provisions. He had several roomy tents in Gartok,
furnished with carpets and divans and heated with iron
stoves. They were full of bales of cloth, and their walls
were lined with large iron-bound chests containing Chinese
silver coins, Indian rupees, gold-dust, and turquoises. A
smaller tent was his mosque wherein he spent his hours of
prayer. Round the tents ran a wall of brick-tea sewed up
in bales. Every bale was worth 70 rupees and he had
hundreds of them.
Gulam Razul told me various interesting details of his
trade. His caravans bring beads, coral, and turquoise,
English cotton goods and other wares to the markets in
Gartok and Gyanima and to Lhasa. Carpets, felt rugs,
Russian woollen materials, silk fabrics, and nephrite are
purchased in Eastern Turkestan, and are transported over
the Karakorum to Leh and Tibet. From Lhasa he
imports brick -tea, Tibetan wool manufactures, Lamaist
D
34
TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
drugs, and other goods into Ladak. In Tok-jalung he buys
§old-dust, which is subsequently sold again in Leh and
Lhasa. During the fairs in Gartok and Gyanima, which
are held in the three summer months, Gulam Razul sells
goods to the value of 25,000 rupees. His exports to
Lhasa amount to 40,000 rupees, and his imports from there
to 35,000. Gulam Razul's family holds the Lopchak
monopoly, a privilege of trade between Kashmir and
Lhasa, in which is included free transport on Tibetan
territory. The Tibetans enjoy a similar monopoly in the
opposite direction. The distance from Leh to Gartok is
reckoned at twenty - two caravan days' marches, from
Gartok to Shigatse forty-five, and thence to Lhasa eleven.
Smaller traders from Ladak resort to Gartok with dried
apricots and raisins, which they transport on asses, and
barter for sheep's wool.
Dava Shah was a prominent merchant from Leh who
was about to travel on to Lhasa. He visited me in my
tent and asked if he might lend me 3000 rupees in
cash, which made his chests heavy. But I had already
sent for money to India and had therefore no need to avail
myself of his kindness. He would have been glad to avoid
the risk and trouble of transport, and he knew that the
loan would be repaid to the last anna.
One day I betook myself to the small temple of Gartok,
the Gar-yarsa-gompa, a cloister with eight monks under
the control of Tashi-gang. The temple hall is a small
dark closet. A red-painted tanka hangs before the altar
and the statue of the Palden Hlamo is hidden among
bunches of ribands and rags. The water in the metal cups
on the altar table was frozen to the bottom ; no other
offerings are presented to the gods in this cold sanctuary.
It was much more comfortable in Gulam Razul's
dwelling. He sat on a divan in the middle of his large
tent, smoking his silver-studded narghileh, and receiving
his guests with amiable dignity. We spoke Persian,
joked and laughed heartily. Tea was handed round in
Chinese porcelain cups, and the raisins, apricots, and slices
of bread which accompanied it on pewter plates from Leh.
One faggot after another was thrust into the stove, which
-^j^.r'^lgr ^>»g-5y^ =>.L^' jf^kj^ik^^-y
19. Camp in the Trans- Himalaya.
20. A Riding Vak.
TO GARTOK 35
became glowing red and crackled, spreading an invigorating
heat through the tent. Some fat, greasy, good-tempered
traders from Lhasa squatted in a corner arranging their
silver tengas in piles for counting. The next day they
were returning to the holy city, and now they were prepar-
ing to pay their debts before leaving. Two Hindus were
likewise waiting on the great pasha of Gartok. They
were extreme revolutionists, and poured forth the vials of
their wrath on the English in India. I let them chatter
for a time and then gave it them hot and strong, and they
begged me earnestly not, for heaven's sake, to betray their
rash speech. Political babblers, who call themselves
heralds of freedom, are the same in all lands.
In these days of expectant waiting we found relief
even in folklore and legends. In ancient times a lama
of the Pembo sect and an orthodox lama met one
day at the foot of Kang-rinpoche, the holy mountain.
There they made a bet together. The one who should
reach the summit of the mountain when the sun gilded the
peak on the following morning should for ever retain
possession of Kang-rinpoche. The heretical lama started
at once up the southern flank, while the other lay down to
sleep. When day dawned his servant perceived his
master's rival close to the summit and waked the sleeping
monk. He answered with a smile, " Keep calm, let the
sun rise first." And when the sun appeared above the
horizon the orthodox lama ascended on a sunbeam to the
summit, while the Pembo lama was floundering painfully
through the firn snow.
A dark vertical line of bare rock is still visible in the
snow on the southern flank of the mountain. It shows the
track of the heretic and does not reach quite to the top.
For as the climber was approaching his goal he threw a
glance up to the apex of the mountain and saw the other
lama standing on it. He was so astounded that he fell
down the slope, losing his prayer-drum, which his rival
seized to play an accompaniment to his song of triumph.
j The defeated monk humbled himself, and begged his
successful rival to give him at least a souvenir of the holy
1 mountain. The victor took a handful of snow from Kang-
o
6 TRANS-HIMALAYA
rinpoche and threw it to the summit of the Fundi moun-
tain, which stands to the north of Tso-mavang. The
Pembo hima went thither, and since that time there has
always been a small patch of snow on the Fundi. When
this snow disappears at the end of time, then will the snow
mantle of Kang-rinpoche also melt away and the earth will
be destroyed.
In Gar-yarsa, where we were staying, the two Garpuns
dwell only in summer. In winter they live at Gar-gunsa,
a few short days' journey down-stream. Though the differ-
ence of height is only 591 feet, Gar-gunsa (14,065) has a
much milder climate and, as a rule, little snow.
I determined for the sake of a change to remove my
camp to Gar-gunsa. I paid no farewell visits to the
viceroys. One of them was ill and the other had not
deigned to return my visit on arrival. He had, however,
to provide me with yaks of burden, and two of his men
were to accompany me all the way to the frontier of
Ladak, to see that I did not run off along forbidden roads.
It is pleasant to pack up my things, shake the dust off
my feet, mount my horse and ride away from the small,
miserable windy Gartok, where soon only two families will
be left to pass the winter in their huts.
Not far from the town of Gartok we ride through the
numerous channels of the Gartono^. Two of its arms are
quite small, one of them is frozen to the bottom and the
horses slither over the ice, while the others still fight
against the cold of night, and have only strips of ice along
their banks. The bed is broad, though at this late season
it contains little water. But we perceive that it can hold
a considerable stream when abundant rain falls in late
summer. Along the left bank runs an erosion terrace
13 feet high. The road passes along the top and the|
river vanishes for a time from our sight, i
The valley is broad and grand. On the right we have
the Trans- Himalaya, on the left the Tibetan slopes of the
Himalayas. Small, boldly excavated side valleys display
their portals on both sides. Flat cones of rubbish spread
out like fans from their openings, and shallow runnels, now
dry, wind downwards to the river.
TO GARTOK 37
The valley contracts. The Himalayas and the Trans-
I Himalaya stretch out hands to each other. A narrow pas-
sage appears in front of us which the river has carved out.
i This passage is called Nima-lung, and here we pitch our
tents. Here all the arms of the river are collected into a
single channel, and the water glides between terraces 60
I and 100 feet high, as it is slowly sucked into the narrows.
j Where the river again divides below these narrows I might
drift with the current down to Gar-gunsa. The young
! Eurasian, Alexander Robert, who had waited for me at
I Gartok, had become a skilful boatman on the holy lake.
! He could steer the boat while I marked down the course of
; the stream on my map. A map survey of the valley had
! been made by Englishmen, but the river with all its wind-
ings was not drawn on it.
We would first make a short trial trip. The boat was
put together and manned, and the current carried us slowly
and easily towards the narrow gorge. But at the entrance
there was a change. Here we darted like an arrow past
the banks and entered the rapids ; now it was too late to
change our minds, and we had to go on as the water was
sucked in as into a funnel. We warded off the boat with
oars from the threatening blocks covered with smooth or
foaming bells of clear water. In one sharp bend the boat
could not turn quickly enough with the current and
rushed at full speed on to a humpy block of stone where we
were within an ace of capsizing. But before we were
aware of our danger the stream had released the stern of
the boat and we were again afloat rushing madly through
the wild gorge.
Now we heard the roar of a rapid. We tried with all
our might to hold back the boat with the oars, but the
current was too strong, and we neared the danger at a giddy
speed. One glance sufficed to convince us that it was
impossible to thread our way safely through the blocks which
formed a barrier all across the bed. This waterway was
not made for canvas boats. The boat would either be over-
turned or torn to pieces. Just above the rapids the current
was less rapid and gave us time to force the boat with firm
j thrusts behind a block at the bank, whereupon Robert
38 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, iv
jumped into the water and drew our small craft ashore.
This much our trial trip had taught us, that it was wisest
to keep on dry land for the present.
During the night we posted a strong watch, for wolves
swarmed in this country, and at Gartok one of our mules
had fallen a victim to a pack of Isegrims.
fl
22. Crossing a River.
•%#,1^w:«
•»..*j«3H*i'
23. Ox THE Way to Chushul.
CHAPTER V
TO THE CONFLUENCE OF THE INDUS ARMS
The road from Nima-lung winds through dry clefts between
rocky hills up to the Chagring-la, a small swell on which
a streamer pole is set up on a heap of stones. The view
from it is hardly more extensive than from any other point
in the valley. Far to the south-east are still seen the
mighty mountains standing beyond Gartok, and to the
north-west we perceive a succession of spurs which we
shall pass one after another. The valley is now broad
and open, and the Gar-chu, beside which we are travel-
ling, does not glide so noiselessly as farther up, but
murmurs gently and forms rapids which indicate a greater
fall.
The valley lies before us in solemn stillness as on a
Sunday ; men and herds are absent, and all is deadly quiet
and as deserted as though a hostile army had marched
plundering through the country. A mani wall and the road
to Ladak are the only signs left by human hands and feet.
At Namru alone meagre bushes grow among rank grass,
and a field on which barley is sown in favourable years is
the first specimen of agriculture we have seen in western
Tibet.
In the background of the Shinkar side valley rises a dark
mountain mass with snow-covered summits — a passing
glimpse of the huge crest which we shall follow to Ladak
and which has been named the Ladak range by English
topographers. It forms the watershed between the Indus
and the Sutlej. In former times its slopes and steep walls
have been washed by tremendous floods of rain, as is proved
39
40 TRANS-HIMALAYA
by river terraces i6o feet high which we notice at the
mouth of the Shinkar valley.
Chusan, the " warm water," is a name we frequently
meet with in Tibet. Here also a group of hot springs
bubble out of the ground close to the left bank of the Gar-
chu and 6 feet above the surface of the river. One of
them forms a small open basin, the clear water bubbling up
at its bottom; it has a temperature of 141°. At the orifice
of another spring the water is boiling, and therefore must
be heated to more than 212°. A third shoots up like a tiny
geyser, and its eruptions follow one another at intervals of
a minute. The water is collected from all sides by small
runnels into a large basin, in which invalids bathe to restore
their health. A stone wall affords protection against the
wind, and another serves as a dressing-room. We encamp
just beyond the springs on the depastured meadow of
Luma-ngoma (camp 253).
The valley bottom stretches before us as level as a floor
as we move on next day towards the north-west. The
ruins of two huts are the old Gar-gunsa, the guide says.
At one time the river of a side valley flooded the place, and
Gar-gunsa was therefore removed farther down the stream.
We see its tents and fences of brushwood in the distance,
but it is a long way to it over an extensive plain covered
here with sand, there with grass, with bushes or swampy
patches. Here are grazing a number of yaks and horses,
and we perceive that the winter migration from Gartok
has commenced.
In Gar-gunsa my long period of waiting came at last to
an end. The post came from India with provisions, money,
arms, and ammunition, and on November 9 we were able
to start for Ladak.
Now the caravan is again large and imposing and winds
like a dark snake over the grey ground. In Gar-gunsa I
bought mules from Gulam Razul. They are allowed to
travel without loads that they may save up their strength
for the hard winter campaign which awaits them in the
north. Hired yaks carry all our baggage, and the Tibetan
escort, two horsemen of the Garpuns' guard at Gartok,
arrange everything at the camping places. They really
V CONFLUENCE OF THE INDUS ARMS 41
accompany us to watch our movements, but I do not mind
that, so long as we remain on the great high-road, and I
have no intention of giving them any trouble — at least not
for the present.
I ride my little Ladaki horse, which after the long rest
is fresh and plump. Our four-legged escort consists of a
whole pack of dogs of all kinds, our own caravan dogs and
other freebooters and tramps which have made friends with
them in Gartok.
The valley slopes down imperceptibly to the eye ; no
obstacles come in our way, and the ground consists of the
finest dust, on which grow tall yellow hard grass and ombo
bushes peeled by the early winter. We therefore make
quicker progress than usual. Two mules carry bells and
sleigh-bells, which tinkle merrily to their tripping steps ;
from time to time are heard the shouts of the drivers,
horses neigh, yaks grunt, the dogs dart like rockets after
startled hares, and I draw the monotonous road to Ladak
on the map sheet in front of me.
Here stands a solitary tent, there two mani walls
remind the passer-by of the wanderings beyond the valley
of the shadow of death, and here again come shaggy yaks
carrying fuel to Gar-gunsa, where the two Garpuns are
expected to arrive this evening.
The train comes to a halt. Ah ! here are two branches
of the river in front of us, frozen hard as stone. A path on
the ice is strewn with sand and then we move on again.
The road crosses the valley to the foot of the mountain on
the left side, where some lively wild asses look down on us
with curiosity from the top of a flat cone of detritus at the
mouth of a transverse valley. The level bottom of the
main valley has a yellowish tinge from the strips of meadow
between the arms of the river, and here and there is a dark
patch of bushes. The weather is splendid, clouds and
winds have taken a holiday, summer still lingers in the
sun, but my right foot, which is always in the shadow of
the horse, is as cold as an icicle.
Tibetans have set up their tents at the spring Chiu, and
we let our horses loose to graze, but at sunset they will be
again tethered in camp. The neighbourhood is noted for
42 TRANS-HIMALAYA
wolves which attack cattle in packs. In the night gun-shots
and loud cries are heard near at hand ; some of our men
are out driving off a pack of Isegrims, The night before
a wild ass dashed into our camp mad with fright and tried
to hide himself among our animals. His upper lip was
torn off and red froth lay round his mouth ; evidently he
had only just escaped with his life. There are said to be
two kinds of wolf in this country, one with a light grey,
almost white, coat, the other dark grey.
From the Chiu spring we catch sight to the north-east
of the gradually ascending flat pass Pele-rakpa-la, of which
we have heard before. On the farther side lies the
valley of the Lang-chu river.
At night my men were in high spirits. Grand fires
flamed and crackled among the copses of ombo bushes, and
the men, wrapped in their sheepskins, sat in groups as close
as possible to the flickering fire. The brown weather-
beaten faces beamed with pleasure at the thought that
Ladak was near. In the bright yellow and red light the
half-wild figures stood out sharply against the black night
behind them. We felt that winter had laid its hand in
earnest on the earth. By nine o'clock the temperature had
fallen to 2.1°; terrible cold after the warm day. The air
was perfectly still, the flame of my lamp showed not the
slightest flicker, the tent flap hung limp and motionless,
and the smoke of the camp-fires rose straight as a candle
up towards the stars. The sickle of the moon hovered
above the mountains in a cold blue winter sky ; we should
have light nights all the way to Ladak.
When I came out into the bright morning light after
41.8" of frost in the night, all the bushes and grass stalks,
tents, saddles, and chests, nay, even the yaks and horses,
were covered with the whitest rime. I felt as though
everything had turned into marble and would crack like
glass if it were too roughly handled. But the sun soon
destroyed the illusion, and when we continued our journey
over the hard frozen ground, the landscape had assumed
its usual appearance. The belt of vegetation remained on
the right while the path ran over barren land bestrewn all
over with granite debris. Here stood a inani wall, the
26. Thakur Jai LiiA.M. ,..niiM-, nil. L:-'.i,uii Ai.ent in Gartok,
WITH SOME OF HIS SERVANTS.
27. Camp at Gar-gunsa,
28. The Indus covered with Ice.
CONFLUENCE OF THE INDUS ARMS 43
letters cut out in its granite slabs silently proclaiming the
holy words.
Farther on the ground becomes sandy and lumpy
owing to the numerous tufts of grass, and the road skirts
the foot of the screes of the Ladak chain. These cones
spread out from the mouths of side valleys and succeed
one another on either side of the main valley alternately
as far as the sight can reach. Between their lowest
margins the breadth of the level valley bottom is about
6 to 9 miles. The dark rocky gables which the Ladak
chain sends out to the main valley form an endless
perspective fading away in ever lighter and more airy tints
in the far distance. Between them yawn the short narrow
and gloomy ravines of the transverse valleys. Up on the
left bank terrace we are at a higher level than the river
and therefore have a good view of its winding course.
On the other side rise the more hilly heights of the Trans-
Himalaya, which are far lower than those of the Ladak
chain. Therefore the rubbish cones also of the Trans-
Himalayan side valleys are smaller. Such is the scene
day after day. But these chains are both important main
features of the physical geography of Tibet ; the Ladak
chain on account of the part it plays as a watershed, and
the Trans- Himalaya as the true boundary range of the
elevated country.
The main valley is singularly straight. Therefore,
from a high detritus cone the sight can sweep far to the
north-west, far beyond Demchok and the western boundary
of Tibet to the pink and brownish-red mountains which
stand in Ladak. Beyond these mountains appear other
summits in light steel-blue tones which we can only just
perceive. In the foreground, and yet a good day's journey
off, the monastery Tashi-gang is enthroned on a small rock
in the midst of the valley. The air is so clear that
distances appear insignificant. Lastly, we descry to the
right the valley through which the Singi-kamba, the Indus
proper, emerges from the mountains to join the Gar-chu.
There the main valley expands into quite a plain tinged
yellow by grass and spotted brown by bushes.
We soon reach the small village Langmar, where six or
44 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
seven families dwell in black tents, protected from wind
and cold by brushwood fences. To guard against the
evil spirits which live in the air their dwellings are adorned
with poles, strings, and streamers.
Scarcely has the sun gone down in the west when the
night frost comes creeping on and penetrates everywhere.
Then the ink freezes in my pen as 1 sit cross-legged on my
bed entering my observations in my diary. Then the
fires burn more briskly and a freshly filled brazier is more
frequently brought into the tent. The thermometer sank
in the night before November 1 1 to — 12.6°.
On this day we made only a short march. Its goal
was the point where the two head-waters of the Indus flow
together. The Gartong or Gar-chu streams along slowly
and quietly, but the Singi-kamba rushes furiously and
gleefully out of its gate in the Trans- Himalaya. We
pitched camp 256 on the grassy bank on the left side of
the Gartong. I had a beautiful and uncommon view over
large ice-covered expanses of water.
Now my task was to measure the two rivers. Perhaps
the reader may think such work superfluous and uninter-
esting. But there he is mistaken. A hundred years ago
only the Gartong arm was known and was supposed to be
the true source-stream of the Indus. Afterwards a more
northern river, the Singi-kamba, was heard of, but some
fifty years ago opinions were much divided as to which of
the two rivers should be considered the main stream
and which the tributary. In 1867 it was proved by
Montgomerie's pundits that the Singi-kamba was con-
siderably longer than the Gartong. But the mere length
of the course is not decisive. The volume of water is at
least as important. However, the example of the Tibetans
was followed at that time, and the Singi-kamba was
allowed to be the source-stream of the Indus. No exact
measurement was undertaken. Therefore, I pitched my
tents on November 11, 1907, at the confluence of the two
Indus arms.
I could see that no easy task was before me, for the
Gartong was fast frozen over save for a narrow channel in
the middle. An opening was hacked out in the ice on
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29. Little Puppy keeps Guard.
30. The \ illage of Langmar.
31. Demchok.
V CONFLUENCE OF THE INDUS ARMS 45
our bank and then from the boat we attacked the ice sheet
with spades and axes. We wanted an open passage across
the river that we might measure the depth and velocity
without difficulty. Scarcely was our channel finished
before huge ice-blocks came down from above, stopping up
the passage worse than before. The boat also was nearly
torn to rags.
A change of scene occurred at noon. The ice-drift
diminished, the blocks in the choked passage began to
press and rub together, and the whole mass set itself in
motion with a grinding roar and floated off down-stream.
Where the bed was narrowest and the current swiftest the
surface was almost free of ice. In a moment a rope was
stretched across the river, and I measured the depth at
eight points at equal distances apart, and the velocity at
the surface, at the bottom, and half way down. The
results showed that the Gartong was 190 feet broad, had a
mean depth of 15.9 inches and a maximum of 30.7, flowed
at an average rate of 1 1 inches a second, and discharged 231
cubic feet of water per second. A small branch behind
a mud-bank brought the volume of water up to 235.5 cubic
feet.
The Singi-kamba was divided into two arms near the
confluence, and it seemed as if this river must form an
extensive delta after heavy rainfall, whereas the Gartong
is always confined to a narrow trench. The upper branch
of the Singi-kamba had the following dimensions : breadth
30 yards ; average depth 1 2 inches ; maximum depth 20
inches; average velocity 26.7 inches, and the volume of
water 200 cubic feet, per second. The dimensions of the
lower arm were: breadth 107^ feet; mean depth i i-g- inches;
maximum depth 19 inches ; average velocity 17^ inches, and
discharge 145 cubic feet, a second. The whole river there-
fore discharges 345 cubic feet of water, or no more than
the Gartong.
Accordingly the Singi-kamba, the Lion river, is not
only the longer but also the more voluminous of the two
head-streams, and the problem is solved. Certainly it may
be suggested that the dimensions given above only apply
to late autumn and winter, for in summer and especially
46 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
during the rainy season very different conditions may
prevail. No doubt this is the case. The rainfall diminishes
north-eastwards, and therefore more rain falls in the basin
of the Gartong than in that of the Singi-kamba, which
may be robbed of moisture by the Trans- Himalaya. The
spring flood consequent on the melting of the snows is also
greater in the Gartong. How often irregularities must
occur in consequence of the direction of the wind and the
capricious variations of temperature ! In the meantime we
may consider it probable that the Gartong carries during the
whole year more water than the Singi-kamba, but we have
at least discovered that the Singi-kamba is the larger
stream when no disturbing influences are at work, when
there is no precipitation, and when the temperatures in the
two river basins may be considered identical.
The Singi-kamba traverses the Trans- Himalaya in a
breached valley, while the Gartong flows in a tectonic
valley between huge folded mountains. Therefore it is
the latter which determines the direction of the united
Indus. From Gar-gunsa the Gartong skirts the foot of
the mountains on the right side of the valley, but just at
the confluence the Singi-kamba forces it over to the left
side. The mud delta of the Singi-kamba fixes the position
of the confluence.
After 25 degrees of frost in the night the river was
covered next morning with a thin sheet of ice. Only a
few small channels remained open, through which the
current carried quantities of porous ice-blocks, which rang
clearly as they struck the ice attached to the banks. Over
the top of the flat tongue of land between the two rivers
we saw the ice of the Singi-kamba hurrying down to the
Gartong. Here the name Gartong is lost in the waves of
its comrade, for the Tibetans name the Indus, as far as
they know its course north-westwards, the Singi-kamba or
Singi-tsangpo, the river of the Lion.
We rested here a day. In the afternoon all the shore
ice and all the ground ice vanished, but quite by seven
o'clock more blocks came down, and at night the ice made
a noise like a sugar saw. The landscape presented a
curious spectacle in the moonshine. The mountains under
;2. Rohert's Trial Trip on the Indus.
33. At the Confluence of the two Indus Arms.
34. The Indus Valley at Tashi-gang.
TSAKE-I.A.
CONFLUENCE OF THE INDUS ARMS 47
the moon were inky black profiles, the illuminated cliffs
just opposite only faintly perceptible. The whole valley
bottom between the two seemed to be full of water, and
the drift-ice glided along like a moving pavement of glass
sherds and glazed porcelain.
CHAPTER VI
IN DARK, DANK CLOISTER WALLS
On November 13 our train proceeds farther down the
Indus valley, which has such a slight fall that the eye
cannot perceive it. The river therefore flows slowly and
peacefully, and its considerable breadth makes it look
larger than it really is. Beyond the town of Leh it con-
tracts in its narrow valley, and then becomes deep and
impetuous.
Numerous springs well up along the road. Their
rivulets are frozen up, and the ice sheets spread over the
lumpy withered meadows. Occasionally a field appears
surrounded by a stone wall and destined for barley culti-
vation, and there is no lack of mani rows with their
prayers in stone. What is wanting in this terribly sparsely
peopled and poor country, next neighbour to the fertile
India, is human beings.
Right in front of us the monastery Tashi-gang gradu-
ally grows larger. Its walls are erected on the top of an
isolated rock of solid porphyrite, which crops up from the
bottom of the Indus valley like an island drawn out from
north to south. As a whole it vividly reminds me of the
village Yezdikast in Persia, and the fortified rock villages ,
in Transcaucasia. The best view of the monastery build- '
ings is from the east, and here, at the foot of the hill, lies '
the small wretched village of Tashi-gang, with its twenty 1
low stone huts roofed with brushwood. !
While the tents were being set up on the left bank of'
the Indus, I took a walk round the singular lama fortress.
Its dirty greyish - yellow and red walls slope slightly'
48 '
CHAP. VI THE MONASTERY TASHI-GANG 49
inwards ; up under the eaves runs a border of the colour
of hawthorn blossoms. The windows, too, have frames
coloured red. The Ihakang, or hall of the gods, is a little
higher than the other buildings, and on its roof flutter the
usual bunches of streamers and all the decorations that
pacify the spirits of the air, fend off evil powers, and bring
peace to the abode of the gods.
Before the eastern fa9ade of the temple a long fine
mani wall is erected ; on the short side stand two round
free-standing towers, and here and there are seen red and
grey chko7^tens. The whole is surrounded by a moat 10
feet deep, interrupted only on the east where communica-
tion with the village is kept open. On the same side
stands the main portal. It gives access to a court full of
rubbish, offal, and savage, dirty dogs. A second open
space is like the court of a Turkish caravanserai with two
storeys of verandahs resting on wooden pillars. The
Ihakang has a small court of its own, also surrounded with
verandahs and with small panels adorned with paintings.
All the monks that were at home, perhaps about
twenty, followed at my heels, a silent troop, in the usual
garments like Roman togas. Several faces were still rosy
red, but many had lost their original complexion and were
turning black under the influence of tea and butter, dirt,
grease, and poverty.
As I mounted the steps to the temple hall the monks
woke up, calling out to me that the hall was not open to
strangers, and could not be shown without permission from
the lords of Gartok. If I forced my way in, I should
arouse the anger of the gods, and misfortune would befall
Tashi-gang. Neither could I inspect the 7nanekang, the
room with the large prayer-mill, or the storeroom where
the religious masquerade dresses and the drums, trombones,
and cymbals are kept, for the prior had the keys and he
was then staying at Gartok.
It was vain to tell them that I had already been
admitted without difficulty into about thirty convents in
Tibet.
"Well, then," they retorted, "as Tashi-gang is much
the same as all the others you can very well do without
E
50 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
seeing it." They were quite right — I should lose nothing
by not seeing Tashi-gang.
"If you come again to-morrow, the fifty monks of the
monastery will drive you off," declared a tall lama.
"You said just now that there were only twenty-five
monks in Tashi-gang," I replied, and I rode down to my
camp, which now stood ready on the river bank 200
yards from the monastery.
In the twilight my Ladakis started a tremendous fight
with the villagers and the priests. Two of my men had
asked to be allowed to buy straw for our mules, but the
headman of the village had refused without any reasonable
excuse. Then the Ladakis held a council of war, armed
themselves with bludgeons and tent-poles, and moved out
in close order against the inhabitants of Tashi-gang. I
was just writing in my tent when I heard loud shouts and
war-whoops from the village. I went out with my field-
glass to find out what was the matter. The fight was in
full swing, and it looked really serious. Stones rained
down, clubs whistled through the air, and the sons of
Ladak and Tibet beat one another heartily in a closely
packed crowd, which now and then disappeared in a cloud
of dust. It would have been a pity to disturb them
while they were so hard at work. Sometimes a man was
shot head foremost out of the struggling throng, but he
soon got up and plunged again into the melee. After they
had pounded one another at close quarters for three-
quarters of an hour they seemed to grow tired of the game,
for they separated into smaller groups, which had an
inexhaustible store of abusive terms at their command.
At length peace was restored and the whole party marched
to our camp.
The heroes, breathless, dripping with perspiration and
with clothes torn, took up a position in front of my tent,
each side shouting out its complaints and trying to drown
the voices of the other. My men from Ladak maintained
that the Tibetans had begun the quarrel, but the latter
swore by all the gods of Tashi-gang that the strangers had
attacked them with blows and buffets. I proposed to them
that they should drink tea and rest an hour, and then settle
36. Gar-gunsa Monastery.
37. Chhortex xear Tashi-gang.
;S. Tashi-gang Monastery.
VI
THE MONASTERY TASHI-GANG 51
the dispute by another combat in the moonlight. The side
that was then victorious should be held to be in the right,
and should receive its reward. But they had no stomach
for this. They stood confounded and went away. A
Tibetan with a bloody head was given a plaster for his
wound, and a rupee was slipped into his hand. The feud
had the excellent result that all the mules got straw.
There is a slight touch of psychology in this incident
so trifling in itself. Rabsang had been most violent, for
he was the strongest and wildest, and had no proper
feeling. Therefore he got what he deserved when I
scolded my men.
" As long as we were in the heart of Tibet," I said to
them, " you were always peaceable and well-behaved and
did no harm to the Tibetans. But now, when we are on
the frontier, at the last village but one and the very last
monastery, you do not control yourselves at all, but behave
like robbers."
" Sahib," answered Rabsang for himself and his com-
rades, " we have so often been annoyed when the Tibetans
have stopped you, that we have watched for an opportunity
of giving them a thorough hiding for once."
" Why should the poor people of Tashi-gang suffer for
the sins of others .f* Here no road has been closed to us,
and no harm has been done to us. Oh no, I know you.
Right in Tibet you dared not make a commotion, but here
on the frontier of Ladak, and in a small miserable village,
you have plucked up courage."
"Sahib," stammered Rabsang, "it was our last oppor-
tunity, and the main thing was that the people were
Tibetans."
" You are cowardly fellows, nothing else. Off with
you!"
So the heroes retired to their camp-fires where they sat
together till late in the night boasting of their exploits.
None omitted to tell the others how many Tibetans he had
struck and where.
Whether the scrimmage had made a deep impression
on the monks, or whether other Influences had soothed
their tempers, at any rate I was informed next morning that
52 TRANS-HIMALAYA
I should be welcomed in the monastery — without Ladakis,
but I must make haste that I might look into the temple
hall while the sun was still shining on the faQade, for only
from the threshold might I encounter the gaze of the
gods.
I entered the small court. On the stone steps and in
the anteroom with black draperies stood all the monks like
a guard. I asked them to move aside a little that I might
see the spirit kings, and the different pictures of other
temple towns which decorated the outside walls.
Grey curtains hung before the doors. Seriously and
hesitatingly an elderly monk came forward to draw them
aside. The massive doors, with their quaint brass mounts
and iron rings, were fastened, but the monk had brought
the key and he opened the ponderous lock. After he had
pointed out the place on the threshold where I was to
crouch down, he made the doors turn on their creaking
hinges, and the darkness of the holy of holies yawned
before me.
I shook my head. The monk smiled and said,
" Patience." Then some beams of light appeared, and
when I had become accustomed to the scanty illumination
I was able to distinguish the details. It was a small
temple hall well kept with all its simplicity. A forest of
painted tanka cloths with images of the gods hung down
from the roof, reminding me of regimental colours in an
arsenal, or of the trophies in an armoury. The tankas
deepened the gloom of the interior.
As usual, an aisle passes through the hall up to the
altar, bordered on either side by four red pillars draped
with ribands and coloured hangings. There, too, are
placed red divans on which the monks sit when they
perform the Lamaistic service, and murmur the daily-
repeated prayers. At the end of the aisle a pyramidal
stand faces the altar full of offering-bowls of brass and
small lamps fed with lumps of butter, their flickering
flames struggling vainly with the darkness.
Yigde is the name of the principal god whose praises
are sung in this sanctuary. He surmounts the altar,
painted on a tanka, and his countenance is buried in a
THE MONASTERY TASHI-GANG 53
thicket of votive scarves called kadakks. Beside him, to
the left of the spectator, stands a cast statue of the reformer,
Tsong Kapa, with mild, dreamy features. On the right
the unfathomable scriptures are stored on firm book-
shelves. The Ihakang of Tashi-gang, here called tsokang,
is only scantily furnished with idols, but the atmosphere is
dark and mystical, such as is generally characteristic of
lama worship.
When the monks murmur their prayers in the Ihakang
in a half-singing tone and at a bewildering rate, a lama sits
in the nianekang turning the great prayer-mill, which sends
forth from its interior innumerable " Om mani padme
hums " to plead for the mercy of the eternal powers.
The tea-kettle boils in the kitchen on the hearth of
masonry, and the ecclesiastical cooks appear like mist forms
through the thick clouds of steam. In the court before
the kitchen-door stands a Jila-ta77ichen or faggot, in which
every twig is hung with coloured strips and every fragment
bears the holy syllables. The bundle is housed in a cubical
niche, its walls decorated with gaudy and inferior paintings.
The lama superior of Tashi-gang bears the title of
Umsed, which properly signifies leader of the choir. He
had come here three years before from the large monastery
Sera near Lhasa, and he had still to complete a year's
service in far western Tibet. The rest of the brotherhood
are recruited in Totling, Chumurti, and other districts in
the neighbourhood. I was told that Tashi-gang formerly
belonged to Ladak, but that not long previously an ex-
change had been effected, in consequence of which Tashi-
gang is now under the authority of Sera while the
Maharaja of Kashmir has acquired some kind of right of
possession over Misser lying between Gartok and the
Rakas-tal.
" How do your monks get their living ?" I asked.
"We hire out a hundred yaks and as many sheep for
transport, and, besides, the Garpuns are bound to provide
us with all the parched barley (tsamba) we require."
" Then you live peacefully and free from care.'' "
" No ; Tashi-gang has seen better days, and has had
larger property. Then we had the means necessary for
54 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
keeping up our buildings. Now we receive barley sufficient
to maintain ourselves, and we have to let the monastery
fall into decay. The holy Yigde is a cruel, hard-hearted
god, and his service must never be neglected ; he must be
constantly appeased. The viceroys fear his power and
visit him annually with offerings. Nor do they neglect
their duty towards us, the servants of the god."
The outward decay gives Tashi-gang the appearance
of a mediaeval castle which is proudly enthroned on its
rock, something between a strong fortress and a ruin, a
memorial of a departed age. With every year that passes
over the stronghold of the god Yigde, decay leaves new
seams and gaps in the walls. From the broad frieze up
above under the eaves blood-red streaks run down to the
ground below. They are the work of the summer rains,
which have so disfigured the walls that here they are brick
red and there are tinged with pink. Here and there the
plaster has been removed, and chips of stone have fallen ;
in this case it is weathering, the change from burning sun-
shine to cold cutting frost, which has brought the cloister
walls a step farther on the way to destruction. The
streamers on the roof flutter in tatters that can hardly hold
together ; there it is the wind that lords it over the home
of the gods.
A small number of windows and a few loopholes pierce
the wall facing west. On the southern end the windows
are arranged unsym metrically, and a small balcony hangs
high above the ground, a quiet peaceful resort in this
otherwise dismal, gloomy cloister. Here is the labrang,
where the abbot dwells.
The whole monastery is formed of a long, irregular
collection of buildings and walls enclosing courts also of a
long shape. They are separated from one another by
small internal walls, and are also connected by doors
usually approached by steps, for the surface of the rock
is uneven. In the peripheral buildings are the cells of
the monks, and the whole edifice is dominated by the
Ihakang, the hall of the gods, on a polygonal ground-plan.
The mountains to the north-east and south-west rise
out of the valley in majestic imposing masses, in steps,
39- Camp ix the Indus Valley.
40. In Gar-gunsa. My Servant Rabsang in the Foreground.
42. Camp in Demchok.
THE MONASTERY TASHI-GANG 55
ridges, and summits. Tinted violet and yellowish-brown,
their outlines are sharply and vividly defined at all hours
of the day. At sunset the monastery glows bright yellow.
Then the shadows creep up the flanks until the highest
pinnacles shine in purple gleams. The Indus valley, up-
wards in the direction of Gartok and downwards towards
Ladak, presents a boundless perspective. The appalling
distances make one take deeper breaths, and one experiences
an oppressive feeling of being shut in between two immense
folds of the earth's crust — the Himalayas and the Trans-
Himalaya.
Owing to its breadth and its slow fall the river has a
grand appearance. We descend from the heights behind
on our way north-westwards, and therefore there is little
drift-ice, only a small border here and there along the
bank. At some places wild ducks are heard quacking, but
the wild geese have at this season no taste for Tibet, and
they will not change their abode again this year.
The bright scene in clear colours and sharp contours
became blurred in the afternoon owing to a violent storm
from the west, which rushed down on the valley, stirring
up great clouds of dust. The monastery looked as shadowy
as a ghostly castle through the mist, the surface of the
river rose in white foaming billows, and the ripples beat
solemnly against the bank.
So ended our second day at Tashi-gang. A liberal
present of silver rupees was distributed among the monks,
silver rupees with the crowned head of the queen — they
would not take the rupees with the uncrowned king's
head. I had to make amends in this way for the mis-
behaviour of my Ladakis on the previous evening, and,
moreover, I pitied the dreadful solitude of the priests in
their greyish-red prison walls. Did an unlucky fate com-
pel me to take monkish vows and spend my days in
Tashi-gang, I should die of weariness and disgust at the
unutterable dogmas opposed to freedom of thought of any
kind. In the cavernous darkness of the temple hall the
wicks of the butter lamps smoke while the sun shines
outside. I should even grow tired of the view from the
sunlighted balcony. The freedom of the Himalayas and
56 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, vi
the wild Sutlej valley to the south would irresistibly arouse
my longing. In summer it would be all very well, when
the liberated water of the Indus flows down the valley on
its way to the sea. But what of winter, when the river is
frozen over and silent, when snowstorms howl mournfully
round the corners of the cloister buildings, and when the
wind screams and whistles in the window openings as
though ghosts and hobgoblins were at play ?
< £> 4 .•>
rv^
/' "V
1 V -I--
,?^ i
-^rM^it
- ^- J^
t' '''^T^
i^'
.1,
-L^*-=^-'
c
43. The Monastery Tashi-gang.
1. From tlie West.
2. From the South.
3. From the East-South-East.
4. From the North.
Sketches by the Author.
CHAPTER VII
THE LAST DAYS ON THE INDUS
White wreaths and atolls of Ice covered half the river on
the morning of November 15. The air was clear and
calm, not a breath ruffled the water of the Indus, on which
sluggish eddies formed pleasing designs as they revolved
down to an unknown destination. Everything tempted
me to a boat voyage, and I would let the proud stream
carry me all the way to the next camping-ground. I
myself took my seat in the front half of the boat, and drew
every bend we passed on my map. In the stern half
Robert was responsible for the oars and the management
of the boat. Rabsang and Tundup Sonam accompanied
us on the bank with the horses.
Where the river is broadest the ice drifts down noise-
lessly and slowly. In the narrower windings the floating
blocks bump against the bank, and then a scraping noise
is heard again. Above us rise the crests of the lofty
mountains, and the land is still and peaceful. The temple
fort of Tashi-gang on its hill is visible for a time, and is
then concealed by the bank terraces and the inequalities
of the ground.
The water is not quite clear ; the depth varies generally
from 23 J to 27^ inches, and the bottom can be seen only
through 20 inches. The bed is regularly formed. Some-
times we float over water a foot deep, and then the bottom
seems to move up, and the boat stops. The drift-ice
warns us of shallow places. Where the porous ice blocks
are piled up in hummocks in the middle of the channel
we steer past the shoals where the current is broadest.
57
58 TRANS-HIMALAYA
The river is remarkably straight and the bends that
occur are far from sharp. We sail along the cliffs of the
right side of the valley from which boulders and pebbles
have fallen into the becl. Here a series of beautiful scenes
are displayed, and we glide along a pathway full of crystals
glittering in the sunshine. A light south-easterly breeze
drives us forwards. I enjoy to the full the rest, the
beauty of the country, and the consciousness that I am
borne along by one of the most regal rivers of the world.
The bank on our side is silent and desolate. Occasion-
ally only are seen mani walls or a small ring fence of stone,
within which some hunter is wont to lie in wait for
antelopes. Farther down a herd of yaks is grazing, and
two of the animals get wind of us and sniff with an air
of surprise. Yonder at the bend a fox prowls about, his
mouth watering at the sight of a flock of chattering ducks
that are swimming by the opposite bank.
Terraces lo and 14 feet high confine the river bed,
and bear witness to a more abundant precipitation in
earlier times. The fall is slight, and seldom do we hear
the water murmur gently at a bend. At a projecting point
of rock rapids are formed and we are drawn in at a swift
pace among treacherous blocks.
The day is cool, and it is a chilly pastime to sit hour
after hour in a canvas boat among the drift-ice. Now we
skim with great velocity along the foot of a precipitous
cliff, and excitement makes us hot. Bushes grow in
sheltered fissures, but otherwise the banks are bare. We
often pass deserted camping places which are visited by
nomads in summer. On a steep acclivity near us some
wild sheep are feeding.
A row of small cairns was erected on a promontory.
Between some of them strings were stretched, and a
solitary Tibetan with his gun on his shoulders moved
about setting his nooses. When antelopes see their path
crossed by such a contrivance they cannot make up their
minds to spring over it, whereby they would escape, but
they run along the row of cairns to the end, just where the
hunter has laid a snare on the ground, if he is not lying in
wait himself.
THE LAST DAYS ON THE INDUS 59
Wind ahead, our course is checked ! Tundup Sonam
must come aboard and help to row. The drift-ice is
carried by the wind to the right bank, and makes more
noise than before. The thermometer at one o'clock falls
to freezing-point in the water. The drift-ice maintains
its hold. It gains ground from day to day as the
winter draws on, and at last comes a day when a trans-
lucent bridge spans the river with its vault from bank to
bank.
We glide at a rapid pace over shallow water, the keel
grazing the gravel at the bottom, and lo ! now we are fast
aground. The drift-ice sweeps past us and bumps against
the fragile boat. We row with all our strength, float off at
last, and drift again down the Indus.
On the right opens the portal of the Potao-sang valley,
with a brick-red mountain peeping out from its background.
Through this valley runs a way three days' journey long to
Rudok on the Panggong-tso.
The current becomes swifter among a succession of small
rapids. The river narrows with the valley, and we shoot at
a dizzy speed to the new camp where strong hands hold up
the boat. Then we make ourselves once more at home on
a foreign shore.
Two fine specimens of the Ammon sheep were grazing
on a slope, and Tundup, the hunter, wished to try his
luck again. He made a d6tour through furrows and dells
up to the ridge to catch the animals from the rear. I saw
him through the field-glass sneaking along like a panther,
and seeking cover behind the inequalities of the ground.
But the senses of the animals are extraordinarily sharp.
Suddenly I saw both raise their heads and gaze in the
direction of the hunter. The wild sheep turned as at a
given signal and dashed furiously down the steep rocky
declivity. It was a grand sight to watch them come down
in a cloud of dust to the level ground, and in two seconds
ascend with unchecked rapidity the flank of another projec-
tion and disappear behind its top.
I A raging storm from the south-west howled through
the cordage and tore at the tent cloth when we woke next
morning. Dust and withered grass whirled into the tents.
6o TRANS-HIMALAYA
the sky was covered with dense clouds, and the weather
was raw and chilly when we rode away.
The valley contracts, its bottom becomes hillocky, and
is covered with pebbles. The river keeps obstinately to
the right side, but on the left, 80 feet above the valley
bottom, stands a very old terrace, rounded by time and
often broken through by side valleys. Beyond the side
valley Tavuk, the mountains on the right side of the Indus
valley become steeper than before, and here also are seen
fine terraces in which a horizontal bedding of the detritus
is plainly perceptible.
Beyond the hill Tsenmo, with its now empty summer
camp, lies a row of mani walls, now more and more
resembling in form those found in Ladak — long walls of
boulder stones covered with flat slabs.
Rolled stones play an important part in the country
which we have now reached. The whole of Demchok,
the last village on the Tibetan side, is built of them. It
consists, however, of only four or five huts with brushwood
roofs. Walls of boulder stones also surround the miserable
fields of barley, the sheep-folds, and the level floors of hard
stamped earth where the grain will presently be threshed.
A tattered old man and a famished youth were the only
inhabitants that showed themselves. Our mules strayed
about the stones nibbling at the refuse and sheep's dung,
and the scanty grass growing between the springs and ice-
flakes on the river strand was little better.
Our Tibetan guides looked upon Demchok as the
frontier of the states of the Maharaja, for the power of
the Devashung and the Dalai Lama, they said, extends no
farther. Really, however, the frontier is a short day's
journey farther down. My Ladakis were delighted, but I
was grieved at leaving Tibet behind me with so many
problems unsolved. But I was determined that I would
be in the unknown land again a few months later.
On November 17 we bid farewell to the last village in
Tibet, and ride down the detritus fan of Demchok to the
bank of the Indus. F'ishes lie in close shoals under the
belt of ice attached to the margin, and when they are
frightened away by stones they return at once, probably
THE LAST DAYS ON THE INDUS 6i
because the water is warmer under the cover of the ice-
flakes. The valley assumes a peculiar form ; while the
road continues straight along the left side, the river makes
a curve to the north and north-east to pass round an
isolated ridge through a wild bed it has excavated along
its foot.
The ground falls sensibly. Barrenness and desolation
everywhere ! Now comes a herd of yaks on the march
from Ladak. It was good to see at last some life on this
road, which, indeed, shows signs of no little traffic between
the two countries, but on which we had hitherto been
alone.
A cairn marks the highest point of a small swell in the
ground, and the usual streamers hang on strings stretched
between sticks. Our Tibetans march round the cairn to
show reverence to the spirits of the earth. In the distance
a huge light-blue and white mountain mass appears, not
far from the village Chushul, which is five days' journey
off. Numbed by the stormy wind which has blown right
in our faces during the last hours, we are glad to see at
last our tents pitched at the spring Na-gangkal (camp
261), and to hurry under their sheltering roofs. The place
was bare enough. There was water in abundance but no
pasture at all, and not a scrap of fuel. We therefore
sacrificed two boxes which were worn out.
Two dogs deserve honourable mention. We had nine
four-legged sentinels, a guard of Asiatic tramps, pariahs,
which had come and offered their services without waiting
for an invitation. In the case of most of them we could
not find out where their homes were and where the tents
stood which they had deserted to follow us. The Brown
Puppy was the only one which had shared in all our
adventures. She was a veteran from Srinagar, but her
days in our service were numbered, for she was lost in a
storm the next winter. She had her corner and felt rug in
my tent where she slept at night. She used to tease in
perfect friendship a yellow dog from Gartok, and he was
her unfortunate companion in the storm.
Among our old friends was also the aged limping camp
watcher from the country north of the Ngangtse-tso, who
62 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
had been with us about a year. His coat hung down to the
ground and he looked hke an old yak, and he could not run
like the others but crawled along step by step. He started
in the morning with the laden yaks, but was soon tired and
lay down beside the road to wait for me. Then he kept
me company as long as his strength allowed, and laid
himself down until Tsering came up in the rear with my
tent and kitchen utensils. Finally he dropped behind
Tsering also, and turned up a solitary wanderer at a late
hour in the camp, breathless and panting. In spite of his
unattractive appearance and his infirmities, or perhaps
because of them, he enjoyed greater popularity than any
other member of our foreign legion. Puppy played with
him, jumping over him as with drooping head and
shuffling steps he struggled to get over the long journey.
When all our dogs barked together at night it was not easy
to get any rest.
We set out on another day's march. The cold in the
night has sunk only to 10.2°, but the river is frozen over
here and there in quiet places. Beyond a yellow quartzite
promontory the Indus returns to the part of the valley we
travel along, and the beauty of the landscape is enhanced by
the crystal-clear bluish reaches of water vainly contending
against the cold of winter. At Puktse, where a bush grows
here and there amongst the withered grass, a small ice
bridge spans the river and cracks when my men test its
carrying power.
Rich in colour and enchanting in spite of its terrible
desolation, the landscape lies under the bluest of skies in
which not a cloudlet or rising mist is to be seen. There-
fore distance and perspective are unaffected by disturbing
influences in the atmosphere. A countless number of spurs
of the mighty ranges that enclose the valley appear in
succession in front of us to the north-west. Between them
flows the famous river by whose bank we tramp along the
endless road to Ladak.
At Puktse our Tibetan escort had fulfilled its task and
was to return to Gar-gunsa. They had accompanied us to
prevent digressions along forbidden roads. Nevertheless,
I was pleased to reward them liberally, for their conduct
THE LAST DAYS ON THE INDUS 63
had been beyond all praise, and they had obeyed the orders
given them and performed their duty.
The Gova and the whole population of the neighbouring
village of Kuyul came to wait on us. They were all polite
and agreeable but poor and wretched, since a robber band
from the Tibetan side of the frontier had shortly before
thoroughly pillaged their small community, the extreme
outpost of the states of the Maharaja. The people had,
indeed, addressed complaints to the authorities of Ladak,
and these had promised to do their best, but the best that a
district judge in Leh does is — nothing at all. The good
folks of Kuyul are subjects of the famous monastery of
Hemis. In outward appearance they resemble the last
Tibetans except in clothing. Their skin coats hang down
and are not drawn up and puffed out above the girdle as in
Tibet. Their headgear is the characteristic Ladaki cap of
sheep-skin, which can be turned down to protect the ears
and the nape of the neck.
The men of Kuyul stayed over night in our camp,
finding free quarters under the open sky. These sons of
the wilderness are, indeed, accustomed to cold, but they
must feel it through their ragged skin coats when the
thermometer falls to 5 degrees below zero. They looked
like ruffled horned owls when we left them to their fate in
the morning, accompanied by the Gova and two of his men.
The Indus, which hitherto has stuck faithfully to the
foot of the Trans- Himalaya, now flows down the middle of
the valley and winds more frequently between its bushy
banks. The ground is covered with the coarse sand
produced by weathering, which remains after the wind has
finished its sorting work and has carried away the finer
drift-sand. We often ride over barren stretches as level as
the finest parquetry flooring. Such is the ground where
silt in microscopic particles has been deposited by rain-
water in shallow hollows.
j An excellently built stone wall with slabs bearing large
{letters in red and white is named Mani-tumtum. Not far
from it the caravan crosses the river at a point where the
flakes of drift-ice have been thrust over one another and
frozen together into a firm mass.
64 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Accordingly the camp (263) Dungkang is on the right
bank. Here the river was 259 feet broad ; its mean depth
was 18. 1 inches, while its maximum was 31, and its velocity
14.2 inches. The Indus here carried about 460 cubic feet
of water, and had therefore lost quite 1 20 feet since we last
measured its volume. At this season the cold increases
day by day, the springs cease to flow, and the tributaries
freeze up. F^arther west, however, in Ladak, the river
increases gradually, and at Nurla its volume in January is
greater than at Dungkang in November.
Another day's journey on November 20 without any
noticeable change. The eye falls on the same mountain
masses to the south-east which we remember at Demchok ;
to the north-west the snowy group we have seen so long
grows larger. Left and right tower the huge chains we
have been familiar with since our halt at Gartok, and in
the middle of the valley meanders the river which has
supplied us with water for the past two months. Now a
sheet of ice covers most of the Indus. But snow is still
absent even from the flat hilly crests of the Trans-
Himalaya, and on the Ladak range small remnants of
snow remain throughout the year only in shady ravines.
Grass now grows everywhere, and here and there bushes
also stand fairly close. But no tents, no huts, neither
herdsmen nor herds ! Where the river crosses over to the
left side of the valley we pitch our camp on its bank for
the last time.
At this camp, which is numbered 264, the Indus is
almost free except where small strips of ice skirt the brink.
The dark blue water glides along lazily in noiseless eddies
and spiral dimples, and forces its way south-westwards in
a transverse valley through the Ladak chain. To the
north-west we catch sight of the Tsake-la pass on the
watershed between the Indus and the Panggong-tso. It is
not a pass on a crest but a flat neck between two mountain
ranges, the Trans- Himalaya and the Ladak chain. <
The old west wind with cutting frost and icy cold
howled over the banks of the Indus, and would have
swept our tents into the river if we had not secured them
extra firmly with ropes. The constant west winds of the,
THE LAST DAYS ON THE INDUS 65
Chang-tang had again commenced their lively dance over
the highest elevated region of the world. I recognized
their mode of attack, and understood that the storm
challenged me to share his dominion with him. And I
smiled over the camp-fire at the thought that I had already-
accepted the invitation, and that the new caravan which
was to lead me up there would listen in a few days to the
first reveille. " Choose between the winter of Tibet and
the perpetual summer of India," whispered the wind in the
grass by the Indus bank. I had already made my choice
without hesitation, and yet I experienced a certain feel-
ing of self-pity as I thought of the terrible cold that
awaited us.
In violent gusts the wind rushes over us and rolls in
wild cascades down from the heights. We close our tents
and creep into our lairs, while a roaring tumult rages out-
side all night long.
CHAPTER VIII
IN LADAK FOR THE LAST TIME
After nearly i8° of frost in the night the west wind
waked us with its roar on November 21, and our path led
us into higher regions again from the bank of the Indus,
where we lay in camp 264, at a height of 13,71 1 feet above
the level of the sea. The grass of the steppe, now turned
yellow, stands thickly on the clayey soil in which drift-
sand is also abundantly mixed, which at times forms dunes
with ridges turning along the mountain flanks northwards.
Many dunes, however, are compelled by the grass roots to
give up their wanderings.
The valley by which the Indus breaks through the
mountains remains behind us to the left, and the path
winds up to the pass Tsake-la. Grey and purple debris of
granite, porphyry, and quartzite covers the ascent, which is
not very steep. Here nothing grows. There is only a
small oasis, Tama-yaghgang, where grass and bushes
surround a spring.
The northern mountains are built up of green and violet
porphyrite, but higher up grey granite prevails. To the
south smoke rises from the stone huts of the village Salma,
in the midst of barley-fields. We approach the Tsake-la,
but ere we have reached it we halt for the night at the
springs of Dunglung, which form flat ice-flakes among the
thriving grass. The height is 14,597 feet, and therefore
we have mounted 886 feet from our last camp on the
Indus. From here we can perceive in the distance the
mountains round Demchok. The Indus valley stretches
in endless perspective to the south-east, its bottom tinted
66
44- A Girl of Chushul.
Sketch by the Author.
cH.viii IN LADAK FOR THE LAST TIME 67
yellow with the colour of the steppe, but the river itself we
cannot see for the distance is too great.
Next morning we are up in good time at the pass
Tsake-la and its cairns adorned with horns and streamers.
Here the height is 14,840 feet, and the wind is cutting at
a temperature of 23°. We hurry down on foot to bring
our blood into circulation again. Valleys, rocky promon-
tories, and 7na7ii walls succeed one another, and the scanty
vegetation struggling for existence forms yellow patches
round the springs. The lofty snow-covered mountain we
have seen so long is now near to us, but its firn-fields are
hidden by intervening heights. The Panggong-tso is not
visible, though the crests rising from its northern shore are
in sight.
We descried from the pass the projecting mountain
behind which our camping-ground for the day lay at the
village Chushul. But hours passed and the day declined
before we reached it. The path follows the left side of
the valley. A succession of projecting heights appeared
in front of us. The sun sank and the shadows grew
longer. Again we rode past a jutting rock. Was not this
the last ? No, still appeared ever fresh promontories on
the road, and the wind was so icily cold that we had to
walk to keep warm. Twilight deepened, the road became
less distinct, the wind rose still more. Should we reach
our destination by this road ? Four long mani walls and a
small chhorten indicated the proximity of a monastery, but
we could scarcely see them for it was dark.
At length the last mountain spur was passed, and the
fires of the camp at Chushul flashed before us. The
brook of the little village was half frozen over. The horses
slipped and slithered over rounded ice-humps, plumped
; into the water, balanced themselves on the uneven bottom,
and at last with a jump reached the grassy slope of the
farther bank. We were tired and frozen as we turned our
steps to the fire and lighted our pipes.
We had deserved a day's rest, and the headman of
Chushul did all he could to pay honour to his far-travelled
guests. The entertainment, which a European can hardly
escape when he is a guest in a Ladak village, began before
68 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
noon. In July 1906 dancing and music festivals had been
held in my honour in every village on the way to Leh, and
now on my return the rural performances began again.
The twelve beauties of Chushul danced in slow rhythmical
time in front of our tents. They were dressed in green
and red sheep-skins, finery of all kinds bedecked their
tresses, and ribbons adorned with turquoises fell from their
crowns down their backs. Their eyes were turned to the
ground and their expression showed no passion, no joyous-
ness ; sometimes they raised their right hands, sometimes
their left, and they turned themselves round as they slowly
advanced in Indian file. They were certainly not lovely,
these ladies of the mountains, but they made up for it by
dirtiness, shyness, and modesty. There was no hurry with
the ballet in Chushul. They danced for hours, and the
dance presented no surprising or alternating modifications.
An old man accompanied it on a string instrument ; and
as the only drum in the village was cracked, our kitchen
staff brought their most sonorous saucepans to enhance the
brilliance of the festival.
The sights of Chushul are soon enumerated. The
village consists of some twenty huts and two temples, the
one at the foot of the hill, old and in ruins, while the other,
Lundup-Chiiding-gompa, has been built on a rise at the
expense of a wealthy man, whose son, the lama Kunchuk
Tingsin, now provides for the upkeep of the monastery. I
was told that thirty monks served in the temple, but that
they nov; lived scattered about, each in his own home, and
that only the superior was then in the cloister ; his portrait
is in Vol. II. p. 216, Illust. 284.
In the other temple courtyard a streamer pole and a
chhorten stand between dilapidated huts containing monks'
cells. The fa9ade is whitewashed, and the antechamber,
with the indispensable spirit kings, is closed by a red-painted
wooden grille. The temple hall is well provided withj
images, some life size, others rather smaller. The sunlight
penetrates in above their heads more freely than elsewhere
through a quadrangular opening. A passage runs round
the group of gods, along which the pious make their
rounds. In the middle of the group sits Guru Rinpoche,
■ifl^i-'X->
o <
O -^
IN LADAK FOR THE LAST TIME 69
with a grey mask in his hand, and round him stand in
inextricable confusion Tsepakmet, Chenrezi, Tsong Kapa,
in red mantle and pointed yellow cap, and several statues
of lamas with dreamy meditative countenances.
The superior told me that a short time before thieves
had broken into the cells of the lamas and carried off
articles to the value of 200 rupees. The robbed priests
knew how to take care of themselves. To make up
for their loss they extracted some precious stones from
the statues of the gods and sold them to dealers in the
neighbourhood. This theft, however, was detected, and
a thorough investigation had been commenced into the
conduct of these pious desecrators of the temple.
At evening the ballet was repeated. But this time my
men were the hosts at their own fires. There was dancing,
singing, and cither- playing, tea-kettles boiled, and the
chang jugs filled with the light beer of the country made
their rounds. The brave men were lively and excited ;
they were home again in Ladak, to them the finest country
in the world, the country where their mothers had carried
them in their arms, where their fathers had hunted the
ibex and wild sheep among the rocks. Home-sickness
was over and all the trials they had endured were forgotten.
But the songs were the same that they had sung in Chang-
tang, when the storm howled round the tents and the fiames
of the camp-fires fluttered and flickered like bunches of
streamers on temple roofs.
The next day, on November 24, we rode away from
I the houses of Chushul and the frozen canals, which during
the warmer seasons irrigate the barley-fields of the village.
On this road also stand numerous mani walls looking like
petrified railway trains. The road runs uphill north-west-
wards, and on the right rises the mighty snowy mountain.
Down below at its foot trips along a sheep caravan,
500 animals laden with barley on their way to Rudok.
Some of them are painted red and look like bleeding sacri-
ficial lambs. In front marches a wether with his eyes
constantly fixed on the path, while the whole herd follows
him listlessly, half asleep, but dexterously balancing their
loads. The shepherds that bring up the rear can quite
yo TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
depend on the toiling animals keeping on the path to
Rudok.
We ourselves work our way laboriously up to the pass
Kongta-la, a pebble-covered saddle 16,605 ^^^^ above sea-
level. My men burst out with a loud yell of delight before
its conical cairn and its votive pile of horns, stakes, streamers,
and rags.
The valley Ar finds its way hither from the south-v^^est
through a cutting in dark porphyrite rocks, here filled with
boulders and there leaving room for a path beside the
brook which is frozen to the bottom. In the mountains on
the north-east side of the pass grey granite predominates.
The fall from the Kongta-la north-westwards is imper-
ceptible. We pass six tents and two flocks of grazing
sheep before we pitch our camp at the rocky promontory
of the Lung-kongma valley.
The day was dull, grey, and cold, but at sunset the sky
cleared in the west and the mighty masses of the granite
mountain glittered like the reddest gold.
Another day breaks over the earth, the tents are folded
up, the horses are saddled, and we continue our long
wanderings. The valley falls more steeply and its bottom
is full of granite blocks troublesome to pass, among which
a brooklet murmurs under its crystal roof of ice. It grows
gradually, receiving tribute from all the springs in the
valley, until at length it unites with the Shyok, the great
affluent of the Indus. At one place where we cross the
brook the ice mantle is thin and transparent as glass, but
nevertheless bears the horses as they are led carefully one
by one over a sand-strewn path.
The day comes to an end, and the valley is again
shrouded in shadows while the sunbeams are still gilding
the lofty summits around us. A huge sheep caravan is
encamped, and its owners have piled up the sacks of barley
into walls ; in their shelter the evening fires blaze cheer- [
tully and pleasantly. A second caravan has not taken the
trouble to remove the loads from the sheep, and the
animals have to pass the night with the sacks on their
backs. We, too, camp near them, in a place called Sara.
Here the warrior chief Soravar Sing defeated the Tibetans,
47- On the Kongta-la.
48. The Village of Drugub.
49. Chhortexs in Drugub.
IN LADAK FOR THE LAST TIME 71
as he some seventy years ago took Ladak from the
Maharaja of Kashmir.
We noticed daily that we were approaching civilization.
At every camp we met horsemen with news of my new
caravan which was to assemble at Drugub. They brought
also welcome additions to our provisions — fowls, eggs, and
apples, and one of them handed me a kind letter from my
old friend, Colonel Sir Francis Younghusband, who was
then Resident in Kashmir.
November 26 was the last day I was in the company
of my old servants. We follow the brook in the usual
order of march. The path, however, climbs gradually up
a small rise and remains at a considerable height above
the valley floor. The landscape is wild and imposing.
At our feet the brook creeps under its ice mantle. The
narrow path covered with blocks and rubbish runs along
the precipitous edge like the eaves of a roof. During
a short halt we roll some loose boulders over the edge of
the road. They thunder in mighty leaps, twisting as they
fall down the steep walls, and with a tremendous noise
smash to pieces the ice of the brook.
Now there is a rapid descent. We recognize more
and more clearly the wild-fissured vertical sculpture that
characterizes all the side valleys of the Indus. A cluster
of huts surrounded by their fields, thin poplars, and the
usual symbols of Lamaism in stone, bears the famous name
of Herat. Chilam is a village a little farther down, where
our yaks can only be induced by coaxing and threats
to trust themselves on a swinging bridge of stone slabs
supported by two tree trunks.
The valley becomes wilder and more enchanting the
farther we descend. The uniform monotony of the plateau
country is no more, but we find ourselves in a country
where the rivers succeed in breaking their way through the
stupendous mountain masses which stand in their way.
More frequently we perceive traces of the struggle of man
with uncontrolled Nature. The path is more clearly trodden
out as it twists in thousands of bends among the trouble-
some boulders, the fields increase in number and extent,
and the ever-present mani walls cry to heaven from the
72 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
depths of the valley. Here and there landslips have
occurred on the precipitous walls, and on our left open
three side valleys together, all contributing their shares to
the water of the main stream. The erosion terraces are
well developed, their lowest steps lying about 60 feet above
the brook. We can hear and see how these rivulets work
continually to cut their channels into the solid crust of the
earth and deepen the valleys.
We have reached an important point. The Ladak
chain, which we have so long had on our right, drops behind
us, and the brook turns sharply to the north-east to break
through a transverse valley in the chain which separates
us from the country of the Panggong-tso. This breached
valley is picturesquely hemmed in between high steep
granite rocks, and its fall is so rapid that ice has not
been able to form on the foaming rapids. Only occa-
sionally is there room for a hut and patch of cultivated
land.
In such a spot Tundup Sonam had his home. He
hurried forward to greet his old mother and his brothers,
and the whole family beamed with joy at the return of the
bold hunter. They all stood by the road as I rode past,
and were rewarded with Indian silver money for their gift
of welcome, which consisted of dried apricots and bowls of
milk.
A party of horsemen appears among the huge granite
boulders. There they come, my old friends Anmar Ju and
Hiraman, to witness my fourth entry into Ladak and offer
their services.
The valley becomes still narrower. It is as narrow as
a cutting. The path winds up and down over the detritus
cones. Two chhortens are erected on the top of a block of
rock. At a very narrow spot two huge boulders have
fallen and made a bridge across the stream, and below them
a deep basin of dark blue water has been formed.
Now we are near the end. There lies Tankse in
its cauldron, and there stand the poplars under which
Muhamed Isa in August 1906 sewed together the black
tent and mended the mules' pack-saddles. The whole
village turns out to meet us. Everything is the same only
VIII IN LADAK FOR THE LAST TIME ^^^
that all is cold, frozen, and leafless, and the grand caravan
leader sleeps in his grave at Saka-dzong,
Here the circuit which we had for fifteen months
described through the interior of Tibet was closed, here
all ties were loosed, my old servants were dismissed to
their huts, and a new and serious chapter was commenced.
A few days later I was in the neighbouring village of
Drugub among new men. With them I began the hardest
journey I have ever accomplished in Asia. On December 4
we started for the Karakorum Mountains, crossed in mid-
winter with a temperature of — 40° the loftiest heights of
Chang- tang, and on April 24, 1908, were held up by
Dorche Tsuen, the Governor of Saka-dzong, and his men.
After much palaver I obtained permission to go my own
way, which of course took me up and down over the blank
space where the central chains of the Trans- Himalaya
raise their heads. Tibetan soldiers escorted me to the
Tarok-tso, where I had arranged a rendezvous with the
caravan leader Abdul Kerim and six of my men from
Ladak. Five Ladakis accompanied me, namely, Gulam,
Lobsang, Kutus, Tubges, and Kunchuk. This arrange-
ment, unpractical in itself, was forced upon me by the
Tibetans that they might keep a tighter hold of me.
I travelled westwards past the Teri-nam-tso, over the
Lunkar-la pass, 18,274 feet high, and came at last at the
Nganglaring-tso into country of which the pundits had
collected a few extremely meagre and indefinite reports.
The Selipuk monastery is the chief place in this part of
Tibet.
There I had to leave the reader in the second volume
of this book. The space at my disposal was filled up and
I could not describe my journey through the Sutlej valley
to Simla. And yet this route deserves description, for it is
one of the most beautiful, wildest, and grandest in the
world. The mighty river has excavated its valley right
through the chains of the Himalayas. Certainly the well-
known road from Rawal-pindi to Leh, which traverses the
same ranges, abounds in enchanting scenes, but it has been
constructed and improved by human hands, and solid bridges
cross the rivers. The route through the Sudej valley, on
74 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, vm
the contrary, has been for the most part left untouched, and
its beauty increases with every day's journey from the holy
lake.
The following chapters are devoted to the road between
Selipuk and Simla (see Vol. II. p. 399).
I
CHAPTER IX
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY
Half a year has passed over dreary Tibet since we started
from Ladak. Now our camp is pitched on the bank of the
river Sumdang-tsangpo, a river which derives its origin from
sources in the Trans- Himalaya, and mingles its fresh water
with the briny waves of Nganglaring-tso. During the latter
days we have ridden along among the rocks on the southern
shore of this lake, which the pundits had heard mentioned.
But the blue sheet of water, the pink irregular shores, and
the rocky islands which rise out of the salt lake, had never
been beheld by a white man.
It is midsummer. I write June 26, 1908, in my diary.
A year of adventures lies behind me, and only the re-
treat remains to be accomplished. I have with me four
Ladakis and a Tibetan, the excellent Lobsang, besides two
guides and owners of yaks, who have accompanied me
through Rundor-changma to Selipuk. Abdul Kerim and
his companions have not yet joined us, and we have
quite made up our minds that we shall never see them
again.
In the course of the day a violent wind has swept over
the country, and a litde rain has fallen. The season of the
south-west monsoon has not yet reached this lofty remote
region, and the Sumdang-tsangpo carries only 88 cubic
feet of water, but in consequence of its breadth and depth
has the appearance of a fairly large river. At ^ the left
bank the water flows clear and pure, but on the right it is
turbid and white as though milk had been poured into it.
Probably wild geese or gulls have stirred up the bottom
75
76 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
somewhere above the camp. At sunset the gulls sit in hun-
dreds meditatino^ on a mudbank, and shine in the distance
like chains of white pearls.
The interior of Tibet is a dry, barren, mountainous
wilderness, far away from all the seas of the world, and
higher above the ocean than any other country. The
traveller longs for water, and likes to camp on the shores of
bluish lakes or murmuring streams. Such a camp we occu-
pied now. The sea-blue surface of the great lake stretched
away northwards, and the river flowed a pace from my
tent. The Sumdang-tsangpo, however, does not murmur,
and could tell no experiences from its home in the Trans-
Himalaya to the sharply defined grass-grown banks which
scarcely rose above its surface.
A felt rug is stretched between two stakes firmly
rammed into the ground in front of my tent-opening, so
that I can sit cross-legged out of doors, as in a shady
verandah, and let the pencil or pen glide over the paper.
When it is too dark to work, and too early to light a candle,
I still sit there, smoking my pipe, and watching the heralds
of night chasing the fleeing day over the western mountains.
I am longing to go home. For two long years I have not
seen a European. Solitude is pleasant, but one gets tired
of it at last, and longs to see men of one's own race. When
the last bright gleam pales, and dusk is all around, it is
still three hours before night comes and puts an end to my
yearning.
I look back with singular melancholy on those endlessly
long evenings, when the ticking of my watch was the only
sign that time was passing. If I had only had books to
read ! But our baggage animals had broken down, and
my collection of books had long before been scattered to the
winds, one volume after another. Only a Bible, a Swedish
hymn - book, and Froding's poems were left. The Old
Testament helped me through many lonely hours. At last
our situation was so critical that Froding too was added
to the ballast we discarded. The leaves which I knew by
heart were torn out, but I could not retain in my memory
the contents of some of them.
Lobsang and Kutus, my teachers in the Tibetan
GULAM.
TUBGES.
kutus. loesang.
54. My Faithful Servants.
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY ^^
language, gave me their company every evening, and after
they had withdrawn I wrote down the words I had learned
in a vocabulary. Then Little Puppy came into the tent
to play a while with me — the black pup born in the Shyok
valley, which had had the giants of the Karakorum for
sponsors, and received its name at the font when there were
fifty degrees of frost. Gulam brought in a very simple supper
of mutton — always mutton. I had a thorough dislike to
this dish, and contented myself with bread. At nine o'clock
I read off the meteorological instruments, and a little later
Gulam tucked me up in my furs and closed up the tent.
Then came blessed night with rest and forgetfulness.
This particular night was cold for the season — 25°. So
it is in the height of summer at Nganglaring-tso at a height
of 15,570 feet. In the daytime the temperature may rise
in the shade to 59°. Then, with a calm air and a clear sky,
it is burning hot. But scarcely has the sun sunk when the
cold breath of night steals over the brow of the earth.
Early in the morning a pack of wolves made a fearful
commotion round the camp. They accused us of murder,
and wished to recover a cub which Lobsang had caught
and given for supper to our big watch-dog Takkar. Four
fully grown and as many young wolves prowled about the
farther bank where two mounted Tibetans tried to kill the
young ones. We had seen wolves in the country before.
They are very common here, and owing to their voracity
are a scourge to the flocks. Every one who kills a wolf
receives from the nomads who have suffered from the beast
a shanglung or wolf-fee. In one camp he receives a bowl
of tsamba, in another a silver coin, perhaps even a goat or
sheep. At any rate he reaps a good harvest.
I sit on horseback, my men go on foot, driving our
remaining baggage animals over the steppe, scantily
covered with grass, which separates us from the monastery
Selipuk. We see it before us in the distance. One is
almost tempted to take it for a curious vessel with masts,
rigging, ropes, and pennants, or even for a Viking ship
adorned with flags for a festival.
A whole village of black tents has sprung up on the
plain. The white tents indicate the presence of some
78 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
chief. We soon learn that the owner of the whole village
is the chief of the district Chokchu, which lies to the west
of the Dangra-yum-tso. At the Shovo-tso we had seen his
caravan on the march westward, and we knew that he and
his family and retainers were on a pilgrimage to Kang-
rinpoche. The Sumdang- tsangpo flowed between his
camp and the cloister hill, and we camped on the left bank
at the foot of the cloister hill.
Our situation was extremely uncomfortable. We came,
six ragged fellows, from no one knew where. I was
dressed as a Tibetan, though I had no longer the slightest
cause to preserve my incognito. I wore the Tibetan
costume for the simple reason that I had no other. How
would the monastery, or rather its monks, who had in all
probability never seen a European, treat us ? All had
heard of Younghusband's expedition to Lhasa, and knew
that the white intruders had shot down the Tibetans like
partridges. And now one of the white demons had come
hither. What would the chief of Chokchu say, who was
here in his camp surrounded by a retinue armed to the
teeth ? We might have avoided Selipuk if we had been
frightened, but we were not. We pitched our camp on the
bank of the Sumdang-tsangpo just between the chief of
Chokchu and the prior of the monastery.
We had scarcely made our tent ready when the Gova
of the village appeared attended Jby ten men. They took
their seats uninvited under my felt roof, and made a great
noise in their desperate endeavours to find out what country
I came from, India, Turkestan, or Ladak. A white man
in Tibetan dress ? They could make nothing of me.
" Question me, you fellows, and you shall get informa-
tion," I called out to them.
"What country are you from ? " was asked on all sides
at once.
" Peling " (European).
" Where do you come from ? "
" From India and Ladak, but I have been at Shigatse ;
from the Dangra-yum-tso, but I have roamed round the
holy lake ; from the east, but I have been in the west ;
from the north, but I have travelled all through southern
55- A Nomad's Tent.
56. Transport of Sheep's Wool.
57-
]\Iy Tent with the Awm-nu.
IX THE SELIPUK MONASTERY
79
Tibet, My main caravan has gone astray. Get it me
back."
They hardly attempted to understand such a complicated
answer. However, they understood so much, that we had
now come from the east, and had two young guides who at
the same time were the owners of our yaks. These were to
return to the Shovo-tso, and then we should have no means
of transport.
" We are on the way to Tokchen," I told them. " The
Tibetan chiefs have provided us with baggage yaks and
guides from Saka-dzong. Now it is your turn to perform
your duty towards foreign visitors."
"We know of no such duty," answered the Gova.
" Selipuk is not one of the places which supply yaks to
travellers. Those who are marching to Rudok or the
gold-diggings in Tok-jalung change their yaks in Yumba-
matsen."
" Yumba-matsen does not lie on the way to Tokchen.
We must hire fresh animals here in Selipuk."
" We will gladly oblige you if we receive orders from
Lhasa. But you have not even a passport ; and we do not
know whether you have any right to wander about our
country."
" I can assure you that we have no right whatever.
But here we are and wish to go away. Give us yaks and
you will get rid of us."
" Let your guides from the Shovo-tso take you wherever
you wish to travel."
We talked and talked but came to no agreement. Our
fellows from the Shovo-tso would not accompany us farther ;
their Gova had ordered them to bring us only to Selipuk.
I had already been in the Yumba-matsen country. Now
I must cross the Trans- Himalaya for the eighth time.
Straight to Tokchen and then along the Sutlej to India.
I would not consider any other programme. We could
stay a couple of days at Selipuk, and, meanwhile, something
might turn up to our advantage. Abdul Kerim, the
scoundrel, who had our money-chest, might appear again.
No one had heard of him and his caravan. I could not
account for their disappearance. When we had paid for
8o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the hire of the yaks we should have only lo rupees in
hand. Then necessity would oblige us to barter a horse
for two sheep, a baggage yak for a sack of tsamba. I still
possessed two gold watches intended as presents for chiefs
who rendered us conspicuous services. Who lived here in
Tibet in such circumstances that he could buy a gold watch ?
I had paid ten pounds each for them. Now we might
have to sell them for bread and butter. Never had I been
in such straits in Tibet, poor as a pilgrim.
But wait ! here is a rich man, the Governor of Chokchu.
The gods of Tibet seem to have thrown a means of escape
in my way. I must try what I can do with him. Lobsang
and Kutus went off as an embassy extraordinary to his
tent, chiefly to see what he looked like at close quarters,
but also to inquire politely if he had any eatables to sell.
The chief made a deep impression on my men. He was
rich and a man of importance, that was evident. He
would not trade in eatables, he told them, but we might
have a loaf of sugar, and he would come next day to visit
us and see how we lived.
At the same time Kunchuk spied about in the monastery
where he looked up the Kanpo Lama, who is the prior of
Selipuk and, besides, the Pun or administrator of the
surrounding country. This man had spoken with great
caution, but he might perhaps sell us some tsamba if we
paid him well.
The day drew to a close and our situation was not
improved. Tibetans passed to and fro among the tents of
the chief of Chokchu, and his yaks, sheep, and horses fed
in herds on the steppe. Compared to myself he was a
Croesus. I could not give anything to the beggars who
sat before my tent.
In every camp and on every pass I used to draw a
panorama embracing the whole horizon. And so I did
here, in Selipuk, on the morning of June 28. Immediately
the sketch was finished a Tibetan who knew the country
was asked to provide material for the text. "There," he
said, pointing N. 30° W., " runs the road over the Sigge-la
to Yumba-matsen, which is two days' journey from here.
The mountains you see to the south-west are the Lavar-
58. On the Way to Selipuk Monastery.
59. (Jn the Way to Selipuk Monastery.
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 8i
gangri group (a part of the Trans- Himalaya) ; among those
mountains are the sources of the Lavar-tsangpo, which
flows into the western part of the Nganglaring-tso. And
the Sumdang-tsangpo rises close to the Sumdang-la, which
lies southwards from here." And he showed me also the
passes Oyar-la and Gebye-la, which are both on the Trans-
Himalaya.
While we were engaged in orientation I could see that
the chief of Chokchu was preparing for his promised visit.
Handsome white mules and small plump horses were led
to his tent and there saddled. The distance was only 200
yards, but the river was between us, and also he wished to
impress us with his pomp and state and a numerous follow-
ing. The wild troop presented a fine sight as it rode at
a smart trot to the bank and plunged and splashed through
the river. The chief and his brothers had panther-skins
for saddle-cloths, and the wooden frames of their saddles
were decorated with bright yellow metal studs and plates.
They themselves wore cerise mantles with long turned-up
sleeves, low leathern boots of Mongolian style, girdles
round the waist, and at the left side valuable chatelaines
with dagger and fire-steel on gold and silver chains. The
sabre was stuck across through the girdle, and its silver-
mounted scabbard was richly decorated with turquoises
and imitation coral.
My tent, which had suffered severely from many a
storm, was far too poor a reception-room for such illustrious
guests. The sun, wind, and rain in succession looked in
through innumerable rents, and the Pun of Chokchu and
his two younger brothers smiled at one another as they
took their seats on a ragged felt rug which had been spread
out for them. I sat myself on my bed which also was laid
on the ground. The furniture was of Jthe same style as all
the other things. Our boxes and our European things had
been smashed, and my belongings lay there stowed in sacks.
The eyes of the guests examined this curious interior ; they
had never seen the tent of a sahib so simply furnished.
They also gazed at my costume but would not at first ask
about it. Dishevelled Tibetan heads and sunburnt weather-
beaten roguish faces crowded the tent door.
G
82 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Sonam Ngurbu, the chief of Chokchu, was a man of
forty, short, but strongly built, energetic and yet simple,
bold and inquisitive, and yet reserved and polite. He is
one of the personalities in the land of snow which I cannot
forget. I see him still before me as he sat cross-legged in
my tent, bareheaded, and with a regular lion's mane of
black, thick, and no doubt very populous hair.
Sonam Ngurbu did not talk much. His questions were
short and clear, and after receiving an answer he sat silent
as though he were trying to grasp its meaning. After
a short time came the usual question, " Have you anything
to sell ?" Yes, certainly we had, and the Huskvarna gun
was brought out. We could well do without it as only two
cartridges were left. Unfortunately Sonam Ngurbu had
no use for a gun without ammunition. It might be worth
lO rupees, he thought. Many thanks, but it cost 300.
So the gun was put aside.
Now we tried to catch him with the gold watch. The
chief thought it bright and pretty, and could not conceive
how men could make such small fine things. The whole
escort now took it in turns to hold the watch to their
ears and listen to its tick. But at last Sonam Ngurbu
declared roundly that it seemed to him unnecessary and
superfluous to keep a little machine of the kind to measure
time. It was all the same to him whether it was eleven or
twelve o'clock. He divided his day according to the sun
and the weather, his occupations and journeys by the pas-
turage and the seasons. And, moreover, how could he
know that the thin yellow metal was really gold ?
The only thing that pleased Sonam Ngurbu was my
Swedish revolver. "Will you sell it me for 60 rupees .-* "
he asked. But my pride was aroused.
" What do you take me for ? Do you think that I am
a pedlar trapesing about to sell revolvers? In your
country where one is never safe from attacks I want a
revolver myself And 60 rupees more or less are of no
consequence to me."
Thus our honour was saved for the time, though we
were aware that we could not live long on honour, water,
and air.
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 83
The chief took farewell of the revolver and soon after
of its owner, rose, swung himself on to his panther-skin
and splashed again through the river accompanied by all
his motley crew.
The custom of the country and my own interests
demanded a return visit. Lobsang and Kutus were to
accompany me and interpret for me when my own stock of
words did not suffice. I wound my red turban round my
black cap, had the worst of the dust brushed out of my red
mantle, thrust a short sabre into my girdle, and mounted
my worn-out steed. To give my satellites a civilized
appearance was a hopeless undertaking ; they were and
remained landloupers. I, however, endeavoured in the
days of poverty and humiliation to retain a reflexion of
vanished greatness by outward composure and dignity.
Sonam Ngurbu came to meet me at the entrance of his
splendid tent, ornamented with festoons of blue ribands.
The ground within was covered with carpets — what luxury !
and square cushions were laid round a low table. Here we
took our seats, and an interminable palaver began.
"Where does your tent stand, Sonam Ngurbu, when
you are at home in Chokchu ?"
"In the country Kasang-tota, two days' journey to the
east of the Teri-nam-tso and one west of the Dangra-
yum-tso."
"How far is it from Kasang-tota to Selipuk ? "
" I have been fifty days on the way," he said.
From his description it appeared that he had travelled
along the north side of the Trans- Himalaya, and had to
cross only one pass of importance, the Ka-la, which lies not
far east of Nganglaring-tso.
"Whither are you now travelling, Sonam Ngurbu ?"
" To Tokchen, Parka, and Tarchen."
" How many days do you reckon it to Tokchen ? "
"Twenty."
" Then you must travel extremely slowly ? "
"Yes. We are not in a hurry. We remain several
days where the pasture is good for the sake of the
animals."
" How large is your retinue .'* "
84 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
" More than a hundred men, including an armed escort.
I have sixty horses, four hundred yaks of burden, and as
many sheep, of which many, however, are slaughtered
during the journey."
Our host told me further that he was a powerful and
respected man, not only in his own home between the lakes,
but also in the interior of Tibet, especially in the province
of Bongba. His reputation there was founded chiefly on
his ability to track out robbers and bandits with the help of
his horsemen. The Devashung, the government in Lhasa,
was on that account particularly well disposed towards him,
and applied to him when there was any trouble with
bandits. He had more armed horsemen under his com-
mand even than the Governor of Saka-dzong. When-
ever people had been attacked and robbed, he let loose
his men like bloodhounds, and they seldom missed their
mark.
On his journey to Selipuk also he had occasion to
exercise his office of chief constable of police. Cattle
thieves had played their pranks between the monastery
Chiu-gompa and Tirtapuri, and retreated with six hundred
stolen sheep to the mountainous regions of Bongba. He,
Sonam Ngurbu, had been informed, and had organized
a drive to catch the villains. As usual, he had succeeded
in laying his hands on the scoundrels, and he had now
arranged a meeting with one of the Garpuns of Gartok in
a district called Tashi-tse-buk, and lying west of Selipuk.
There the two potentates would discuss the robber question.
As Sonam Ngurbu was always at feud with freebooters
and knaves, he probably thought it safest to take all his
possessions with him when he was going on a journey.
" What is really the motive of your present journey ? " I
asked.
" I am on a pilgrimage to Kang-rinpoche ; there I shall
make three circuits of the holy mountain and one of the
holy lake. I make a pilgrimage thither every third year."
" What do you gain by it ? "
"Good fortune and prosperity for myself, my family,
and my flocks."
" And if you omitted the pilgrimage ? "
6i. Son AM Nglirbu.
62. SoNAM Ngurbu's Brother.
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 85
" Then robbers would pillage my tents, rain would not
fall, and my sheep would starve."
Sonam Ngurbu sat silent awhile, observing me closely.
Then he said :
" Our paths have crossed before. You, Sahib, may not
know it, but I have seen you often. I had been a month
in Shigatse when you came thither last year. In the press
of pilgrims during the feast days I could not have drawn
your attention. But I saw you going up daily to the
temples of Tashi-lunpo, and I heard that you were a friend
of His Holiness the Tashi Lama. I perceived, then, that
you are a man of consequence, though your caravan is so
small and unpretentious."
The good Tashi Lama thus came unexpectedly to our
help in a difficult situation. Sonam Ngurbu told every
one who would listen that he had seen me at the temple
festivals, and this increased my importance. It was under-
stood that I was not a man to be treated like any ordinary
knight of the road. No doubt, though poor and ragged, I
was a high lama from Western lands.
Now all I had to do was to procure money. I wrote to
Thakur Jai Chand, the agent of the Indian Government in
Gartok, begging him to send the necessary sum to Tokchen
where I should soon arrive. The only difficulty was to
send the letter without money. I told Sonam Ngurbu the
state of affairs fully, and asked him to send a man of his
numerous retinue to Gartok with the letter.
" If you were with me at home," he replied, " I would
willingly forward your letter, but here I am myself a
stranger, and it would cost me my head were I to meddle
with the affairs of another province."
While we were discussing the matter a servant came
in to announce that Jamtse Singe, the prior of the
monastery, was coming. We hurried out to see the show.
It was an exceedingly comical sight. His reverence walked
with slow solemn steps and bowed head, letting the beads
of a rosary slip through his fingers. He was not alone,
but walked in a procession. Beside him strode another
lama, two younger monks followed, and two novices came
last. In consequence of the mixture of affected simplicity
86 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
and pompous solemnity the procession was indescribably
ridiculous. The servants of the church, however, caused a
great stir among these children of the world, and inquisitive
Tibetans stood gaping at all the tent doors.
The prior did not vouchsafe us a single glance. He
stalked slowly past us, making for the tent tenanted by a
lama of Chokchu who was one of Sonam Ngurbu's followers,
Namgyal Dorche. First the church then the temporal
rulers !
But it was not long before another messenger announced
that the prior, this time alone, was on his way to Sonam
Ngurbu's tent. Then we went out again, and the chief's
brothers as well as some other gentlemen joined us. All
saluted Jamtse Singe with the greatest respect, bowing low
and throwing themselves on the ground. He passed his
hand in blessing from one head to another, and held out
both his hands to me.
Now there was much affectation, and many ceremonious
speeches were made on the question of who should occupy
the seat of honour opposite the entrance. Every one knew
that the seat was by right the prelate's, but the host had
much trouble to induce him to take possession of it. At
last he succeeded, and Sonam Ngurbu and I placed our-
selves beside him with the low table between us. I recog-
nized herein the Chinese ceremonial which does not at all
suit the natural rude character of the Tibetans.
On hearing the self-conscious bandit-catcher and the
right reverend monk pay court to each other in a flood of
flattering speeches, one could not help thinking that they must
be close friends and entertain unbounded respect for each
other. One would never imagine that they were really like
cat and dog. Sonam Ngurbu was superstitious, and had
a bad conscience like all pilgrims in Tibet. He feared
that the monk by cunning incantations might spoil all
the fruits of his pilgrimage and turn them to evil. This
was also why he had taken his own confessor with him.
Jamtse Singe, on the other hand, as he afterwards told me
himself, regarded the temporal chief as a spy, who might
at any time calumniate him to the Devashung in Lhasa.
Therefore, he was very reserved towards me as long as
I
o —
IX THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 87
Sonam Ngurbu was in Selipuk, or the latter might have
reported him for showing hospitaHty to a European.
Sonam Ngurbu did not change his bearing towards me
on account of his guest. On the contrary he dwelt on my
friendship with the Tashi Lama, and the prelate became
decidedly more affable. He smiled and listened with
interest as I enumerated all the monasteries I had visited
in southern Tibet and related some adventures. There
were several among the men present who could confirm
my statements. For instance, the steward of Selipuk had
been the year before in Raga-tasam, and a lama, twenty
years old, had been in Lehlung-gompa when I drew the
pillars of the temple hall. A man in the service of Sonam
Ngurbu had been present when Lundup Tsering and his
horsemen had protected the Dangra-yum-tso from my
intrusion. Here, then, were four men who had seen me
before at different places, and perhaps this was partly the
reason why no alarm had been raised at my arrival in
Selipuk. What could be done with such a bird of passage .-*
And, besides, a caravan of only six men with six horses
and mules could not be dangerous.
" Well, now, let me see at least the temple hall of
Selipuk," I proposed.
"Never! A European has never been here. If a
Peling were admitted into the hall of the gods all the
monks would die."
" Nonsense ! You have heard that I was repeatedly in
Tashi-lunpo, and that the Tashi Lama has not died in
consequence."
" Yes, he is great and powerful and can exorcise every
danger. But I possess no such power, and have no
authority to show the monastery to strangers."
Our conversation was interrupted by the cook, who
looked into the tent to announce that dinner was ready. I
never ate except in the morning and evening, but now out
of regard for my host I had to greet with a friendly smile
the china bowl in which the soup, the piece de rdsista^ice
of the meal, was served. Such a bowl was placed before
each guest, but the host had one of cosdy nephrite. The
soup was very strong. It contained solid pieces of yak
88 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
meat, rice, and Chinese macaroni, all flavoured with onions,
pepper, and salt. It was eaten with pewter and wooden
spoons, and the Tibetans, both laymen and ecclesiastics,
exhibited an enormous appetite. They held their soup-
plates close under their mouths, supped and smacked their
lips and fished the scraps of meat up with the spoons,
never removing their eyes from their food. They ate like
gourmets, silent and serious ; they might have been engaged
in a religious function which might not be disturbed by
everyday talk. For the credit of the cook, and as an
excuse for the gentlemen's appetites, I must say that the
soup was really excellent. Boiling hot and nourishing,
it spread an agreeable glow all through the body ; the
macaroni and rice were done to death ; the rest might be
left by one who was not armed with Tibetan fangs which
can chew to pieces tough yak meat and gutta-percha. The
Tibetans began with the meat, then scooped out the rice
and macaroni, lastly drank up the liquid, and put the empty
plates on the table again with a sigh and other Asiatic
noises betokening satisfaction. They did not remain long
there. The cook, who was watching at the tent door,
fetched them out, refilled them and placed them before
the guests to be cleared again.
After dinner the massive black teapot of burnt clay was
passed round. Dinner, indeed, is only an interruption of
the tea-drinking which goes on all day. The Tibetans
have a remarkable capacity for drinking one cup after
another of thick muddy brick-tea. I should have burst
if I had attempted to emulate their achievements in this
respect. The tea is of the poorest kind, the refuse and
small twigs from Chinese tea plantations. It is compressed
into brick-like blocks which are wrapped in paper, sewed
up in bales, and despatched to Tibet. The porcelain cups
also come from China. They are always tasteful and
delicate, and have generally saucers and shield-shaped
covers of silvered metal. The beverage is mixed with
butter, which floats in small yellow blobs on the top of the
tea. All who drink it have a shining ring of butter round
their mouths. When you have taken a drink the waiter
comes at once with the black pot to fill up the cup again.
~^r-
K-i>
b <
o -S
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 89
Sonam Ngurbu, puffed out and satiated, stark naked
down to the hips, and with waving hair hanging down over
his copper-brown shoulders in tangled locks, at last took
his long thin Chinese pipe, filled and lighted it, smoked and
puffed and filled the whole tent with the acrid fumes of bad
tobacco from Bhotan. The metal bowl of the pipe is small
and contains only enough tobacco for a couple of puffs.
When the fine yellow powder is burnt out, the pipe is
emptied by tapping it on a wooden disc attached to the
chatelaine, and when refilled is lighted from the embers
thus preserved. In this way the tedious business with
glowing coals and flint and steel is avoided in a country
where matches are still unknown.
Jamtse Singe had only the right arm bare. He wore a
violet vest with yellow borders and over it the usual blood-
red lama toga. His head was uncovered and his grey-
besprinkled hair was cut short. His portrait is on the
coloured plate facing p. 368 in Vol. H.
When Jamtse had enjoyed enough of the good things
of this world he said good-bye to Sonam Ngurbu, laid his
hand on his head to bless him, and returned to the tent of
the lama of Chokchu, whither I followed him. This prelate
was named Namgyal Dorche, and he was a small agreeable
and humorous man. He was also exceedingly picturesque
in appearance. He wore a yellow mantle with wide sleeves
over his red toga, a rosary wound twice round his neck,
and a silver case containing a small image hanging by a
string. A shield-shaped hat of gilded wood covered his
head and was fastened by a string under his chin. He had
on his nose Chinese spectacles with large round glasses of
rock crystal which gave him the air of a learned theologian.
With this colleague Jamtse Singe was frank and un-
embarrassed, and he even promised to do his best to get
my letter sent to Gartok.
Sonam Ngurbu had two brothers. The three had two
wives among them, which works out at two-thirds of a wife
per man. These ladies left much to be desired in feminine
grace, cleanliness, and youthfulness, and it is no wonder
that his share was enough for each brother. Their faces
were painted dark brown, they wore in their ears silver
90 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
plates and pendants of beads and turquoises, ribands hung
from their pigtails down their backs, whole sashes, with
shells, rupees, and silver ornaments sewed thickly on them.
How matrimonial squabbles are settled in such a singularly
composed family is hard to understand. Probably they do
not occur. In Tibet jealousy is unknown, and conjugal
fidelity is an unknown and superfluous virtue.
Not till dusk did Kutus go for my riding horse. Mean-
while I took leave of Sonam Ngurbu, who was sitting in
the women's tent with only ladies about him. Some of the
beauties who were not painted looked quite pretty, but they
are always substantially built and masculine.
Then I returned to my own home on the river bank.
There the Gova of Selipuk and his staff were waiting for
me. He had considered the matter and now promised to
send my letter to Yumba-matsen in two days, and thence
in nine days more to Gartok. It would be carried from
tent to tent and reach its destination over the Jukti-la.
The day abounded in varied incidents, and it ended in
an unusual manner. It was half-past six o'clock, I had
gone to bed, and the light was out. A violent gust of
wind swept over the country and was followed by a strong
earthquake. The first shock passed immediately into a
circular movement of the earth's crust. Then came a
vibration twice repeated, and finally a short tremble was
felt which became weaker and then ceased altogether.
Ten minutes later came a second shock, succeeded after
five minutes by a third. The first shock gave us a feeling
of uneasiness and insecurity. Kutus called out, " Ya
Allah ! " and the other men awoke and talked excitedly.
Only the dogs took no notice. This was the second time
I had experienced an earthquake during the twelve years
I had spent in Asia. The first was in the year 1895 ^^
Tash-kurgan on the Pamir.
No frost on the night of June 28 ; the minimum was
o"^y 33 • Two monks visited me, sent by the prior of
Selipuk, to inquire if I had felt the earthquake and what
it meant. Earthquakes had been felt before in this country,
but not often. They also wished to know if I could con-
trol at pleasure the weather, winds, and rain, and, if so,
IX THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 91
would I summon the rain-clouds to water the dried-up
meadows of Selipuk. But I assured them that I had
nothing to do with the precipitation, and could not alter
the paths of the winds and clouds. But one can always
prophesy, so I foretold heavy rains in the near future.
Fortunately I was right. The reader will soon be con-
vinced of this when we are beyond the holy lake. There
I often rejoiced as I heard fresh showers patter on the
slopes, and thought of my dear nomads and of the grass
that would spring up, sucking moisture out of the earth
to feed the flocks and bring general prosperity to the black
tents during the coming winter.
As early as about six o'clock the Tibetans of Chokchu
began to drive their yaks, sheep, and horses into camp
from the pastures. The great Sonam Ngurbu would con-
tinue his pilgrimage to expiate his sins by walking round
the holy mountain. But he would not leave without bid-
ding me good-bye, and honoured me with an early visit
to my tent, bringing me as a token of friendship a pre-
sent of sugar, rice, tsamba^ and delicious white Chinese
wheaten flour, which postponed the terrible moment of
starvation for a few days more. In return I gave him a
silver watch and chain, and we parted the best of friends.
It was an age before the immense caravan was ready
to march. The tethered yaks stood in long dark rows
waiting hours for their loads. The horses became im-
patient and made their way off to the pastures again.
However, the tents were taken down one by one and
packed up, and by eleven o'clock the van of the yak
detachment was ready to set off westwards. Half an hour
later the next column followed in the track of its comrades,
and still another after an hour more. The yaks grunted
and marched lazily under light loads in a closely packed
mass ; the drivers and leaders followed at their heels, some
of them armed with guns, others with a cudgel horizontally
across their backs and tightly held under their arms. All
marched bareheaded with light quick steps and whistled
merrily, shouted, and sang.
Then came the turn of the sheep which, nodding and
tripping like a lively brook, waltzed through the Sumdang-
92 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
tsangpo. Sitting under my felt awning I observed with
attentiv^e eyes this cheerful departure, this wandering of
men and animals to the mountain of the eternal gods.
The horses were again collected, and most of them were
saddled while the rest carried loads ; we counted sixty
of them.
At last the white and blue tent of the chief stood on
the plain alone, surrounded by a dozen horses and mules.
At the moment he stepped out we saw the tent lowered to
the ground, quickly rolled up with its poles and ropes,
packed on horses and carried away. When the pilgrims
were in the saddle I went off to the place where their path
crossed the river. The troop reached the bank in a short
gallop and plunged through the water to the spot where
I was waiting. Here all the riders dismounted except the
women. We once more said good-bye, expressed our
pleasure that fate had brought us together, wished one
another a good journey, and hoped to meet again at
Tokchen.
Then Sonam Ngurbu leapt on to his white horse, which
bore a coloured cloth under its saddle, and handsome trap-
pings, and was decked with tassels and other ornaments.
He had confined his unkempt hair under a red turban, and
round his neck he wore a rusty arrow-head, which brought
him good fortune in war and success in thief-hunting. At
his left side hung a large silver case, a portable temple, and
his sabre stuck out horizontally from his girdle. The wives
sat man-fashion on their little spirited horses, with their felt
boots thrust into the stirrups, and their hoods over their
heads. The rest of the troop were equipped as for a cam-
paign. They carried sabres and long lances with flat steel
heads, and polished strips of steel wound like snakes round
the shafts hung by straps from their shoulders. They
were also encumbered with clumsy muskets and their long
sharp-pointed forks, which would prick the eyes and ears
of their next neighbour if he did not look out. Now the
wild horsemen thrust their lances against the ground and
swung themselves into their saddles with the dexterity
of acrobats, and the troop dashed away in a cloud of dust,
and soon disappeared behind the monastery hill.
THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 93
After Sonam Ngurbu had gone the steppe looked empty
and desolate. Only two poor nomad huts stood there, and
two dogs rummaged about for offal.
Feeling lonely I went up to the monastery, the doors of
which had hitherto been as firmly closed to us as the Men-
dong and Lunkar monasteries before. But now they were
opened to me without hesitation. The nerpa, the steward
of Selipuk, came to meet me, and led me through a great
gate into a forecourt, where bales of provisions were piled
up against the walls, and were sewed up in yak hides with
the hair outside. The bales contained tea and barley,
tsamba and salt. The wooden saddles of the transport
yaks were heaped together in a corner. Various guns and
sabres hung on a wall in picturesque confusion. Evidently
Selipuk was prepared to defend itself in case of attack.
The nerpa told me that the cloister owned 61 yaks and
10 1 2 sheep, which were partly hired out to caravan, partly
employed by the monks on their own account. For the
rest the monks lived on the voluntary offerings of the
nomads. Three monks had attained the rank of a Kanpo,
six were Gelong, and three Getsid or novices ; besides
these there was the nerpa, who attended to their worldly
business.
A staircase leads into a cave-like room called simkang;
which is dim even in the middle of the day. On a bench
against the wall sat the prior entertaining Namgyal Dorche,
his brother in Buddha. They were feasting and drinking
tea. The guest from Chokchu held in his hand a leg of
mutton, and cut pieces off it, which were quickly crunched
by his strong teeth. The meat was raw, old, and dried,
and consequently as hard as wood. Dried peaches,
raisins, and sugar were placed before me. We talked and
jested together, but they would not let me into Buddha's
temple.
Then the visitor rose. He belonged to Sonam Ngurbu's
household, and must not be late in overtaking the others.
We accompanied him down into the court, where two
novices were waiting with three red-bridled horses. In his
red cowl with his gilded shovel hat above it, this bundle of
clothes was a splendid incarnation of the Lamaist cult.
94
TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
He said farewell politely to the prior and myself, and off he
went over the hill.
As long as a glimpse was to be seen of the departing
guest and his two companions, Jamtse Singe stood in
silence, but as soon as they disappeared his manner changed
as though by magic. He suddenly became another man.
With a sly smile he invited me to go up into the simkang
again, and there he was excessively lively. I understood him.
He felt now free from all supervision and espionage. He
was now sole master in the house, and could do as he liked.
The other monks also came in, and were equally delighted.
Then appeared my friend the village headman, accom-
panied by some other Tibetans. They handed me a lump
of barley-sugar and a copper bowl of milk, and then they
threw themselves down full length in front of me, touching
the ground with their foreheads, and behaved just as if I were
an image of Buddha. I asked in astonishment what this
conduct meant, and learned only too soon the answer to
the riddle. It was a long tale.
The sheep of the monastery had just returned from a
district in the north where a fine and much-prized china
clay occurs. They were laden with it, and were now to go
on to the fair at Gyanima, where the china clay was expected
to fetch two rupees a sheep's load. All the men of the
monastery were, then, required as drivers, and they must
withdraw their promise to forward my letter to Gartok.
I pretended to be enraged.
" Did you not tell me yourselves that there were 60
tents under the rule of the monastery } Did you not say
lately that the nomads brought the wood and water that
the monks required, and watched their flocks on the pas-
tures .-* And now you are supposed not to have a man free
to ride to Yumba-matsen."
" Forgive us, Sahib, all are now engaged. Permit us
to oblige you in some other way."
" Very well, I will forgive you if you show me the hall
of Buddha."
"With the greatest pleasure," cried Jamtse Singe rising
and drawing us all in procession to the Ihakang. The doors
were opened wide, and the mysteries were exposed to my
69. SoNAM Ngurbu leaving Selipuk.
70. SoNAM Ngurbu's Departure from Selipuk.
IX THE SELIPUK MONASTERY 95
gaze. But there was really nothing worth looking at.
The hall was small and dark. An assemblage of gods
stood on the altar table, among them Sakya-toba (Buddha)
and Tsong Kapa. All the usual strips and pictures hung
from the roof, and spears, sabres, and guns were fastened
to the pillars. The whole show was like a marine store,
a scene of religious still life faded and corroded by time
and covered with the dust of centuries. The shelves
were almost breaking under the weight of the holy books,
hideous masks grinned out of the corners, and two temple
drums stood between the pillars, waiting to rouse the
attention of the gods when the monks mumbled their
prayers in the day or night.
My stock question : " How old is this monastery ? "
was answered as usual with the words : "It has been here
from the beginning." This has the same significance as
the first words of the Bible and one thinks of an astounding
age. But when the prior subsequently admitted that a
Rmpoche or incarnation named Gerung Lama had founded
Selipuk, its age was considerably reduced. To judge by
its exterior the monastery can scarcely be more than two
hundred years old.
The portal of the Ihakang faces east as always.
Numerous inani walls surround the cloister compound, and
a wall which forms a forecourt and a fold for the sheep of
burden. There, too, lies the holy monastery dog chained
up, which barks whenever any one approaches.
At dusk I bade farewell to the friendly monks.
When night came on the sound of noisy music reached
my tent. Drums rolled, flutes were blown, and bells and
rattles rang. Service was being held in the hall of Buddha.
The noise died away, and Jamtse Singe came alone to
us in the darkness. He called out to us from a distance to
keep hold of our dogs that he might gain my tent without
being bitten.
" Do not be cross. Sahib," he said, "because I have not
returned your visit before. I durst not as long as Sonam
Ngurbu was here."
"It is of no consequence. You are always welcome.
Sit down and take tea with me."
96 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, ix
" When are you coming to us again, Sahib ?"
" Perhaps in two years," I answered, as if it were quite
a settled matter.
" Will you be so good then as to bring me two presents,
first a revolver and then some kind of salve which will
make hair grow. I intend to grow a moustache."
" What in the world do you, being a monk, want with
a moustache ? "
" Well, I was in Lhasa four years ago when the English
broke into the Potala, and one of the strangers assured me
that a man who wore a moustache could never fall ill."
" That is all a lie, I can assure you. But now, tell me,
have you kept your promise of yesterday and consulted
your holy books about the fate of my lost caravan ? "
" Yes, certainly. The books say that your servants are
alive and that all is well with them. They are now some-
where to the south of this, and in twenty days you will meet
them, or at any rate receive reliable news of the caravan."
Truly the answer of an oracle ! Within four-and-twenty
hours I was to have good reason for abandoning faith in
the utterances of Lamaist books.
Jamtse Singe was given a few trifles I was able to spare.
In return he gave me a tenga, barely 6d., adding that the
sum was certainly small but that the coin would have the
effect of a talisman ; as long as I retained it in my possession
I should never come to want. Then he rose, rubbed his
forehead against mine as a sign of friendship, and styled
me " Lama Sahib," or, freely translated, Doctor of Divinity.
After he had returned to his small close cell with a
hearth in the middle of the clay floor and chests and the
bed against the walls, we held a short consultation, and
decided to travel on next morning to Tokchen, though we
had no money and no provisions.
71. The Inner Court of Selipuk.
72. Entrance to the Selituk .Monastery.
CHAPTER X
THE MODELS OF KYANGYANG
The journey I commenced on June 30 was a reckless
undertaking. We could hold out a few days more with
the presents we received in Selipuk, and the two youths
who had accompanied us with yaks from the Pedang-
tsangpo fortunately allowed themselves to be persuaded to
travel a little farther with us. But first they wanted their
arrears of pay. After they had been paid out to them there
remained in our money-chest two small silver coins, a tenga
and a six -anna piece, amounting together to about a
shilling. The beggars who crowded round us at our
departure thought us stingy because we did not give them
even a copper farthing.
I do not know exactly what my thoughts were. I
seemed to be venturing ever farther on thin ice which
would break at last. The main thing was to keep the men
from Pedang as far as Tokchen, if possible, whence I might
be able to send a messenger to Gartok. But what would
happen if they struck in the middle of the Trans-Himalaya ?
Well, time would show. One can bear a great deal before
one dies, and we must make our way by some means or other.
So we marched past the monastery walls. There
Jamtse Singe came out, took hold of my horse by the
bridle, and led it for a time with his own holy hand. Then
he bowed his adieu, and soon the monastery disappeared
behind the hills and was included in the treasure of kind
friendly memories I retain of Tibet.
The path traversed an immense plain, the largest I
have seen north of the Trans- Himalaya. Three tents and
97 H
98 TRANS-HIMALAYA
some grazing yaks, otherwise quite lifeless. Hard grass
grows in clumps and tufts on hillocks or domes of roots,
and the horses are often in danger of tumbling over head
first on the uneven ground. We twice cross the winding
Sumdang-tsangpo. Its bottom is treacherous, and the
horse which Kutus rode almost sank into the mud.
The part of the steppe on which shepherds feed their
flocks is called Rartse. There we pitched camp 441.
According to my custom I drew a panorama of the moun-
tains around us. Here especially a picture was important
for orientation, for the compact walls of the Trans-
Himalaya rose in the south. I had just finished the
drawing and was inserting the compass bearings of the
high summits and deep valleys, when Lobsang came to
inform me that four men and as many laden mules were
approaching our camp. Astonished and doubtful I
examined the little party through my field-glass. They
came nearer and grew larger. Mirage made them appear
to float a hair's-breadth above the ground.
" The man in the yellow mantle is Abdul Kerim," cried
Kutus.
" Sedik and Gaffar are also with him," said Gulam.
" The fourth is a Tibetan," declared Lobsang.
A short time later all our perplexities were cleared up
and our anxiety was over (see Vol. II. p. 400). The
future shone again in a rosy light. Abdul Kerim brought
our remaining 2684 rupees sewed up in small bags, and my
financial circumstances were now brilliant. We need deny
ourselves nothing on the way to Simla, and the men from
Pedang, who had adhered to us in evil times, should be
royally rewarded.
Four of our men were still absent ; they had baggage
yaks and therefore they marched more slowly, but they
were now on the right track. The caravan was, at any
rate, considerably strengthened when we moved farther
over the steppe on July i, after nine degrees of frost in the
night. The belt of grass came to an end after a time, and
in its place an extraordinarily flat fan of rubbish and sand
stretched up to the foot of the mountain. On its slope
there could be distinguished a whole series of old shore
X THE MODELS OF KYANGYANG 99
embankments. We could see distinctly how closely they
followed the contours of the hills and projecting rocks, how
the intervals between them increased over gently sloping
ground, and how they closed up together on steep de-
clivities. The highest beach wall stood perhaps 23 feet
above the neighbouring ground, and at the uppermost
plainly recognizable beach line (15,990 feet) we were 413
feet above the surface of the Nganglaring-tso.
So far the lake had formerly extended, during a period
when the precipitation was more abundant than at present.
The whole plain near Selipuk then lay under water, and
the Tengri-nor in the east had a worthy counterpart in the
west, on the northern flank of the Trans-Himalaya. In
the course of time the quantity of precipitation diminished,
the great lake contracted, and in our day only the salt lake
is left, which fills the basin round the rocky islets of
Nganglaring-tso. But the old shore lines and beaches still
remain, and in them slumbers a fossilized echo of the
murmur of the surge of ancient times.
The way led south-west over a small pass and up a
grass-grown valley, where we passed the night at the spring
Kyangyang (camp 442). Five nomad tents were set up
there. Two men hurried out of one of them to advise us
not to encamp there for our own sakes, because an old man
was dying of an infectious disease in one of the tents. It
was the old story. We might be vagabonds, and so they
were anxious to get rid of us, and tried to scare us away
with smallpox and plague.
Light showers had been falling since noon, and I was
glad for the sake of Jamtse Singe and the shepherds.
Towards evening arose a south-westerly storm which howled
fearfully through the valley. The brazier was more neces-
sary than ever ; we wrapped ourselves in our furs and
could almost believe that another winter was coming on.
We spent three whole days in the Kyangyang valley or,
as the whole district is called, in Kyangyang-lobchang, in
which two valleys to the west are included. We had to
wait here for the four men still missing, Suen, Abdullah,
Abdul Rasak, and Sonam Kunchuk. On the evening of
July 3 we saw them making with all speed for our camp.
loo TRANS-HIMALAYA
and it was touching to witness their joy at seeing us again.
They threw themselves down on the ground before me,
and embraced their comrades with tears. Abdul Rasak
wept so that he could not stand still for excitement. He
lifted one foot and then the other, stamping as in a wine-
press. I was hard-hearted enough nearly to kill myself
with laughing at the sight of this uncontrolled delight.
Before the three days were over the people at the spring
of Kyangyang had recovered from their fright : they per-
ceived that our intentions towards them were good. An
elderly man who had once been the Gova of the place
promised us the thirteen yaks we wanted if we would have
patience for a couple of days more, and so we could dismiss
the men from the Pedang-tsangpo. They received double
pay. They had rendered us excellent service, had helped
us to discover the Shovo-tso, and to reach the Nganglaring-
tso. They set out well satisfied on the same evening to
return to their home.
The heralds of the south-west monsoon skimmed like
dark shadows over the valley, and on July 2 it rained and
snowed alternately almost all day long. The snow did not
fall in flakes, but in small round grains which soon melted.
In the Trans- Himalaya it snows even in summer ; but then
our camp stood 16,330 feet above the sea.
On July 3 also the rain pattered down monotonously
until evening. The nomads were delighted. We had
brought with us the first rainy days of the year, and perhaps
on that account they were so friendly to us. It was im-
possible to work out of doors. And I could not endure to
sit idle all day and listen to the rain beating down on my
dilapidated tent. So our neighbours were informed that
every female who presented herself in Abdul Kerim's large
white tent to have her portrait drawn should receive a
rupee, and every male a tenga. The women were to put
on their best clothes, and all the ornaments they could get
together out of their hiding-places.
An hour passed, and then another, but no models
appeared. There was ample excuse for them ; they were
bashful, and wondered what this invitation meant. Filthy
lucre at last overcame their scruples. I heard chains and
THE MODELS OF KYANGYANG loi
chatelaines clinking, and saw them coming slowly across
the meadows like a wedding procession, with bridesmaids,
witnesses, and guests. The Tibetans stood loitering
awkwardly between the tents. Then the rain began to
pour down more violently, and our guests were glad when
Lobsang drove them into Abdul Kerim's tent. It had a
long smoke vent in the top through which light entered,
but, unfortunately, rain also, and therefore an improvised
umbrella had to be rigged up over my drawing-board.
They were really stylish, these ladies of the Kyangyang
valley. Some of them are depicted on the coloured plate
facing p. 374 in Vol. II., where the name is incorrectly
spelt Kyangrang. At first they sat silent looking about
the tent or blowing their noses loudly with their fingers.
But they soon laid aside their shyness. The Ladakis joked
with them, and before long the country beauties were heard
chattering and laughing with them as freely as if they too
had been born in Ladak. When I told the models that
I had finished, and that they might go home, they still
remained sitting with us in the tent.
They answered fearlessly my questions about their ages
and names, and a young maiden told me with evident pride
that the long back cloth was called pale in Tibetan, the
metal plates raklig, and the shells sewed on it dundok.
A worthy matron, the thirty-eight-years-old Norsum,
wore on her brow a row of silver rupees strung on threads
of coral. On the top of her head she had a red cloth
closely studded with cheap coral and inferior turquoise.
Her hair was divided into a number of thin tails, into which
chains of white and blue glass beads were woven. Her
neck was hidden by many rows of coloured glass beads.
The two cloths which hang like veils from the top of the
head down over the back are patchwork of green and red
stuff in geometrical figures. They are decorated above
with rupees, anna-pieces, and Indian copper coins, and little
four-cornered silver plates are sewed on in the midst of
this collection. Farther down follow scallop shells in
double rows, and at the bottom are fixed a number of
Indian uniform buttons, some of brass, others silvered, all
with the arms of Great Britain, or the initials of a regiment.
I02 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
The Tommy Atkins who wore these buttons could hardly
have foreseen that they would one day be the pride of a
woman in the eternal snow mountains of Tibet.
I value such a costume at 250 rupees, or about £17-
There were 100 rupees on it in cash. The older the
ladies the finer they are decked out ; the young ones had
at most a chain of beads round the neck, and the ornaments
of their back cloths were of copper. It must certainly
require a long time to complete the collection. All depends
on the rain. After copious rain the grass is juicy, the sheep
are healthy and grow fat. Then the well-being of the
nomads increases, and their wives can afford to buy a neck-
lace from some travelling trader, or sew a rupee on their
mantillas. Or a new uniform button reaches Tibet in some
mysterious way, and they buy it. Now each of the models
could add another rupee to her finery.
Two old women had no ornament at all, but still they
waited patiently till their turn came. Apparently they had
reached the age when the mother resigns her trinkets to a
daughter who has found a bridegroom, or to a young girl
who will become her daughter-in-law, at least in part.
Thus it may happen that an outfit may take two generations
to complete it. Hardly more than two, for life in Tibet is
uncertain ; if the rain fails the grass dries up, the flocks are
decimated, and the nomads find themselves compelled by
want to sell their trinkets.
The following day I was almost flooded with models.
They came from other tents in the neighbouring valleys,
where the rumour of an easily-to-be-earned rupee had
spread. But now the occupation had ceased to amuse me,
and I could spare no more paper. But they received their
rupees all che same for their goodwill, and as friendly
souvenirs.
The feast of reunion was held on a pitch-dark night,
when the rain hissed in the flames of the camp-fire. Suen
was master of ceremonies in the caravan. He danced
round the fire and led the gleeful songs of Ladak.
The night of July 4 brought us 11.3 degrees of frost.
Thirteen yaks stood ready in the morning to take over our
baggage. Our own animals were to be spared as much as
73- Abdul Kerim's large Tent.
74. Inquisitive Visitors.
THE MODELS OF KYANGYANG 103
possible; we might want them in districts where the people
were less friendly disposed than the inhabitants here in the
interior, who had never seen a European. The ex-Gova
of Kyangyang provided us with a sheep and goat, and
procured barley for the horses and butter for the men. He
had felt so much at ease in our company that he asked
to accompany us for a day's journey, and he was very
welcome to me for the sake of the information he could
give me about the route.
We ride slowly up between the porphyry rocks of the
valley to the pass Kyangyang-la (16,920 feet). Sheep and
yaks feed in large numbers on the thriving grass on ground
honeycombed with mouse-holes. From the saddle of the
pass we perceive near to us the somewhat flat snowy summit
of the Lavar-gangri, which we first made acquaintance with
at Selipuk. On the farther side of the pass the valley of
the Lavar-tsangpo and the river itself come into view, and
eleven black tents are set up on its banks. Here we pitched
our camp 443.
In the night the temperature sank to 12.4", on July 6
in 31^ N. lat. ! The absolute height explains it. In such
a country no mercy is to be expected from winter. For
two whole days we followed the left bank downwards, and
saw the river gradually increased by water flowing out of
the side valleys. At the point where we leave the Lavar-
tsangpo we see the river winding off northwards to its
confluence with the larger Aong-tsangpo. But before it
reaches it the river almost touches the Damrap-tso, a small
long lake with banks white with salt. Every step we take
is over unknown country never pressed by any but Tibetan
soles. The land is still very sparsely peopled, but game
occurs in larger quantities than before ; I saw kiangs,
Pantholops and Goa antelopes, and swarms of hares.
On July 8 we awoke in camp 445 {17,048 feet) in cold
windy weather to an interesting day's march. I could per-
ceive myself that we should have to surmount a mountain
chain of the first rank, for during the past two days I had
seen the snow-crowned crest of a mighty range through the
portals of several side valleys. But I did not know whether
this range formed the watershed of the Nganglaring-tso.
I04 TRANS-HIMALAYA
We had camped in the mouth of the Ding-la valley,
where a narrow strip of grass grows by the bank of a
babbling brook. The valley is so narrow that there is no
room for a path. We therefore clambered over the steep
flank of the left side of the valley bestrewn with sharp
pebbles of grey granite. Not a square foot of the slope
is bare ; the ascent is sharp and the horses got sore feet.
The yaks did not mind, for no way is impassable for them.
Over this detritus the pilgrims tramp to Kang-rinpoche.
The path runs rather high above the bottom of the
Ding-la valley, sometimes southwards, sometimes south-
westwards. We had therefore a splendid view over the
massive, lofty, and wildly fissured mountain barrier along
the opposite right side of the valley, which culminates in
three similar humps with caps of eternal snow ; the lappets
of these caps, turned into ice, descend to the valley in the
form of hanging glaciers.
A last curve in the road brings us in a southerly direction
through more accumulations of granite rubbish up to the
hilly saddle which is known as the Ding-la. The streamers
of the pass flutter on their stakes in the highly rarefied air,
and the cairn, a brother of the clouds, is perhaps the
highest on earth that marks a caravan route. It is erected
at a height of 19,308 feet above sea-level. In Europe the
ascent of Mont Blanc is a height record, and there one has
the continent of the white men at his feet. But on the
Ding-la one is 3526 feet higher.
And yet the view is less extensive than one would
expect. The near-lying crests hide the distant horizon to
the north. Only the quadrant between south-east and
south-west presents an uninterrupted prospect. There
rises a continuous range with a row of small snowy peaks.
It appears much less imposing than the Ding-la range.
But as a watershed it takes a much higher rank, for from
its flanks the water drains to two seas, the Gulfs of Arabia
and Bengal, and its brooks flow northwards to the Ngang-
laring-tso. The Ding-la range must accordingly be broken
through by these streams, and is of the second order.
With one of the Tibetans acquainted with the country
by my side I scan the southern horizon. Near by to the
THE MODELS OF KYANGYANG 105
south-east towers a snowy massive, which sends out from
its firn basins short glacier tongues into rocky abysses.
S. 22° E, another snowy giant exhibits its royal crown
among the clouds, and at its western foot opens the valley
Da-teri, its floor still covered with winter ice. Due south
we descry the small lake Argok-tso barely a day's journey
distant.
After we had listened long enough to the " Om mani
padme hum " of the streamers of the Ding-la pass, we
worked our way painfully down through the granite pebbles
of the other side and encamped at the spring-fed rivulet
Lumanakbo, at a height of 16,857 feet (camp 446), where
the frozen snow was lashed by the wind against our tents.
CHAPTER XI
OVER THE TRANS-HIMALAYA FOR THE LAST TIME
On July 9 we directed our march southwards through
the labyrinth of the Trans- Himalaya, and then my hydro-
graphical conceptions were gradually made clear. To the
east is seen the Ding-la range with its gables and firn-
fields and its glacier tongues, from which the melted ice
collects into a brook carrying 88 cubic feet of water per
second. To the right stands a smaller crest without snow.
Large pasture lands lie among the mountains and remains
of old nomad camps are numerous.
After a time we are on the bank of another brook which
comes from the south, meandering through a broad open
valley. Its water, 175 cubic feet per second, is rather
turbid and of a dirty green colour ; farther down it receives
the above-mentioned brook. The united stream then
breaks through the Ding-la range in a narrow valley.
When I inquired why the road did not rather run along
the river instead of mounting the laborious ascents to the
Ding-la pass, our Tibetans replied that the narrow passage
was quite impracticable.
We lingered a while on the bank of this watercourse,
the largest we had met with for a long time. Gulam had
always fishing tackle with him, and he caught a good
number of fish.
" What is this river called ? " I asked one of the
Tibetans.
" Nya-mangbo-tsangpo," he replied, without moving a
muscle of his face. Nya signifies fish, mangbo much, and
tsajigpo river ; the whole means, then, the river abounding
106
CHAP. XI OVER FOR THE LAST TIME 107
in fish, a name which my informant had apparently coined
for this occasion.
" The river is called Argok-tsangpo, sir," affirmed
another guide ; "it comes from the Argok-tso."
" Which way does it take ? "
" It unites in the district Aong-dunker with the Aong-
tsangpo. The water collects from all the mountains and
valleys you see to the south to the Argok-tso, and therefore
the Argok-tsangpo is the largest brook in this country."
We were also able afterwards to ascertain that the Argok-
tsangpo is the main stream and the Lavar-tsangpo only a
tributary. The united river is the largest watercourse that
pours its water into the Nganglaring-tso.
One is surprised to find the watershed between the
Sutlej and the Nganglaring-tso so far to the south. Some-
where or other in the north-west there must be a triple
watershed which sends out brooks to the Indus as well as
to the Sutlej and the salt lake. But the country there is
unknown, and future explorers will find plenty to occupy
them in that region. My journey was only a reconnaissance.
Over undulating ground, between densely overgrown
swamps fed by springs, our road passes south-westwards.
The view is frequently quite obscured, for heavy leaden
clouds sweep over the ground and often a shower of hail
beats in our faces. The Argok-tso is near to us, and, as far
as we can see, it has a fairly round form. At the foot of our
hills flows a third brook, the Surnge-chu, which discharges
into the Argok-tso. We pitched camp 447 beside it.
Dark heavy rain-clouds again moved over the mountain
crests and thunder growled dully. The camp was hardly
ready when the storm broke in earnest. Hail beat on the
tops of the tents and now and then a rain shower pattered
down. A large sheet had to be laid over my tent which
leaked on all sides. So it had to be i Now the flocks of
the nomads were safe for the coming winter, and their
owners could live without anxiety for the next twelve
months.
Towards evening the rain changed into snow, which
fell for hours without intermission, this time in large light
flakes, which grazed the tents noiselessly, and spread their
io8 TRANS-HIMALAYA
white carpet all over the country. At night the clouds
parted for a time and the moon stood in the gap, sad and
blurred, and threw its pale light over the wintry scene
around us. The temperature fell to several degrees below
freezing-point and the snow crunched under the feet. And,
moreover, this was the hottest time of the year. We might
fancy ourselves back in the winter of Chang-tang. Our
camp stood 16,913 feet above the sea.
Wolves howl near us during the night. We are
accustomed to them and take no notice of their ghastly
barking. But we have always to think of our horses and
mules, which are grazing out in the snow watched by two
men. The wolves are certainly bold, for two revolver
shots resound through the valley, then all is quiet.
The new day dawned gloomy and threatening, and our
march was continued west -south -westwards, over wintry
white hills and through crunching snow. The god of storms
drove his rumbling chariot through the world of mountains
that surrounded us on all sides. The snow lay half a foot
deep and covered the treacherous mouse-holes in which the
horses stumbled. It caked also, and hemispherical soles
clung to the hoofs of the animals. Later in the day,
however, the sun got the upper hand, the snow mantle
disappeared, and the ground was quite bare when we
reached our camp for the night.
The day's march had led us along the Surnge-chu, and
we had waded through a large number of its tributary
brooks. How different from the dried-up region in which
the Indus has its sources I The camping place is called
Takche, and six-and-twenty black tents in two villages were
our neighbours. The Gova of the place had gone to
Purang, but his deputy, a little plump big-boned Tibetan,
promised to obey all my commands. I could have as many
yaks for the journey to Tokchen as I wanted. The man
told me that Sonam Ngurbu had left Takche the same day ;
he had prepared the nomads for our visit, and told them they
had nothing to fear from us. So the nomads of Takche
were friendly towards us from the first.
The men from Kyangyang had done their work and
could go. They were well paid and also took with them
OVER FOR THE LAST TIME 109
two dogs which we had no use for. The one was dirty-
yellow and a disagreeable animal ; Little Puppy and Takkar
could not bear him. The other was a little brown tyke
called Kamduk. Both had joined us of their own free will,
and barked all night long without the slightest provocation.
Now they were led on the leash back to Kyangyang. But
at the very next camp Kamduk was back again, wagging
his tail vigorously and barking for joy. After this proof of
faithfulness he was spoiled by every one, and he accompanied
us all the way to India until he stopped behind of his own
accord in one of the first villages. He feared the heat and
wished himself back again in the summer snow of the
Kyangyang valley.
We stayed a day more in Takche. We wanted to buy
sheep, tsmnba, and milk, and barley for the horses. The
weather, too, was not inviting for riding. There was a
continual downpour of rain, and the ground was converted
into one great swamp of mud. The grass here was more
juicy than it had been for several years. I beguiled the
time with the pencil and I had not to wait for sitters.
They came in shoals, of both sexes and all ages, filling
Abdul Kerim's roomy tent, where the atmosphere, laden
with the evaporation from dirty nomads and their soaked
clothing, soon exhaled a sweet Tibetan aroma. There was
sunshine in the tent, while outside the rain ceaselessly
swilled the tightly-stretched tent cloth. It was really a
great pleasure to sit all day among the sons and daughters
of the wilderness, to see them close at hand in garments
I that had grown on their sheep and yaks, and listen to their
unrestrained gossip and their hearty laughter. In a corner
sat a young mother with her baby. She was wretchedly
I clothed in rags, but well developed, and with an energetic
expression. Every time the model's seat was free she
came forward and declared that it was her turn, and at last
jshe got her wish.
Quite a popular assembly crowded before the tents
when we set out on July 12. They could not possibly be
jail from the black tents of Takche, and it turned out that
many had come from the neighbouring valleys. They had
.heard that the portrait-drawing would be continued, and
no TRANS-HIMALAYA
they hoped to earn a rupee or te7iga themselves. But
their hopes were crushed, for a new drove of fine yaks was
already waiting with their drivers, and the neighbours of
Takche could only witness our departure.
The whole country was veiled in a curious mist. The
ground seemed to steam, near objects were only faintly
visible and the distant heights were quite hidden. The
phenomenon was evidently due to the heavy rain of the
day before followed by the cold of the night. In the fore-
noon a smart hail shower fell, and the guide, who had
always to walk beside me, said that the hail was of no use,
for only the rain could refresh the grass roots. Farther
westwards, he said, the pasturage was better, and in a week
the community of Takche would remove thither, for so
long there would still be grazing on the Surnge-chu.
The ground rises exceedingly gently. We are close to
the Surnge-la, a water-parting pass of the first order in the
Trans-Himalaya, and yet the land before us is practically
level. Mountains stand on both sides but we march along
an open valley between them.
" Here is the Surnge-la," remarks my attendant.
" Impossible ! The ground is quite level ; this is not a
pass."
"Yet this is what we call the Surnge-la," he replies.
A singular pass ! Not the smallest gutter of water
betrayed a fall in any direction. The ground was perfectly
level. After a few minutes, however, we came to a tiny
bed running southwards. Now the question was settled ;
the boiling-point thermometer was brought into action and
gave a height of 17,310 feet. The numerous cairns on the
pass are misleading, for they are set up a good way to the
west of the highest point.
The structure soon becomes more apparent ; we ride
down a slowly falling valley, the Surnge-lungpa, drained by
a brook belonging to the drainage basin of the Sutlej.
We had, therefore, crossed the Trans- Himalaya for the
eighth time. The Surnge-la pass was much easier than
any of the others. It can scarcely be called a pass ; it is [
only a slight flattened rise in a very low part of the system.
From camp 449 (16,132 feet) in the mouth of the
75- On a Pass of the Trans-Himalaya.
OVER FOR THE LAST TIME in
Panglung valley we saw to the west-south-west an old
acquaintance, the Fundi mountain, which stands at the
northern shore of the holy lake. The Surnge-lungpa
continues on in the same direction, and now proved to be
the upper part of the Pachen valley, to the mouth of which
I had made a short visit the year before. During the
following day's march we left this valley on the right, and
crossed instead over the small pass Yiibgo-la and a succes-
sion of low hills, and finally through a narrow winding valley.
We had just pitched camp 450 when the sky darkened
as at eventide. A little later the hail burst its bonds and
clattered down with indescribable violence. The whole
country became dead white again, but the white covering
was soon washed away by closely falling rain. Only the
higher parts of the mountains, where precipitation always
takes the form of hail or snow, remained white. There
is a splashing and squelching in the wet outside. Little
Puppy comes running in, and of course contrives to shake
the water out of his coat on to my note-books and maps
just under my nose. Then he rolls himself up on his mat
in the corner to dry. But he cannot rest. When he hears
steps outside he must go out to inspect the passer-by and
growl at him, and then he comes in again to give me
another douche.
Towards evening the rain passed into snow. Such is
always the order of the weather in high Tibet. First
a violent hailstorm, which then passes into rain, and ends
in a fall of snow. But how different were the two rainv
seasons of 1907 and 1908 ! During the former there were
only some sprinkles of rain a couple of times, while now
violent and continuous downpours were always falling.
The next day's journey brought us down the Gelle-
lungpa valley, wedged in between cliffs of halleflinta and
grauwacke. At a place where the valley widens out
twelve horsemen overtook us, driving in great haste a herd
of yaks and a number of sheep before them. They were
from Nepal, and I asked them as they passed, why they
were in such a terrible hurry. " Thieves from Tibet stole
our cattle," they replied, "so we at once pursued the band.
We overtook them two days ago, and we thrashed the
I 12
SCOU
TRANS-HIMALAYA
..^.ndrels so soundly that they could hardly walk. But
we recovered our animals, and now we are riding hard to
get quickly over the frontier and home."
" Where do we cross the frontier ? "
'• At the pass Chakpalung-la." A name of ill-omen, for
it means '* Pass of the Robbers' Valley."
•' Do not the authorities help you, if you make a com-
plaint to the Devashung ? "
" Xo. The Tibetan Government will not lift a finger
to assist foreigners who have been plundered. When we
are robbed by'^Tibetans all we can do is to rush off with all
speed into the enemies' country and recover our property
by force, or it vanishes like smoke. As you see, we are
well armed. Good-bye ! "
The spokesman of the Nepalese hurled another curse at
the Tibetan scum, and then the singular troop disappeared
round a bend of the valley.
Wc are now in the domain of Tokchen. The district
that we have passed through last is named Hor-paryang.
We have still a small pass to cross, the Rigong-la ; from its
top a small corner of the holy lake is seen in S. 69° W.
Otherwise the view is not worth much. Heavy leaden
blue-black clouds hang over the whole country, hiding every-
thing. The road passes at last over gently swelling hills
down into the valley of the Samo-tsangpo. We pitch our
camp on the left bank of the river close to the place where
the Gova of Tokchen has set up his summer tents.
As usual the camp was ready and the smoke rose from
the fire when I rode up. I dismounted, handed Lobsang
my riding-whip, let Gulam draw off my leather boots and
untie my sash, threw back my Tibetan mantle, went into
the tent, and thanked God that He had permitted my
strenuous work to come to a successful end.
Then I lay down on my bed and pondered. Seven
moiuiis had passed since we left Ladak. I had traversed
in many directions the great blank space north of the
Tsangpo, the upper Brahmaputra. I had gained my end,
done my duty, and could now take the road to India with
an easy conscience.
P)Ut before we commence our journey back through the
XI OVER FOR THE LAST TIME 113
Sutlej valley let us pause a moment here after the eighth
crossing of the Trans- Himalaya and recall to mind what
was known in past times of this mountain system. And let
us pay homage to the memory of those men who have con-
tributed, each his share, to the knowledge of the Trans-
Himalaya. They touched principally the eastern and
western wings. The centre, the " white patch," remained
for me. Therefore I had the good fortune to be able to
set aside theories which had been formulated on various
occasions, to connect together the two wings, and prove
that the Trans- Himalaya is a single, connected system
consisting of a host of different ranges, a folded system of
the earth's crust, which, indeed, is surpassed in loftiness
by the Himalayas, but is their equal in massiveness and
importance.
CHAPTER XII
THE TRANS-HIMALAYA IN ANCIENT TIMES AND THE
MIDDLE AGES — THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES
It seems to us wonderful that huge areas of southern
Tibet, a country so near to the frontier of India, and only-
two hundred miles distant from English railway stations,
have preserved their secrets until the present day, and that
no European eyes have beheld their scenery. Five years
ago I succeeded in forcing my way through their once inex-
orably closed portals of rock, in sketching the main lines of
hitherto unknown mountain ranges, in tracing watercourses
of which no rumour of their existence had penetrated into
the world of white men, and in pitching my tent by the
shores of lakes where till then no European had listened
to the song of the waves.
The goal of aspiration for centuries, the poles of the
earth have in the course of those five years been reached.
They were considered inaccessible. Nothing could be
harder of accomplishment than to travel to one of the
poles with dog teams. And yet both poles have been
conquered in the exciting chase, for which national vanity
and the palms of victory waving at the end have supplied
the impulse. Bold men were pressing on towards the
poles at a time when so many mysteries lay unsolved in
the deep valleys where the Indo-European rivers have
excavated their channels. Flags were planted at the poles
before the storming of the heights of Gaurisankar, Kan-
chanjanga, or Mount Everest had even commenced. The
future will show that the loftiest peaks of the world are less
easy of access than the two points through which the axis
114
CHAP. XII IN ANCIENT TIMES 115
of the earth passes. The fact that the country to the north
of the upper Brahmaputra was only attained a few years
before the poles, shows that the roads leading over the
boundaries of Tibet into the interior are not strewn with
roses.
From the jungles of Bengal, from the luxuriant vege-
tation of the Ganges valley, and from the plains of the
Punjab, wooded heights rise up to bare steep cliffs and
precipitous ramparts, to wildly-fissured jagged mountain
massives, and finally to the domain of the petrified kings,
crowned with eternal snow, that look down over suffocating
steamy India. Out of reverence to this mysterious icily
cold and inaccessible world the old Hindus, the people of
the plain, located the habitation of their gods and their
holiest places in those high regions which were beyond the
reach of mortals.
But the religious faith of the Hindus has not peopled
all the Himalayas with gods, and not everywhere in the
high mountains are there pilgrimage resorts. The central
Himalayas play no part in their imaginings. The land of
Nepal also is mentioned in their classical literature only
in obscure and indefinite terms, and the Hindus have
travelled so far only in recent times. On the other
hand, they have made pilgrimages from remote ages to
the source of the Ganges, and they placed their principal
gods in that part of the Himalayas where the large rivers
rise and collect all the volumes of water which make
corn grow on the plains of India and ripen into golden
harvests.
The Indian Aryans came from the north-west and
passed over the mountains into Kashmir, to the Punjab,
and down to the countries of the Indus and Ganges. An
original knowledge of the regions where their deified fore-
fathers lived and roamed, remained in their consciousness
as a misty remembrance from the hoary past, and therefore
the country round the holy lakes and the river sources
were also the dwelling-places of their gods. (See Anton,
Freiherr von Ow, Horn, der false he Prophet aus ^ der
noachitischen Zeit, p. 152; and " Religionsgeschichtliches
aus Sven Hedins Transhimalaya," in A^ithropos, v.
ii6 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
(1910), Nos. 5 and 6; also Lassen's Indische Altertums-
kunde, etc.) • 1 n •
According to the ancient Vedic books Asia lay floating
as a lotus blossom {padma) on the surface of the ocean.
The blossom had four petals, and the one pointing south
was India. Amidst the mighty mountain summits which
fructified the earth with their rivers stood Meru, the
mountain of the gods, the loftiest elevation in the world,
like a fruit germ in the middle of the flower. Meru
included the whole high region which extends northwards
from India. All Tibet belonged to it. Not only the
Aryan Hindus raised their hands to the mountains from
which, according to their belief, their help came, but other
people also living in the surrounding lands lifted their eyes
to the mysterious heights. To the Burmans the snowy
land is the dwelling of the departed after death, and even
the Chinese have chosen the Kwen-lun, a part of Meru,
as the abode of their oldest saints.
From this Meru flow five enormous rivers, the Ganges,
the Indus, and the Oxus to the south and west, the other
two to Siberia and China. Threefold ranges of mountains
border Meru on the south and north. The three on the
south are: Himavan or Himalaya, close to India; Hema-
kuta, or the mountains with the gold-glittering summits ;
the third, " The Best among the Mountains," serves as the
throne of Indra, the god of rain and storms, who launches
the glistening bridge of the rainbow across the vault of
heaven after he has made his thunder rumble over the
earth. This third range is Kailas, the paradise of Siva,
the home of the gods. Beyond the holy lakes, and beyond
the holy sources of the Indus, Sutlej, Brahmaputra,
Ganges, and Jumna, it lifts its sunlighted head above a
country unmatched on earth for lofty majesty and grand
solitude.
Mythical poesy has peopled Kailas with a host ot
wonderful figures. Above it rises the heaven of Siva, and
to attain to it after death is the object of the most deeply
felt desire— a feeling shared also by the Tibetans. In
the Child Messenger Kalidasa sings of the aerial flight
of the holy alpine swans to Kailas and its neighbours,
XII IN ANCIENT TIMES 117
which shine like white lotus blossoms high above all the
lands of the world, a reflexion of the smile of Siva and the
light of Mahadeva. Kailas, the crystal, is the origin of
the divine rivers, and there is worshipped the imprint of
Rama's foot.
Thus the old Aryans, forefathers of the Hindus,
enveloped this world of impenetrable mountains in a tissue
of legends and lyrics, and made them the scene of heroic
deeds and of the wonderful incidents of epical and mystical
fancy. Out of the darkness of Indian legends a scarcely
audible whisper from the Himalayas at last reached the west,
by means of accounts based on rumours and attributable to
Phoenician and Persian merchants. Herodotus tells of the
gold-digging ants to the north in cloudland, a tale which
originated among the old Hindus. He says that the
singular ants are smaller than dogs, but bigger than foxes.
Nearchus states that he had himself seen a skin of the
gold-digging animal in Alexander's camp, and found that it
resembled the fur of a panther. In our days the legendary
ants have been turned into marmots, which dig holes in
the ground, and throw up heaps of earth and sand before
the entrances of their retreats, in which perhaps some gold-
dust may occasionally be found.
The geographical writers and historians after the time
of Alexander mention only the lofty chain which skirts
India on the north. Megasthenes calls the Himalayas
Emodos, a name which Pliny also employs. Arrian gives
the name of Caucasus to the western part of those mountains.
Pomponius Mela makes the Taurus the northern boundary
of India, which extends its mighty ridge, in his opinion,
which had also been that of Eratosthenes, from Asia Minor
to the farthest east. Strabo states that as a traveller
proceeds eastwards from the Hyrcanian or Caspian sea the
mountains lie to his right, which the Greeks name Taurus
and which extend to the Indian sea. Of the lofty mountain
masses which lie beyond Bactria and Sogdiana and the
land of the wandering Scythian herdsmen, he says: "All
other mountains, from the land of the Aryans onwards, the
Macedonians named Caucasus, but among the barbarians
the various parts bear the names Paropamisus, Emodus,
iiS TRANS-HIMALAYA
Imaiis, and others of similar sound." In another place he
repeat's the same idea in the following words: "India is
bounded on the north, from Ariana to the eastern sea, by
the last parts of the Taurus, which the natives call by the
names Paropamisus, Emodus, Imaus, and others, while
the Macedonians name them Caucasus."
In the second century a.d. Ptolemy, the greatest
geographer of antiquity, wrote his famous work, laying the
foundation on which in later times Arabians and Europeans
built.
The name Imaus in Ptolemy's system embraces not
only the eastern part of the Hindu-kush and the western
part of the Himalayas, but also the eastern marginal chains
of the Pamir. Accordingly the Imaus, which runs north
and south, divides the western Scythia from the eastern,
while the part that runs east and west, corresponding to
the Himalayas, forms a boundary wall between India intra
Gangem fluvium and Scythia extra Imaum montem, the
country in the southern part of which are piled up the
mighty chains of the Trans-Himalaya.
The whole of the Middle Ages lived, so to say, on the
wisdom of Ptolemy, and his world system acquired dogmatic
sharpness in the minds of the learned. For eleven hundred
years the high-born rivers flowed down from their holy
sources, and the dark cloud-masses of the monsoon struggled
with the sunshine for lordship over the Trans-Himalaya
and its neighbours. Europeans had no suspicion of the
existence of the highest elevation on earth. Like a fortress
protected by massive ramparts and full moats, unknown
Tibet dreamed in undisturbed peace. How long would it
be before the outer walls fell .^ Seventeen hundred and
fifty years were the winter storms to sing their ancient
hymns over the lofty mountain land of Bongba before
its last defences fell before the assault of European
exploration,
Whrn ihfi earth had made its eleven hundredth revolu-
tion round the sun, the first meagre report of Tibet reached
Europe. The Mongols had fallen upon the world of the
white men, devastating all the country. To obtain in-
formation about the home and conditions of life of that
THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 119
warlike people, the Pope in the year 1245 sent Piano
Carpini to the Great Khan. This ambassador heard of
Tibet during his long journey. " The inhabitants of that
land are pagans," he says ; and then adds : " They have a
most astonishing or rather horrible custom, for when any
one's father is about to give up the ghost, all the relatives
meet together, and they eat him, as was told to me for
certain."
On his celebrated journey, during the years 1253-
1255, the object of which also was the court of the Great
Khan, the excellent Franciscan monk William de Rubruquis
learned that beyond the Tanguts dwell the Tibetans, "a
people in the habit of eating their dead parents so that for
piety's sake they should not give their parents any other
sepulchre than their bowels. They have given this practice
up, however, as they were held an abomination among all
nations. They still, however, make handsome cups out of
the heads of their parents, so that when drinking out of
them they may have them in mind in the midst of their
merry-making. These people have much gold in their
country, so that when one lacks gold he digs till he finds it,
and he only takes so much as he requires and puts the rest
back in the ground ; for if he puts it in a treasury or a
coffer, he believes that God would take away from' him
that which is in the ground. I saw many misshapen
individuals of this people."
Rockhill, who has edited and annotated the best edition
of Rubruquis' narrative, doubts whether the Tibetans were
cannibals in the Middle Ages. On the other hand, there is
still at the present day scarcely a temple in Tibet where
human skulls are not used, both as drinking vessels and as
religious drums. (Such a drum is depicted on p. 11 74 of
the second volume of my book Through Asia.)
During the twenty years (1275-95) of his sojourn at
the court of the Emperor Kublai Khan, Marco Polo, the
most illustrious traveller of the Middle Ages, heard various
reports of Tibet and describes it as follows :
This province, called Tebet, is of very great extent. The
people, as I have told you, have a language of their own, and they
are idolaters, and they border on Manzi and sundry other regions.
,20 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Moreover, they are very great thieves. The country is, in fact, so
great that it embraces eight kingdoms and a vast number of cities
and villages. It contains in several quarters rivers and lakes, in
which gold-dust is found in great abundance. Cinnamon also grows
there in great plenty. Coral is in great demand in this country and
fetches a high price, for the)' delight to hang it round the necks of
their women and of their idols. They have also in this country
plenty of fine woollens and other stuffs, and many kinds of spices
are produced there which are never seen in our country. Among
this people, too, you find the best enchanters and astrologers that
exist in all that quarter of the world ; they perform such extra-
ordinary marvels and sorceries by diabolic art, that it astounds one
to see or even hear of them. So I will relate none of them in this
book of ours ; people would be amazed if they heard them, but it
would serve no good purpose. These people of Tebet are an ill-
conditioned race. They have mastiff dogs as big as donkeys, which
are capital at seizing wild beasts (and in particular the wild oxen
which are called Bayamini, very great and fierce animals). They
have also sundry other kinds of sporting dogs, and excellent lanner
falcons (and sakers), swift in flight and well trained, which are got
in the mountains of the country.
In conclusion Marco Polo states that Tibet is subject to the
Great Khan.
In the year 1328 the Franciscan monk Odorico de
Pordenone travelled from Shan-si through Shen-si, Se-
chuan and Tibet. Henri Cordier, who has prepared the
best edition of the monk's narrative, supposes that in the
second section of his journey, of which no report is extant,
the monk passed through Badakshan, Khorasan, Tabriz,
and Armenia, back to Europe, where he arrived in the year
1330. His name deserves to be kept in memory, not only
because he achieved one of the most remarkable journeys
through the midst of Asia, but also because he was the first
Kuropean to pass through Tibet and to visit Lhasa, that
maiden city nhich for five hundred years longer excited
the curiosity of European travellers, and in their imagina-
tion displayed fa9ades towering to the skies under golden
temple roofs. Odorico mentions Lhasa Gota, which,
according to Cordier, is a corruption of the name Potala
born(t by the monastery palace of the Dalai Lama. The
country he calls Riboth ; he knows that it borders on India,
and says :
XII THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 121
This kingdom is subject to the Great Khan, and there are found
bread and wine in much greater abundance than in any other part
of the world. The people of this country live in tents of black felt.
Their chief city is very fine, all of white stone, and the streets well
paved. It is called Gota. In this city none dare shed human
blood, nor of any beast, out of reverence to an idol they worship
there. In this city dwells the obassy, that is to say their pope in
their language. He is the chief of all the idolaters, and bestows
the benefices of the country at his pleasure.
Odorico also knows how the Tibetans deal with their
dead, that the priests cut off the head from the body and
give it to the son, who makes of it a drinking-cup, from
which he drinks to the memory of his father ; while the
body is cut up and thrown to eagles and vultures, who,
like the angels of God, conduct the departed to the joys of
paradise.
Again three hundred years passed away without any
new information reaching Europe about the Land of Snow,
as the Tibetans often call their home among the mountains
and valleys. Three hundred years the fortress held out,
and strangers never crossed its fosses. Storms swept the
snow down the flanks as before, and caused it to flutter
down like white kerchiefs from crest and peak. The wind
groaned and piped round the rocky spurs, and the waves
beat sadly against the lonely shores of the lake of Brahma
and the Tengri-nor. Safe and undisturbed as in a sanc-
tuary, the nomads migrated with their black tents from
one pasture to another just as in the days when Odorico
was in their country.
In the year 1625 Father Antonio de Andrade travelled
to Tsaparang. We shall speak of him later when we come
to that country. Now we will cite only those travellers
who have touched on the Trans-Himalaya during their
wanderings. We have seen that the Hindus of ancient
times knew no other part of this system than Kailas.
Whether Odorico crossed the eastern ranges of this system
is unknown. But now modern times have instituted a
more thorough knowledge of the earth by their more rigid
demands. I)uring this period the wings of the Trans-
Himalaya will be made known by degrees.
122 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
In the exploration of the earth there is hardly a grander
and more enchanting problem conceivable than the connec-
tion of these two wings and of the delineation of the whole
system. At any rate I have never faced a more splendid
task. Therefore I dwell with pleasure on the remembrance
of those travellers who in earlier and more recent times
have contributed stones to the tremendous structure which
is now completed in its main features. Perhaps it is also
worth while to inquire how one of the most gigantic folds
of the earth's crust, which stands as firmly in its rigidity
now as in the days when the Vedas were written, gradually
emerged from the night of folklore and legend, how it was
unveiled little by little, grew more and more towards com-
pletion on the maps of Europeans, like a game of patience,
and at last stood fully revealed to geographers as one of
the loftiest, longest, and greatest mountain systems in the
world.
The last section, which was yet wanting to form a
complete representation of the whole, had an area of about
42,000 square miles, and was therefore larger than Bavaria,
Wlirttemberg, and Baden together. On the map were to
be read there the words "terra incognita," and they had
to be wiped out. When this was done the game was
won.
The first traveller who brought back to Europe fuller
and more valuable information about Tibet, and who is
known with certainty to have crossed the eastern Trans-
Himalaya, was the Jesuit father Johannes Grueber, who
left Pekin in the year 1661, accompanied by Albert Dorville,
a member of the same order, with the intention of travelling
through all eastern Tibet by the Kuku-nor, Lhasa, Shigatse,
and Khatmandu, and, after his journey was successfully
accomplished, came to Agra in 1662. The description of
this journey does not do justice to its importance. Athan-
asius Kircher and Th^venot have published a small
number of letters and notes from Grueber's hand, the latter
in his noted work China Illustrata, which appeared at
Amsterdam in 1760.
From this we learn that the two priests crossed the
Hwang-ho twice, and that, after passing Sining-fu, they
xn THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 123
travelled for three months through the desert of the Tatar
Kalmukhs before reaching the kingdom of Lhasa, which
was called by the Tatars Barantola. Their route ran over
plains and mountains, and through rivers with grassy-
banks, where the herds of the nomads found pasture in
sufficient quantity. " There are many who believe that
this desert stretches from India to the Arctic Sea." There
no other animals occur but "wild bulls." The inhabit-
ants dwell in " portable houses," as Grueber calls what
Odorico three hundred years earlier had correctly styled
"black felt tents."
In the southern part of the land thus described, between
Nakchu on the Salwin and the Reting monastery, south-
east of the Tengri-nor, Grueber and Dorville passed over
the heights of the Trans- Himalaya without suspecting that
they had thereby added another discovery to the many they
had already made during their long journey. That this
mountain system does not stand out in Grueber s notes in
the sharp relief that is really due to it, and that Kircher
does not even mention it, is not to be wondered at, for
the ranges on the south of Tsaidam, the huge Tang-la,
which, two hundred years later, excited the astonishment
and awe of Father Hue, seem to have left no impression
on Grueber's memory.
What he seems to have retained better and has described
in vivid colours, are the Langur mountains south of the
Tsangpo, which correspond to the northern water-parting
chain of the Himalayas between Shigatse and Khatmandu.
There he was attacked by mountain sickness, and he has
ventured to make some very hazardous conjectures to
explain the unbearable headaches that throbbed in his
temples, all which have been accepted with blind faith by
his Catholic successors on the elevated roads of Tibet.
He says that the Langur mountains are so high that
men cannot breathe there because the air is much too
" subtle," and he adds : " In summer certain poisonous
weeds grow there which exhale such a bad - smelling
dangerous odour that one cannot stay up there without
risk of losing one's life, nay, not even cross the mountains
without danger to life." For a whole month one must
124 TRANS-HIMALAYA
cross immense mountains and march along awful abysses
before reaching the first town in Nepal.
In Kircher's work we read also of the audience the
Grand Duke of Tuscany granted to the good Grueber on
his return home. Among other questions the Grand Duke
inquired whether Father Johannes had travelled from
Tatary or the land of the Usbeks into the empire of
the Great Mogul, or whether he had come from the east,
and whether he had become acquainted with the countries
of Tibet which Antonio de Andrade had described. To
this Grueber replied that he had marched westwards from
Pekin to Sining-fu, and that he had been forced by the
Great Wall to take a south-westerly course. To reach the
territories of the Great Mogul he had wandered through
the desert of Tatary and the kingdoms of Barantola,
Nepal, and Maranga, and had at last come to the Ganges.
"As to the kingdom of Tibet, my knowledge of this
country is fairly exact, for both our Jesuit fathers and the
Christians who have been there have given me thorough
information."
When the Grand Duke inquired whether Father
Johannes thought of describing the provinces and states
lying outside China, and whether he intended to publish
geographical maps of them, he received the regrettable
answer that since Father Athanasius Kircher had already
made known in his work China Ilbistrata, everything of
importance about Grueber's journey, it would be a waste of
trouble "to add anything to what had already been said by
so great a man and to write a separate book." It seems as
if Grueber considered it impertinence or even insubordina-
tion towards Kircher to pretend that he could write himself
anything better and more complete than was contained in
China lilustrata.
We recognize on one of Kircher's maps the Himalayas
in the " Montes Tibetici," though Kailas, which belongs to
the Trans-Himalaya, is included among them. To the
north of this mountain we read the words " Tibet Regnum."
Fully fifty years vanished down the stream of time
without an echo reaching Europe from the land where the
mountains of the Trans- Himalaya bathe their summits in
XII THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 125
storm and sunshine. Then occurred in Rome an incident
which paved the way to the mysterious country. The
Capuchin fathers of the province of Ancona applied for an
exclusive right to establish missions in Tibet, and they
acquired it by a special order of the Congregatio de Propo-
ganda Fide. Accordingly Father Felice da Montecchio,
Father Domenico da Fano, and other members of the
Capuchin order set off from Rome in the year 1704 to
travel to India and Tibet. Fano arrived at Lhasa in 1707.
In his efforts to establish a mission station in the capital of
the Dalai Lama he encountered great difficulties, and he
returned to the eternal city to obtain more vigorous support
from home. In the year 171 5 he was again in India,
equipped for another attack on Tibet.
Meanwhile the Jesuit father, Ippolito Desideri, had
received permission from the general of his order to
convert the Tibetans, and after receiving a blessing from
the Pope he too started on his way. From India he
took with him Father Manuel Freyre. The two travelled
through Kashmir to Leh, where they spent the summer of
17 15 in learning the language, in the hope of sometime
"seeing fruits well pleasing to God's majesty sprout up
among the mountains of Tibet."
Desideri left Leh in August 171 5 and travelled in the
train of a Tatar princess with a large caravan and many
attendants through Gartok and past Manasarowar to Lhasa,
where he arrived in March 17 16. He had accomplished a
journey which ought to make his name for ever famous. It
was not till quite 188 years later that the next European
expedition — under Captain Rawling and Major Ryder —
passed through the valley of the upper Brahmaputra.
Father Desideri was the first European who travelled
along the whole of the Trans-Himalaya along its southern
flank.
For nearly two hundred years nothing was known of
that journey except what Desideri imparted to Father
Ildebrand Grassi in a letter written in Lhasa on April
10, 1 7 16, which was afterwards printed in the Lettres
Edifiantes. In some ten others he does not touch on
any geographical questions. At last a full and detailed
126 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
manuscript in his handwriting was found in his native town,
and this precious document was pubHshed at Rome in 1904.
Desideri is the most prominent among the CathoHc mission-
aries who visited Tibet early in the eighteenth century.
He rode for months together past the holy lake and
along the Tsangpo valley, always having on the north side
rocky buttresses and spurs of the Trans- Himalaya, which
looked down into the valley like house gables into an old
alley. Nevertheless, Desideri has hardly anything to say
about these mountains, but, like Grueber, speaks only of
the Langur mountains. When one follows the same route
as Desideri it is not hard to understand him. The Langur
mountains, which he crossed with much toil, made a deeper
impression on him than the Trans- Himalaya, of which
he obtained only partial views from the Tsangpo valley.
Seen from the comparatively deep trough of this river, the
system makes a grand effect only at two places ; elsewhere
the near-lying mountains which hide the main crest are
not very high.
But Desideri is the first European who saw Kailas and
has told about it. He relates that he left Gartok in the
middle of October, and on November 9 reached the greatest
heights he had to surmount on the way to Lhasa. Here,
in the province of Ngari, he says, is an extraordinarily
high mountain of considerable compass, covered with
eternal snow and enveloped in the most terrible cold.
Perhaps he wandered round Kailas, for he speaks of the
trains of pilgrims and of the religious significance of the
mountain.
He knows the various roads from Lhasa to Sining-fu,
and he knows that Tibet borders in the east and north-
east on China and Tatary, and in the north on wild desolate
countries and the kingdom of Yarkand. He tells those
who were not to know of his writings till two hundred
years later, that Shigatse is the capital of the kingdom
of Tsang ; that Lhasa, the heart of the central province
of Tibet, which is called U, lies among high mountains ;
and that lofty crests also rise to the north of the Sera
monastery.
Desideri's description, however, has never to our minds
X.I THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 127
conveyed the idea of a continuous mountain system along
the way from Ladak to Lhasa. Such an idea existed even
in the year 1904 only in theory. In the same year appeared
Desideri's description, but it did not enlarge our views or
clear up our notions of the mysterious mountains.
But the Langur mountains did make an impression on
the father. " They have the peculiarity that every one
who crosses them experiences acute discomfort, especially
severe headache, nausea and want of breath, accompanied
by fever." Desideri has a much more sensible and correct
explanation of mountain sickness than Father Hue, who
attributes it to poisonous exhalations of carbonic acid
rising from the ground. The former says :
Many people believe that the discomfort one experiences arises
from the reek from certain minerals that occur in the interior of
the Langur mountains ; but, as no unmistakable traces of such
minerals have been found hitherto, I rather believe that the
unpleasant symptoms are due to the thin sharp air, I am
the more inclined to this view, because my pains became still more
unendurable when the wind rose, and I suffered from excruciating
headache just on the tops of the Langur mountains.
One would have thought that during the long period of
nearly four decades, when the Capuchin mission, certainly
with some interruptions, was at work in Tibet, quite a
literature of the remarkable country would have grown
up, for at that time many priests travelled backwards and
forwards over the Himalayas. And yet the geographical
results are meagre. The most important work of the time
is Georgi's Alphabehmt Tibetamun, for which Orazio della
Penna and Cassiano Beligatti supplied almost all the
material. Then there is Beligatti's own narrative, which
was recently discovered at Macerata in the communal
library Mozzi-Borgetti, and was published at Florence in
1902.
Beligatti, born at Macerata in 1708, consecrated his
life at seventeen years of age to the service of religion,
and went out in 1738 as a missionary to Tibet, where he
remained two years. He returned in 1756 through Nepal
and Bengal to Italy, and died in 1785 in his native town.
He made his journey to Tibet in the company of
128 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Father della Penna. The Capuchin mission had mean-
while passed the height of its prosperity, and not even the
last reinforcement it received from Rome could enable it
to maintain the holy fire in opposition to the Dalai Lama
and the divine images in the Potala. In April 1745 the
tlame expired entirely when the last missionaries left
Lhasa. Their houses were destroyed, and a hundred
years were to elapse before missionaries from Europe — the
Lazarists, Hue and Gabet — again penetrated into the holy
city. Yet still in the year 1904 the English under Young-
husband found a bronze bell in the Potala which had once
rung for service in the Capuchin church. " Te Deum
laudamus " could be read in the bronze, and the Ambrosian
hymn of praise seems to linger in the waves of sound when
the bell is set swinging by pagan hands, and the melancholy
and victorious echo rebounds from the rocks of Tibet.
Beligatti tells of his long tramp from his native place all
the way to Paris, of his taking ship at Lorient for the port
of Chandernagore, which he reached half a year later, and
whence he and his comrades travelled on in December
1739 to Patna. From here eight brethren and sixteen
native servants set out on Shanks's pony to follow the
rough paths through Nepal.
As soon as Beligatti in his narrative has passed the
Tibetan frontier we read on with redoubled interest,
wondering whether he will vouchsafe us a glance at the
Trans- Himalaya. But we wait in vain for the rise of
the curtain, and freely pardon Fra Cassiano for this
omission when we remember that the distant view was
perhaps limited by the enveloping draperies of the monsoon
clouds.
On the heights of the Langur mountains he cannot
refrain, any more than his predecessors, from alluding to
the " singular influence which the mountains exercise over
both men and animals, whether this arises from the rare-
faction of the atmosphere or from deleterious exhalations."
With three saddle-horses, on which the most exhausted of
the party rode, the ecclesiastics painfully toiled up the
steep mountain flanks. In a shed on the road they, their
men and steeds, and some travellers from Lhasa, spent a
>^'
THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 129
night which reminded them of "purgatorial fires and hell."
Some whimpered, others cried out aloud, while those lying
beside them gave themselves up for lost or raved. They
could not eat, and their four-legged companions did not
contribute to raise their spirits. Next day they crossed the
pass, and when they reached Tingri on the other side, all
their troubles were over.
He depicts in the same masterly style as Desideri the
daily work during his journey, and describes how the camp
was pitched and the animals let loose to graze, the camp-fire
lighted and food cooked, while some of the brethren read
the breviary ; how they set out again to make new efforts,
scolded refractory mule-drivers, and watched the reddish-
yellow swift-footed kiangs which circled round the caravan ;
how they were troubled by the violent wind which often
interfered with their cooking ; and how they came to one
village after another, and constantly to a new monastery.
Beligatti's route may be easily traced on a modern map.
The priests stayed two days in Gyangtse to keep
Christmas. Then they went on over the Karo-la to the
singular lake Yamdok-tso, with its peninsula and nuns'
convents. Next they marched up to the pass Kamba-la,
which lies in the range dividing the Yamdok-tso from the
Tsangpo. Here, too, nothing is said of the view on the
northern horizon, which must have enchanted them. But
he, or perhaps Delia Penna, who accompanied him on
this journey, told Father Georgi what they saw, for the
Alphabetuin Tibeta7ium draws aside a corner of the
curtain, and in the following words : " E vertice Kambala
prospicitur nova quaedam series elatiorum nivosorumque
montium ad Boream. Hinc eos adorant Indi ac Tibetani
viatores," or " From the summit of the Kamba-la one
perceives a new series of lofty snow-covered mountains
to the north. From here Tibetan and Indian travellers
worship them (the mountains)."
The snow-covered crests far to the north are the part
of the Trans- Himalaya which the Tibetans call Nien-chen-
tang-la, and which are holy in their eyes. If the sky were
clear, Odorico de Pordenone, Grueber and Dorville,
Desideri and Freyre, and all the Capuchins who crossed
K
I30 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the Kamba-la, must have beheld the same sight, and yet
they have not disclosed anything of the imposing scene
displayed before the eyes of the traveller as he looks
northwards.
At length they crossed the Tsangpo in the boats of yak
hides, which are used at the present day, and on the morning
of January 5, 1741, " il Padre Prefetto " (Delia Penna) and
Father P^loriano hurried on to Lhasa to put in order the
dwelling in which all were to meet on the following day.
Beligatti followed at the head of the rest of the party ; he
passed the large Brebung monastery on the left, skirted
the outer wall of the Potala, and entered the holy city on
January 6.
At the end of his narrative Beligatti tells of the hand-
some monasteries, Sera and Galdan, of the manner in which
the missionaries were received by the " King," of their
visit to the Chinese Resident, of a Tibetan banquet, of the
temple festivals at the New Year, and of the entry of the
Grand Lama into Lhasa.
A large part of the original manuscript has been lost,
but the portion which has been unearthed from the dusty
twilight of the library archives, and has been published 160
years after it was written, throws new light on the life of
the Capuchins in Lhasa, and their toilsome journeys over
the Langur mountains and the Kamba-la. Thus, then,
Fra Cassiano also has at last emerged from the realm of
shadows, and has in the narrative of his journey raised a
worthy memorial of his life's work.
From Delia Penna's hand there is a description, as
excellent as it is short, of Chang-tang, the " Northern
Plain," as the Tibetans call the plateau land. It is entitled
" Breve Notizia del regno del Tibet." He speaks also of
the " Duchy of Dam," lying eight days' journey from Lhasa
and two from Nak-chu. There is now no such duchy, but
there is a village Dam, and a pass of the same name leads
over the Trans-Himalaya south-east of the Tengri-nor.
In a short essay Delia Penna devotes a few words to
the memory of the famous Dutch traveller Samuel van de
Putte, who journeyed between 1723 and 1738 from India
through Lhasa to Pekin, and returned to India by the same
xii THE CATHOLIC MISSIONARIES 131
route. Grueber and Dorville followed nearly the same
road as Hue and Gabet were afterwards to try. Van de
Putte stayed a long time in Lhasa, and then continued his
journey, disguised as a Chinaman, in the train of a Lama
embassy to the Son of Heaven, He died at Batavia in
1745. In his will he expressed a wish that all his manu-
scripts should be burned, for he feared that his short notes
written on loose leaves might be wrongly interpreted ; they
might convey erroneous notions of all the wonders he had
seen and experienced, and thus cast a slur on his name.
CHAPTER XIII
THE JESUITS d'aNVILLE THE FIRST ENGLISHMEN RITTER,
HUMBOLDT, AND HUC
When the great Emperor Kang Hi (1662-1722) had
rounded off the frontiers of his realm by the conquest of
Mongolia, Formosa, and Tibet, he decided in the year
1 708 to have a map compiled of his immense territories.
He entrusted the execution of this work to the learned
Jesuits, who sojourned in Pekin and enjoyed his especial
favour. At first he confined himself to the countries about
the Great Wall, but when the Jesuits, after the lapse of a
year, spread out a map 1 5 feet long before the eyes of the
Emperor, he was so delighted that he wanted his whole
empire to be surveyed in this manner. The Jesuits began
with Manchuria and the province Chi-li, a work which
occupied two years. After that not a year passed without
one or more provinces being added to the great carto-
graphical work. It reflects great credit on the Chinese
that the Jesuits found in every province home-made maps
that had been compiled long before. Only Tibet had
never been surveyed.
The most prominent of the Jesuits was Father Regis,
who lived 36 years in China, and wrote in Du Halde's
great work on this country articles on Korea and Tibet.
The Emperor Kang Hi sent an embassy to Lhasa to win
over the Tibetan princes to the policy of China, and the
envoy was also charged with the hopeless task of seeing
that a map of all the lands under the rule of the Dalai
Lama was compiled.
In the year 1711 this map was delivered to Father
132
CHAP. XIII THE JESUITS 133
Regis, who found it useless. The Emperor, however, did
not give up the scheme. Two Lamaist monks, who had
been educated in Pekin, were instructed to survey the
mountainous country from Sining to Lhasa and the sources
of the Ganges, and to bring to the Son of Heaven
revivifying water from that holy stream. In the year 1717
the map was completed and the Emperor sent it to his
friends the Jesuits.
After a few slight improvements which were made in
consideration of the school from which the two Lamaist
topographers came, the sheets of their survey were in-
corporated in the whole cartographical representation of
China, which was laid entire before the Emperor in the
year 17 18. A copy of this work was sent to the King of
France, and from it D'Anville drew his famous map, but
he also introduced improvements which were not always
successful.
Just at the time when the Lamaist monks were busy at
their work war broke out in Tibet, the Dzungarian Khan,
Tsagan Araptan, having despatched his commander-in-
chief, Seren Donduk, from Khotan to Lhasa with an army.
It is a unique record in the annals of warfare that an
invading army should march 900 miles through a hostile
country for the most part uninhabited and almost every-
where as high as Mont Blanc, and yet be successful. On
this campaign the Dzungarians crossed the Kwen-lun, the
Karakorum, and the Trans- Himalaya, but of their fortunes
we know little or nothing. We know, however, that the
country round Lhasa was plundered and devastated, the
temples robbed of their immense treasures, and that the
enemy put all the lamas that were caught in sacks and
carried them off to Tatary. The two lama topographers
very nearly fell into their hands. When they heard of the
approaching danger they hurried on their work and were
solely concerned for their own safety.
The result of their travels was D'Anville's map of the
year 1733, which was published in his atlas of China, 1737
(see Tra7ts-Himalaya, end of Vol. I.). We find on it lakes and
rivers that are difficult to identify; we find mountain ranges
which run in all directions, but mostly from north-east to
134 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
south-west, whereas the actual direction is from north-west
to south-east. As European geographers had no other map
than D'Anville's, they had to be content with his repre-
sentation. It seemed, however, at least clear that the
country north of the Tsangpo was a mountain land, and
that from the crests and peaks of those mountains rivers
rushed down and discharged into lakes without outlets.
For long the influence of D'Anville's map was percep-
tible in every European atlas. Such is the case with the
Tibet sheet in Stielers Handatlas of the year 1875. Later,
however, the whole area in which the central part of the
Trans- Himalaya lies, having a length of 560 miles and a
breadth of 75, was wiped out. Even the Tarok-tso and
Tabie - tsaka were sacrificed, two lakes which D'Anville
has reproduced very well. But how was one to know
what was good and what bad ? Everything was doubted.
No European had been there. What was old and unreliable
was rejected. Even in 1889 Dutreuil de Rhins refrained
from inserting any Tibetan ranges on his great map of
Central Asia, " car la plupart n'ont pas ^t^ meme entrevues
par les explorateurs modernes." Here there was work
enough for the travellers of the new age. A hundred and
ninety years after the first Chinese exploration a little order
was to be introduced into this labyrinth of mountains.
The deeply indented valleys of the Indo-Chinese rivers
have been considered to present the most intricate problems
in Asia. And with these must be reckoned the country
north of the Tsangpo. Through the efforts of Kang Hi
and his friends the Jesuits, an inextricable chaos of peaks
and crests began to peep out of the mist in the north.
Even to the end of the eighteenth century the geographers
of Europe seemed to have placed greater faith in the classi-
cal representation than in the Chinese. Afterwards the two
changed places, and D'Anville was preferred to Ptolemy.
Other sources were wanting, and when Major Rennell
says in the text accompanying his map of Hindustan,
published in 1785, that from the top of the Kamba-la
"may be seen towards the north a range of still higher
mountains covered with snow," we recognize Georgi's
statement almost word for word.
THE FIRST ENGLISHMEN 135
When George Bogle left Calcutta in May 1774 as
ambassador of the great Governor - General Warren
Hastings to the Tashi Lama, he was also enjoined to
question the natives about the countries lying between
Lhasa and Siberia. In his memorandum to the ambassador
Warren Hastings says :
Tibet is a cold, high, mountainous country. ... I have been
told that a large river forms a boundary between China and Tibet,
which was carefully guarded by the troops of both countries ; and
that Tibet received European commodities by the valley of Kash-
mir. But I have learned nothing satisfactory on these subjects,
. . . The great rivers of the south and east of Asia appear to issue
from its mountains. It is probably, therefore, the highest land in
the old continent, and this circumstance, together with the difficulty
of access to it, give it a striking analogy to the valley of Quito, in
South America.
Warren Hastings had a clearer head than Bogle. The
latter travelled to Tibet, crossed the Tsangpo and entered
the Shang valley, and repaired to the monastery Namling,
where he carried out his mission. But he made no inquiries
about the farther course of this road, by which a pundit
made his way just a hundred years later up to the Kha-
lamba-la pass in the Trans- Himalaya, and which on the
northern side runs down to the Tengri-nor. Though he
ascended for a considerable distance the Shang valley, one
of the southern valleys of the Trans- Himalaya, he has no
suspicion of the existence of this gigantic system. And
when he describes the character of Tibet in general terms
he says only that —
It is full of hills ; they might be called mountains . . . how-
ever, one has few of them to climb, the road leading through the
valleys. . . . The country is bare, stony and unsheltered ; hardly a
tree is to be seen, except in the neighbourhood of villages, and even
there in no great numbers.
Bogle is the first Englishman and one of the few Euro-
peans who have at any time come into contact with the
Trans- Himalaya. Yet he took no notice of it. He cannot
be compared with Desideri, Beligatti, and Delia Penna.
In 1783-84 Samuel Turner travelled to the ecclesiastical
court on a similar errand — to open up commercial relations
136 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
between Tibet and India — and brought back a fine map of
his route, the first existing 120 years later when Younghus-
band marched to Lhasa. Turner went only to Tashi-lunpo,
and from his windows in the monastery was able to see the
roads leading to Bhotan and Bengal, to Ladak and Kash-
mir, to Nepal, Lhasa, and China. He mentions the road to
Sining in a few words which are not at all to be compared
with Desideri's clear description of this route. On the
Trans- Himalaya he is silent; indeed he could see nothing
of its rocky ramparts from his windows in Tashi-lunpo.
But if he had questioned the monks he would at least have
learned something of the " nivosi montes " visible "ad
Boream," about which Georgi drew information from
Capuchin sources.
Equally blind to the mountainous region in the north
was the bold but very ignorant Thomas Manning, who
tried to reach Lhasa in 181 2 on his own account, and
succeeded. His report of the journey is marvellous for its
emptiness and stupidity. He does not even know the
name of Kamba-la, In Lhasa he hears nothing and learns
nothing. His path to the mysterious city is like the track
of a sailing ship on the sea, where the waves close up again
behind the vessel. Younghusband, who followed in the
steps of Manning a hundred years later, characterizes it as
a meagre description of an important journey.
In the same year William Moorcroft betook himself to
Manasarowar, and acquired there valuable information about
the holy lake. On his map a range of mountains runs
north of the lake, the Cailas mountains, but they are
drawn as if they were the escarpment of a plateau country
falling steeply to the basin of the lake. This, then, is the
part of the Trans-Himalaya of which Desideri speaks.
Desideri was there a hundred years earlier, but his descrip-
tion was not known until a hundred years after Moorcroft's.
During the first decade of the nineteenth century
several Englishmen visited Nepal. It would be cruel to
expect from them any new information about the mountains
to the north. In his excellent work. An Account of the
Kingdovi of Nepal (181 1), Kirkpatrick has practically
nothing to say about Tibet. But Francis Hamilton allows
XIII THE FIRST ENGLISHMEN 137
us to catch at least a glimpse of the Trans- Himalaya, when
he says that three ranges start from the Manasarowar, of
which the southern two belong to the Himalayas, while
the most northern approaches India only near the holy
lake, bearing in its central part the peak of Kailas. This
was told him by natives of Nepal, who also knew that the
most northern range lay to the north of the Indus and
Brahmaputra. He has not, however, ventured to extend
the chain eastward on his map. He has left it to others
to construct at the writing-table a continuous line of
mountains up to the Nien-chen-tang-la of the Chinese
maps. Of the salt lake, Tabie-tsaka, which had long been
known to the Chinese, Hamilton cites a doubtful report :
Borax and salt are said to be brought from a lake, which is
situated nearly north from Kathmandu, about fifteen days' journey
beyond the Brahmaputra. They are conveyed to Nepal on the
backs of a large kind of sheep, of which many have four horns, and
which seem to be the common beasts of burden in all the countries
towards the sources of the Indus, Ganges, and Brahmaputra.
Another hundred years passed away. The reign of
Ptolemy was over. The Chinese sources were discredited.
Europeans tried to draw aside the curtain from the forbidden
land themselves. But still the words "terra incognita"
stretched across the map to the north of India and the
Himalayas, a country which had remained a closed book
during the century.
In the year 1895 Professor Vasilief published in
St. Petersburg a description of Tibet, which had been
composed by a Mongol named Minkhul Khutukhtu, who
died in 1839, after having been employed in the lama
temples in Pekin. This author also is indefinite, and
states only that to the north of the Himalayas "there is a
snow-covered mountain chain, which, as many believe, is
identical with the Gandise (Kailas) ; but to me it seems
more correct to apply this name as nomen appellativum
not only to the Gandise but also to many thousands of
other mountains between Kabul and Kam " (eastern Tibet).
He mentions also " one of the four stormy snow-covered
mountains, the gNyanchen-tan-lkhai-gans-ri," the Nien-
138 TRANS-HIMALAYA
chen-tang-la of the Tibetans and Chinese. Minkhul Khu-
tukhtu knew, then, the two end columns in the east and
west, between which the mighty wrinkles of the Trans-
Himalaya are imprinted on the face of the earth.
A new period in the knowledge and geography of
central Asia opens with Karl Ritter. He distinguishes
two chains in the interior of Tibet ; the Khor mountains
which run from the Kwen-lun across to the Tengri-nor,
and the Dsang mountains which skirt the Tsangpo valley
on the north, are connected with the "extraordinarily lofty
glaciated group Nien-chen-tang-la," and stretch west of
the town Tsindo far towards the north-east.
In Ritter's time (1833) no other journeys had been
accomplished into the heart of Tibet than those I have
just described. His chief sources were therefore Klaproth's
translation of Chinese works. Ritter is the first who has
in a geographical handbook recognized Chinese learning
so far that, relying on it, he has spoken of a continuous
chain to the north of the Tsangpo. But he also accepts
as trustworthy information certain false statements which
may be traced back to mistakes of the lama topographers.
According to Ritter the Dsang range is the eastern con-
tinuation of the Gangdisri (Kailas), and the whole system
divides Tibet into two halves, the southern being the
inhabited Tibet proper, and the northern the land of the
Mongolian nomads.
The indistinct notions of the Chinese geographers have
accordingly been remodelled and systematized by Ritter.
He has made the oriental conception comprehensible and
acceptable also to the peoples of the West. But he readily
concedes that the knowledge of our Trans-Himalaya, which
he calls "the entirely unknown northern range," must at
the time be defective.
From the year 1833 we can then start with the fact
that the greatest geographer then living was convinced of
the existence of a continuous chain to the north of the
Tsangpo, though he held it to be quite unknown with
the exception of the mountain groups Kailas and Nien-
chen-tang-la,
The next man of importance is the great Alexander
^^'' ,.^-\ T^jK^
*>-;
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^
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79. The SuMMir of Kang-rinpoche.
Sketch by the Author.
XIII RITTER, HUMBOLDT, HUC 139
von Humboldt. He makes four huge mountain waves
extend east and west through all the interior of Asia : the
Altai, Tian-shan, Kwen-lun, and the Himalayas. Like
Ritter, he places the two ranges Khor and Dsang in the
high country between the Kwen-lun and the Himalayas,
and says of the Dsang that it skirts the long valley of the
Tsangpo, and runs from west to east in the direction of the
Nien-chen-tang-la, a very high summit between Lhasa
and the Tengri-nor.
In all this we recognize Ritter. The two German
geographers have made use of the same sources, the
statements of the lama topographers and other Chinese
works. Many of them were translated by Klaproth, and
Ritter and Humboldt drew their information from his
work. Humboldt showed (1844) that the Chinese sources
were more reliable than the Greek, Roman, Arabian, and
Indian. Many circumstances contributed to this result,
such as China's wars with peoples on the western boundary
of the empire, the great pilgrimages in Buddhistic Asia,
the religious reverence with which all lofty mountains
were regarded, and lastly the compass. And yet the
conspicuous parallelism which is characteristic of all the
ranges of Tibet never struck the Chinese, and consequently
Humboldt also was beguiled into assuming a meridional
ridge east of Manasarowar, a watershed between the Indus
and Sutlej on the north-west and the Tsangpo on the east.
Humboldt considers the mountain skeleton of Asia
very simple and regular, and on his map the various
systems were drawn with the greatest geometrical precise-
ness. Instead of the complicated ganglion of the Pamir
he has a meridional chain, the Bolor, which long figured
on maps of Asia. The Karakorum and the Trans-
Himalaya are absent from his review of the great mountain
systems, but they are to be found at least in fragments on
his map. He has no great faith in D'Anville's representa-
tion, and is of opinion that it originated in a time when the
most confused notions prevailed about the lofty mountains
of Tatary, and it was assumed that they ran off in every
direction without any defined order. And yet D'Anville
was, on the whole, nearer to the truth than Humboldt.
I40 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
In order not to lose the red thread in the knowledge of
the Trans- Himalaya, we must remember that both Ritter
and Humboldt represented the Dzang mountains north of
the Tsangpo as one continuous chain. This quite erro-
neous conception has later been obstinately adhered to,
though it is a step backwards compared to D'Anville's
idea of southern Tibet.
On my return in the year 1909 I was astonished to find
a statement in the Geographical J otirnal that my Trans-
Himalaya had been known "for more than half a century."
It was affirmed that Brian Hodgson showed it on his map
as the Nyenchhen Thangla chain, and added in his text,
"separating southern from northern Tibet." The other
authorities supposed to have taken part in this discovery
are Nain Sing, Ryder, Wood, Rawling, Markham, Saunders,
Atkinson, and Burrard.
What, then, I had considered to be one of the most
important discoveries any one could make in Asia had,
forsooth, been known in England for more than fifty years.
As far back as the year in which I was born (1865) the
great pundit, Nain Sing, travelled up the Tsangpo, and he
shows on his map an uninterrupted mountain system up
in the north. But of a continuous mountain system on the
north side of the river he says not a word, and he has not
marked it on his map. Ryder, Rawling, Wood, and Bailey
made in 1904, after the march to Lhasa, a brilliant expedi-
tion, especially as regards topographical and trigonometrical
work. They followed in the footsteps of Nain Sing, and
had no opportunity of leaving the Tsangpo valley and
making an excursion into the unknown country north of it.
As to the other authorities none of them was in Tibet.
The last edition of the sheet Tibet in Stielers Hand-
atlas, issued before my last incursion into the forbidden
land, shows nothing but a white patch to the north of the
Tsangpo, and at the same time only the word " Unex-
plored " covered this region on the Royal Geographical
Society's map of Tibet. And yet the country had been
known for more than fifty years ! Is it conceivable that
the writer of the short notice referred to had sources of
knowledge unknown to the Royal Geographical Society,
XIII RITTER, HUMBOLDT, HUC 141
and that the Geographical Institute of Justus Perthes in
Gotha, the first in the world, had made the blunder of
forgetting the records from which the blanks on the map
might have been filled up ?
The short notice made a great sensation, and went the
round of the world's periodicals, and not least in Sweden,
where it appeared in the papers on the day in January on
which I reached home. What was the public to believe ?
Had I gone blindly to work, and had I claimed a priority
rightly due to others ?
We have followed step by step the explorations on the
outer edge of the Trans- Himalaya down to the time of
Humboldt, and have thus far found no fixed and certain
points but Kailas and the Nien-chen-tang-la. Now we are
on the threshold of the period for which Hodgson has been
chosen as the standard-bearer. It will be worth our while
to examine closely the sources and the data which have
been brought forward as possessing a claim to accuracy.
To me this is an affair of honour. I have waited three
years, but it takes time to search in the recesses of
libraries.
Brian Hodgson was born in the year 1800; he went
in 18 18 to India, and two years later betook himself to
Nepal, where he acted as Vice-Resident from 1825 to 1833
and as Resident from 1833 ^o 1843. After he had stayed a
long time in Darjiling, and had been altogether forty years
in India, he returned home and died there in 1894, after a
life of constant pioneer work, both as an investigator in
humanistic and natural science and as a diplomat and
politician.
Two years after Hodgson's death Sir William Hunter
published his biography in a volume of nearly four hun-
dred pages. I have read the book through from the first
page to the last. It contains lists of innumerable articles
and essays on every imaginable subject, which Hodgson
scattered in profusion among periodicals in various
languages. Yet in this memoir, which gathers together
the most minute particulars of a brilliant career, not a word
is said of the Nien-chen-tang-la, and not a line is devoted
to the mountains north of the Tsangpo.
142 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Well, then, it may be that the biographer has omitted
the most important link in an otherwise complete chain.
We have therefore no choice but to turn to Hodgson's own
writings.
In an article [Journal of the Asiatic Society of Be^igal,
1S53, note on p. 122), the contents of which are chiefly
on a linguistic subject, Hodgson says of the Nien-chen-
tang-la :
This important feature of the geography of Tibet is indicated
by the Nian-tsin-tangla of Ritter's " Hoch Asien " and by the
Tanla of Hue. I have, following native authority, used in a
wide sense a name which those writers use in a contracted sense ;
and reasonably because the extension, continuity and height of the
chain are indubitable.
That is all ! Not a word on what Ritter twenty years
before had stated in a fuller and more systematic manner.
For the rest Hodgson speaks only of the property of the
chain as a boundary wall between northern and southern
Tibet and of the Turkish and Mongolian tribes that are
said to dwell on its northern side. Hodgson's entire
originality consists in having clothed Ritter's description in
other words. His error of bringing into connection Ritter's
Nien-chen-tang-la and Hue's Tanla, and combining into one
chain two systems running parallel to each other, with an
interval of two degrees of lattitude, was an exceedingly
unfortunate misconception, of which Ritter had already
been guilty several years before Hue's journey.
In the year 1856 Hodgson made the conjecture that
the Karakorum and the Nien-chen-tang-la belonged to
one and the same system. But Humboldt, with whom
Hodgson was in correspondence, had expressed the same
opinion in 183T. In 1853 Hodgson sees in the Nien-chen-
tang-la a worthy rival of the Kwen-lun and the Himalayas,
but three years later he adopts Humboldt's four systems,
the Altai, Tian-shan, Kwen-lun, and Himalayas, without
even mentioning the Nien-chen-tang-la. The statement
that this chain divides northern from southern Tibet is
borrowed entirely from Ritter.
Hodgson published in 1857 the map which is repro-
duced at the end of the first volume of this book. It is
RITTER, HUMBOLDT, HUC 143
from first to last a fanciful representation in everything con-
nected with the mountains north of the Tsangpo. U'An-
ville had given us 124 years before from Chinese sources a
cartographical picture in which, as far as was possible, he
endeavoured to follow the actual contours, and in which
some details were strikingly accurate, especially the country
round the Manasarowar. But Hodgson spoiled everything,
both what was correct and what was defective.
Here we have to do with a retrograde step in our
knowledge of those mysterious mountains. The little that
was known in the 'fifties of the nineteenth century of the
Trans- Himalaya, and which for the most part bore the
label " made in Germany," Hodgson distorted, explained
incorrectly, and imported into England. If he had only
taken the trouble to cast a glance at Sttilpnagel's map ot
India and Tibet in Stielers Handatlas of the year 1849,
he would there have found a representation of Tibet which
contrasts as advantageously with his own as D'Anville's
map with that of Ptolemy.
The process was as follows : Klaproth translated the
Chinese authors, and his writings were quoted by Ritter
and Humboldt. Both these German authors were consulted
by Hodgson, but he filled in the space at his writing-table
out of his own head. It is easy to set down a range of
mountains on the blank space of a map theoretically and
without a shadow of proof, if one is convinced of its
existence. But no one has the right to appeal to the
result of such a process as to a gospel and a dogma, and
least of all at a time when it has at last been proved that
such a mountain chain does not exist, and when the central
Trans -Himalaya has been resolved into a labyrinth of
different ranges.
This is how the matter stands with regard to the state-
ment that Hodgson knew these mountains more than fifty
years before my journey.
On their famous journey in 1845-46 from Manchuria to
Lhasa, the two Lazarists, Hue and Gabet, crossed the whole
of eastern Tibet, and in so doing passed over the eastern
part of the Trans- Himalaya. Near Kuku-nor they with
several Mongolian caravans joined themselves to a Tibetan
144 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
embassy which was on its way home. The whole company
numbered 2000 Tibetans and Tatars ; all the horsemen
were armed and 500 Chinese soldiers escorted the embassy
to the Tibetan frontier ; 1 5,000 yaks and 1 200 camels carried
the bac^f^age, and 1 200 horses bore riders. In his admirable
description of the journey Hue exclaims : " How astonished
these endless silent deserts must be when they are so
suddenly surprised by such a great tumultuous party ! "
Kuku-nor was left behind and the travellers came up to
the highlands of Tibet where difficulties soon accumulated
in their way.
The deserts of Tibet are certainly the most dreadful country
conceivable. The ground seems to rise continuously, the vegetation
grows poorer the farther we advance, and the temperature falls
alarmingly. Now death, too, began to lie in wait for our poor
caravan. Want of water and fodder soon exhausted the strength
of the animals. Beasts of burden had to be left behind daily, for
they could drag themselves along no farther. Afterwards came
the men's turn.
On the stupendous heights to the south of the Murui-
ussou or upper Yang-tse-kiang, horses, mules, and camels
died in shoals, and forty men had to be left behind.
Father Gabet was then attacked by an illness which put
an end to his life before he could return to France.
Then we began to ascend the huge chain of the Tanla
mountains. After six days' climbing over the slopes of mountains
lying as in an amphitheatre behind and above one another, we
reached at last that famous plateau which is perhaps the highest
country in the world. From the margin of the grand plateau we
perceived at our feet peaks and summits which surmounted various
gigantic mountain groups, their farthest offshoots extending to the
horizon.
Nakchu on the Salwin was the first Tibetan village.
There were black Tibetan tents as well as Mongolian
kibitkas. We are now approaching the eastern wing of
the Trans- Himalaya, and wait with eagerness to learn what
an educated European, who travelled right across the
system, has to relate about it ; he must surely have some-
thing to say. Yet Hue hardly mentions those mountains,
and we have only an inkling of their presence in the
xm RITTER, HUMBOLDT, HUC 145
following sentence : " The road leading from Nakchu to
Lhasa is in general stony and very troublesome, and when
the range of the Koiran mountains is reached, it is very
trying." These Koiran mountains are the eastern continua-
tion of the Nien-chen-tang-la, and therefore a part of the
Trans-Himalaya ; apparently they made no very deep
impression on Father Hue.
Soon the road becomes better, villages and fields occur
more frequently, and after a last tiring pass the two Lazarists
enter the city of the Dalai Lama on January 29, 1846.
Hue is one of the most brilliant and sympathetic personalities
that have ever written their name on the brow of Asia.
CHAPTER XIV
THE TRANS-HIMALAYA FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE NINE-
TEENTH CENTURY UP TO THE PRESENT
I N the middle of last century three famous English doctors —
Hooker, Thomson, and Campbell — contributed in a merit-
orious manner to extend in Europe the knowledge of the
Himalayas, their geology and natural characteristics. They
did not extend their theories beyond their own range of
vision, and carefully abstained from building up mountain
ranges which would perhaps in a few years have fallen to
pieces.
Sir Joseph Hooker (1848-50) saw from the pass
Donkia-la, which forms the boundary between Sikkim and
Tibet, on the farthest horizon to the north-west and north
of Nepal, " some immense snowy mountains, reduced to
mere specks on the horizon," and adds that snow-topped
range rose over range in the clear purple distance. He
was convinced that they lay beyond the Tsangpo in the
country of the salt lakes, where the most conspicuous
characteristic features were the immense heights and the
colours which contrasted sharply with the dark, snow-clad
rocks of the Himalayas. The distance to these mountains
seemed to him enormous. Previously he had looked upon
Tibet as a flat country falling in sloping steppes gently
to the Tsangpo valley. It is difficult to make out from
Hooker's description which mountains he meant, but in his
remarks about the view from the Donkia-la we seem to
catch a glimpse of the Trans- Himalaya, and to find a sug-
gestion of a world of unknown mountains — " nova quaedam
series elatiorum nivosorumque montium ad Boream."
146
8o. The Robber Chief, Kamba Tsenam.
Sketch by the Author.
CHAP. XIV IN RECENT TIMES 147
Hooker looks upon the highlands round the Manasaro-
war as an important centre from which four mountain
ranges diverge — the eastern Himalayas, the north-western
Himalayas, the Kwen-lun, and " the chain north of the
Yaru (Tsangpo) of which nothing is known."
Hooker published his Hhnalayan Journals in the year
1854. The year before appeared the article in which
Hodgson mentioned the Nien-chen-tang-la. If Hodgson
had really known these mountains. Hooker would not have
described the country north of the river as a terra incognita,
and he would have been less likely to do so, because the two
explorers were personal friends and were in the forefront
of the progress of their time, especially in their knowledge
of the Himalayas.
Sir Alexander Cunningham introduced the name Trans-
Himalaya in the year 1854, giving it to the range which
separates the upper Sutlej from the Indus. But as this
range is part of the Himalayas proper the name soon dis-
appeared from geographical literature. For the mountains
north of the Manasarowar he proposed the name Kailas
or Gangri range, which was retained for a long time after.
But about the direction of the range, or even of its prolonga-
tion beyond the Kailas mountain, Cunningham does not
say a word, or even make a guess about it.
In the year 1865 occurred Nain Sing's famous journey.
He belonged to Captain Montgomerie's school of topo-
graphers, which was composed of experienced pundits or
educated Hindus and natives from the upper valleys of
the Himalayas. Montgomerie drew up the plan for Nain
Sing's journey of discovery, and provided his protege with
a sextant, a compass, a chronometer, thermometers, and
other instruments. The pundit travelled on foot and took
with him a prayer-mill and a rosary. In the former he
kept thin strips of paper on which he noted down his
observations, and he let a bead of the latter pass through
his fingers every hundred paces, reckoning in this way the
distance he had traversed.
Nain Sing started from Khatmandu. We cannot follow
him step by step. He visited Lhasa, passed up the Tsangpo
valley to the Manasarowar, and returned to British India
148 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
after a six months' journey. Montgomerie worked out
Nain Sing's results and expressed his disappointment that
it was so difficult to gather an idea of the country from the
pundit's description.
Between Manasarowar and Tradum, Nain Sing saw no
important heights. A litde farther east the mountains were
even fairly low. Still farther east, however, appeared to
the north a very high snowy range which ran parallel to
the Tsangpo for 20 miles. From the Kamba-la, where the
Capuchins caught sight of lofty snow mountains, the pundit
saw only comparatively low elevations.
Any one who has passed through the Tsangpo valley
will understand the pundit's impressions. Except Desideri,
only five Europeans have seen this country, and of these
four belonged to the same party, namely, those under the
leadership of Captain Rawling. I followed in their track
three years later. Crests and ramifications lying close at
hand shut out the view towards the north. Where Nain
Sing could see no heights of importance to the north, I
crossed a range by the Ding- la, a pass not less than
19,308 feet high. Such secrets are not to be discovered
from the Tsangpo valley, for the southernmost offshoots are
as little transparent as other mountains. It is not enough
to look at the margin of an unknown country ; if we would
know what is hidden in the interior, we must cross it along
several lines. There, a little farther to the east, where the
height of the mountains seemed to Nain Sing to diminish
still more, are hidden to the north the mighty central ranges
of the Trans-Himalaya, the Lunpo-gangri, the Lunkar, the
Lapchung, and the Kanchung-gangri. Of the lofty snowy
range the pundit mentions I have seen only the western
part which belongs to the Kanchung-gangri. Nain Sing
travelled a distance of 400 miles between Shigatse and the
Marium-la, of which only 90 were immediately along the
north bank of the river. The journey of the pundit
revealed nothing of a continuous mountain system, nay,
nothing of an unbroken range, and could not reveal any-
thing of it. Montgomerie has no suspicion of its existence,
at any rate he does not mention it. He does not refer to
Hodgson's hypothetical range, and makes no allusion to the
XIV IN RECENT TIMES 149
Nien-chen-tang-la. Only on the map to Nain Sing's
narrative one notices mountains skirting the river which
might, however, very well be the outer edge of a plateau.
In this respect D'Anville gives us more. We are not
content with the peripheral parts of this terra incognita so
difficult to conquer ; we must force the outer works and
penetrate into the interior.
Pundits effected such an incursion to the north in the
year 1867 on their journey to Tok-jalung. As usual the
plan was made by the indefatigable Montgomerie. The
Aling-gangri was discovered, a snow-clad mountain group,
the relation of which to the Trans-Himalaya has not yet
been ascertained. On this journey one of the pundits
approached the source of the Indus within five days' journey,
but was driven back by robbers. Thus the discovery of
the Singi-kabab, the source of the Indus, was postponed for
forty years, and fell to my lot.
In 1868 those regions were again visited by pundits.
They heard of Selipuk and the Nganglaring-tso, and I sub-
sequently confirmed their existence by visiting those places.
In connection with the discoveries of the pundits in
western Tibet, Sir Henry Rawlinson expressed the view
that if a traveller were once over the Indus and the inner
northern range, he would find himself up on the plateau of
Tatary, and could drive with horse and carriage to the
great desert without crossing a single pass. In a carriage
over the Karakorum, the Arka-Tag, and the Kwen-lun,
where one may thank God if one gets over safely on horse-
back ! So little was known forty years ago of the highest
mountain land in the world. It is amusing to read how
the great geographers of that time argued for or against
the existence of those mountains. As a rule they only
" believed " that the configuration was so or so, but why,
no one knew. Rawlinson only believed that a man could
drive to Eastern Turkestan. And yet it became evident
to Strahlenberg during his long sojourn in Siberia after
the wars of Charles XII., that Eastern Turkestan must be
bounded on the south by mighty mountains.
One of Montgomerie s natives accomplished an im-
portant journey in 1871-72, passing up the Shang valley
I50 TRANS-HIMALAYA
to Namling, as Bogle had done a hundred years before.
He was not content, like Bogle, with the Namling monas-
tery, but continued his journey northwards, and crossed the
Kalamba-la pass to the "great heavenly lake," the Tengri-
nor. This route was to serve for thirty-five years as the
eastern boundary of the land which still remained unknown
when I started on my last journey.
The traveller could see from a monastery by the lake a
number of fine grand snow peaks which are called the
Ninjinthangla. The lamas said that the highest peak
was a god, and that three hundred and sixty smaller snow
peaks surround it which serve as his suite. From the lake
shore all these peaks presented an imposing appearance.
This was the first time that a trustworthy traveller con-
firmed the existence of the famous Nien-chen-tang-la,
which the Capuchins had seen raising its sun -bathed
bonnets of snow above a petrified sea of bare many-
coloured rocks.
On his return the traveller crossed the Trans-Himalaya
a second time by the pass Dam-largen-la, and in the village
of Dam recalled to memory Delia Penna's duchy of the
same name.
Montgomerie was justly proud of the harvest thus
gathered in, and wrote in 1875 that he had tried from time
to time to obtain enlightenment about the unknown country
to the north of the river by means of the men he sent out.
But even then he did not speak of a continuous chain.
Only the Nien-chen-tang-la was known through the
crossing of the Kalamba - la and the Dam - largen - la.
Westwards the land was still terra incognita. Mont-
gomerie did not suspect that this alluring inscription would
stand for thirty-one years more on English maps.
The great Nain Sing set out again in 1873, this time
from Leh to Lhasa, and at the instance of Captain Trotter.
This journey is one of the most brilliant ever achieved in
Tibet. He found the Targot Lha, my Targo-gangri, which
had already appeared on D'Anville's map, discovered a
range which runs thence for 180 miles eastwards, and fixed
a number of its summits. He saw the Targo-gangri only
from a distance of 100 miles and the range from 60 miles.
XIV IN RECENT TIMES 151
Much that he says is therefore incorrect, and, what is worse,
he inserted farther south, from mere rumours, large rivers
which figured for thirty years on all maps of Tibet, until
I was able to remove these imaginary streams from the
earth for ever.
After Nain Sing had discovered a series of large lakes
he proceeded lastly over the Dam-largen-la to Lhasa, and
when he returned to Calcutta he had executed a survey of
1200 miles of unknown country.
During their journeys from 1865 to 1875 the pundits
crossed four passes of the Trans -Himalaya, two in the
west and two in the east. They defined by their routes
the limits of the unknown mountain country, which, as late
as 1906, was marked on all maps by blank spaces with the
inscription " Unexplored."
The story of the Himalayas goes farther back ; it
begins in the mythical obscurity of the Indian hymns,
and the outlines of these mountains stand out clearly in
classical literature. The Chinese knew the Kwen-lun from
remote times, and it is on European maps of the beginning
of the eighteenth century, though in rough outlines and only
partially. But the Trans- Himalaya! How hopeless has
the contest been against its giants ! Heated controversies
have often been carried on by learned men on the structure
of the Himalayas, on the architecture of the Kwen-lun and
the Karakorum. But no sound has disturbed the crests of
the Trans-Himalaya, the silence of ignorance has reigned
on its heights, an eloquent, unbroken, and solemn silence.
The country was unknown. While waiting for exact
information first hand, men took the side of D'Anville or
Klaproth. Students at home could draw mighty ranges
across the blank spaces of the map at their own will and
pleasure without criticism having a word to say against
them. Not till the years 1906-8, when the central ranges
had been discovered, did a slight dispute arise. This is
always the way of the world. Imagination is tolerated,
but the truth is rejected.
For a long period of years Henry Strachey was the
chief authority on the geography of Tibet. On his im-
portant journey in 1846 to the Manasarowar he saw from
152 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the Himalayan pass Lankpya Dhura, "through the open-
ing northwards, a ghmpse of distant blue mountains, part
of the Gangri range, perhaps, on the north side of the
Sutlej." On his way to the lake he made the following
observation :
The north - west horizon is bounded by the Gangri range of
mountains moderately tipped with snow, and remarkable for the
deep purple-blue colour of their inferior rocky parts ; and about
the middle of this range rises the snow-capped Peak of Kailas,
somewhat higher than the rest of the line. I do not believe these
mountains are nearly so lofty as the main ranges of the Indian
Himalaya.
He takes the Marium-la for the eastern boundary pillar of the
Gangri range, and does not believe in the existence of any
ranges north of the Tsangpo ; for beyond the Marium-la
"eastward, extends table-land with smaller, more irregular
and detached hills, all the way to Lhassa, and as far as my
informant knows to the northward." At that time, then,
some believed in the existence of a huge range, others in
a flat plateau studded with scattered hills.
The brothers Schlagintweit, the first Europeans who
crossed the whole great upheaval of Tibet between India
and Eastern Turkestan, knew of three systems, the
Himalayas, Karakorum, and Kwen-lun. They regarded
the Karakorum as the backbone of inner Asia, which was
prolonged westwards by the Hindu-kush and branched out
in the east — how could they know this, as no one had been
there ? Tibet is a valley bordered by the Karakorum and
the Himalayas. This view Hermann von Schlagintweit did
not alter even after Nain Sing's first journey, which shows
that he did not at all receive the impression from the
pundit's description that there was another range bordering
the Tsangpo valley on the north. But the existence of the
Nien-chen-tang-la could not be overlooked, so this range
was simply connected with the southern branch of the
Karakorum, and thus came into existence a monstrous
bastard between two different ranges.
In his book Indische Alte7'tumskunde, which appeared
in 1867, Christian Lassen has attempted to draw the main
lines of the mountain skeleton of Asia according to the
IN RECENT TIMES 153
knowledge of his time. He conceives the Kailasa or the
Gangdisri range, the western wing of the Trans- Himalaya,
to be a ramification of the Karakorum, which is itself an
offshoot from the Kwen-lun. In the Kailas peak the
Gangdisri range comes into contact with the Himalayas,
without, however, belonging to them. Lassen therefore
builds a bridge of mountains from the Pamir to the
Himalayas, and with all his diligence cannot ascertain that
the various ranges belong to different systems and are
parallel folds of the earth's crust.
The noted geographers Sir Clements Markham and
Trelawney Saunders discussed in the middle of the
'seventies of the nineteenth century the structure of the
Himalayas, and at the same time alluded to its connection
with the mountains in the north. Markham distinguishes
three ranges — the southern, which bears the great peaks of
the Himalayas ; the middle, which is the watershed between
the Ganges and Brahmaputra ; and the northern, which is
a prolongation of the Karakorum. He therefore includes
the Trans- Himalaya, so far as it was known, in the system
of the Himalayas and calls it the " northern range." He
places on its southern flanks the sources of the Indus,
Brahmaputra, and Sutlej. I have succeeded in proving
that the Sutlej and Brahmaputra rise on the northern flank
of the Himalayas, and that the source of the Indus lies to
the north of the western Trans-Himalaya, though all three
rivers receive largre affluents from other directions.
Saunders considers the Kwen-lun to be the northern
boundary of the Tibetan highlands and says :
But all detailed knowledge of the interior of this extraordi-
nary country is wanting, and it must continue a sealed book
to Europeans until friendly pressure is put upon the Government
of Peking to allow European intercourse between India and the
Chinese dominions.
Several leaves of this sealed book belong to the chapter
Trans- H imalaya.
Saunders' text is not quite clear. At one time he says :
" The mountains on the north of the Sanpu are the contre-
forts, buttresses, slopes or escarpments of the table-land
154 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
which they support," and at another time declares that
"the Ganq^ri Range is only known at its extremities."
The last affirmation was correct and remained so for thirty
years. In September I telegraphed to the reporter of
the Thnes at Simla: "The eastern and western parts of
the Trans- Himalaya were already known, but its middle
and highest part lies in Bongba and was unexplored."
Saunders maintains that a mountain system must be
crossed before it can be said to be known, and he points
out that these mountains had never been crossed along
a single line between the Manasarowar and the Tengri-
nor. He repeats Ritter's mistake of making the Nien-chen-
tang-la continue northwards and merge into the Tanla
of Father Hue.
On the other hand Saunders does not hesitate a
moment to insert Hodgson's hypothetical range on his
map (a copy is given at the end of Vol. I.), which he
endeavours to fit in as well as he can with some of
D'Anville's lakes and rivers. The result has a certain
appearance of probability but no resemblance to the truth.
How little was known of these mountains is proved by the
fact that Saunders, in the year 1 877, drew a single continuous
range to the north of the river, while Richthofen in the
same year — in his famous work China — set down four
parallel ranges in the west, two and three in the middle, and
one in the east. Both were equally wrong ; it could not be
otherwise. Neither had been there, and each could design
his map in the manner which seemed to him most probable.
In his work The Himalayan Districts of the North-
western Provinces of India {i^^2), E. T. Atkinson mentions
cursorily a range of high peaks north of the river, but he
adds that it is impossible to give a general description of
the Tibetan highlands based on actual observation. But
from the litde that is known, he thinks it may be assumed
that Tibet is crossed by lofty mountains, and it seems to
him certain that the Kwen-lun and the Himalayas are
the northern and southern margins of the country. The
map which Atkinson published in his book is a copy
of Saunders' map, but yet Atkinson is referred to as an
authority on the Trans- Himalaya. He could, of course,
XIV IN RECENT TIMES 155
have read in books what had been achieved in the western
and eastern parts, but of the main mass, the central regions,
he had not, and could not have, the slightest smattering of
knowledge.
In the same year, 1882, Elis^e R^clus issued the
seventh volume of his admirable Nouvelle G^ographie
Universelle, wherein he suggests the name Trans- Himalaya
for the northernmost range of the Himalayas which runs
immediately beside the Tsangpo on the south. Cunningham
had confined this name to a range in the west. Of our
more northern mountains R6clus says : " On the north of
the depression, in which the Tsangpo flows, is the Tibetan
plateau, carved by running water into innumerable valleys."
He assumes, however, like the Englishmen, the existence
of a great range, the Gang-dis-ri north of the Tsangpo, and
makes it join the Nien-chen-tang-la in the east.
About the year 1896 Richthofen wrote the Tibetan
chapter of the third volume of his work China, which was
only published a short time ago by Dr. Ernst Tiessen,
seven years after the death of the Professor. Richthofen
there collected all the notices that exist on the mountains
of Tibet, and came to the conclusion that a very lofty
range, already indicated by D'Anville, rises to the south
of the Tengri-nor, which abounds in glaciers and rocky
pinnacles, and extends from west-south-west to east-north-
east, and forms the watershed between the Tengri-nor and
the Ki-chu, the river of Lhasa. Westwards this range
takes a more westerly direction, and from its southern
flank the water flows down to the Tsangpo. He seeks in
vain to obtain an idea of the geographical configuration of
the country from the maps of Nain Sing, Bower, and
Littledale — from them such a " scheme is not to be drawn."
But here he refers to the country north of the Trans-
Himalaya. If countries which had been traversed by
three travellers still remained obscure, what could be
expected of those in which no one had been ? There the
imaginary continuous chain, called sometimes Nien-chen-
tang-la, sometimes Gangri, Gang-dis-ri, or Kailas, had
been so firmly fixed in the minds of many that even Richt-
hofen believed in its existence.
156 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
But if we search through writings and examine records
with the microscope of criticism, we look in vain for infor-
mation about the proper central Trans-Himalaya. In
past years we find not a line, not a single word about it.
We come always upon Kailas and the Gangri mountains
in the west and the Nien-chen-tang-la in the east. There
Europeans and Asiatics have been. But if one inquires
about the range supposed to stretch like a bridge from the
one terminal pillar to the other, it turns out on close
examination that it has been constructed in Europe or
India, but has never been explored on the spot. It was a
creation of the imagination ; its days were numbered, and
when the time came it was found to have no claim to
existence.
When we now turn to the three European expeditions
which have come into contact with the Trans- Himalaya in
our own days, we find that they have all travelled to the
range and summits which have for ages been known by
the name Nien-chen-tang-la. They have confirmed the
existence of those mountains, but have thrown no new
light on our system.
Gabriel Bonvalot, accompanied by Prince Henry of
Orleans, accomplished in 1889 that remarkable journey on
which he traversed the whole of eastern Tibet and reached
the northern foot of the eastern Trans-Himalaya. Coming
from the north, Bonvalot approached Tengri-nor full of
expectation. At last the path led up the last elevation
which intercepted the view towards the south.
As we come to the top of the pass we catch sight of the Ninling
Tanla and the eastern edge of the lake. Hastening our steps, we
climb the neighbouring heights to enlarge our horizon. . . . The
Ningling Tanla holds our eyes the longest. This range stretches
just in front of us its snow-besprinkled crest and quite closes in
our view. The height and regularity of this line of grand summits
is astonishing ; they rise above spurs which descend to the lake,
drawn up in rank like the tents of a military camp. And the whole
is dominated by four lofty and majestic peaks of ice, which the
Tibetans worship, for behind them lies Lhasa, the spiritual city.
Turning our eyes to the northern shore of the lake we perceive no
snow on the small ridge which skirts it, while the flanks of the
Ningling Tanla are white, and the truth of the Tibetan saying is
82. Tibetan Hunter.
83. Monks with Clarinet and Conch.
Sketches by the Author.
IN RECENT TIMES 157
evident : " The water of the Namtso is formed from the snow ol
the Ningling Tanla."
It was not written in the stars that the noted French
expedition should cross the Trans- Himalaya and penetrate
into the forbidden land behind the high snow mountains.
But Bonvalot did ascend the Dam pass, where Nain Sing
had tried his luck.
Immediately to the south of the Ningling Tanla
appears on Bonvalot's map a second and higher range with
the text : " Sommets tres eleves (dominant la chaine)," a
feature in the sculpture not to be found in any other map.
Even here in the part of the system best known at that
time the data are extremely contradictory.
Four years later another French expedition beheld the
heavenly lake, that of Dutreuil de Rhins and Grenard,
who writes :
On November 30 we discovered, from the top of the last ridge,
the lake of heaven, which is honoured as sacred and divine, its
dark calm blue contrasting strongly with the blinding white of the
mountains with their thousand peaks, which rise from the southern
shore and resemble the waves of a stormy sea.
The expedition was stopped by the Tibetans, and fifty
days were wasted in useless negotiations. After a short
visit to the foot of the Dam pass, the Frenchmen had to
draw off north-westwards, where a sad fate was to befall
Dutreuil de Rhins, who fell a victim to Tibetan bullets.
The explorer St. George Littledale was more fortunate
when he came to the lake of spirits from the north in 1895.
Like his predecessors, he was struck by the magnificent
view.
On the south it (the lake) was fringed by the magnificent range
of the Ninchen-Tangla — a succession of snow-clad peaks and
glaciers, partially hidden in clouds and vapour, which added to
their size and grandeur, while above all towered with clififs of
appalling steepness the great peak of Charemaru, 24,153 feet.
In this name we recognize D'Anville's " Tchimonran."
Littledale's route passed over the pass Goring-la. Since
the time of Father Hue no European had succeeded in
crossing the eastern Trans- Himalaya.
158 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
A new point of departure was marked in the year 1904
by the journey of the four officers, Ryder, Rawling, Wood,
and Bailey, after the English expedition to Lhasa, when
they travelled on the track of Nain Sing up the Tsangpo.
The chief result of this journey is the exact survey of the
valley and the triangulation which connected all visible
summits. Ryder described this journey to the Royal
Geographical Society in London. He certainly mentions
a snowy range with summits attaining to a height of
23,200 feet which was visible from the hills lying north
of Tradum. But neither he nor Rawling in his book on
the journey says a word about any continuous mountain
system ; rather he discountenances the view that such
exists, and we find none shown on his map. There it
seems as though there were the margin of a plateau country
bearing scattered summits. It was not until I had in
India an opportunity of imparting my results to Major
Ryder that he readily admitted that " a lofty complicated
mountain system " runs north of the Tsangpo parallel to
the Himalayas.
Now the last visitor to the Trans- Himalaya before my
journey remains to be mentioned. In the year 1905 Count
de Lesdain came down from the north, and at the sight
of the heavenly lake and the peaks rising to the sky,
exclaimed :
Towards evening on September 13 we discovered the Tengri-
nor, which stretched out majestically in front of us. It is impossible
to conceive a more beautiful and grander spectacle. Beyond its
broad deep-blue mirror appeared the huge chain Nien-chen-tang-la,
covered with eternal ice. The highest points were reflected in the
calm transparent water of the lake. These stupendous heights
form a more glorious frame than any of the Swiss lakes can boast of.
That is all ! We can only conclude from his small
sketch-map that he crossed the Trans -Himalaya by the
Kalamba-la, and therefore by the route already known since
1872 from the journeys of the pundits. He says nothing
of a connected system.
It seems as though a magic charm hovered round the
summits of the Nien-chen-tang-la. They rise like the
points of a kingly crown high above the earth, higher than
XIV IN RECENT TIMES 159
any other part of the Trans-Himalaya. Thus they looked
for endless ages on the nomads before northern Buddhism
had penetrated into Tibet ; thus they looked down on the
Chinese who collected the first notices of the holy land ;
they excited the admiration of the Capuchins as a line
" nivosorum montium ad Boream" ; they cast a pale reflexion
of the abode of eternal snow into the study where the
learned Klaproth dived into the annals of the Chinese ; and
they illumined the now faded leaves stored in German
archives, to which the old masters Ritter and Humboldt
confided their thoughts. They excited the astonishment
of the intrepid pundits, who brought the first certain
information to Europe, shone like beacons before the three
French expeditions, which approached them from the north,
and even roused the quiet, imperturbable Littledale to a
burst of enthusiasm.
But the threads that have been spun round those giants
are few, and these few are weak. We know hardly any-
thing of those mountains. Rhapsodies, full of poetic
expressions, that is really all. There are glaciers and firn-
fields, which are reflected in the azure-blue lake, giddy
heights, and restricted horizons. But what else ? Photo-
graphs and maps there are none, and not a single rock
specimen has been taken from the lap of the mountains.
And the passes to the east and west, the Dam-largen-la,
the Kalamba-la, and the Goring-la ! We must be thankful
that we at least have learned their names and heights.
The Nien-chen-tang-la is like a Catholic cathedral in
which a funeral mass is always being celebrated. One
approaches it in reverent silence. One is overwhelmed by
what one sees and is struck dumb. No one has succeeded
in breaking through the charm. Round the Nien-chen-
tang-la it is always peaceful. And before one is aware the
hymns have died away and one is again led out to the
black tents of the Tibetans.
And yet the Nien-chen-tang-la is a part of the Trans-
Himalaya. Six expeditions had visited it, four of which
had crossed the system. To the west of it no one had
been.
We owe the last theoretical representation of the Trans-
i6o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Himalaya to the map of Colonel S. G. Burrard in the first
part of his book A Sketch of the Geography and Geology of
the Himalaya Motmtains and Tibet, which appeared in the
year 1907, that is, about the time when I had made three
of my eight crossings of the mountains. On this map, too,
a range runs on the north of the upper Indus and the
Tsangpo. In its western part it is called the Kailas range,
in its eastern the Nien-chen-tang-la range. It forks, how-
ever, on the 85th meridian of east longitude ; the eastern
arm lies between the Raga- tsangpo and the Tsangpo.
Farther to the east the northern arm splits up again twice.
Such conclusions might be drawn from the material then
available, but as regards the central Trans- Himalaya they
had nothing to do with the reality.
After Littledale's lecture to the London Geographical
Society in 1896, the President of the Society, Sir Clements
Markham, rose and said :
I will say a few words respecting the chain of mountains which
Mr. Littledale actually crossed and which he mentions as throwing
up peaks 20,000 feet high, . . . These mountains are of the greatest
possible importance and interest ; they have only been crossed by
native explorers and by Mr. Littledale opposite the Tengri-nor, and
in the whole length from Tengri-nor to the Marium-la no one has
crossed them, so far as we know. One of the last suggestions by
General Walker was that a rough survey should be undertaken of
these northern parts of the Himalayan system, and I believe
nothing in Asia is of greater geographical importance than the
exploration of this range of mountains.
In the same year Sir Clenients Markham remarked in
a presidential address to the Society :
It is to the desirability of completing the exploration of this
mighty range that I am anxious to turn the attention of geographers.
. . . But I think that it is to the mountains which form its southern
buttressing wall, and which rise from the valley of the Tsanpu or
Brahmaputra, that the efforts of explorers should now be directed.
... It appears to be a magnificent range of mountains.
He goes on to speak of the work of the pundits and of
Littledale, and resumes :
This I believe to be the whole of the knowledge we now possess
of this most interesting range of mountains. . . . The portion of
84. Mendicant Lama.
Sketch by the Author.
XIV IN RECENT TIMES i6i
this northern Himalayan chain from Kailas to the Goring-la of
Littledale, a distance of 600 miles, requires to be explored. T . . A
more accurate knowledge of its configuration is a great geographical
desideratum. . . . Here, then, is a piece of work which is well
calculated to arouse the ambition of future explorers.
In another presidential address in 1899 Markham
repeats :
One of the most interesting pieces of geographical work that
remains to be achieved in Central Asia is the detailed examination
of the great chain of mountains bounding the Tsanpu valley on the
north.
Again in the year 1904 Markham complains :
In my address of 1896 I drew attention to the importance of
exploring the great northern range of the Himalaya from Kailas to
the Goring-la of Littledale, and I got together all available informa-
tion on the subject. But this is a work which still remains to be
done.
In the autumn of 1905 I wrote the last chapters of my
book, Scientific ResiUts of a Journey in Central Asia, i8gg-
ig02, concluding with the following words :
The extreme south of Tibet, the Tsangpo valley, has recently
been investigated by members of the English expedition (Ryder
and Rawling) ; but all the wide region between this part and my
route to Ladak (i 901) is an absolute terra incognita. The explorer
who tries to give an account of the general features of the Tibetan
highlands will in this gap never fail to lose himself in guesses and
theories without an atom of foundation. Rather than expose
myself to such a risk I have determined to explore the unknown
country myself, and see it with my own eyes. Then only, when
the gap has been filled up and the blank spaces on our maps have
given place to new lakes, rivers and ranges, will it be possible to
give a correct picture of the morphology of the Tibetan highlands.
. . . Therefore I prefer to postpone a general description of the
country until my return from the journey on which I am about to
start. The work which I hope then to write must be considered an
immediate continuation and completion of this which I have now
brought to an end.
I therefore started with a definite object. The aim
of my journey was to fill up the huge area of the middle
Trans- Himalaya. How far I succeeded in carrying out
my plans is related in this book. The Trans-Himalaya
M
i62 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
was crossed along seven independent lines, the outlines of
its confii^uration were laid down on a map, and I proved
that the whole was a connected system, the greatest, indeed,
in the world. Instead of the single stereotyped range
which had been conceived in European studies, I found a
labyrinth of lofty ranges, and by this discovery wiped out
for' ever the "Unexplored" which appeared on English
maps in the region north of the Tsangpo.
After my lecture in London on February 23, 1909, a
communication from Sir Clements Markham was read in
which he said :
The so-called Nien-chen-tang-la mountains were unknown from
the Tengri-nor to the Maryum-la pass, and I always looked upon
their discovery, on those meridians, as the most important de-
sideratum in Asiatic geography for many reasons.
And he expressed his pleasure that the wished-for discovery
had been at last achieved.
What was known of the geology of the Trans- Himalaya
before 1906? The extreme tip of its western wing was
known where it touches British territory, and Stoliczka
was the first who tried some forty years ago to introduce
order into the confused chaos. In the east a line had been
determined, the road from Sikkim through Gyangtse to
Lhasa. The Director of the Geological Survey of India,
Dr. H. H. Hayden, who took part in Younghusband's
expedition, has given us geological maps and detailed
descriptions of the structure of that region.
But of the central part nothing was known. The side
of the moon turned towards the earth was better known as
regards its orography than the inner parts of the middle
Trans - Himalaya, so what could be expected of its
geological structure ? A single continuous chain had been
drawn theoretically on the north of the Tsangpo. As the
river received large tributaries from the north it was
safe to assume the existence of high mountains in their
source regions. But there was no foundation for geological
hypotheses. There was only one resource for any one who
wished enlightenment on the subject — let the mountains
speak for themselves.
XIV IN RECENT TIMES 163
At all the places where my route came in contact with
rocks in situ I took rock specimens, and there also I always
determined the strike and dip of the strata. On the other
hand, where rock in situ did not crop out, or could not be
reached, rock specimens were collected from the weathered
ruins of former mountains. It often happened that to spare
my horse and my own heart, I rode past a cliff rising too
high. Therefore in my series of 1 1 70 specimens many gaps
occur, which might easily have been filled up in a country in
which one has not constantly to fight against the deadly
rarefaction of the air. To put it plainly, there is often
the painful choice of killing one's horse or completincr the
collection of specimens. And as a journey in Tibet
depends almost entirely on the endurance of the caravan,
the collection must often suffer.
But every rock specimen from a hitherto unknown
country is a gain, and an undoubtedly extensive selection
of such specimens from one of the mightiest mountain
systems of the world must throw a clear light on the funda-
mental outlines of its architecture. I am therefore con-
vinced that the stones which I knocked out of the rocks of
the Trans- Himalaya during my toilsome wanderings will
give us at least a provisional insight into the geological
structure of the system, when they have been examined
under the microscope of an expert, compared together, and
exhibited on a map in cross sections with different colours.
They will give us some notion of the forces which were
active in the earth's crust when the brow of Asia was first
wrinkled by the folded ranges of the Trans- Himalaya,
when its crests were thrust upwards, and its towering peaks
lifted their icy battlements towards the sun.
After my return the geological material was entrusted
to Professor Anders Hennig of Lund. With unremitting
care and constantly growing interest he has plunged into
my collections, let the stones speak in their silent language,
and drawn out the secrets concealed in the form of crystals.
They have been like Tibetan bells, the metal of which has
been first made sonorous in Sweden. Every stone is to me a
souvenir of a pass, a camp, or a windy day — a microscopical
fragment of my own Trans- Himalaya. And Professor
1 64 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Hennig has received them with the same reverence with
which I entrusted them to him.
I perceive the defectiveness of my own share of the
work. My fellow - worker cannot wring more from the
insufficient' material than it is able to supply. But I believe,
nevertheless, that his conclusions will be held to mark
a new departure, for they give a geological purview of
a hitherto unknown land, extremely difficult of access,
and, besides, deal with one of the mightiest mountain
systems of the world. Professor Hennig's work will
appear shortly as a volume of the scientific results of my
last journey. The following lines, written by Professor
Hennig at my request, will certainly awaken interest
among geologists :
The older deposits consist of white, grey, or dark grey quartzites
and phyllitic schists, as well as subordinate beds of slaty crystalline
limestone ; the series is so strongly metamorphosed that if it
contained originally fossil remains, these are quite destroyed. The
series is penetrated by an intrusive formation mentioned below, and
in connection with the eruption has suffered a plainly perceptible
metamorphosis by pressure ; it is therefore older than the other.
Most certainly it forms a direct prolongation running east and west
of the Jurassic schists and quartzite with limestone which Hayden
has described from Lhasa and the country north-west of the town
of Gyangtse. The formation has its chief extension in the Brahma-
putra valley, but still it occurs, though very seldom, on the northern
flank of the Trans-Himalaya and in western Tibet.
Younger than this series are the dark grey and reddish lime-
stones which constitute the main mass of the base of the west
Tibetan highlands. The limestones contain species of Orbitolina
and radiolites, and correspond to the Aptian and Albian Ceno-
manian. Still younger sedimentary rocks, containing fossils, have
not been found in the region traversed by Dr. Sven Hedin.
The above-mentioned Jurassic and Cretaceous deposits are, as
stated, intersected by an eruptive formation, which, in the Brahma-
putra valley, consists of ultrabasic peridotites, varieties of gabbro
and granites, the first of which are often converted into serpentine.
This formation forms a part of the eruptive formations known both
in the eastern and western parts of the Himalayas which are in
general ascribed to the Eocene age. Within the Trans-Himalaya
itself it consists of intrusive granites (white granite associated with
alkali and lime, and grey hornblende granite or quartz biotitic diorite
of the Kyi-Chu type), pegmatites, granitic porphyries, diorite por-
85. Lama with a Temple Drum.
Sketch by the Author.
IN RECENT TIMES 165
phyrites, diabase, etc., of real vitrified surface lavas, as Hparites,
trachytes, dacites, andesites and basalts, as well as sub-aerial vol-
canic tuffs.
More recent than these formations, and lying unconformably
upon them, is a formation of greyish-green, violet or reddish-brown
conglomerates, sandstones, and schists, of which it has in many
cases been shown that it has been produced at the expense of the
porphyry-like intrusive rocks in the granites and peridotites, and
therefore is of later than Eocene age. The formation, which is
often developed as a very insignificant product of weathering, has
no fossils at all.
It is overlaid unconformably in the Brahmaputra valley by a
grey horizontal deposit of sandstone conglomerate which belongs
to what is described by the geologists of the Geological Institute of
India as Pleistocene.
It is worthy of remark that the foundation of the Brahmaputra
valley, except for the younger tertiary deposits which occur through-
out the area examined, is built up of older Jurassic deposits and low
down of parts of the Eocene eruptive formation, while the base of
the heights of the Trans-Himalaya and of the western Tibetan
plateau consists of Cenomanian limestones and also — in the Trans-
Himalaya — of a plainly recognizable system of dikes and intrusive
sheets of the above-mentioned eruptive formation. These circum-
stances show that the Brahmaputra valley, which separates the
Himalayas and the Trans-Himalaya, must be considered in its
present condition as a deeply excavated erosion valley, and that
faults do not play the leading part here which Oswald has assigned
to them in his article based on Dr. Sven Hedin's preliminary
communications.
CHAPTER XV
A CRITICAL SITUATION
However warmly one loves cold Tibet, yet after two years
on the storm-lashed heights of this country, one longs to
return to the perpetual summer of India. I had already
exceeded the space of time for which one can endure with-
out injury a continued sojourn in highly rarefied air, and
at Tokchen I revelled in the thought that only one more
high pass lay on the route which would lead me down to
the shade of Himalayan cedars and the palms and mango
trees of India.
So I thought in my innocence. I knew the road
through the Sutlej valley only from maps on a small scale
which I had with me, and from the succinct descriptions
published by Ryder and Rawling. Their expedition had
started from Gartok, and had therefore to cross the Ladak
range by an awkward pass before it reached the Shipki.
I, on the other hand, intended to follow the course of the
Sudej straight from the holy lake and the Langak-tso.
The Englishmen had made their march in midwinter
and yet had not encountered any serious difficulties, while
I had midsummer before me and therefore ought to per-
form the task more easily.
Yes, summer is a glorious season in Tibet. But in the
higher regions of the Sutlej's course winter is much more
preferable. The rainy season did not neglect its duties
this year, and we had been thoroughly soaked several
times already. The rivers might be swollen so that they
overflowed their banks, and we might get into great
difficulties in crossing the tributaries. I did not think of
i66
6. A Young Tibetan.
Sketch by the Author.
CHAP. XV A CRITICAL SITUATION 167
these things beforehand. But the day was to come
when I should envy those who could avail themselves
of the bridges of ice over the Sutlej in winter. My
great aim now was to be on the road as soon as pos-
sible. I felt that I should soon be at home. But the
way to India was much longer than I expected when I
measured the distances on my map with compasses in
Tokchen.
Even in Tokchen a formidable obstacle presented itself.
I had thought of travelling on the next day, and I had to
wait here nine days before setting out. The long wait had
not the slightest results. Yes, one ! Our animals had a
thorough rest to prepare them for the hardships to come.
And I was compelled to take a much-needed rest which
otherwise I should never have allowed myself. I was
deadly tired and quite exhausted after the wearing
marches in the Trans- Himalaya, and after the past winter
with its terrible cold. I lay all day long like an invalid,
had lost all energy, was indifferent to everything, and tired
of everything.
On the very first evening the bother began. My
friend of the year before, the Gova of Tokchen, came into
my tent with a friendly smile, handed me a kadakJi, a thin
white strip of stuff, as a sign of welcome and respect, and
gave me a lump of korum-'s,\i^2,x from Purang, wrapped up
in leaves. He was invited to take his seat on the usual
felt rug, and his first question was :
" How is it possible that you are again in Tibet,
Sahib ? You left the country a year ago. Whence do
you come now ? "
" I have come over the northern mountains in order to
see the innermost parts of Tibet which were closed to my
caravan last year. I told you then that I should come
back, and here I am."
" I cannot understand you, Sahib. Last year I was
duly informed of your approach. This time I have only
heard it said that you had turned up at Saka-dzong, and
that it had been proclaimed all along the tasam that you
were staying in the country without permission, and were
not authorized to travel anywhere but towards the north.
i68 TRANS-HhMALAYA
I have received no orders, however, and I really do not
know what to do with you."
" Oh, I can tell you that. You must get for me to-
morrow morning early the yaks I need, and see that I
travel safely on the road to Tirtapuri. You know that the
authorities in Lhasa are, as usual, anxious to get rid of me.
Well then, help me on. I promise that from Tirtapuri I
will follow the course of the Sutlej down to India."
" Tirtapuri ! yes, that is all very fine. But I have not
yet received any orders, either from Lhasa or Gartok. I
know only too well what happened last year. Then you
asked me for means of transport to the Tso-mavang. I
helped you to reach the lake and then you remained there
a whole month. Afterwards I had to bear the blame."
" I hope you were not punished ? "
" No, but I was warned not to meddle with Europeans
in future without orders. And I was reprimanded for not
having prevented you from sailing in your boat on the
holy lake."
" The boat did not do any harm to the holy lake ? "
" The gods may be angry. The lake is their property.
The pilgrims finish their pilgrimage round its shores. The
Tso-mavang is too good to be navigated by boats."
" This year you need not be alarmed. The boat is not
with me ; you may convince yourself of that. I will not
stop a day at Tso-mavang, but will travel straight to
Tirtapuri. No one has refused us yaks hitherto. The
Governor of Saka-dzong supplied the first ; the last are
from Takche. We must have fresh ones the day after
to-morrow at latest."
After long consideration the Gova answered :
" I will consult with my people and then give you my
answer."
And so he went. I knew him for an honest man.
Now he stood between two fires. He would gladly have
obliged me, but he could not be unfaithful to his duty.
Experience had made him wary. He had a grudge
against me because I had been before in Tokchen and
thereby got him into trouble. And it is always more
difficult to wriggle out the second time. Dorche Tsuen
A CRITICAL SITUATION 169
had given notice all along the tasam, the great high road
to Ladak, that I must not travel in any direction but to the
north, the way I had come. I was now apparently stuck
fast, and my fortune was about to take a very peculiar
turn.
After an hour our three yak-drivers from Takche came
to the tent door. The oldest, in great excitement, and his
voice interrupted by sobs, said :
" Sir, the Gova of Tokchen and five other men have
threatened us with a hundred stripes each, because we have
brought you here without permission,"
"Impossible! Do not be alarmed; whoever promises
you a beating will have to deal with me."
" Yes, sir, there is one way of saving us from it, that is,
if you will go back with us over the Surnge-la to Takche."
" No, listen to me. I have at last reached here, and I
must hurry off to India as quickly as possible."
" Yes, but the Gova says that he will let us off the
beating if we take you home with us."
" What have I to do at Takche ? I cannot stay there
for ever."
" You are to go on from there to Kyangyang and the
Pedang-tsangpo. We are told that you must return by the
very same way you came."
And thereupon the yak-drivers with their lachrymose
faces threw themselves down before me, begging me in the
most beseeching terms to accompany them back to their
tents.
Now I perceived that it was only by pure good luck
that I succeeded in passing through the forbidden land. If
the nomad chiefs on the Pedang-tsangpo, at Selipuk, in the
Kyangyang valley, and at Takche had known what the
Gova of Tokchen knew, they would not have given us a
yak on hire nor sold us a handful of tsamba unless we had
consented to turn back and travel eastwards. How often
had we met with the same experience as now ! Each
magistrate wished to relieve himself of all responsibility,
and therefore tried to persuade me to return to the place I
had come from. One would have thought that the Gova
of Tokchen would have been satisfied if he saw me
I70
TRANS-HIMALAYA
disappear in the direction of India. But he thought only
of his own safety. No one should reprimand him for
helping me to pass through his territory. As I had now
come from the north, there was nothing for it but to drive
me back to the north. The situation was critical. I must
watch the course of events.
Darkness had come when another guest visited us, this
time a welcome one — rain. It fell closely and heavily and
pelted monotonously over all the country. The valley was
turned into a swamp, and the mud squelched under the
feet. Two tired horses, which had had a feed of barley by
the tents, stood half asleep under their soaked rugs, with
dripping manes and trickling tails. We could not help
wondering whether this deluge would ever thoroughly dry
up again. My tent was strengthened by extra covers and
a ditch was digged round it, or I should have been in
danger of being drowned as I lay in my bed on the ground.
All night long the rain fell in torrents, but when the
morning sun poured its gold down on the valley of the
Samo-tsangpo out of a clear blue sky, all the mountains of
the country glistened with blinding white new-fallen snow,
as if winter had spread its pall over the bier of the too-soon-
departed summer.
The Gova presented himself at my tent with his suite.
He looked depressed and it was some time before he could
find words. At last he began :
" I have consulted with my people. We are all agreed
that I cannot and dare not have anything to do with you.
I was warned the last time, and if I help you again I shall
be punished. It is best for us all that you should return to
Takche."
" You can quite understand," I returned, " that I have no
thought of marching farther northwards when I must hasten
into India as quickly as possible. But I do not wish to
involve you in any unpleasantness, so, if you will send an
express to Lhasa to ask for instructions, I am ready to
wait until the answer arrives."
" You cannot wait so long, Sahib. I will hold counsel
witli my people once more."
Then the party trooped off, but only to be succeeded by
A CRITICAL SITUATION 171
a new figure, a yango or inspector of transport animals and
caravan traffic on the section of the tasam lying between
the stations Parka and Shamsang. In this capacity he is
generally on the road, and it was only by chance that he
was in Tokchen. He came most humbly, almost crawling,
into the tent, and the bale of red woollen material from
Lhasa, which he begged me to accept as an offering
of friendship, showed that he had a particular favour
to ask.
" You say that you wish to travel to Tirtapuri, Sahib.
Why did you not go through Yumba-matsen when you
were at Selipuk .'* If you will promise to go straight to
Parka, I will provide you with baggage animals, but you
certainly may not travel by the holy lake to Tirtapuri. Oh,
Sahib, for the sake of the Lama Kunchuk, for the gods'
sake, turn back to Takche ! The men and the yaks from
there will be detained here for you. They had no right to
bring you here, and you have no passport from Lhasa.
The instructions the government has issued are much
stricter than before. Oh, Sahib, go back to the north ! "
I smiled, patted the yango on the shoulder, and answered
slowly, accentuating every word :
" My way runs along the Tso-mavang to Tirtapuri.
There is no other way for me."
He rose angrily, received his bale of material back
again, and tramped off to the black tents.
A year, almost to the day, had passed away since I had
for the first time pitched my tent in Tokchen. When I
then asked permission to explore the forbidden roads over
the mountains to the north, I received a peremptory no in
reply. Now I was begged and implored in the most
moving terms to go thither, and prayers and threats were
employed to induce me. Yaks and guides were kept ready.
I might have laid down the condition : " Procure me ten
good horses and provisions for two months ; let me choose
my own route over the mountains, and I will promise you
to go to Takche." This would certainly have been agreed
to, only to see me disappear in the direction I had come.
A curious fate, a singular country ! When I try to steal
into Tibet I find the frontier closed. And when I have
172
TRANS-HIMALAYA
succeeded and wish to slip out again the frontier is also
closed with locks and bars. Never had such a good
opportunity presented itself, and I had plenty of money.
1 might have gained two more Trans- Himalayan passes
and established my headquarters beside some lake or other.
Why did I not do it ? Yes, it was stupid of me. But I
had left my relations far too long already without news of
me, and I knew that their anxiety would increase with
every day that passed. And last but not least — I was tired
of Tibet ! I had now had enough of it ; another autumn
and a winter among the everlasting heights would have
been too much for me.
One day followed another without anything remarkable
happening. One day the yongsun, or head of the privileged
commercial mission from Tibet to Ladak, came to Tokchen.
He had brought red Tibetan woollen materials for sale, and
I made a large purchase, for all my twelve men wanted new
suits. The transaction had also the good result that the
men were fully employed for some days. Abdul Kerim's
tent was turned into a tailor's shop and clothes were cut out,
sewed and fitted on all day long.
Our friend Sonam Ngurbu made another interruption
in the monotony in which we lived. He had been delayed
on the way through the nomads in the Paryang valley
refusing to supply him with provisions. Unfortunately
they had bravely resisted the strange chief and his unfair
demands, and therefore Sonam Ngurbu was in exceedingly
bad temper when he reached Tokchen. His love for the
Swedish army revolver had not cooled down, and he tried
to wheedle me into an exchange of the revolver for an old
rotten wooden saddle. As this failed, he said that the
Garpun would soon come down upon me and drive me up
to the Chang-tang.
The Gova of Tokchen remained friendly and sent
secret messengers to my tent at dusk to ask me to keep
quiet and wait. Two officials were hostile to me, but they
would soon leave, and then we should have our hands free.
Indeed! those officials seemed not to go away. On the
contrary, more were fetched by messengers, the Govas of
Pangri and Hor, through whose districts I had passed last.
XV A CRITICAL SITUATION 173
It was like a little political conorress in which no one was
willing to take any responsibility. The Tibetans held
councils all day long, and we saw them going from tent to
tent or sitting in small warmly-disputing groups out in the
sunshine. If I would only return to Takche they would
willingly defray all the expenses. But I would not.
One day came our friend the ex-Gova of Kyangyang,
and he was soundly rated by his colleague of Hor for
letting us travel to Hor without permission. Now Kyang-
yang would abuse Pedang, and so on along the whole line.
Saka-dzong, where we had received the first yaks, would
be the last in the sequence. A terrible tumult might be
anticipated in the labyrinths of the Trans-Himalaya, and it
was a real stroke of luck that it had not broken out before,
or it would have been all up with the last discoveries.
Some fine summer days followed, and I delighted in
the warmth of the sun on the thin tent. The Samo-tsangpo,
which had lately been much swollen, fell again. On July
22 autumn returned and rain washed the valley. The
brook increased into a dirty grey, rumbling volume of
water measuring 173 cubic feet per second.
On July 23 I hoped that the days of imprisonment
had come to an end. The chiefs, accompanied by their
servants, came to visit me, and, as far as room permitted,
they were all accommodated in Abdul Kerim's tent. The
Gova of Pangri took the lead and spoke in the name of the
others. He capitulated all the reasons which made a
retreat northwards necessary. As he showed no signs of
coming to an end, I interrupted him and reminded the
assembly that the Gova of Pangri had no authority in
Tokchen. Another speaker interfered and told me that
all the chiefs would be shortened by a head if I did not
return to Takche. In order to bribe me, every one of
them laid a parcel of woollen material before me.
I perceived that I should never prevail with them, so
to put an end to the discussion I asked :
" Then you will give me no yaks for Tirtapuri } "
" No ! " they replied with one voice.
I got up quickly and vi^ent across to my tent, while the
Tibetans looked silently and doubtfully at one another.
174 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Then the Gova of Pangri came and begged for another
word with me,
"Sahib," he began, "as I shall at any rate be be-
headed because I have let you through my district, I may
as well give you yaks for a journey to Parka."
" Good ! Parka is at least a little nearer to Tirtapuri.
Have the yaks ready to-morrow."
" But I have no yaks myself. You must hire them in
Tokchen."
The Gova of Tokchen was asked, but he had no mind
to agree to the proposal. So we had to give up this plan
also.
I relate all these consultations to show how things go
in Tibet. They are extremely characteristic, and most
travellers have had some such experiences. The authorities
are stubborn, but always polite and friendly.
It was evident that I must help myself. The caravan
consisted of ten horses and mules. Nine should be laden
and I would ride the white horse I had bought from
Kamba Tsenam in the far east. We could not expect the
honest Tibetans to get themselves into difficulties on our
account.
" We start to-morrow morning," was the order I gave
my men.
So our last evening in Tokchen came on. Rain poured
down from heaven, and thunder rolled so heavily in the
mountains that the earth trembled, and the turbid stream
rose more rapidly than before.
Early in the morning of July 24 the tents were taken
down, and the loading had already commenced when a
messenger announced that I should have yaks if I would
wait a little. Of course I was so obliging as to wait till
the Gova of Tokchen came with a new proposal.
" We have decided that all the chiefs now assembled
in Tokchen shall escort you to Parka in order to explain
there the state of affairs and to see that all goes well. We
need, however, a day to get ready. To-morrow you shall
have the yaks."
" I have waited long enough. I have no more faith
in you."
A CRITICAL SITUATION 175
" I will give you an undertaking in writing that every-
thing shall be ready to-morrow."
•' Very well, then, I will wait until the document is
ready."
Lobsang went with the Gova to his tent, but soon
came back with the information that the Gova had repented
of the matter.
Thereupon the signal for starting was given. The
horses and mules were quickly laden, and we moved off
down the valley in the sight of all the Tibetans of Tokchen.
The animals had rested and were in fairly good condition.
Their loads were heavier than usual as there were no yaks
to help in transport. Our party marched on over meadows
and screes on the left bank of the Samo-tsangpo, passing
the bend of the river where we had pitched camp 2 1 1 the
year before. Now the valley expanded and we saw the
great holy lake again. Yonder appeared also the summit
of Kailas, the holy Kang-rinpoche. Lobsang and Kutus
threw themselves full length on the ground and touched it
with their foreheads to salute the gods of the mountain.
The camp was pitched just below the mouth of the
valley on the right bank. The day was bright and clear,
the sunshine glittered on the blue mirror of the Manasaro-
war, and, unconscious of its own beauty, spread around me
one of the grandest and most famous landscapes on earth.
I felt that I was free and on my way home. Yet why did
no dark troop of horsemen appear in the mouth of the
valley ? Why did they not come after us, all those chiefs
of Tokchen, Pangri, Hor, and Purang, who had recently
told us we must not on any account pass along the shore
of the holy lake ? We were only thirteen men and badly
armed. The Tibetans despise the men of Ladak. I was
the only European, but I was in Tibetan costume. They
might have compelled us to do anything. They might
have driven away our horses under cover of night, and
thus have fettered us. And if nothing else would do, they
might have called out the nomads of the country and armed
them with guns and sabres. But not a hand moved when we
tore off the bonds of our imprisonment before their eyes.
Was it my lucky star or a reflexion from the holiness
176 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xv
of the Tashi Lama which accompanied me ? Perhaps
the Tibetans simply looked upon me as an enfant terrible
whom it was vain to watch. I had always been turned
out everywhere, and yet I had crossed the country in all
directions, and had turned up in places where I was least
expected. I was like the wind, no one knew whence I
came or whither I went.
However it might be, no horsemen showed themselves
at the mouth of the Samo valley. We were left alone and
slept peacefully on the sacred shore.
CHAPTER XVI
TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW "
When in the previous year I spent a memorable summer
month at Tso-mavang, the Manasarowar of the Hindus,
and Hved on its waters, I felt like a master in my own
country and a seafarer over my own water. Now we were
only a flight of birds of passage which longed to leave the
holy districts.
We marched over the steppe by the shore where grass
grew thick and freely after the abundant downpours of
rain. There were grazing 4000 sheep, with loads of salt
on their backs. Their drivers had set up their tents close
together, and they said that they came from Chang-tang
and were on their way to the fair at Gyanima.
On the left lay the surface of the holy lake with its
changing shades, while to the right we had the large
lagoon into which flow the brooks from the valleys Pachen
and Pachung. The water which streams from the lagoon
into the lake had the year before formed a small brook,
but now, after the heavy rains, we found ourselves suddenly
on the bank of a considerable river almost a hundred yards
wide. It looked, however, worse than it really was. The
current was extremely slow, and the depth was only three-
quarters of an inch. The whole discharge amounted only
to about 185 cubic feet a second. The fording of the river
was troublesome only on account of the mud, in which the
toiling animals sank up to the knee.
We encamped on the compact sand and gravel of the
beach. To the north we could see Pundi-gompa on its
cliff on the flank of the Pundi mountain, and a small white
,77 N
i;8 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
spot which had been visible in front of us all the day proved
to be the monastery Langbo-nan. Two of my men thought
they could see Tugu-gompa also ; they had eagle's eyes ;
to me this monastery was invisible even through the field-
glass. Kang-rinpoche and Gurla Mandatta were veiled in
clouds, and only late in the day did the mountain of the
gods look out distinctly from between white clouds. Camp
453 was pitched on the bank of the Gyuma-chu, which
carried 140 cubic feet of water.
All night the country lay under a dark awning of clouds,
and the temperature did not fall below 45°, quite a summer
night once more. While the caravan was following the
shore to the Chiu-gompa, I, with Lobsang and Kutus,
visited the young prior Tsering in Langbo-nan. Every-
thing was the same in his roomy cell ; he sat on the same
divan behind the same red lacquered table, and the sacred
books lay, as before, on their dusty shelves. His portrait is
in Vol. H., Illust. 262, facing p. 162. The only difference
was that Lama Tsering was a year older ; he was now
thirteen. The older monks of the monastery kept him
company. There he had sat all the year day after day, had
heard the paper in the window frames rustle and crackle,
and had listened to the winter storms as they swept
howling over the heights. He drank his morning tea out
of a small child's cup and counted the beads of his rosary.
In the presence of the monks he must put on the dignity
of a prior. But the rogue's eyes flashed, and he laughed
childishly when I related some of my adventures.
"Why are you dressed this year like a Tibetan ?" he
asked. " Last year you wore a European suit."
" I should never have got through to Bongba and Saka-
dzong in European costume," I replied.
" True, true ! Are you coming here again ? "
"Yes, I hope to see you again. Lama Tsering."
We had no time to sit long. A bag of flour and a
lump of sugar were handed me as a present, and were
requited with a handful of silver rupees. In the court,
where a cloister servant held my horse, we said good-bye
to the monks, and as I rode away the young prior, sitting
at the window, nodded farewell with a friendly smile.
TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW" 179
The monastery Chergip-gompa lies lonely and forlorn
in its valley mouth. We do not stop there, but hurry past
the well-known boulders, caves, and ckhortejt of its mountain
spur, and make ourselves comfortable below Chiu-gompa
on the same spot as last time. The position of the shore
line seems unchanged, the heavy rains not having raised
the level of the lake appreciably. But the rainy season
has only just begun this year, and no doubt long continuous
rains would cause Tso-mavang to rise.
In Chiu-gompa also we found old friends. Chief among
them was the young monk Tundup Lama, who, with a
lump of butter as a gift of welcome and with protruded
tongue, found his way into my tent. He had become
thinner and bent, dragged his feet as he walked, and had
a bad cough. But he was still the same kindly, cheerful
cloister brother as at our last meeting, and I was grieved
that he should pass a purposeless life between the dark
mouldy walls of his cell, while I enjoyed unbounded
freedom among the fresh glorious mountains. All the
inmates of the monastery visited us, monks, herdsmen,
fuel -gatherers, and water-carriers, nay, even Tundup
Lama's old mother, and every one received a small present
for old friendship's sake.
A party of Hindu pilgrims were camping on the shore
under the open sky. One of them was a very comical
freak, about fifty years old, copper -brown, with black
whiskers, red turban, a tattered mantle, which a merchant
of Ladak had given him, and a pilgrim staff in his hand
shod with an iron ferule. He wanted to return to India
through Taklakot, and begged for a rupee that he might
eat his fill for once.
Chiu-gompa was a critical point, as I knew very well
from the year before. But the night passed quietly and
without disturbance, and no dark horsemen appeared in
the morning. We left the monastery people in their
fearful isolation, and heard the murmur of the holy waves
die away behind us as we marched down the Ganga bed
between the two lakes. The path to the next camping-
ground ran over flat hills and swampy meadows on the
north shore of the Langak-tso. Here the inhabitants of
iSo TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the district Parka are wont to feed their flocks in winter.
Now we saw only a solitary herdsman and some yaks.
On the way we came upon a tramp hideous to behold,
dirty, hungry, and clothed in nothing but rags. He
defended himself stoutly with a thick stick when the dogs
attacked him.
" Give me a copper, sir," he begged in a whining tone.
" Do you know any by-way to Tirtapuri south of the
tasam ? " I asked.
" Yes, I know one."
" If you will show us the way you shall be paid a rupee
a day besides free rations."
"Gladly! But if suspicious horsemen appear I must
make myself scarce, or I shall be beaten to death."
The new pilot of the caravan, which the wilderness had
given us, was called by my men simply the " Beggar," and
this name he retained as long as he was with us.
At sunset a violent south-west wind arose and the
waves beat against the shore. The clouds round the crown
of Kang-rinpoche parted, and a faint purple gleam lighted
up the royal mountain. I had fixed it on my photographic
plates the year before and drawn it from all sides. Now
I saw it for the last time. I asked no more from it, for
I had looked enough at it and now saw it only as in a dream.
From a small hill near the camp we could perceive the
tents and huts of Parka. Of course our white tents and
our camp-fires must be as plainly visible from there. Why,
then, did no one come to force us to take the great high road
to Ladak again ? I do not know, but no one came, and
this night also passed quietly.
Close to the west side of the camp the river flows
through the plain from the valley which runs due east of
Kang-rinpoche, where the monastery Tsumtul-pu-gompa
lies at the mouth. This river, too, had received its share
of rain ; it carried 530 cubic feet of water and was 140
yards broad. Its bottom was extraordinarily dangerous, so
that the men had to carry the loads over. My horse nearly
stuck fast in the viscous mud and almost threw me into the
water.
The old dried-up Sutlej bed lies to the left as we march
I
m
X
\
y
\^A
n.-r'^ ,
sr
A Lama in Chiu-gompa.
Sketch by the Author.
TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW" i8i
over the level ground, where the horses and mules become
restive at the sight and smell of the juicy pasturage, and
walk with their noses to the ground all the way. Then we
cross the Sutlej bed, in which the rain-water has collected
into large pools. At the place where we crossed the river
bed next day, July 29, its bank terraces were as perfect as
though they had been exposed to erosion at the present
time. Here also were the ponds we had seen in the year
1907; they were no larger, for they are constantly fed by
springs and are independent of rain.
We leave behind us on the left the narrow valley in
which the Sutlej, after apparently losing itself in Tso-
mavang and the Langak-tso, is born again of spring rivulets,
gradually to grow into a great river along which we shall
travel through the Himalayas. For a short distance there-
fore we lose sight of the river, which is here an insignificant
brook, and pitch camp 457 on the hills to the north of it.
Here grow large quantities of wild leeks, and Gulam gathers
a good supply to season the inevitable mutton cutlets which
daily grace my table.
It was all we could do to set up the tents before the
rain came. The clouds lay actually on the ground, and
there was not a glimpse to be seen of the mountains.
Twenty ditches had to be digged to guard against flooding.
The rain poured down in bucketsful and produced a com-
bination of singular notes. Sometimes it sounded like
military music, sometimes like a vibrating roll on tightly
stretched drum parchment. But amidst it all we seemed
to hear the bleating of fat sheep and the grunting of sleek
yaks. Lambs and calves rained down from heaven, milk
and butter for the poor nomads.
I listen and to my ears comes the sound of boiling pots
filled with fat meat and of singing kettles in which the tea
mixed with butter is prepared. Prosperity and happy days
descend with the heavy drops. I bear the ornaments of
the women tinkle and the noise and laughter of little naked
well-fed children who are playing round the black tents.
The nomad lays his gun under the border of the tent
cloth ; he is not, as in lean years, dependent on the chase,
but can afford to kill a sheep now and then.
i82 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
The rain continues heavily and monotonously. Beyond
the mist I seem to see it fall like the whitest cotton-wool
on the high alpine firn-basins, the cradle of the rivers.
Outside there is a swelling roar ; it is the Sutlej, which
rolls its volumes of water beyond Tirtapuri. The river
is as yet a child playing in the valley, but it soon grows
larger and stronger, and every drop of rain falling in the
mountains adds to the immense force with which the river
saws its valley through the Himalayas. The rain still falls
and pelts and patters on the grass. I seem to hear the
streamers on the passes flutter and the prayer-mills hum ;
a thousand voices seem to cry from heaven over the blessed
land, " Om mani padme hum."
The rain pours down all night and we march on in the
morning in heavy rain. The air is raw, damp, and chilly,
and I wrap my Tibetan skin coat about me and draw the
hood over my head. The men tie round them empty
sacks. Dripping and uncomfortable we splash along to
the west-north-west over a small rise, and then direct our
steps down to the right bank of the Sutlej, where the small
monastery Dolchu-gompa is built on a hill, while steep
mountain walls flank the left bank.
There is not much to be said about Dolchu-gompa. In
its present form it was erected about the time when Soravar
Sing conquered Tibet. A Kanpo Lama, four Getsul or
novices, a superintendent, and a steward were now the
ecclesiastical inmates of the monastery. The golden Sera
near Lhasa is said to be the mother cloister of Dolchu, and
to give the monks 600 tenga yearly for their maintenance.
With this allowance they have to manage as well as they
can, and in return they must undertake the care of souls in
their district. The Ihakang or hall of the gods is poor. In
the middle oi the altar table stands a small chhorten with
the ashes of the lama Lobsang Dentsing who founded the
Dolchu monastery two hundred years ago. So at least
declared the lama who showed us the sanctuary.
Fourteen tents were pitched at the foot of the cloister
hill. Their inmates were not nomads but wool-dealers
from Nepal and Ladak. They told me that it paid them
to buy up wool in this country and that salt was the only
TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW" 183
other article of trade on which a profit could be made.
Five sheep's loads of salt were equivalent to four sheep's
loads of barley, and the value of every sixth load of salt was
the duty demanded by the Government.
Dolchu is particularly interesting because here the
springs well up in the Sutlej bed which are now the
apparent sources of the river, if we neglect the real genetic
and historical source lying to the south-east of the Tso-
mavang. The name Langchen-kabab, or source of the
Sutlej, is used of both places. The hill on which Dolchu-
gompa stands is supposed to have the form of a langchen
or elephant.
In the evening a strolling lama, a mendicant monk from
Kham in the extreme east of Tibet, came into our camp.
He was equipped with a spear, a drum, and a flute made
out of a human shank bone. I promised him a rupee if he
would stand still for half an hour, but I had not sketched
much of his portrait when the wanderer decamped hastily.
" You must keep to your bargain," growled Lobsang
after him.
" I will have none of the bargain or rupee. The fellow
bewitches me with his eyes."
Another promise was not fulfilled, but for sufficient
reasons. A Ladaki had promised to let me have nine asses
on hire for the journey to Tirtapuri. But when he learned
that the tributaries to be crossed on the way were so
swollen that no ass would be stupid enough to venture
through them and endanger his life, he sent me word that
he could not let me have them.
We had therefore to look after ourselves. We waded
just below the monastery through the crystal-clear brook
fed by the springs. It was the young Sutlej, which was to
keep us company from here all the way to Simla. If we
had always camped on the river bank, every new camp
would have stood at a slightly less elevation above the sea
than the preceding. At Dolchu we were already a little
lower than the Langak-tso ; the lake has a height of 15,056
feet, while the monastery stands at a height of 14,820 feet.
As we proceeded farther it turned out that no rule held
good with regard to the relative heights.
i84 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
The days of childhood soon pass away. It was not
long before the Sutlej had left its infancy behind. In an
expansion of the valley we hear the roar of great volumes
of water rolling down. The affluent Chukta falls through
a gap in the erosion terrace and divides into five delta
arms with thick greyish-brown foaming water above the
gravelly ground. The fifth arm of this river, which rises
in the Trans- Himalaya, was 58 yards broad and discharged
530 cubic feet per second. It was, indeed, about fifty
times as large as the source-stream of the Sutlej, but the
latter flows all the year round, whereas the Chukta swells
up after rain but fails altogether in the cold of winter.
After we have passed over without a wetting we follow
the right bank of the united river, and then march along
the river bed itself at the foot of an erosion terrace 25 to
30 feet high. On both sides old terraces rise about 130
feet above the valley floor, evidence of a time when larger
volumes of water than now poured down the valley and
when the lakes had a constant outflow.
After a time we come to another break in the right
terrace, and another tributary, the Goyak, empties itself
into the Sutlej. The Goyak discharged probably 100
cubic feet of yellowish-brown water thick as pea-soup.
We are always crossing feeders, each contributing its mite,
and the river gradually increases.
The Sutlej valley has here a westerly direction ; it may
be about i^ miles broad, but if only the level valley floor
be estimated, the breadth is one to two hundred yards.
Some stretches are clothed with excellent grass, and we
wonder that no nomads make use of it. There is no life
except some hares scutding through the grass. The camp
this day, 459, is pitched on the bank of the Sutlej at a
height of 14,574 feet. Here the outflow of a spring
debouches, and its bluish-green water is at once swallowed
up in the yellowish-brown tumbling flood of the river. In
the middle of the day the spring water had a temperature
of 52.8', while the river was warmed up to 61.3°.
We had become tired of the peaceful repose of the
highlands, and now we were to hear noise enough. It was
not only the loud heavy roar of the river, no — rain, too.
XVI TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW" 185
pelted down on the slopes, and thunder rolled over the
valley. When we broke up camp on August i the rain
still poured down from heaven. Now the rainy season
was in full swing, and we, moreover, had travelled from the
central parts of Tibet to the peripheral Himalayan regions
which catch the greater part of the precipitation of the
south-west monsoon.
About a hundred yards below the camp the Sutlej
enters a corridor-like trench between precipitous cliffs,
which it is impossible to pass through. The path therefore
mounts to the ridge on the right side of the valley. We
have not proceeded far up there when we are stopped by
another valley excavated deep as a grave below our feet.
As far as we can see through the rain it comes from the
north-east. Grass lends a greenish tinge to the valley
bottom, and in the middle shines a winding river like a
bright yellow riband. We halt at the edge from which
the path winds in steep zigzags to the bottom of this side
river ; the difference of height is only 165 feet. The river
looks small in the distance. But we soon hear its rushing
roar, and when we reach the bank we are quite dazed when
we look at the heavy reddish-brown stream of water. The
river is called Tokbo-shar. A short distance below the
ford the valley narrows and the Tokbo-shar forces its way
through a rocky portal to join the Sutlej.
We deliberated a little on the feat before us. The
rain fell in bucketsful, and it was almost a consolation that
we were already wet, for it would be a miracle if we got
across this river, which seemed red with blood, without a
good bath. All the loads carried by the horses and mules
were piled up as high as possible and roped very securely.
Some of the men searched for a convenient ford. Where
the water rises in high boiling domes, smooth treacherous
stones may be expected on which the animals may slip and
fall, while at places where the water forms small regular
waves, a level bottom is probable. The fording- place
finally chosen looked anything but inviting, but there was
none better and we must get over.
The river consisted of three narrow arms with breadths
of 23.7 and 36 feet; in the middle one the depth was 40
i86 TRANS-HIMALAYA
inches. This is not much, but it is more than enough when
the water forms rapids and threatens to sweep down man
and beast. The aggregate volume was 953 cubic feet, so
that the Sutlej received a considerable addition to its water.
First the ford had to be tested. Rasak and the Beggar
undressed, took hold of each other, and rolled and staggered
like drunken men in the water. They really needed a bath.
But it was rash of the Beggar to expose his back, for it was
striped like a zebra by the strokes of a whipping which had
been administered to him somewhere or other. He there-
fore stood confessed a notorious rogue. But what did that
matter to us ? Now he belonged to our travelling company
and he played his part excellently. Both crossed all three
arms without falling and came back to act as pilots.
Now all my men undressed. The baggage animals
were led over one by one ; two men walked on either side
of a wading animal to lay hold at once if he fell. I was in
great anxiety about my maps, notes, and sketches. But
all went well, and I rode last through the river preceded by
a pilot.
When the men had dried and clothed themselves again,
we rode on along the terrace platform. We had not gone
far when the same scene was repeated. A new tributary
boiled and foamed below our feet, the Tokbo-nub, which
had carved out a channel just as sharply marked as its
neighbour's, and also flowed to the Sutlej through a rocky
portal. We had no choice.
Again the ropes were tightened round the loads, the
men undressed, horses and mules plunged into the water,
stumbled over the boulders and planted their feet firmly
so that they should not be washed away. We did not hear
the pelting rain as the Tokbo-nub rolled 850 cubic feet of
water past the waders.
The path along the gravelly terrace is marked by cairns
and ;;iaut walls, indicating the proximity of a temple. The
Trans- Himalaya, where the two tributaries collect rain-
water in the southern valleys, is not visible in this weather,
and to the left we only dimly perceive the deep corridor of
the Sutlej, cut through solid rock and now completely filled
with floods of water.
XVI TO THE CONVENT OF "ST. SOW" 187
The wet, tiring day's journey nears an end. A mani
wall, a hundred yards long and unusually well kept, points
to the monastery Tirtapuri, which stands on a terraced
slope and is surrounded by a guard oi chhortens.
I rode up to the sanctuary. The prior, a Kanpo Lama,
did not deign to show himself, but sixteen out of the twenty-
one monks of the cloister were present and had no objection
to take me round. They pronounced the name of the place
Tretapuri, but the word Tirtapuri is of Indian origin and
signifies "pilgrimage resort." Sakya-toba, softly smiling
and plunged in thought, is enthroned on the altar in the
Ikakang, which otherwise contains nothing out of the
common. But yes, I was shown some flat dark stones cut
round, which might be diabase or porphyry. They bore
distinct and rather deep impressions of the hands and feet
of holy men long fallen asleep in Buddha. In one also was
the imprint of a horse's hoof Pia fraus ! The great
thing is that the crowd believes in them and continues to
humbly make offerings to the monastery.
In the anteroom of the Ihakang two nekora, or pilgrims
from Lhasa, had taken up their quarters, and a Hindu was
in their company. The object of his journey was Mana-
sarowar and Kailas. He had holy water from the Ganga
lake in a brass can, and this miraculous fluid he wished
to exchange for my horse. But I had no inclination for this
stroke of business ; there might be only ordinary water from
a village pond in the can, and I wanted my horse myself
Through an alley of chhortens the path runs down to
another shrine, the Dorche Pagmo Ihakang, where the
saint of this name sits in the company of Buddha and other
potentates of the Lamaist theocracy. Dorche Pagmo is an
abbess, who, like the Dalai Lama and the Tashi Lama,,
never dies but only renews her earthly shell. She lives in
the handsome nunnery on the peninsula in the Yambok-
tso. The curious name signifies the " holy sow " or the
" diamond sow," and the proof of her reincarnation is a
birth-mark on the nape of the neck resembling a pig's
snout. Her hall at Tirtapuri is damp, dark, and dismal, and
only after one has become accustomed to the gloom can one
distinguish the stereotyped smiles of the gods.
i88 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xvi
Outside the rain poured down and trickled over the
rocks. The caravan had pitched camp 460 beside a shelf
of limestone sinter where warm springs bubbled up. The
rain shut us in like a glass house. We waited therefore a
while in the doorway of the dark pigsty of "St. Sow."
Behind us yawned a mystical " Gotterdammerung," outside
freedom sang in the roar of tumbling cascades. How
could the monks hesitate in their choice between the two ?
Well, in the cloister they obtained tsa^nba, tea, and bread
without working. Their days slipped by peacefully and
without anxiety in the service of the eternal gods. To
hold services, clean lamps, perform incantation dances in
costumes and masks during the great festivals of the temple,
and have the care of souls among the nomads of the
neighbourhood, all this was far more comfortable than to
wander about with caravans, tend sheep and yaks, or break
up salt in Chang-tang.
The rain did not cease. But now we had enough of the
holy sow and her monks, so we wrapped ourselves in our
mantles and hurried down to our tents.
CHAPTER XVII
MANASAROWAR IN ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES
There is no finer ring on earth than that which bears the
names of Manasarowar, Kailas, and Gurla Mandatta ; it is a
turquoise set between two diamonds. The grand impres-
sive silence which reigns around the inaccessible mountains,
and the inexhaustible wealth of crystal-clear water which
makes the lake the mother of the holy rivers, the toilsome
rocky paths that lead thence over the heights of the
Himalayas, everything has aided in rendering from ancient
times this wonderful country one of the most holy pilgrim-
age resorts or tirta of the Hindus. Whoever is of a pure and
enlightened mind and bathes in the waves of Manasarowar
attains thereby to a knowledge of the truth concealed from
other mortals. Still at the present day the stranger stands
on the lake shore, meditating deeply as he watches the
troops of pilgrims wading into water sacred to the gods,
and seeking truth there and a solution of the problem
of life.
Manasa Sarowara means " Manasa, the most beautiful
of lakes." Manasa means "created by the soul," for the
lake was created by the soul of Buddha,
In the Skanda Purana there is a tale of Manasarowar,
which is called Manasa- Khanda. The holy lake and
its creation are there described in the form of a dialogue.
Prince Janamejaya asks Suta, a pupil of Viasa, how the
world was created. Suta relates that Dattatreya Rishi,
one of the seven human incarnations of Vishnu, after he
had visited the Himalayas betook himself to Benares, and
loudly praised to the Raja Danvantari the beauty of the
189
I90
TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Himalayas. He extolled that part of the mountains where
Siva dwells, and where the Ganges like a lotus blossom on
its stalk emerges from the foot of Vishnu.
I saw Manasarowar where Siva dwells in the form of a Rajah-
ansa or a royal swan. This lake was formed by Brahma's soul and
therefore received the name of Manasa-sarowara. There dwell
also Mahadeva and the gods, thence flows the Sarju (the Karnali,
called by the Tibetans Map-chu, or the Peacock river), besides other
female streams and the Satadru (Sutlej) and other male streams.
Whoever touches his body with earth from Manasarowar and bathes
in its waters will attain to the paradise of Brahma, and whoever
drinks the water will ascend to the heaven of Siva and be washed
pure from the sins of a hundred incarnations, and even the animals
which bear the name Manasarowar will enter into Brahma's para-
dise. The water of the lake is like pearls. There are no mountains
that can compare with the Himalayas, for in them are Kailas and
Manasarowar. As the dew is dried up by the morning sun, so are
the sins of men blotted out at the sight of the Himalayas.
On the creation of Manasarowar it is said :
The sons of Brahma betook themselves to the countries lying
north of the Himalayas and fasted on Kailas. They beheld Siva
and Parvati, and there they remained twelve years, praying and
fasting. At this time little rain fell, water was scarce, and in their
necessity they went to Brahma and worshipped him. Then Brahma
asked what they wanted. They answered : " We are engaged in
meditation on Kailas and have to go down thence to Mandakini to
bathe ; make us a place where we can bathe." Then Brahma created
Manasarowar by an effort of his will. They went home rejoicing at
the success of their journey, and again gave themselves up on Kailas
to prayer and fasting, worshipping the golden symbol of fecundation
which rose in the middle of the lake above the surface.
When the Prince asks "Which road leads to the holy
lake ? " Dattatreya enumerates the chief places on the way
and speaks of the duties of a pilgrim, of which the following
must be performed at the lake shore :
He should bathe there and pour a libation of water to the shades
of his forefathers and worship Mahadeva (Siva) in the form of a
royal swan. He should there make \\\q parikrarna, or the circuit of
the holy Manasa lake, gaze at Kailas, and bathe in all the neigh-
bouring rivers.
Kailas is the Olympus of the old Hindu world, the
XVII MANASAROWAR 191
scene of action of the heroic figures of mystic poetry. At
its foot dreams the holy lake, now quiet and smooth as a
mirror, showing images of the sun and stars, now beating a
melody against the shore in time with the rapid dance of
the monsoon clouds on their course through the heavens
from the sultry plains of India to the heart of the cool and
lofty Tibet.
The clouds come trooping over the Himalayas from the
south-west. The stranger who rows in his boat over the
lake or wanders round the shore from one monastery to
another, knows the ways of the clouds and what they mean.
They are the heralds of the south-west monsoon, which
does not reach Tibet till late summer. They collect their
moisture from the sea, caress the coasts between Ceylon
and the mouth of the Indus, bring new life to the palms
and jungles, draw up the crops from the earth, and bless
men with cool weather. They rush up the flanks of the
Himalayas and dissolve in abundant rains. Only a small
part of the rain-clouds crosses the barrier and bedews the
slopes of the Trans- Himalaya, benefiting also the pastures
of the nomads. Scorched and squeezed dry like a bath-
sponge the rest of the clouds pass on over the high country
and are lost in the air before they can reach the desert
regions of Central Asia.
According to the mythology of the Hindus the Yakshas
are a kind of divine beings of lower rank in the service of
Kuvera, the god of wealth, who guards hidden treasures in
the Kailas mountain. There dwells the powerful Kuvera
with his divine court. He had committed the care of the
golden lotus lilies in the Manasa lake to a Yaksha.
Absorbed in his love for his beautiful wife the attendant
neglected his duty, and one night the lilies were trodden
down by the world elephants which keep watch at the eight
corners of the earth. Then Kuvera was wroth and
sentenced the Yaksha as a punishment to live apart from
his beloved wife for a whole year.
Consumed by sorrow and desire the exile spent the
weary lonely days in the south, in the holy forests of
the Rama mountain.
The legend is two thousand years old. Kalidasa, one
192 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
of the greatest masters of Hindu literature, the author of
the Sakuntala, has ennobled the theme and has composed
a lyrical poem with the holy mountains round Manasarowar
as background. The poem is called Meghaduta, or the
Cloud- Messenger, and it abounds in the gorgeousness of the
East and in spirited songs, glows with love and longing,
and contains a host of the finest, grandest descriptions of
nature.
One day one of the rain-clouds of the monsoon was
floating over the summit of the Rama mountain, and the
banished Yaksha called out to the rain-giver that he wished
him to take a greeting to his wife in the Kailas mountain.
For the clouds are Indra's envoys, and Indra is the god of
the sky. First the Yaksha presents flowers to the Cloud-
Messenger, and then he describes the course of the cloud
before the monsoon wind from the Rama mountain to
Kailas, where the deserted one dwells. He speaks in
lofty verse to the messenger, which sends his proud thunder
rolling among the hills and is accompanied by the royal
swans, the Rajahansas, who migrate to the Manasa lake
when the rainy season begins in India. In the language
of poetry the wild geese which make their nests every
spring on the islands of Rakas-tal are styled swans.
Kalidasa unfolds before our eyes an extremely enchant-
ing panorama of plains and meadows, forests and groves,
towns and rivers, which the Cloud-Messenger beholds on
his aerial journey. Often these descriptions are involved
in a cloud of mythological allusions and relieved by scenes
of pomp and love, but just as frequently we come upon
passages over which the cloud casts its shadow.
This is especially true of the end of the Cloud-Messen-
ger's journey ; the following lines are from the translation
of Professor H. H. Wilson (Calcutta, 1813):
Ascended thence a transient period rest,
Renowned Cailasa's venerated guest ;
That mount whose sides with brightest lustre shine,
A polished mirror worthy charms divine ;
Whose base a Ravan from its centre wTung,
Shaken not sundered, stable though unstrung.
Whose lofty peaks to distant realms in sight
Present a Siva's smile, a lotus white.
XVII MANASAROWAR 193
Now on the mountain's side like some dear friend
Behold the city of the Gods impend ;
Thy goal behold, where Ganga's winding rill
Skirts like a costly train the sacred hill ;
Where brilliant pearls descend in lucid showers
And clouds like tresses clothe her lofty towers.
To those loved scenes repaired, that awful size,
Like a young elephant, in haste disguise,
Lest terror seize my fair one, as thy form
Hangs o'er the hillock, and portends the storm.
Thence to the inner mansion bend thy sight.
Diffusing round a mild and quivering light.
As when through evening shades soft flashes play,
Where the bright fire-fly wings his glittering way.
The tresses are the clouds, the costly train is the
Ganges, which girdles Alaka,^ and which, therefore, in
Kalidasa's poem is supposed to have its source on Kailas.
It is little more than a hundred years since this erroneous
view was definitely confuted.
The Yaksha exhorts the Cloud-Messenger, after his
task is accomplished, to end his long journey on the
summit of Kailas in the form of an elephant. Among the
Tibetans, too, whose wisdom is borrowed from India, the
elephant plays a certain part in this country. In the
Nyandi monastery at the western foot of Kailas two
elephant's tusks, langchen-sala-rapten, are set up before
the altar ; all that the monks could say about them was
that they had been there as long as the monastery itself.
A monastery on the northern shore bears the name of the
elephant, Langbo-nan, and, finally, the Sutlej, which periodi-
cally flows out of the lake, is called Langchen-kamba, the
Elephant river.
But now let us leave the region of legend and poetry,
where we vainly grope for firm ground, and search
historical chronicles to see what they have to report about
the holy lake.
Manasarowar does not figure in the campaign of the
great Macedonian. Ptolemy did not know of the lake.
Marco Polo and other travellers in the Middle Ages did
not hear its name. The migrations of nations took other
1 The town of Kuvera and the Yaksha.
194
TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
routes and left Manasarowar undisturbed, a wild rose
among inaccessible mountains. For hundreds of years the
wild geese continued to fly over the Himalayas, and
pilgrims bent their steps towards the lake of truth and
enlightenment, and its name was never borne on the wings
of fame to Western lands.
When at length, in comparatively recent times, we
seem to catch a glimpse of the lake, we still find ourselves
left in uncertainty and know not what to believe. In the
year 1553 the Khan of Yarkand sent his general, Mirza
Haidar, with an army to raze to the ground the idol temple
in Lhasa. The army made havoc in the country like a
plague, but was itself decimated and did not attain its
proper object. In the description of his campaign, Mirza
Haidar says : " After a journey of a month a country was
reached where there is a lake : it has a circumference of
forty farsakh, and on the shore stands a fortress called
Luk-u-Labuk. There we halted for the night." This
lake can be no other than Manasarowar, for Mirza Haidar
travelled along the same road as Desideri two hundred
years later.
In old writings on the Himalayan regions a Jesuit,
Father Antonio de Monserrate, is mentioned, who in the
year 1581 accompanied the Emperor Akbar on his progress
to Kabul, and is said to have heard of a lake Manasarowar.
I have obtained information about him only at second and
third hand ; I have not succeeded in finding any report
from his own hand.
Francois Bernier, who accompanied the Great Mogul,
Aurangzeb, on his journey to Kashmir, and described his
experiences in 1699, could not compare with Ptolemy in his
knowledge of the courses of the great Indian rivers, though
he lived fifteen hundred years after the time of the great
master. But in his scheme of the mountains in the north
of India he is on a par with Ptolemy. He gives us a single
mountain range named Caucasus, and Tibet shrinks up to
nothing. On a map in Bernier's work, however, we find
to the east of Kashmir a " Petit Thibet Royaume." The
chief branch of the Indus comes from Mont Caucase, and
the river receives no water from lands beyond the boundary
XVII MANASAROWAR
195
of Kashmir. Though the French traveller inquired of
merchants about the roads to the north and east, he heard
nothing of the holy lake.
D' Anville's " Carte Generale du Thibet "(1733), which is
reproduced at the end of Vol. I. of this book, supplies for the
first time a clear trustworthy representation of Manasarowar
and the Rakas-tal. This ground was investigated by Kang
Hi's lama topographers. They must have stayed a long
time at the lakes, for this region far in the west of great Tibet
is better and more exactly surveyed than any other part of
the country. The wreath of mountains round the basin
gives us a correct picture of the reality. To the north
rises Kentaisse or Kailas, in the south-east a brook
emerges from the Lantchia Kepou mountains and corre-
sponds to my Langchen-kabab, the headwater of the Sutlej.
In the year 1907 I obtained the same results as Kang Hi's
topographers. The rivulet represented as flowing to the
lake from the south-east is the Tage-tsangpo, which I have
called the origin of the Sutlej. Here we come to a
problem which in connection with the holy lake will claim
our attention more than once in the following description.
D'Anville, following his Lamaist authority, gives the
lakes Tibetan names, the eastern lake Mapama and the
western Lankan, instead of the names Tso-mavang and
Langak-tso, which are more correct. Of the former a
better map was compiled than we find one hundred and
fifty years later. Between the two runs a connecting river
course. This, too, is a link in the chain of the Sutlej. In
the years 1907 and 1908 the bed of this channel was dry,
as it had often been before. Here we come to a second
problem, the question of the periodical variations of pre-
cipitation, which are the cause why water flows out of
Manasarowar only in rainy years. During certain periods
the rain is so abundant that the Langak-tso or Rakas-tal
also discharges water, and then only has the river an un-
interrupted course. This was the case when Kang Hi's
topographers reconnoitred the country and correctly named
the river running out of the lakes Lan-chou or Lang-chu,
that is Langchen-kamba, Elephant river, Sutlej.
But who is to blame for the fatal error which the
196 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Seigneur D'Anville, Geographe du Roi, has perpetrated ?
He makes the Lan-tchou identical with the Ganges, and the
upper Indus a tributary entering that river. In his great
work, Descriptio7t de la Chine, Father du Halde states that
the two lamas sent out by Kang Hi obtained their in-
formation about the source of the Ganges from " lamas
living in the neighbouring pagodas and from documents
found in the palace of the Grand Lama in Lhasa." This
statement cannot be right, for the monks round Mana-
sarowar knew very well that the river issuing from the
lake was the Sutlej and not the Ganges.
The first traveller who described Manasarowar in words
was the incomparable Father Desideri. He relates that
he and Freyre reached the highest elevations on the road
from Leh to Lhasa on November 9, 171 5, and says that
" the water which streams thence westwards is the origin
of the Indus, while that which runs eastwards forms the
Ganges."
In the following lines he is the first to allude to the
problem, since then become so difficult, of the relations of
the great rivers to Manasarowar.
We travel on over a plain called Retoa, where there is a large
lake, which it takes several days to go round, and from which, it is
supposed, the Ganges originates. But from all that I was able to
observe on my journey and the confirmatory statements of men
who were acquainted with this country as well as with the empire
of the Great Mogul, I am forced to conclude that the mountain
Ngari Giongar (Kailas) is not only the source of the Ganges, but
also of the Indus. As this mountain is the highest point from which
the land falls in both directions, the water flowing down from the
western side — whether it be rain-water or melted snow — runs to the
second Tibet (Ladak), which is evident from the actual conditions,
and after traversing it (Ladak) passes through Little Tibet (Baltis-
tan). Then it rolls down through all the mountains of Kashmir,
and at length reaches Little Guzaratta to form the mighty navi-
gable Indus. In the same way the water descending from the east
side of Ngari Giongar (Kailas) runs first into the already-mentioned
lake Rctoa (Manasarowar), and then continuing its course down-
wards forms the Ganges. A proof of this is furnished by the follow-
ing circumstance. In the writings of our forefathers there is much
talk of the golden sand of the Ganges. If, then, we were to assume
that the origin and source of that river lay anywhere else we should
XVII MANASAROWAR 197
give our forefathers the lie, for at no other part of the river's course
(except at Kailas and Manasarowar) can a trace of such sand be
detected. If, however, my theory is approved, namely, that the
source of the Ganges lies on that summit and in the lake Retoa,
the statements of old authors are quite in harmony with my views.
For, as is known — and, I venture to say, known throughout the
world — there is much gold dust on the shores and in the sand
round this lake, which the rivers descending from Kailas and other
adjacent mountains wash down from the surface of these moun-
tains. Tibetans and a number of traders resort from time to time
to the lake to search for and collect the gold, and derive a large
profit from it. The lake is, moreover, the object of great reverence
among this superstitious people ; therefore they make pilgrimages
from time to time to this district and wander round the lake with
deep devotion, for they believe that thereby they will secure for-
giveness of sins and obtain many special indulgences.
These words were written by a Jesuit priest two
hundred years ago. Desideri, who travelled with a Tatar
princess and her immense retinue, had probably no oppor-
tunity of making the circuit of the lake himself and ascer-
taining what rivers flowed out of it. But he believes from
his observations and the reports of Indian pilgrims that
the farthest roots of the Indus as well as of the Ganges
are to be found in Kailas. The Singi-kabab, the source
of the Indus, lies not far off in the north of the Trans-
Himalaya. But the Ganges! Desideri has confused the
Sutlej with the sacred river of Benares, and was loath to
disturb the harmony between the assertions of " our fore-
fathers " and the occurrence, "known throughout the world,"
of auriferous sand on the banks of Manasarowar. We may
be pretty certain that on that winter day when Desideri
rode beside Manasarowar no European except himself and
Freyre had any suspicion of the existence of this lake.
In winter most of the streams fail or are frozen up. If,
furthermore, a snowstorm sweeps over the country, all is
levelled down, and the most concentrated attention is
required to unravel the hydrography. The Hindus have
known of old the high alpine valley where the spring
gushes forth which gives birth to the river of Benares.
The Tibetans are equally aware that the watercourse
which at times issues from Manasarowar is the Elephant
river, the Sutlej. But if the monks living in the Chiu
198 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
monastery are asked the name of the channel, they answer
to this day Ganga or Nganga. Possibly this name misled
Desideri. At all events it was not his fault that EngHsh
topographers in much later times confused the Sutlej with
the Ganges. He was the pioneer. Who could demand of
him that he should grasp in two days the scheme of these
singular waterways, about which explorers and travellers
have disputed and squabbled for two hundred years after
his time. To me, who have explored all round the lakes
for a longer time than any of my predecessors, it is con-
soling and refreshing to find again " il lago di Retoa " in
the old diary of Father Desideri.
In the report of Father Souciet {^Observations math^-
matiqties, etc.,faites a la Chine, Paris, 1729) Father Gaubil
publishes a memoir on the sources of the Ganges " accord-
ing to Chinese and Tatar maps." That we may not
have to dip into Gaubil's text, I refer to his map ; it is
valuable and interesting. When compared with my map
it is easy to understand. The Mont Cantos is Kailas.
On its north-western flank we have the source of the
Indus. Why of the Indus.-* Well, along its course we find
Tashi-gang and Ladak, though the names are a little dis-
torted. It is the southern branch, the Gartong, which is
meant ; the main branch from the Singi-kabab was not
known.
South-east of the holy mountain the three head-streams
of the Ganges flow into the lake Lapama or Manasarowar.
Thence a stream pours out to the Lanka lake or Rakas-tal
and leaves it again to run on westwards. This river is
the Sutlej. Why should it be the Sutlej } Because we
recognize along its course the names Guge, Tsaparang,
and Chumurti, also corrupted.
Again we come across the serious misconception of
uniting the Indus and Sutlej to form the Ganges.
D'Anville committed the same mistake. Therefore it is
clearly evident that D'Anville and Gaubil drew their in-
formation from the same origin — the exploration of Kang
Hi's lamas. These did not travel far enough westwards
to ascertain the ultimate fate of the two rivers. The draw-
ing of the ground is in the main correct, and the hydro-
XVII MANASAROWAR 199
graphy accords with the reality ; the only error is that the
name Ganges is inserted instead of Sutlej.
When we hear next of Manasarowar the Jesuit father
Joseph Tieffenthaler is our informant. He was born at
Bozen in 1715, went at twenty-eight years of age to Goa,
and then for a long series of years wandered through
different parts of India, noting down anything remarkable
that he saw and experienced. Then in 1765 he betook
himself to Bengal and applied for assistance " to the famous
English nation which is well known for its generosity and
its pity for the poor and wretched."
It is not always possible to gather from Tieffenthaler's
reports whether they are the result of his own observations
or whether he relied on hearsay. One is often tempted to
apply his remarks on the classical authors, who named the
Himalayas of Kumaon Imaus, to himself: "They did
not see these countries and are usually wrong in their
descriptions of distant regions." But we are ready to
forgive him because he says quite correctly that the
source of the Indus must be sought for in the mountains
of Tibet.
Of Tibet he has heard that it lies for five months
under a covering of snow. Thence come the softest
wool, musk, and white oxtails. The land is governed by
a spiritual ruler, the Lama Goru, whom he calls " magnus
magister " ; he belongs to an order of hermits and is
worshipped as a god. He lives in Patala. Information
of this kind had reached Siberia fifty years earlier, and the
Swede Strahlenberg, who was living there as a Russian
prisoner of war, collected invaluable geographical material.
But now we are concerned only with the miraculous
lake and the sacred rivers.
Tieffenthaler entered into correspondence with the
famous Anquetil du Perron, who looked through his
material and published it in his Description historique et
gdographique de flnde.
As regards the source of the Ganges Tieffenthaler
affirms that it will never be discovered because the way
beyond the gorge of the "cow's mouth" is impassable.
His commentator observes that there are no impassable
200 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
roads for those who have legs to walk — " invia tenaci nulla
est via." As an excuse for the father, Anquetil mentions
that the sources are considered inaccessible both in Bengal
and Tibet, because the holy river comes from heaven.
He has no faith in the expedition which the great Emperor
Akbar sent out at the end of the sixteenth century to
search for the source of the Ganges. The envoys saw the
water of the river gush out in great abundance in a ravine
under a mountain which resembled a cow's head. Anquetil
does not believe that the cow's head can rise above the
real source, which must rather be looked for in the great
Tatary. English explorers, however, were soon to estab-
lish the fact that the information which Akbar's envoys
brought to their master was correct.
There is every reason to suppose that the maps
which Tieffenthaler sent to Anquetil du Perron had been
originally drawn by natives for the Emperor Akbar. For
the father acknowledges that he had never been himself in
the high regions but had heard news about them.
In Anquetil's description it is said of the two lakes :
The eastern, called Mansaroar or Mansara, is very famous in
the country and has, according to Father Tiefifenthaler's notes, a
circumference of 60 coss (Indian miles). The western is named
Lanka and has a circumference of more than 1 1 coss. According
to the statement of the learned missionary, the Brahmaputra river,
which flows to Assam and Rangamati, comes out of the lake Man-
saroar. From the upper part of Mansaroar, that is the north-
western, a river issues, beside which is written in Persian: "the
great river Sutlej which goes in the direction of the Punjab —
consequently westwards."
To this sensible and correct Persian statement, which
probably dates from the end of the sixteenth century,
Anquetil adds the unfortunate remark: "It is asserted
that the Sutlej, which flows to Bilaspur and Ludiana, comes
down from that lake ; but this affirmation is unworthy of
credit, for it is more probable that the river flowing out of
the lake unites with the Alaknanda which waters Badrinat
and Srinagar."
The Alaknanda is one of the eastern headwaters of
the Ganges. Here, then, there is another example of the
xv.i MANASAROWAR 201
confusion of the Sutlej and Ganges, or at any rate a
tributary of the latter.
On Rakas-tal we read : " Beside the large lake Man-
saroar and on its west side is the Lanka lake, which the
German missionary writes Lanka Dhd This lake, out of
which on the west the Sarju river flows, is much smaller
than Mansaroar." It was already stated in the Skanda
Purana that the Sarju or Gogra, the Map-chu or Peacock
river of the Tibetans, comes from the lakes, not, however,
from Rakas-tal but from Manasarowar. Tieffenthaler is
here not sure of his facts. He says himself: " Certiora
alias exploranda."
Anquetil is all the more positive. He inquires how
far D'Anville is right in naming the river issuing from
Lanka or Rakas-tal the Ganges. We hope in vain that
he will after all decide that the river flowing out of the
lake is the Sutlej. But no, he points out that it is an
affluent of the Ganges, the Gogra or Peacock river. He
says that D'Anville's map of the lamas is incorrect, yet
this map was very much better than Tieffenthaler's.
He is more fortunate in his conjecture that the
Tsangpo is the upper course of the Brahmaputra ; but
while Father R^gis is satisfied with placing the source
of the Tsangpo in the neighbourhood of Manasarowar,
Anquetil takes Tieffenthaler's bait and makes the river
flow out of that lake.
In conclusion he summarizes the data about the two
lakes supplied by Tieffenthaler's map, namely, "the hitherto
unknown sources of the three greatest rivers of that
country : the Sarju, which flows out of the Lanka lake,
and the course of which is marked on no European map ;
the Sutlej, which runs north-westwards from Manasaroar
and flows towards the Punjab; and the Brahmaputra or
Tsangpo, which springs from the outflow of this lake on
the eastern shore, and which traverses a large part of Tibet
before it makes a bend to the south-west to pour into the
Ganges below Daka."
It must have been a delight to the learned Anquetil
thus to revel in the wealth of knowledge placed at his dis-
posal by Tiefl"enthaler. Like Gaubil and D'Anville, he
202 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
exercised all the acuteness of his intellect in determining
the source of the Ganges from Chinese, Tatar, and Indian
chronicles and records. Ritter placed no confidence in the
oriental statements. He calls them ostensibly official, and
yet in every respect, if not entirely false, at any rate only
half true. Among these he reckons also the maps which
Father Tieffenthaler sent to Europe from Hindustan.
Therein Ritter is too severe. It is not difficult with the
light of our present knowledge to interpret and understand
the attempts made by the peoples of the East.
When the curious map sent by Tieffenthaler to
Anquetil is compared with the map in the second volume
of Trans- Himalaya, it must be admitted that the resem-
blance is very slight. The most singular feature is the
hydrography. We see the Brahmaputra flowing out of
Manasarowar on the east. How is that possible } Shah
Akbar's envoys no doubt went round the lake. The
Persian note on the map runs: "The great river which
goes in the direction of the Punjab." If a Hindu had
given the information the error would have been easier to
understand, for he would have been influenced by religious
prejudices and have been blinded by them. The Mana-
sarowar was created from the soul of Brahma and the
Brahmaputra is Brahma's son. But a Mohammedan wrote
the Persian inscription. Possibly Hindus may have drawn
the map and the writing was added by Mohammedans in
India.
There is actually a river, which interrupts the regularity
of the eastern shore line, but this river flows into the lake,
not out of it. It is our old Tage - tsangpo, the source
stream of the Sutlej, which debouches there. Perhaps
the natives who are responsible for the map had simply
forgotten in which direction the water ran, and did
not ^ perpetrate the mistake until after their return to
India.
The map gives no information about the river in the
south-west. We may, therefore, consider it certain that
it represents one of the rivers that descend from Gurla
Mandatta to the lake. We may be the more certain of
this because the map shows in the same neighbourhood a
XVII MANASAROWAR 203
temple with hermits' cells, which is evidently the great
monastery Tugu-gompa.
The river flowing out of the lake north-westwards
especially attracts our attention. Here we have only to
keep to the original genuine statement in Persian which
says : " The_ great river Sutlej which goes in the direction
of the Punjab." Whenever the map was drawn, the
Sutlej then streamed out of the lake. But how is it that
the draughtsman did not know that the river entered
Rakas-tal.? Probably because he had crossed it only at
the shore of Manasarowar and had not troubled himself
further about it. Owing to this neglect he has made two
rivers run out of the lakes westward instead of one. For
he saw that a river issued from the Rakas-tal, his Lanka
Dhe, and thought that this river was the Sarju, Map-chu.
He will have nothing to do with any water connection
between the two lakes. Manasarowar belongs to the
system of the Sutlej, Rakas-tal to that of the Ganges. If
he had examined the isthmus between the two lakes, he
would have found that his Sutlej flowed out of Mana-
sarowar into Rakas-tal, and that the river draining the
western lake was still " the great river Sutlej which goes
in the direction of the Punjab."
Tieffenthaler's map conjures out of the mirror of Mana-
sarowar a monstrous bifurcation, which, as unique on the
earth's surface, really ought to have roused the suspicion
of Anquetil du Perron — two gigantic rivers running out of
the same lake, the Brahmaputra flowing eastwards, the
Sutlej westwards.
At first sight the map of Eastern Asia seems more
than fanciful. After closer examination we detect its
meaning. It shows that at the end of the sixteenth century,
and perhaps before the time when Tieffenthaler sojourned
in India, the two lakes were closely connected with the
river system of the Sutlej, the upper course of the stream
passing through both, and then continuing on its headlong
path through the Himalayas, past Tirtapuri, Totling, and
Kanam. In a recently published book, Les Royaumes des
Neiges, Charles Eudes Bonin has instituted an excellent
comparison of Tieffenthaler's map with my results.
204 TRANS-H I MALAYA chap.
In Chapter L. of the second volume of Trans- Himalaya,
"The Source of the Sutlej," I have already given the
notable contents of a Chinese work, Shui-tao-ti-kang, or
The Elements of Hydrography, which was published in the
year 1762. Therein the earliest wanderings of the river
are depicted in a manner which agrees in details with
the reality, and shows that the Chinese then also, as in the
time of Kang Hi, were much better informed about those
waterways than modern Europeans who had not been
there, but thought that they could solve the problem out
of their own heads. The Chinese text states in short
decided sentences that the water of Lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-
shan, or the mountain Langchen-kabab, forms the lake
Ma-piu-mu-ta-lai, or Manasarowar, and then adds : " The
water (that is, the Sutlej) flows out from the west of
the lake into the lake Lang-ka (Rakas-tal) at a distance
of 60 li. The water (of lake Lang-ka) flows out from the
west, and after running westwards for more than 100 li it
turns to the south-west, and is now called the Lang-chu-ho."
Lang signifies bull or elephant, and chu means water in
Tibetan, while ho is the Chinese word for river.
When Major J. Rennell published in the year 1782 his
fine map of Hindustan, in which southern Tibet appears in
part, he had for this country no other material to guide
him but D'Anville's map which had appeared fifty years
earlier. He makes the Indus rise in the mountainous
regions west of Kashgar, and the Sutlej descend from the
southern flank of the Himalayas. But he lets the true
upper Indus, which flows through Ladak, and the upper
Sutlej, which runs past Totling, be captured by the basin
of the Ganges. Rennell, however, confesses that he has
made use of D'Anville's map only from want of better
material, and he expresses a doubt whether the headwaters
of the Ganges can extend so far north-westwards as they
are shown on D'Anville's map. He considers it certain,
however, that the Ganges and Brahmaputra rise on either
side of the same ridge east of Manasarowar, and that
alter enormous detours — one to the west, the other to the
east — they debouch into the sea at the same place.
Rennell was subjected to pretty sharp criticism, by
xvii MANASAROWAR 205
Anquetil du Perron, for instance, who pointed out that he
had shown the defectiveness of D'Anville's map in 1776,
for the Gogra, and not the Ganges, rose in the same ridge
in Tibet as the Brahmaputra. It was not discovered,
however, until some fifty years later that both Rennell
and Anquetil were wrong in their explanations of the
maps of D'Anville and Tieffenthaler.
When, then, Rennell's map shows a watercourse
between the two lakes and a river issuing from Rakas-tal
on the west, which is called the Ganges, we recognize on
the one hand the correct interpretation discovered by the
lama topographers, and on the other the usual confusion
of the Ganges with the Sutlej.
In the Anglo-Indian periodical Asiatick Researches
for the year 1798, there is an article with the title, "An
Account of Two Fakirs," published by a Mr. Duncan.
In this also Manasarowar passes rapidly before our eyes.
One fakir, Purana Poori of Benares, held his folded
hands above his head until his arms grew stiff in this
unnatural position. He was an intelligent and trustworthy
man, and narrated his adventures in 1792. On his
wanderings through the world he had visited Balkh,
Bukhara, Samarcand, Badakshan, and Kashmir. He had
been at the Gangotri, the source of the Ganges, and
had found that the river at its origin was so narrow that
a man might jump over it. From Khatmandu he had
travelled into the interior of Tibet, to Lhasa and Shigatse.
Thence he marched in eighty days to the lake " Maun
Surwur."
Of this lake the fakir gave the following account :
Its circumference is of six days' journey, and around it are
twenty or five-and-twenty^<3z^;/mm (or religious stations or temples),
and the habitations of the people called Dowki, whose dress is
like that of the Thibetians. The Maun Surwur is one lake, but in
the middle of it there arises, as it were, a partition wall, and the
northern part is called Maun Surwur, and the southern Lunkadh
or Lunkadeh. From the Maun Surwur part issues one river, and
from the Lunkadh part two rivers. The first is called Brdhma,
where Puresram making Tupieya, the Brahmaputra issued out, and
took its course eastward ; and of the two streams that issue from
the Lunkadh, one is called the Surju, being the same which flows
2o6 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
by Ayoddja or Oude ; and the other is called Sutrooda (or in the
Puranas Shutudru, and vulgarly the Sutluje), which flows into the
Punjaub country ; and two days' journey west from the Maun
Surwur is the large town of Teree Laddc. . . . Proceeding from
Laddc seven days' journey to the southward there is a mountain
called Cailasa Cungri (Cungur meaning a peak), which is ex-
ceedingly lofty, and on its summit there is a Bhowjputr or
Bhoojputr tree, from the root of which spouts or gushes a small
stream, which the people say is the source of the Ganges, and that
it comes from Vaicont'ha or heaven, as is also related in the
Puranas.
It is not said when the fakir travelled to the lake ;
perhaps ten years before he recounted his observations,
perhaps even tv^^enty. At any rate his memory played
him false. He has confused Kailas vi^ith a mountain of
the same name lying more to the south. Like Tieffen-
thaler's informants, he makes the Brahmaputra begin at
Manasarowar. The only accurate detail he has given is
the outflow of the Sutlej from the Langak-tso. Though
he made the circuit of Manasarowar, which is prescribed
to pilgrims, it never occurred to him that the Sutlej runs
out of this lake. The origin of the Sarju river is a
reminder of Tieffenthaler's map, and the spelling of the
names is also similar.
The other fakir had nothing to tell of the complicated
waterways. He only noticed that four countries met at
Maun Talai (Manasarowar), namely, China, the " Lama
Land," Beshahr, and Kulu.
Year after year pilgrims have wandered round the lake
for the purification of their souls and in hopes of attaining
to the paradise of Brahma and the heaven of Siva. But
they have taken their experiences with them when they
entered on the dark road beyond the pyre on the quay at
Benares, and their knowledge has vanished in the ocean
of oblivion just as thoroughly as their ashes have been
borne down by the eddies of the Ganges to the Bay of
Bengal, and been there lost in the briny deep. Oh, if we
possessed a chronicle of all that they have seen every year
for many centuries ! They have trodden out paths on the
margin of the shore with their pious feet. For thousands
of years Siva's guests have performed the round dance
Tcmjjiu^tschejv
PujuiU\
Latac
Fausse Source, duu Gange .
Payude
Sources du,
Gajige
Observations- Mathem
et Phys. ECc. rediu ees
Ft. m.
Gaubil's Map of the Two Lakes and ihe Source of the Ganges.
Moorcroft's Map of Manasarowar and Rakas-tal.
Anquetil du Perron's Map of Manasarowar and Rakas-tai..
XVII MANASAROWAR 207
which was to lead them to an imaginary heaven. If only
one devotee each year had recorded what he saw on a
stone tablet in a pagoda !
Some of them have seen the Sutlej come forth from
Manasarowar, and to get over the river have crossed the
bridge which stood just below the Chiu monastery and
was restored from time to time. It still stands there, and
old water-marks may be seen on the conglomerate blocks
of the bridge-heads. Others have seen a miserable thread
of water trickling down the bed, while others again have
found not a drop in the channel and have crossed dry-shod.
If we knew now what was known to those wanderers
of the age when the first pilgrim made his round of the
lake, we could draw a curve of the periodic rise and fall of
the lake level. We should see how the lake rose after
rainy summers, and how it fell in years of drought. The
effect of the monsoon on the highlands would be apparent,
and we should perceive that the lake created from the soul
of Brahma is living, and that its pulse beats in rhythmical
periodic time in obedience to the unknown laws of heaven.
But the pilgrims have not revealed their secrets, and
nothing remains for us but to search out and collect the
notes made by a small number of travellers.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE FIRST ENGLISHMEN AT THE HOLY LAKE
Captain F. Wilford, in his " Essay on the Sacred Isles
in the West," which appeared in 1808, has communicated
what he heard from the famous Purangir, a man who was
repeatedly employed by Warren Hastings as interpreter
and spy in Bhutan and Tibet, accompanied Bogle and
Turner on their journey, and in the year 1779 the Tashi
Lama on his march to Pekin. Purangir was a Brahmin,
and had made the pilgrimage to Manasarowar, probably
shortly before 1773. During his visit there he heard that
the lake was wont to overflow during the rainy season, and
that the channel then carried water, but failed during the
dry season. It should be noted that the surface of the
lake rises and falls every year, but that the bed remains
dry in some years even during the rainy season.
Purangir believed that the Ganges had its source on
Kailas, and flowed thence to Manasarowar. He describes
the circle of mountains ; he says correctly that the lake has
the form of an irregular oval approaching to a circle ; he
took five whole days to walk round it, and on the south bank
he visited the principal temple, the present Tugu-gompa.
" The Ganges issues from it (the lake), and during the dry
season its stream is hardly five or six inches deep. It
does not go through the lake called Lanken in the maps ;
it flows to the south-east of it at the distance of two or
three coss."
Here we have, then, a notice that the water about the
year 1770 issued from Manasarowar even during the
dry season, and, as usual, we have the name Ganges put
2o8
CHAP. XVIII ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 209
in the place of Sutlej. Purangir denies that the river
runs through Rakas-tal. But of this he knows no more
than other pilgrims. They never turned their steps
towards the other lake. It is not holy, and is not touched
by the pilgrim route. Purangir, therefore, did not see for
himself in which direction the false Ganges flowed, and he
did not know that the river by which he stood certainly
does not take the way to Benares, but cuts its bed through
the Himalayas to make for the Indus.
Wilford makes some bold statements, and perhaps these
caused Klaproth to write such a biting criticism of the
work. For Wilford says that Pliny and Ctesias mentioned
the lake, and Marco Polo described it, whereas their
writings contain not a word about Manasarowar.
How dangerous it is to attempt to draw geographical
conclusions from religious errors and articles of faith may
be seen from the statement of Wilford, that " the four
sacred rivers, springing from the Mdnsarovara, according
to the divines of Tibet, are the Brahma-putra, the Ganges,
the Indus and the Sita. The Ganges is the only one
that really issues from that lake, and if the three others
do, it must be through subterranean channels ; and such
communications, whether real or imaginary, are very com-
mon in the Puranas." The four rivers which the Tibetans
connect with the holy lake are those which gush forth from
the mouths of the lion, the elephant, the horse, and the
peacock. But the Ganges, from the head of the sacred
cow, is not among them. The fourth is the Gogra or
Map-chu, the Peacock river. The nomads, who are less
imbued with Lamaistic ideas, say quite plainly that only
the Sutlej flows out of the lake, and this only at times.
D'Anville's map shines like a lighthouse over Tibet.
Some parts of it have been proved incorrect by later
English explorations, and therefore its authority has been
undermined. Other regions were for nearly a hundred
years accepted as represented. The rest was, as we have
seen, rejected only in the second half of the nineteenth
century. The most remarkable feature in D'Anville's map
is the indication that the Ganges issues from Manasarowar ;
this was a burning question a hundred years ago. In the
I'
2IO TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
year 1812 H. T. Colebrooke published an article "On the
Sources of the Ganges in the Himddri or Emodus." As
we have had so many false data on this subject, it may not
be amiss to consider the discovery of the Ganges source.
Colebrooke had great doubts as to the accuracy of the
statement made by Kang Hi's lamas. Hindu pilgrims
were wont to follow the Ganges up to the foot of the
snowy mountains, while Kang Hi's lamas advanced to the
lakes and Kailas in the west. Between these terminal
points rise the mighty Himalayas, and it is impossible to
determine from their southern side the courses of rivers in
the north.
If geographers had been asked in the year 1906 to
point out on a large-scale map of western Tibet the source
of the Brahmaputra, they would have been considerably
perplexed, and each would have laid his finger on a different
place. Even those who knew Ryder's results would have
given undecided answers. No one, not even Ryder him-
self, could have placed the point of the compasses on a
particular point and said " Here." The position of the
Sutlej source would have been fixed with still greater
uncertainty, and only those who knew the records would
have answered that the question had not yet been decided.
The source of the Indus might have been located within a
narrower circle, though its radius would have measured
twenty miles ; but no European had tried to reach it, and
Montgomerie's pundits had been obliged to turn back
when they were still several days' journey from the source.
At last in the year 1907 I succeeded in finding my way
to the sources of all three rivers. I succeeded because I
was determined to find them, and because I did not give
myself up to chance like chaff driven before the wind. In
the case of the Brahmaputra and Indus I followed the
streams upwards, which is the surest method. In the case
of the Sutlej I followed the river down from its source, and
not until I had collected all my data could I prove that the
end of the Ganglung glacier, from which the Tage-tsangpo
flows, is the source of the Sutlej.
A hundred years earlier the question of the Ganges
source was much more vague. It is, of course, owing to
XVIII ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 211
the difficulties always placed in the way of Europeans by
the Tibetans, and the aversion of the Indian Government
to any complications on the frontier, that Englishmen have
not long ago penetrated into the country and discovered
the sources of the Brahmaputra, Indus, and Sutlej. My
success was due to the respect towards Europeans with
which Younghusband's expedition inspired the Tibetans,
and also to the fact that I received no instructions from the
Indian Government. The source of the Ganges was dis-
covered in 1808, those of the other three rivers in 1907.
On the former event Colebrooke says :
Perhaps the national credit was concerned not to leave in uncer-
tainty and doubt a question which the EngUsh only have the best
opportunity of solving, and one at the same time interesting, as
that of exploring the springs of one of the greatest rivers of the old
continent, and whose waters fertilize and enrich the British terri-
tories which it traverses in its whole navigable extent.
The expedition was accomplished by Lieutenant Webb
and the Captains Raper and Hearsey. It followed the
track of Antonio de Andrade. Two hundred years earlier
this traveller on his way over the Mana pass to Tsaparang
had, without knowing it, passed by the source of the
Ganges. The sources of the Indus, Sutlej, and Brahma-
putra neither Catholic missionaries nor any one else had
passed before the year 1907.
The instructions given to Lieutenant Webb by the
Supreme Government of Bengal contain the following
paragraph :
To ascertain whether this {i.e. the cascade or subterraneous
passage at Gangotri) be the ultimate source of the Ganges ; and in
case it should prove otherwise, to trace the river, by survey, as far
towards its genuine source as possible. To learn, in particular,
whether, as stated by Major Rennell, it arise from the lake Man-
asarobar ; and, should evidence be obtained confirming his account,
to get, as nearly as practicable, the bearing and distance of that lake.
Webb accomplished his task, and reported that the
Ganges rose on the southern slope of the Himalayas and
that, as trustworthy natives had informed him, " no river,
except one, exists westwards of the Manasarowar lake ;
that this river is called the Saturaj (Satalaj) river."
212 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Captain Raper has given an excellent description of
that important journey. Gangotri was the source of the
Ganges. The problem of a connection between the
Ganges and Manasarowar was finally settled. But which
river was that which had figured so long between the lakes
and to the west of Rakas-tal ? This question had yet to
be answered.
On a later occasion, in the year 1816, Webb learned
from a Tibetan border chief that more than a hundred
streams poured into Manasarowar, but that the lake had
only one outlet to the Rakas-tal, a channel which, however,
was often dry.
William Moorcroft was a veterinary surgeon who in
1808 went to Calcutta at the invitation of the directors of
the East India Company. His name is famous in connec-
tion with Manasarowar, and his narrative of the journey he
undertook with Captain Hearsey in 181 2 to the north-
western shore of that lake, is some of the best literature we
have on the holy lake. But his hydrographical results were
negative. Thus Colebrooke says in his introduction to
Moorcroft's narrative : " He ascertained the existence and
approximately determined the situation of Manasar6vara,
verifying at the same time the fact that it gives origin
neither to the Ganges nor to any other of the rivers
reported to flow from it." Colebrooke, however, adds the
suggestion that the lake when it rises sufficiently may
discharge its surplus water to Rakas-tal, from which the
Sutlej originates,
Moorcroft travelled over the heights of the Himalayas.
At the sight of the huge snow-clad mountains he could not
understand why people had not been content to ascribe the
Ganges to them, but insisted on bringing the river out of a
lake, which also must be constantly fed by rivulets. This
truth has been forgotten by some learned men of our days.
It is not enough to say that Manasarowar is the source of
the Sutlej. The largest of the streams that feed the lake is
the uppermost course of the Sutlej. And as the Tage-
tsangpo is very much larger than all the rest, there can be
no doubt where the real source lies.
They gained Tibet over the Niti pass (17,568 feet).
ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 213
The pass was so high that a handful of resolute men could
have held it against a whole army by rolling down large
blocks of stone. The two Englishmen travelled in disguise
and gave themselves out for merchants. They got safely
past Daba and came to Gartok. The Garpun had no
objection to their extending their journey to Manasarowar.
But when Moorcroft asked to be allowed to make the
journey back over some other pass than the Niti, the
answer was " No," for the Garpun would lose his head
if the strangers did not go back by the same way they had
come — ^just as at the present day.
Moorcroft proceeded south-eastwards and found at the
foot of the rock on which the Tirtapuri cloister is built " a
very rapid stream, which is said to proceed from a lake at
the foot of the Himalaya, called Rawanhrad (Rakas-tal), and
to constitute the principal branch of the Satudrd." We will
not do more than mention that the words in the text do
not agree with Moorcroft's map. Worthy of notice is the
circumstance that, according to the statement of the lamas
of Tirtapuri, the Sutlej came from Rakas-tal, though the
channel between the two lakes was dry, and therefore
no water could flow out of the western lake unless through
subterranean passages. Hence it seems that the monks
trace back the Sutlej to Rakas-tal, in spite of climatic
variations which cause the water to fail periodically.
After two more days' journey Moorcroft descried to the
south " a large sheet of remarkably blue water at the foot
of the mountains to the right, called Rdwanhrad, said to
give rise to the principal branch of the Satiidra, and to
communicate by a river with the lake Mansarowar, named
by the natives Mapang." Moorcroft therefore approached
the holy lake with the conviction that the water ran through
both lakes. That the Ganges does not receive a drop
of water from this direction had already been proved by
Webb's expedition. Now Moorcroft had to find out how
matters stood with regard to the Sutlej.
On August 6, 1 81 2, Moorcroft walked along the shore
of Manasarowar to Chiu-gompa, and mounted a hill on its
southern side. He looked in vain for an outlet. As far as
the eye could perceive through the field-glass there was no
214 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
depression between the two lakes, no interruptions in the
hills. He sent scouts to the southern shore, and they
returned with the news that no drainage stream issued from
the lake.
He returned to his camp convinced that no rivers flowed
out of Manasarowar. And yet on his walk near Chiu-
gompa he had twice crossed the dry bed without remarking
that it might at times at any rate serve as an outlet. The
next day he again sent men off along the western shore
to confirm his observations. When they returned they
assured him that they had not even found a sign of any old
dried-up bed.
An old pundit named Harballabh, who was Moorcroft's
companion on this journey, assured him before they reached
the lake that a watercourse issued from Manasarowar,
entered the Rakas-tal, and left it again on the western
shore as the Sutlej. Harballabh was vexed at the result
of the investigation, for it seemed to cast an aspersion on
his credibility. He affirmed with great positiveness that
sixteen years before, that is in 1796, he could not have
crossed the channel between the eastern and western lakes
if there had not been a bridge below Chiu-gompa. Also a
man from Ladak told how, eight years before, or in 1804, he
had seen the stream flowing out of the lake, which had
subsequently ceased to run, and that then the bed had dried
up and been filled with sand.
Again Moorcroft sent out scouts who returned with the
same negative result. After all he could only explain the
phenomenon by supposing that an earthquake had produced
alterations in the ground. And yet the explanation was
not far to seek ! That stream had only a periodical existence,
depending on variations in the rainfall which, sometimes
abundant, sometimes slight, was carried up by clouds of the
south-west monsoon into the mountains.
Moorcroft thought he saw in the distance a stream
issuing from the western shore of Rakas-tal ; but, unfortun-
ately, an attack of fever prevented him from examining it
more closely. As regards this he must have relied on the
statements of the natives, for it is beyond doubt that the
channel from the Rakas-tal was dried up in the year 181 2.
ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 215
After Moorcroft had solved the problem of the lakes
and the mysterious river, as he supposed, he took his way
back through Daba and over the Niti pass ; and rejoiced
when he saw the first trees on the south side of the Hima-
layas. In Kumaon the strangers awakened suspicion by
clothing themselves again in European costume, and in
consequence of orders from Khatmandu, the capital of
Nepal, they were imprisoned with great brutality. Moor-
croft, however, by his courage and energetic conduct
succeeded after a time in regaining his freedom, and in
November 181 2 the whole expedition reached British terri-
tory in safety.
A singular fate seems to have pursued this, the first
Englishman to reach the holy lake. After his famous and
meritorious journey thither, he directed his eyes from the
shore yet farther into the heart of Asia, on to that world of
unknown mountains, which, since the time of Marco Polo
and Benedict Goes unknown and unvisited, form a partition
between the countries of India and the focus of the immense
empire once ruled by the iron hand of the victorious Timur.
In the year 1820 we find Moorcroft in Leh, but having
waited there for two years without finding an opportunity
of travelling northwards he returned to Kashmir and the
Punjab in order to make for Bukhara through Cabul and
by unknown roads. On his return thence he died of fever
at Andkhoi, on the 4th or 5th of August 1825, it was said,
but as his countryman Trebeck and his Asiatic fellow-
travellers all perished, there is every reason to suppose that
they were the victims of a hostile attack. It is the more
probable that such was the case because the expedition was
received with hostility by the people and princes in Timur's
country. Moorcroft was the first to die ; there is a letter
in Trebeck's handwriting still extant which confirms his
death.
It therefore excited no little astonishment when Father
Hue related in his noted work, Souvenirs d'nn voyage dans
la Tariarie, le Thibet et la Chine, which appeared in 1853,
that during his stay in Lhasa he was one day visited by
the chief of the Kashmirian merchants, who introduced to
him one of his subordinates named Risan, and told him
2i6 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
that the man had served Moorcroft for many years during
his sojourn in Lhasa.
Hue had never heard anything of Moorcroft, and now
he was assured on all sides that the English traveller had
arrived at the capital of the Dalai Lama in 1826. He had
come from Ladak, was dressed as a Mohammedan, and
spoke Persian only. He had hired a house and lived
in it twelve years with his servant Risan. Herds of yaks
and goats which he bought were tended by Tibetan herds-
men on the mountains, and under the pretence of keeping
an eye on them he had been able to wander about un-
molested in the mountainous regions, making notes and
drawing maps. After the twelve years had passed the
stranger had given Risan a letter, and told him that he
would make his fortune if he showed it in Calcutta. Then
he left Lhasa by the road to Ladak which passes by Mana-
sarowar, so excellently described by him. Near the lake
he was attacked by robbers and murdered.
By order of the Tibetan Government the robbers were
pursued and overpowered. The property of the dead man
was brought to Lhasa, and there the geographical maps,
the notes, and the instruments revealed that the supposed
Kashmiri was an Englishman.
Hue tried in vain to clear up the mystery, for after his
return to France he learned that in Ritter's Asiefz Moor-
croft's death in Bukhara in 1825 was announced. The
same statement was made in Professor Wilson's book on
Moorcroft published in 1841. Lieutenant Burnes on his
journey to Bukhara in 1832 had visited his grave.
Perceval Landon, correspondent of the Times with the
expedition of Younghusband to Lhasa, suggests that Moor-
croft's papers were carried after his death in Bukhara by
Kashmiris to Lhasa, and that their owner was afterwards
murdered or plundered at the holy lake on his journey
home. The supposed Moorcroft was, then, a man from
Kashmir. This is perhaps the true explanation. But Hue
spoke himself with the man who had served the stranger
for twelve years, and he justly asks what reason the
inhabitants of Lhasa, Tibetans and Kashmiris, could have
for imposing on him with such anecdotes. At any rate
ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 217
Moorcroft's fate is involved in darkness. According to
the former version he died alone in Bukhara in 1825,
according to the other he was killed in 1838 near Mana-
sarowar.
Among the names connected with Manasarowar, Moor-
croft occupies the first place. He, indeed, visited only
the western shore, but I have realized on the spot how
accurate and reliable his observations were. His country-
men have not always estimated him highly enough. Various
attempts have been made to explain on more or less prob-
able grounds why he did not see the river bed near Chiu-
gompa. It is, however, by no means extraordinary if this
bed is so sanded up as to be unrecognizable after the water
in the lake has stood for several years at a low level.
Moorcroft's omission was that, owing to fever, he did not
go a few hundred yards beyond the monastery Chiu-gompa ;
then the circumstances would have been clear at once. If
Harballabh and the Ladaki, whose words he could not
make up his mind to trust, had only led him to the bridge,
he would have admitted that abundant floods must at times
pass under its beams.
Three years after Moorcroft's journey to Manasarowar,
his countryman, James B. Eraser, reached the Jumnotri,
the source of the Jumna, and availed himself of the oppor-
tunity to gather information about the country in which
the Sutlej collects its first drops of water. The natives
could only inform him that the river came from a great
distance and had its source behind the Himalayan chain.
They knew nothing more definite. He himself believed
that the river was fed chiefly by melted snow from the
mountains, which lifted their white summits on all sides.
The narrative of this journey appeared two years after
Moorcroft's. But the author does not know the work of
his countryman, and seems hardly to have heard of the
first Englishman who crossed the vvestern Himalayas. Or
he would have said a word or two about the map printed
two years before, which shows Rakas-tal as the source of
the Sutlej.
In the years 181 7 and 1818 the brothers, Captain
Gerard and Doctor Gerard, travelled through the western
2i8 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Himalayas and made valuable contributions to our know-
ledge of those mountains. They did not, indeed, advance
as far as our lake, but they obtained information about it
from natives. Captain Gerard states :
I have seen more than one hundred people who have travelled
up the Sutluj, not exactly to its source, but to within ten or twelve
miles of it, to the place whence the road turns off to Mansurowur.
All the accounts agree that the largest stream issues from the
western corner of Rawun Rudd (Rakas-tal), or Langa, and, even
close to that lake, it is stated to be thirty feet broad and one-and-
a-quarter deep, in the dry season, and very rapid.
From this report we may conclude that the precipita-
tion increased from 1812 to 18 17, and then reached a
maximum which allowed both lakes to overflow. This
conclusion, however, is afterwards contradicted in Captain
Gerard's report, wherein it is said that the natives affirmed
most positively that theManasarowar had about twenty years
before sent out a stream westwards, which had to be crossed
by a bridge, but that it had subsequently failed. But the
monks living on the shore believed that the outflow still
continued, though by subterranean passages.
Especially interesting is Gerard's remark, that a river
flowing into Manasarowar on the east is known to the
natives as the Sutlej, and that it comes from the Gunchu-
tso. But here he misunderstood his informant, for the river
which comes from the direction of the Gunchu-tso is the
Samo-tsangpo, while that which must be regarded as the
uppermost course of the Sutlej is the Tage-tsangpo. The
Gunchu-tso has no outlet ; the lake is salt and it is scarcely
credible that it had an outlet to Manasarowar a hundred
years ago.
Another of the great pioneers in the western Hima-
layas was Captain J. D. Herbert, who travelled along the
Sutlej in 1819 and drew up a map of the part of the river
which lies in British territory. He was unable to advance
beyond the frontier village Shipki. Like the Gerard
brothers he was forced to turn back at the Tibetan
boundary. The suspicion of the authorities seems to
have been aroused after Moorcroft's visit ; even natives
were often refused permission to cross the frontier, for
XVIII ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 219
it was feared that they might be disguised Europeans.
Therefore Herbert could do nothing towards solving the
problem, but like the Gerard brothers had to content him-
self with questioning natives ; they informed him that a
connection existed between the two lakes during the rainy
season.
We often wonder at the absence of Moorcroft's name
in descriptions of Himalayan journeys of this period, though
he was the first authority on the country round the lakes.
We wonder why natives of more or less credibility were
subjected to a cross-examination when an Englishman had
shortly before given such an exact and detailed account of
the origin of the Sutlej and its upper course. It is the
same with Francis Hamilton, who set out in 18 14 and gave
to the world his excellent book An Account of the Kingdom
of Nepal in i8ig. He has included a quantity of contra-
dictory statements he received from a certain Hariballabh,
in whom we have every reason for recognizing Moorcroft's
old pundit Harballabh. The pundit affirmed that a river
flowed out of each of the lakes, and Hamilton considers
that this statement agrees on the whole with D'Anville's
map. Why did he not consult Moorcroft's map, which
was much newer and was the work of an Englishman }
During the thirty-four years which intervened between
Moorcroft's first journey and Henry Strachey's visit to
Manasarowar hardly any information on western Tibet
reached Europe. Students certainly spoke now and then
of the holy lake, and slight allusions were made to it in
geographical literature. Minkhul Khutuktu wrote his
description of Tibet, which, however, was not translated
into Russian until much later, and in which the courses of
the four famous rivers are fancifully drawn.
Meanwhile the discovery of the source of the Sutlej
gave rise to a dispute as to priority in the Journal
Asiatique. The great geographers Saint- Martin and
Klaproth believed that they could prove that Tieffenthaler
and Anquetil du Perron had solved the problem in 1784,
or twenty-eight years before Moorcroft's journey, and that
therefore the honour of the discovery was due to the
Germans and French and not to the English. It was
220 TRANS-HIMALAYA . chap.
clearly shown on Tieffenthaler's map, they maintained,
that Manasarovvar was the source of the Sutlej. " From
this lake flows the river Langtchou or Sutledj, which runs
westwards to cross the Langa lake, which the Hindus
call Ravanhrad. Accordingly, there exists a connection
between the two lakes, which Moorcroft has disputed
without reasons and proofs ; the farthest source of the
Sutledj is in the lake Manasarowar, and not in Ravanhrad."
Therefore, the two learned men think that it is time that
the credit of the discovery should be assigned to the
Germans and French, to whom it is justly due.
It is the old story, but remains ever new. Ritter had
already said that a single observation on the spot was
worth all the cheap hypotheses that can be manufactured
at home. Here we have on the one side sound unpre-
tentious personal observations, and on the other, theoretical
speculations of doubtful value. First of all, Kang Hi's
lama topographers long ago had surveyed the lakes,
and proved their close hydrographical connection with
a river which was the Sutlej, though they mistook it for
the Ganges. To them, then, belongs the honour of the
first discovery, though it was reserved for Moorcroft to
prove that the river was the Sutlej. It was reprehensible
that two men like Saint-Martin and Klaproth should put
the authority of their famous names in the scale against
Moorcroft, and throw a cloud over a discovery which was
worth a hundred times as much as all that Tieffenthaler
and Anquetil du Perron had written on Manasarowar.
Ritter alone defended Moorcroft as the " only eye-witness,"
and he expressed briefly the sharp-sighted suspicion that
the outflow of the lake might be periodical. He could
appreciate all the troubles and dangers to which the native
topographers were exposed and the risk Moorcroft ran in
travelling in disguise when he made his discoveries. How
easy and safe it was, on the other hand, for a man to sit at
his writing-table and in categorical statements hurl his
thunderbolts at the real discoverers who had seen lands,
rivers, and lakes, and cite against them authorities who
had never crossed the bounds of Tibet !
Lieutenant J. D. Cunningham, who wrote in 1844,
XVIII ENGLISHMEN AT THE LAKE 221
collected the most recent data concerning the lakes, and
supplemented them by reports he received himself from
natives. He arrived at the conclusion that, if a water
channel had ever connected the two lakes, it no longer
existed, and that no stream still flowed out of Rakas-tal.
Shortly after, in the autumn of 1846, Henry Strachey
accomplished his well-known journey to the frequently
discussed lake district, turning his steps first to Rakas-tal,
which was less known, and which seemed to him more
interesting, because the Sutlej ran out of its north-western
corner. His examination convinced him that no visible
watercourse left the lake, and that the only outlet he could
find was through the permeable ground. But he did not
deny that abundant precipitation might raise the surface of
the lakes to such a degree that the surplus water might flow
away through the bed still visible in the north-west. He
also puts the question whether the Darma-yankti, a tributary
coming from the south and joining the Sutlej of Tirtapuri,
may not be the true source of the Sutlej. The decision,
however, he left for exact measurements. Undoubtedly
the Darma-yankti carries at certain times more water than
the branch of Tirtapuri. But if we are to move the source
from one point to another according to the volume of
either stream, we may as well give up the problem as
insolvable. Reckoned from the source of the Tage-tsangpo
the Tirtapuri branch is the longest. But the decisive
point of view is that of the Tibetans and Chinese, that the
two lakes lie on the Sutlej source stream like pearls on a
string. When Rakas-tal is finally cut ofl" from the Sutlej,
and its water begins to turn salt, then must the two lakes
be regarded as an isolated hydrographic system.
Then follows the surprising discovery which Strachey
made on October 5 when he had left the north-eastern
bight of Rakas-tal behind him and was marching eastward.
Only a mile from the lake shore he came across "a large
stream 100 feet wide and 3 deep, running rapidly .from
east to west through a well-defined channel ; this was the
outlet of Manasarowar."
Thereby Henry Strachey proved that the account given
by Kang Hi's lamas was correct. Only Moorcroft could
222 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xvm
have seen the channel, and again a shadow of doubt was
cast upon his efforts. Strachey endeavours to explain the
matter by supposing that the discharged water broke
through a shore bank of sand and gravel and was hidden
by it, and that it did not collect into a stream until it
emerged on the other side of this bank. For otherwise
Moorcroft must have noticed it.
Yet never did the essence of the problem stand out so
clearly as now. Some years the channel contained water,
in others it was dry. Its water was therefore a periodical
appearance, and Moorcroft had made his observations as
surely as the envoys of Kang Hi, or as Henry Strachey,
though he visited these regions at a time when the
monsoon rains were scanty and caused a low level of water
in the lakes.
Two years later, in the autumn of 1848, Henry
Strachey's brother Richard succeeded in making his way
to the forbidden lakes. He passed along the southern
shore of Rakas-tal and marched northwards on the isthmus
between this lake and Manasarowar until he reached a rise
near Chiu-gompa, from which he looked down on the
stream which connected Manasarowar with Rakas-tal.
Then also the eastern lake had an outlet to its western
neighbour.
CHAPTER XIX
THE LATEST REPORTS
During the twenty years which passed between the
journeys of the Strachey brothers and the departure of
Montgomerie's pundits, we search in vain for any valuable
information about the disputed country which the inacces-
sible walls of the Himalayas so effectually protected. I find
only that a Mr. Drummond, Commissioner of Bareilly,
sailed in a boat on the holy lake in the year 1855, or
according to other accounts in i860, but I have obtained
no information as to what his aim was on this journey, or
what he accomplished.
In his classic account of Ladak Sir Alexander Cunning-
ham relies on the experiences of the brothers Strachey, and
rightly says that the true sources of the Sutlej must be
sought among the streams which flow into Manasarowar
from the east. It is remarkable that then no European
had visited the eastern shore and that nothing was known
of the waters that debouched there. The source of the
Indus, on the other hand, he misplaced into a quite
absurd spot, believing that Moorcroft had discovered
it and had seen the water of the Indus flow north-
westwards past Gartok to Ladak. He knows nothing
of the north-eastern arm which descends from the true
source.
The legend of the four beasts' mouths, from which the
famous rivers rise, is, according to Cunningham, of Indian
origin. The Tibetans could not know of the elephant and
peacock except from there. And the Tsangpo, the river
of the horse's mouth, is so named in honour of Buddha's
223
224 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
steed. The name Singi-kamba, the Indus, refers rather to
the tiger than the Hon.
On their long and meritorious journeys through the
western Himalayas during the years 1855 to 1857, the
Schlagintweit brothers did not succeed in advancing to
our lakes. They had, like Cunningham, to content them-
selves with quoting Strachey, and spoke therefore of a
river which connected the two lakes throughout the year.
There is also no lack of apochryphal accounts. In
June 1865 Captain H. R. Smith and A. S. Harrison reached
the village Darchen at the southern foot of Kailas, and also
marched along the northern shores of both lakes. They
traversed the mountains for sport, and not much can be
expected from their powers of observation. It would have
been wiser, therefore, if Captain Smith had forborne to
criticize the Strachey brothers, the most thorough and
reliable explorers who had then travelled in Tibet. Smith
actually asserts that it is a physical impossibility that water
should flow to the Sutlej from one or both of the lakes, for
in that case it would have to flow up a steep hill. He also
disputes the existence of any trace of an old river bed.
Every native he questioned confirmed his own observations,
and, besides, he had found the circumstances so easily
comprehensible that all inquiries were superfluous. At
the meeting of the London Geographical Society, when
the Captain gave an account of his astonishing discoveries
in the Himalayas, the Himalayan explorer Dr. Thomson
was present, and he effectively defended the honour of the
brothers Strachey.
Captain A. Bennett advanced the same year to Daba,
and added his contribution to the solution of the problem
in the naive and superficial opinion on the sources of the
Sutlej and Indus that both rivers rise here, the former in
some lakes, the latter in the hills behind them.
At the same time as the last-mentioned, Thomas W.
Webber and three other Englishmen travelled to the
country south-east of the holy lake to hunt there. Webber
describes the journey in a book which appeared in 1902,
nearly forty years after the journey. Therein he reports
the curious discoveries made by himself and his companions,
THE LATEST REPORTS 225
discoveries which quite overthrew all that Moorcroft, the
brothers Strachey, and the pundits had achieved. The
pundits certainly travelled two years after Webber, whose
book takes no notice of their experiences.
Webber beHeved himself to be in the higher regions of
the Brahmaputra when a very surprising change of scene
occurred :
On another occasion we crossed another very lofty divide, and
found ourselves suddenly out on the northern slopes of another
watershed, none other than that of the mighty Indus. Far beneath
us, some miles away, lay the most brilliantly beautiful blue sea, the
celebrated Manasarowar lake, as it proved, which we had promised
not to approach.
It is hopeless to try to reduce this confusion to order.
They stand on a watershed between the Brahmaputra and
Indus and see Manasarowar a mile in front of them ! On
a map, which I have reproduced at the end of Vol. I.,
Webber has placed the source of the Indus south of Mana-
sarowar and the source of the Ganges on the southern
flank of Gurla Mandatta. On the east side of the same
mountain rises the Brahmaputra. It is inconceivable how
such a map could have been printed in England and in the
year 1902. Kang Hi's lamas confused the Sutlej with
the Ganges, and that was pardonable. And so it was in
Desideri's case. But the source of the Ganges had been
known for nearly a hundred years in 1902, and for as long
a time it was known that the stream flowing out of the lakes
was the Sutlej, and not the Indus. When Webber's book
appeared all these facts were known, but he has erased
them with one stroke of the pen. Of Gurla Mandatta he
says : " This conspicuous mountain might appropriately be
called the Peak of Asia, as from its glaciers the three great
rivers, Indus, Ganges, and Brahmaputra, take their rise."
The Ganges and the Brahmaputra have nothing what-
ever to do with Gurla. The source of the Indus lies to the
north, beyond the Trans-Himalaya. The Sutlej is certainly
an afliuent of the Indus, but its sources do not lie on the
slopes of Gurla. The whole account is a romance —
a phantom picture from the time of the Jesuits and
Capuchins.
Q
226 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
On his noted journey in the years 1885 and 1886 along
the Tsangpo, the upper Brahmaputra, Nain Sing passed
both lakes on the northern side. Montgomerie, who sent
him out, led astray by Nain Sing's route, thought that the
position of the Brahmaputra's source might be fixed in the
mountains to the east of the lakes. It is, then, astonishing
to hear two such famous presidents of the London Geo-
graphical Society as Murchisonand Rawlinson say that the
pundits returned along the bank of the Brahmaputra to the
source of this river in Manasarowar. This was really to
return to Father Tieffenthaler's view, and to ignore one of
the most important watersheds in all Asia.
We have a reliable statement from the year 1868 by
one of Montgomerie's pundits, who walked round Mana-
sarowar without finding any outlet. But it is added that
" at one point on the west the ground near the Ju monas-
tery was low and looked as if water had perhaps at one
time flowed through towards the Rakas-tal lake, though it
is now too much above the lake to admit of it." Twenty
years earlier, when the brothers Strachey visited the lake,
water was still flowing out. Now the channel was dry.
There is, then, a periodical depression, a fall in the curve.
Spirits dwell in the sacred mountains of Tibet, and it
almost seems as if the Europeans who wandered along the
foot of the steep rocky cliff's were blinded and stupefied by
the magic power of the spirits and forgot to solve the
problems for the sake of which they made such great efforts.
Such was the case with the Nien-chen-tang-la, which
several Europeans saw, and yet always remained a gigantic
mark of inquiry on the shore of its holy lake.
A similar enchantment has bewitched Manasarowar and
Rakas-tal. Now there are four great rivers, which, each
on its side, draw water from this inexhaustible reservoir,
now it is the Ganges which rises there, then again the
Indus, the Sutlej, the Map-chu, and the Brahmaputra, which
are accused of exacting toll from the beneficent waves of
the lake. And then dim rumours crop up that it is a
physical impossibility that a single drop of water can escape
from the margin of the lake basin.
Yet in the year 1891 Colonel Tanner, who knew the
XIX THE LATEST REPORTS 227
Himalayas thoroughly, wrote: "I here remark that the
moot question as to whether the Satlaj actually comes from
the Mansorawar lake or not, does not appear to have been
definitely settled."
The extraordinary Munchhausen romance which an
English newspaper writer named Landor narrated, and
which quite set aside all the conscientious reliable descrip-
tions of Moorcroft, Strachey, and the pundits, had no effect
whatever. Among the uncritical, sensation-loving public
Landor had a certain temporary success ; but among
geographers, especially in London, he was received with
justifiable suspicion.
The Japanese priest, Ekai Kawaguchi, who travelled
through India and Tibet in the years 1897 to 1903, caused
less sensation. He makes some very valuable observa-
tions, but also commits some dreadful mistakes. He has
no high opinion of the sharp-sightedness of Europeans.
He himself is honest and ingenuous, and does his best
to find out the truth. His mission was not geographical;
he wished only to study religious literature and compare
the Chinese translation of the Buddhist books with the
Tibetan.
From Khatmandu and Muktinath Kawaguchi pro-
ceeded to Tibet, crossed the streams which form the
Tsangpo, and travelled in a north-westerly direction to
Manasarowar. He drew no maps, and his compass bear-
ings are often absurd. Consequently, one is frequently
uncertain which rivers and mountains he really refers to.
But when he follows a river for four miles and then sees it
debouch into the south-eastern part of Manasarowar, this
can only be the Tage-tsangpo. He calls the source of this
river the " Chumik Ganga, or the source of the Ganges,"
and he adds : " I took a deep drink of the holy water."
Of this and another spring he says : " Hindus and Tibetans
consider these two sources to be the origin of the sacred
Ganges, and regard them with religious awe."
Here, then, the Ganges again crops up among our
lakes. Nevertheless, Kawaguchi's narrative possesses a
certain interest. His two springs are probably identical
with those I passed on the course of the Tage-tsangpo, as
228 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
I have mentioned in Vol. II. p. 105. He calls the first
Chumik Ganga ; Chumik is Tibetan, and signifies spring,
while Ganga is the Indian name of the Ganges. When I
asked the name of the spring I was told that the brook is
the Langchen-kamba or the Sutlej river ; the Langchen-
kabab, the source of the Sutlej, lies a little farther south-
east. But the channel between Manasarowar and Rakas-tal
was named to me the Ganga. This appears to imply that
the connecting channel is regarded as a continuation of
the Tage-tsangpo, a view which is quite correct, and agrees
both with D'Anville's map and the Chinese description in
the work The Elements of Hydrography. Kawaguchi is a
Buddhist priest, and perhaps religious dogmas obscured
his judgment. It is not easy to sound the soul of a
Buddhist priest. It is credible that his informant saw in
the Sutlej a tributary of the Ganges, and that consequently,
in his opinion, the source of the Sutlej might be described
as that of the Ganges. But such speculations are un-
necessary, for a little later in his narrative Kawaguchi
himself declares that the Gogra, Sutlej, Indus, and Brahma-
putra are all said to flow out of the lake, leaving out the
Ganges, though it was the only river of which he had
drunk water at the holy source. He adds, quite correctly,
that the origins of these four rivers must be sought for in
the neighbouring mountains and not in the lake. And he
says that only " the source of the Brahmaputra has hitherto
defied exploration." In reality he had no notion where the
sources of these rivers are. Who could expect a Buddhist
pilgrim to be acquainted with the geographical literature
of Europe ?
Kawaguchi, with the greatest assurance, gives the
circumference of Manasarowar as 200 miles, though
actually it is only 45. He also boldly finds fault with the
form given by Europeans to the lake on maps, and ascer-
tained himself that its outline was that of a lotus. Ad
maiorevi Dei gloriani !
In connection with the water communication he made
a still more remarkable discovery. He walked out from
Tugu-gompa on to the isthmus, and from its hills he could
overlook Rakas-tal.
THE LATEST REPORTS 229
A mountain of about two and a half miles in circumference rises
like a partition between the two lakes, and where this mountain
dips down to a trough it seems as though there was there a con-
necting channel between the two lakes. I found, however, that no
such channel really exists, but instead I discovered that Rakas-tal
lies higher than Manasarowar. I was afterwards told that the
waters of the two lakes really mingle every ten to fifteen years,
after extraordinarily violent deluges of rain, and that on those
occasions Rakas-tal discharges its water into Manasarowar. Hence
arises the Tibetan saying that the bridegroom Rakas-tal visits the
bride Manasarowar every fifteen years.
Here we have in addition to all the former absurdities
the statement that the water flows backwards. For the
surface of Rakas-tal lies about 40 feet lower than Mana-
sarowar. Such a mistake Kawaguchi ought not to have
committed, for when he afterwards crossed the Sutlej,
which he calls the Langchen Khanbab, he says : " My
companion told me unasked that this river comes from
Manasarowar." Poor as the narrative of the Japanese
priest is in geographical matters, it is still interesting read-
ing. He recounts the smallest details of his adventures,
and all the little dangers to which he was exposed. As
the noble Sakya-muni triumphed over the tempter at
Buddh Gaya, so Kawaguchi turned a deaf ear to the
fervid declarations of love with which Dava, a child
of Manasarowar, nineteen years old, assailed him ; a
maid of the wilderness who tried to allure him with
the hundred yaks and four hundred sheep of her father.
" I could not help pitying this innocent little creature,"
he says chivalrously; "pretty she was not, but not
ugly ; she was a smart little figure. . . . Dava of course
could not compare with the daughters of the archfiend in
attractiveness ; but she could weep and implore just as
well as they." Kawaguchi, however, was adamant, and
did not forget the vow which binds the priests of Buddha.
So Dava's dream came to nothing ; she was never to
exchange the snow-clad summit of Siva's mountain for a
sight of the peak of Fuji-yama, the sacred mountain of the
Japanese.
Kawaguchi performed the circuit of Kailas, prescribed
to pilgrims. Among the troop of pilgrims he made the
230 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
acquaintance of a robber from Kham, who accompanied
his steps with the following lamentations :
O holy Kang-rinpoche ! O great Sakya-muni ! O all Buddhas
and Bodhisattvas at the ten corners of the world and in all ages
that were and are and are to come ! I have been a wicked man,
I have murdered several people. I have stolen all sorts of things
that did not belong to me. I have carried off wives from their
husbands. I have again and again stirred up strife and have beaten
people cruelly. All these great sins I now repent of and now do
solemn penance for them on this mountain. By this act of confes-
sion and repentance I believe that I shall escape the penalty of
those sins. I also perform this penance for my future sins, for it
may be that I shall again commit sin, and that I shall rob men of
their goods, carry off their wives, beat them to death or thrash
them.
But we cannot accompany Kawaguchi on his farther
wanderings through Tibet. From every page of his book
a puff comes to us of the pure, unadulterated Asia, where
everything — even the huge mountains and the turquoise-
blue lakes — is involved in a network of religious precon-
ceptions and legends, and where the image of the noble
Sakya-muni, serene and drearny, seems ever to hover
before the eyes of the wanderer and conceal from him the
world of reality.
What does the lately deceased English missionary,
Graham Sandberg, say of the regions which have now so
long occupied our thoughts ? He was never in Tibet him-
self, but he made this country the object of a thorough
study, and in 1904 published a valuable work upon it. He
gives an account of the history of exploration since 1623,
and arrives at the conclusion : " The sources of the shortest
great river rising in and flowing out of Tibet, the Sutlej,
are not to this day absolutely known." He continues :
" It is still a subject of mystery and speculation where so
familiar a river as the Indus takes actually rise." Three
years later these questions were no longer a riddle ; but
by that time the missionary had gone where we must all
go some time.
In his Handbook of Tibet, which also appeared in the
year 1904, the well-known Asiatic explorer, Sir Thomas
Holdich, remarks: "The Indus rises on the slopes of
XIX THE LATEST REPORTS 231
Kailas, the sacred mountain, the Elysium or Siva's paradise
of ancient Sanskrit literature." This was also the opinion
of Desideri two hundred years earlier. Holdich places the
source of the Sutlej on the southern flank of Kailas. Now
we know that the Indus starts from the country on the
northern side of the Trans- Himalaya, and that the Sutlej
springs from the northern flank of the Himalayas.
Major Ryder and Captain Rawling marched along both
lakes in the end of November 1904, that is, precisely at the
same season as Father Desideri in 1715. The ice-blocks
which choked up the channel between the two lakes came,
it was discovered, from springs in the bed, and the surface
of Manasarowar lay 2 feet below the highest point of the
bed. But the monks of the Chiu-gompa declared that some
water flowed out of the holy lake every year in late summer.
Such an outflow had not occurred from Rakas-tal for fifty
or sixty years.
Rawling is near the true solution when he says that the
question is still open, whether one of the brooks entering
Manasarowar from the east should not be held to be the
source of the Sutlej. But he does not follow up this theory,
and, like Ryder, he excludes the lakes entirely from the
river system of the Sutlej, leaving the determination of the
actual site of the source to future explorers.
The decisive words were spoken in the year 1907, just
at the time when I was in southern Tibet, by Colonel
Burrard, who proved quite conclusively that both lakes then
belonged to the Sutlej system, even if they sent out an
insignificant brook to the bed of the river only once in a
hundred years (see Vol. H. p. 187).
We have now only to refer to the last visitor to the
lakes before my journey, Mr. Charles Sherring, who made
the circuit of them in 1905. He makes the Indus rise in
the Kailas range, which in itself is an indefinite statement.
The Brahmaputra he brings down from the Marium-la, or
the country lying in the immediate neighbourhood of this
pass, which is not according to the facts. On the source
of the Sutlej he can only say that Moorcroft saw it, and
that it now lies near Dolchu-gompa. He gives an excellent
photographic panorama of the channel between the two
232 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
lakes, and says that from this picture any one can decide
whether there is a connection and how it is formed. He
is quite right. Even in 1904 and 1905 photographic views
were necessary to convince certain doubters of the exist-
ence of a channel which the Chinese knew of two hundred
years ago.
In 1905 no water passed through the channel, but
Sherring heard that there was an outflow after heavy rains.
We are now at the last pulsation in these much-discussed
waterways. I have already given an account of my own
observations in the second volume of this book. There I
have told that the lakes were in 1907 cut off from each
other, and also from a connection with the Sutlej, unless
there were a subterranean outlet to this river. This year
was unusually dry even in the rainy season — August and
September — and only twice did light showers fall on the
highlands. The nomads generally complained of the
drought; the pastures were yellow, the grass was poor, and
it was expected that the famished flocks of sheep, which
had suffered from scanty fodder during the warm season,
would not have enough stamina to get through the following
winter.
Many beds and ditches were quite dried up. The
twelve beds carrying water which debouched into Mana-
sarowar, and which I measured, discharged 10 10 cubic feet
of water per second, or 88 million cubic feet in the day.
And yet it was not nearly sufficient to compensate for the
loss by evaporation. The surface of Manasarowar stood
7.4 feet below the top of the sill of the bed near Chiu-
gompa. Three years before Ryder had found there a
difference of level of only 2 feet. It was plainly evident
that only heavy deluges of rain could raise the surface of
the lake to such a height that water could pour into the
channel past the monastery.
In the summer of 1908, when I visited Manasarowar
the second time, no change had occurred. Yet during the
rainy season of this year the south-west monsoon did its
duty thoroughly. Often the rain poured down in torrents
during my march along the Sutlej valley. It may be safely
assumed that the twelve larger streams and the innumer-
THE LATEST REPORTS 233
able small rivulets, which collect into Manasarowar, then
brought to the lake ten times as much water as in 1907.
Just as certain is it that the lake level was rising slowly
but steadily.
I suspected that the period of drought was over, and
that another, characterized by more abundant precipitation,
would follow. But how was I to learn whether I was right
or not ?
Then I remembered my friend Gulam Razul, the rich
merchant in Leh, who sends caravans annually from that
town to Lhasa. He was a clever, educated man, and had
helped me before. I wrote to him asking him to inquire
what the rainy seasons had been like in the last years, and
whether water had flowed out of the eastern lake into the
western, and out of the western into the Sutlej.
In a letter dated Leh, June 12, 191 1, he informed me
that a very large quantity of rain fell in the autumn of 1909,
and that the rainy season of 1910 lasted nearly three
months, with far more plentiful precipitation than in the
previous year. All the watercourses were filled, and a
roaring stream was in the bed near Chiu-gompa. The
water poured into Rakas-tal. Thus one link in the broken
chain had been inserted. The other link, the outflow from
Rakas-tal to the Sutlej, had not, however, been renewed.
Thakur Jai Chand, the agent of the Indian Government at
Gartok, confirmed, I should like to add, Gulam Razul's
statements.
It is clear that only after several successive seasons of
heavy rainfall does the lower lake rise high enough to over-
flow into the river bed.
It would take us too far afield were I to enter here into
all the interesting questions connected with this hydro-
graphical problem, such as the advance and retreat of
glaciers, the rainfall at the meteorological stations of the
western Himalayas, the famine years in India, etc. I only
wish to show that the apparently contradictory statements
of different travellers may be explained by the periodical
variations which cause the lakes to overflow at times, and
then again to be cut off from the Sutlej.
All reports from the years before 1904 speak of an
234 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
outflow from Manasarowar. In 1812 and 181 6 the lake
was isolated; in 181 7 to 18 19 it discharged water; in
1843 it appears to have been cut off; from 1865 to 1900
there are only three reports of any value, and these all
speak of the isolation of the lake, but notwithstanding it is
quite possible that the lake may have overflowed occasion-
ally, though no one happened to be there to confirm the
fact. In the year 1904 the bed may have carried water,
but from 1905 to 1908 it lay dry. In the year 1909 began
a new period of discharge.
The lower lake had certainly an outflow in the years
1 715 and 1762 to the Sutlej. We have no reliable data
for later years. It seems probable that the lake has been
isolated for nearly a century, and the statements of Tibetans
to the contrary are too contradictory. This much is
certain, that the periods relating to Rakas-tal are of greater
length than those of the oscillations of Manasarowar. The
former extend to a century, perhaps two, but the latter last
only a few years. Thus we find that in the interval during
which Rakas-tal has been cut off from the Sutlej, Mana-
sarowar has had five periods of discharge and as many
without.
The two lakes therefore act as the most delicate and
sensitive instruments under the influence of wind and
weather. No apparatus designed by man could indicate
more exactly the sway of the south-west monsoon over the
country between the lofty mountains, and no rain-gauges,
however closely they might be installed, could give a
clearer and more homogeneous notion of its relation to the
surface water flowing off through the bed of the Sutlej.
It is a pity that it is so seldom that any one has taken the
trouble of going up there to read off this excellent record
of the rainfall.
As the periodical variations of the discharge of Mana-
sarowar are still in progress, there is nothing to prevent
the same phenomenon occurring in the case of Rakas-tal
in the future. At present this lake is at a downward
section of the curve, or the absolute height of the surface
is, perhaps, at a stationary minimum. But this curve may
bend up again, and, finally, the surplus water may pour
XIX THE LATEST REPORTS
235
once more into the Sutlej as in the days when Kang Hi's
topographers drew up a map of southern Tibet.
The water of Manasarowar is sweet Hke river water, as
is to be expected seeing that the lake has an outlet, though
only periodically. The flavour of the water should not be
tasted at the shore, for there decayed fucus and algse are
packed together into brown or black clumps. One of the
European visitors to the holy lake thought he perceived a
disagreeable after-taste in the water, but if he had had an
opportunity of rowing out far enough from the shore in a
boat, he would readily have admitted that no better drink-
ing-water can be drawn from any glacier lake.
Rakas-tal, which lost its superficial outlet perhaps a
hundred years ago, is, nevertheless, as sweet as its neigh-
bour, whence it may be inferred that its water is renewed
constantly by a subterranean inflow. Until the water of
the lake acquires a decided briny taste, we cannot affirm
that it is cut off from the Sutlej system.
The extraordinarily dry summer of the year 1907 was
very favourable for river measurements. No local torrents
of rain caused particular streams to swell. All were
quietly and regularly fed under similar conditions. Of the
loio cubic feet of water which flowed per second into
Manasarowar 397 were discharged by the Tage-tsangpo.
The next largest brook, which descends from Gurla
Mandatta, carried only 100 feet, or a quarter of the
volume of the Tage-tsangpo. It is, therefore, easy to
decide which of the two should be called the headwater of
the Sutlej. Chinese and Tibetans say that it is the Tage-
tsangpo, and they are quite right.
In his delightful article on the far too meagre and
superficial notes on religious history contained in the first
two volumes of this book. Baron Anton von Ow exclaims
on the Manasarowar of the Hindus and the Tso-mavang of
the Tibetans :
Here on the most remarkable heights of the globe we have
actually before us the lake which was celebrated thousands of
years ago as the mythical lake of Haoma and Siva ; here we have
the mythical Pushkara, the lotus pool from which Brahma rose-
here the Chin lake of the Chinese myth, in the midst of which the
divine Buddha child reposes on a bed of lotus blossoms !
2-.6 TRANS-HIMALAYA
■0
Celebrated in grand hymns by the poets of remote
antiquity, a dweUing-place of mighty gods, a mirror beneath
the paradise of Brahma and the heaven of Siva, the goal
of innumerable yearning pilgrims, a refuge of the royal
swans of romance, the wild geese of reality, the most
wondrous lake on earth lies dreaming among the snow-clad
summits of lofty mountains. Manasarowar is not dead like
the thousand salt lakes of Tibet. It sleeps only on calm
nights, when the silence of death hovers over its bright
mirror and the silvery wake of the moon quivers behind
the boat of the stranger. But it lives and breathes when
the storm sweeps with raging fury over its liquid expanse
and raises emerald-green crystal billows on its bosom, and
when the surf beats heavily and monotonously against the
shore. It opens wide its arms to receive the foaming
brook which dashes down from Gurla, glistening like gold
in the sun as soon as its water emerges from the shadow
of the mantle of clouds and from the granite ravine. One
seems to hear the pulse of the lake-god beat when the
water escapes at times through the veins of the Ganga
channel. One seems to hear the morning prayer of the
lake when the copper trombones sound on the temple
roofs, and the pilgrims of Buddha murmur their never-
ending " Om mani padme hum."
In lights and shadows, in colour and illumination,
in moods that change from hour to hour and season to
season, in charming views and fascinating perspectives,
Manasarowar is the most beautiful of the lakes of Tibet.
Once when I had pitched my camp on the western shore,
I perceived the threatening calm after a windy day which
is the forerunner of a storm. To the north the sky was
dark, heavy bluish-purple clouds passed over the heights.
The knobs of the Fundi mountain stood out black against
the first bluish-grey fringes, the heralds of the storm-clouds.
The foot of the mountains had a brick-red hue which con-
trasted strongly with the malachite-green water. Shortly
after the hurricane broke, the lake boiled up into white
foaming waves. Far away to the east its tumultuous
surface was as green as laurel and syringa, but towards
the western shore the tones grew lighter, and near this
THE LATEST REPORTS 237
margin the water glittered in the green colour of the
birch s spring foliage. The calm lagoons, sheltered by
banks of mud from the onset of the waves, were tinted
bluish-violet by the reflexion of the storm-clouds in the
colourless waves. (See the coloured picture facing p. 152,
Bewitching and romantically beautiful is the scene
displayed westwards in the evening hour. The sun has
just set, but its streaks of yellow gold still linger, a dazzling
sheaf of rays, on the edge of the horizon. The whole sky
is vividly yellow and the lake looks like liquid amber.
After a time the western sky flares up in ruddy hues, a
sharp background to the pitchy black mountains. The
steel-grey summit of Kailas rises in its eternal majesty to
the north, and soon the new night spreads its shadows over
its firn-fields.
But the scene is finest in the morning, when the sun
begins his triumphal course over the earth, first clothing
the summits in purple flames and then pouring his gold
over the eternal lake and its holy mountains.
The sight of the lake makes the stranger involuntarily
meditative. His thoughts are not disturbed by the
nomads who inhabit the country with their black tents and
white flocks, nor by the monks who are for ever turning
their prayer-mills. This lake is itself a huge prayer-mill,
as it were, a ring of pious pilgrims revolving round its axis.
As far back as traditions and legends carry us, Manasarowar
has attracted the aspirations of men and their prayers. On
its banks we tread on ground which was already classic
when Rome was founded. Here legends and fairy tales
whisper round the clifTs and precipices, and here Siva
swims in the form of a swan by the foot of the mountain
of the gods.
Therefore is the Sutlej also so important among the
rivers of the land of lamas. Now and then he reposes in
the arms of the holy lake, as though he would there forget
the furious combats that await him on his long way to the
coast. But when the hours of rest are over, which in their
brevity and transitoriness are like geological seconds, then
the newborn river gathers up its strength and breaks
238 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xix
through the isthmus. If his strength is great enough he
also bursts the fetters in which Rakas-tal confines him.
Unlike the Indus and Brahmaputra his youth is short,
being marked by the parallel ranges of the Himalayas and
the aeolian basin in Hundes. Already at Shipki begins his
ripe age, the time of roaring stormy labour, when the river
with irresistible energy cuts his way through the Himalayas.
Wearied and silent, majestically calm and dignified, he
emerges from the mountains to traverse the Punjab ; this
is the time of old age. At last he joins his fortunes with
the Indus. Turbid and weighted with the soil of India,
the dying streams glide gently and quietly into the desolate
ocean which encircles the globe with its waters.
CHAPTER XX
A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ
The gates of Indra's heaven stood open and the monsoon
rains poured down. How the Sutlej would swell up when
the ground was soaked and the rain-water could find a way
Straight down to the rivers ! At Tirtapuri, however, it
was still possible to cross the river. A yak caravan from
Gyanima had encamped on the left bank. The drivers
began to unload the animals ; evidently they meant to
defy the river, lest they should be compelled by continuous
rain to make a long detour past Dolchu-gompa.
Immediately above the monastery the river bed is
rather broad. Two drivers mounted their most powerful
yaks and plunged into the rushing waves. The baggage
yaks were driven in a compact black mass into the river
and guided by whistling, shouting drivers. Only the heads,
of the yaks, the riders and the loads were visible above
the water. The animals did their work capitally. They
were strong, sure-footed, and never lost their hold, how-
ever much the current endeavoured to carry them away.
Dripping like sponges the yaks clambered up on to our
bank and then stalked on.
I decided to dismiss half my men at Tirtapuri. The
men who had been the nucleus of the caravan during the
severe winter — Lobsang, Galam, Kutus, Tubges, Suen,
and Kunchuk — should accompany me to Simla; Abdul
Kerim and the other five should return to Ladak through
Misser and Gartok. As usual they submitted to their
fate without a murmur. They received their pay, and I
gave them in addition a liberal gratuity; an extra sum
239
240 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
for new clothes, and their travelling expenses were also
counted out to them. After this severe bleeding I had
only 650 rupees left, and therefore had to be careful
afterwards.
Before the sun rose on August 2 I thanked my return-
ing men for the last time for their faithful service and bade
them farewell. They had only two hours' journey to
Misser, so Kutus and Suen were allowed to accompany
them and transport their belongings on our own mules.
In Misser the authorities were unfriendly at first, but
when they knew for certain that I was not with the men
they allowed them to hire the yaks they needed.
In the course of the afternoon our much-diminished
caravan was made ready. As though to make up for the
loss of our men, a young lama came down from the con-
vent and offered to act as guide on the way to Kyung-
lung. He was received as a rescuing angel, and our tramp
with the wealed back received his dismissal and also ten
rupees ; he thought himself rich. With bundles on their
backs and staves in their hands five poor pilgrims came up
and reminded us of our duty to pay toll to all those who
are on a pilgrimage.
Curious creatures ! They wander about by the year
together, living entirely on alms. They pass their nights
in monastery courtyards in the company of the half-wild
sacred dogs, or in the antechambers of the temples under
the protection of the spirit kings. Where there are neither
tents nor sanctuaries, they seek a lodging in caves and
clefts, and light their evening fires with flint, steel, and
tinder. They are a terrible burden to the nomads living
on the highroads, for who can have the heart to cruelly
turn away a man on his way to or from a holy place ?
Below Tirtapuri the valley expands considerably. Our
path runs north-west along the foot of the lowest erosion
terrace, over fresh juicy meadows here and there inter-
rupted by spots which have been flooded, and where the
clayey mud is still shiny with moisture. The river prefers
the left side of the valley ; on its slopes are seen four
sharply marked terraces like the seats in a circus. Another
tributary rushes down from the north - east ; its name is
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 241
Misser-chu, its sources lie among the recesses of the
southern flank of the Trans-Himalaya, and its volume is
now 565 cubic feet a second. In the rain-mist one can
only imagine the lofty regions among the snow-clad crests
whence this watercourse descends.
We passed the night on the pasture-land Gerik-yung,
where the height was 1 3,830 feet. The rain pelted drearily
on to my tent and all the streams swelled up still more.
Next morning a small yak caravan passed by.
" Where are you travelling to? " we asked.
" To Totling-gompa with tea."
" Have you tsamba or any other edibles to sell } " we
inquired, for we were living from hand to mouth and had
no stores left.
" No," the yak men replied, " only tea, and that is not
for sale, for it is intended for the use of the monastery."
" Well, be off, then."
A shrill whistle, and the yaks trip down to the gloomy
portal of the narrow ravine to which the Sutlej valley now
contracts.
Samtang Rangdol, the young lama of Tirtapuri, rides
on a yak beside me that he may be always at hand to give
me information.
"What is this place called?" I ask at the first pro-
montory round which the path winds.
" Palgye-pugu," he answers ; " up above on the top
are the remains of old ramparts ; once a royal mansion
stood there, named Kardong."
" Now tell me the name of this side valley."
" We call it Chornak ; it comes down from the Jarko-la
pass over which the tasam runs."
The Jarko-la is an important pass, for it is on the
watershed between the Indus and the Sutlej. Ryder and
Rawling crossed it in December 1904. Now the brook in
the valley carried 388 cubic feet of water as black as if
it had flowed through vegetable soil or coal. Exactly
opposite, on the left side, the Sutlej receives a large
affluent, the Haltshor-chu, which descends from the hills
round the high plateau of Gyanima. Samtang Rangdol
affirmed that this river had as large a volume of water as
R
242 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the Sutlej itself, and therefore was held by some to be the
present headwater of the Sutlej. But in a previous chapter
I have shown that the Haltshor must be relegated to the
position of a tributary. The volume of the Sutlej below
its confluence with the Haltshor may be estimated at 6350
cubic feet per second, or twice that of the Brahmaputra at
Tuksum at the beginning of July the year before. But in
the year 1907 there was hardly any rain, and hence the
great difference.
We waded through the broad but shallow Chornak-
chu, and saw at the foot of the next projection ten ruined
chhortens which had been erected, Samtang Rangdol told
me, by Pembos, the schismatics who used to come hither
in former times to worship an image somewhere in the
surrounding mountains, but as their rites caused annoy-
ance at the orthodox Tirtapuri, this pilgrimage was for-
bidden.
Here, too, the Sutlej rushes furiously along the left
side of the valley. But the expansions have now come to
an end and the river cuts its bed with irresistible force
through a narrow winding chasm where only the rock
pigeons can follow its course. Therefore the road deserts
the river and runs up the mountain on the right side of
the valley in innumerable zigzags. We first cross the
mouth of a small transverse valley, called Tsaldot, which
comes not from the Trans-Himalaya, like the former, but
from the Ladak range, the mighty partition between the
Indus and Sutlej. And then we work our way up to the
small saddle Tsaldot-la, where the height is 14,748 feet.
The mist hides the distant view, but as far as we can
see the landscape is uncommon and grand. Deep down
below us yawns the gigantic abyss which the grinding
waters have carved out through countless ages. The
sides fall down sheer and the river cannot be seen, but its
heavy hollow roar resounds among the mountains like
growling thunder. Soon the heights of the Ladak range
will screen the Trans-Himalaya, but we should still see
some of its ridges did not the opaque rain-clouds envelop
them. Behind us gleam the green meadows of Tirtapuri,
but all on our way in front is of the greyest grey.
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 243
From the ridge of the pass the wildly fissured mountain
looks fairly uniform, but much foreshortened. We are
astonished at the view of the Sutlej valley and its great
tributaries which are all very steeply or even vertically cut
down into the earth's crust, forming a maze of ditches and
corridors, which are nearly allied to the canons of the
Colorado. We seem to be on the limit of two different
forms of landscape. We have left the horizontal lines, the
gentle undulations of the earth's surface. Now vertical
lines begin to come into prominence, the grand rugged
sculpture that is eaten down with unsparing energy. The
mountain ranges stand like weathered ruins on the pedestal
of the plateau country, and the disintegrated material con-
tributes to fill up the hollows in the ground, and smooth
down the surface. But here in the wonderful land we are
now entering the products of weathering are washed away
by the ever-flowing rivers.
Slowly and cautiously the caravan advances along the
steep precipices. Sometimes we are three hundred feet
above the level of the river, sometimes nearly six hundred ;
we ascend, descend, turn to the left, then to the right, and
struggle painfully and slowly over small ditches among
pebbles and small boulders. Often we ride along the edge
of a precipice, where a single false step would hurl us into
the depths.
Before me rides the lama, Samtang Rangdol, on his
black yak, wrapped in his red monk's toga and with a cloth
wound round his head. My curiosity amuses him, and he
gives me scraps of information even when I do not question
him. Now he leads us up to another saddle and again we
stop dumb with admiration and astonishment at the bold
peculiar sculpture of the Himalayas. The cloud masses of
the south-west monsoon hang like a gloomy canopy over
the brow of the Himalayas, and send down lighter rain
fringes over the valley, at the bottom of which the Sutlej
plays its funeral march in ever rumbling organ tones.
A green spot glimmers among the grey indistinct rain-
washed mountains— the meadows near the Kyung-lung
monastery. We are a day's journey from that place which
yet looks so near. The time of straight lines and long
244 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
days' marches is over ; here the path winds along as
often precipitous as horizontal. A point may seem quite
near, while the distance to it is hopelessly long by the path
which twists in all directions.
At length the path runs down over a chaos of ridges
and rocky spurs of micaceous quartzite, separated by deeply
excavated valleys and troughs. Now we ride on the left
side and then on the right side of a ridge, and in either
case have a deep ravine on our other side. Over the last
declivity we come down to an expansion of the valley and
pitch camp 462 a yard from the bank of the Sutlej and a
yard above the water. We are 14,003 feet above the sea,
and have descended only 253 feet from Tirtapuri and
1053 from the Langak-tso.
Immediately above this fine camping - ground the
narrow corridor which forced us to climb the heights comes
to an end. Proud and mighty, like a king among rivers,
the Sutlej comes forth from its rocky portal and spreads
out in an expansion of its valley. Its thick turbid and
brownish-grey water rushes in a compact mass of foaming
and heavily thundering billows out of the chasm. The
depth might then be 6 J feet, perhaps 10 or even 13 in the
deepest channel of the bed. Our lama told us that there
is a ford here which may be used in the dry season. It is
then better to pass over to the left bank instead of climb-
ing up again over the mountains on the right.
The way we take over the Himalayas may certainly be
called a high road, an imperial route if one likes to call it
so, but it is not a grand trunk road, a main artery where
Indian and Tibetan traders meet to barter the coral and
pearls of the warm seas for the sheep's wool and yak hides
of the land of snow. All day we meet not a single soul, no
travellers, no animals, wild or tame. Seldom do we see a
smoked slab of stone, the ashes of a dung fire, or the
stones of a fireplace where a black tent has stood over the
flames.
Here peace rules. The mighty river reigns in majestic
solitude. I could not take my eyes away from its brown
bubbles as they hurried on their headlong descent to India.
We should soon follow it. I loved this stream, for no
91. In the Upper Suti.ej Valley.
^^^^1
1
p^
1
^tV*^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^!
L*^
''^^^H
1
^^^^^H
1
^^^^H
1
^Wfp^-'^ .^,
v^/^Hj^V^
-T*i
rr -lap- ■ ^- ^^,
^
92. The Sutlej in a Wild Ravine.
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 245
white man had ever seen its source before me. I was to
follow its course to the sea with increasing interest and
ever greater eagerness. It was grand to fall asleep by its
dull roar and hear it again when I awoke.
During the night the river rose ij inches. The tem-
perature did not fall below 43.5° ; it must gradually rise as
we come down to lower levels. But at present the land of
warm nights is far away.
From the camp the path runs uphill over the terraces
and hills of the right bank, and after a short time we find
ourselves at an unpleasant place which Samtang Rangdol
had prepared us for beforehand. Here I preferred my own
feet to those of the horse.
The path clings like a cornice to the precipitous
flank. We creep into every gully and cleft of the
precipice, wind round every outstanding rock, mount
and descend and avail ourselves of every capricious
curve of the solid rock. Irregular staircases run up
and down in the bare calcareous sandstone and quartzite,
where man's hand has never been raised to remove an
obstacle from the path or level an inequality. It takes us
quite two hours to get over a length of little more than
a hundred yards. The loads are unstrapped and carried
by the men. Only two energetic mules contrive to get
over the ground safely with the sacks and tents with which
they are laden. The worst spot is a steeply sloping flat,
the surface of a stratum without fissures or inequalities to
give a sure foothold. The animals have to slide down this
toboggan with stiffened legs, while one man leads each by
the halter and two others hold it by the tail to put the
brake on.
Then the animals were loaded again and we crossed two
deep troughs down to the river. The path ran between the
bank and the foot of the lowest erosion terrace. Old
terrace shelves skirt the steep walls of the left bank, often
projecting in cornices and overhanging slabs, and rising
230 to 260 feet above the valley floor. Various bands ot
gravel, sand, and clay crop out in its exposures. Not
much room is left for the path during the rainy season, and
there is seldom space enough for a strip of fair grass. At
246 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the entrance of a large side valley on the left there is an
open flat where a vividly green field of barley is ripening
for harvest. But there is not a man to be seen. Perhaps
the owner of the field lives in Kyung-lung, whither a road
runs along the left bank, passing two large mani walls.
Among light-coloured rocky slabs, knobs, and ridges of
very fantastic forms, the valley again contracts to a wild
narrow chasm. We were just at its commencement, when
a man came running after us shouting loudly. At last a
human being in this lifeless country ! Or perhaps it was
the outrider of a troop which would force us to return to
the path of duty. No, not at all ! When the man came
nearer we recognized our striped friend, the tramp of
Chiu-gompa, who trotted up breathlessly swinging his
cudgel to keep off the dogs, which had always held him in
suspicion.
" What do you want, ' Beggar ' ? Did you not receive
your pay, and were you not dismissed for good ? "
" Yes, sir ; but just as you rode away a Gova and his
men came to Tirtapuri, and the monks complained to him
that I had shown you the way to the monastery. Then
the Gova threatened to take me bound to Gartok, there to
be brought before the Garpun and be beaten."
" How did you contrive to escape.-^ "
" I managed to steal away from Tirtapuri in the dark,
and now I have almost run myself to death in trying to
overtake you."
" And now you wish to travel with us again ? "
" Yes, sir, let me go with you to India. If I return to
Tibet I shall be beaten to death without ceremony."
" Well, come along in the meantime."
But now we have something else to think of. Before
us yawns the chasm which the river in its fury has cut
through the living rock, which, as expert evidence informs
us, consists of micaceous quartzite and concretions of car-
bonate of lime. What a difference between this river and
those we have known up in Tibet ! They glided smoothly
and noiselessly along their beds. Here, on the contrary,
we see a river which collects all its energy to eat down like
a saw blade into the rocks and free itself from its gaol of
93 AND 94-
Awkward Places ox the March.
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 247
solid stone. It no longer babbles clearly with a rippling
lapping murmur, but roars with a dull heavy din which fills
the narrow valley, that valley where all loose products of
weathering are swept away from the sides, and where we
feel as if the rocky foundation trembled beneath the weight
of the 6350 cubic feet of water per second.
But what is become of the majestic river that we have
just seen ? The Sutlej has shrivelled up to nothing ; it is
smaller than the Tokbo-shar. Ah, it is only an illusion ;
the velocity is tremendous, the depth must be enormous!
Look at this wild tumultuous sheet of water which is thrown
up into permanent waves, their form and position pre-
scribed by the inequalities, windings, and coves of the
river-bed. See these rounded domes which resemble in
form a propeller blade and are always boiling at the same
spot. And there a comb foams with hissing flakes which
remind us of the clods torn up by the ploughshare. And
here is a row of undulations which curve their backs grace-
fully and like dolphins and porpoises shoot along in merry,
careless play.
All this water is thick as pea-soup owing to the solid
matter washed down by rain and torn up by erosive action,
which enables the river to deepen its bed more effectually.
Here, at Kyung-lung, the river has to contend with the
first formidable obstacle, a bar across its course. We shall
find many such obstacles on the march before us. They
increase in size on the way down, as the river does in
breadth. One of the finest, most imposing breached
valleys in the world is that which the Sutlej has cut
through the Himalayas. Our suspense increases day by
day. We look on the map and wonder if the river will
carry out its intention successfully.
We are down at the bridge of Kyung-lung, where for
the first time we pass, not through the Sutlej, but over it.
Here beside the bridge-head on the right bank is a red
and white chhorten. It has no more to do with the structure
of the bridge than the small kiosk-like chapels which stand
at the right bridge-head of the Nicolas bridge at St. Peters-
burg, and in which peasants and citizens kneel and cross
themselves before the pictures of saints. The difference
248 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
is only that the chhorten of Kyung-lung, perhaps from time
to time restored and improved, stood as a protecting bastion
of the bridge many centuries before St. Petersburg was
founded.
What does this chhorten mean ? Just what the decorated
cairn does on a pass or a mani wall on a road : an offering,
a homage, an appeal to the powerful spirits of the river
not to make use of their physical superiority against help-
less man. It stands there as an eloquent witness that the
bridge is under the protection of the gods, and that the
traveller may confidently entrust his life to its bending
planks. Were the chhorten removed from Kyung-lung the
spirits of the Langchen-kamba would be angry and demand
a human sacrifice ; the bridge would give way under the
weight of the traveller, and the victim would perish in the
seething whirlpool.
Not far from the bank stands a row of red-painted mani
walls and pyramidal chhorten. About three hundred feet
above the river the monastery of Kyung-lung is poised
like a swallow's nest on the top of a singularly modelled
pebble terrace. The rain-water has washed out cones and
shafts, walls and towers in its steep front. Quite at the
top of this apparently frail substructure is throned Kyung-
lung, turning a brick-red fa9ade towards the river, and it
reminds us of Lamayuru in Ladak, though it is much
smaller, A building on a lower shelf is said to contain
monks* cells and storerooms. Dark holes and embrasures
in the vertical wall of the terrace indicate cave-dwellings.
A splendid position, a wonderfully beautiful prospect !
The Tibetan lamas have a sharp eye for architectural
beauty, lines of solid simplicity, and show a highly educated
taste. The brotherhood of Kyung-lung consists of eight
persons, and, like most others in the neighbourhood, they
belong to the Gelugpa or orthodox sect.
Lama Samtang Rangdol has taken leave of me and is
gone up to the monastery. While my Ladakis unload the
animals, I examine the bridge, which is in the usual
Asiatic style.
The bridge spans the Sutlej where the river is narrowest,
two projecting rocks approaching each other with an interval
V\\ f /
t$^
>^-^-
i >
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 249
of 43 feet Four layers of short beams are walled into
the precipitous faces opposite each other, the uppermost,
which rests on and receives support from the three others,'
being longer and slanting outwards. On their extremities
rest the two round and swinging tree trunks of the sus-
pended bridge, which in their turn bear the planks. The
unevenness in the footway left by the axe has been
removed by wear, rain, and sunshine. The woodwork is
greyish-white, peeled and fragile, and the whole structure
shakes under the feet. It is putting one's Hfe in peril to
cross, not knowing when the limit of elasticity will be reached.
The bridge is only 45 inches broad, and there is no
handrail to give protection. The depth of the river here
must be considerable ; the breadth was not more than
45 feet, but the velocity of the current was tremendous.
Even if we had possessed poles long enough to measure the
depth, we could not have used them, for the pressure of
the compressed volume of water would have broken them
like reeds. Immediately above the bridge some bosses of
solid rock and white pinnacles of stone rise above the
surface, while between them the raging stream boils and
whirls before forcing its way into the narrow trough below
the bridge with deafening roar, hissing crests of foam and
showers of spray.
A Tibetan came running up on the farther bank. He
made gestures with his arms as though to keep us back,
and we could see that he was shouting something, but it
was impossible to hear anything but the roar of the river.
We made signs to him to come over to us and he came.
" What is the matter? " we asked him.
" The bridge will not bear the weight of a horse, but
the mules may perhaps cross without the beams breaking."
" Do you suppose that we are going to leave our horses
here ? "
" They can swim across the river farther down. You
see that the Langchen-kamba widens out there and is
quiet."
" If the bridge will bear the mules it will the horses
also. We shall see. I only hope that it will not collapse
when half the caravan is over and split it in two."
250 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
" I advise you to be careful. The bridge is rotten and
bad."
" How old is it then ? "
" It is ten years since it was last renewed. The bridge-
heads were built thirty years ago."
The Ladakis are accustomed to dangerous bridges at
home. They walked over carrying the loads on their
backs with firm straddling steps. Only one man on the
bridge at a time ! I saw the last load laid down on the
farther bank with a feeling of relief, then crossed and
stationed myself beside the left bridge-head.
Now come the animals. We had bought ten goats
which supplied me with milk. Let them try the bridge
first. Goats are not endowed with much sense. The
whole pack remains standing, as though rooted to the
ground, where the planks join the firm bridge-head. They
want to turn back, scenting something disagreeable. The
river seethes below them. Here there must be some pit-
fall which some villains have placed in the way to destroy
them.
" On with you, you beasts ! " shouts Tubges, the
herdsman.
If only they had sense enough to cross over singly !
But no, they must, of course, crowd up together, with the
danger of pushing one another off the bridge. They do
all get over, but with a close shave.
" One of the mules to the front ! "
A little animal from Lhasa is driven up. He has surely
seen a bridge before, for he is quite calm, and manages the
feat very cleverly. He steps on to the planks without
hesitation, and counteracts the swing of the bridge by
loose elastic movements of the knee. He bends his head
down and smells the bridge as he goes, keeping exactly in
the middle. His comrades cross with the same composure.
Horses are more stupid than mules, at least in crossing
bridges. Ours were from Chang-tang, and had never seen
a bridge in their lives. The first that was driven up shied,
turned round and ran away. Number two followed his
example. So they had to be led across. But, in order
not to load the beams with too heavy a weight, the rope
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 251
was made as long as the bridge, and two men laid hold of
It and pulled with all their might, while two others lashed
the horse from behind until the refractory animal ventured
out on to the planks, and, trembling as much as they,
tramped across heavily and stupidly.
Now remained the two white horses I had bought of
the robber chief Kamba Tsenam. The one, a large power-
ful animal, reared and preferred blows and stripes to the
awful bridge. Perhaps the goats would encourage him.
So they had to take the walk again. Then the horse
plucked up courage and galloped across so fast to reach firm
ground again that he was within a hair's-breadth of tramp-
ling a goat to death. At last came the turn of my riding
horse, which had carried me 500 miles from Kamba
Tsenam's tent, and had twice crossed the Trans-Himalaya
through the labyrinth of the Bongba mountains, passing
lakes and fording rivers. I looked upon him as a friend
and helper who had shared in my discoveries. He was
snow-white and in capital condition, much too good to be
drowned in the Sutlej.
Now the horse must submit to his fate. What could
he do when the men with united strength tugged at the
rope and two others drove him on from behind } He
looked very unhappy and anxious, and trembled in all his
limbs as he ventured on to the treacherous planks. All
would have passed off well if he had only gone straight on.
He had seen that the bridge had borne all the other
animals, and he must, as usual, have wished for their
company. But when he was in the middle of the bridge
he was overcome by fear. Regardless of the rope attached
to his halter he stopped and turned to the left, so that he
stood across the bridge and looked upstream. He gazed
into the rushing whirling torrent below. His eyes glared,
his nostrils expanded, he snorted loudly, and then he leapt
to meet his death in the raging boiling flood below.
His hind hoofs struck against the edge of the bridge, so
that the horse made a somersault and struck the water with
his back. Of course he is dashed to pieces, I thought. It
was fortunate that I had not ridden over this superb bridge.
We rescued the saddle, and the only thing lost was the
252 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
rope, which the men let go when they saw what the end
would be.
At the moment when the horse struck the surface of
the water he was seized by the furious current, and dis-
appeared at once. We rushed down from the bridge-head
to see if the mangled carcase would be brought up again to
the top of the rolling swirling waters.
" There he is ! " cried Lobsang.
" Impossible ! Yes, by Jove !"
Yonder some seventy yards down his white head rose
out of the waves. The Sutlej was much broader at that
place, as though it would rest after its exertions.
" He is alive, he is swimming ! " cries Kutus. No one
troubles himself about the other animals.
" Bravo, he is swimming towards the left bank ! "
" Yes, or he would have to make another jump."
" Fancy his taking such a roundabout way when he had
only half the bridge to cross, hardly ten paces ! "
" He must have lost his senses."
However, the white horse had by no means lost his
energy. A few powerful strokes brought him to the bank,
and with two lively jumps he was on dry ground, where he
began to graze at once as if nothing had happened. He
snorted once or twice, and shook the water off, but all his
limbs were sound, and he had not broken any of his legs.
The bath seemed, indeed, to have refreshed him.
I hastened to my four-footed friend, wiped the water
out of his eyes, and patted him. He was now doubly dear
to me. The Sutlej had been unable to separate us, and
now we should enjoy each other's society on the road to
India. I admired his reckless courage, but had no mind
to rival him in boldness. No doubt the horse had been
caught up in the volume of water, had become part of it,
and had been carried down without striking against a
projecting rock. The spirits of the Langchen-kamba had
favoured him. That is the advantage of having a chhorten
erected at a bridge-head !
From the ravine it was not many hundred yards to the
next meadowland. The animals were laden again and we
set out. Then we missed the dogs. They were on the
96. The Suilej Bridge near Kyung-lunc,
97
Cairn on steep Edge of the Sutlej Valley.
XX A DIZZY PASSAGE OF THE SUTLEJ 253
right bank, and we could see that they were barking. They
sniffed at the river, but it was too furious, and neither of
them would cross the bridge to save his life. Then
Kunchuk went over with Little Puppy on his arm. When
he was in the middle he set the dog, down, thinking that
he would run over the other half by himself Not if he
knew it ! He did not, indeed, act like the white horse,
but laid himself down on his belly, crouched down close
to the planks, and howled piteously, not daring to move a
paw, and quite paralysed by terror. There he waited
until he was carried over the other half. But he was so
frightened that he sobbed badly all the rest of the day.
Takkar was dragged unmercifully over the bridge by strong
hands.
CHAPTER XXI
THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ
A CLEAR spring gushed up on the meadow of Kyung-lung.
We bought provisions, butter and tsamba from our neigh-
bours inhabiting five black tents. Two elderly genial
monks visited us and presented me with a kadakh.
" Can we do anything for you, sir? " one of them asked.
'• Why, yes ; I want a guide to Daba."
" All right ; I will guide you thither if you will give me
the same pay as Samtang Rangdol."
" Agreed ; and if you serve me well you shall get some-
thing over."
But when it grew dusk the lama sent an excuse. An
important monk from Totling-gompa was expected every
moment, and he would be very angry if one of the brothers
of Kyung-lung were absent. Samtang Rangdol, too, could
not be persuaded to accompany us farther, but he begged
me to keep the beggar from Chiu in my service, or he
would murder him to get possession of his money. The
beggar was allowed to remain with us ; we should be able to
make use of him : there is always plenty to do in a caravan.
However, as we started on August 5, we obtained a
guide quite unexpectedly. A tea caravan of five men and
fifteen yaks which had rested at Kyung-lung, and was
travelling to Totling, set off at the same time. The leader
was named Samye Karmo, and he was promised a recom-
pense if he answered honestly all the questions put to him.
In the end he went off without his gratuity, so his answers
were not much to be relied on.
The yaks, laden with large bales of tea sewed up in
254
CHAP. XXI THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ 255
hides, and escorted by their drivers, two of whom carried
guns, tramped over rubbish and grass, over rivulets and
slopes. They had come into the world as tiny calves in
Chang-tang, and found the climate of the confined valley
much too hot for their thick coats. So they seized every
opportunity of taking a footbath in the margin of the river.
One of them went out too far into the water, sinking deeper
and deeper. Samye Karmo and his party shouted and
threw stones over the yak into the water. But the animal
liked the cool water which soaked through his hair up to
his back, he snorted and shook his head at the stone-
throwing, and went on until he began to swim, the bales of
tea acting like a cork jacket. He did not suspect that with
his shagginess his life hung by a hair. If the sucking
stream had caught him, then ! But he escaped it, and
dripping like a sponge he climbed up to the bank again.
Both concerned in this freak, Samye and the yak, suffered
from the consequences, the tea being no better for the
wetting and the load twice as heavy.
We had a long distance to the next place where we
could ride a whole hour by the Sutlej bank. Meanwhile
we said good-bye to the stream. It rushes into another
chasm where the volumes of water splash up along the foot
of the mountains on the left. Here the precipice is not
vertical but hangs over, being undermined by the eroding
force of the river. There is, then, no other choice but to
climb the limestone cliffs in short steep zigzags and get up
to the top. The river disappears below ; its roar becomes
fainter and at last is heard no more.
Our road mounts higher and higher. The eyes can
roam over greater distances and the horizon retires back-
wards. The gradient becomes less steep and at last we
are on a dome-shaped summit named Munto-mangbo —
if Samye Karmo told us the truth. A row of cairns stands
at the edge of a vertical v/all. The sides of the trench
which the river has here cut into the earth's crust are
precipitous cliffs. The Sutlej works incessantly down
below. Blocks loosened by the winter frosts are always
falling, and are used by the river as tools to chisel out
and deepen its bed.
256 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
We follow the Chinese tea slowly and gently over the
hills and down the steep cliffs, and cross two deeply
excavated side valleys without water. We have to cross
all those troublesome side valleys which make the journey
to India so terribly long. And then we pass over gently
undulating heights. The eyes roam over immense dis-
tances. One forgets the vertically sunk canons, and one
might suppose that between the low crests and peaks to
the north the country is quite level.
Place two rectangular plates slightly inclined to one
another and leave a small interval at the bottom ; that
is the Sutlej valley. But imagine further that the plates
are indented with innumerable grooves all running down
to the trench in the middle. Such is the country traversed
by the road to India, a road which has a superb contempt
for the horizontal curves of the map. For half an hour it
may run on an even dome between two side valleys and
then plunge headlong into an abyss which takes a whole
hour to cross. We stand at the edge and see that the
opposite edge is only a gunshot off. We should like to
jump or fly over, and we see in imagination the viaduct which
will never span the valley with its spidery web. But it is
no use. We must clamber down the hundred steep zigzags
and then climb up again on the other side to reach at last
the opposite edge.
Now we remain for a good while up above, for the road
runs south-westwards nearly parallel to two canons. The
path is well trodden down, for numbers of men and animals
have tramped along it in the course of time. Now it is
empty and desolate. If there are tents and huts here, they
are hidden down below where brooks irrigate the meadows
and barley thrives. Up here the ground is covered with
fine gravel, hard and dry. Only tufts of hardy grass are
kept alive by occasional showers. A flock of twelve
Ammon sheep flies before us with graceful leaps. Now and
then we come across the skull of a wild sheep bleached and
worn by sunshine and rain.
Ah ! now the level road ends. The bottomless abyss
of the caiion Shib or Shibe-chu, mightier than its prede-
cessors, yawns at our feet. As we stand at the extreme
gS. The Eves roam over immense Distances.
99. On a Valley Bottom.
THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ 257
edge and look down we can see the grand river windinjr
along the bottom. At this height the water below seems
motionless, but the river twists like a riband from S. 12' W.
Traveller, dismount here, I advise you, or you will be
shot over the head of your horse. There are other ways
of reaching the valley bottom quicker than you would like,
for the ground is often hard and covered with detritus, in
which both men and horses slide down if they cannot jDut
on the brake in time. I had put on excellent foot-gear, a
cross between a boot and a stocking, made of white felt and
ending in a sock of wild ass's hide, but without solid soles.
A practical but not an elegant foot-covering. It was warm
and soft for riding, but was awkward to walk in over pebbles.
But one can endure much without dying, and when the
socks are worn through they can be replaced by new ones
in a moment.
At any rate we get down, and camp 464 is pitched
on the meadows of the Shibe-chu. Next morning the
river carried 406 cubic feet of water, and its tributary,
the Lunak, which comes from the south-west, 81 feet.
The united stream flows through a wild narrow chasm to
the Sutlej.
A perplexing country! If I did not draw on my map
every bend of the road, every rise and every dip in the
ground, I should never be able to disentangle this com-
plicated labyrinth. Where we ride on terrace platforms of
earlier or later origin and up hill and down dale in trenches
and side valleys, no guide is necessary. But frequently
the road runs for a time in a valley bottom and is lost to
sight, being swept away by the swollen water. There
we should be lost if we had not Samye Karmo. He is
really pleasant company. So the little pug-nosed Chinese
lap-dog with the collar of bells seemed to think, which Samye
had carried day after day in his arms all the way from
Lhasa. The caravan had been four months on the journey,
but it had made long halts wherever the pasturage was
good. Samye Karmo entertained us with the gossip of
the capital. The Dalai Lama was on his way to Pekin. he
declared.
" How do you know that ? "
258 TRANS-HIMALAYA
" It was the common talk in the streets of Lhasa four
months ago."
" When is he coming back to the Potala? "
" I do not know."
" Do they miss him ? "
"Not exactly ! As for myself, I do not care a rap
about him."
No doubt the good Samye was more civil -tongued
when the Pope of Lamaism again entered his capital at
the beginning of the year 1910. Perhaps also he prayed
" Om mani padme hum " with greater fervency than on the
road to Daba when the Dalai Lama prepared to make his
entry into the Potala, this time from India. At any rate,
that pontiff is an important historical personage. He has
fought with India and China, and never has Chenrezi been
incarnated in an earthly shell which has travelled so far.
So we march on, Samye Karmo beguiling the length of
the way with his conversation. He leads us up barren
heights and down a steep path into the narrow valley
Sang-serpo, where a spring feeds a clear rivulet rippling
brightly through luxuriant grass.
" Here we stop," says Samye.
" Why not go on to Dongbo-gompa — it cannot be much
farther ? "
" No, it is not far ; but there is no good grazing there.
And, besides, it is dangerous to turn the animals loose at
Dongbo-gompa, for there are barley-fields there and the
damage the animals do has to be paid for."
" How much is exacted for trampling down the corn in
the fields of the Dongbo monastery ? "
" As a rule, one has to pay a rupee for every hoof-mark
on the field."
" That may be an expensive business if there are many
horses."
" Of course ; and I advise you to remain here to-day
and pass by Dongbo-gompa to-morrow."
We therefore set up our tents, lighted our dung fires,
and were glad to be under cover when the rain began.
But it was a ruse of the rogue Samye Karmo. He wanted
to shake us off, because it might be dangerous to march
THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ 259
up to a monastery in the company of a European. After
the yaks had grazed awhile on the grassy margin of the
brook, they were assembled in marching order by their
drivers, and the men from Lhasa went down the valley
with their far-travelled tea, singing and whistling. We
might have followed their example, but we had already
made ourselves comfortable for the night, and did not care
to move in the rain.
Good heavens, how it rained that night ! The patter-
ing and trickling made it almost impossible to sleep. But
though it still rained, we followed next morning the trail
of the yaks from Lhasa down the narrow valley and up
over hills where the mist shut out the view. Then we lost
the track, and the beggar from Chiu who led the van had
certainly no notion where the monastery lay. It was by
pure good luck that we found it.
A curious scene presents itself in the mist when we
come suddenly to the edge of another side valley. The
edge seems to end in space, and below us yawns bottom-
less emptiness. We let ourselves slide down the steep
soaked slopes, and thus reach the valley floor, where a
flock of sheep tells us that men are near. A tethered horse
is grazing on the meadow. A streamered cairn and a
pyramidal waymark show us that we have struck the right
road. It runs over a confusion of hillocks and trenches
to the north. On the left is another abyss, a side valley
of the first rank. Its lower slopes are vividly green with
fields of barley which promise a good harvest.
This valley is called Dongbo, and soon we see Dongbo-
gompa peep out through the mist from the commanding
hill on which it is proudly enthroned. The road ascends
steeply, sometimes winding among humps of living stone,
sometimes running like a cornice along the foot of vertical
pebble terraces, into which caves open, blackened by the
smoke of camp-fires.
Like so many other monasteries in Tibet, Dongbo-
gompa seems to have seen better days. The first impres-
sion is one of neglect and decay — ruins of houses and walls,
heaps of sweepings and offal, offensive to the nose, savage
measly dogs which rush at us and get a warm reception
26o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
from Takkar, dirty ragged villagers and monks. If the
people had only been civil ! But Samye Karmo had warned
us against them. They had nothing to sell and would
have nothing to do with us. What they had they wanted
themselves, and it was no use to chink our rupees in
their ears.
While the caravan marched down the bottom of the
valley, I stayed awhile above with Kutus and Lobsang to
inspect at any rate the outside of the monastery. A dark
covered cloister where pilgrims made the kore or beatify-
ing circuit of the sanctuary was the only thing out of the
common. The gate of the Ihakang was locked.
I draw a hasty sketch of the monastery and the Dongbo
valley which winds down to the Sutlej. But the rain begins
again and I cannot draw on wet paper. The weather is
too wet both for monks and laymen, and they vanish one
after another into their musty holes. The water trickles
and drops from the roofs and from our caps, little muddy
rivulets ripple down the slopes, for to-day the south-west
monsoon gives the Himalayas a thorough drenching, and it
would be no harm if Dongbo-gompa and its refuse heaps
were one day washed away. The monastery, dismal,
lonely, and desolate on such a day, must be a charming
and romantic object when bathed in sunlight or lighted up
by the full moon on clear nights. But in this weather it
hangs like a ghostly castle above the abyss.
As the rain did not abate we made up our minds to
hurry down the steep declivity. We were wet through
when we reached the camp, which stood at a height of
13,390 feet. We had never been so low since we left the
Langak-tso. The barley-fields were better than any we
had seen before, and our animals had to be closely watched
lest they should be tempted to run into the fields. They
had to be content with a small meadow by the Dongbo-
chu, which carries down to the Sutlej 140 cubic feet of
water per second. The tents were pitched close to the
stream, which filled the valley with a roar magnified a
thousand times by the echo. Again I listened to the
monotonous rattle on my tent and the drippings which
formed little puddles inside.
_-J^^^M^^^»^M^:>-
THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ 261
We were badly off for provisions. The men had only
half a brick of tea left, and there was nothing more for me
but a small bag of wheaten flour, tea and sugar. Not to
go to bed hungry, we resolved with bleeding hearts to sacri-
fice one of the goats. It was cruel, but it had to be. The
goat was thin and miserable, but it performed its last act
of friendship as well as it could. In the evening my men
sang the old songs, but they sounded more subdued than
usual, for both the river and the clouds chimed in with
powerful lungs.
The temperature at night falls to 40.3° and we have
not yet received a greeting from the summer of India.
But we are travelling, as on the upper Indus, parallel to
the Himalayas, for the actual breach does not begin before
Shipki.
Close to the camp begins the steep ascent that leads
up to the open heights and distant views. Again we see
the general dip of the surface towards the Sutlej valley
and the dark straight lines which mark the cafions. And
we have to cross them all. The first two are not so bad,
but the third is a valley of the first rank. At its margin I
turn my eyes in all directions. N. 25° E. is seen a flat
summit covered with snow ; it rises up from the Ladak
range, which we remember as the watershed between the
Sutlej and Indus. The range we have seen for several
days to the south is named Zaskar, and on its mighty crest
lies the Shipki-la, at the foot of which the Sutlej breaks
through the main wall of its prison.
We slip and slide down the sloping flanks and plat-
forms to the bottom of the large valley which the Yungu-
tsangpo has carved out. We see this tributary emerge
from a rocky ravine a little above the road and then spread
itself out on the expanded valley floor which crosses our
route. The river carries 350 cubic feet now, but we per-
ceive by the empty beds, some still damp and others
containing longish pools, that it has lately been much
more swollen. We have now waded through 7400 cubic
feet of water, but as we have not seen the tributaries on
the other side of the valley we must estimate the volume
of the Sutlej as at least 10,600 cubic feet.
262 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
A young Tibetan on horseback overtook us at the
river. Was he a traitor or the outrider of a party which
would force us to turn back ? No ; he was only taking
a message to Daba, and as he warned us that we should
not find water again until we were there, we set up our
camp here.
The barley-fields on the lowest terraces of the western
side of the valley promised an abundant harvest. Only
two poor families lived in ruined huts ; the men were not
at home, but the women showed that they could very well
take care of themselves. They appeared at sunset before
my tent where they behaved like suffragists.
" Your cursed goats have trampled down a field of
crops. Will you pay for the damage, you villains, or
must we complain of you to the monastery ? "
" What is the value of the corn destroyed ? "
" At least ten rupees."
" Then they must have eaten up all there was."
" No haggling, but down with the cash."
Two of my men looked at the place and found that the
goats had indeed been feasting there — and very welcome
they were — but that they could not have destroyed barley
of more than the value of a rupee. The women received
three rupees and went back smiling and satisfied. They
had themselves driven the goats into the corn and thus
made a little profit even before the grain was ripe. But
as I could not afford at the time to pay extra corn duties,
I gave my men notice that in future they would be re-
sponsible for all forbidden grazing on our neighbours'
fields.
On August 9 we ride up out of the valley of the
Yungu-tsangpo ; up on the tanga, the tableland, we find
ourselves 1150 feet higher than in our camp down on the
valley bottom. How long will this amusement continue.-*
Eight small side valleys are crossed, a perpetual up and
down. The air line may be short, but our road is long
and tiring.
After a time the direction is north-westerly, and a
new ravine of the first rank gradually opens on the left.
To the right begins a small side valley which gradually
THE RAVINES OF THE SUTLEJ 263
deepens as it runs down to join the larger. The even
elevation on which we ride gradually narrows into a wedge
with a point projecting like a springboard into space
between the two valleys. It is as though the earth ended
at this point and space began. It is too magnificent. I
must remain here a long time until I have looked enough.
The caravan may continue its march to the camping-
ground of the day. I take my seat at the end of the point,
and there I am surrounded by dizzy abysses on all sides
except the one from which I came. The view commands
all the region between the ranges on the north and south.
To the north-west it is unlimited, the yellowish - brown
land ^ vanishing into the horizon. I can perceive the
position of the Sutlej valley to which the innumerable
profound valleys make their way.
The air is clear and not a cloud is in the sky. North
and south the view is limited, in the former direction by
the Ladak range, in the other by the Zaskar range, both
looking rather unimportant and showing small patches of
firn on their flat summits. The interval between them
may amount to 40 or 45 miles. The cross sectional
profile is the curve of a tightly stretched rope, the fall
therefore decreasing towards the middle where the Sutlej
flows. This, however, applies only to the original valley
with its loose deposits and its filled-up basins as seen from
any point up on the tanga. Seen from a point, such I
was on now, vertical and steeply inclined lines pre-
dominate. Cut up and hollowed out by rain-water and by
rivers which during a damper climatic period were more
voluminous than at present, the country with the wonder-
fully carved ravines at my feet is like a gigantic cathedral
turned upside down. The point on which I sit surrounded
by ravines has perpendicular sides. Below follows a steep
declivity, and then again the fall is very sudden if not
vertical. The lowest descent to the valley bottom is less
steep, owing to fallen ddbris which has here accumulated
into a fan. Exactly opposite, on the farther side of the
main valley, is seen much better and more distinctly a
similar formation, a succession of perpendicular and steep
declivities from the top down to the valley bottom. In
264 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxi
all the corners between the valleys accumulations are
collected of closely packed loose material consisting of the
finest dust, sand, and gravel. Fractures and landslides
frequently occur, but on the whole the formation is charac-
terized by a regularity which extends over the whole
country and lends it a striped, checked appearance. The
vertical lines are fissures and drainage channels into which
the rain-water penetrates, causing landslips. As far as the
eye can reach, the same regular design prevails. Over
the flat surface of the opposite side of the valley still more
valleys can be descried in tones growing fainter and in
ever greater foreshortening. Only the uppermost slope
is seen in all cases. After the masterly delineations of
American geologists I can recognize with the greatest ease
the same eroded sculpture, the same picturesque forma-
tion, which have made the cafions of the Colorado river
so famous.
On one of the lowest shelves on the western side of
the great valley below us the Daba-gompa stands perhaps
somewhat more than 300 feet above the valley floor.
Below the monastery stands the village of Daba enclosed
as in a niche by pyramids, cones, and shafts of detritus.
This village is the most important trade-centre on all the
road to the frontier.
We have now seen enough, and we go down into the
valley which we had shortly before on our right. From
small beginnings it eats its way deeper down, and through
its shelving labyrinth of small trenches, projections, and
hills we descend to the bottom of the Daba valley. The
river of the same name is divided into several arms, and
carries only 159 cubic feet per second. Camp 468 stood
on its left bank below the monastery village.
loi. Laden Vaks on thk March.
I02. Carrying Loads over the Slti.ej Bridge near Daha.
CHAPTER XXII
A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY
I DECIDED to remain two nights in the camp at Daba.
The animals had had no day of rest since we had left
Tokchen, and we had to procure provisions at any price.
There were no pasture grounds but the juicy barley-fields,
so our horses and mules had to be tied up.
First of all I drew a panorama of all the castles, towers,
and crenellated walls which turned their fantastic fronts
to the lane of the Daba valley, and had been modelled by
rain and rivulets in the lowest declivity of the left flank.
I had not yet finished when Kutus and Lobsang returned
from a first reconnoitring expedition in the village ; they
had bundles full of rice and tsaniba, as well as barley for
the animals. We were, then, safe from famine in the
meantime. They had also found some bad tobacco and
filled their pipes at once ; at any rate it had a sweeter
aroma than the yak-dung they had puffed of late. Several
Indian merchants were staying in Daba, and inquiries for
provisions should be made at their camps next morning.
Before I was dressed my good fellows had again added
to our supplies. Gulam, the cook, beaming with satis-
faction, came to show me his booty — half a sack of potatoes,
a bag of the small sweet raisins called kishmish in Turke-
stan, a whole apronful of dried plums, two packets of
stearin candles, and three plump sheep. We had scarcely
ever been so well off since we left Drugub the year before.
The potatoes were the best of all. Roasted potatoes and
milk in Daba tasted to me better than oysters and cham-
pagne in the Grand Hotel at Stockholm.
265
266 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Accompanied by my usual satellites, Lobsang and
Kutus, I betake myself at seven o'clock to the village,
where I spend the whole day till darkness drives me back
home. I should like to stay there for a week, for I have
never seen subjects so alluring for the brush and so charm-
ing for the pencil since I left behind me the temple courts
of Tashi-lunpo. The village lies like a bird's nest at the
mouth of an extremely short semicircular valley, a niche,
or whatever this pocket-like recess may be called. It lies
in the pebble terrace amid a forest of stone pyramids and
cones separated from one another by vertical clefts often
so narrow that a man could not squeeze himself into them.
A fissured wall ; a background scene of the wildest,
grandest sculpture ; a row of pillars in several storeys
attached to a wall behind ; an immense organ with closely
crowded pipes. Between the different stages the original
horizontal bedding crops out here and there, and it is not
hard to perceive that one here is in an seolian district of
loss, which owes its fantastic forms to running water.
A wall protects the valley niche on the river-side.
Through its gate, with a threshold of roughly hewn beams,
we enter a market-place, or perhaps it might be called a
broad bazaar street, between two rows of inhabited houses
and rural caravanserais. Two chhortens stand like enig-
matical milestones in the centre of the market, and Daba
is beflagged with innumerable streamers which are fixed on
a rope stretching over the whole village, so that they flutter
blessings and good wishes over traders and cloister brothers
in a silent chorus.
Here and there a merchant has set up his tent, while
the nomads have piled up in blocks and walls their sacks
containing salt from the tsakas, the dried-up lakes of western
Tibet. Brick tea, sent from Lhasa, seems to be in great
demand, and also rice, barley, meal, brown sugar, dried
fruits, and other goods from India.
Daba is an emporium of the barter trade in this part of
the province of Ngari-korsum or Hundes. Some fifty
Hindus, most of them from Niti-rong, a valley lying on the
south side of the Niti-la pass, and from Garhwal, had now
come to the fair at Daba.
103. Through a Ravine to the Sutlej Vai.i.ey.
104. The Valley Floor near Daha.
A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY 267
It seemed to me like a whiff of home to hear these
copper -brown men from the frontier of India talking
together in their language, and I was glad to meet these
cheerful heralds of a fairy land, whose palms I longed to
see. But what a difference there was between them and
my old Tibetans, to whom to my sorrow I must soon bid
a long farewell ! As regards their build and the form of the
head, the features and the dress, as well as regards their
language and religion, we are confronted by representatives
of a new type, another race. The face is more finely cut,
more harmonically drawn, and in better proportion than
that of the Tibetans— that is, according to Aryan ideas—
and we recognize therein a transition to the pure Indo-
Germanic type. The body is more slender and graceful,
perhaps an inch or so taller than among the sons of Tibet,
who are distinguished by their powerful muscular develop-
ment, their squat roundish build, their measured, steady,
and never hasty movements, the broad Mongolian form of
head and massive skull.
These strangers from warmer valleys, with their raven-
black hair hanging down in smooth locks, wear a small
round skull-cap often ornamented with simple embroidery.
Most of them wear long, light-grey kaftans gathered in by
a girdle at the waist, narrow trousers fitting closely at the
ankles, and low shoes ending in turned-up points. The
whole appearance of the Hindu is more delicate and
effeminate than that of the Tibetans. The sons of the
Land of Snow are men hardened by their struggle against
the dread forces of nature and a bitterly cold climate.
Some of the houses in the great market of Daba are
more neatly and solidly built than any we have seen since
our departure from the town of Shigatse. A broad red or
blue band runs along the top under the roof, and light-
blue bands are painted round the windows. The architec-
ture reminds one of Italy. The Daba-dzong, the town hall,
or perhaps more correctly the "government house," like
that of an Indian town, first attracts our attention. It is a
group of buildings painted all over hawthorn red, and its
flat roof is decorated with many exorcising streamers and
poles with ribands. A chhorten before the front indicates
268 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
that the Daba-dzong is not only the headquarters of the
town authorities but is also under the control of the state
church. Dzong is a secular term. But the red house is
also a labrang, or the seat of the lama superior of the
monastery, who is named Tugden Nima. In Daba we find
the same organization as in Selipuk, where the abbot of
the monastery also holds in his hands the reins of secular
power.
From the market we come into a quadrangular court,
where the never-absent dog is chained up and rouses the
echo of the rain-carved colonnade of the valley with his
furious bark. Another gate, a stone staircase, an ante-
chamber. Lay and ecclesiastical servants greet me politely
as I enter. A lama invites me to enter the abbot's study,
which is also the justice room. I stalk in with my two
satellites, and next moment find myself in a larger room
with a pillar in the middle, which is fitted up and furnished
in the solid Lamaist style we remember so well in the
red chamber and other principal monks' cells and priests'
dwellings in Tashi-lunpo.
Exactly opposite the entrance sits Tugden Nima, with
his back to a large window filled with panes of thin paper
through which a subdued light penetrates. Against the
light Tugden Nima is seen only as a dark profile, and his
features are imperceptible. I can only make out that he
wears the toga of a monk and has short hair, and also that
letters and documents are piled up among writing materials
on a low, lacquered table.
When I had come up to the table I made a slight bow
which the temporal and spiritual judge of Daba returned
with an inclination of exactly the same angle. But he did
not rise from his divan, which was covered with a mat.
He looked with a smile at my weather-beaten features.
My face had frequently changed its skin in the rarefied
air, and the last integument was tough as parchment and
was darkened by the scorching sun of Tibet. He also
examined my dress. A Sahib in Tibetan costume ! My
green velvet cap had once been thought worthy to adorn
the head of a Tatar khan ; now, from constant changes of
rain and sunshine, it had assumed a hue for which language
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A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY 269
has no name and the colour scale no shade. A brick-red
turban scarf was wound round its border. The blood-red
kaftan, confined at the waist by a grey girdle, had seen
better days. In honour of Tugden Nima I had put on
MongoHan leather boots with strong thick soles. The
satellites were in every respect worthy of their master.
Ragged from top to toe, Kutus could not expect to be
taken for anything but a genuine vagabond from Ladak.
Lobsang wore a kaftan of the same kind as mine, but
fresher in colour, for it had been made in Tokchen.
"Sit down, Sahib," said Tugden Nima after he had
surveyed long enough the far-travelled wanderer who had
come so unexpectedly into his room. Some lamas, silent
and motionless as pillars, Hindus and Tibetan laymen,
lined the walls watching attentively to see what would
happen. Tugden Nima had a pleasant face and good
manners, and he was friendly towards us from the first, not
coarse and repellent like the monks of Dongbo.
" I have heard of you, Sahib, and I know that you
sailed over Tso-mavang in a boat. Singular that you came
off with your life from such an exploit. You might have
aroused the wrath of the gods, and I suspect that you were
exposed to danger more than once, were you not ? "
" Certainly, storm often overtook us, and the boat was
cast ashore by the waves. But if I had displeased the gods
I should not now be sitting on a divan and talking to you,
Tugden Nima."
"You are a friend of the Panchen Rinpoche in Tashi-
lunpo — that explains everything. And I have also heard
that you have visited many monasteries, and have consorted
with the monks on a friendly and confidential footing.
Which monasteries have you seen ? "
I took a good drink from my tea-cup, and then gave
him the whole Hst, from Tashi-lunpo to Tirtapuri.
"You have seen more of them than I," he exclaimed.
" Now, tell me something about yourself," I asked,
when the string of his tongue was loosed, and he had
shown himself to be a good-tempered and sympathetic, as
well as a well-informed and interesting man.
" Where stood the tent of your mother when you were
270 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
born, how old are you, where did you spend your youth,
and what are you doing here ? "
" I was born in Lhasa, and at a very early age entered
the Sera monastery as a novice. I am now 40 years old,
and I have been chosen by the Devashung to put in order
and manage the affairs of Daba-dzong. I have, then, as
you must have seen from the papers on the table, quite
enough to do, and you must excuse me if I cannot give you
as much of my time as I should like. You wish to see the
monastery. A lama has already been ordered to show you
everything. Let me know if I can do anything else for
you."
When I had thanked him for his kindness, he said,
suddenly :
" This is a lucky year. You have seen how it has
rained. The harvest will turn out well, the grass is
shooting up in the valleys and the nomads will have a
good winter. You know, of course, the great water festival
in Lhasa, from hearsay at least ? Well, when the rains
fail this festival is held with great state to mollify the
heavens. This year the water festival will be a simpler
ceremony, for the rain is coming of itself."
I understood his meaning ; we too know that
When the Devil was sick, the Devil a monk would be ;
When the Devil was well, the devil a monk was he !
Our conversation was interrupted by some Hindu
merchants and their Tibetan customers, who had fallen into
a dispute about a commercial bargain. Tugden Nima, the
judge, not the abbot, waited in silence until the contending
parties had exhausted the whole stock of ugly words the
Tibetan language contains.
Meanwhile I could look a little round the room, which,
after the desolate regions where I had lived for so many
months, seemed palatial. The walls were covered with
Chinese paintings on paper, and bookshelves almost break-
ing under the weight of the holy scriptures. On the altar
table small statues of the gods smiled in silver and copper
cases, and the light of flickering flames burning in bowls fell
on their faces. The usual Lamaist furnishings, the bells,
A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY 271
dorches or thunderbolts of brass, the prayer-mill and other
religious objects, were also present. Over the door hune
a portrait of the Emperor William, a coloured print which
had somehow found its way to Daba-dzong.
But both Tugden Nima and myself had other things
to think of, so I rose, took my leave and went out to the
market, where I was again most unexpectedly reminded of
Germany. A Hindu came to me, bowed and said :
" Salaam, Sahib. Will you take me into your service ?
I have been employed by Europeans before."
" No, thank you ; I have just sent off six servants, and
I do not want any more."
" Do take me ! I will show you a testimonial given
me by a European whom I served a long time."
And with that he brought out a folded yellow paper.
I read it quickly through, and then asked him, " How old
are you } "
" Forty years."
" Well, this testimonial was written fifty-three years
ago, according to its date."
" Yes, you see, it was my brother who actually received
it, and he is much older than I."
" If you will sell me the testimonial, you can make a few
rupees by it."
" No, Sahib, I will not sell it ; it is a very valuable
document,"
He was right. I would have kept it as an autograph.
It contained a few lines of thanks in English to a certain
Mance, who had provided a European expedition with
excellent sturdy coolies. And the classical names sub-
scribed below were " Adolph and Robert Schlagintweit,
Badinath, September 5, 1855." The testimonial had
therefore been drawn up two years before the murder of
Adolph Schlagintweit in Kashgar.
Now we toil up a narrow steep gully in the freakish
slope of the pebble bed to reach the level terrace in front
of Daba-gompa. An old lama comes to meet us ; he is
charged to show us the monastery and the temple halls.
First he conducts us into a forecourt, partly roofed over.
Here we see the usual arrangement, the portal of the
272 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Ikakang, with its red door panels decorated with iron and
brass mounts, the blue pillars attached to the wall on the
sides, and yellow and pink draperies above.
The lama is about to unlock the door and take us in,
but I restrain him and take out my sketch-book and small
paint-box. The portal and its surroundings are too inter-
esting. The four spirit kings are at their posts. The
figures are coarsely painted, with little art, and, judged by
the faded colouring and the gaps caused by the fall of the
distemper, fairly old. In the corner to the left lie heaps of
discarded streamers, temple draperies, kadakhs and strips of
coloured cloth all dusty and time-worn, torn by the winds
of the highlands or bleached by burning sun. A cracked
drum stands silent in its stand ; a rotten table can no
longer bear the weight of heavy images ; two stools which
have lost a leg are left to perish, and some temple vessels
of copper and brass can no longer resist verdigris and
corruption.
Now the red doors are opened and the mouldy close
darkness of the Ihakang or cka7?ikang, as this, the principal
hall of the gods is called, stands before us. Chhortens are
erected on either side of a Chamba statue, the one on the
left called Pochoge-kudung, the other on the right covered
with gold. Other images are faultlessly arranged in
regular ranks on tables and shelves between vessels for
offerings and lamp-bowls. The truths of Lamaism lie on
dark sheets of paper between their old wooden covers,
wrapped in green and blue cloths. The holy legends
are to be read in coloured pictures amid a forest of
tankas, and the usual strips of cloth are wound round the
pillars.
A smaller hall is called Lama-lhakang, after Yabyan
Shin Tibi, a priest who is supposed to have founded the
monastery at the time when the walls of Tashi-lunpo were
reared. However that may be, his ashes are said to be
contained in the large ckkortcn, Lami-kudung, which stands
in the middle of the hall. Sitting statues of Tsong Kapa,
three feet high, protect the dust of the deceased saint, and
the reformer can enjoy the sight of coloured artificial flowers
in vases. Here, too, stand cast idols in close rows, and
107- The Village of Dara.
t:-\ 'V^-
loS. Terrace in DAi!A-(;oMr\.
A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY 273
among the temple vessels four silver beakers with one foot
are conspicuous.
I have very great doubts whether my honest Lob-
sang is strong in the faith. But he might be seen
humbly making his rounds in the terrestrial Valhalla of
Lamaism, and throwing himself down before every one
of these golden idols, so that his forehead touched the floor
of hard-stamped clay. He even begged our lama to be
allowed to keep a kadakh that he might have a good
journey to India in its blessed atmosphere. My dear
Lobsang was much too sound in mind to believe in this
hocus-pocus. But he did not wish to hurt the feelings of
the old lama, so he observed the outward forms and
practices of the religion he had inherited from his parents.
A third temple, the dukang, was closed, and the lama
who had the key happened to be in one of the adjacent
valleys, looking after the salvation of a dying nomad to the
best of his ability.
Daba-gompa belongs to the Gelugpa sect, and its
brotherhood consists of fifteen monks. They are of the
Gelong and Getsul orders, and only Tugden Nima has
attained the rank of Kanpo Lama.
Though it is small, the monastery vividly reminds me
of Tashi-lunpo. Here also we find a collection of stone
houses, which produce a pleasing effect. The walls are
painted red, here and there relieved by white panels. The
chmnkang is covered with a roof jutting out into curved
angles after the Chinese style. The greater part of its
original gilding has been washed away by the monsoon
rains. Streamers flutter on the roofs, and bells hang at all
the projecting corners with feathers tied to their clappers.
The slightest breeze that breathes over Daba-gompa calls
forth from this carillon a melodious symphony that speaks
of peace.
How willingly we linger by the hour in this remarkable
picturesque monastery ! From whichever side we behold
it new surprises meet our eyes. Like eagles' eyries, a
row of white houses with red and blue friezes and wmdow
frames hangs above the village down in the valley ; in
them are the cells of the yellow confraternity. The greyish
T
274 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
yellow pebble terrace with its countless shafts and pyramids
makes an effective background to the particoloured houses.
The parts illumined by the sun stand out sharp and strong,
while the shadows are faint owing to the reflexion from
all sides ; only the deeply-eroded vertical furrows between
the pillars are black.
Now summer reigns in the Daba valley. Summer is
the time of life and movement. Then the Hindus of Niti-
rong bring their goods over the mountains and trade in
the fair of the Tibetans. During late autumn life gradually
declines. Then follows winter when the Himalayan passes
are closed, and, cut off from communications, Daba is left
in solitude. The cloister brothers spend their lonely days
in the white houses and hold services in the dim temple
halls. They see the snow fall in thick flakes, and listen to
the mystical dialogue between the wind and the bells.
But the noisy chatter of the rocky bed and the Sutlej, their
Langchen-kamba or Elephant river, does not reach their
ears.
Evening draws on and we begin the descent, but we
must linger once more at the steep wall where half a dozen
chhorte7is of fine and stately form stand, having an air of
antiquity owing to the commencement of decay. A cubical
foundation with plinth and ornamentation bears a con-
tracted cupola with an onion-shaped turret ending in a
gilded crescent encircling a disc. They are painted red,
white, and greyish-blue, and on the sides two horses are
portrayed.
The shades of evening fall early on the village of
Daba ; a pale light illumines the fa9ades and groups of
houses, while the eastern side of the valley is lighted up
a little longer by the rays of the setting sun.
The Hindus have their regular abode just opposite
Daba-dzong, in a small house with an open platform in
the court in front of the building. There the men from
Niti were assembled, and their expressive songs charmed
our ears as we went home in the twilight.
" Come up to us for a time. Sahib, listen to our songs,
and watch the dances," one of our new friends asked us.
Very gladly. A carpet was laid down for me, and as a
log. Chhortens in Daba-gompa seen from above.
no. The Village ok Daba wnii the Monastery.
A PICTURESQUE MONASTERY 275
gift of welcome two dishes were handed to me piled up with
grains of rice and sugar, which I more than paid for in cash.
Two men sang some unintelligible words, accompany-
ing themselves on drums which looked like hour-glasses,
and which they beat with their fingers. In front of them
a pretty brown young maiden, with smoothly combed
black hair, black dreamy eyes, and silver rings in her
nostrils, danced a whirling circling dance. She had thrown
a pink transparent veil carelessly over her hair, and wore
a black jacket, a white skirt which stood out from her hips
like an open parasol, and closely fitting trousers tied round
the ankles. Her prettily formed bare feet turned round
swiftly and gracefully in the dance.
The darkness came down on us. The camp-fire spread
a bright light down by the bank. All the poor of Daba
waited patiently for my return, and received small presents.
Lastly, Suen danced round the fire, and the songs of the
Ladakis sounded cheerfully in the cold valley.
CHAPTER XXIII
IN THE SANCTUARY OF THE MANGNANG MONASTERY
Though Simla lies almost due west of Daba, the road
runs for several days' march to the north and north-west,
and passes along tributaries between regions which are
quite impassable for man and beast. There is no possi-
bility of advancing along the shortest way marked out by
the Sutlej. We remember the appearance of the river
bed below the monastery Kyung-lung. The irresistible
mass of water dashed with a deafening roar between
vertical and overhanging cliffs of solid rock. We must
cross the Sutlej four times more before we come to Simla,
and at every crossing we shall gain a fresh insight into the
secrets of the remarkable valley. Where the rocks reach
out towards each other, and where the river, narrow and
squeezed together, tumbles between them, there only
has it been possible to construct a bridge, and only there
do we see the Elephant river. Its rule, however, extends
over the whole Himalayan region which we traverse.
A short distance between the cliffs on either side is
not the only condition demanded for bridging over the
river. Such places are numerous. We may be sure that
the Sutlej fiows all the way in a deep trough. Wet shin-
ing ramparts of rock descend from colossal heights to its
banks. Long reaches of the river have never been seen
by human eye. The wild sheep can find no way to them,
and the chamois has nothing to attract him thither. Only
rock pigeons, falcons, and eagles know the deep, shady,
and cold vault-like corridors where the river tosses without
rest or pause. No, the Tibetan road and river engineer-
276
o >,
CHAP. XXIII THE MANGNANG MONASTERY 277
ing corps demands also for bridge-building that the shore
supports of the bridge-head shall lie only a few feet above
the water, for usually the road follows the valleys of
tributaries and avoids all ridges and crests that are difficult
of access.
On the road to Daba we are during two days'
journey at a distance of six to ten miles from the Sutlej,
and not till the third day do we approach the river at a
sharp angle. But even the smallest side valley is imbued
with its spirit. The rain of the south-west monsoon,
which washes these rocks and terraces, is tributary to the
Sutlej and is bound to trace back the course of this river
from its own home, the Indian Ocean. During our
journey I always longed to see the main river, but had to
patiently wind along the terrible detours between the
bridges.
The mountain land south of the Sutlej is Hundes
proper ; Chumurti lies north of the river. Both are
characterized by their canons, their fearfully wild vertical
sculpture. The Ladak and the Zaskar ranges gradually
diverge, and therefore the affluents become longer, and
probably on the whole more voluminous. After a single
traverse, however, no law can be laid down as regards
this. The rain is unequally distributed. A small tributary
may rise until it overflows after sharp local downpours,
and a larger one may fall considerably after a couple of
bright days.
From Daba we have to mount again up to the heights
which separate us from the next side valley. The road
crawls up the gully cut out in the terraces just above the
village. Consequently the friendly monastery vanishes
out of sight at once, as we turn northwards into such a
steep trench that the loads are always slipping off as the
animals struggle up. The men push behind, shouting and
whistling. Yonder one of our horses has stopped with his
load hanging under his belly, and a long halt follows.
Two minutes more and another load is almost off". The
soil of this torrent bed, only six feet wide, is yellow clay,
so that we are nearly choked with the dust the animals
kick up. On either side pillars and blocks of rolled stone.
278 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
60-100 feet high, rise perpendicularly or hang over in a
threatening manner. Now we do fairly well, but this road
must be delightful after continuous rain. Then there is
danger of being struck down by falling stones and boulders,
then the viscous plastic clay is smooth as soap, then neither
man nor beast can keep his feet, and if any one falls he
slides with alarming rapidity down to the bottom of a
grand toboggan.
Scarcely have we reached the top when the path,
perhaps the most capricious in the world, takes us down
again into a gully which opens into a medium-sized valley.
A small brook trickles down its bed. There is no wind
here. A touch of the sun of India lies over this desolate
disintegrated country. Horses and mules make for the
brook to drink. The men scoop up water with their hands
and pour it over their heads and faces.
After thus refreshing ourselves, we ascend another
rolling mountain, but only to plunge down again into the
next valley. This, too, is watered by a rivulet which has
produced a narrow strip of grass. Ruins of old houses, a
row of chhortens, two small barley-fields and a brook are the
sights of the next valley. Then follows a labyrinth of
small valleys and furrows, an inextricable confusion of all
kinds of troughs, some of which we cross right over, and
others come in contact with only at their heads where they
are not cut deeply into the ground. A larger dale winds
off north-eastwards, and the descent into it is so steep that
two loads slip over the heads of the animals, which have
to stand with their noses to the ground until help comes.
A last rise separated us from the valley Manlung,
where we had had enough for one day. Here also stood
a hut to protect the barley on the fields which are watered
by a rivulet from a spring. I would have travelled further
but I yielded to my men's desire for rest. The good living
in Daba had made them heavy and lazy; of course they
had eaten as much tsamba and mutton as they could force
down and a little more.
Just at mid-day the sun was burning hot, but half an
hour later the sky grew dark in the south and the monsoon
again drove heavy masses of cloud over the Himalayas. A
A I,
112. Wall of Daba-gompa.
OIK -^-^
d*^.
-->.:
7^-
1*
c fat
113. Chhortens at Daba.
Sketches by the Author.
THE MANGNANG MONASTERY 279
distant murmur is heard ; it becomes louder ; a hailstorm
comes ; it rushes down upon us, and the air is immediately-
cool and fresh. As soon as the hail is over steady rain
commences. We had been warned at Daba of the Mang-
nang-tsangpo. This river swells up after heavy rain so
that it cannot be forded. It would be pleasant if, on
reaching its bank, we had to stop waiting for days, when
we were so anxious to reach India.
August 12 broke clear after a minimum of 45° in the
night. The rain had cooled the air and the Mangnang-
tsangpo would not prove an obstacle to our march. As
usual we had to climb a steep slope ; we always camp at
the bottom of a valley and travel straight across innumer-
able valleys. Another chaos of troughs and then a rapid
descent between yellow colonnades carved out fantastically
in the detritus down into the narrow Anggong valley,
where a brook is ensconced between grassy banks.
A horseman flies past us without answering when we
inquire his destination. A second follows at a quick trot,
his saddle-bags bulged out with their contents. He, too,
has no intention of detaining us. The destination of both
is evidently Totling. Perhaps this large convent is the
stone in our way which will trip us up. At Tokchen the
authorities wished to drive us back into the interior of the
country. We must wait and see if the men of Totling have
the assurance to do the same, so near the frontier.
The small Anggong brook soon enters the large Mang-
nang valley, and even from the junction of the two valleys
we can hear in the distance the roar of a great river. We
make a circuit to the left and south-west and cross many
waterless but still wet beds, with their banks sparsely
begrown with bushes. The river with its rapid raging
current and its breadth of 72 yards was formidable, but
it was easy to ford at a place where its 700 cubic feet of
water was distributed among four arms. We had now
passed 8500 cubic feet of water in the tributaries of the
Sutlej. With the addition of the water running in on the
opposite side the Sutlej must here carry 16,000 or even
17,500 cubic feet.
Glad to have the obstacle we had been warned of safely
28o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
behind us, we pitched camp 470 on a meadow by the left
bank close to the monastery Mangnang-gompa, which,
curiously enough, is built on the level valley floor and not
on the heights above, as is the case with most convents.
It is eleven o'clock, and we have the day before us. Little
we care though thunder rolls among the Himalayas
and heavy clouds congregate in dark blue cumuli over the
southern mountains. We shall be caught by the first drops,
but it is only a couple of strides to the forecourt of the
monastery. Just as we have got under cover the rain
begins and pelts all day on to the ground.
The village of Mangnang contains three or four simple
huts surrounded by walls, and stands in the midst of larger
and more thriving barley-fields than we have hitherto seen.
In five weeks the scythe will sever the corn, and the crop
is sure for this year, even if the rain stops altogether. Ten
days ago the river was much swollen and could not be
forded without danger. The distance to its source on the
slopes of the snow-clad mountains of the Gangman-gangri
is reckoned to be three short days' marches.
We are at a height of 13, 176 feet, and are 1880 feet lower
than the Rakas-tal lake. Here we come to the upper limit
of arboreal vegetation, and we greet the first heralds of the
Himalayan forests in the form of a green grove of a dozen
leafy poplars beside the village. If the whole country as
far as sight can reach were not overshadowed by rain-
clouds, I would have my tent set up under the crowns of
the trees ; I should delight in the pale green subdued light
that filters through the foliage, and would listen to the
rustle of twigs and leaves that seems to speak of home.
The traveller from India here takes leave of the last grove,
and never sees a tree again till he comes to Ladse-dzong
and Ye-shung in the far east, or to Chushul and Tankse,
if he marches westwards. But if he directs his steps north-
wards, through Chang-tang, he finds the shadow of a tree
only when he reaches the oases of Eastern Turkestan.
Mangnang-changchugling-gompa, what a charming,
appropriate name for a hermitage where the days are long
and there is time enough to spare ! The monastery turns
its rose-coloured walls to the outer world, and the stranger
THE MANGNANG MONASTERY
2«I
is agreeably surprised to find a large, richly -decorated
Ikakang within. Eight pillars of sound timber support the
roof, and in the nave between them we see for the fiftieth
time the red divans on which the monks sit cross-legged as
they murmur their prayers during the services. The prior
has a special seat at the upper end of the row. Hangings,
painted banners and pennants hang from the ceiling and
pillars like trophies of a holy war. The theological library
consists of the Kanjur scriptures, while the 208 folios of the
Tanjur2,x^ only found in monasteries of the rank of Totling-
gompa. Fresco paintings in fresh sober colours cover the
walls, and the pictures exhibit an artistic sense that is not
without merit.
A host of 330 divine images is placed on the altar table ;
the reader will find them depicted on a coloured plate in
Vol. H. p. 406. There we see Tsong Kapa in three copies,
all adorned with cloth caps. They are made of brass, but
the dust of years and the smoke of guttering butter wicks
have covered them with a black film. The monks of the
monastery asserted that these images had been made on
the spot by a lama skilled in metal work, but this state-
ment is doubtful. Perhaps he only repaired some broken
images.
Above all the rest and behind them a huge rosy red
statue of Buddha stands in the shaft of light from the
impluvium. His eyes stare into the hall, his lips are
swollen, his cheeks stand out, and his long ears are partly
covered with a veil. His hands he holds laid palm to palm
as if in prayer, but they are entirely hidden in a kadakk,
the offering of pious pilgrims. A subdued light, contrasting
with the gloom which prevails in the hall, falls on his face,
a gleam of the Nirvana in which the unapproachable
princely son of the Sakya tribe dreams in solemn silent
repose.
" Let me buy some of your gods," I begged one of
the monks who showed the deities.
" You would be welcome to do so if every article in
the Mangnang Ihakang were not ticketed with a number,
which is entered in the inventory of the monastery. A
strict check is kept ; and when a new prior comes he at
282 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
once inspects all the movable property of the monastery
and looks if anything is wanting. If anything has been
taken away his predecessor must replace it. Therefore
we cannot sell you the smallest cloth."
Red, yellow, and brown cloths covered the front of the
altar table. Only the boldly carved feet on which the
table rests were visible ; two brazen cymbals, an important
instrument in church music, leaned against them. Lamps
burned not before the altar table but on a table at one
side. New wicks were placed in the butter, all the bowls
were filled with grains of rice and water, and the brazen
vessels shone like gold, A cloister brother was sweeping
the earthen floor, but was kind enough to stop when I
asked him to let the dust settle a while. On the outer
court also besoms were flying about.
" You are surely preparing for a festival ? " I asked.
" No, we are expecting a Kanpo Lama from Lhasa.
He is to relieve the prior of Totling, whose four years of
service are at an end. On his journey thither the new
prior inspects all the monasteries on the road through
Ngari-khorsum, so we sweep and clean inside and out to
give a good impression."
" But you keep the yearly church festivals in Mang-
nang ? "
" No ; for the great festivals we go, like the lamas of
Daba and Dongbo, to Totling."
" To which mother cloister is Mangnang affiliated .'* "
" The Brebung monastery near Lhasa."
" But you belong to Tsong Kapa's yellow sect, the
Gelugpa ? "
" Yes, certainly."
To the red carved door-posts in the antechamber, the
Diikang-gumchor, some small bronze gods, were irreverently
hung by strings, an arrangement I have never seen else-
where. The four spirit kings, called collectively Galchen
Dirgi, are represented on the walls with force and elegance.
I sat for hours, painting in water-colours, in the Ihakang
of Mangnang, where silence hovered with motionless wings
over the assemblage of deities. Subdued colours, dreamy
eyes, gently smiling lips ; trombones and drums which
114 IvAVI.NE ON THE WAY TO TOTLING.
115 Daba.
r
XXIII THE MANGNANG MONASTERY 283
could make a noise but were now dumb ; a spider lazily
climbing up its thread which hung down from the ceiling
— all had a soporific effect on my senses. Outside was
heard the swish of the steadily falling rain. Lobsang, who
had held a long conversation with a lama, at last fell
asleep, and slumbered like an innocent child, leaning
against a pillar and sitting with wide-spread legs on a
divan, properly intended for use in divine service. He
dreamed of the fearful winter in Chaig-tang, which lay
behind us, or of the summer of India, to which we drew
nearer every day. His deep breathing made the silence
still more striking. I seemed as though shut up in a
burial vault waiting until the breathing was over that I too
might fall asleep. Why did not ghostly forms come forth
from the dark corners of the temple hall ? Why did not
the divinities in the mural paintings step down and execute
incantation dances before the altar? Eternal Buddha, un-
fathomable deity on thy throne in the cup of the lotus
flower, why didst thou not utter words of wisdom in this
sanctuary erected in thine honour ?
My eyes turn from the haloes of the gods to the brush
and paper. I look round. Lobsang's head is nearly slip-
ping ofT its resting-place, and he sleeps with open mouth
as soundly as a dormouse. Iaq lama, with whom he had
been talking, sits upright, and in silence lets the beads of
his rosary slip through his fingers. I begin unconsciously
to whistle, as though to give a rhythmical swing to my
sketching. But then the lama rises, comes gently up, and
begs me not to disturb the peace of the sanctuary.
The light that falls on Buddha's face grows fainter, for
the evening advances with rapid strides.
"Good morning, Lobsang! " I call out so loudly that
the lama, but just now motionless as Buddha, starts and
drops his rosary. Lobsang yawns and rubs his eyes. We
go out into the rain.
" Who rest here ? " I ask our lama as we pass by some
large chhortens.
" Monks of high rank who have died and been cremated
in Mangnang."
He tells me that after the bodies have been consumed
284 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxm
on the pyres the ashes are mixed with moist clay and
kneaded into small figures called tsatsa, which are of the
form of a cylinder and a cone in one. On every tsatsa,
while it is still moist, some sacred word or sentence is
printed with a stamp. The ashes of a dead man suffice to
make a couple of thousand tsatsa, which are deposited in
a hollow of the solid base of the chhorten. This chhorten
is therefore the grave of the dead man as well as his
monument.
Darkness descends on Mangnang, and soon the shadows
of night draw their veil over the countenance of Buddha.
Some poor small children, only half-clothed in rags, accom-
pany me down to the camp to get a piece of bread and a
copper. And then night opens its arms to receive ceno-
bites and pilgrims, and we for some hours wander through
the fairyland of dreams and oblivion.
CHAPTER XXIV
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL
Immediately below the cloister village the road winds up
three sharply marked terraces which all indicate former
levels of the valley of the tributary. Up on the top the
road takes a bend to north and north-east ; it is tiresome,
when Simla lies to the west. But the road must accom-
modate itself to the configuration of the country and
creep through where the land presents no insurmountable
obstacles.
Suddenly our small party comes to a halt on the edge
of a fearfully deep valley, a canon which is one of the
right-hand branches of a whole system of gigantic erosion
troughs. From the edge we look down perpendicularly
into a dizzy depth of several hundred yards. The whole
precipice is seen foreshortened, and we get an excellent
notion of its different beds of varying thickness, vertical
where the material is hard, and with a very slanting dip
where it is looser ; down at the bottom the last detritus
fan passes into the floor of the narrow channel. The
uppermost layer on which we stand consists of a bed
of reddish-brown detritus i6 feet thick. The wind blows
over its level surface and its sides are vertical. From one
convenient spot we can catch a glimpse of its lower limit,
for the underlying bed of yellow clay is softer and more
easily attacked by denudation. The detritus bed, there-
fore, projects forward like a cornice from which loosened
blocks threaten to fall at any moment.
On the top from which the descent commences we are
at an absolute height of 13,176 feet. The scene before
28s
286 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
our eyes is truly wonderful, and no pen can describe its
extraordinary forms. A yellow map is unrolled beneath
our feet ; a labyrinth of deep, precipitous erosion valleys,
corridors, and trenches, separated by wedge-shaped blocks
of pebble and clay. Thanks to the expansion round
Totling, the Sutlej is visible to the north, but at this dis-
tance its line of foaming rapids looks only like a fine
thread. We think we can perceive that below Totling and
Tsaparang, which cannot be distinguished at so great a
distance, the Sutlej valley again contracts to a narrow
ravine. But where does the path run ? Is it possible to
get down through this maze and along these declivities
without breaking a limb ?
From the point on the edge where the cairn stands we
plunge down headlong. The scene changes at every
bend of this sharply winding zigzag path. We slide
down slopes, creep almost all round hillocks and boulders,
nay, must often toil up again to find a less steep descent,
and then go down once more. On the whole the path
runs north-west, though at times we are walking south-
east— indeed, towards all points of the compass.
The spacious landscape we have seen from the top
vanishes at once when we are buried in the deep canon
excavated with fantastic irregularity in a typical deposit of
loss. We are, therefore, enclosed between yellow pre-
cipitous walls of clay, and regard with astonishment a
confusion of yellow towers, walls, and castles standing, as
it were, in the narrow lane of an enchanted town.
Now the path lies like a narrow shelf on a precipitous
slope and below us yawns a dry ravine. The fine powdery
dust rises in yellow clouds behind the hoofs of our animals.
This road is impassable after rain. We were afterwards
told so at Totling, but we could see ourselves that it
must be so. On all sides there are perfect tobogganing
slides. How slippery they must be when all this clay is
wet !
The free outlook we enjoyed on the shelf was lost
again when the road crept down into a very deep trough
between walls of loss loo feet high. Loose dust lay on
the bottom, on which we seemed to walk as on eider-
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 287
down cushions. Above our heads only a narrow strip of
sky was visible.
Then it grows lighter again. On the left the wall of
clay is still perpendicular, but it is interrupted on the right,
or is replaced, by a row of yellow pillars and cubical blocks
forming a loggia, a gallery, which affords through its loop-
holes a view over the Sutlej valley. How often I should
like to stop and sketch on the way ! But it is better to
hurry on. The sky is dull, rain may come, and then we
should be stuck fast.
Now we bend round an isolated conical hill and crawl
along a ridge between two trenches. The next moment
we cross some trenches. We walk up and down hill, to
right and left, through dust and vapour. The animals
manage splendidly. The loads slip off only twice, causing
stoppages.
Step by step we work our way down through the loss
bed, coming to older and older horizons of the immense
filled - up basin. In two hours we have moved down
deposits which must have taken at least ten thousand
years to accumulate. We have gained a grand insight
into the work of the forces of denudation and accumula-
tion during earlier periods.
The bed of detritus above, which covers the whole
as with a mantle, must certainly increase in thickness
towards the foot of the mountains and thin out towards
the Sutlej. Under this bed we see a series of different
deposits, and at the bottom of all occurs rock in situ, which,
however, crops out only on the banks of the Sutlej.
If we could clear away all this loose alluvium, we
should see a flat open strath between the Ayi-la in the
northern, and the Gangman - gangri in the southern,
mountains with a breadth of 60 miles. Such was this
country in a remote period when an alteration took place
in the climate, transforming everything. The climate
became dry, precipitation almost ceased, the highlands
were converted into steppe, but the wind continued its
dance over the wilderness. On its wings it bore along
the fine dust weathered from the mountains, which by
degrees fell to the earth and formed aeolian deposits. It
288 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
was long before the trough valley was filled up with a
thickness of many hundred feet. But when this filling
up was complete, Hundes had a form of surface exactly of
the same kind as the basins of China and Mongolia, which
are filled up with dust borne by the wind and which
Richthofen calls '' lossmtdden."
Such a hollow may be closed in on all sides and have
no drainage. Then all the solid matter carried by wind
and water to its centre remains within its bounds. But if
it has an outlet to the sea, like the Sutlej valley, erosion
and running water exercise their force when the time is ripe.
And in the Sutlej valley the water has again acquired
its rights. A new change of climate occurred, this time
from drought to abundant precipitation. The transition
must have extended through thousands of years. The
precipitation increased slowly and steadily, perhaps with
periodical interruptions. At last the south-west monsoon
fiooded the Himalayas with extraordinarily heavy deluges
of rain. The water collected into mighty rivers which cut
their channels vertically through the loss deposits of the
steppe period. The result is the wild dissected canon
country we have around us on all sides.
The thorough change of climatic conditions which in
Hundes and in many other parts of Asia exhibited itself
as a pluvial period with abundant precipitation, produced
in more northern regions the Great Ice Age, when
Scandinavia and extensive areas of northern Europe lay
under a mantle of ice. The pluvial period has left con-
spicuous traces, and not in Hundes only ; the huge terraces
on the banks of the Indus and the concentric beach lines
round all the salt lakes of Tibet are memorials of this
period. Then Manasarowar and Rakas-tal were filled to
overflowing, and the upper Sutlej streamed through them
constantly. But the inland ice retreated northwards and
disappeared at the time when the rainfall diminished on
the Himalayas. It seems as though the climate in the
present period were tending towards greater dryness.
We have seen that the Sutlej was cut off from Rakas-tal
barely a century ago, though this event may very well be
only a moment in a period.
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 289
Step by step and turn after turn we have worked our
way down the steep walls ; at length only a succession of
round flat hills remain before we can ride on over level or
slightly undulating ground. A streamer cairn on one of
the last hills announces the proximity of Totling-gompa.
Now the sharply limited quadrangular cloister town
appears on the left bank of the Sutlej. Is it possible?
A town in this unproductive country all of yellow clay !
Yes, truly ; yonder we see the crowded temple buildings
surmounted by Chinese roofs and the tall ckkortens, the
emblems of transitoriness and recollection. These ancient
weather - worn memorial stones of Lamaism speak of
neglect and decay. Tottering houses still defy time
among the ruins of others which have long fallen in. The
red-painted monastery buildings bear the marks of rain,
frost, and sun, and poverty peers out from the holes and
chinks of the dilapidated walls, to announce to the stranger
that Totling's period of grandeur is now only a tradition.
The monastery town is built on a terrace perhaps 60
feet above the level of the Sutlej. At the foot of this
terrace the dirty grey eddies of the great broad river roll
along with a much slower speed than at the last place we
heard their roar. A mile and a quarter higher we can
just descry the narrow, sharply cut, rocky portal from which
the river emerges, foaming and turbulent, into the ex-
pansion at Totling. This is one of the places where the
Sutlej rests on its journey. But the royal river longs for
more deeds of heroism. Immediately below Tsaparang it
renews its furious combat with the rocks.
As the most noted and perhaps also the largest of the
ecclesiastical strongholds of Tibet, Totling should have
shown itself off on our arrival by a grand procession of its
monks, clothed in red togas, and marching along as solemn
and dignified as Roman senators. But not a priest was to
be seen ; no children of the poorer classes played among
the ruins ; no horse stood tied up before a cloister cell.
Were the monks afraid of us ? Very well, we would look
them up. Not that I had anything to say to them, but
when fate had brought me to Totling, why should I
neglect the opportunity of obtaining a general impression
u
290 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
and a remembrance of its temple halls to take back with
me home ?
But look, there are three monks standing in a corner.
Cool and unembarrassed as usual, and with both hands
clasped behind his back, Lobsang walks up to them and
asks :
" Have you heard whether a messenger is come from
Gartok ? Our Sahib expects one from Thakur Jai
Chand."
" We do not keep a look-out for your messenger," a
lama answered drily and coldly.
" Whose is the white tent that stands yonder outside
the village ? "
" Go and find out for yourself."
With imperturbable composure Lobsang turns his back
on the priests. Our friend, Samye Karmo, who is now
staying in Totling, but keeps out of our way, has evidently
announced that we were on the way and were travelling
without a passport. The monastery authorities are there-
fore prepared, and have put themselves in a state of
defence.
Two roads meet at Totling, the one along v\^hich we
have travelled from Tirtapuri, and the highroad from
Gartok to Simla. The latter is open for trade between
India and Tibet, and Totling is consequently an important
place, and its authorities are wont to exercise control over
travellers. I had a premonition that this place might be a
stone of stumbling to us, and the conduct of the only three
monks we had seen promised nothing good. It seemed as
though the lay and clerical inhabitants of the village had
received orders not to show themselves to us. The
authorities would wait to see what we on our part meditated
doing. The three monks were only spies who wished to
find out what we looked like at a little distance.
The caravan pitched camp 471 at the foot of the terrace
on the river-bank. I remained above with my satellites
and my sketch-book. After looking about in vain for a
suitable guide, we passed through two gates into an open
irregular court faced by several temple buildings and
dwelling-houses. It was no use to be nice about our
XXIV HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 291
seats on this ground bestrewn with dirt and sweepings, I
had to sit somewhere in order to draw a portal with a
projecting balcony supported by pillars and adorned with
painted figures in many colours. Monks, novices, and
lay attendants peeped through windows and loopholes
and crawled one after another from their dens to observe
more closely this impudent proceeding.
What a priesthood ! So dirty, so uncivilized, and so
unapproachable ! Water they never thought of, though
the proud Sutlej flowed just under their noses. Their
bodies were covered with rags ripe for the dust -heap.
The togas, once red, hung round them in dark greasy
tatters, harbouring dirt and vermin. The inhabitants of
Totling are as wretched and debased as those of the
monastery. It was no more than I had expected of this
frontier fortress of religion on the highroad in western
Tibet.
They stand in a compact group, silent and motionless,
and their eyes follow my pencil attentively. If I address
a question to them, they do not answer ; if I press them,
they say they do not know ; if I ask them to sell us a
sheep or some tsamba, they shake their heads in refusal ;
if I ask to speak with the prior, they only laugh scornfully ;
and if I order them to open the doors of the temple hall,
they shrug their shoulders and go away, I had never met
with such unfriendly monks before except in Targyaling,
Lunkar, and Dongbo, And I should like to add that such
passive stand-offishness is the extreme form of unfriendli-
ness lamas ever display. They never give way to
abusive words and insults. At any rate I have never met
with blackguardly treatment in Tibet.
I get up and walk to the labrang, a large house of
several storeys. Its windows and balconies are like those
of Tashi-lunpo and, like them, are partially hidden under
black curtains with horizontal white stripes. An Indian
trader, the owner of the white tent, salutes me politely.
" Have you heard whether a messenger from Gartok
is waiting for me here ? "
"No, Sahib; if one had come, I should certainly have
heard."
292 TRANS-HIMALAYA
" Have you any edibles to sell ? "
" No, Sahib; but if you like to buy a hundred cigarettes,
the last I have, you are welcome to them."
I was glad to do so, for my tobacco was at an end.
I had just finished the outlines of the fa9ade, sketched
in two balconies and was engaged at a third, when a
servant came out of the door, walked straight up to me,
and said :
" Come with me up into the labrangT
" Certainly. Does the Kanpo Lama wish to speak to
me ?
" No, the prior is not at home ; he has been living for
some days in a tent outside the monastery."
"Who is it, then, who wishes to see me?"
" The Changtso."
We now learn that this potentate is a kind of superin-
tendent of the secular and business affairs of the monastery,
and has his office up a staircase in the labrang.
I left off drawing, and with my men followed the
messenger up the stairs and through a dark passage to a
small long room with a paper window looking out into
the monastery court.
Here sits His Excellency, the Changtso, on a divan
behind a red lacquered table and a brass-bound box. He
sits like a stern inflexible judge, and seems to be waiting
until the criminal is brought before him. I think I see
him now ; his portrait is indelibly impressed on my
memory. I feel that I am smiling at this ridiculous figure,
this fat, sleek, and wrathful spirit-king in human form, who
sits before me so arrogant and so puffed up like a bull-frog,
ready to keep off any demons or Europeans from the
sacred halls of Totling by his grim and awful countenance.
The substratum of the Changtso was concealed by the
table and chest, and the rest of his sleek body shone with
fat and grease. He had a violet vest drawn over his
shoulders, which left a pair of fat arms exposed ; a Chinese
skull-cap surmounted his bullet-shaped head. His brows
were knitted in deep wrinkles, and beneath his forelock his
eyes flashed with ire. His nose was as round as a potato,
and his lips were fleshy — what juicy curses could pour out
r''
\
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 293
of them ! His cheeks were as full as those of a trumpeting
angel, and beautified by thin grey whiskers, which had an
indescribably comical effect in a country of beardless men.
Yes, there he sat, the Changtso, and I stood before him in
Tibetan costume, but with folders on my nose, and felt at
the moment farther from India than on the day I set out
from Tokchen.
" Aha, you old scoundrel ! " I thought to myself; " you
may make a show of your power and authority for a time,
but you will have to knuckle down in the end. You do
not bend your head, you give me no word of greeting, you
do not invite me to take a seat on the ragged cushion in
the window. All right; I will sit down for all that, for I,
too, can be bumptious when necessary, and it is no use
your trying to cow me with your greyish-brown, red-rimmed,
rolling eyes."
Lobsang and Kutus, who at my orders sat themselves
down at the door, felt very small in the presence of this
churl. But I felt inclined for sport and had no intention
of suppressing my feelings. Look out, Changtso ! Tibet
is all behind me, and I have only a few days' journey more
to the Indian frontier. Try to scare me back to Gartok,
if you can. By the earrings of Sakya-toba, you shall not
succeed.
The spirit-king began his interrogation. I had ex-
pected a voice which would roll like thunder through the
small chamber, but he spoke in a low tone without expres-
sion, which made him still more forbidding.
"Where do you come from ? "
" From Chang-tang, from Tashi-lunpo, from the labrang
of the Tashi Lama, from Tashi-gompa, from Tso-mavang " ;
and I came out with a whole string of names which I
gabbled like a lesson learned by heart.
" I know it. You have been with the Tashi Lama,
you have sailed your boat on Tso-mavang, and you have
been turned out by an order from Lhasa, and have to
leave Tibet by the great highroad to Ladak. I know
everything."
" Then questions are unnecessary."
" 1 wish also to know why you have returned to Tibet,
294 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
which is closed to Europeans, and I want to know what
you are doing here, in TotHng."
" You wish to know this and to know that, and I intend
to travel all about Tibet. No one has been able to stop
me yet from wandering where I would. You may try it,
but you will suffer for it."
" Have you a passport from Lhasa .f* "
"No."
" Then you have no right to show yourself in Totling."
" No, none. And for that very reason it is incumbent
on me to leave the country by the shortest way to India."
" We will see about that. First of all I will take down
some notes. What is your name ? "
" Sven Hedin."
"That I know."
" Then why do you ask me } "
"To check my information. It is my duty to know
what kind of people pass through Totling, especially when
they are travelling without passports. What is the name
of your country ? "
" Svidingve."
" Right ! How many men and baggage animals have
you I*
" Six men and ten baggage animals."
"That agrees. I shall send this very day a report
about you to Lhasa. Why have you just drawn the temple
gate and the labrang} "
" To take the drawings with me as a remembrance of
Totling, and to show my countrymen what things are like
here."
" No one is privileged to draw anything here. I have
no mind to lose my head on your account. You have
sketched Dongbo, Daba, and Mangnang also. The monks
who permitted such things will be punished."
" You will perhaps leave Tugden Nima alone ? "
" Show me your drawings."
" With pleasure I " I answered, handing him the case in
which I had only two loose sheets, that a shower of rain
might not spoil all. He took out a sheet and asked :
" What does this represent.'*"
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 295
" The temple portal out there."
"This is not a temple portal."
" No, certainly not, when it is held upside down."
** I shall keep your drawings."
" Then you are a thief."
" It is you who act as a thief when you go about drawing
without permission. However, you may have the temple
portal, but I shall keep the labrangT
" Listen to me, Changtso ; you had better be civil.
Beware of the Tashi Lama ; he is my friend, and I may
complain of you to him. You are a Gelugpa, so take care ! "
"It is true that I am a Gelugpa, but in secular affairs
I obey no one but the Dalai Lama and the Devashung. I
have nothing to do with the Tashi Lama."
" I have come here to inspect the temple halls of
Totling. Be so good as to order all the doors to be
opened."
" Ha, ha, ha ! A European in the temple halls of
Totling ! No, never ! "
He lent back on his divan and laughed and snarled
and laughed in his cold room like an old tom-cat. But he
had thawed a little, and the thunder-cloud on his brow had
passed off.
" Can you sell us provisions, Changtso ? I pay well."
" So I have heard from Daba. I will inquire ; you
shall have an answer to-morrow. Your caravan is no
doubt well armed ? "
" We have a gun and two revolvers."
" Can I see your weapons ? "
Kutus was sent off at once to fetch our arsenal. The
Changtso became still more friendly ; he balanced the small
revolver in his hand, and said in a questioning tone :
" I should like to buy this."
" It is not for sale."
" Oh, surely ; tell me how much you want for it ; I can
pay you."
" But I do not want money. Let me see the temple
and you shall have the revolver as a present."
" No, that will not do," and he gave me back the
revolver.
296 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
"Very well, if you can do without the revolver, I can
dispense with the temple. If the inside is not better kept
up than the outside the loss is not great."
Now I had had enough of the Changtso. I rose and
departed after a polite leave-taking on both sides. A heavy
shower of rain pattered down on us as we walked down to
the tents. The sprouting barley-fields got a good drench-
ing ; yellow rivulets streamed down from the terraces and
emptied their muddy water into the Sutlej. The road we
had just traversed became impassable in a moment, and it
was lucky that we were just descending the slope.
When the day was declining I sat in my tent, looked
over the great river, and listened to the patter of the rain
on the gravel of the bank. Suddenly the neigh of a horse
was heard. A stranger appeared at the tent door. Aha !
Mohanlal, the Hindu doctor, whose acquaintance I had
made the year before in Gartok. Abdul Kerim had, then,
duly delivered my letter to Thakur Jai Chand, and he had
kindly sent Mohanlal with all the necessaries I had asked
for, and two books as well. It was August 13. Since
October 1907 I had heard no echo of the outer world.
The good Mohanlal was certainly not well posted up in the
events of the great world beyond the mountains and seas,
but it was a great pleasure to hear all he knew. He gave
me a very acceptable account of the remaining thirty
days' marches to Simla, with distances in English miles.
Twenty days earlier we had left Tokchen with the feeling
that we should soon be home. And now we had a whole
month more.
We smoked cigarettes, drank tea, ate supper, and talked
till midnight. Mohanlal was really entertaining. Among
other items he told me a tragi-comical incident which had
taken place in Gartok.
One of Thakur Jai Chand's friends on the south side of
the Himalayas had sent by a mounted messenger a request
for a loan of a thousand rupees. The money was counted
out and sewed up in a double bag, which the messenger
tied with his knapsack and clothes behind his saddle. He
set out on August 2, escorted by two servants of Thakur
Jai Chand, who were to show him the ford through the
■ ■^_5
ii6. The Ukidce of Totling.
HIS EXCELLENCY THE CHURL 297
much-swollen Gartong. The river was divided into three
arms, two of which were easily forded. Therefore the
messenger, apparently a thoughtless youth, sent the men
back and proceeded to cross the third arm, wading through
the water alone. The left bank was high, and when the
horse made ready to jump up out of the water, which was
3 feet deep, the saddle got loose and slipped down into
the stream with everything on it. The poor man began
at once to fish, and fished the whole day and all the next,
and for four days grubbed about in the mud in spite of the
rapid current. On the fifth day he found the saddle, the
garments, and the knapsack, but not the money-bag.
When Mohanlal rode past the spot the incautious and
unfortunate wight was quite in despair, and was still waiting
on the bank until the river should fall after the rainy season
and give up its booty.
The once noted Tsaparang, which stands on the left
bank of the Sutlej, just below Totling, is now even more
decayed than the monastery village. A dzong is said to
administer justice in Tsaparang, but only during two winter
months, and for the rest of the year it is removed to another
village. Only sixteen men live in the place, and grow
barley. The background consists of the high yellow loss
terraces with their fantastically modelled forms. Below
the village the Sutlej sings a ballad of a king who three
hundred years ago brandished his sceptre over the valley
and defended his kingdom with horsemen and lances.
CHAPTER XXV
THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET
An unpretentious little book lies open in front of me
during the hours I devote to my own recollections of
Totling and Tsaparang, and I can hardly keep my eyes
away from it. The book has only thirty-one pages, and
yet I had to pay eighty gulden for it in a Dutch old-book
shop. The pompous title, Novo Descobrimento do Gram
Cat kayo, ou Reinos de Tibet, pello Padre Antonio de Andrade
da Conipanhia de lesu, Portuguez, no anno de 1624. Com
todas as lie en fas necessarias. Em Lisboa, por Mattheus
Pi^theiro, Anno de 1626, is out of proportion to its contents
and size.
Do not suppose that I bought it to read. Its contents
are translated into other tongues, which are more easily
understood by readers of Germanic race. But I wished
to have the original report in my fairly complete collection
of Tibetan literature ; I wished to turn over the leaves and
to gaze on these faded reddish leaves ; I would inhale the
atmosphere around these remarkable lines, and piously
stroke my fingers over the fine dust which adheres to the
paper after a lapse of nearly three hundred years.
There is something peculiar about old books. For my
part I regard them with the deepest reverence. They are
like voices speaking from past centuries. Searching eyes,
which have scanned the printed lines, have long been
closed for ever, but the books still live. This Novo
Descobrimento still utters the same words and speaks in
the same language as in the days when King Gustavus
Adolphus reigned over Sweden. I regard this book with
298
CHAP. XXV THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 299
the feeling expressed in the classical words of Tegner :
" What do I care for living duffers when I have the heroes
of humanity in my bookcase ? " I love it because Antonio
de Andrade is the author, and because it was printed when
the famous Jesuit still lived and sojourned in Tibet ; yes, it
passed through the press in Lisbon in the year when he
laid the foundation stone of a Christian church in Tsapa-
rang, where we have hastily examined the miserable huts
down by the Sutlej river. What does it profit that Odorico
de Pordenone was the first European to visit Tibet ? His
recollections are far too scanty and indistinct. Padre
Antonio is the first who brought to the world reliable
information from that country. He is the first European
who crossed the Himalayas and penetrated into Tibet from
the south, and also the first who followed the Ganges of
Vishnu to its source. He stands like a milestone on the
highroad of the centuries, a boundary cliff in the stream of
time, and he marks the point from which the history of
Tibetan exploration really begins. I myself am for the
present, perhaps, the last in the sequence. At any rate I
have heard of no successor in the regions which I have
revealed. Only in Tsaparang, that old town so closely
associated with Antonio's name, do our routes touch,
though there was an interval of three centuries between
us. It is no wonder that I regard the faded book with
peculiar tenderness and devoutly repeat its last words,
"Laus Deo! "
Antonio de Andrade was born in the year 1580 at
Oleiros in Portugal. At sixteen he entered the Order of
Jesuits, and was sent in 1600 to Goa on the west coast of
India. There for some years he took an active part in the
work of the Order, and there one day a vague report
reached his ears that there were Christians among the
peoples of Tibet. C. Wessels says of these reports that
they had their origin " in a superficial resemblance of some
of the ceremonies of the Buddhist church to those of the
Catholic." Andrade declared himself that he undertook his
journey only for the glory of God, and that the Portuguese
had long wished for an opportunity of discovering Tibet.
Antonio had sojourned a quarter of a century in Goa
300 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
when he found an opportunity, in 1624, of travelHng to the
snowy mountains in the north. Accompanied by Father
Manuel Marques and two Christian servants, he left Agra
on March 30, and at Delhi joined a caravan of Hindu
pilgrims, who intended to make a pilgrimage to the holy
places on the upper Ganges. The route probably ran past
Hardwar, " the Gate of Vishnu," through countries subject
to the Raja of Srinagar, and never before seen by a
white man. The party marched over slippery rocks and
under the dense leafy vaults of forests. In the depths
below roared the Ganges. The bold Portuguese shrank
from no danger, and when he was suspected of espionage
in Srinagar and imprisoned, he succeeded by his calmness
and prudence in regaining his liberty.
His journey took him to still higher regions along the
banks of the Vishnu-Ganga, along the same route which
Webb and Raper followed 180 years later, quite ignorant
that the Portuguese had been there before them. In
his excellent account of his journey Raper does not
say a word about Andrade, but he confirms the accurate
observations Andrade had made. C. Wessels has com-
pared the two travellers in a meritorious study lately
published in De Studien, Tijdschrift voor godsdienst-
wetenschap en letteren, vol. ']'] (191 2), No. 4, under the
title, " Antonio de Andrade, S.J. Een ontdekkingsreziger
in de Himalaya en in Tibet (1624- 1630)." His essay is
the best we have on the old Jesuits. Wessels has eradi-
cated many errors which have made the round of descrip-
tions of Tibet. The absurd notion that Andrade travelled
through Kashmir and on his way discovered Manasarowar,
the Tso-mavang of the Tibetans, was not the least of such
mistakes. Andrade's Srinagar is not the capital of Kash-
mir, but the town of the same name on the Alaknanda.
As to the lake which he discovered, and has been mistaken
for Manasarowar, we shall return to that presently.
The missionaries continued their journey and reached
Badrinath, where one of the holiest shrines of the Hindus
in this part of the Himalayas attracted crowds of pilgrims.
At a later time Webb and Raper advanced as far as the
village Mana on the Saraswati, the upper course of the
THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 301
Vishnu-Ganga. But Andrade went on further, undismayed,
up to the eternal snows and to quite unknown Tibet. On
this road he approached the highest crest of the Hima-
layas, The sufferings and privations of the little party
became here intense. Marques had remained behind, and
Andrade had with him only the two Christians and a guide
from Mana. He is very reticent in his little book. The
geography of the country no longer attracts his attention ;
he is exclusively occupied with his struggle for victory,
and tells of the scanty food, the parched barley- meal
steeped in water, which the travellers subsisted on, and
how they were inconvenienced by the poisonous gases
which rose from the ground.
On the third day they were overtaken by three men
from Mana who depicted in startling colours all the
dangers, including death, they would have to encounter if
they continued on the way to the pass. Andrade and his
two servants were not deterred by fears, but the guide
returned with the messengers. The way up to the pass
became worse and worse. They floundered up to the knee
in snow, and sometimes they sank to the chest or the arm-
pits ; they often hitched themselves along over the crust
with the movements of a swimmer, so that they might not
be suffocated in the loose snow. At night a mantle was
laid over the snow and the three men lay upon it, covering
themselves with the other two mantles. Sometimes snow
fell in such quantities that they had to get up and shake it
off the mantles lest they should be buried alive. The
snow blinded their eyes, their hands and feet were numbed
with cold, and yet Andrade went on. And at last we read
in his little book. Novo Descobrimento, the following preg-
nant words which for three hundred years have been
misunderstood and falsely interpreted : " Nesta forma
fomos caminhando ate o alto de todas as serras, onde nasce
o Rio Ganga de hum grande tanque, & do mesmo nasce
tamben outra, que rega as terras do Tibet." That is, he
continued his march "as far as the highest point of the
rocks where the Ganges rises in a large pool, in which pool
also another river has its source, which irrigates the
lands of Tibet."
302 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Note that he speaks of a " tanque," not of a " lago."
He means, as C. Wessels has clearly shown, the glacier
pool Deb-tal, 400 yards long, which lies at the top of the
Mana pass, and from which springs the Saraswati, the
stream that flows to the Ganges. The other river which
runs northwards and irrigates the lands of Tibet is, of
course, a brook, which rises on the pass or in its immediate
neighbourhood and enters the Sutlej near Totling. The
discoverer Andrade was, then, quite right, and it is not
his fault that Markham and others have misunderstood
him, and ascribed to him the discovery of Manasarowar.
Holdich seeks to detract from his fame, saying that he is
only a doubtful authority. It is singular how easily the
geographers of our time can make negative discoveries in
countries where they have never set a foot. Without
contributing a single positive item to our real knowledge,
they content themselves with pulling down what others
have built up. Wessels has done a good deed in breaking
a lance for the honour of Andrade, and he now, after three
centuries, secures full justice for the heroic exploits of the
Portuguese, when the voice of the Jesuit has long been
silent, while his little book still preserves the truth between
its cracked boards.
But Andrade was misunderstood centuries ago. In
his noted work China Ilhistrata (Amsterdam, 1670) the
learned Jesuit father, Athanasius Kircher, collected some
remarkable tales about Andrade's journey. Andrade was,
Kircher remarks, fortunate in making several striking
discoveries in Tibet, among others the sources of the
Ganges and the Indus. This was communicated to
Kircher by a baptized Hindu, named Joseph, who had
accompanied Father Andrade on all his travels and at
the age of eighty-six was staying in Rome. Father
Henrik Roth, also, told Kircher in Rome all he knew
about the Portuguese missionary.
Let us hear what Kircher has to say :
On the highest mountains of Tibet, covered with eternal snow,
there is a large lake in which rise the greatest rivers of India ; for
from this sheet of water issue the Indus, the Ganges, the Ravi, and
the Atenh. The Ganges flows to a chasm where its cascade makes
XXV THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 303
a terrific roar, and then after irrigating a lovely valley it rolls on
to the sea into which it pours. As to the Indus and the other rivers,
they stream slowly along the mountains as we see on the map.
At another place in his book Kircher says of Father
Antonio that from Tsaparang he crossed " a high moun-
tain on the top of which is a large lake, which, from what
he says about it and from what he could see, is the source of
the Indus, the Ganges, and the other large rivers of India."
It would take us. too far if we were to enter here upon
a discussion of this interesting problem. Suffice it to say
that I cannot share Wessels' opinion, but believe that
Kircher really meant Manasarowar, of which Joseph and
Roth had gleaned reports. Kircher afterwards mixed
together in his own storeroom the communications of
these two and Andrade's own narrative, which, indeed,
contains not a single word indicating that he had the
slightest knowledge of that lake. It is inconceivable that
he could have lived for years on the banks of the Sutlej
and yet not know whence the river came. It is enough
that he says nothing about it.
But Kircher goes much further. He makes Father
Andrade continue his journey from the enigmatical lake
through Rudok and the lands of the Tanguts and Tatars
to China. He makes him travel in two months all through
Asia ! The title of the little book lying on the table before
me is doubtless to blame for Father Kircher's mistake,
Novo Descobrimento do Gram Cat kayo . . . for " Gram
Cathayo " is the " Great China." Curiously enough the
learned orientalist, J. Klaproth, has calmly accepted this
statement, for he writes quite confidently :
In the year 1624 the Portuguese Jesuit Antonio de Andrade
undertook a journey from Tibet to China. He set out from the
realm of the Great Mogul, took the road through Garhwal, crossed
Tibet and came safely to China,
But I am forgetting ! We have left the good Father
and his two Christians on the Mana pass. From the top
he looked forth, as he expresses himself, over the king-
dom of Tibet. All was white there, covered with deep
snow. Their snow-blinded eyes could detect no road.
304 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
The two servants were tired to death and were obliged to
turn back. Andrade took pity on them and accompanied
them lest they should perish in the snow. After three
days they fortunately met scouts of Bothia, who had been
sent out from Mana, and after three more days' march
they pitched their camp in a cave, where Marques, who
brought provisions, joined the party again. Then they
rested a month while the summer sun melted the snow.
Then the missionaries marched up again with better success,
crossed the pass, and were soon after received by envoys
from the king of Tsaparang. In the early days of August
1624 they reached the " Cidade Real," the royal city,
below Totling, where now only sixteen inhabitants dwell
in dilapidated huts.
The king and the queen overwhelmed Father Antonio
with tokens of hospitality, and he enjoyed greater freedom
than any of the travellers who, during nearly three centuries,
have followed in his footsteps and have set out for adven-
tures in Tibet. He remained, nevertheless, only a month
in Tsaparang, about which town he has nothing to say but
that it lies on a river. At the beginning of November
we find him again in Agra, and there he wrote the
little book which I have told about, and which is dated
November 8, 1624.
In the following year he set out on his second journey
to Tsaparang, and during the next twenty-five years about
eighteen missionaries followed his example. In 1642
Marques stayed at Tsaparang, and Cacella died in 1630
in Shigatse ; six years later Alano dos Anjos died in Tibet.
C. Wessels has promised us an essay on his fortunes, of
which only a faint echo has come down to our times.
How long Andrade stayed on his second visit to
Tsaparang is not known. He reached the town on
August 28, 1625. On April 11, 1626, he laid the founda-
tion stone of the first Christian church in Tibet. The
narrative of his second journey is dated August 15 in
Tsaparang. He was still there in September 1627, as
appears from his letters. But in the year 1630 he was
staying in Goa, and the year after he despatched four
missionaries to Tsaparang. At the beginning of the year
XXV THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 305
1634 he made ready for a third journey, with six com-
panions, to the snowy country in the north, but on March
19 he was removed by death and was buried at Goa. It
is beHeved that he died of poison.
Two hundred years passed by before a European came
again to Tsaparang. Kircher and D'Anville had inserted
the town on their maps and in later times English travellers
had heard it spoken of. In the year 1855 Tsaparang
was visited by Adolph Schlagintweit who found at this
famous place fifteen houses.
Now I take from my bookshelf another small volume
as old and discoloured as the first. It contains the descrip-
tion of Andrade's experiences on his journeys and is, as
mentioned, dated August 15, 1626. It was printed in
Paris in 1629, and its title is Histoire de ce qui est passd au
Royau7ne du Tibet. At that time Lhasa had not attained
its present renown, Hundes stood for Tibet, and Tsaparang
was the largest town in the country.
My affection for this book is not less than that I cherish
for Andrade's first book. Perhaps even greater, for I can
read it easily. Here Andrade mentions that he, very
different from myself, received a passport from the Great
Mogul to the " little kings in the mountains," and his
journey was easier than the former. In Tsaparang a house
was placed at his disposal close to the palace in which the
king's son resided.
The little book is full of amusing descriptions of the
lama monks of Tibet, their manners and customs, their
religious views, and their useless exchange of opinions and
disputes with the steadfast Father.
When they prepare for worship (he relates) they blow trumpets
of metal ; but trumpets are also made of leg and arm bones of dead
men, and they also make use of rosaries with beads made from
dead men's skulls ; and when I asked the reason of this, the lama,
who is the king's brother, answered that they used such trumpets
in order that the people might remember the dead when they
heard the blare, and that they often drank out of skulls that they
might retain a lively remembrance of death.
One day when attending a festival, Andrade expressed
to the brother of the king his astonishment that the lamas
X
J
06 TRANS-HIMALAYA
danced and said that "our priests were so earnest and
dignified that they would not for all the world be seen in
such an indecent act and one so unworthy of the profession
to which they were consecrated." " Do not be surprised,"
returned the lama, " for in this performance the young
lamas represent angels " ; and he added that just as we
(Europeans) depict our angels singing and playing on
musical instruments, so they (Lamaists) represented angels
— that they danced was only a minor detail — and he said
that he had seen a small picture of the birth of Christ in
which several angels were depicted, who in their joy at
the birth of the Redeemer sang and played on musical
instruments.
Father Antonio had a sharp eye for all that related to
religion, and forgot to tell future generations about the
mysterious country which lifted its lofty snowy peaks
around him, and about the great river which he saw rolling
its waters down the valley with a thundering roar. Only
the following lines contain some slight reference to a
temple festival in Totling-gompa :
Not long ago I went off to a town which lies about half a day's
journey from Tsaparang. I accompanied the King who wished to
visit his mother, the Queen, who had undertaken a pilgrimage to
this place, where there are several temples and five hundred lamas.
As crowds of people flocked on this day from all sides to the place,
their number amounted to two thousand. When we arrived, we
found those on whom the King would wait drawn up in perfect
order, two and two like our priests in a procession ; and they
extended over a considerable length of road, singing after their
fashion, and the more important persons carrying various banners
in their hands. When the King caught sight of them, he at once
dismounted from his horse, and standing on a long silken carpet,
laid down for him by the lamas, made three genuflexions to the
whole assembly, lowering his head and hands to the ground. Then
the whole company made six similar obeisances to the King. This
shows what great respect this prince shows to the lamas when they
appear before him as a body corporate, whereas when he meets
them singly he does not salute them at all, except, of course, their
superior, who now happens to be the King's brother.
He speaks of the great friendship of the good King to
the Jesuits, and of his reverence for the only true church.
XXV THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 307
which he regarded with much greater affection than the
religion of his own country. On one excursion the King
showed much greater honour to Father Andrade than to
his guest, the king of Ladak, " ruler of a neighbouring
kingdom." When they came near the town and the people
streamed out to see the spectacle, the King again dis-
mounted and took his seat on a carpet, placing his son on
his left side and Father Andrade on his right. When the
missionary modestly declined to sit down while the Queen
and all the others were standing, the King said: "You
are a priest and our father, are you not ? " All this, besides
the supposed desire of the King for baptism and Chris-
tianity, makes us suspect a pious fraud on the part of the
missionary who wanted money from home to enable him
to continue his work. And the two superior lamas may be
excused for reproaching the King because he had been
induced in six months to turn his back on the faith of his
fathers and adopt another. But Andrade characterized
their conduct as " tricks of the devil," prayed and fasted
in order to gain the soul of the King, and arranged a
disputation with the Buddhist priests in the illustrious
presence of His Majesty. On this occasion he decoyed
them into slippery places. They had no answers to give,
tried to shirk the question, and scoffed at the Jesuits.
Another time (relates Andrade) I asked a lama in the presence
of the King what means of salvation a sinner could use to be
restored to the grace of God, and he replied that it was sufficient
to utter the words Om ina'ny paUneonry {Ovi mani padnie hmn),
which is equivalent to saying : however much I have sinned, I shall
still get to heaven. If that is true, I retorted, take a dagger and
stab a man to the heart, rob the King of the pearls he wears, insult
us with the most extravagant abuse, and then say simply Om
ma'ny patmeonry, and you are at once absolved and purified from
all sins. Do you think that is reasonable ?
The Father assured the lama that in spite of all his
fine talk he would, without good works, be condemned to
the fires of hell. Then the King turned to those present
and mocked the lama so severely that Andrade had to beg
him not to let it be known that he, the Jesuit, had im-
parted to him the knowledge he possessed. Then Andrade
o
08 TRANS-HIMALAYA
asked the Tibetan monks what the formula, which they
had always on their lips in season and out of season, pre-
cisely meant ; and none of them could answer. Then said
Andrade, " As you patter these words like parrots which
do not understand what they say, know that Orn many
pahneonry signifies Lord, forgive me my sins." And from
that hour all the monks assigned this meaning to the
mysterious words.
The good Jesuit continues :
They show the greatest reverence to our sacred images, and our
church is quite full of such. Thither the people of rank resort,
worship and throw themselves on the ground, for they are accus-
tomed to adore holy images in this fashion. They are always
asking us to hold the holy book (so they call the missal) over their
heads, for thereby we shall receive strength to unfold to them the
mysteries of the Gospel. When the King was in our church not
long ago with a large retinue, I had to explain to him what the
Christ crucified, the figure in front of us, meant, and it was a
strange sight to see him turn to those present and say : " Here you
see that it is true that the Son of God is a living book, very different
from that which the lamas read, which is not God and cannot be
God." . . . Some natives from the town of Utsang (Lhasa), where
there are many churches, have told me that they have seen in them
many sacred images similar to our own. Who can doubt that it is
the will of Heaven that they shall soon be drawn to the worship of
the true God ?
Once the lama, the brother of the King, came to
Andrade's church and gave him seven copper bowls,
saying that water should be offered in them daily to the
God of the Christians. " So they do themselves, and they
believe that it is also the custom with us." The chalice
especially excited his interest, and he begged to be allowed
to witness the ceremonies at Andrade's service.
After the lama had seen everything, he told me that the
Grand Lama in Utsang (the Dalai Lama) offers small quantities of
bread and wine, that he eats and drinks of them himself and dis-
tributes the remainder to the other lamas, and that he blows and
breathes with his mouth over the wine he presents to God, which
he alone and no one else may do. And he added that this Grand
Lama wears on his head a tiara like mine but much larger.
Father Antonio de Andrade entertains greater hopes
THE FIRST JESUIT IN TIBET 309
of being able to convert the Tibetans than Father
Gerbillon, who says of the Mongolian Lamaists :
I believe that they would become ardent Christians, if they
accepted the true religion ; but, as it is, they are, to tell the truth,
so obstinately rooted by the lamas in their false doctrines that
there is little hope of converting them to the faith.
With regard to Father Andrade's vain search for traces
of an old Christianity in south-western Tibet, Ritter, in
Asien (vol. ii. p. 447), expresses the opinion that the
reports which the Catholic missionaries heard in India, as
has so often been the case, mixed up the ceremonies of
the Lama cultus with those of the Catholic church.
In taking leave of Andrade and his naive but interest-
ing communications, we are naturally confronted with the
question to which Ritter alludes in the words above.
CHAPTER XXVI
LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM
How little I thought during the memorable days I spent
in Tashi-lunpo that the observations I made at the New
Year's festival and noted down would two years later call
forth protests and disapproval from many sides in Central
Europe ! I ventured in the first volume of this book to
dwell on the many points of similarity between the external
forms of Lamaism and Catholicism. I did not allow myself
to be influenced by any preconceived opinions, but relied
simply and solely on my own judgment. My own impres-
sion was strong and clear, but I only touched on it lightly
in describing my days in the cloister court of the Tashi
Lama. I called the labrang the Vatican, and the Tashi
Lama, Pope, and said that, like the Pope in Rome, he was
a prisoner in the Tibetan Vatican. I remarked on the
monastic and cloister life, on the processions and the
funeral rites, and saw in the gifts of hard cash, which
the pilgrims have to present to the clergy, a counterpart
to the Peter's pence of Rome.
It would have been vulgar and reprehensible if I had
intended thereby to irritate the Catholics from sheer
wantonness. It would have been stupid and unseemly,
for I have so many sincere friends among the Catholics
and so many ineffaceable memories of their domestic
hearths. Had I not been the guest of Catholic mission-
aries under the palms of Baghdad, the city of the Thousand-
and-One Nights, and in the imperial city of Calcutta } Had
I not sat at the table of their brethren in Lian-chu-fu and
Pekin, and had I not returned home with an extraordinary
310
cH.xxvi LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 311
admiration for all I had seen among the amiable learned
Jesuits in Hongkong and Sikawei ? I was received as a
welcome guest by them all, and all gave me valuable
information about the districts to which they were volun-
tarily banished, and in which they worked. Why should
I have any intention of wounding them in their most
sacred feelings, and offending the immense hosts that
stood behind them ?
The gigantic work that Catholic missions have
accomplished for centuries in purely geographical investi-
gations throughout Asia is worthy of the greatest admira-
tion. They have opened roads into the heart of the
largest continent of the world. As far back as the Middle
Ages the Franciscan monks Piano Carpini and Wilhelm
Rubruquis brought to the West the first news of the
boundless empire of Mangu Can. No words of praise are
extravagant for the Jesuits who executed a topographical
survey of the whole Chinese Empire in the time of the
immortal Kang Hi. The oldest explorers after the monk
Odorico were Jesuits, namely, Andrade, Grueber, Dorville,
and Desideri. Capuchins dwelt for several decades in
Lhasa, and were instrumental in opening a connection
between the Land of Snow and the world of white men.
Hue and Gabet were Lazarists ; one cannot think of Tibet
without calling to mind Hue, the incomparable Abbe
Hue, overflowing with kindness of heart, cheerfulness,
and wit.
My quite innocent utterances have aroused among
several Catholic organs of the press a displeasure which is
unmistakably betrayed in strong language. It was said
that I was guilty of gross shamelessness, and had com-
mitted an indecency " in comparing Catholicism with the
darkest heathenism and idolatry." Two ultramontane
newspapers declared in indignant terms that my com-
parison of the two religions was an exhibition of stupidity,
ignorance, and bad manners. But their passion was quite
misplaced and unnecessary, for I never made the slightest
attempt to gainsay their characteristics. Some Catholic
priests in southern Germany and Poland honoured me
with letters in which they complained that I had sadly
312 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
shocked their religious feelings. Should a new edition of
Trans- Himalaya be published the unfortunate passages
must be struck out, for they gave a thoroughly false
impression of Catholicism.
And yet it had never been my intention to support in
the slightest degree the movement called " away from
Rome," A small storm raged over my quiet study and
made a vain attempt to disturb me in my tranquil work.
I seemed to see grim cloister brothers and reverend pre-
lates pointing the finger at me and denouncing me as an
arch -heretic. Catholic bells sounded in my ears, I per-
ceived an aroma of incense, heard the mass being sung, and
saw monks and nuns walking in procession to the church
festivals. And all this grand attractive church pomp I had
compared to Lamaism ! I had committed a misdemeanour,
and it almost seemed as if I were making a pilgrimage
to do penance, to confess and promise amendment,
when I travelled to Rome, sauntered under the dome
of St. Peter's, and waited upon the good old venerable
Pius X.
Then I had neither time nor inclination nor means of
answering these attacks. Since then two years have
elapsed, and during this time I have studied old and
new sources for a history of journeys of discovery in
Tibet. Without looking for them I have come across
several accounts of Lamaism, and I am armed to the teeth
now that I take the field, not to cause annoyance to
Catholics, but to prove that I was quite right when I spoke
of the similarity of the outward forms of Lamaism and
Catholicism.
The subject is not a new one. It is as old as the
Bohemian forest. The monks of the Middle Ages noticed
the striking similarity, and were astonished at it. Many
Catholic missionaries have remarked on it in plain words
without being attacked on that account by their brethren
in the faith. Often the statements are unreliable and
amplified with a wealth of detail that raises suspicion.
Some authors have drawn on the experiences of others
without referring to their sources. Often also mistakes
have been made by great authorities. Thus, for example,
LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 313
Professor Kuchner, in his brilliant work on Tibet, Opisanie
Tibeta (Vladivostok, 1907), asserts that Rubruquis, who
travelled in 1253, "gives in many places information about
Lamaism, and points out many curious points of resem-
blance between the rites of this religion and the Catholic
divine service." In W. W. Rockhill's excellent transla-
tion of The Journey of William of Rubruck to the Eastern
Parts of the World, 12^^-^^ (London, 1900), not a single
word on this subject is to be found on pp. 199 and 232,
and the word Lamaism does not occur. Rubruquis speaks
on one occasion of a " priest from China," and on another
of a reincarnation, and Rockhill supposes that he meant
thereby priests from Tibet. On the other hand, the
Franciscan frequently mentions Nestorian Christians whom
he met on the way, and who had had numerous congrega-
tions in the countries north and east of Tibet for 600 years
before his time.
Recently an interesting inquiry by Richard Garbe
with the title, " Has the Development of Buddhism
been influenced by Christianity } " has appeared in
Deutsche Rundschau (No. 14, April 15, 191 2, p. 89 et
seq.), edited by Julius Rodenberg. Before we proceed
further it may be instructive to give a hasty glance at
its contents.
In the middle of the third century b.c. Buddhism
spread over north-western India, and there was developed
and flourished till the eighth century the school which
differentiated the northern Buddhism from the southern,
and is known by the name of Mahayana or the " Great
Ship." In this modification of the original dogmas some
investigators see the effect of Christian influence. One of
them, the Jesuit father Joseph Dahlmann, against whom
Garbe's criticism is chiefly directed, has lately gone so far
as to ascribe the victorious progress of Buddhism over
half Asia and a third part of the human race, not to its
own strength, but to the Christian thoughts and ideas
which it had adopted in north-western India. Dahlmann
therefore maintains that this disguised form of Christianity
explains the immense extension of the new religion.
In the Catholic press Dahlmann's supposed discovery
314 TRANS-HIMALAYA
was hailed with delight, nay, often with enthusiasm. At
last a sagacious investigator "had made an end of the
humbug of Buddhism."
Relying on the best authorities to be had, on Griin-
wedel, M. A. Stein, etc., Garbe examines the demonstra-
tion of Dahlmann in the smallest details, and blows it bit
by bit into the air. It would carry us too far were we to
enter deeply into this matter. Suffice it to say that chrono-
logical impossibilities confront the Father. Garbe proves
with irreproachable perspicuity that the Mahayana Bud-
dhism has made its triumphant progress through the east
Asiatic world owing to its own vigour. On the other
hand, he is disposed to answer in the affirmative the
question whether Christianity has left in later times traces
in northern Buddhism.
Padma Sambhava in the middle of the eighth century
instituted Tibetan Lamaism, which thrust out the indi-
genous Shamanism. The founder of Lamaism was, how-
ever, shrewd enough to incorporate various dogmas and
customs of the Shamans in his form of Buddhism, which
was already mixed with Sivaist elements.
Christian influence first becomes possible in the year
635, when the Nestorians began to send missionaries into
those regions. And it was after this time that the belief
in an almighty, omniscient, primordial Buddha arose in
Tibet and Nepal — a monotheistic deviationfrom the original
atheistic Buddhism. Garbe thinks it not unlikely that
this almighty god may have been borrowed from the
Nestorians. With much greater confidence he insists on
the influence of Christianity on the later development of
the Lamaist cult, " which has been even styled a caricature
of the Catholic cult."
Among other striking similarities Garbe cites the fact
from Waddell that high lamas cross themselves before the
commencement of a religious rite. They also hold a cere-
mony which has a remarkable resemblance to the Eucharist.
Bread and wine are distributed to the worshippers. The
bread consists perhaps of small butter puffs, and the wine
is perhaps a kind of beer called " chang." But whoever
partakes of it is long-lived. Garbe says :
LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 315
Strictly Catholic, too, seems to us a fundamental idea of
Lamaism that the priests have in their possession the keys of
heaven and hell, for they have invented the universally received
maxim : " Without a lama before one, one cannot approach God."
Garbe asks in conclusion whether the similarities be-
tween the Catholic and Lamaist cults may be explained by
the assumption that the minds of men, when they move
along the same lines of feeling and thought, also tend
towards the same outward forms. " But," he answers,
"the concordances are so numerous and close that we
cannot escape from the assumption that borrowing has
taken place." It is of course certain that Catholicism has
stamped its image on Lamaism, and not vice versa. And
just as evident is it that the two religions have in essential
matters developed quite independently of each other.
After this introduction I will proceed to cite some
older expressions of opinion. In a German collection of
various narratives of travel with the title Allgemeine
Historie der Reisen zu Wasser und zu Lande ; oder Samm-
lung aller Reisebesckreibungen, etc. (Leipzig, 1750), there
is in vol. vii. p. 212 a whole section with the promising
superscription, " The Religion of Tibet and its astonishing
Agreement with the Romish." Herein it is said some-
what scoffingly that the missionaries who visited Tibet —
that is, Grueber, Desideri, Delia Penna, and others — "did
little more than notice the similarity between the religion
of Tibet and their own." Some missionaries explain this
agreement by the supposition that Christianity was perhaps
preached in Tibet in the time of the Apostles. If other
missionaries are to be believed, this agreement is very
close, " and involves almost all the doctrines and cere-
monies of the Romish church." Gerbillon mentions the
following ceremonies :
(i) Holy water ; (2) singing in divine service; (3) prayers for
the dead ; (4) the clothing of the priests, which is such as the
Apostles are represented as wearing, and the caps and capes such
as bishops wear ; (5) their Grand Lama is much the same to them
as the Pope is to those of the Romish confession. They made the
offering of the Mass with bread and wine, gave extreme unction,
blessed those who wished to marry, prayed over the sick, honoured
o
i6 TRANS-HIMALAYA
the relics of demigods, had monks and nuns, sang in the choir like
monks, observed certain annual festivals, submitted to severe
penances, including flagellation, consecrated bishops and sent out
missionaries, who lived in extreme poverty, and travelled bare-
footed through the desert to China.
According to this collection of travels the Prefect of
the Capuchin mission, Orazio della Penna, is the author of
the following lines :
The religion of Tibet is in the main a copy of the Roman.
They believe in a God and a trinity, but full of errors, paradise,
hell, and purgatory, also full of errors. They have prayers, alms,
vows, and offerings for the dead, have a large number of monasteries
with monks numbering thirty thousand, who take the three vows of
poverty, chastity, and obedience, and others besides. They have
their confessors, who are selected by their superiors, and receive a
licence from the Lama — as from a bishop — without which they
cannot hear confessions. The church organisation is ordered as in
the Romish church.
Regis and certain other Catholic missionaries report
that they did all that w^as possible to prevent this similarity
being known, for it would be injurious to Catholicism if it
were compared with a religion which practised the grossest
idolatry, and such a revelation would bring water to the
Protestant mill.
When the Pope and the congregations in the 'forties
of the eighteenth century refused to grant more money
to the Capuchin mission in Lhasa, an appeal was made to
public charity by a circular printed in Rome in the year
1742. The document represented Tibet as for the most
part converted ; only a few more missionaries were re-
quired to bring the work to an end. A criticism of the
time dealt severely with this appeal. It was asked what
doctrines were preached that the people of Tibet had so
readily accepted Christianity. The Holy Scriptures or
the confession of Pius VII., or the rules of the order of
the Capuchins? Jesus Christ was never mentioned. On
the other hand, the outward resemblance of the order of
the church was insisted on. But this very similarity must
be an obstacle, the critic remarks, for if the real difference
was only that the lamas of Tibet had to learn the Latin
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 317
Mass in order to be Christian lamas, they would dispense
with conversion. It was also cited as an advantage that
the Tibetans might have only one wife. Why was nothing
said of the custom of a woman having husbands by the
half-dozen ? The women would fight against the new
teaching, and defend their rights with teeth and nails.
It was the Prefect Delia Penna who worked on behalf
of the Capuchin mission in Tibet. He related that he
had had many a hard battle with the Lamaist monks, and
had once written a long letter to the king in Lhasa in
defence of Catholicism. In his reply the king extolled the
advantages of his own religion and called Christianity a
lower form of belief, though there was good in both.
Honour to the Capuchins in any case ! They behaved
themselves like men in Tibet. We have no reason to be
angry with them because they or their speaking trumpet,
Father Georgi, in his noted but ill-written book Alpha-
betuvi Tibetanum (Rome, 1762), lays the blame for the
similarity of the two religions on the old Manichaeism.
The heresiarch Manes is said to be responsible for all the
devil's work in Tibet, but we do not hear in what wonderful
way his doctrines reached that country. In one place (p. 543)
Georgi expresses the following apprehension : "Antiquum
hoc et portentosum connubium Manichaiae hydrae cum
Paganismi monstro in Tibeto commixtae, terret me
plurimum, ac nescio quid mali in posterum futurum
portendere videtur Ecclesiae." {Compare also Relazione
inedita di un viaggio al Tibet del Padre Cassiano Beligatti
da Macerata [Florence, 1902, pp. 7 and 11].) It is not
right, as Dr. Gutzlaff does in the Journal of the Royal
Geographical Society, 1851, p. 226, to look for similarities
between the rituals of the Capuchins and of Shamanism,
and to assert that on that account the missionaries were
regarded as lamas from western lands. For what has
Shamanism to do with Catholicism ?
We can go back further than the time of the Capuchins.
It is very significant that the first European to enter Tibet,
as far as we know, the Franciscan monk Odorico de
Pordenone, calls the Grand Lama in Lhasa, Pope. He
means the abbot of the principal temple, for the office of
o
i8 TRANS-HIMALAYA
Dalai Lama did not exist then. His own words run:
" In this city dwells the Obassy, that is to say their
pope in their language. He is the chief of all the
idolaters. . . ." In a Latin translation (by Hakluyt) it is
given : " Papa eorum qui est caput & princeps omnium
Idolatrorum . . . sicut noster Papa Romanus est caput
omnium Christianorum." (Henri Cordier, Les Voyages en
Asie au XIV' siecle du bienheureux Frere Odoric de
Pordenone [Paris, 1891, p. 450]; compare also Henry
Yule, Cathay and the Way Thither, p. 149.)
Our friend Andrade says of the monks of Tsaparang
that they live together "just as our cloister people." They
do not marry, and the young ones sing chants clear, loud,
and expressive " after our style." Their temples are like
our churches but finer and cleaner, are painted and adorned
with golden statues. He had seen an image supposed
to represent the Mother of God, and had found there
confession, holy water, and a sprinkling which might be
compared to baptism.
Athanasius Kircher in La Chine Illustree, etc. (Amster-
dam, 1670, p. 97), says of the Dalai Lama that he sits on
a cushion in a room lighted by many lamps. Thither
come the pilgrims, who cast themselves down before
him, touching the ground with the forehead as a sign of
homage. They are not allowed to kiss his feet as is
customary with the " pontifical sovereign in Rome."
Here are plainly evident the wiles of the Devil. To
make a mock of holy things and rob God of the honour
due unto Him the Evil One has by a trick of his usual
cunning caused these barbarians to imitate us, and induced
them to pay to a human being the reverence due to God
and Jesus Christ alone. He profanes the most holy
mysteries of the Catholic Church by forcing these poor
wretched creatures to celebrate these mysteries at the
place where they keep their hideous idols. Because he has
observed that Christians call the Pope Father of Fathers,
he makes these idolatrous barbarians call that false god
Grand Lama or high priest.
This Kircher was himself a Jesuit. He explains the
resemblance between the two religions as a device of the
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 319
Devil. Grueber fell back on the same expedient in 1661.
" Nothing," writes Richthofen in the first volume of his
China (p. 672), " struck him more than the resemblance of
the worship to that of Catholics, which he regarded as a
device of the Devil."
Apparently they are the views of Father Regis which
we find in the following words of the author Du Halde in
his DescripHoJi de r E7npire de la Chine, etc. (vol. iv. p. 469).
He says that able missionaries have come to the convic-
tion that traces are to be found in the old books of Tibet
of "our holy religion" which was preached there in the
times of the Apostles, but in the course of centuries has
through lack of knowledge been mixed with errors which
have finally gained the upper hand.
The indications on which they base their assumption is the
dress of the lamas, which is very similar to that in which the
Apostles are represented in old pictures ; the subordination which
is found among them and has some resemblance to the Roman
hierarchy ; several of their ceremonies which are not far removed
from our own ; their idea of an incarnation, and lastly the doctrines
which their most eminent doctors promulgate. All this, indeed,
makes it necessary to subject their books which are found in Lhasa
and the monuments existing there to a thorough examination.
This Du Halde was likewise a Jesuit.
Now let us hear what missionaries of later times have
to say. The immortal Hue, Pretre missionnaire de la con-
gregation de Saint- Lazare, records in his Souvenirs d'un
voyage dans la Tartarie, le Thibet et la Chine (Paris, 1853,
vol. ii. p. wo et seq.) :
If we examine, even most superficially, the reforms and innova-
tions introduced into the Lamaist cult by Tsong Kapa, we are quite
unavoidably struck by their resemblance to Catholicism. The
crozier, the mitre, the chasuble, the cardinal's robe, or the choir
robe which the higher lamas wear on journeys or in performing
certain ceremonies, the double choir at divine service, the chants,
the exorcism, the censer with five chains which can be opened and
closed at pleasure, the blessing which the lamas impart by extend-
ing the right hand over the heads of the faithful, the rosary, the
celibacy of the clergy, their separation from the world, the worship
of saints, the fasts, processions, litanies, holy water ; these are the
points of contact the Buddhists have with us. Can we say that
320 TRANS-HIMALAYA
these points of contact have a Christian origin ? We believe so,
and though we have no positive proof of such a derivation in
tradition or in the antiquities of the country, it is nevertheless
permissible to express conjectures which in every respect are highly
probable.
We know that in the fourteenth century, during the supremacy
of the Mongol emperors, Europeans were often in communication
with the peoples of Central Asia. We have already in the first
part of our narrative of travel spoken of the famous embassies
which the Tartar conquerors sent to Rome, France, and England.
Undoubtedly these barbarians must have been so struck by the
pomp and grandeur of the ceremonies of Catholic worship that they
took back with them to their deserts an ineffaceable remembrance
of them. We know also that about the same time priests of
various orders undertook long journeys to introduce Christianity
into Tartary ; they must at the same time have penetrated into
Thibet and reached the Si-fan people and the Mongols on Koko-nor.
Jean de Montcorvin, Archbishop of Peking, had established a choir
in which numbers of Mongolian monks practised daily the recitation
of Psalms and Catholic rites. When we remember that Tsong
Kapa lived at the time when Christianity gained an entrance into
Central Asia, we shall not be astonished that there are such striking
resemblances to Christianity in reformed Buddhism,
And can we not say something still more positive ? May not
those legends of Tsong Kapa which we collected ourselves at his
birthplace, hearing them direct from the lamas, serve to support our
view ? After eliminating all the extraordinary details which the
imagination of the lamas has added to the narrative, we can affirm
that Tsong Kapa was a man pre-eminent by his genius and perhaps
by his virtues ; that he was instructed by a stranger who came from
the West ; that the pupil after the death of the master moved west-
wards, and that he remained in Thibet where he promulgated the
doctrines he had been taught. Was not the stranger with the
large nose a European, one of the Catholic missionaries who at that
time penetrated in large numbers into Central Asia? It is no
wonder that Lamaist traditions have preserved the memory of that
European face, of a type so different from the Asiatic. During our
stay in Kum-bum we heard lamas remark more than once on the
strangeness of our appearance, and they said without hesitation
that we must be from the country of Tsong Kapa's teacher. We
may assume that an early death prevented the Catholic missionary
from completing the religious education of his pupil, and that the
latter, when he wished afterwards to become an apostle, thought
only of introducing a new liturgy, whether because he possessed
only a defective knowledge of Christian dogmas or because he had
fallen from the faith. The slight resistance his reforms encountered
appears to indicate that the progress of Christian ideas in those
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 321
countries had severely shaken the foundations of the Buddhist cult.
There remains only to be investigated the question whether the
numerous points of contact between Buddhists and Catholics
are helpful or unfavourable to the spread of the faith in Tartary
and Thibet.
These similarities apply of course only to forms of
worship. Referring to doctrine Hue says in Le Chris-
tianisme en Chine (Paris, 1857, vol. iv. p. 11) :
Father Desideri, in our opinion, has very extravagant notions
on the points of contact he thinks he has discovered in dogma
between Christianity and the Lamaist teaching. It is true that in
Thibet are found astonishing reminders of the great primitive tradi-
tions and unmistakable traces of the Catholic missionaries of the
Middle Ages ; but it is not true that the Buddhists have any clear
and definite idea of the Holy Trinity, the salvation of men, the
incarnation of the Son of God, and the holy eucharist. The germs
of all these dogmas may possibly underlie their creed, but they are
certainly not firmly established.
In another passage of the same vi^ork Hue exclaims :
La coincidence des lieux, celle des epoques, les temoignages de
I'histoire et de la tradition, tout d^montra done jusqu'a I'^vidence
que la hierarchic et le culte lamai'ques ont fait des empruntes con-
siderables au christianisme.
The amiable Abbe C. H. Desgodins, vi^ho lived in the
extreme east of Tibet for a generation, endeavoured to
explain away the resemblance between the two religions.
In his work, Le Thibet dapres la correspondance des inis-
sionnaires, is a special rubric on the subject, " Hierarchie
lamaique compar^e a celle de I'eglise catholique," in which
he says :
Certain writers have gone even so far as to compare the Lamaist
hierarchy to the Catholic church, its Pope, its cardinals, its primates,
its archbishops, and its bishops. The comparison is more than
clumsy, for in Catholicism the hierarchy is among the secular clergy,
from the Pope down to the lowest pastor ; the fundamental hier-
archy of the church and its religious societies are nothing but useful
though not indispensable auxiliaries. In Tibet, on the other hand,
the whole hierarchy is entirely monastic, and there is not the
{slightest trace of a secular clergy.
I In fact the organization of religious bodies in Tibet is fundamen-
jtally far more similar to Protestantism than to Catholicism (!). On
Y
322 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
both sides we find a striking parallelism in the independent rival
sects, very little cohesion among the clergy of each sect, and the
association and interference of the civil power in the sphere of
religion and in religious affairs. The only similarity common to
Lamaism and Catholicism we find in the form of monasticism,
which in the Catholic church is a secondary matter, but in Tibetan
Buddhism is fundamental. If we go back to the 13th century we
find that history throws a light on the previous development of
this form, and we hope that it will finish its work and yield us
infallible proofs that the form of monasticism as well as many other
ceremonies in the outward rites of worship are simply borrowed
from Christianity.
An anonymous w^riter in the Calcutta Review (1877,
vol. Ixiv. p. 115) says of George Bogle's description of the
ceremonies in Tashi-lunpo in the year 1774, that some of
them " irresistibly lead us to comparisons between the
Buddhism of Tibet and the Roman Catholic religion. The
mind reverts to the scene at St. Peter's on Easter-day, as
we read of the Teshu Lama seated under a canopy in the
court of the palace and a vast crowd around awaiting his
blessing." After enumerating a host of points of contact,
in the spirit of Hue, he instances the analogy between the
Buddhistic system of incarnations and the dogma of the
apostolic succession. He gives the preference to the Bud-
dhist invention. The idea of letting the spirit of a deceased
lama pass without human intervention into the body of a
child, he considers much more elevated and purer, as well
as more in harmony with the feelings, than to let this
transference be decided by the votes of a college of
cardinals.
About the same time as the ambassador Bogle, John
Stewart expresses in the Annual Register {^1"]"]%, "Char-
acters," p. 36) his astonishment that the Dalai Lama "often
distributes little balls of consecrated flour, like the pai7i
b^nit of the Roman Catholics." And he reckons up a
number of resemblances, and thinks that it is no wonder
that the Capuchins thought they could detect among the
lamas of Tibet every trait of their own worship.
In the notes to the French edition of Carl Peter
Thunberg's narrative of travel ( Voyages de C. P. Thunberg
an Japon [Paris, 1796], iii. p. 248) L. Langles makes some
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 323
profound reflexions on Buddhism and Christianity. In
Buddhism he finds counterparts of the saints and the
canonized Popes of the Catholic church. He quotes also
the passage in the Histoire du Japon of the Jesuit Charle-
voix where it is said : " The remarkable circumstance is
that in the midst of this formless chaos of religion we find
traces of Christianity, that we have scarcely a mystery, a
dogma, or even a precept of charity, that apparently are
not known already to the Japanese." The illustrations in
the work of Father Georgi show, as Langles remarks, a
striking similarity between the dress of the lamas and
the clothing of Catholic priests. All this, according to
him, is quite comprehensible if we take " Tibet or the
plateau of Tartary " to have been the cradle of all
knowledge.
Perhaps I have already wearied my readers with all
these quotations. Well, there are only a couple more.
The subject is very absorbing, and it has drawn under its
yoke even men like Napoleon and Voltaire, for a few
minutes at least. The latter does not, indeed, mention
our analogies, but he makes a droll remark about the
Dalai Lama, wherein he has certainly not hit the mark
any more than in his reflexions on Charles XII. Thus
he says in his Essai sur les mceurs et r esprit (Paris, 1775,
ii. p. 143) : " It is certain that the part of Tibet where the
Grand Lama rules belonged to the empire of Jinghis Khan,
and that the high priest was in nowise molested by the
monarch, who had in his army many worshippers of this
god in human form." Abel Remusat replies to this
[Melanges Asiatiques [Paris, 1825] vol. i. p. 129 et seq.)
that Jinghis Khan never had an opportunity of manifesting
such respect for the high priest, " for in the time of Jinghis
Khan there was no Dalai Lama in Tibet."
Napoleon's grand personality passes only by pure
chance before our eyes. Captain Basil Hall landed at
Jamestown in August 11, 1817, and two days later had an
audience with Napoleon. Hall quotes from the con-
versation that he " appeared well aware of the striking
resemblance between the appearance of the Catholic priests
and the Chinese Bonzes ; a resemblance which, as he
324 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
remarked, extends to many parts of the religious cere-
monies of both. Here, however, as he also observed, the
comparison stops, since the Bonzes of China exert no
influence whatsoever over the minds of the people, and
never interfere in their temporal or external concerns."
(Compare Fremeaux, Les deriiiers jours de r E77zp^reur.)
The great Sanskrit scholar H. H. Wilson says, with
regard to the men of the Capuchin mission in t\\Q Journal
of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland
(1843, vol. xi. p. 293): " They all agree in the resemblance
between the religion of the Lamas and Christianity."
This remark occurs in a note to the account of Mir Izzet
Ullah of a journey from Ladak to Yarkand, in which the
Mohammedan dares to make the following impertinent
statement : " There is likewise an obvious affinity between
the Lamas of Tibet and the monks of Christian countries."
Mir Izzet Ullah made this journey by order of the
Manasarowar explorer, Moorcroft, who, at his visit to
Daba in 181 2, observed that on the death of a rich Tibetan
a considerable part of his fortune escheated to the church,
and an idol had to be presented to those priests who
prayed for the repose of the soul of the deceased, just
as in the Roman Catholic church. (Compare Asiatick
Researches, 18 18, xii. p. 437.)
The bishop Dr. Nicholas Wiseman (afterwards cardinal)
delivered in Rome in the year 1835 twelve lectures, which
were published with the title Twelve Lectures on the
Connection between Science and revealed Religion. In the
eleventh lecture Wiseman discusses the religious conditions
of Tibet, saying :
When Europe first became acquainted with this worship, it was
impossible not to be struck with the analogies it presented to the
religious rites of Christians. The hierarchy of the Lamas, their
monastic institutions, their churches and ceremonies, resembled
ours with such minuteness, that some connection between the two
seemed necessarily to have existed.
Relying on the authority of Abel Remusat and two
other scholars, Wiseman comes to the following conclusion :
At the time when the Buddhist patriarchs first established
themselves in Thibet, that country was in immediate contact with
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 325
Christianity. Not only had the Nestorians ecclesiastical settle-
ments in Tartary, but Italian and French religious men visited the
court of the Khans, charged with important missions from the Pope
and St. Lewis of France. They carried with them church orna-
ments and altars, to make, if possible, a favourable impression on
the minds of the natives. For this end they celebrated their worship
in the presence of the Tartar princes, by whom they were permitted
to erect chapels within the precincts of the royal palaces. An Italian
Archbishop, sent by Pope Clement V., established his see in the
capital, and erected a church, to which the faithful were summoned
by the sound of three bells, and where they beheld many sacred
pictures painted on the walls.
Nothing was easier than to induce many of the various sects
which crowded the Mongol court to admire and adopt the rites of
this religion. Some members of the imperial house secretly em-
braced Christianity, many mingled its practices with the profession
of their own creeds, and Europe was alternately delighted and
disappointed by reports of imperial conversions and by discoveries
of their falsehood. . . . Surrounded by the celebration of such
ceremonies, hearing from the ambassadors and missionaries of the
west accounts of the worship and hierarchy of their countries, it
is no wonder that the religion of the Lamas, just beginning to
assume splendour and pomp, should have adopted institutions and
practices already familiar to them, and already admired by those
whom they wished to gain. The coincidence of time and place, the
previous non-existence of that sacred monarchy, amply demonstrate
that the religion of Thibet is but an attempted imitation of ours.
Wiseman, then, defends the view that the Lamaist cult
was imported into Tibet from Europe. Most, however,
of what he has to say on the subject is borrowed from the
works of Abel Remusat. The latter says in his " Discours
sur I'origine de la hierarchic lamaique" {Melanges AsiatiqueSy
Paris, 1825, vol. i. p. 129):
The first missionaries who came into contact with Lamaism
were not a little astonished to find in the heart of Asia numerous
monasteries, as well as solemn processions, pilgrimages, religious
festivals, the court of a high priest and colleges of lama superiors,
who elect their chief, the prince of the church and spiritual father
of the Tibetans and Tatars. But as faith in their creed was in no
small degree a virtue, they did not think of concealing these points
of contact but, in order to explain them, regarded Lamaism as a
degenerate kind of Christianity, and in the details which seemed
to them so surprising they saw traces of a former intrusion of the
Syrian sects into this country.
o
26 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Abel Remusat shows that just at this time when
ambassadors and Catholic monks travelled from Europe
to the East, the new residences of the Buddhist patriarchs
were established in l^ibet, " Is it to be wondered at if
they, in the desire to increase the number of their ad-
herents and to lend their religion greater lustre, adopted
certain liturgical practices and something of the foreign
pomp which imposed on the masses ? "
Abel Remusat seeks, then, to prove that the purely out-
ward resemblances that exist have arisen owing to Lamaism
having in later times adopted part of the splendid ritual of
the Catholic Church. Accordingly he is opposed to the
view that Lamaism is a degenerated Christianity. Among
those who have maintained this opinion he mentions
Th^venot, the Abbe Renaudot, Andrade, Delia Penna,
Georgi, Deguiques, Lacroze, "and many others." How-
ever the resemblance between the two churches may be
explained, it is evident from Abel Remusat's exposition
that such a resemblance has really been observed by a
large number of Catholics.
Henry T. Prinsep, in his little book Tibet, Tartary,
and Mongolia (London, 1851, pp. 5, 12, 136, 141, 165, etc.),
says of Lamaist Asia :
The extraordinary similitude in many parts of the doctrine, and
of the books, and ritual, and forms, and institutions of this religion
with those of Romish Christianity, which was remarked by the
Jesuits who visited Tibet in the seventeenth century, and even by
Father Rubruquis in the thirteenth, might lead to the belief that
they had been borrowed entirely from this latter. . . . The discip-
line, the habits, and even the ritual of these monasteries of Tibet and
Tartary, havealso a remarkable resemblance to those of the churches
of Rome and Constantinople in the middle ages.
Prinsep refers also to Turner's astonishment at the
Tibetan antiphonal singing between the priests and people,
and its similarity to the grand ceremonies of the Romish
Church. Csoma de Koros has translated some of the
Tibetan church canticles, and Prinsep says of them that
he is himself astonished at their resemblance in spirit and
tone to parts of the litany and the psalms which are sung
or recited in the same manner in the Catholic Church.
XXVI LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 327
In the Gdographie Universelle of Malte-Brun, published
in Paris in i860, I find (vol. iii. p, 255) the following
sentence :
Rome and Lhasa, the Pope and the Dalai Lama, present to us
very interesting points of contact. The Tibetan Government,
which is entirely Lamaist, seems to be to a certain extent a copy
of the ecclesiastical administration of the States of the Church.
In conclusion one more quotation from Koeppen's
noted book Die lamaische Hierarchie und Kirche (Berlin,
1859), p. 116^/ seq.:
Older and later travellers who have penetrated into the Land of
Snow, or into one of the countries converted by it, have often ex-
pressed their astonishment at the numerous relations between the
forms of the Catholic and Lamaist cults, the similarity, nay,
identity of the ceremonies, priest's dress, sacred utensils, etc. In
the times of gross superstition this circumstance was ascribed to
the author of all evil, Satan. The Devil — it was said — the " Ape of
God," had imitated even the Christianity of the Lord God, and
founded a church which outwardly mimicked the Catholic, but was
essentially and truly nothing but a heathen creation of the Devil.
The Capuchin missionaries of last century put in the place of the
Devil the heresiarch Manes, whom they identified with Buddha, and
made the founder of Lamaism. The latest emissaries of the
Propaganda who visited Lhasa arrived at the conviction that all
the analogies of Lamaism and Catholicism, even the pontificate, the
celibacy of the clergy, the adoration of saints, confession, fasts,
processions, etc., as well as the use of exorcism, holy water, and
lastly, bells, rosaries, mitres, and croziers, etc., were all borrowed
from Christianity, and were first introduced into the Lamaist
ritual in the train of the innovations of the doctor bTsong kha pa.
. . . Itishardly possible to discuss more closely the question exactly
what Lamaism has borrowed from Christianity, and what on the
other side Catholicism has borrowed from Lamaism or Buddhism ;
we will only remark that it is a mistake to ascribe to bTsong
kha pa such far - reaching reforms that he first created the
whole Lamaist cult as it now is, and that it is, on the other hand,
quite uncritical and unhistorical to consider primitive Buddhist
institutions and usages, such as celibacy, confession and fasting,
which are all demonstrably older than Christianity, as innovations
and, moreover, imitations of Catholicism.
The rosary, too, is older in India and even Tibet than
in Europe. Koeppen (on p. 319) says :
o
28 TRANS-HIMALAYA
The home of the rosary appears to be India, whence Muslim,
and through them probably Christians, have received it, for we
cannot well credit the human brain with having twice invented this
peculiar implement.
On baptism he says (on p. 320) :
Baptism, that is, the custom of sprinkling children with water
immediately or soon after birth, or dipping them in it, and at the
same time giving them a name, is not exclusively a Christian
sacrament, but is to be found in many so-called heathen religions,
even among quite rude Shamanist peoples, and expressly as an act
of religious consecration and expiation, as a spiritual purification.
That the Lamaist Church observed the rite is a matter of course
with its hierarchical tendency.
As regards marriage Koeppen points out a difference
between the two churches (as on p. 321) :
According to the decisions of Catholic councils a man is cursed
v/ho maintains that the status conjugalis is as pure and holy as the
status virginitatis. It is, therefore, a glaring inconsistency that the
celebration of marriage, that is, the act whereby two persons pass
from a more holy to a less holy state, should be held to be a
sacrament in the Catholic Church.
Koeppen also has his opponents. Thus W. L. Heeley
in The Calcutta Review (1874, Hx. p. 139) says of him that
he is evidently a freethinker, has a bad opinion of the
priests and their ways, and "hates the lamas because they
remind him of the Catholic Church as much as some of the
Catholic missionaries hate them because they parody the
church."
In the first volume of Adrien Launay's Histoire de la
Mission du Thibet (p. 23) I find the following :
In the seventeenth century Indian caravans reported that there
were Christians in Thibet ; they had no doubt been misled, like
some historians, by the similarities between the Catholic and
Lamaist ceremonies.
One of the men of the time most renowned for his
knowledge of Buddhism, Dr. T. W. Rhys Davids, concludes
his excellent little handbook, which has run through many
editions, BMddhis??i : being a Sketch of the Life and Teach-
LAMAISM AND CATHOLICISM 329
ings of Gautama, the Buddha (London, 1903, p. 250), with
the following words :
Lamaism, indeed, with its shaven priests, its bells and rosaries,
its images and holy water and gorgeous dresses ; its service with
double choirs, and processions and creeds and mystic rites and
incense, in which the laity are spectators only ; its worship of the
double Virgin, and of saints and angels ; its images, its idols and
its pictures ; its huge monasteries and its gorgeous cathedrals, its
powerful hierarchy, its cardinals, its Pope, bears outwardly at least
a strong resemblance to Romanism, in spite of the essential differ-
ence of its teachings and its mode of thought.
In the first volume of my book I have only slightly
touched on some similarities between the two churches.
Now I have shown by all sorts of quotations that not only
Protestant students of religion, but also a large number of
Catholic missionaries, who have lived for years in Tibet,
have gone much further in their comparisons than I. Let
the reader decide for himself whether I am the one who
has committed a sin against religion, or whether the
Catholics who have poured forth the vials of their wrath
over my head should not be reproached for having permitted
themselves serious deviations from the paths of truth.
We have been lured aside into long bypaths from the
majestic valley of the Sutlej by Father Antonio de
Andrade's successful missionary journeys to the old king-
dom of Tsaparang. It is now time to take up again the
thread of the narrative. We leave the dying village to its
dreams of vanished greatness beside the roar of the royal
river, and prepare to depart from a country where once the
first Christian bells in Tibet rang in clear tones over the
desolate heights.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES
The height in the camp at the foot of the monastery-
terrace of Totling was only 12,140 feet. We were
decidedly going down. A pleasant feeling, after years of
sojourn at immense elevations, to descend again into
denser layers of air ! Two years in the highly rarefied air
16,000 to 19,000 feet above sea-level is about as much as
a European can endure. His heart and lungs are not
adapted to the scarcity of oxygen which is found up on
the borders of interstellar space. When the Dalai Lama
travels to Calcutta, he is perhaps troubled by the heat, but
he must feel the increase of the oxygen in the air agreeable.
It is otherwise with the European. When he leaves half
the atmosphere below him, the muscles and the beating of
his heart are excessively strained ; he is afflicted day and
night with the languid feeling of a convalescent after a
serious illness, which is not driven off by ten hours' rest in
the night.
I noticed the following symptoms in my own case : the
temperature of the body fell a couple of degrees below the
normal, the respiration and the pulse were quicker than
usual, and the slightest movement produced shortness of
breath ; I became at last indifferent to everything, except
the road to India; the two meals of the day I regarded as
a punishment for my sins ; hot tea and ice-cold water I
always liked, and tobacco was an indispensable companion
during the terribly long hours of solitude. A limitless
impregnable ocean extended ever around me, and its
petrified billows, which towered above me month after
330
cH.xxvii IN LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES 331
month, seemed as though they would never come to an
end. I had made my voyage long enough in calm waters,
and now I came to the strand of the sea of mountains,
where the surf stormed and tossed, and with every day it
became more apparent that the conquest of the Himalayas
was no child's play.
Now we were going down towards happy India.
After the grey unfruitful country of high Tibet, the barley-
fields on the affluents of the Sutlej seemed delightfully
green, and presently we heard tepid summer winds rustle
through the thick foliage of poplars. Even the pattering
rain was warm and pleasant ; I could throw off the felt rug
at night, for the temperature did not fall below 48°. We
seemed to be going to meet the spring. I began to enjoy
life again ; my hours of rest had more effect, and my
appetite came back. Therefore it was so inexpressibly
delightful to have descended from high elevations.
Even the Changtso, who was at first so high and
mighty, ended in becoming quite agreeable. He procured
the provisions we wanted, and bartered a saddle for a
revolver. We had no other need for his gracious assistance,
for Thakur Jai Chand had sent with Mohanlal a young
Tibetan named Ngurup Dorche, who was to act as guide.
He knew the roads to Poo, and I might take him with me
to Simla if I wished.
Ngurup Dorche headed the party when we left Totling
on August 15. We were not long to enjoy a comparatively
low altitude. From Mangnang we had descended rapidly
to the monastery which stands on the bottom of the Sutlej
trough, and now we had to mount again into higher
regions, where the road traverses the land of Chumurti in
a wide curve to the north of the river.
Our little party marches along the terrace of the left
bank before the cloister town, where temple buildings and
chhorten pyramids rise among the ruins, and here and there
a lama gives us a parting look from a dark lancet window.
The path follows up the stream north-eastwards, then turns
northwards and makes straight for the bridge over the Sutlej.
Between sheer cliffs of sandstone, running 18" N. 85 E.,
the great river contracts to a breadth of about 80 feet ; its
332 TRANS-HIMALAYA
depth must be considerable. The huge volumes of dirty
grey water roar and toss along the narrow chasm, and
present, as one looks up-stream, a grand, fascinating
spectacle of irresistible strength. Immediately below the
bridge the river expands again and becomes quieter ; the
mountains recede, leaving space for level strips along the
bank, where the erosion terraces are, however, sharply
marked or are broken through by small tributaries. But
the expansion of the valley is short, for at Tsaparang the
river again bores its way through a narrow corridor.
The bridge of Totling is a solid structure, and horses
may be trusted on its planks without the slightest anxiety.
The bridge-heads are perhaps 40 feet above the water,
and are built in the form of stone tunnels on shelves of
rock. Between the upper surfaces of the tunnel walls two
powerful iron chains are stretched from bank to bank, and
from them hangs the wooden pavement of the bridge.
The whole is so firmly jointed together that the bridge
does not perceptibly tremble under the weight of a horse.
The chains serve also as a handrail, and my white horse
had no opportunity of trying his luck in another leap.
On the right bank our direction is again westerly, and
the road runs over watercourses between hillocks of loss
and gravel. The largest of all is the valley through which
the road comes down from Gartok and the Ayi-la to
Totling, Now about 175 cubic feet of muddy water
streamed down its bed, hindering, as usual, the progress
of foot-passengers. Our path follows the river bank just
opposite Totling, and we have an excellent view of the
decayed monastic town. It finally vanishes out of sight as
we turn up a side valley, where a brook flows among fresh
meadows. Steep walls of clay, sand, and pebbles rise
beside it — the canon country has not yet come to an end.
Such is the scenery until we come to a place where
Ngurup Dorche proposes to encamp. The height is
12,290 feet. From the north-east descends a valley
named Natang, in which barley is cultivated.
Hardly had the tents been set up, when the south-west
monsoon laid a blue-black wing over the country, the day
grew dark, and the heralds of Indra blew a rumbling blast.
117 AND iiS. The Bridge of Totling.
XXVII IN LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES 333
The echo answered in the mountains and valleys, lightning
flashed like sword-blades crossing in the fight, the clouds
were rent and the rain pelted down heavily on the Natang
valley. Later in the afternoon a dull growl was heard
from up the valley. Was a violent thunder-squall coming
or a cloudburst.^ No, it was the rain-water which had
collected from all sides into a torrent, and was rolling its
heavy volumes down to the Sutlej. The noise became
slowly but steadily louder, and at last was deafening.
Every man to his feet ! The ground was quickly examined.
The tents stood in the middle of the valley. Is it
possible that the whole camp may be washed away? If
the whole valley bottom is filled with this raging water,
we shall be as in a mouse-trap under a stream of water,
for the slopes are so steep that we cannot escape by
flight.
It is too late to pack up and look about for a safer
place. Look yonder at the nearest corner above the
camp ! A dark greyish-brown wall is rolling down upon
the tents. Yes, it actually rolls over the ground, foaming
and roaring, and takes with it all the loose dust, sand, and
gravel, and all the dry grass stalks. It is impossible to
make ourselves heard. Now the air groans and the
ground shakes. At the last moment I seize my papers,
resolved that, as far as lies in my power, my notes and
maps shall not be lost.
Wonderfully fine and grand is such a spectacle, and at
the sight one almost forgets that danger threatens. I
cannot take my eyes away from the billow of rolling water.
Our excitement increases. But the torrent does not
advance as rapidly as might be expected. It fills one
yard of the bed after another, and approaches with crushing
force the place where I am standing. Now it is here.
Will it seize the tents and carry us off with it in its
triumphal course? Must I run off quickly to find a safer
spot? The water rises and will soon reach me. No,
this time it does not touch us. The tents stand on a
slight rise which bears no signs of former flooding. We
are on an island which the water cannot reach. But it
was a near shave, and had this deluge caught us in one of
334 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the narrow passages farther down we should have been in
a desperate situation.
For fully two hours this flood of looo cubic feet of
water continued to rush down the valley. Towards
evening the volume diminished, and by the next morning
was reduced to a small brook. The water was so full of
clay that if you put a hand in it and then let it dry in
the air it was covered with a glove of the finest mud.
Immense quantities of solid matter are thus washed down
into the Sutlej, and do not come to rest until the river can
build up banks of mud and sand in some expansion of the
valley. How much more powerfully and energetically
this diluvial action must have been during the pluvial
period ! It is easy to see that erosion working through a
thousand years can have produced no other result than
that here presented to the eye — a labyrinth of deeply cut
canons.
The Sutlej is the main artery for all the rain water
draining off Hundes. The river is composed of the united
volumes of innumerable tributaries which swell up and fall
according to the unequal rainfall in their basins. One day
the Natang valley may contain a small brook and the next
a great river. But in the main trench of the Sutlej the
variations are smoothed out. At Bilaspur, where the river
leaves the Himalayas and emerges into the plains of the
Punjab, we shall certainly find that when the rainy season
commences, and days with rain become more and more
numerous, the volume of the Sutlej increases steadily to
a maximum, and then diminishes as regularly when rain
becomes scarcer in autumn.
In the night of August 15 rain fell steadily and heavily,
and we made haste next day to leave the Natang valley
before the next flood came down upon us. The small side
valley which we followed northwards is excavated in yellow
loss loam which the water had made as smooth as soap.
The animals were unsafe on their feet ; they slided for-
wards or paddled in the worst mud soup. There was
generally a porridge on the bottom of the drainage bed of
the valley which looked like freshly- stirred mortar, and
when we had to wade through it the animals were in danger
iiy. \allev ui- I HE Xgari
il-TSANGPO.
I20. (JULLV NEAR NaTA.NG.
XXVII IN LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES 335
of drowning. The canon type still prevailed. We marched
between vertical or very steep walls of yellow a^olian dust ;
huge free-standing blocks, towers, and pillars reminded us,
as so often before, of the streets and lanes of a town lying
in an enchanted sleep. Innumerable ravines of all sizes
opened at the sides, and their channels spread out like the
spokes of a quadrant of a wheel. Some of these unpleasant
ditches were a yard deep and a foot broad. Had the loam
been dry it would easily have borne the weight of the
animals, but it was softened by the rain ; it gave way, and
one horse or mule after another tumbled on to his nose in
the treacherous pitfalls. When the leader of the train had
performed his tumble, the animals behind tried another
place.
This valley is sterile, dreary, and silent. The gradient
is slight. But when we come to higher regions the land-
scape changes its appearance. A bush or two, a hardy
plant, and a little grass have here and there found a refuge
at the foot of a steep wall. The loose deposits which once
filled all the Sutlej basin gradually increase in thickness,
and at the corners and projections rock in situ, phyllitic
schist, often crops out. At the last bend in the road hills
and domed summits appear in the background like holms
and peninsulas in the desert of the clay formations. Before
reaching this ground which the seolian deposits have left
untouched, we make a short halt at a small spring where
the grass is not sufficient to satisfy our ten animals.
Another day's march and the facades of the sleeping
town become lower. Occasionally an undermined block
of clay has fallen and strewed the valley floor with cubical
sharp-edged fragments. Now we have reached the cairn
which is erected on the boundary between the seolian
accumulations and the heights of Kaling-tang, covered
with pebbles and thinly clothed with tall grass. Marked
by smaller cairns and mani stones the path winds up to
the top of a commanding elevation, a stone pyramid visible
from all sides. Here it will repay us to rest a while and
slowly scan the edge of the horizon. We have just been
shut up in the narrow valley where we saw nothing but the
nearest cliffs of clay and the next bend of the valley. Now
336 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
we can breathe freely, now we can see our position, and
gain a general view of this singular country, where atmo-
spheric agents and the forces which transform the earth's
surface have worked more capriciously and left more distinct
traces than in any other part of Tibet.
North-westwards the country retains the same character
as heretofore ; an inextricable confusion of valleys, ravines,
and furrows carved into the aeolian clay, a maze of ramifi-
cations and drainage channels of every kind and dimension
down to the most insignificant and minute runnel of water.
A snowy crest towers above the yellow earth to the north-
east, belonging to the Ladak range. Westwards the horizon
is shut in by stunted domes with small shining snow-caps,
which lie not far from Shipki.
The pyramid of rock, conspicuous from a long distance,
stands on an upheaval between two valley systems. When
we leave its stones, lashed by the wind and doomed to
destruction by weathering, we follow first one of the smallest
runnels, then larger and larger gullies and ravines, cut ever
deeper into the loose crust, until the last corridor passes
into the large Shangdse valley, which runs south-west-
wards down to the Sutlej. Juicy barley-fields and marshy
meadows line its brook, and amidst them stand about fifty
square grey - washed houses decorated with streamers,
which together constitute the village of Shangdse. A
solitary more pretentious house with a chhorten before it is
the dwelling of the headman. Shangdse-gompa is built
on a hill on the right side of the valley, and consists of two
red houses and a white building surrounded by the usual
memorial pyramids. Seven lamas of the Gelugpa sect are
said to live and labour in this monastery.
The Shangdse brook carried 280 cubic feet of water,
but the following morning, after a fine night, had fallen to
180. The day had been burning hot, and with 70° at one
o'clock it was suffocatingly hot, and so much the more as
the air was still. The height was 13,760 feet.
As soon as camp 474 was pitched, lamas, villagers, and
women came up to the tents, where they sat down quite
at their ease and began to talk to us. There was not a
sign of the mistrust which we met with in Totling. How
121. The Shangdse Valley.
r
.\>
\
^ — ^ — .
'^^^■'^'^-^^^i^^m:^
i^>.
v
122. The Valley near the Rabgyeling Monastery.
Sketches by the Author.
XXVII IN LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES 2>Z7
could they suspect a caravan which came from Totling and
had a Tibetan guide ? Now that we had got past TotHng
we should no doubt find a free passage everywhere.
The next day's march was like the preceding. We
travelled north-westwards up a narrow gradually rising
valley to another hilly elevation, and saw from its cairn a
view now well known to us ; then we descended the next
valley, Choktse, which is just like the Shangdse valley.
The inhabitants of the Choktse valley dwell like ants on
the loss walls of the right flank, where they have a small
number of exceedingly primitive huts. They were at the
time out in their barley-fields attending to the irrigation
which is effected by two spring-fed brooks. The fields
are in tiers of terraces, and the water runs through open
pipes from the higher to the lower in a fixed order. The
industry and watchful care of the good men and their
wives showed that they entertained good hopes of the
year's harvest.
Oxen and cows were grazing on the meadows near the
village, the first we had seen for a long time, another hint
of warmer regions. We had, indeed, seen in the course of
the day two wild asses, and on the slopes cheerful marmots
piped shrilly from their holes. But what of that } We
were, nevertheless, about to leave the high, cold, and bare
Tibet ; we were — heavenly thought — on the way to India,
the land of legends and jungles. Barley-fields we had seen
for many days past, but now we had reached the first agri-
cultural village, a settled population instead of wandering
nomads, cattle took the place of yaks, and sheep-rearing,
which was everything up on the heights, was of only
secondary importance to the peasants whose villages we
now visited.
We have nothing to do in Choktse, so we ride past the
village, up more valleys, over more heights, and perceive
the monastery Rabgyeling-gompa on its hill in front of us.
It is melancholy and affecting to see all these religious
houses in so desolate a country. The cloister cells claim
far too large a percentage of the male population ; the
men could employ their time and strength much better
than in cleaning lamps and prostrations before golden idols.
338 TRANS-HIMALAYA
And yet I say, " Long live monasticism," Only bright
memories linger in my mind from its misty light.
Juicy meadows on the left bank of the Rabgyeling
river tempt us to encamp. I have just ordered a halt
when Ngurup Dorche cries out, " No, we cannot camp
here, sir."
" Why not ? The grass is good, the water clear, and
the weather settled."
•' Quite true, but if rain comes in the night, we shall be
cut off, for this river has a bad reputation, and is very
difficult to ford on account of its depth."
" Very well ; then we will stay on the right bank."
We waded through the pure fresh water, and then let
the animals go back to the meadows on the left bank. If
rain came we could fetch them in time.
Picturesque, rich in colouring, and mysterious as a fairy
castle, Rabgyeling-gompa lifts its streamer-adorned battle-
ments above the valley. On the highest point of the
summit of the hill a red-painted Ihakang defies the de-
structive forces of the atmosphere, the water, and the earth,
resembling the capital of a pillar or an eagle's eyrie hang-
ing over the abyss. The insecure substratum of pebbles
looked as though it must yield to the weight of the next
rain. It seems like braving God to sleep a single night
in the building. A second shrine stands at the foot of
the hill among the huts and yards of the village and
a whole tangle of chhortens. The dwellings of the monks
form a small village compound, begirt by a wall of
its own.
Conducted by two monks I paid a short visit to the
lower temple and saw there some artistically executed
mural paintings, which, however, had suffered much from
damp and the water that trickled from the roof. Other-
wise the interior was the same as usual. The two divans
were there, as well as the eight pillars with their banners
and ribands. Piles of loose sheets replaced the bound
treasures of the shelves. In the middle of the back wall
sat Buddha, six feet high and clothed in a yellow mantle.
Before him on the altar table the dii minores were set up
in rows, with lamps in brazen bowls burning in front. The
■tr. 1/ ' '
^^
y^m////^ -:-^\
A
123. Rabgyeling-gompa.
RMjy
j.'m:^^^^-^:
i >*-, r ; fS' [' >' Jl\' \ h W\
^ ■" \ ^
124. Chhortexs in Rabgyeling.
Sketches by the Author.
XXVII IN LABYRINTH OF TRIBUTARIES 339
whole was blended into a harmonic, subdued, and suffi-
ciently dirty tinge oi colour,
A ^ore, or open passage, with balustrade and a free view
on all sides, runs all round the outside of the temple and
lay-village, passing by some chhorten pyramids. In niches
at their sides are rows of prayer cylinders. When the
pilgrim or monk, in making the circuit of the kore, comes
to them, he never omits to set with his hand all these
machines revolving round their upright iron axles, and
their humming and grating accompany his steps. This
action has the same effect as if the wanderer gabbled off
all the prayers written on long strips of paper in every one
of the prayer-mills. But woe to him who turns the mills
the wrong way ! Both the rotation and the circuit of the
kore must be performed in the direction of the hands of a
watch.
Through a loophole in the inner side of the passage I
could look down into a partially underground crypt, into
which the monks would not let me enter. I could see,
however, that medallions in bas-relief, representing Bud-
dha, painted in colours and partly gilded, adorned the
longer wall. Some freshly cut TJiani stones lay on the
earthen floor and a finely chiselled stone image ; I would
have purchased it with silver coin but my offer was
refused.
Eleven serving monks lived in Rabgyeling. The
outer walls of their houses were painted greyish - blue,
red and white, in vertical stripes, a pattern intended to
proclaim the connection of the monastery with Sekiya.
The monks were as friendly disposed as the laity and their
wives, who came to our tents to sell us small pats of more
or less rancid butter.
In the light of the evening sun the higher Ihakang
shone red as blood on a sacrificial stone. The shadows
grew longer, filling the valley, v/here the stillness was
broken only by the murmur of the river. The stars,
friends of all pilgrims and wayfarers, twinkled brighter
than usual in the clear evening. The temperature sank
in the night to 34.2°. We were at a height of 13,668 feet,
and therefore 1528 feet higher than at Totling.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE devil's cauldron OF THE NGARI-TSANGPO
Astonished that the upper Ihakang had not fallen down
in the night, but still stood red and massive on its mountain
spur, I set out next day with my people from Rabgyeling.
We climb in zigzags up the heights along a narrow path,
which hangs over deep ravines and precipitous cliffs. Be-
fore we are aware we are again descending into a deep
valley, the upper part of which is called Rildigyok, and the
lower Changtang. We stay a while on the bank of its
brook and refresh ourselves with a drink of clear cold
water, which ripples down with a murmur to bring its
appointed tribute to its master, the Sutlej.
The huts, fields, and chhorten of Rildigyok are not such
as to excite any curiosity. We pass on up to more heights
and over ridges between deep ravines. As usual, we pass
up and down over a succession of valleys before we halt
at Karu-sing, which affords spring water and pasture but
contains no human dwellings. A dakpa, a Tibetan post-
runner, passed our tents at a gentle trot, carrying Thakur
Jai Chand's English post in a small satchel; he had been,
he told us, three days on the way. The satchel, which,
Ijetween Simla and Gartok, passes through several hands,
would soon be forwarded by a fresh Marathon runner.
1 his night also the minimum temperature is very close
to freezing-point, but the height is considerable, 14,108 feet.
We have derived no advantage from the regular fall of the
Sutlej, for here we are 1968 feet higher than at Totling.
This road to India is drearily long. We seem to have
travelled six miles and yet we have only covered three,
340
CHAP. XXVIII
THE NGARI-TSANGPO 341
or even less. And the distance to the frontier and the
forests on the south side of the Himalayas seems as long as
ever.
On August 20 we had still the same country, a suc-
cession of troublesome valleys separated by heights and
elevations. Rock in situ crops out more frequently, and
it is a strongly folded, much weathered, phyllitic schist.
In one of these valleys lies Sumur-gompa, quite a small
cloister, with two monks and two huts. A side valley
opening on the right is called Ldat ; its springs and
meadows exhort us to set up camp 477 at a height of
12,556 feet. In a terrace wall close by the camp there
was a cave with a barred door and closed window open-
ings. A devout monk had passed the whole of the pre-
ceding year in its darkness, and was soon to return to his
voluntary confinement.
Whistles and the tramp of horses sounded in the valley.
A lama in a skull-cap came with two natives from Beshahr,
driving before them some horses and a mule.
" Where are you going ^ " we asked.
" To Bongba in Tibet."
" What is your business there ? "
" We own three hundred sheep, which are guarded and
tended up there by Tibetans. Now we mean to fetch the
wool and carry it to the Indian side."
" Do you go up every summer } "
" Yes, but this year we have something else to see
after as well. We have heard that a fellow from Ladak
has stolen some of our sheep and has gone off to Nubra
with his booty. We are going to pursue the scoundrel."
" Good luck, and farewell ! "
The road had been terrible enough before, but I had
never found anything so topsy-turvy as on August 21. As
usual we began the day with a troublesome climb up steep
slopes, reaching at last the pass Dato-la sunk in a sharp
rocky ridge. I walk up to the cairn, and am astonished
and dumbfoundered at the sight before me. How in the
world are we ever to get down into this abyss ? The
largest, deepest erosion valley I have hitherto seen yawns
between us and a point as high on the other side. Here
342 TRANS-HIMALAYA
a huge piece of the earth's crust is wanting. Has it sub-
sided and left a trough in its place? No, running water
has ploughed out this trench in the course of enormous
periods of time ; the Ngari-tsangpo has eaten its way
downwards, carrying away one grain of dust after another,
one boulder after another, and is still continuing its work,
though at a slower rate than in the pluvial period.
I remain a while standing at the cairn. The height is
16,165 feet. Only a short step separates me from the
rocky ledge opposite, and the journey thither takes four
hours ! No words can do justice to the bird's-eye view
over this grand, richly and fantastically sculptured valley.
It will be difficult to tear myself away and travel on again.
It is better to be cautious, and not allow myself to be
bewitched by the imposing scene. There rise rocky pin-
nacles and spurs, and behind them lies the abyss and the
opposite flanks. But where is the path ? To my eyes it
seems as though it vanished under overhanging cliffs.
Hallo, here it is, dizzily steep ! Do not lose your footing,
keep hold of the side of the cliff, take care that your legs
do not slide from under you, or you will come a terrible
cropper down a blood-dripping channel.
Now it is better. The road makes a turn to the right, is
less precipitous, and has a stone parapet on the outer side.
But our delight is short-lived. Again we go down head-
long until we reach the top of a ramification, which helps
us for a time. Once we go up again, and then follow
steep slopes between jutting rocks and sheer precipices,
with an awful deeply excavated trough on the outer side,
which opens into the valley of the Ngari-tsangpo.
We slide, glide, and plant our feet firmly again, and
feel the strain at the back of the knee. We take care not
to walk in tront of the caravan, lest we should be struck
on the head by pebbles and small stones loosened by the
horses' feet, which roll down flying and twisting through
the air.
The first hour is over, but there are plenty more.
Now the path creeps into a very steep trough, so narrow
that the outstretched arms can touch both sides. Take
care that the animals keep in Indian file ! If they enter
125- The Little Bridge over the Ngari-tsangpo.
126. Ravine near Optil.
XXVIII THE NGARI-TSANGPO 343
this hole in couples they will stick fast in it, and cannot be
drawn out. There a load has fallen off and is rolling down
on its own hook to tickle a lively mule on the hind legs.
He kicks out behind, with the result that his own load slips
off. It is best to put him right again first, or the trench
will be closed up like a corked bottle.
It would be good sport to toboggan down the pebble-
covered slopes, if the slide were not so long and did not
lead straight into the jaws of death. Look, there to the
right, at the stupendous cliffs falling sheer to the valley
floor. The Ngari-tsangpo has cut its way straight through
the mass. We perceive gaps or niches left in the rough
wild ramparts of schist and quartzite by colossal blocks
which have at some time fallen out and dashed with terrific
noise down into the valley to form the natural bridge over
the Ngari-tsangpo.
Ah, here we are nearly at the bottom. Yes, but the
last bit is the worst. A series of very steep staircases in
the solid rock. If one slips down one step, it will not be
the last. It is best to put on the brake in time ; it would
be a pity if we broke our necks just at this moment when
the bottom is so near.
At last we are down and all the bones in the caravan
are whole. The sight of the cliffs as we look back is much
less awful than the view down into the yawning gulf, for
projecting points and knobs of rock hide the declivities and
so the slope cannot be seen as a whole.
On the margin by the cairn not a sound of the whirling
grinding water was audible. Half-way down a low murmur
reached our ears which increased in strength as we de-
scended. And now when we have reached the valley
floor, we hear the water tossing madly among rocks and
boulders. We see only two stretches of the river as we
climb down. All the rest is hidden by cliffs and projec-
tions. The erosion downwards has progressed so power-
fully and rapidly that the weathering of the valley slopes
has not been able to keep pace with it. In places the
river has worked so far in advance that whole cliffs are
undermined and lean like arches over the water.
Here, too, in the depth of the valley the wild, bold
344 TRANS-HIMALAYA
sculpture makes a grand effect, and we shall be glad to
pause a while on the small, very original bridge. But
where is the bridge and where is the river ? The green
foaming water seems to dive into the earth and disappear.
Wait, here is the bridge. It is just six and a half feet
long. Did we not see it with our own eyes, we should by
no means credit the statement that the largest of the
northern tributaries of the Sutlej, which drains vast areas
of the highlands of Chumurti, can find room under a bridge
six and a half feet long. Even if the bridge were to fall
in, foot passengers at any rate could still cross the river.
But the leap would be dangerous and a false step would
infallibly lead to death.
Two huge blocks of stone several thousand cubic feet
in dimensions have fallen into the narrowest part of the
river channel and have taken up a most favourable position.
The tops are on the same level and similarly flattened
above and form a vault under which the river forces its
way. But the vault has a gap, for the blocks do not touch
each other. A gap six and a half feet broad separates the
two. At first sight one would bet ten to one that they
were part of a sill of solid rock, for their lower edges are
covered with smaller boulders, pebbles, and sand. But a
moment's thought convinces us that so great a river could
not have cut its way into so narrow a trench without
widening its bed sideways by means of loose blocks, sharp-
edged detritus, and other polishing material. Ngurup
Dorche also knew that, according to local tradition, the
blocks had actually fallen down and built excellent bridge-
heads. The two were originally one block and were
broken in two by the fall.
After nature had accomplished the hardest part of the
work, all that men needed to do was to lay two short tree
trunks over the gap between the blocks. Boughs and
joists were laid crosswise on the trunks and the whole was
covered with hard stones. The bridge, five feet broad
and without a parapet, hangs some 65 feet above the
water. It is heard boiling and fuming down below, but
the river is not visible, for the trench-like abyss is pitch
dark. The fissure widens out just below the bridge, and
xxviii THE NGARI-TSANGPO 345
there the foaming arched billows are seen fighting with
boulders and rocky points. The unfortunate man who fell
into this whirlpool would be torn into small pieces. A huge
spout of water, as powerful as the flywheel of a machine,
shoots down at one spot and then wells up in another in
flat hissing bubbles, and next moment forces its way into
a narrow gorge. And if the lost one survived the first
billow, and did not lose consciousness, he would grope in
vain for a point of rock to which to cling. These walls
are vertical, polished, and smooth, and no power on earth
could resist the pressure of the water from above and
withstand the wild rush of the waterspouts.
The bridge is called, like the country, Optil. The
Ngari-tsangpo rushes on foaming to the north-west, and,
as far as can be seen in either direction, the valley is
equally deep and wild, though the channel is more con-
tracted just at the bridge than elsewhere. Ngurup Dorche
was quite right in saying that the whole wide detour which
the road makes on the north side of the Sutlej is rendered
necessary solely by the Ngari-tsangpo, which cannot be
crossed at a single place below the bridge of Optil. The
stretch of the river which we see immediately above the
bridge at the foot of vertical undermined cliffs, gives an
idea of its general appearance. The water here forms
rapids in a small foaming bed between great masses of
rounded boulders, and it strives to eat its way into the
base of the cliffs. Possibly the river is as deep as it is
broad, and therefore it is difficult to estimate its volume.
Such a river cannot be forded ; the bed is too narrow and
too deep, its fall is too great, and its water possesses
irresistible force. Therefore there is no choice but to
travel by a roundabout way and over the tiny bridge
which spans the huge channel like a match.
We test the bridge. Wind and weather have half-
consumed its beams, and it is m.uch Loo heavily weighted
with stones, which only serve to prevent the feet of the
animals sinking in between the planks in passing over.
Yet nasty holes yawn between the slabs ; they have to be
covered up with more stones. Two men try their luck on
the wretched thing and walk rolling and stamping across
346 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
the chasm. A mule is led over. The bridge holds. A
second crosses with his load on. The shy horses from
Chang-tang stop, cock their ears, and start at the heavy
awful thunder that rises from the bosom of the earth. A
stroke of the whip loosens their legs ; the bridge is only
six and a half feet long, and in two strides they are safely
over.
Huge volumes of water groan, splash, and tumble
against the slabs and blocks of stone, and yet we cannot
draw a drop of water if we have no mind to fall into the
bed above the bridge. We all prefer to wait till the next
spring, but we wish we were there. For in the Devil's
Cauldron of the Ngari-tsangpo a different climate reigns
than on the free open heights above, where the winds of
heaven whistle freely round the cairn. The thermometer
marks 71.2^ in the shade ; not a breath of air stirs in the
conhned valley and the suffocating heat is very oppressive.
I have discarded my Tibetan mantle and appear in a dress
which is light indeed, but comical rather than becoming.
At the cairn of the pass we had been at a height of
15,279 feet; the height at the bridge of Optil was 12,556
feet, a difference of 2723 feet, three Eiffel towers on the top
of one another in an hour and a half! The cairn stood 223
feet above the surface of the Langak-tso, and now we were
2500 feet below the lake. Such figures give a notion of
this road. On the Tibetan side of the Himalayas one
cannot dance light-footed and gleefully as on roses. But
it is grand, bewitching, and enchanting, and inspiriting to
travel over the tributaries of the Sutlej, where the rivers
strike their chords in accompaniment to the wanderer's
steps, and their ringing metallic music calls forth a thousand
echoes from the steep rocky cliffs.
How different from the valley of the Tsangpo ! There
a difference of level amounting to three thousand feet took
as many months to descend as here it takes hours. That
is the difference between the plateau country, where
horizontal lines predominate, and the peripheral Himalayan
region, the country of vertical lines. In the enclosed basin
of Chang-tang all the products of weathering are carried
towards the centre and have contributed for countless ages
127. The Devil's Cauldron of the Ngari-tsaxgpo.
XXVIII THE NGARI-TSANGPO 347
to level down the country. Here, on the other hand, they
are all washed away and the earth's crust is cut down
deeply. One is awestruck at this transition from the flat
landscape to the sculptured. I know nothing which can
compare in overpowering beauty with the scenes which are
displayed at every turn before the eyes of the traveller as
he witnesses the combat of the Sutlej with the Himalayas.
Nature affords no grander parallel to the fight of St.
George with the Dragon. The Himalayas lie pierced
through at our feet, while the river sings its psean of
victory, tossing to the end of time.
The ascent begins again. We must climb up just as
high as we have slid down on the steep slopes of the
left side. We strive and struggle, and yet cover no
appreciable distance. If we could place all the ascents
together and all the descents, the result would be a length
of road amounting to several times the distance of an air
line over the Himalayas.
On the flank of the left side we notice the marks of a
stupendous landslip. A mass equal in volume to all the
pyramids of Egypt together has broken loose and fallen to
the bottom of the valley. The path runs up between its
fragments and the remaining precipitous cliff, past boulders,
through detritus, and over hillocks, ravines, and furrows.
A small clear and icy cold rivulet takes pity on our thirst,
and we all drink deep draughts of it. Then we go on
again. The gradient is steep, and we zigzag up at a
terribly slow pace. The animals labour, sweat, and pant in
quick and hasty gasps ; one would think they must burst
from want of breath. The valley we follow leads up to a
small saddle, and beyond this we cross another valley
hollow, where the water collects into a bed which also pays
tribute to the Ngari-tsangpo. At the top a view again
opens out over the wild valley, and now we can see the
Dato-la and its stone pyramid, beside which we stood not
long ago. But of the roar of the river not a whisper
reaches us.
Grass, herbs, and thorny bushes form here and there
ragged clumps. Otherwise the path winds through bare
boulders and weathered debris, and schist stands in sihi.
348 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
The strike and dip of the rock, about 30° to the north-west,
is the same on both sides. The valley is isoclinal, and the
river has a tendency to follow the top of the fold ; therefore
the flanks on the left side are the steeper, and the Ngari-
tsangpo is undermining them.
The camp this day was pitched at the spring Koldoktse,
at a height of 14,275 feet. No rain was heard in the night,
though the sky threatened rain. But after a minimum of
45.3° in the night the storm broke loose at daybreak, and
as we packed up our things the rain pelted down on the
flanks of the mountains.
The spring Koldoktse was only a stage on the way to
the pass Dambak-la. After this saddle is reached we go
down rapidly to the valley Sasser, watered by a small
brook. Then we climb again up the Tsanglangma-kesa
side valley and come to Sanak among jagged rocks and
over flat or steep hills into higher regions, marching in a
west-north-westerly direction. At last we are up at the
cairn on the flattened pass Pooche-la, where the instruments
give a height of 16,165 feet above sea-level, or 3609 feet
above the bridge of Optil.
A brook rises just at the top, and we follow it down
to an expansion of the valley called Manchu-chen, where a
circular stone sheep-fold stands on a flourishing meadow.
Sumbu-tar and Bichutse are other valleys on our way ; in
the latter we encamp at a spring.
During the day we had the wind in our faces, with rain
and hail, and I was glad to have the Tibetan mantle.
Thunder rolled and the weather was raw and cool. At
one o'clock the thermometer marked 43.5°, or nearly two
degrees lower than the minimum of the preceding night.
This was somewhat different from the summer heat in the
gorge of Optil, where we had had nearly 72°. The night of
August 22 was starlight and calm, and the air was cooled
down to 29.5 . Such cold we had never felt since we had
left l^okchen a month before. The morning sun shed its
gold brilliantly and clearly over the earth, but its shafts
were crossed by the monsoon which began early to drive its
blue-grey cloud chariot over the mountains.
We travelled in a subdued light and comfortably warm
XXVIII THE NGARI-TSANGPO 349
air to the pass, and thence down into the Chuwang-chung
valley, the brook of which unites with the Gyesowang
river. The landscape now assumes a different character.
Beyond the pass Piang-la the ground falls to the north and
north-east, and where the path makes a bend to the south-
west the ascent is continuous. To the right of our road
rises a very considerable range with snowy peaks, and
contours which vividly remind us of the Surla range in the
Trans- Himalaya. It seems to run west-north-west.
From a valley in this range runs the voluminous
Tokchen-chu river, receiving additions from several trans-
verse valleys. We do not allow ourselves to be tempted to
encamp by the attractive meadows of these valleys, but try
to get down to the mouth of the Lungun valley, where four
black nomad tents beside the brook present an unusual
sight. We encamp near them (camp 480) at a height of
15,594 feet. We were quite in the highlands of Tibet
again. Shepherds driving at even their gently bleating
lambs and ewes into the folds, grunting yaks, columns of
greyish-blue smoke rising from black tents, no fixed settle-
ments, no tilled fields, and no poplars. A heavy snowfall,
now and then interrupted by rain, darkness spread by thick
clouds over the earth — all seemed to indicate that we had
again returned from the depth of the warm valleys into
lofty Tibet, to say a last farewell to the friendly amiable
nomads.
27^ in the night of August 23 ! This degree of cold
also was a parting greeting from the home of eternal
winter. It seemed as though summer were passing us by,
followed by early autumn. But wait ! The next night
we were to have it 21° warmer, and two days later the
minima would be higher than the maxima here. And
in a few weeks we should be almost melted by the heat, and
think with regret of the fresh mountain air and the cool
summer snow.
But when I awoke in the Lungun valley, felt the icy
cold air, and saw the threatening sky, the bare hills of
detritus and the snow-clad mountains, I thought that we
had not gained much by our month's journey from
Tokchen, It was still cold and raw, and we were still at
:>=o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxvm
JO
the same enormous height above sea-level. What good
had the two crossings of the Sutlej at Kyung-lung and
Totling done us, and why had we worn out ourselves
and our animals among the innumerable side valleys ?
Warmth, life and Simla were just as far off, and we had not
yet even commenced the actual crossing of the Himalayas.
The Sutlej still streamed north-westwards. At Shipki the
river first makes a decided turn to the south-west to begin
its stormy course through the Himalayas, overcoming all the
obstacles it encounters. The Indus takes a step farther,
and in the neighbourhood of Gilgit bends at right angles to
break through the mountains by the shortest way. And
farther than all travels the Brahmaputra, which flows
through two-thirds of Tibet parallel to the Himalayas
before it puts forth its strength on the noted breach of the
Dihong valley.
The country round Lungun was a boundary stone on
our way. Now we had done with the deep trying side
valleys, and we had passed successfully through the canon
country. Another country awaited us, other forms of
surface, which were not less grand than the former, nay,
even more stupendous and astonishing. But now the
breach through the mightiest mountain system of the world
was before us.
CHAPTER XXIX
DOWN TO THE SUTLEJ
Now came days of excitement.
A quickly passing hail shower rattled down on the
mountain flanks as we took down the tents on August 24,
and saw for the last time Tibetan herdsmen go to pasture
with their sheep, and drive up their yaks to be milked.
We ascended to the pass over a gently rising flat of gravel.
To the right of the road ripples the brook Neribke, and
beyond Kongkong-la rises the lofty range with its snow
belts. At length the road comes up to the Dungmar-la
pass, which is adorned at the top by an elegant cairn,
resembling, with its red-painted poles, streamers and horns,
a bloody sacrificial stone dedicated to heathen gods.
To the south the eyes rove freely over the mighty
Himalayan range, which we shall soon cross by the Shipki
pass, and on this side of its steep flanks we can perceive
the deep wild valley of the Sutlej. At a short distance to
the west stands a crest with fields of firn and grey pinnacles.
Now and then we hear stones and rocks sliding down the
nearest declivities ; they are the voices of weathering which
announce the law of transitoriness to mountain masses of
the hardest granite.
At the stone pyramid of the Dungmar pass we are at a
height of 15,919 feet above the sea. Now comes some-
thing different. Our road runs south-west, and we go
headlong over endless declivities. What a wonderful
view ! We feel so helpless, small, and lost in this grand,
wildly dissected country. Tagha and Shing-chig-ma are
names the guide whispers into my ear. The Chang-tang
351
352 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
with its nomad life lies far behind us. We are coming to
agricultural villages and men who are alike in all respects
to their congeners on the heights except in the words of
greeting, borrowed from Mohammedans of India, " Salaam,
Sahib," But they are just as good Lamaists as any citizen
of Lhasa, as is proved by the well-kept mani walls and
streamered cairns which line the road.
Gradually we come down from great elevations into
lower regions. I lean with my right hand on the left
shoulder of Lobsang, and thus walk more surely and
quickly over hillocks of nasty granite blocks, through sand
and rubbish which gives way under the feet, and over
slopes of soil scantily clothed with grass and halms. I feel
the air growing denser and warmer, Down in the valley
below us I perceive the Tomlang-tsangpo as a motionless,
noiseless thread of bluish-green, interwoven with white
foaming rapids.
Still we go on. We pass down the last slopes, and
find at the bottom an irrigation channel which conducts
water from the river to the barley-fields of the village of
Tangmet, which lie on a sloping ledge high above the
valley bottom. Splashing among round polished blocks of
light-coloured granite the Tomlang-tsangpo forces its 350
cubic feet of water in a single shoot between the stone
walls abutting on the banks, which support a small awkward
bridge. It consists of two slender tree-trunks a foot apart,
and is simply covered with a row of stone slabs. This
small wicked-looking frame may be safe, but it is prudent
to keep in the middle of the stone pavement, for otherwise,
as one trunk bends more than the other, one may fall
head first into the greenish-white spray. My men carried
the baggage over, supporting one another, and the animals
were driven through the river farther down, where the
water was quiet.
Here is active life, here the spirits of earth toil and do
not sleep, as on the heights of Chang-tang. Here the
water dashes through steep valleys eager to reach the sea.
See that brook, which has washed itself out a ravine in the
high mountains away to the west, and now rushes merrily
through a rocky portal into the Tomlang-tsangpo. The
HI
f^^
jWBa^ •■#)'■'*-«' j^*--
-i
mtm'^
12S. Bridge over 'ihe Tomlang-tsangpo.
129. Mountain Range on the Frontier of Tibet and India.
XXIX DOWN TO THE SUTLEJ 353
village of Pera lies on a cornice above the valley in the
middle of its fields, mani walls and chhortens. The road
passes the village. It is rough and dangerous, and takes
us up to the small Puge-la saddle, and then goes down
again in sharp zigzags very rapidly nearly to the bottom
of the valley, where the village of Puge stands, on the top
of a terrace like those on which Tangmet and Pera have
found sites. The barley fields stretch to the very edge
of the terrace, and the heavy swelling ears ripening for
harvest undulate over the valley.
We do not stop, but pass by Puge's stone houses, their
projecting windows and balconies raised on piles, which
give us a foretaste of the architecture in vogue in the
Himalayas. Two willows with dense foliage enhance the
charm of the little village. The men from Ladak are here
reminded of their home and raise a cheerful song as we
troop by. Shy villagers come out to gaze at us ; the dogs
bark till they are almost hoarse, and come to loggerheads
with Takkar and Little Puppy, while the river roars in the
valley below. It is really a joyous life, a foretaste of the
days awaiting us on the way to Simla.
Beyond the village the path is disagreeable, for now it
runs as a small ledge along a slope bestrewn with sharp-
edged phyllitic schist and light-coloured gneiss, but soon
it goes down to the village Yer, a closely packed cluster of
stone huts on the left bank of a side valley which opens on
the right. The Buddhist religion is highly honoured by
the people of Yer, as may be seen from the silent monu-
ments and speaking stones. Three chhortens raise their
pyramids in the middle of a field, and from the ashes within
blessings pour forth over the thriving corn in its bright
dress of juicy green.
A sorry bridge crosses the brook of the side valley.
Takkar, who had crossed the bridge of Pera with the
greatest caution, found the bridge of Yer below all criticism,
and preferred the 280 cubic feet of water which separated
him from the farther bank. When all the caravan had
crossed, heroically but howling piteously he plunged into
the swirling waves, and was in a moment swept away to a
block of stone, on to which he crawled up with an effort,
2 A
354 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
quite dizzy already. There he sat very mournfully, a prey
to bad luck ; he coughed and cleared his throat after all the
cold water he had had to swallow, and then howled at the
sight of the billows that boiled and foamed on both sides
of the block. We pitched our camp on the right bank and
amused ourselves vastly, though perhaps heartlessly, at the
pitiful situation into which the big dog had fallen. After
Takkar had made himself ridiculous long enough, and had
done penance enough for his fear of the bridge, he slipped
yelping into the water, fought bravely with the waves, and
came again safely but dripping wet on to dry land.
It was long since so charming a landscape had sur-
rounded our tents. They stood on a narrow strip of
ground between a vertical cliff and the murmuring brook.
Mild breezes rustled through the crowns of the willows
and set the bright green barley fields in motion against
the background of grey sheets of rock. The prayer
streamers fluttered lazily on their poles ; half-naked, dear,
dainty little children played on the flat roofs of the huts,
and their bright laughter echoed among the hills. Now
and then was heard the bark of the village tykes, and the
river ceaselessly sang its plaintive ballad of the endlessly
long journey to the sea.
Between Dungmar-la and Yer we had descended 3524
feet in two hours. How delightful it was to breathe this
dense warm air ! The thermometer marked about one
o'clock P.M. 70.7°, against 44.1^ on the preceding day, and
the minimum at night was only 48°. Well may white men
be eager to escape from the suffocating heat of India to
the cool air of Simla, or of some other hill station on
the southern flank of the Himalayas. But it is still more
glorious to come down from the cold rarefied air of Tibet
into the warmth of deep valleys. It is a feeling like that
of convalescence after an illness, like rest after hard work,
and like pleasant dreaming on flowery meads on mild days
beside the sea. Even the nights are delightful ; there is
no need to load the body with warm skins and rugs, and I
lie long awake just to enjoy breathing freely, for respiration \
is a pleasure and no longer a bodily exertion. Sleep is
heavenly and waking is pleasant. And if I do not sleep
DOWN TO THE SUTLEJ 355
so many hours as up yonder, I derive greater benefit from
the night's rest.
Our elation increases as the heights diminish. The
boundless level expanses of Tibet and the extensive views
are gone, and we find ourselves in a country where the
horizon hangs above our heads in a jagged line. When I
get into the saddle in the morning I know that a series of
surprises await me. Such was the case also when we left
Yer. At the first bend in the valley we ride for a long
time along the fields of the village of Tsar and between
the willows on a small hill. Another bend and Shinggun-
gompa, the village of Pude and its grove of dense foliage
are left behind. A tributary intercepting our road is
crossed without a bridge. Near the village of Niru we
again leave the valley bottom to mount the heights.
We have to cut across a tip of the great range which
rises between our valley and that of the Sutlej. There is
said to be another path down below, but only foot-passengers
can make use of it. Uphill, then, and over steep slopes,
over ledges of solid rock in natural staircases, among
boulders and detritus. The path is often exceptionally
steep and is always troublesome. We rise ever higher
above the valley floor, and the murmur of the stream dies
away. At length we are up on the Rongtotke-la pass,
with its cairn standing at an elevation of 13,690 feet.
Dumb with astonishment at the magnificent view which
here meets my eyes, I remain for a time by the cairn to
admire it. In the depths below the Sutlej lies as in a
trough, and the famous river flows down from the south-
east. Confined between its precipitous cliffs, which form
corridors and huge stone columns, it winds along like a
greenish white belt, apparently motionless and silent as
the grave. The horizontal distances are insignificant, the
vertical appalling. One would think a shout could be
heard at the village of Shipki to the south-west, so plainly
visible are its huts, terraced fields, and orchards. Above
the village rears itself the mighty crest which has had to
wait for our coming ; but now we shall soon be there.
The Shipki-la is sunk in its ridge, and just to the right of
it we perceive the huge deeply excavated breached valley
356 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
of the Sutlej. Unfortunately the magnificent view is a
little blurred by fine rainy drizzle, and wisps of white cloud
which sail like warships about and beneath the crests. But
the Shipki-la is not as near as we think. We must first
clamber down as low as we can, down to the level of the
Sutlej, and then mount to dizzy heights on the other side.
The thought that the Shipki-la is the last pass along the
whole road to Simla consoles us, however, and after an
unusually long rest we leave the Rongtotke-la to the mercy
of the winds and begin the endless descent.
Now come numerous zigzags running down steep
declivities and banks, deeply cut wedge-shaped ravines,
and bending round shoulders of mica-schist, the road runs
rapidly down slopes bestrewn with sharp rubbish, destruc-
tive to my Tibetan boots. A little brook has worn out a
cleft in the rock, and the road again hangs like a cornice
over the depths. If the loads are packed too broad the
animals may be pushed over the edge. Then come more
steep slopes full of boulders and pebbles. We are still far
off, but the roar of the river reaches our ears as a slight
murmur. Down below we see the bridge of Lopchak. It
looks fearful in the distance, weak and fragile as a match.
One steep slope after another is left behind, and we go
down lower and lower. The river looks larger, the roar
sounds louder through the denser air and in the contracted
valley. We stumble down another length and reduce the
height by a hundred yards, and then by another, and thus
gradually approach the great river. The view contracts
as the mountains rise ever higher. Now the roar of the
river fills all the valley. The bridge is the central feature
in the scene ; over its swinging hammock runs the road
to Shipki.
We traverse a few more hundred yards and hurry down
the last slopes of detritus. The gradient becomes less,
and at last we are down on the flat meadow on the right
bank of the Sutlej, in a locality called, like the bridge,
Lopchak. The tents are set up near the well-situated
village of Korang. Fancy always having the enjoyment
of such a view ! To see the river rise during the rainy
season and slowly fall in autumn and winter until it reaches
i^o. Goats on the Lopchak Bridge.
131. On the Shipki-la.
DOWN TO THE SUTLEJ 357
its lowest level ; to follow the struggles of water against
the cold, and to watch the belt of ice on the banks growing
broader, while snow accumulates on the flanks of the valley
which are not too steep to retain it. At last the river is
spanned by a bridge of ice, and the white covering holds
it in its clutches. Then comes spring, the snow and ice
melt, and the river rises ; the passes that have been closed
by snow so long are open again for traffic. The Sutlej
comes to life and the people of Korang can hear the pulsa-
tions of its movement month after month.
From Rongtotke-la to the bridge of Lopchak we
descended 3906 feet in two hours, for the Sutlej here lies
at a height of 9784 feet.
While the men were putting the tents in order I made
a closer examination of the bridge. As at Kyung-lung and
Totling nature has done most of the work. A huge boulder
lies on the right bank of the river, and there is solid rock
on the left. Between the two the river is squeezed up to
a breadth of 74 feet. A broad flight of stone steps leads
to the upper slab of the right bridgehead, where a passage
or portal of stone bears a small white chhorten. The
vaulted roof of the portal is richly ornamented with fresh
paintings and prayer formulae for the edification of those
who trust their lives to the wretched planks that swing
over the stream. The usual trunks which support the
bridge itself are firmly fixed in the Cyclopean wall of the
bridgehead. The upright stone pier of the left bridgehead
is built on a slanting ledge of rock, and looks as if it might
at any moment slip down into the river. In this wall also
tree trunks are inserted, and thus the span of the bridge
is shortened by several yards. In other respects the con-
struction is of the usual design, two beams with joists of
wood, planks, and boughs irregularly placed. These are
held in position by posts attached to the beams below the
wooden joists. The beams are fastened at the bridgehead
by blocks of stone, which unnecessarily add considerably to
the weight.
I take up my position where the suspended part of the
bridge commences, and there can see that the whole struc-
ture dips under its own weight in an uncomfortable curve.
358 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Below me the great river tosses as it is sucked in furiously
between the bridgeheads. Any one who is not quite sure
on his feet had better keep off this bridge, for it is narrow
and has no balustrade, and through the chinks between the
planks the boiling water is seen, and one feels as though
the bridge were rushing upstream. An involuntary start
may pitch a man over. A skilled swimmer, however, would
probably work his way out again. In the middle of the
bridge the woodwork is 24^ feet above the water.
The bridge was doubtless not so bad when it was new
and the two beams were fairly straight. But now it is old
and badly worn, and hangs askew in an alarming manner.
Its woodwork has been drenched by heavy rains, heated and
scorched by the sun, covered with snow in winter and eaten
into by frost, and under a load a trifle too heavy the two
beams would snap like glass. The worst is that the beam
on the upstream side makes a much greater curve than its
neighbour, so that the whole bridge as seen from the right
bank tilts to the right. There is, therefore, a danger of
slipping and falling, and all the more because several cross
planks have been worn smooth.
The inhabitants of the village of Korang, who are
responsible for it, said that they had intended to restore
the bridge during the last low water, but after mature con-
sideration they came to the conclusion to rely another year
on the protection of the chJiorten tower. I expect that the
bridge will one day strike work, when it can no longer bear
the traffic. " If I can only get over safely, it may do what it
likes afterwards," is, no doubt, the thought of every traveller.
So I, too, thought as I sat up there looking at the rotten
planks which hung over the formidable Sutlej, and shook
and swayed back and fro even in the gentle breeze blowing
in the valley.
I drew for perhaps an hour. But no one came. Was
the critical moment so near that no one would venture over
any more ? No ! Tripping steps are heard on the steps.
Two Tibetans drive fifty goats laden with salt up to the
small open platform of the bridgehead. The men shout
and whistle shrilly, but the goats will not move from the
spot. And when goats get any notion into their heads,
DOWN TO THE SUTLEJ 359
there is nothing to be done with them. One man seizes
two goats by the horns and drags the refractory, jumping
and rearing animals out on to the bridge, while his comrade
drives some others after him. Encouraged by this sight,
the whole troop dashes suddenly over the chasm. It is
a wonder that none of the four-footed lunatics is pushed
over the edge. The bridge sways up and down ; surely
one more goat would cause it to give way. I drew
a breath of relief when the whole troop was over and
disappeared in a cloud of dust among the hills on the other
side.
CHAPTER XXX
FAREWELL TO TIBET
Such heat as in the night of August 25 the minimum
thermometer had not marked for two whole years ; we had
54.1°. Accompanied by Tubges I went off to the bridge.
As a herdsman from the Shyok valley, accustomed to the
wildly fissured dales and the foaming summer floods and
the shaking bridges of Ladak, he was considered by us all
as the most surefooted, and therefore my maps and notes
were to be committed to his care. The valuable results
of nine months' work lay packed in three small boxes from
Tokchen, and Tubges was to carry them over one at a
time, so that should he stumble all would not be lost. He
crossed over safely with one box, balancing himself on
straddling legs, before I thought of suggesting that he
should crawl over and push the boxes before him. When
the other two were safely deposited on the other bank I
felt relieved, and sat down on them to watch what would
happen next.
With a bale on his back Suen came up to the bridge-
head. But when he saw the swinging stage and looked
down on the whirling water he stopped, shook his head,
and turned round. The bursts of laughter of his comrades
goaded him on, and holding his breath and carefully
balancing himself, he walked on, and when he had come
safely over began to dance and sing, and he took a solemn
oath that he would never set foot again on this bridge.
Gulam, Kutus, and Lobsang went backwards and forwards
to carry tents, bags, and saddles over to the left bank, and
soon all the baggage was transported.
Now came the mules and horses. A smart old man of
360
CHAP. XXX FAREWELL TO TIBET 361
Korang, who knew all about the bridge, came of his own
accord to offer his assistance. The first mule crossed,
feeling his footing at each step, and his comrades followed
with the same cool composure and intelligence. Then
the old man from Korang led a black horse safely over
the bridge, and was just as successful with another. A
third horse did not like the look of things, but soon
consented to follow his leader.
The two white horses were the worst, as usual. The
large one jibbed at the sight of the bridge, backed so far
over the top of the stone wall that his hind legs slipped
over the edge, and he would certainly have fallen and
broken his neck if two Ladakis had not rushed forwards
and held him till help came. While he was recovering
from his fright the old man took my riding horse by the
halter and stepped on to the bridge. I expected to see
him plunge over again, but the horse kept quite quiet,
and followed the man, only quickening his pace a little as
he neared firm ground.
The old man of Korang seemed to possess an especial
gift of overcoming the fear of refractory steeds for the
bridge. He induced the other white horse also to follow
him, but the animal wished to make short work of the job
and began to gallop so fast that the bridge shook more
than ever. It was a grand feat to gallop over the wretched
thing without slipping or putting his feet between the
joists. He came over trembling in all his limbs, and then
there was general jubilation.
The caravan was laden and the day's march was com-
menced along the left bank, where a fine long mani wall
was erected, and the river roared beneath us. Rokti-chu
is a small side valley with a turbulent brook, spanned by a
bridge of the usual kind. Then the slopes become less
steep, and we recede from the Sutlej.
A bend in the road and then the roar of rapids again
reaches our ears. Beyond it lies the village of Chok, the
most idyllic spot I have seen in Tibet. The road traverses
quite a park of poplars and willows, and half-ripe yellow
fruit hangs on the apricot trees. Small runnels ripple
among the trees, and pleasant cool shade is afforded by the
J
62 TRANS-HIMALAYA
dense vaults of foliage. Here and there a hut peeps
through the leaves, and a streamer pole stands beside the
smallest temple I have ever seen. Above the park stands
the village itself in the form of an amphitheatre, with a
grand view of mountains and valleys, and the road runs on
a level with the roofs of the uppermost row of houses, on
which apricots are spread out to dry.
For a time we follow the foot of a cliff, and then mount
rapidly over solid rock, gneiss, and mica-schist, where the
road is improved with stone walls and hurdlework. Then
over more rapids we come to Largyep, where the villagers
are engaged in mowing their fine crop of barley. Up
and down we go into valleys and out again, past long
mani walls and through a solitary chkorteri gateway with
portraits of Buddha as ceiling paintings, to whom the
gods of the mountains pay silent homage. At last
the path shoots headlong to the bottom of a valley,
where the brook Salve-chu tumbles down with a deafening
noise.
The bright frothy water rushes in reckless rapids over
round, smoothly-polished boulders, hisses, whirls, and
seethes as if it could not get down quickly enough to the
Sutlej. A firm bridge affords us a passage over the Salve-
chu to the left bank, and over steep rocky slopes we come
to the end of our day's march, Shipki, our last camp on the
sacred soil of Tibet.
Shipki was also my finest camping ground in Tibet.
The tents were pitched on a grassy slope, where there was
a sweet fresh odour of soil and juicy grass, and the apricot
trees afforded cool shade. The wind blew in strong gusts,
and produced a pleasant rustle in the trees, while the
Salve-chu murmured at the bottom of the scarp. On a
higher slope of the bank stood an agricultural village, and
gigantic peaks kept guard in the background, veiled in
dense clouds. As though to render our halt near the
village more agreeable, men and women presented them-
selves, calling out politely, " Salaam, Sahib," and bringing
small presents of butter, milk, and fruit. No one showed
any disposition to stop us on the threshold of India.
The night was calm and mild, with a temperature of
n,T,. The Lopchak Bridce.
134. The Sutlej Valley below Lopchak.
XXX FAREWELL TO TIBET 363
56.3° ; the stars twinkled through the foliage of the apricot
trees, and blustering wind and rushing water lulled us to
sleep. We were in marching order early in the morning,
and prepared to mount to greater heights, accompanied by
crowds of beggars and flies. The former placed them-
selves in our way at every turn, holding out small bouquets
of flowers. They were the last Tibetans I saw, and how
could I refuse them a trifle ? They gradually disappeared,
and the winged pests also became fewer as we mounted.
The flies which swarmed round us on the other side of the
pass were British subjects.
We had, fortunately, picked up five yaks in Shipki. We
could, therefore, spare our own animals in crossing the pass.
The climb begins as soon as we leave the yards, fields, and
conduits behind us. The path winds steeply up between
boulders and pebbles, over marshy furrows with rank grass,
over purling brooks, and along troublesome slopes and
dome-shaped hills. In the narrow hollow of a flat ravine
lies the last tilled field belonging to Shipki. At Yayur
begins the hardest ascent, and here we must go slowly.
The animals take two steps, and then have to stop to re-
cover their breath. Even the yaks breathe heavily. They
stare with their bloodshot eyes, and their purplish tongues
hang dripping from their mouths.
High up on the other side of the Sutlej monks of the
monastery Puri-gompa enjoy a splendid view from their
loopholes. Yonder rises the wildly fissured, wonderfully
beautiful summit of the Rio Porgyul above this world of
majestic mountains, but clouds often spread their veil over
the brow of this giant. It stands there like an outpost of
the series of royal peaks which stretch their arc along the
north of India, and contain among them the highest in the
world.
Behind us, in the direction of the bridge of Lopchak, we
see the Sutlej meandering dov/n below and struggling with
the mountains, an overpowering view, a scene of sublime
grandeur such as only the Himalayas can display. The
whole valley lies like a bottomless abyss below us, and
around us tower the crests, their battlements piercing the
clouds. We have ourselves climbed so high that wisps of
364 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
cloud, pure white like steam, conceal the valley from us at
times. Now and then a little drizzle falls, and the air is
cool. Not far to the right we descry the point of the rocky
ridge up which we are painfully toiling to the Shipki-la.
From its edge there is a sheer fall to the dizzy abyss in
which the Sutlej has carved out its wild breach. Never
has human eye beheld the cliffs of that dim foaming cutting.
Will a way ever be blasted through it, a road which will
save caravans the crossing of the Shipki-la ?
After a last very trying ascent we are up at the cairn.
The yakdrivers called the pass Pimig-la, but said that
it was frequently named Shipki-la, after the village.
The height is 15,404 feet, and we have mounted 5620
feet again from the Lopchak bridge, so deep has the
Sutlej cut into the Himalayas at this point. Unluckily,
the view over the mountains on the Indian side was inter-
cepted by thick clouds, beneath which only the huge
valley was visible, but not the river, as it lies in too deep
a trough.
It is the last time we shall be so high above sea-level.
Now we are going definitely downwards. But not at
once. First, we must cross a bowl-shaped hollow, with a
pool called Tsokam and a small glacier brook. Here, at
Pashagang, is the boundary between India and Tibet. I
stop a couple of minutes on the farther margin of the hollow
to bid farewell to Tibet. My sight did not range far into
the realm of the Trans- Himalaya, but a motley procession
passed before my eyes of wonderful memories and strange
adventures among the mountains that shut in the prospect.
Here ended not a chapter, nay, a whole book was closed
at the Shipki-la.
On Indian ground we speed down quite passable slopes,
but soon the gradient becomes steeper, and we return
ever more rapidly to the denser layers of air above which
we have been raised for a few hours in crossing the pass.
Stones and rubbish rattle round our feet, a flock of sheep
slips past us in a hollow, a crystal clear rivulet shoots down
a granite ledge in the entrance of the valley Kamlung,
and finally we slide down a steep gully between bushes and
boulders to a point where a view opens on the village of
< o
FAREWELL TO TIBET 365
Namgya-rijing, its waving fields, its leafy groves, and its
jungles of luxuriant vegetation.
A field just mown offered a suitable site for camp
484, The height was less, but we were still far above
the Sutlej. Down below are seen more villages on their
flat platforms. On the right side wild precipitous rocks
rise to dizzy heights above the river. This view is unspeak-
ably fine and fascinating. Violent gusts of wind sweep the
steep flanks and whistle through the hedge of wild roses
which barricades our tents.
The villagers are Lamaists, speak Tibetan, and wear
round their necks cords with sacred talismans. The loose
bulging skin coats are seen no more, the fashions being
modified from the Indian side, and the men wear thin close-
fitting coats. Our host had a short cut grey beard and a
little cap on the crown of his head. He was named Hira,
and was the Numberdar, or headman, of Namgya-rijing.
He had seen many Sahibs, and when he came to us to give
me an armful of sugar beet, he asked if he could oblige me
in any way. Yes, he could request his colleague in Poo
by letter to have everything ready for our passage of the
Sutlej on the following day. He told us that lower down
in the village of Tovaling ten persons had lately died of
smallpox. An Indian doctor had come up and vaccinated
all the inhabitants. When the yak drivers from Shipki
heard this they begged me to let them go back at once.
They were well paid, and they made their way up to the
pass again. With them the last band was severed which
had connected me with Tibet.
I write August 28 in my diary. The road runs down
shelving declivities full of rubbish, and is lined on both
sides with thorny thickets. Near it lies Namgya proper,
and is succeeded still lower down by the village of Kapp
on a hilly terrace. Here the Sutlej emerges from its
corridor, the descent becomes more gradual, and beyond a
chhorten portal we march along the bank some 150 feet
above the water. But still we go up and down according
to the form of the steep slopes. Here it is not pleasant to
ride on a horse which comes from the more level parts of the
Trans- Himalaya. Often the road runs like a narrow stripe
366 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
over an extremely steep declivity, falling immediately
down to the heavily thundering water. The cliffs on the
right bank seem perpendicular, and dirty grey waves wash
their feet. Granite alternates with dark mica-schist. The
bottom of the grand valley, which we saw so far below us
from the Shipki pass, is a fine sight. Now we are, as it
were, in a mouse-trap, and feel uncomfortable at being
below colossal cliffs and peaks. A landslip, and all thought
of escape would be absurd.
Ah ! I cannot suppress an exclamation of astonishment
as I look into the Tidang valley, where a mountain stream
forms a white foaming fall with a tremendous roar, and
carries perhaps 530 cubic feet of water. It is pleasant to
linger a few minutes at the fine bridge below the fall. A
little farther down the Sutlej makes a bend to the right,
and in a valley to the left lies the village of Tovaling which
has been attacked by smallpox.
Here the messenger Ngurup Dorche, who had to carry
the message to Poo, dashed past us. It was when we
had only a short length of road to traverse to the passage
of the Sutlej. The message stick was handed to him, and
he vanished swiftly along the road with it.
We follow in his track. A landslip which has carried
away the road detains us a good hour. We have to dig a
new path with our own spades in the steep slope, after
which the men lead the animals carefully past the place
lest they should fall into the river, and then carry over the
baggage. Again the road runs upwards and skirts the
outer edge of a cliff which falls vertically, or even over-
hangs. Grass and shrubs have taken root at the very
margin. Whoever stumbles here falls head first into the
river. The right bank is similarly formed, and the river
passes through a gigantic trench deeper than it is broad,
and both in front and behind its cross section is that of a
dark rocky portal.
Down here it is warm. The confined air lies dense
and heavy over the river. We halt and drink from springs
and rivulets which bubble up from the bosom of the earth.
Here no breeze can reach us.
At last a precipitous cliff forces us to descend to the
136. Goat Caravan at the Top or the Siiipki-la.
137. Road in the Sutlej Valley.
FAREWELL TO TIBET 367
edge of the water, where we see the billows of the river
rolling swiftly beside us. Then we go up a slight rise
again to the platform of a projecting rock that hangs fear-
fully over the deep trough of the river, and where not the
ghost of a bridge is to be seen. But Poo lies on the other
side, and we must get over.
CHAPTER XXXI
BETWEEN SKY AND WATER
We had now arrived at the head of the bridge which is
described in Captain Rawling's narrative The Grand
Plateau (p. 303). Accompanied by Major Ryder and
the other members of the expedition to Gartok, he crossed
the Sutlej here just at the end of the year 1904. He
says :
Ten miles below Khub (Kapp) a great cantilever bridge, regarded
as an engineering triumph, spanned the Sutlej, carrying the road
from the left to the right bank. It had only been completed and
opened for traffic in the autumn, and was looked upon by the natives
with awe and admiration. But for us it was to be of no use. The
timber, obtained from the neighbourhood, proved to be exceptionally
brittle, for, three weeks before our arrival, the lower beams gave
way close to the piers, and the whole structure was precipitated
with a crash into the torrent below.
For the Englishmen a temporary bridge was built
between the ice-lined banks. But for us there was no
other resource but to trust ourselves and our belongings
to a cable of wire strands stretched between the stone
piers.
We collected our animals on the stone ledge above the
left bridge-head, and looked around in vain for the help
without which the caravan could not make use of the
cable. Not a living creature could be seen, not even a
wretched hut was erected as a watch-house beside this
dangerous passage. Imagine a pitch-dark night, dense
fog, and a traveller who, trusting in the existence of a
bridge, climbs to the bridge-head, and thence, stepping
368
c^/y
^"f-^i ^i }
'i^
'':'}^!> /// ^>^^
V
138. Bridge over the Suti.ej near Shipki.
lHn>
^-'^
/ - /
-?"%>
%.
w&
^m
' /
K> '""
■■\ /
h
/ /
/ :'
\
139. Cable over the Sutlej near Poo.
Sketches by the Author.
CHAP. XXXI BETWEEN SKY AND WATER 369
into empty space, falls into the Sutlej. Poo stands high
up, and is hidden by the mountain flanks. Neither by
shouts nor signs can we attract the attention of the
inhabitants, and a gun-shot would hardly be heard over
there.
I step out on to the balks of the bridge-head. They
project like a spring-board into empty space. Eighty feet
below me seethes the compressed river. It seems as
though our progress were stopped here and Simla hope-
lessly far away. I learned afterwards that the passage
was purposely closed on account of the smallpox, and no
travellers were allowed to come from the other side.
It was therefore no wonder that the messenger had
shown such carelessness in delivering his message.
Ngurup Dorche was sitting brooding at the bridge-head
when we came to the unlucky spot. A man must be an
acrobat to wind himself over on the cable without assist-
ance. There are many such acrobats among the natives.
They simply sling their cammerbands over the cable and
hitch themselves along backwards. Ngurup adopted
another method. He took the wooden frame of a mule's
pack-saddle, placed it astride on the cable, wound a rope
a couple of times round the wood, and put his legs into
the loops thus made. When he was satisfied that all was
secure, he grasped the cable with both hands and drew
himself along backwards. I must admit that it was an
awful sight when he had passed the outer edge of the
spring-board and was dangling above the chasm. As long
as the cable dipped down to the lowest point of its curve
it was easy to move along, but hard on the ascending
section. I breathed more freely when I saw him hanging
over the right pier of the bridge. There he sprang out
of the loops and vanished like an ibex over the hill on the
way to Poo.
While we waited a fire was lighted, and Gulam put on
water for tea. I examined the nasty place more closely.
Mica-schist crops out on both banks, and the tall piers
between which the bridge once spanned the river rest on
a firm foundation of rock. The right bridge-head consists
of an upright buttress in which balks of timber are built in
2 B
370 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
horizontally, and the cable is carried at a height of six feet
above the level stone platform to a perpendicular post,
and thence to its anchorage in the ground beyond. On
our side the wooden beams of the bridge are still in the
stone dam and carry a platform with a parapet. The cable
passes above the boarded footway, here also at a height of
six feet, to the top of a firm post, beyond which it is
wound round a capstan, and therefore it can be tightened
when it has stretched too much. Usually travellers and
goods are transported over the river by means of a pulley,
which slides along the cable and is fixed in a block which
keeps it in place. Men and animals are secured to a hook
underneath the block and are drawn over easily and quickly.
But now the pulley was broken, and we had to resort to
some other contrivance.
I lay myself down on the bridge platform and carefully
hitch myself forward to the edge. Just below me tumbles
the mighty river, one of the giants of the Himalayas. Im-
mediately below the stone pier two colossal boulders have
fallen into the bed, and between them and the right rocky
wall the river is compressed into a space of perhaps twenty-
five feet. The whole Sutlej seems here changed into a
squirting jet which bores through the mountains with
marvellous energy. The white foaming volumes seem
to dive under the boulders and disappear, only to shoot
up again in boiling bells and vaulted hillocks of water.
The whole is like a gigantic boiling cauldron. The noise
is like growling thunder : it reverberates among the cliffs,
it is deafening to the ear, and one feels dizzy and under the
influence of some magic power that playfully attracts one
down to the flakes of foam under which the Sutlej dances
along its Berserker course raging furiously and white with
wrath. I can hardly help feeling frightened. What if the
beams now gave way while I am lying here gazing into
the depths ? What if the cable parted with a loud report
as I hang over the river ? Well, all would soon be over.
B(^fore I could really feel my heart coming up into my
throat with horror I should come out of the whirlpool
between the blocks as a chopped-up, well-soaked beef-
steak.
140. The Shipki-la.
141. Wire-Rope Briix;e near Poo.
BETWEEN SKY AND WATER 371
But the cable will hold, I am told, though it is as thin
as a cord. It is said to be 115 feet long.
It must be a good way to Poo, for Ngurup does not
come back. Patience ! Out with the sketch-book ; I shall
never forget this place. The stone platform of the dam
on the right bank is only a stone's throw off, but the way
to it lies through the valley of the shadow of death. All
Tibet lies behind us, and yet we have never stood in front
of such an awful fissure.
At last our waiting comes to an end. Yonder a party
of men are hurrying down the slope. They are natives of
Poo, but there are also two Europeans with walking-sticks
and sun-helmets. They mount the dam quickly, and greet
us politely. I have forgotten how to take off my hat,
though fortunately I do not put out my tongue, but flourish
my sketch-book frantically. We can see how eager they
are to get me across as soon as possible. Ngurup has
given them my letter. They know, then, who it is that
now wishes to return to civilization after a sojourn of two
years in Tibet — contrary to the wishes of four govern-
ments, of England and India, Tibet and China, not
to mention the treaty concluded in 1907 between
Great Britain and Russia, one of the objects of which
was to prevent anything in the way of exploration for
three years. They know that during that time I was
my own master, and are curious to know how I have
got on.
A native named Deva Ram, village magistrate of Poo,
comes dangling under the mule saddle over to our side.
We can see that he is accustomed to this little game, and
would do for an aviator. After he has landed safely and
saluted us politely, he ties some sacks and a tent under the
saddle, to which a strong thin cord is attached and held by
the men on the other side. Deva gives the signal, and
soon the whole load is in their hands..
Now the Europeans begin to gesticulate, make signs,
and point towards Poo. I do not understand them. One
of them writes a few lines on a piece of paper which comes
over with the saddle. The message is : " Please wait a
little longer ; we have sent to the village for a pulley-
372 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
block." All right. The saddle, then, is not safe, and I am
glad to wait.
The block came, and was drawn over to us. Kunchuk
tried his luck. It was a joke to see the faces of Suen and
Lobsang when their comrade was suspended over the
chasm. They were almost sick with horror, and had
to turn away. Suen rolled himself up like a hedgehog
behind the capstan, and wept bitterly.
" What is the matter with you ? " I asked.
" It is terrible that we must all die here after we have
come so far and have only a little farther to go."
"Oh, do not be stupid, Suen; there is really no
danger."
At the bottom of my heart I envy Kunchuk, who has
already made the deadly passage. But in the meantime I
have to see that my valuable notes are securely fastened
and go over safely. And then I want to know what is to
be done with the animals. One of the sensible mules is
led up, and stands just under the block. Four strong
bands of rope are put round him, one under the root of
the tail, one supporting the neck, the third slung round
the body in front of the hind-legs, and the fourth behind
the fore-legs. The eyes of the victim are covered. The
mule stands patiently quiet, but the trembling of his legs
shows that he suspects some dirty trick. Ready ! The
men on the other pier begin at a given signal to pull with
all their might. The block slides slowly along the cable.
The mule is forced to move, and he walks with unsteady
steps towards the river, after a vain attempt to resist with
outstretched hoofs. He feels his feet leave the ground,
and stretches his legs out, but cannot touch anything.
Next moment he is sailing through the air above the
tossing river. He has submitted to his fate, and his legs
hang limp. What else could the poor creature do ? But
the agony is short ; his forefeet strike the edge of the
stone pier, he feels firm ground under his feet, and stands
as patiently as before until he is freed from all his fetters
and is sent off to graze on a bank.
Now it is my turn. " The earth vanishes ; the Gyallar
horn sounds the summons to the feast of the gods." j
XXXI BETWEEN SKY AND WATER 2,7Z
Deva Ram must think I am very heavy for he ties me
up as fast as a dangerous criminal. I slip my legs into the
loops of rope, and grasp the front cheek of the block firmly.
"Off!" I call out.
" No, Sahib, not yet," answers Deva Ram.
" What more is wanting ? "
" The tackle will hold all right, there is no fear of it ;
but any one who is not accustomed to see the river below
him may become giddy, lose his senses, relax his hands,
throw himself backwards, slip out of the loops, and fall
head first into the Langchen-kamba."
"I shall not be giddy."
" Still, for safety's sake, we will take a turn of rope, or
better two, round your body and the other ropes. There,
now all is right. Now you may loose your hands, Sahib,
without falling."
"Off," I cry more loudly than before.
Deva Ram gives the signal, the block begins to glide,
and I am suspended beyond the brink, and see the greyish
billows of the river rolling beneath me. It seems an age.
Why am I not already across.-* It is only 115 feet.
Above on the heights is my old Tibet ; down in the plains
is India. My caravan is torn asunder. I myself am
dangling between heaven and the murderous Sutlej. I
have explored this river and discovered its ultimate source.
Surely the discovery demands a victim ! I never enter-
tained such great respect for this grand majestic river as
at this moment, and suddenly I realized the meaning of
the chhorten pyramids and cairns of the Tibetans on banks
and bridges, those cries for help against the uncontrollable
powers of nature, and those prayers in stone to inexorable
gods. My eyes fall on the gigantic white cauldron boiling
in the abyss below. How magnificent, how ravishingly
beautiful ! Language has no words to describe it ; no
artist can depict this scene, the dizzy bird's-eye view can-
not be reproduced on canvas. Only a model could give
some notion of it. Only the droning of the thundering
water is heard, repeated every moment. It fills the narrow
chasm, and I hover among a chaos of sound waves crossing
one another from all sides.
374 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
I swing about at every jerk caused by the pull on the
rope. Halloh ! Only two yards to the edge of the stone
pier. Beautiful land ! As the cable has held so long
surely it will not now split with an ominous crack. Pull
away ! Only a yard more. With a comfortable feeling of
security I glide over the pier, and in a moment am freed
from all bands and fetters.
The two Europeans give me a hearty welcome in
German, and congratulate me on having performed the
short aerial journey without mishap. They are Moravian
missionaries, and are named Marx and Schnabel. In a
minute we are as well acquainted as friends of youth. We
stay a short time on the platform to see Lobsang swung
over with blindfolded eyes, for he could not trust his head,
and he was very agitated when he landed. I also receive
my white steed, and stroke his eyes and nose to quieten
him. The others might look after themselves, and they
were all over before eight o'clock, so that the whole cross-
ing lasted quite five hours. The missionaries told me that
an Englishman had turned back on seeing the cable.
Now we go up the steep ascent to Poo. Just as
twilight comes we enter the narrow, lifeless streets of the
village. Only a group or two of inquisitive women and
some lonely strollers are out when we pass over the little
market - place, where the villagers assemble on winter
evenings to amuse themselves with dance, song, and string
music. At last we come to the missionaries' compound,
and find that it forms a pretty little neatly-kept village.
A brand-new house in a garden is my abode during the
days of rest.
I had not seen an European since August 14, 1906,
and now I wrote August 28, 1908. For two long years I
had associated with Asiatics, and I was glad to see men
and women of German race again ; and worthier specimens
of the white race than these Christian apostles and their
wives I could not have met with. They shamed me with
their hospitality and spoiled me like a child. They served
me with the best the house afforded, clothed me anew, gave
me books and newspapers to read, and were never impatient
at my cross-fire of questions : Was the world at peace or did
I
143- " I DANGLE BETWEEN HeAVEN AND THE MURDEROUS SUTLEJ.
Photographed by Mr. Marx of Poo.
BETWEEN SKY AND WATER 375
the torch of war blaze in any country ; how is it with the
unrest in India; have you heard any news from Sweden ?
It is certainly pleasant to be spared for two years news-
papers, telephone calls, stupid letters, idiotic receptions,
and the inane chatter of the world. In so-called civiliza-
tion we lead an artificial life, lose our individuality, and are
picked to pieces by the gossip and base scandal in which
society revels. It is pleasant to seek great solitudes where
no commotion penetrates. But still, when the time of
isolation is over, it is also delightful to find oneself in the
swim again. One soon becomes accustomed to it, though
one looks back not without sadness to the grand time when
only a thin tent cloth separated one from the nights of the
wilderness and the eternal stars.
I slept in a proper bed, and had a view of the garden
where my men pitched their tents, and our tethered horses
and mules could console themselves with better grass than
they had ever seen before. Takkar and Little Puppy did
not feel at home in these strange surroundings, and their
Tibetan coats were not suited to this warm, oppressive
air. They lay with their mouths open, gasped for breath,
and snapped at the troublesome flies which left them no
peace.
The village is divided into two sections. The poor
live above, the well-to-do and rich below, the mission
station. There are here 600 to 700 inhabitants, all
Lamaists, who speak a dialect of Tibetan more akin to
the language of Darjiling than to the patois of neigh-
bouring districts. The caste system has spread hither
from India. The blood also is not free from a Hindu
admixture, and on the way to Simla it may be observed
that Tibetan blood thins out, while Hindu blood becomes
more conspicuous.
Wheat is cultivated here, barley and millet, besides
buckwheat, which yields two crops a year. Only the
missionaries try rye, and it thrives well. Poo lies too high
for grape culture, but there are juicy bunches down by the
river. Potatoes are planted in some fields, while beet,
turnips, and radishes are grown generally. The mountain
breezes rustle through the crowns of the walnut trees, and
376 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
apricots and apple trees adorn the outskirts of the village.
Of course poplars and willows are not absent, and the
cedar or shukpa is the object of religious reverence.
Spruce and birch occur above the village, but the deodar
or Himalayan cedar thrives only on the west side of the
Sutlej. Among bushes the wild rose and the whitethorn
are the commonest.
Two monasteries belong to Poo. The upper is named
Chila-gompa, the lower Poo-gompa. Thirty lamas of the
red sect live there ; these monks are allowed to marry.
Most of the nuns live in the village, and occupy themselves
in secular affairs.
Poo lies, indeed, high above the Sutlej, but yet in a
hollow depression between lofty snowy mountains. In
the height of summer a close stagnant heat, especially
deleterious to European children, prevails in this hollow.
All the white children that have died in Poo have been
carried off in July or August. If a small child lives
through August its parents may hope to keep it for another
year. In September the nights become pleasant and
people revive. Frost comes with the new year, and at the
end of January the river freezes for five weeks. Only
its quieter reaches have a proper covering of ice. One
such place is above the cable ; here the river may be
crossed on planks which are laid on two boulders which
stand at the edge of the ice fringe.
August 30 was a Sunday, and a service was held in
the small chapel of the mission. The congregation con-
sisted of perhaps fifty people, including a few children.
The men sat on the right, the women on the left of the
pulpit. My men also attended and listened with great
astonishment to the singing and the words of the preacher.
The tones of the organ sounded gentle and peaceful, and
in the tongue of their country the Christians sang a psalm
to the tune of "Glory to God in the Highest." It was
wonderfully beautiful. I wept from emotion in the little
lonely church among the majestic mountain masses of the
Himalayas. The two years flew like a dream before my
mind. Through the window is seen the bright sunny
landscape, the threshold of my beloved Tibet, the royal
144- Aerial Passage of the Suti.ej.
rhotograjahed by Mr. Marx of Poo.
XXXI BETWEEN SKY AND WATER zil
demesne of unfettered freedom, and now I am about to
bid it a long farewell.
Festoons of ripening apples hung down among the
leaves, and cackling hens stalked leisurely about the yard.
Quiet and devout the congregation listened to the words
of the preacher which sounded through the small building
with gentle conviction.
Amen ! Our Father. . . . Another hymn was sung, and
with solemn faces the Christians dispersed to their homes.
The missionaries take me round the premises of the
station. They tell me that the Himalayas are in the
Moravian mission district No. 13, and that work was
commenced in 1853. The Poo station was founded in
1865, and the first couple of missionaries were Mr. and
Mrs. Pagell, who both died at their post in 1883, and were
buried in the little graveyard above the chapel. A
stranger stands thoughtfully and bareheaded before such
a grave. They went into exile of their own free will, and
sacrificed their lives for their faith. At home only a few
friends inquired about them, and here perhaps they met
with little gratitude and encouragement, but these
preachers of the gospel fought for the highest of all
earthly aims.
How sad and affecting to see these children's graves
with their fresh or already faded wreaths ! There one
can read the names of many children who only came into
the world to be baptized and to die, and of many who
during their brief existence saw no other white faces than
those of their parents, and no other scene than the
Himalayas round Poo. Unknown to the world, pure and
innocent, the little people slumber under the perishable
inscriptions of their tombstones. Mr. and Mrs. Schnabel
had three children in this churchyard, and one had died in
the Red Sea on the voyage home. Mr. and Mrs. Marx
had consigned their only child to the soil of the Himalayas
fourteen days before, and fresh wreaths adorned the little
mound. Some gravestones had inscriptions in Tibetan
characters, not the everlasting, inane " Om mani padme
hum," but Christian words, for beneath them rested
villagers of Poo who had received baptism.
.yS TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxxi
Solemn and profound is the atmosphere which reigns
round these abodes of peace and forgetfulness. _ The eyes
roam over wild grand valleys, and on all sides sharp
pinnacles of rock form a guard of honour. The troop of
monsoon clouds floats under the vault of heaven towards
Tibet, and the stars of the winter night sparkle gently
over the graves of Poo.
CHAPTER XXXII
A LEARNED LAMA FROM HUNGARY
When I set out from Poo on August 31,1 had 200 miles
to travel to Simla. A few hearty words of thanks to the
missionaries' wives, a vigorous shake of the hand with
the missionaries who escorted us to a bend in the road,
and then we go off along the winding path through the
state of Beshahr.
Here I travelled over a country which had been well
known for a hundred years, and which had been thoroughly
mapped by the topographical survey. I could therefore
pack up my map-board and ride on free and unhampered
without having to think of minutes and bearings. For
two years I durst not omit to notice the smallest crook in
the road, but now I had a holiday after a long period of
work. Now I looked as long as I pleased at this wonder-
ful country, noticed the villages and men who now become
ever more common appearances, and gazed at the lofty
mountains, the foaming river, and above all the vegetation
which became more and more luxuriant, and passed gradu-
ally from high alpine forms to sub-tropical, and, finally, at
the foot of the Himalayas, into tropical. As before, I
could remark the increase of heat with the decrease of
height, and the life and activity of man which beat with
a stronger pulse every day we drew nearer to our
destination.
After Poo our animals have no work to do. We em-
ploy coolies, in the English fashion, to carry our baggage.
Fifteen coolies, men and women, carry our loads on their
strong shoulders, while our animals tramp unladen, and
379
38o TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
even without burdens have to exert themselves enough to
get over some awkward places. Beyond a sharp ridge of
rock we have the Sutlej far below us on our left. Then
follows a series of small projections and spurs, where the
road is so dangerous that we must often help ourselves
with our hands, if we would not lose our balance and fall
into the water that rolls hundreds of feet below us. The
road clings like a cornice to the cliff which often overhangs.
Imagine this road where nature has done everything and
man has not assisted with a single blasting charge !
Branches, boughs, and slabs have, indeed, been thrust into
all the crevices to provide steps and some little protection
on the outer side, and at two places there is some attempt
at a balustrade, but otherwise this road, with its abrupt
sections and dangerous slides, has been formed by
weathering.
Accustomed to the fresh air of elevated Tibet we are
always perspiring ; ']'J.']° in the shade is too much for us,
and yet this is only the beginning of the heat which awaits
us, and from which I shall not escape until I come to
Shanghai and Japan. My men will have done with it
when they get home to Ladak.
The rocks on the left side are just as abrupt, and there
also a path has been levelled which connects Tovaling
with Nesang and Morang. In the distance it looks like
a tine thread on the cliff, a suitable contrivance for rope-
dancers and suicides.
Beyond a difficult passage through strongly folded
dark mica- schist, we march up a rise with a cairn,
and then go down headlong by many hundred zigzags
to the bottom of the side valley Sha-lungpo. There
flows a river with water of the purest bluish-green,
and the foam flakes of its falls and rapids float like
white soap-suds on its surface. A small level spot on
the left bank affords room for our two tents and the
camp-fires.
Ngurup Dorche had left us and gone off to his home
in a village close to Poo. The beggar from Chiu-gompa
was still with us, and like the others had nothing to do.
Beside me walked a young guide who was smart and
XXXII A LEARNED LAMA 381
active as a cat. We had passed our coolies half-way along
the road and had to wait a long time down by the river
bank before the undulating file appeared as small dots
on the slopes. We saw sometimes their fronts, some-
times their backs or sides, according to their position
on the zigzags ; gradually they grew larger, and at last
laid down their loads among the tents. There were
some young girls among them and two of these were
really handsome. I felt ashamed that these princesses
of the wild mountains had to burden their shoulders with
my baggage, while I was so comfortable myself. But
my chivalry was out of place in the Himalayas, and
the young ladies were quite pleased to work for their
four annas a stage. I gladly doubled their pay, not only
because it is absurdly small for such toil, but also
because the black-eyed portresses were so indescribably
charming.
On this road every fresh camping-ground surpasses the
last in wild romantic beauty. In the Sha valley one seems
to be shut up in a maze, and wonders how in the world one
is to get out. On all sides nothing can be seen but narrow
dells among abrupt wildly -fissured slopes. The Sha-
lungpo leads like a corridor down to the colonnades of the
Sutlej valley. It is no use to try and make oneself heard
here. The Sha river, with its 700 or 800 cubic feet of
water per second, forces its furious way through all
obstacles to reach the Sutlej, and tumbling volumes of
water drum against blocks and ledges a loud sonorous
march of victory over the mica-schist. The heat confined
in the valley lies heavy and oppressive over the water.
But I have only to stretch my hand out of the tent door
to fill a cup with wonderfully refreshing water at a tempera-
ture of only 50^ During the night the temperature did
not fall below 62.1°.
The shades of evening fall sooner in the narrow valley,
and it is dark earlier than on the open flats above. The
fires flame up high and cast a yellowish red light on the
faces of the cliffs. The men move about like ghosts ;
they can only be seen, for their steps cannot be heard nor
their voices, only the overpowering roar of the river. The
o
82 TRANS-HIMALAYA
tent stands open to let in the light draught produced by
the stream.
The sun rises on another brilliant day. We have now
to cross the river. After rain this river rises tremendously
and floods the small spot where our camp is pitched. It
is much too broad to be bridged over. It was now
impossible to wade through with laden animals, for probably
a horseman would have been swept down to the Sutlej.
Therefore, a cable, as at Poo, has been stretched across the
bed which in the middle of the valley is only 1 1^ feet above
the water. Now only a third of the cable need be used,
for the river runs in a single channel along the right bank,
where the cable is anchored in a very steep slope above a
level stone wall which serves as a landing-place. The
loads are carried to the bank, and at the top of a stone
heap lying in the bed are fastened to the block of the
running pulley. Then the whole pack is drawn over to
the stone dam on the right bank, where fresh coolies are
waiting to take charge of them.
The men are conveyed across in the same way. The
horses have to look after themselves, and can scarcely keep
their feet on the bottom of the bed, and resist the rush of
the water. Two small mules are pulled across with a
rope. Takkar swims over, but Little Puppy is sent by
cable.
The Sha river is said to be the boundary of the
Kanam district. The ascent from the right bank is very
perceptible, and the road makes sharp short windings
through abrupt fissures, where high shafts of masonry
have been built up to support the path, past shady
nooks and under dark - green canopies of pine-trees,
higher and higher, until at length we reach a saddle
called Tungnang-la.
Just below us we see the Sutlej and the place where
the metallic green water of the Sha river is swallowed
up by the dirty muddy flood of the main river and dis-
appears instantly. A small commencement of a pebbly
delta has been mercilessly cut off as with a knife. The
Sutlej suffers no useless hindrances on its way. Just
opposite on the left bank debouches the Tomba-chu
xxxn A LEARNED LAMA s^Z
valley with its stream, and therefore the place is called
Sumna, or the meeting of three valleys.
The Tungnang-la does not suffice us ; we mount still
higher and pass a cairn which stands like a landmark high
above the wildly tossing river. But now the corridor is
so steep and deep that we only now and then catch sight
of a small stretch of the Sutlej. It would be dangerous to
ride here, so I go on foot. Tubges, Kunchuk, and Suen
drive our unladen animals past us : the effect of the re-
freshing bath has not lasted long ; they are sweating and
their heads droop ; but they keep up well.
Takkar is in a worse case ; he must suffer terribly, for
he takes short quick breaths and lets his dripping tongue
hang out of his mouth. Whenever he sees a cleft with
cool shadow he stops to rest there. Then he runs past
us to crawl into some other hole. He drinks from every
rivulet, laying himself down on his stomach in the water.
He is afraid of the heat, smells danger, and broods over
secret plans. What is he thinking of.'* He perhaps
recalls to mind his youth on the bare breezy heights of
the province of Bongba, and thinks of the March day
when he was forced to leave his master and his home for
ever. He had offered desperate resistance and none of
us durst go near him. Afterwards he had quietly sub-
mitted to fate and had been as true to us as gold. How
often had he saved me from spies, keeping jealous guard
before my tent.-* Now he is thinking it all over and
believes that he has been betrayed by us. Totling was
all very well, and the Shipki-la was a glorious place which
reminded him of Bongba. There he saw yaks for the
last time. But the heat of Poo was detestable, and now
we were still following the great river down towards the
sea. Takkar told himself that it must become hotter the
farther we descended, and the scenes of Bongba returned
more clearly and sharply to his memory. Thus he thought
as he ran from one shady place to another. He felt that
all ties were loosened and that really he was a stranger
among us. He felt like a hen when she sees the duckling
she has hatched swimming in the water and cannot follow
it. Now he rushes past us to look for another shady spot.
384 TRANS-HIMALAYA
We march on and neither see nor hear anything of
him. Perhaps he will wait and follow our track in the
evening. No, there he comes again. I call to him,
but he does not obey as usual, he does not see or hear,
he throws himself helplessly under an arching rock.
He is in despair, and knows that we are leaving him for
good.
Parango is the name of a place where the path runs
across a huge detritus fan. The guide informs us that
it is dangerous in winter when avalanches roll down and
landslips fall. After heavy rains also it is wise to make
all speed in passing Parango.
Tsarak-tatang is a side valley with a murmuring
brook ; high up on a hill at its flank stands a hut among
tilled fields. Here and there conifers make a rather thin
wood, and a rest is agreeable in a ravine near Kamurti.
Immediately opposite we have a bird's-eye view of the
large Nesang river, throwing up white froth against the
boulders that fill its rapids, but flowing calmly with a dark-
green colour at its mouth.
From a commanding promontory where the cairn
Kanam-laptse stands we enjoy for a moment a magnificent
prospect. Deep down in a side valley lies the village of
Kanam, and farther off Pill and other villages. But the
finest sight is the background formed by the nearest snow-
clad summits of a huge Himalayan massive which is
known by the famous name of Kailas. In the peculiar
illumination, and in an atmosphere apparently saturated
with warm vapour, its firn-covered peaks make a deep
and imposing effect. Steely-blue clouds and round white
fleeces form white beds round the higher parts of the
mountains, and the blinding white summits rise above ,
this sea of aerial surge.
We descend to the village of Kanam. Without a
guide we should surely go astray in this confusion of
narrow lanes, passages, and small squares between houses,
walls, terraces, fields, and gardens, among which canals
here and there cool the air with tiny waterfalls, or which
are interrupted by actual jungles of extremely luxuriant
vegetation. The houses remind me of Kashmir; fre-
xxxii A LEARNED LAMA 385
quently the beams project on all sides beyond the walls
to form verandahs and a shelter from the rain.
Our tents were erected in an open yard in front of
the lower sanctuary which is called the Kanjur-lhakang
because the holy scriptures are kept there. Naturally the
first thing we do is to inspect the theological library.
The hall is plain and not to be compared with those we
have lately seen in Tibet. In the centre of the altar
chancel towers a large chhorten called Kudung.
" Whose ashes does this chhorten contain .-* " I ask a
monk.
"The ashes of a Grand Lama, Lotsava Rinpoche, who
lived two or three centuries ago," he answers.
Locked cupboards stand on both sides and are opened
at my request. They contain a number of small clay
images. The Kanjur and Tanjur scriptures are kept in
two clumsy heavy bookcases. Some volumes of the
former are absent, for the monks are reading them in
their cells.
The Kache-lhakangy standing higher up the village, is
more important. The name signifies the " Mohammedan
hall of the gods."
"Why is it so called.^" I ask one of our priestly
ciceroni.
" Because a converted Mohammedan served the
temple." But one of his colleagues said, " No, simply
because the architect was a Mohammedan."
The latter explanation was the more probable, for the
whole architecture of the cloister court was exactly like
the caravanserais in Yarkand. As there, the two-storeyed
galleries were turned to the court, in the middle of which
a thick-stemmed apple tree lifted up its crown. Such
courts are, indeed, not uncommon in Tibet, but here the
Mohammedan style is more pronounced than usual.
Stone steps lead up to the temple hall, where we meet
again our old friends Sakya-toba, Chenresi, and Tsong
Kapa. Some new tankas hang down from the roof and
through its large impluvium daylight falls, gilding the
pillars of the shrine.
" Where is the monk's cell which the European lama
2 c
3
86 TRANS-HIMALAYA
inhabited when he lived here ? " I asked Gachen Lobsang
Tarva, a monk about fifty-five years old, who was very
amiable and friendly.
" Come with me, sir," he said, and led me on to the
fiat roof. From here we mounted an outside staircase
ending in a verandah before a small room.
" Who lives here ? " I asked.
" Lotsa Rinpoche, a Kanpo Lama, who is now on a
visit to the Tashi Lama. But this is also the room in
which a lama from Europe once lived."
A lama from Europe ! It sounds very improbable and
yet it is quite true. A wonderfully entrancing human
story is indissolubly connected with the monastery of
Kanam. A true story, in which the wildest adventures
of Hajji Baba are combined with superhuman patience
and the finest example of the suppression of self in the
interests of science. We stand on the threshold of the
cell in which the Hungarian philologist, Alexander Csoma
of Koros in Transylvania, spent three years of his life.
His greatness and his reputation survive in the works
he published. But his personality and his life are little
known, and hence the mystical charm surrounding his
name. A few letters from him and about him afford an
insight into his thoughts and schemes. In the narrative
of one or another Himalayan journey his image flashes
only rapidly before our eyes. It would take too long to
dwell on all these narratives of travel. We will give here
only a specimen. Captain C. Johnson on his journey from
April to October 1827, visited the village of Kanam, and
says in \}i\(t Jourtialof the Royal Geographical Society, 1834,
p. 56:
There is in this city a Lama temple, and an excellent library.
. . . Here they met with Tchoma de Coxas, an Hungarian traveller,
who was there for the purpose of ascertaining the origin of the
Huns. . . . He had been in Luddak, and had acquired a knowledge
of the language, but having become an object of suspicion, he had
come south, and buried himself in the library at Kanum. . . . He
was not very communicative, and lived the life of a hermit, upon
an allowance granted him by the Company.
In the book already quoted. Die lainaische Hierarchic
und Kirche (vol. ii. p 286), Koeppen writes of Csoma
o
XXXII A LEARNED LAMA 387
. . . who had made it the task of his life to track down the Uigur,
the supposed ancestors or at least fellow-tribesmen of his people,
the Hungarians, and he hoped, after searching fruitlessly for several
years in Persia, Afghanistan, and Turkestan amidst hardships and
privations, to finally discover them in some corner of the closed
land of snow. But before trying to penetrate into that country he
resolved to learn the Tibetan language, and studied it first in
Ladag, then in Yangla, and lastly from 1827 in the monastery of
Kanam on the Sutlej under the guidance of a literate lama, in spite
of cold and want, with such heroic energy that at last he mastered
it, the first European to do so, and at the same time acquired an
exhaustive knowledge of Tibetan literature.
We can obtain a notion of the importance of Csoma's
work from the following words of the present American
Ambassador in Constantinople, the profound and learned
Asiatic investigator W. W. Rockhill, in The Life of the
Buddha :
[ Any one who has glanced at the analysis of the Tibetan Bkah-
'hgyur by Alexander Csoma de Koros, published in the 20th volume
of the Asiatick Researches, must have been struck with the wonder-
ful patience and perseverance of this extraordinary scholar. Some
idea of the extent of the researches which are embodied in his
analysis of the Dulva, about the tenth part of the whole Bkah-
hgyur, may be had when it is known that it occupies more than
4000 leaves of seven lines to the page, each line averaging twenty-
two syllables.
Let us take a glance at the career of this extraordinary
iman. I follow here the account given by Dr. Th. Duka
in his book Life and Works of Alexander Csoma de Koros.
A Biography co77ipiled chiefly from hitherto tmpublished data
(London, 1885). Korosi Csoma Sandor, or Alexander
Csoma of Koros, was born in the year 1784, and in his
youth devoted himself enthusiastically to the study of
oriental languages, theology, history of the world, and
geography. When he was thirty-six years old he left his
country for ever, and commenced the long journey which
was to make his name known and renowned in the scientific
world. He traversed the Balkan countries, sailed to
Alexandria, and then made his way through Aleppo, Mosul,
Baghdad, Kermanshah, and Hamadan to Teheran. At
that time no Europeans lived in the Persian capital, except
388 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
those attached to the embassies. Here Csoma enjoyed
EngHsh hospitality until in the spring of 1821 he left
Teheran in Persian dress to follow the ancient caravan
road to Meshed, Bukhara, Balk, Kulm, Bamian, and Kabul.
He almost always travelled on foot. From Constantinople
to Bukhara he followed pretty nearly the same route as his
famous countryman. Professor Arminius Vambery, forty-
two years later. It was a heroic deed he accomplished.
At that time it was more difficult than now to traverse
these regions unscathed. Csoma has left no account of his
adventures, but from Vambery's graphic description we
may gain some conception of the troubles and dangers
which Csoma must have encountered. In the year 1890
I travelled along the same road as Csoma, and can very
well imagine the privations he must have endured seventy [_
years earlier.
Csoma passed through Lahore and Kashmir to Leh.
On his journey back from Leh he met Moorcroft in July
1822, who had accomplished his memorable journey to
Manasarowar ten years before. In Moorcroft Csoma
found a sincere friend, stayed with him half a year, and
received from his benefactor money as well as books and
letters of introduction. Thus Csoma, through Moorcroft's
intervention, was enabled to spend sixteen months in the
monastery of Yangla in Sanskar, where with a learned
lama and a servant he occupied a cell thirty square feet in
area, and there plunged into the study of the sacred
writings. He found that the 320 volumes which are the
foundation of all Tibetan learning and religion are a trans-
lation of an Indian Sanskrit original. In grinding poverty
and amid great privations he worked his way into this new
world of knowledge. Winter was a hard time, the little
room could not be warmed, and Csoma had no money for
lights. Wrapped in a sheep-skin he sat all day over the
Tibetan folios while snowstorms howled outside in the
mountains.
In the year 1825 the Indian Government accepted his
offer to continue his investigations at their expense
English rule had begun to extend itself over India, and it
was important to learn something of the languages and
xxxii A LEARNED LAMA 389
religions ^ of neighbouring peoples. The Government
offered him a remuneration of 50 rupees a month. It was
a gigantic work Csoma had undertaken. He found that
the Kanjur consisted of 98 volumes, each two feet long
and eight inches broad, and containing more than 300
leaves. The Tanjur had 224 volumes with 76,409 leaves
in the aggregate, and had been translated and arranged by
3000 persons.
These years Csoma spent partly at Sabathu in Kulu,
partly at Pukdal in Sanskar. On one of his journeys he
came to Kanam, and there heard that the holy scriptures
were kept in the monastery of the village, whither they
had been brought from Tashi-lunpo fifty years before.
Therefore he determined to continue his studies in Kanam
and received the sanction of the Government to a sojourn
of three years.
About this time Dr. Gerard, who did such good service
in connexion with the geography of the Himalayas,
travelled through these regions and came to Kanam. In
an interesting letter, dated at Sabathu on January 21, 1829,
Gerard relates that he had seen the learned Hungarian in
the little romantic village where he was dwelling amongst
his books in the dress of the natives, and living like them
on buttered tea. Under circumstances which would have
driven most men to despair, he had collected 40,000
Tibetan words. His teacher and assistant was a highly
educated and amiable lama named Bande Sangs-Rgyas
PHun-Tsogs. The Hungarian reminded the English
doctor of the philosophers of antiquity, for like them he
was completely absorbed in his researches, and was blind
and deaf to everything that was going on about him. But
he was delighted with the unsuspected treasures he had
brought to light from the gold mines of Tibetan wisdom,
which would one day excite the astonishment of the learned
world. He expressed, however, a fear that the Govern-
ment might not appreciate his work ; but on the day when
he could hand over his grammar and his lexicon he would
be the happiest man on earth, for then he would have
carried out his engagement and could die contented.
He lived in poverty, for the 50 rupees a month were
390 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
his only income. Half he paid to his teacher, his servant
received 4 rupees, and his dwelling cost a rupee a month.
Twenty rupees were, then, left to provide him with food,
clothing, writing materials, and all other necessaries.
Gerard says :
Mr. Csoma's hamlet is at the extreme upper limit of the village
of Kanum, at an absolute elevation of 9500 feet. Around him are
the romantic abodes of monks, whose religious ceremonies, their
pious incantations, etc., have a singular affinity to Romish customs.
Below is the monastery containing the Encyclopaedia. . . . Mr.
Csoma showed me some improvements he had made to his cottage ;
one was a fireplace, which had cost him twelve rupees. . . . Two
rustic benches and a couple of ruder chairs are all the furniture in
his small abode.
In spite of all his poverty he retained an indomitable
pride, and could not be induced to accept the smallest
present from Gerard. Even the English newspapers
Gerard sent him were refused. Rice, sugar, clothes, all
were returned. The only things he kept at Gerard's
earnest entreaty were an English Bible, which he read
through in eight days, a Latin and a Greek dictionary.
Poverty had no power over him. He seemed to be
raised above all worldly things. He had travelled for
years through western and southern Asia on a mere
pittance, and had laid the foundations of a new branch of
science for the pay of a lacquey. He never went out
except to fetch more volumes from the library. In summer
he wore the coarse garments that could be procured in
Kanam, and in winter he wrapped himself in his sheep-skin.
The work itself was his life. He would earnestly and
faithfully fathom the depths of Tibetan knowledge, hand
over the results to the Government in Calcutta, and then
continue his researches in Lhasa and pass at last into
Mongolia. Finally he would search out the original
home of the Magyars in Asia. But man proposes, God
disposes.
News reached Calcutta that Moorcroft had died at
Andkhoi in Bukhara. It was proposed to send Csoma
thither to recover the papers of the deceased explorer,
but the plan was never carried out. The Asiatic Society
147- Ravine in the Suti.ej Valley.
14S. View of the Sutlej Valley near Kanam.
A LEARNED LAMA 391
in Calcutta assigned 50 rupees monthly for Csoma's
maintenance, but he was offended by the wording of the
generous offer and refused it.
At the end of 1830 he left Kanam, where he had
sojourned over three years, and took leave of his teacher,
the good Bande Sangs-Rgyas PHun-Tsogs, and went to
Calcutta, where he was for several years librarian of the
Asiatic Society, and superintended the printing of his large
quartos, the grammar and the dictionary. Here he also
wrote a number of learned essays and translated parts of
the Bible into Tibetan for the missionaries.
He did not alter his Spartan mode of life in the
capital. He took no part in society functions. He was
not seen in the street. Silent as a Brahmin, he arranged
the Tibetan manuscripts in the library and shut himself up
among his own papers in his room, where he lived like a
hermit and a misanthrope. Yet he had some intimates, a
couple of friends who visited him frequently. The great
Himalayan explorers, Moorcroft, Gerard, Wilson, Prinsep,
Hodgson, Campbell, and others, came in contact with
Csoma. The singular taciturn student could be lively and
talkative when any one spoke of Hungary with kindly
interest.
When he was fifty-eight years old Csoma resolved to
travel to Lhasa and Central Asia. In Lhasa he would
find the perfection of Tibetan learning, and in Central
Asia would find the original home of the Magyars. He
would devote ten years more to the East before he
returned home. Probably he started from the Hugli by
boat and then, travelling on foot through the fever districts
south of the Himalayas, arrived on March 24, 1842, at
Darjiling, among the cool mountains which separated him
from his desired bourne.
Here he met Dr. Campbell who afterwards expressed
his admiration of Csoma's learning, and his astonishment
at the curious mixture of pride and humility which formed
the groundwork of his character. He knew a number of
languages, says Campbell, and was conversant with still
more — Hebrew, Arabic, Sanskrit, Pushtu, Greek, Latin,
Slavonic, German, English, Turkish, Persian, French,
392 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
Russian, Tibetan, Hindustani, Mahratta, and Bengali, and
he had a dictionary of every language with him. He had
spent twenty-two years in travel, or a longer time than any
European since Marco Polo. An official in the service of
the Raja of Sikkim was astounded at his Tibetan and
Lamaist knowledge ; a European who knew the languages
and literature more thoroughly than any Kanpo Lama or
Rinpoche !
Dr. Campbell recognized Csoma's worth, liked his
society, and visited him frequently. He found him in a
miserable hole sitting on a mat among four boxes of books.
In this room, which was nothing better than a closet,
Csoma worked, took his simple meals of tea and rice, and
slept in a coarsely woven blue wrapper. And in this
closet Campbell found him on April 6, ill of fever, and
tried in vain to make him swallow a febrifuge. On the
7th Csoma was better, and he spoke cheerfully and with
. lively interest. "What would not Hodgson, Turner, and
some philosophers of Europe give to be in my place when
I come to Lhasa.'*" he several times exclaimed. He told
with pride of his long journeys and his years of solitude on
the frontier of Tibet, and was delighted with the sensation
his literary researches had aroused among the learned men
of Europe.
Campbell listened with almost religious reverence to
his conversation, and thought that Csoma wished that not
a single word should escape the attentiveness of the
Englishman and not a syllable be forgotten. For now he
spoke of the original home of the Hungarian race in Asia,
of the Huns and the Uigurs, and of the key to the dark
riddle which lay hidden in Lhasa and Kham in the
extreme east of Tibet.
On April 9, the indefatigable pilgrim again lay in high
fever. His complexion was yellow, his cheeks had fallen
in, and his thoughts wandered along misty paths vainly
groping after the original home of the Magyars. Now
the doctor succeeded in inducing him to take medicine.
But it was too late. On the evening of the loth Csoma
fell into a comatose slumber, and early the following
morning he had ceased for ever his search for the open
xxxii A LEARNED LAMA 393
tablelands where the forefathers of the Magyar had once
ridden about on wild horses.
On April 12 the dead hero and martyr was borne to
the grave. Campbell read the prayers as the coffin was
lowered ; all the Englishmen present in Darjiling attended
the funeral. The Asiatic Society erected a monument
over the grave, and the inscription on the tablet contains
the following words :
. . . and after years passed under privations, such as have been
seldom endured, and patient labour in the cause of Science, com-
piled a Dictionary and Grammar of the Tibetan language, his best
and real monument.
On his road to Lassa, to resume his labours, he died in this
place, on the nth April 1842.
Requiescat in pace.
Csoma had devoted the years of his manhood to
Tibetan studies and also sacrificed his life for them. His
was a tragic fate, to be snatched away just as he was about
to cross for the first time the frontier of the promised land,
the forbidden land of the sacred books. On my way from
Tibet, where I had spent more than two years, I had now
arrived at Csoma's farthest point from the opposite direction.
I trod with the feelings of a pilgrim the lanes and banks
over which Csoma had wandered in solitude to and fro
between the library and his monk's cell high up in the
village. I cherished a slight hope of finding some memorial
of his sojourn in this place, though seventy-eight years
had passed since his time.
Therefore I turned to Gachen Lobsang Tarva, the
representative of the superior of Kanam. I have already
mentioned that he had led me to the small room in the
upper monastery enclosure.
" Do you know nothing of that Lama-Sahib ? " I asked
him.
" No, nothing at all. But Yangpur, an old man ot
eighty-two, is the oldest inhabitant of Kanam ; he may be
able to tell you something."
" Let him come at once."
A messenger was despatched, and after a time we had
old Yangpur with us.
394 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
" Do you remember the Lama-Sahib who lived here? "
I asked him.
" No, sir ; I was a child when he left Kanam. But I
remember very well that my father used to speak of him,
and said that he lived some years in the monastery dressed
just like our own lamas and regarded by them as a
colleague,"
" Do you remember his name, Yangpur.'* "
" Yes, he was named Ganderbek," the old man
answered without a moment of hesitation. In the evening
I wrote in my diary : " This name Ganderbek can be
nothing else but Iskander Bek, the name by which
Alexander the Great is known in western Asia, especially
as Csoma's Christian name was Alexander," Now I find
that Moorcroft begins a letter of introduction, written in
Kashmir in the year 1823, with the following words : " The
object of this address is to bespeak your good offices for
Mr. Alexander Csoma, or Sekunder Beg, of Transsylvania,
whom I now take the liberty to introduce." Alexander,
Sekunder, Iskender, Iskander Gander, Iskender Bek was
certainly Csoma's noiii de guerre in Asia,
" How did this Ganderbek occupy himself?"
" That I do not know, but I remember from my child-
hood that every one spoke well of him, and that he was
highly respected."
" Is it certain that he lived in this little house ? "
" Yes, that is quite certain ; it was always said so from
the time of my childhood. Ten years ago the house was
shaky and the beams were jointed more firmly together,
but just in the same form as before,"
A low door and a small window open on to the
verandah, both with red-painted frames while the other
parts of the wall are white. The inner walls are of stone
recently white-washed, and therefore it is useless to look
for any remarks written or scratched on the walls. On
the long side opposite the door and window stand a
wooden bench and a small cupboard, both roughly made
in European, not Asiatic, form. Yangpur asserted that
they had belonged to Ganderbek. In addition there was
a simple wooden couch. Narrow beams supported the
149- Csoma's Celi.
""" — O- ' " -v-rrrT' -;.--- —
150. Csoma's Housk in Kanam.
Sketches liy the Author.
XXXII A LEARNED LAMA 395
roof and the floor was constructed of thicker boards. The
whole accords exactly with Gerard's description : " Two
rustic benches and a couple of ruder chairs are all the
furniture in his small abode." Now the chairs were gone,
that was all. The position of the house in the village and
with relation to the Kanjur-lhakang is just as described
by Gerard,
One of the finest landscapes on earth was displayed to
the eyes of the student when he stepped out on to the
verandah. Deep down at the bottom of the valley the
narrow wild Sutlej winds through abrupt corridors, and in
the background rise the sharply cut pyramids of the Kailas
group. Dark-green patches are seen on some slopes^ — -
coniferous woods. How often must Csoma have looked
at these mountains and valleys during his years of solitude !
I could not gaze at them long enough, monuments erected
to his memory as they seemed to me.
But the hours had slipped away and it was time to go
down to the tents. Half-way down we looked for a
moment into a third small temple, the Tarbaling-Ikakang ,
which had been redecorated five years before and was
bright with gaudy colours. The old gods keep their
places, Chamba sits there, ten feet high, with dangling
legs and a crown-shaped diadem on his head. The monks
differ from their brethren in Tibet in wearing small yellow
caps and beards. Young bareheaded nuns carried water
up to the monastery. Twenty monks and twenty-three
nuns, belonging to the yellow sect, are said to serve in the
sanctuaries of Kanam,
We had seen enough and, indeed, could see no more,
for the darkness was deepening, and just as we prepared
to go on again the conch summoned the monks to evening
service, and a lama on the roof of the Tarbaliug intoned in
a loud clear voice " Om mani padme hum." The six holy
syllables sounded as melodiously as the call to prayer of
the muezzin from the platform of a minaret at sunset.
The dogs barked in the yards and the grasshoppers kept
up a shrill concert in the thickets. But above every sound
was heard the roar of the mighty river down in the valley.
When I reached the tents Little Puppy came to meet
396 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxxn
me barking a welcome. But why did not Takkar come ?
He was not lying at his usual post among the tents. Two
of my men went out to look for him, scoured the roads
and bridges in the neighbourhood, shouted his name, and
called him with piercing whistles. But he did not hear,
and never showed himself again. He had turned round
and run back to Poo.
CHAPTER XXXIII
MY AMAZONIAN ESCORT
The morning of September 2 was pleasant and cool after
55.9° in the night. The gnats did their best to disturb me
in my sleep, and it would have been well if I had had a
mosquito net ; but what did it matter, for I had run the
gauntlet and was now immune ?
Noisy music of drums, cymbals, and trombones from
the roof of the upper monastery of Kanam awoke me early
in the morning, and when I looked out of my tent a new
relay of coolies was waiting for our baggage. They wished
to set out early that they might not have to march during
the hottest hours of the day. Only two were men, and all
the rest women, in frocks of coarse material and black,
brown, or grey vests, which left the arms and shoulders
bare. Silver pendants dangled from the lobes of their ears,
bangles of brass adorned their wrists, and their naked feet
surprised me, for they might have to walk over sharp
rubbish and unmade paths where even horses get sore feet.
But their soles are hardened by constant wear, and are as
little sensitive as the callosities of a camel's foot. Our
noble portresses had never touched the water of the brook
of Kanam, but they were jolly, fresh, and dainty. Mothers
and young girls slung our baggage by cords and straps on
to their backs in a moment, and vanished with it into
the shady lanes of Kanam.
A little later we followed in their footsteps along the
bank of a canal shaded by leafy walnut trees. Blessed
summer, lovely vegetation, how long it is since I saw such
wealth ! We are soon out of the maze of Kanam ; the
397
398 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
memorable village and its picturesque houses like swallows'
nests disappear among the hills, and we go down to a
bridge over the brook and up on the other side to the
village of Kyap. Pill, too, and other villages, we pass on
the road, which is still bad. I prefer my own legs to those
of my horse, especially as a huge overhanging rock obliges
me occasionally to bend my head sideways over the yawn-
ing abyss. We are now no longer so high above the
rushing whirlpools of the Sutlej. The current is no longer
so swift, and one feels much inclined to try a raft on this
restless water.
We are at a sharp corner where the great side valley
Kirang comes down to the Sutlej. The bridge over the
tributary stands rather far up the valley, so the road runs
up to a sharp point. From the corner we descend at first.
The landscape is magnificent and fascinating. Old fir-trees
spread over us their refreshing sweet-scented crowns,
while below us the cliffs fall suddenly to the Kirang river,
hiding it from us in the meantime. In only two bends of
its bed can we see the stream tossing in white foaming
falls and rapids over boulders and bars, and w^e perceive
that the pure cold water of the Kirang is able, on account
of its greater velocity and huge volume, to thrust out a
light-green semicircle into the grey dirty Sutlej. Up the
valley are seen fields and villages, one of them being
Kirang. Just by the solid bridge the river forms thunder-
ing falls, dashing over gigantic rounded boulders. Wher-
ever one turns the eyes fall on a charmingly beautiful
scene. Let us linger a moment in the shadow of a rock to
drink a cup of the cold water of the Kirang, which brings
fresh greetings from glaciers and firns to the heat prevail-
ing here. Life is worth living !
Here one might forget all his duties to stay for years
as Csoma of Koros did. But we must go on, up the right
bank where the road runs through fine woods of firs. Here
I can ride again. From the Kirang bridge the road is
excellent, for so far the trade highway, planned by the
Indian Government to the Tibetan frontier, is finished.
Above Kirang also we had seen preliminary work at many
places. Will the Tibetan Government follow this example
XXXIII MY AMAZONIAN ESCORT 399
on the other half of the route, from the frontier to Gartok ?
Yes, if they are compelled by a treaty, not otherwise. On
the Tibetan side, moreover, there are greater difficulties to
contend with. But, as it is, the stranger from Tibet gives
a sigh of relief when he is past the Kirang valley. He
enters on a splendidly made road, which avoids all
dangerous precipitous cliffs or abrupt slopes, and has
everywhere a regular gradual ascent.
And here ! Another reminder of the power of England
and the proximity of civilization. A small black tablet on
a milestone bears in white oil-colour the inscription,
"Simla 165," and for greater assurance a light-coloured
board with black figures proclaims once more " 165." So
many English miles still separate us from our destination.
We regard this milestone with a certain respect ; it knows
more than we do. It has 164 comrades, and we must pass
them all. With growing elation the pilgrims watch the
numbers fall and the distance shorten. 165 miles more to
Simla — a mere trifle when I think of the distance I have
travelled !
I sit dreaming on my white horse as though spell-
bound. The whole air sings, there is a buzz and murmur
in the forest and in the depth of the valley. What is it,
then ? Ah, our guard of Amazons is climbing the heights.
Look there, how they stride along between the trees in a
row, with heavy firm steps and swinging gait. How
charming sounds the song from young, almost childish,
throats, and how happy ! Before we overtake them they
have halted to take a rest. Gulam and Kunchuk, who
accompany them, have never enjoyed themselves so well
in their lives ; they dance for pleasure and are quite beside
themselves.
I wish to hear them sing again and wait therefore
until they troop off under the dark pines. The rhythmical
sonorous singing peals out through the forest and is not
overpowered even by the roar of the Sutlej. We might be
in a theatre. And what a theatre ! Look at the back-
ground formed by the mountains on the left side of the
Sutlej ! Look at those gloomy recesses of dark-green
conifers ! The setting is the best after all. And round
400 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
about whisper gentle zephyrs with the odour of the forest,
and the roar of the victorious river resounds among the
mountains. We travel as to a festival in these heavenly-
Himalayas. How different from dreary Tibet, where
no forests overshadowed our road, no rivers made for the
sea, and no women sang !
I ride in front. The singing becomes fainter and dies
away in the distance. Only occasionally when we, the
choir of singers and myself, find ourselves at the same time
on a projecting spur of rock, can a few low notes be heard.
But beyond the next corner of mica-schist I hear the song
no more.
When I reached the village of Gyengring our horses and
mules were already grazing on a meadow, and I rode off to
our first bungalow, the last shelter on the Tibetan road.
The keeper stood squarely in front of the door and told
me that I could not pass the night there without a permit
from Simla. A permit from Simla, when I came from
Tibet ! In Totling the doors were shut in our faces, but
here we were on English ground. " Out of the way, old
man." The lock must have been out of order for the door
opened when I grasped the knob, and in a minute I had
made myself comfortable in a pleasant room with a bed-
stead, table, and chairs. The yard where the men set up
their tents stands like a platform above the valley, and the
view over the Sutlej is charming.
Our female coolies laid down their loads in front of the
bungalow and sat down to wait for their pay. And they
had to wait for a while until I had drawn the portraits of
some of them. Then they received an extra douceur for
their pretty cheerful singing.
Little Puppy made me laugh by the extraordinarily
cautious way in which he crossed the threshold of the
bungalow. Apparently he thought it was some kind of
bridge. " It is surely some new devilry," as Sancho Panza
says at a historical moment in the edition of Don Quixote,
which wiled away many a long evening in Tibet. When
Little Puppy had convinced himself that the deals of the
floor did not shake like the bridges of the Sutlej, he
picked up courage and laid himself down in the shade.
■^.:si!;*
m^
'^"''^.
151. \'iK\v FROM Camp 47cS.
,-<-a.
,.-:\
'-^
S%
■■- ^:^^^^3>.
A^'^'^>
>^
152. Cable over the Sua River.
■V>-J^'->=-='^"- >J
153. Gyengring, Station in the Sitlej Valley.
Sketches bv the Author.
xxxin MY AMAZONIAN ESCORT 401
On September 3 our loads were transported, not by
Amazons, but on mules, a striking contrast. But the Sutlej
remained with us, and the road was always beautiful. On
the farther bank opens the great side valley Rangri, and
snow mountains shimmer in the background. Above the
villages Morang and Risba, Kailas, or Keila as the name
is pronounced here, towers among the clouds, a huge dome
of snow and ice, with a circle of sharp pinnacles like a
royal crown.
We have come somewhat lower, and the roar of the
river is louder. The village of Apek lies behind us, and
Aren below us ; we pass by Riberang on the left bank and
by Rarang. I scorn the bungalow of the latter, but turn
my attention to its chhorten portal and its w^?zz walls ; they
convince me that here Lamaism still holds its own. A
man passing by gives me a fine bunch of grapes ; the
berries are very sour but refreshing, and the main thing is
that they are actually grapes. The heat is not great ;
there is a wind, and the forest is dense ; the dark-brown or
grey stems of the conifers often stand among large boulders
of granite and mica-schist. Where the road has been
damaged by landslips and the decay of the timber, navvies
are at work with spades and picks, and they always beg for
a trifle to recompense them for their labour on behalf of
travellers. We are now close to the Sutlej, and the noise
is quite deafening. The river is larger than we have yet
seen it, and is encumbered with foaming rapids. It would
be death to attempt a voyage on a raft.
Two men on foot in Indian uniform came up and
saluted us. One bore on his shoulder-strap a metal plate
with the inscription, " His Highness the Raja of Beshahr."
" What do you want ? " I asked.
" The Tesildarof Chini has sent us to attend on you and
look after the transport."
"How did he know that I was coming ? "
" Deva Ram of Poo has sent a runner."
And now we go uphill again, but not for long. Where
we come down to the river again the road describes a
double loop in the form of the figure 8. Chutar-kar is
a large side valley with a fine river, crossed by a bridge ot
2 D
402 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
two arches. The valley is sunk between vertical cliffs ;
its fall is rapid, its channel full of blocks. The river fights
its way down with frantic fury and forms a succession of
white foaming falls. Here we halt for a while to watch
the struggle of the water with the stones. The noise of
the Sutlej is lost in this thundering tumult.
Beyond the bridge comes another stretch of fine coni-
ferous forest, so dense that it is twilight under the crowns.
A sunbeam breaks through here and there, and makes a
granite boulder glow like fire. But the country is most
beautiful where we see nothing on all sides but perpen-
dicular cliffs. Here the road is blasted out of the rock, and
the schist, gneiss, or granite forms an arched roof over
our heads. Owing to the blasting the rock presents a fresh
surface of fracture. On the outer side the road is protected
by a low stone wall with small drainage holes.
In a valley trough on the left bank we perceive the
village of Pundam with its huts, fields, and groves. On
our side the fresh dark-green forest increases in extent,
and we enjoy the strong odour of pines. The road forks ;
its right branch leads up to the comfortable bungalow of
the village Pangi, where I can lie and stretch myself in a
deck chair on the balcony, and where white Vandals have
perpetuated their unknown names on the table top.
Illustrated papers and ragged novels are also signs of
tourists' visits.
Early next morning the whole Sutlej valley lay buried
in white mist, through which only the nearest trees were
faintly visible — otherwise the verandah of the bungalow
might have been an airship floating among the clouds.
Soon the mist parted and the peaks of Kailas appeared
again brightly lighted by the morning sun, with the
turquoise-blue sky as background.
A short way beyond the bungalow we pass the village
of Pangi and then through the well-watered Kojang valley,
in which stand clapping mills and neat compounds. Farther
down we come to Chini. While the caravan is proceeding
to Rogi I go up to visit the missionaries, Mr. and Mrs.
Bruske, and talk with them a while about the Land of Snow,
for they have long watched for an opportunity of travelling
XXXIII MY AMAZONIAN ESCORT 403
to Tibet to preach the Gospel to the followers of Buddha.
I could not encourage their hopes of better times and an
open road over the frontier. They proposed to give up
their fixed dwelling and travel about among the villages
to address the people. In Chini " Om mani padme hum "
has not all its own way with the souls of men. We are
now in a district where Lamaism is losing its hold and
Hinduism has the upper hand. Only a quarter of the
population is Lamaist, and there is one Lama monastery
for two Hindu temples. Several new chhortens and mani
walls seem to indicate a chance revival of the Tibetan
religion. The village is said to contain 500 inhabitants,
who all belong to one tribe called Kanauri and are divided
into three clans, each with its own language, or at least a
dialect widely different from the other two, in which many
Tibetan words are incorporated.
Time flies quickly in pleasant company, and all too
soon I am obliged to leave the kindly missionary couple,
and ride on along the road which, for the most part, is
blasted out of vertical cliffs and has a crenellated breast-
work. It is not much farther to Rogi, where we make
ourselves at home in the bungalow. The camping place
is numbered 490, and we have only ten days' journey to
Simla. It would be bad luck if the mad dog were to bite
us, which is rendering the roads of the neighbourhood
unsafe according to the warning " Cave canem " displayed
on posters.
Here we are at a height of 9350 feet. The minimum
at night is 57.7°, and the air is fresher than it was higher
up. We still see the peaks of Kailas, partially veiled in a
dense mantle of cloud. Granite surrounds us and black
mica-schist dipping to the north.
I write September 5. Again milky-white impenetrable
mist fills the valley, but it is almost gone by nine o'clock,
leaving only thin wisps of light gauzy cloud. The forest
becomes thinner, the road runs through tracts of bare rock,
the Sutlej is out of sight but its roar fills the mountains
and valleys. I have forcibly to suppress an exclamation
at a corner of the road where the indescribably magnificeni
valley of the Sutlej again comes into view. Look on the
404 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
other side at that wild side valley, Bosba-garang, with its
great river rushing for better or worse to the Sutlej. The
main river grows with every fresh tribute of water which
it mingles with its own. Just hear it roar. Look how it
works to cut ever deeper into the heart of the Himalayas.
Think of the pressure of this volume of water, and re-
member that it is in constant movement and rolls boulders
and pebbles down its bed. No wonder that the valley is
so deep, and that the landscape which fascinates our eyes
assumes such grand contours and wildly-fissured forms.
In a small, deep side valley with a brightly-rippling
brook we meet a mule caravan with loads which can only
belong to a white man. There he comes, the owner, on
foot, in a light summer scouting suit with a white Indian
helmet on his head. Of course I dismount, and we salute
each other. It is Lieut. -Colonel W. W. Norman, of the
22nd Regiment of the Frontier Force, with whom I have
the honour to converse. We talk perhaps an hour in the
shade before we go on, each in his own direction.
We have now descended, and the noise of the river
increases in force. Ah, there is another side valley, the
deep channel of the Yula-garang, which has cut down into
the solid rock with furious violence. Beyond its bridge
the road mounts again up to the bungalow of the village
Urni. I wonder if anywhere in the whole world there can
be a camping-ground in a finer situation than this, hanging
over the valley of the Sutlej and commanding a charming
view of the gigantic chasm up-stream. The station build-
ings have been purposely erected at the grandest point of
view, in order to attract tourists from Simla.
Atmospheric effects presented a singular spectacle at
Urni. The valley became suddenly filled with white
vapour, which completely veiled all the environs and was
not dispersed even by the heavy rain which poured down
for an hour and a half. But when the rain ceased, a light
breeze swept away the mist little by little, and white
cloudlets came sailing along like dragons, while others in
the form of balls and bells rose slowly upwards like
balloons. The bottom of the valley was still filled with
clouds of fog. The whole scene was extremely curious
XXXIII MY AMAZONIAN ESCORT 405
and perplexing. A sea of milk from which rose islands
and holms. Air, water, earth, everything is alive in the
Himalayas. In the heart of Tibet there is life only in the
air, and the water is only occasionally roused from its
torpid sleep when the storm wind lashes the lakes, and the
surf strums its melancholy hymns on the beach.
The next milestone announces that we have only 1 26
miles to travel. 7874 feet above sea-level say the hypso-
metrical instruments. And the minimum thermometer
declares that we had 6il° in the night of September 5.
Now we go down again, and after two hours are barely
65 feet above the river, and its din is overwhelming.
" What is the name of this river? " I ask the guide.
" Ganga," he replies.
" Not Langchen-kamba .-* "
'• No, I have never heard that name." The Tibetan
appellation stops at the frontier. The answer of the guide
might seem to imply another confusion of the Sutlej with
the Ganges, but^^;^^^ means simply " The River."
Our road skirts the bank. At one place three huge
boulders have fallen into the river and the water flows
between as through a gateway. A dangerous-looking path
also runs along the left bank where a small deeply excavated
valley opens — the Ramni-kar.
The gneiss stands in abrupt cliffs facing the valley, and
huge blocks lie more frequently in the bed, like signs of
warning to travellers and caravans of the danger that is
ever present there. The water has eaten into them until
they have been worn round, and a patient stream of water
has hollowed out holes and indentations in their sides, flat
surfaces and curved ridges — gutta cavat lapidem. h is
their fate to be annihilated in time and be replaced by new-
blocks. Round them the water dances in foaming waves,
showers of spray shoot up from hissing cascades between
narrow apertures, and small falls pour down in bright
domes of water which passes below into foaming whirlpools
and witches' cauldrons. A raft would be of no use here ;
it would be dashed to pieces before one had time to look
round, however stoutly it might be built.
A new surprise awaits us at a place where the rocks
CHAP. XXXIII
406 TRANS-HIMALAYA
fall perpendicularly to the river, or slightly overhang. To
blast out a gallery in the rocks would have been too
expensive, for the distance is a hundred yards. Therefore
all that has been done is to fix stanchions into borings in
the rock and lay over them an open bridge with a rail on
the outside. The height of this bridge above the river is
perhaps a hundred and thirty feet, and when one leans
over the railing the Sutlej is immediately below. Here
the view is splendid, almost awful.
Beyond this bridge clinging to the precipice the valley
contracts, though all dimensions are still colossal. Caves
and gigantic potholes, once worn out by the water of the
river, yawn empty and dry on both sides of the valley,
showing how deep the river has cut its way down since they
were formed. Again a noise of thunder is heard in front of
us. The side valley, Pabe-kar, sends its great stream down
to the Sutlej. A white imposing waterfall leaps down
above the bridge over the Pabe. This bridge does not
spoil the landscape. It rests on natural piers and dams,
on boulders that have fallen into the bed. Overcome with
astonishment and admiration I remain standing and
sacrifice two of my last copper coins.
The next surprise in our way is the fine Wang-tu
bridge, which, borne by ten wire cables anchored in the
rocks, throws its solid roadway across the Sutlej. We
have never been so low (5361 feet) and we are only six
feet above the river. But we do not enjoy the satisfaction
long, for on the left bank the path winds up again to the
rest-house of the village of Nachar.
One of our horses from Bongba was resting with his
leader at a bend in the road. He stood on trembling legs
and whinnied with pleasure as he saw his white companion
and his countryman pass by. But he saw us for the last
time and his whinny was a parting greeting. Why did he
stand in the broiling sun, when there was only a mile to
dense forest with its cool shade ? He could go no farther,
he was worn out. His sight would soon be dimmed by
other shades, darker than those of the forest.
154- Himalayan Scenkky.
155. The Road in the Srri.Ej Kavink
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE LAST
I MIGHT have come to a conclusion at the turn of the road
where the Bongba horse died. The remaining nine days'
journey is only the last section of my retreat from the
Tibetan frontier, which passed through well-known country.
Many Englishmen travel annually along this road, and I
have nothing to relate which has not already been seen
and described by others. But we will let the line run out.
From the bridge of Wang-tu over the Sutlej we ascend
1770 feet to the bungalow of Nachar. During the next
day's journey we descend the height of an Eiffel tower to
Paunda, passing over open slopes or through fine groves
of Himalayan cedars and copses of alder. The traffic
increases and we meet travellers, small herds of black and
white cattle, handsome and well fed, and sometimes with
loads, sometimes without.
Next morning nine coolies stand before the house in
Paunda, waiting for our dilapidated packs, and with them
we descend to the valleys of Soldam which run together
just below the road. Here stands a last Lamaist road-
portal with the usual painting under its arch and a mani
wall beside it. The religion of Tibet burns in these valleys
with an expiring flame. Here waterfalls and cascades
shoot down, here rivers murmur among stones and boulders,
here the environment is quite different from that in the
quiet, majestic repose of Tibetan monasteries with their
peaceful solemn gloom. We are again so low down
that forest cannot flourish, but we see its dark masses on
the heights to the left of our road.
407
4o8 TRANS-HIMALAYA
When we leave the Soldam valley we again mount to
the forest zone and soon enter its dark shady canopy.
Our coolies march up leaning forwards and with slow
steady steps, often resting and propping their loads
against blocks and ledges without taking them off. At the
bungalow of the village Taranda we are again 7020 feet
above sea-level.
It rained heavily in the evening and night, and when
we set out next morning the road was slippery with mud,
and drops fell from the drenched foliage. But the air was
beautifully cool, and there was a pleasant odour from the
forest. Sometimes we went down gradually, sometimes
remained for a good way at the same height. We crossed
three side valleys and a small pass before we reached the
rest-house of the village Sarahan.
Here I was surprised by a letter written in English
from the Raja of Beshahr, Shumshir Sing by name, who
in polite terms asked if he might pay me a visit. I should
think so ! A Raja asking for an audience ! " Your High-
ness will be heartily welcome," I wrote back. And
His Highness came, but not a highland prince with
light elastic gait. He was a very shrivelled old man,
who, from age and infirmities, could no longer stand
on his feet, much less walk, but was carried on a
litter by turbaned servants. They helped him to an
easy-chair in my room and then a very singular con-
versation began. The noble prince was almost stone
deaf and I had to yell into his ear to make myself
audible. His English was not easily comprehensible to
any one who can hear as well as I can. But for all that
we chatted away, both at the same time, and before I had
thought of giving directions to Gulam my guest gave his
own orders.
" Bring me some tea and cake, and put tobacco before
me, for I will smoke a pipe."
Meanwhile he looked round at all the trifles lying
about, and, without a change of countenance, and without
speaking a word, put two of my last pencils into his pocket.
No doubt it had become a habit of his to plunder the
visitors to the bungalow in this harmless fashion, and I
'^xxiv THE LAST 409
would willingly have given him a whole cart-load of pencils
if I had been able.
" How old is Your Highness ? " I asked.
" Forty-nine years," he answered boldly, and without a
rnoment's hesitation, though he must certainly have seen
eighty springs pass over the lovely country of Sarahan.
" How old is Your Honour.^ " he asked me.
" Forty-three," I replied.
" Then I am three years older than you."
"Just so," I answered, for I would not make a fuss
about a paltry difference of three years, when he himself
had so coolly taken off some thirty years. Thereupon this
remarkable visit came to an end. My offer to return his
visit was decidedly refused. Early next morning the old
Raja was announced again, but 1 sent word that I un-
fortunately could not see him, and made off quickly with
my pencils.
The next day's journey took me over the side valley
Manglard-kard to the bungalow of Gaora, which was,
indeed, smaller and more unpretentious than the fore-
going, but to me dearer and richer in memories. For
here a messenger sent from Simla by my gallant friend,
J. R. Dunlop Smith, brought me a large bag of letters
from Stockholm. Now I forgot everything about me ;
the proud heights of the Himalayas towering above me
vanished ; it was a whole year since I had heard a word
from home.
At Gaora the height above the sea is 6024 feet, and
the temperature fell in the night of September 10 to 40.8',
so that it was quite cold in the morning. But it was to be
very different during the day. The road runs down all
the way, and I went on foot through this incomparable
country. In the large village of Rampur on the Sutlej I
was only 3870 feet above the sea, so that I had descended
2150 feet during the day. The air was damp, warm, and
close as in a conservatory. The breath of the hot Indian
summer fanned our faces. The Sutlej foams some thirty
yards below the village, and its well-known roar agam
salutes the ear. The river is imposing here. Its droning
murmur seems to announce that it is proud of its work.
4IO TRANS-HIMALAYA
It has overcome the loftiest wildest ranges of the Hima-
layas, and has only small crests to cut through. But it is
tired of its exertions, and longs to get out of the mountains
to the open plains of the Punjab and the boundless sea —
Thalassa, Thalassa !
Raj Sahib Mangat Ram, one of the officials of the little
state, had come half-way to meet me, and while I sat writ-
ing at the large table in the verandah of the bungalow, he
had twelve dishes laid on a carpet on the tioor, containing
piled-up rice, spices, sweet biscuits, and fruit. Also a
servant dragged in a struggling sheep. I made my
acknowledgments for the attention, fully determined to
make good the value of the presents in full. For Beshahr
is a poor state, and its officials certainly cannot afford to
present fruit and refreshments to all the white visitors who
choose to put in an appearance at Rampur, The state
revenue is said to amount to thirty thousand rupees.
When it was proposed to build a new bridge near Poo,
where we dangled under the fearful cable over the river,
not more than eighteen hundred rupees could be spared
for its construction. The new bridge would have gone
the same way as the old. The budget has also other
expenses to provide for ; thus the state minister receives
for the invaluable services he renders to the principality
two hundred rupees a month, and there can be very little
left for the little Raja who is so fond of pencils.
Yet the Raja could afford to live in Rampur in a palace
called Shishe Mahal, or the Glass Palace, a commonplace
building in debased oriental style, with coloured glass
windows, badly-painted portraits of the owner and other
princes, and cheap, showy knick-knacks on the walls and in
the verandahs. The court bears the pretentious name of
Top-khaneh, or Artillery Court, and two old rusty muzzle-
loaders actually stand in it. All bears the imprint of
decline, decay, and bad taste. Give me the monasteries
of Tibet, their solid architecture and pure unadulterated
style.
There is little else to see in Rampur. But yes ! A
bridge over the Sutlej, a bazaar street with shops and
workshops just as in India, a post-house, a school, and two
XXXIV THE LAST 411
Hindu temples, which contend successfully with a Lamaist
monastery for the souls of the inhabitants. In the last
a solitary lama showed us the great prayer-cylinder with
its 187,000 manis, which was just then being turned by a
believer. He told me also that this is the last monastery
on the road from Tibet. Then farewell ye monks with
your everlasting " Om mani padme hum ! "
Next morning all the office-bearers presented them-
selves for a farewell visit, now reinforced by the post-
master, the schoolmaster, and a fat pundit named Narayan
Dutt. After all who had been attentive to us had received
liberal gratuities, I wished to pay for the entertainment of
the previous day and for the sheep. The rupees were
counted out on the table, but the noble gentlemen de-
clared magnanimously that the edibles were a state affair,
a gift of welcome in the name of His Highness the Raja
of Beshahr, and that compensation was out of the question.
So I thanked them for their liberal hospitality, bade them
send my acknowledgments to the Raja, and mounted the
tall black horse which I hired here, and which was to
carry me to Simla instead of my faithful white friend from
Kamba Tsenam's tent.
The good men and women escorted me in procession
when I left Rampur. The schoolboys were drawn up in
two ranks on the road, and giggled and salaamed as we
rode past. " Good luck to you, boys," I called out, and
then I begged the procession to wear out no more shoe-
leather on my account. ' Glad to be released from the
constraints of politeness, they bowed low and returned to
the village.
I ride on along the Sutlej river. The majestic stream
is quieter and smoother. The valley widens a little, the
slopes become less abrupt, the road runs thirty to sixty feet
above the water, and on the bridge over the tributary
Nogri we can again admire foaming emerald green volumes
of water which disappear in the lap of the Sutlej. Beyond
the village of Date-nagar the river makes a sharp bend,
and at the narrowest point a rope bridge hangs between
the banks. This long hammock does not look exactly
trustworthy, but it is grand compared to the cable near Poo.
412 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap.
In Nirit we are at a height of 3658 feet, and at one
o'clock read off 87.8°. This seems oppressively hot to
those who have spent two years in Tibet. Even night
does not bring coolness here, for the minimum is 70.5°.
I must relate an amusing little incident in Nirit. As
I sat writing, Gulam came into the verandah, quite excited
and boiling over with rage, to tell me that when he, who
always remained behind us to pack up the last articles, was
about to leave Rampur, a bill was quite unexpectedly pre-
sented to him. The good hosts demanded compensation
for the sheep and the other delicacies I wanted to pay for.
As Gulam had no money with him, the man wanted to
take his revolver. At last it was agreed that one of the
men should accompany him to Nirit and lay his claim
before me. And now he presented himself, and when
Gulam saw him his anger burst forth again. He gave him
a couple of such sound buffets that the man tumbled over
into the bushes, and then quickly took to flight. When
Gulam had retired to the kitchen, the unexpected creditor
came back and received compensation not only for the
entertainment but also for the thrashing given him. He
was allowed to keep the sheep, which, curiously enough,
had lived through all the squabble. One has always to
be cautious about presents in the East.
September 13 was a Sunday, and I had a delightful
ride to Kotgar. We had to ascend from 3658 feet at
Nirit to 5610 at Kotgar, or the height of two Eiffel towers,
towards cooler regions. For a time, however, the road
skirts the bank of the famous river. It is still quieter.
There are, indeed, rapids here and there, but the grey
turbid water no longer tosses and foams as violently as
farther up. The Sutlej is tired after its work ; the huge
volumes of water need no longer toil, and they glide
lazily down to the plains, no longer singing loudly and
triumphantly, but still humming the old song. At times
the river is quite silent, and then it lifts its voice in new
rapids. I hear it once more and see it disappear for the
last time behind the hills as I ride away from its bank to
the heights round Tanadar.
How pleasant it is to leave behind the suffocating
XXXIV THE LAST 413
valley and its close humidity. The air becomes cooler and
fresher the higher we mount, and small white clouds cast
shadows on the ground. In the distance appears Kailas
again, the abode of eternal snow.
Several Europeans were staying just then in Kotgar,
and I was entertained with extraordinary hospitality.
Among them was the missionary Bentel, who had worked
thirty-eight years as a preacher. I attended the English
Church in the evening and heard again a Christian service.
The caravan reached the yard of the bungalow at Kotgar
later than usual. One of the horses from Chang-tang had
been unable to climb the ascent from Tanadar; it had
fallen down a precipice and been killed on the spot. Of
ten animals, three had fallen victims to the road from
Tokchen to Simla,
September 14, fifty miles more. At a bend in the road
I met six runners with an empty rickshaw. It was a
pleasant change to take my seat in a light two-wheeled
carriage and be borne over high dome-shaped crests and
ridges. I smoked cigarettes, wrote down my notes, and
let my eyes rove freely over deep valleys and far-stretching
distances. I had no need to be anxious lest my runners
should tire. A new team awaited me at every bungalow,
and I could travel on as long as I liked. At Narkanda
we were higher than we had ever been since leaving Rogi,
8790 feet above the sea. In Theog I stopped for dinner,
and then travelled in the dark with lamps on the shafts.
The wheels creaked, the bare soles of my runners tapped
on the hard smooth road, and the light danced merrily in
front of our party. But it was a pity to lose the beautiful
view, and I did not wish to arrive at Simla in the middle
of the night, so I camped for the last time on this long
journey in the bungalow of Fagu, at a height of 8200
feet.
The last day breaks ! The morning is fresh and bright,
and I set out early for the beautiful place which bears the
camp number 500. My runners skim along as if they
were oiled, and the rickshaw rolls down the gently-falling
ridge towards Simla. The cheerful white summer houses
on the cedar- clothed hills grow larger, and soon we are
414 TRANS-HIMALAYA chap, xxxiv
speeding through the luxuriant pine forests which hang
over deep valleys.
I frequently gaze with pleasure out of my windows
in the hospitable Viceregal Lodge. Now flooded with
sunshine, now overshadowed by heavy rain-clouds, the
Himalayas display their wonders around me. I am
stranded on a reef in a boisterous sea. Beyond the ridges
to the east, I know, the holy mountain lies where Brahma
is enthroned in his heaven and Siva dwells in his paradise.
And beyond the darkness of legends my royal Trans-
Himalaya lifts its snow-clad ranges to the sun.
Westwards the crests of the Himalayas sink down to
low hills, which finally pass into the boundless plains of
the Punjab. On the edge of the horizon these waves
fade away like petrified surf on the coast of a desert sea.
Amid the yellow haze at the foot of the mountains a dark
riband is seen in the distance meandering past Firazpur to
the Indus. It is the Sutlej. The roar of its water still
lingers in my ears, and I still seem to hear the proud river
sing of its yearning for the sea.
c
r^= ^ .
Scale 1:1.500,000
#
#
:
INDEX
Abdul Kerim, my caravan leader, 73 ; his
delay in rejoining us with remainder of
caravan, 75, 79 ; falls in with us at the
Rartse, 98 ; we part company with, at
Tirtapuri, 239
Akbar, the Emperor, expedition sent by,
in search of the Ganges source, 200
Aling-gangri range, discovery of, 149
Andrade, Father Antonio de, 121, 211 ;
books on Tibet by, 298, 305 ; the first
trustworthy explorer of Tibet, 299 ; early
life of, 299 ; Wessels' appreciation of
work of, 300, 302 ; details of journey to
Tibet, 300 ; privations of, 301 ; Kircher
and Klaproth on discoveries of, 302,
303 ; arrival at Tsaparang, 304 ; death
ofj 305 J °" the lama-monks, 305 ;
description of temple-festival in Totling-
gompa, 306 ; disputations with the
lamas, 307 ; his search for traces of
Christianity in Tibet, 309
Anggong, valley and brook of, 279
Anquetil du Perron, Tieffenthaler's work
published by, 199 ; his description of
Manasarowar, 200 ; summary of data of
Tieffenthaler's map, 201 ; criticism of
Rennell's map, 204
Antelopes, cairns used in snaring, 58
Ants, legendary gold-digging, 117
Aong-tsangpo, river, 103, 107
Apek, village of, 401
Appetite, enormous, of Tibetans, 88
Ar, valley, 70
Aren, village of, 401
Argok-tsangpo, river, 107
Argok-tso, lake, view of, 105
Aridity of interior of Tibet, 76
Arrian, the Himalayas styled the Caucasus
by, 117
Aryans of India, the original home of the,
"5
Asia, ancient Vedic conception ot, as a
lotus-blossom, 116
Asses, wild, 6, 8, 18, 103 ; sanctity of, near
Manasarowar, 11
Atkinson, E. T., assumptions in regard to
mountain formation of Tibet, 154
Barley, sheep -caravans of, 5, 9, 69, 70;
ratio of, in value to salt, 1S3 ; our goats'
unlawful meal of growing, 262
" l^eggar, the," our tramp guide, 180, 186,
240, 246, 380
Beligatti, Cassiano, journey of, through
Tibet, 128 ; on mountain-sickness, 128 ;
arrival at Lhasa, 130
Bell, Capuchin church, found in Lhasa,
128
Bennett, Captain A., on the rise of the
Indus and the Sutlej, 224
Bentel, Rev. Mr., missionary at Kotgar,
413
Bernier, Francois, journey of, 194
Beshahr, the Raja of, visits author at
Sarahan, 408
Bichutse, valley, 348
Boat, portable, exciting trip on the Gartong
in, 37 ; voyage down the Indus in, 57
Bogle, George, envoy to the Tashi Lama
from Warren Hastings, 135 ; poor geo-
graphical result of his mission, 135 ;
describes ceremonies in Tashi-Iunpo,
322
Bokar-la, pass, view from, 20
Bokar-tsangpo, a head-stream of the Indus,
2
Bonvalot, Gabriel, journey in eastern
Tibet, 1 56 ; ascent of the Dam pass,
157
Books, our scarcity of, 76
Bosba-garang, valley and river of, 404
Brahmaputra, source of the : locality of,
153; previous dubiety as to, 210;
author's determination of, 210 ; Mont-
gomerie's opinion regarding, 226 ; error
of Murchison and Rawlinson as to,
226
Bruske, Rev. Mr. and Mrs., missionaries
in Chini, 402
Buddhism, Garbe's article on, 313 ; Father
Uahlmann's explanation of its growth,
313 ; Langlus on traces of Christianity
in, 323
Burrard, Colonel S. G., map by, 160 ; on
the Sutlej system, 231
415
4i6
TRANS-HIMALAYA
Butter, mixture of, with tea, 88
Buttons, military uniform, as female orna-
ments, loi
Cable, wire-, transportation of caravan
across the Sutlej by, 368 ; perilous
journey across, 372 ; across the Sha
river, 382
Cairns, votive, 3, 9, 32
Calvert, Mr., 21, 30
Camp life, monotony of, 76
Campbell, Dr., on Alexander Csoma, 391
Cannibalism, alleged, of the Tibetans in
the Middle Ages, 1 19
Capuchin mission in Tibet, 125, 127, 128,
316
Caravan, equipment of, by Gulam Razul,
33
Caravan-trade, details of, 33
Cartography, arm-chair, 143, 151
Catholicism. See Lamaism and Catholi-
cism
Caucasus, name given by Arrian to the
Himalayas, 1 17
Chagring-la, pass, 39
Chaldi-chiildi, desert of, 26
Changsang-karpo, difficult travelling at,
29
Chang-tang, "Northern Plain, 2; de-
scribed by Father della Penna, 130
Changtso, the, superintendent of Totling-
gompa, author's cross-examination by,
293.
Chergip-gompa, monastery, 179
Chila-gompa, monaster)', 376
Chilam, village of, 71
Chinese, hazy geographical notions of, re-
garding Tibet, 138
Chini, village of, missionaries met at,
402 ; diverse dialects and religions in,
403
Chiu, spring of, 41
Chiu-gompa, second camp at, 179 ; monas-
tery of, 179
Chok, village of, 361
Chokchu, Governor of. See Sonam
Ngurbu
Choktse, barley-fields of, 337
Chornak, side-valley of, 241
Chornak-chu, black water of the, 241
Christianity, Father Andrade's search for
traces of, in Tiljet, 309 ; influence of, on
Lamaism, 314, 323
Chukta, the, affluent of the Sutlej, 184
Chumurti, 277, 331
Chusan, "warm water," hot springs of,
4°
Chushul, village of, camp at, 67 ; festivals
of dancing and music in our honour at,
68 ; temples of, 68 ; departure from, 69
Chutar-kar, bridge at, 401
Chuwang-chun, valley, 349
Climate, effect of changes of, on Sutlej
valley, 288
Cloud- Messenger, The, lyrical poem by
Kalidasa, 192
Clouds, course of, across Tibet, 191
Coins, use of, as female ornaments, 103
Colebrooke, H. T., article on the Ganges
source by, 2IO ; on Moorcroft's journey,
212
Colorado valley, similarity of the Sutlej
valley to the, 243, 264
Coolies, our caravan of, 379, 381 ; women,
from Kanam, 397, 399, 400
Cordier, Henri, Odorico's narrative edited
by, 120, 318
Costume, female, details of, at Kyangyang,
101
Cremation of monks at Mangnang-gompa,
283
Crossing, our perilous, near Poo, 369
Csoma, Alexander, of Koros, 386 ; travels
and studies of, 387 ; Moorcroft's assist-
ance to, 388 ; his researches into Tibetan
language and literature, 389 ; life in
Calcutta, 391 ; linguistic attainments of,
391 ; illness and death at Darjiling, 392 ;
recollections of, in Kanam, 394
Cunningham, Sir Alexander, introduction
and application of the name "Trans-
Himalaya" by, 147 ; on the location of
the Indus and Sutlej sources, 223
Cunningham, Lieutenant J. D., conclusion
as to connection of Manasarowar and
Rakas-tal, 220
Daba, camp at, 264 ; welcome provisions
obtained at, 265 ; picturesque appearance
of, 266 ; trade of, 266 ; Hindu traders
at, 267 ; buildings of, 267 ; interview
with Tugden Nima, 268 ; author's attire
at, 269 ; an interesting testimonial, 271 ;
winter isolation of, 274 ; Hindu enter-
tainment at, 274
Daba-gompa, monastery, visit to, 271 ;
temple-halls of, 272 ; picturesqueness of,
273
Dahlmann, Father Joseph, on the spread
of Buddhism, 313
Dalai Lama, the, Samye Karmo on, 258
Dam, village of, 130, 150
Dambak-la, pass, 348
Dam-largen-la, pass, 150, 157, 159
Damrap-tso, salt lake, 103
D'Anville, map of, 133, 143, 195, 209
Darma-yankti, tributary of the Sutlej, 221
Date-nagar, rope-bridge at, 411
Da-teri valley, view of, 105
Dato-la, pass, 341
Dava Shah, Leh merchant met in Gartok,
34
Dead, treatment of Tibetan, in early times,
119, 121
INDEX
417
Delia Penna, Father, 128, 129, 151 ;
describes Chang -tang, 130; on the
similarity of the Tibetan and the Roman
religions, 316
Demchok, frontier village of Tibet, 60
Desert, interminable length of, 26
Desgodins, Abbe C. H., on Lamaism, 321
Desideri, Father Ippolito, remarkable
journey of, 125; long-delayed publication
of details, 126, 136 ; the first European
to describe Kailas, 126 ; Manasarowar
first described by, 196
Detritus, cones of, 43, 98, 287
Deva Ram, magistrate of Poo, 371, 401
Ding-la, pass, great height of, 104, 148
Ding-la valley, difficult travelling in, 104
Disintegration effects, 25
Dogs, miscellaneous escort of, 41, 61 ; our
veteran, Brown Puppy, 61 ; Little Puppy,
^^■, m; Takkar eats a wolf-cub, 77;
Kamduk's fideHty, 109 ; Little Puppy
and Takkar's fright at Kyung-lung
bridge, 253 ; Takkar's predicament at
Y^""! 353 ; discomfort of, at Poo, 374 ;
Takkar's sufferings in the increasing
heat, 383 ; his return to Poo, 396 ; Little
Puppy's distrust of bungalow at Gyeng-
ring, 400
Dolchu-gompa, monastery, 182
Dongbo-chu, river, camp on, 260
Dongbo-gompa, monastery, 259
Dongbo valley, 259
Dorche Pagmo, "holy sow," Lama saint,
187
Dorville, Albert, journey through Tibet,
122
Dotsa-la, pass, panoramic view from, 24
Dotsa spring, camp at, 24
Drugub, author's new journey begun at,
73
Drummond, Mr., voyage on Manasarowar,
223
Duka, Dr. Th., work on Alexander Csoma
by, -h^i
Duncan, Mr., account of Manasarowar in
article by, 205
Dungkang, camp at, 64
Dunglung, springs of, view from, 66
Dunglung-chenmo, valley, 31
Dunglung-sumbo, camp at, 32
Dungmar-la, pass, view from, 351
Dunlop-Smith, Sir J. R., 409
Dust-spouts, 17
Earthquake, shocks of, at Selipuk, 90 ;
author's previous experience of, 90
Ekai Kawaguchi, Indian and Tibetan
travels of, 227
Emodos, classical name for the Himalayas,
117
Erosion terraces of the Sutlej, 1S4, 245
European, the first, to visit Lhasa, 120 ;
my first meeting with, for two years,
374 ; a learned European lama, 386
Fagu, bungalow of, 413
fidelity, conjugal, an unknown virtue in
Tibet, 90
Eraser, James B., search for the source of
the Sutlej, 217
Freyre, Father Manuel, 125, 196
Fuel, unexpected find of, 7
Gabet, Father, journey to Lhasa, 143
Ganga, or Nganga, the, connecting channel
between Manasarowar and Rakas-tal,
198, 228, 231
Ganges, source of the : erroneous placing
of, in early times, 193, 196, 197, 208 ;
probable origin of the error, 198, 228 ;
the Emperor Akbar's expedition in
search of, 200 ; Colebrooke's article on,
210 ; Lieutenant Webb's expedition to,
211 ; Kawaguchi's misconception of, 228
Gangotri, determination of, as source of the
Ganges, 212
Gangri range, Strachey's description of the,
152; Saunders' statement regarding it,
154
Gaora bungalow, letters from home at,
409
Garbe, Richard, article on Buddhism by,
313
Gar-chu. See Gartong
Gar-gunsa, camp removed to, 36 ; arrival
of supplies at, 40
Garpuns, or viceroys, 32, 36
Gartok, post-road between Tok-jalung and,
23 ; arrival at, 32 ; wearisome wait at,
33 ; visit Gulam Razul at, 33 ; details of
commerce of, 34 ; distance to Leh and
Shigatse from, 34 ; visit to temple of,
34 ; folklore and legends at, 35 ; de-
parture from, 36 ; letter sent to Indian
Government Agent at, 85
Gartong, river, 32 ; valley of, 36, 40 ;
perilous boat-journey down, 37 ; view
down the, 43 ; confluence with the Singi-
kamba, 44, 46 ; measurement of its
volume and velocity, 45
Gar-yarsa-gompa, temple of Gartok, visit
to, 34
Gaubil, Father, map of, compared with
that of author, 198
Gebye-la, Trans-Himalayan pass, 8l
Geese, wild, 10, 17
Gelle-limgpa, valley, in
Geological work in the Trans-Himalaya,
162
Georgi, the Alphabet tun Tibet anum of,
127, 129; on the similarity of Lamaism
and Catholicism, 317
Gerard, Captain, information obtained by,
regarding origin of the Sutlej, 218
2 E
4i8
TRANS-HIMALAYA
Gerard, Dr., account of life and work of
Alexander Csoma by, 389
Gerik-yung, pasture-land, 241
Gods, Hindu, habitation of the old, 115
Gold-field at Tok-jalung, 5
Goring-la, pass, Littledale crosses the,
157
Goyak, the, tributary of the Sutlej, 1S4
Graham Sandberg, work on Tibet by,
230
Grassi, Father Ildel:)rand, communication
by Desideri to, 125
Grueber, Johannes, journey through Tibet,
122 ; on mountain-sickness, 123 ; route
of, 124
Gulam Razul, honorary title of Khan Baha-
dur bestowed on, 33 ; my new caravan
equipped by, 33 ; details of his caravan-
trade, 33 ; hospitality of, 34 ; com-
munication from, as to effect of rainy
season on level of Manasarowar, 233
Gunchu-tso, Captain Gerard's mistake as
to outflow of, 218
Gurla Mandatta, 189, 203, 225
Gyamboche district, camp in, 8
Gyanima, caravan from, 11
Gyekung-sherma, valley, 11
Gyengring, village of, 400
Gyesowang, river, 349
Gyuma-chu, camp on the, 178
Halde, Father du, work on China by,
132 ; statement as to Ganges source,
196 ; on Tibetan religion, 319
Haltshor-chu, the, affluent of the Sutlej,
241
Hamilton, Francis, work on Nejjal by,
137. 219
Harballabh, pundit, assertion by, as to
outflow of Manasarowar, 214, 219
Hastings, Warren, memorandum by, on
Tibet, 135
Hayden, Dr. H. H., geological work of,
162
Hearsey, Captain, 211,212
Height of passes across the Trans-Himalaya,
31 .
Hennig, Professor Anders, on geological
specimens from the Trans - Himalaya,
164
Herat, village of, 71
Herbert, Captain J. D., travels in the
Sutlej valley, 218
Herodotus, tale of gold-digging ants by,
."7
Himalayas, the, views of, 32, 414 ; early
classical names for, 117; three famous
English doctors in, 146 ; Sir Clements
Markham and Trelawney Saunders on,
153 ; importance of exploration of
northern part, 160 ; work of the Brothers
Gerard and Captain Herbert in, 218
Hindu pilgrims at Manasarowar, 179, 189
Hlagar, high feeding at, 22 ; yaks obtained
at, 23 ; station on post-road between
Tok-jalung and Gartok, 23 ; climate of,
23
Hlande-tsogsa, cairns at, 32
Hleri-kunglang, mountain, 25
Hodgson, Brian, his alleged delineation of
the Trans- Himalaya, 140 ; details of life
of, 141 ; Sir William Hunter's biography
of, 141 ; errors of, 142 ; fanciful map
by, 143
Holdich, Sir Thomas, on the rise of the
Indus and the Sutlej, 231
Home-sickness, feelings of, 76
Hooker, Sir Joseph, 147
Hor-paryang, district, 112
Horses, Tibetan, occasional flesh diet of,
16 ; method of shoeing, 16 ; author
thrown by runaway, 20 ; death of our
Bongba steed, 406 ; losses of, 413
Hot springs, 40
Hue, Father, journey to Lhasa, 143 ;
attempts to clear up mystery of Moor-
croft's death, 216; on Lamaism and
Catholicism, 319
Humboldt, Alexander von, erroneous oro-
graphical deductions of, 139, 140
Hundes, 277, 288, 334
Hunter, Sir William, biography of Brian
Hodgson by, 141
Imaus, the, Ptolemaic term applied to the
Himalayas and the Pamir, 118
Indus, the : rise of, i ; different placings of
source of, I, 210 ; watershed of, 3, 20 ;
evidence of earlier abundant precipi-
tation at source of, 21 ; upper and
lower districts of, 21 ; Tibetan names
for, 21, 23 ; watershed between the
Sutlej and, 39 ; confluence of the two
headwaters of, 44; diversity of opinion
as to actual source-stream of, 44 ; journey
down the valley of, 48 ; boundless views
up and down, 55 ; boat-voyage down,
57 ; beauty of its scenery, 58, 62 ;
measurement of, at Dungkang, 64 ; our
last camp on, 64 ; vertical character of
side-valleys of, 71 ; position of source,
153; Sir Thomas Holdich on rise of,
230
Jamtse Singe, prior of Selipuk, 85 ; visits
Sonam Ngurbu, 86 ; his distrust of the
Governor of Chokchu, 86 ; sudden
change in manner of, 94 ; visits my
tent, 95 ; prophecy of, as to missing
caravan, 96 ; good-bye to, 97
Jarko-la, pass, 241
Jekung-tso, lake, 3
Jesuits, cartographical work of the, 132 ;
the first, in Tibet, 299
INDEX
419
Johnson, Captain C, on Alexander Csoma,
386
Jukti-changma-la, or northern Jukti pass,
27
Jukti-hloma-la, or southern Jukti pass, 27 ;
author's fifth crossing of the Trans-
Himalaya at the, 30; difficulties ex-
perienced in ascertaining height of,
30
Jukti-loen-chu, brook, 27
Justus Perthes, Geographical Institute of,
141
Kailas, legend regarding ascent of, 35 ;
Hindu veneration for, 116, 190; lyrical
poem by Kalidasa on, 116, 192; the
first European to see and describe it,
126; mentioned by Strachey, 152; re-
ferred to by Lassen, 153 ; view of, from
Samo-tsangpo valley, 175 ; author's last
view of, 180 ; legendary guardians of,
191 ; sources of the Ganges and the
Indus placed by Father Desideri on,
196 ; views of Himalayan namesake of,
384, 401, 402, 403
Kalamba-la, pass, 150, 158, 159
Kalidasa, lyrical poem on Kailas by, 116,
192
Kaling-tang, heights of, 335
Kamlung, valley, 364
Kamurti, rest at, 384
Kanam, district of, 382 ; village of, 384 ;
women coolies from, 397, 399, 400
Kanam, monastery of, 385 ; cell of
European lama in, 386, 394 ; Alexander
Csoma's studies in, 389 ; monks and
nuns of, 395
Kanam -laptse, cairn of, 384
Kang Hi, Emperor, map of territories of,
executed by the Jesuits, 132 ; work of
lama topographers of, 133, 195, 220, 222
Kang-rinpoche. See Kailas
Kapp, village of, 365
Karu-sing, camp at, 340
Kawaguchi, Ekai, Japanese Buddhist
priest, journey to Manasarowar, 227 ;
confusion of, as to source of the Ganges,
228 ; on outflow of Rakas-tal, 229 ;
temptations of, 229 ; religious haze sur-
rounding work of, 230
Kiangs. See Asses, wild
Kirang, village and river of, 398
Kircher, Athanasius, notes on Grueber's
Tibetan journey by, 122, 124 ; on Father
Andrade's discoveries in Tibet, 302 ; on
Tibetan religious ceremonies, 318
Klaproth, J., translator of Chinese works,
138, 139, 143 ; criticises Walford's work,
209 ; attempt to minimise Moorcroft's
observations at Manasarowar, 220 ; on
Father Andrade's journey, 303
Kleptomaniac, a titled, 408
Koeppen, on similarities in Lamaism and
Catholicism, 329 ; on Alexander Csoma,
386
Kojang, valley, 402
Koldoktse, spring, camp at, 348
Kongkong-la, pass, 351
Kongta-la, pass, 70
Korang, village of, 356
Kotgar, hospitality shown author at, 413
Kuchner, Professor, work on Tibet by, 313
Kuyul, Gova and villagers of, 63
Kyangyang, valley and spring of, 99 ; re-
mainder of caravan joins us at, 99 ;
my models at, lOO ; details of female
costumes, loi ; kindness of ex-headman
of, 103
Kyangyang-Ia, pass, 103
Kyap, village of, 398
Kyunglung, bridge of, 247 ; fragile char-
acter of, 249 ; difiiculty in getting our
animals across, 250 ; marvellous escape
of my riding-horse at, 252 ; terror of our
dogs at crossing, 253
Kyunglung, monastery of, 248
Ladak range, watershed between the Indus
and the Sutlej, 39 ; geographical im-
portance of the, 43 ; view of the, 263
Ladakis, my faithful, 2, 73, 75, 100, 239 ;
their high spirits, 42, 69 ; fight with the
villagers of Tashi-gang, 50
Lama, a learned European, 386
Lama monks, Father Andrade on, 305
Lama Tsering, visit to, in Langbo-nan
monastery, 178
Lamaism and Catholicism : author's opinion
on similarity between, 310 ; Catholic
missionaries' admirable geographical
work in Asia, 31 1 ; Professor Kuchner
on, 313 ; Tibetan Lamaism founded by
Padma Sambhava, 314 ; Garbe on the
influence of Christianity on Lamaism,
314; bread and wine partaken of by
lama worshippers, 314 ; independent
development of the two religions, 315 ;
Gerbillon on similar ceremonies in, 315 ;
Delia Penna on, 316; Father Georgi
on, 317 ; Odorico de Pordenone's appli-
cation of the title "Pope" to the chief
abbot of Lhasa, 317 ; Kircher and
Grueber on, 318, 319 ; Father Hue
and Abbe Desgodins quoted, 319, 321 ;
Cardinal Wiseman's conclusion, 324 ;
Abel R^musat on outward resemblances,
326 : Prinsep on Tibetan church can-
ticles, 326 ; Koeppen and Rhys Davids
quoted on, 327, 328
Lamo-latse, pass, 3 ; watershed of the
Indus, 3 ; view from, 4
Lamo-latse, valley, 3
Landon, Mr. Perceval, suggestion regarding
Moorcroft's death, 216
2 E 2
420
TRANS-HIMALAYA
Landor, A. H. Savage, exaggerated state-
ments of, 227
Langak-tso, the, journey along, 179 ;
height of, 183 ; effects of variation of
precipitation on, 195, 214; Anquetil du
Perron on outflow of, 201 ; ignored by
pilgrims, 209 ; Moorcroft's statement as
to outflow of, 214 ; Strachey's conclusions
as to outlet, 221 ; Kawaguchi's absurd
statement regarding outflow, 229 ;
periods of discharge of, 234 ; sweetness
of its water, 235
Langbo-nan monastery, visit to, 178
Langchen-kabab, or source of the Sutlej,
183, 228
Langchen-kamba, 228, 274
Langles, L., on Buddhism and Christianity,
323
Langmar, arrival at, 43
Langur mountains, Grueber and Desideri
impressed by the, 123, 126
Lankpya Dhura, Himalayan pass, 152
Lapta-la, pass, 27
Largyep, village of, 362
Lassen, Christian, conceptions of the
Trans-Himalaya by, 152
Launay, Adrien, on Lamaism and Catho-
licism, 328
Lavar-tsangpo, river, 103, 107
Lazar, valley of, 32
Lazar-la, pass, 27
Ldat, valley, camp at, 341
Leeks, wild, a welcome seasoning, 181
Legend regarding ascent of Kailas, 35
Lesdain, Count de, on the Tengri-nor, 158
Lhasa, the first European to visit, 120 ;
early efforts to establish mission in, 125
Littledale, St. George, on the Tengri-nor,
157
Little Puppy. See Dogs
Lopchak, bridge of, 356 ; dangerous con-
dition of, 358 ; our critical passage over,
360
Lopchak monopoly, trade privilege, 34
Lotus- blossom, ancient Vedic conception
of Asia as a, 1 16
Luma-nakbo, camp at, 105
Luma-ngoma, 40
Luma-ringmo, freshwater ponds of, 18
Lumbo-seju, mountain, 25
Lunak, river, 257
Lundup - Chiiding - gompa, temple at
Chushul, 68
Lung-kongma, valley, 70
Lungun valley, camp in, 349
Manasarowar, "the holy lake," Nain Sing's
journey to, 148 ; Henry Strachey's jour-
ney to, 152 ; our camp by, 175 ; author's
previous visit to, 177 ; Hindu jnlgrims
at, 179, 189; meaning of the name, 189;
story in the Skanda I'urana regarding its
creation, 190; legendary love-story, 191 ;
not known until comparatively recent
times, 194 ; Mirza Haidar at, 194 ; first
clearly delineated liy D'Anville, 195 ;
effects of varying precipitation on, 195,
214 ; first described by Father Desideri,
196; reputed presence of gold-dust in
sand of, 197 ; described by Anquetil du
Perron, 200 ; confusion as to outflow and
inflow of, 202 ; Tieffenthaler's error as to
eastern outflow, 203 ; Chinese statements
more reliable than European as to, 204 ;
described by two fakirs, 205 ; countless
pilgrimages round, 206, 237 ; Purangir's
description of, 208 ; Moorcroft's journey
to, and search for outlet of, 212, 213 ;
Harballabh's positiveness as to outflow
of, 214; accuracy of Moorcroft's obser-
vations, 217 ; supposed subterranean out-
flow of, 218, 222 ; Lieutenant J. D.
Cunningham's conclusion, 221; Strachey's
discovery of outlet of, 221 ; Mr. Drum-
mond's voyage on, 223 ; Captain Smith's
astonishing statement as to outflow of,
224 ; T. W. Webber's curious view-point
of, 225 ; fanciful ideas regarding, 226 ;
Kawaguchi on outflow and circumference
of, 228 ; visit of Ryder and Rawlings to,
231 ; Charles Sherring at, 231 ; author's
measurements of affluents of, 232 ;
Gulam Razul's information as to effect
of rainy seasons on, 233 ; variation in
outflow of, 234 ; sweetness of water of,
235 ; Von Ow on, 235 ; varying beauty
and charm of, 236 ; itself a huge prayer-
mill, 237
Manchu-chen, valley expansion of, 34S
Manglard-kard, side-valley of, 409
Mangnang village, our first sight of trees
at, 280
Mangnang-gompa, monastery, 280 ; library
of, 281 ; images in, 281 ; temple-hall of,
282 ; cremation of monks in, 283
Mangnang-tsangpo, tributary of the Sutlej.
279 ; source of, 280
Matii walls, 8, 9, 60, 63
Manlung valley, camp at, 278
Manning, Thomas, meagre description of
journey of, 137
Maps, author's methodical making of
sketch-, 80 ; Jesuits' execution of,
132
Maps referred to: of D'Anville, 133, 143,
195, 209 ; Samuel Turner, 136 ; William
Moorcroft, 136, 213 ; Francis Hamilton,
137 ; Von Humboldt, 139 ; Brian Hodg-
son, 140, 142 ; Nain Sing, 140 ; Stulp-
nagel, 143; Trelawney Saunders, 154;
Gal)riel Bonvalot, 157 ; Count de
Lesdain, 158; Colonel Burrard, 160;
Francois Bernier, 194; Father Gaubil,
198; Father Tieffenthaler, 200; Major
INDEX
421
Rennell, 204; Captain Herbert, 218;
T. W. Webber, 225
Marco Polo, description of Tibet by, 119
Marium-la, pass, Strachey's opinion as to,
152
Markham, Sir Clements, on the structure
of the Himalayas, 153; on the import-
ance of exploration of the northern
Himalayas, 160, 161 ; on results of
author's journey, 162
Marques, Father Manuel, 300, 304
Marx, Rev. Mr., Moravian missionary at
Poo, 374
" Meru, the mountain of the gods," 116
Milestone, our first, sighted, 399
Milk, welcome supply of, 21, 22
Minkhul Khutukhtu, description of Tibet,
137, 219
Mir Izzet Ullah, on affinity of lamas and
Christian monks, 324
Mirza Haidar, visit to Manasarowar, 194
Misser-chu, tributary of the Sutlej, 241
Missionary efforts in Tibet, 125, 127,
304
Models, my portrait, at Kyangyang, 100 ;
at Takche, 109
Mohanlal, Hindu doctor, renewal of
acquaintance with, 296
Money, our scarcity of, 80, 97
Monks, grades of, 93, 273
Monopolies, trade, 34
Monserrate, Father Antonio de, 194
Monsoon, course of the south-west, 191
Montgomerie, Colonel, pundits sent out
by, 21, 30, 147, 149, 150, 210, 226
Moorcroft, William, journey to Manasa-
rowar, 136, 212 ; fruitless search for
outlet of lake, 214 ; brutal treatment of,
215; death of, in Bukhara, 215; his
alleged sojourn in Lhasa, 216 ; Father
Hue's attempt to clear up the mystery,
216 ; accuracy of his observations of
Manasarowar, 217, 221 ; unworthy
attempts to obscure value of his dis-
coveries, 220 ; assistance rendered to
Alexander Csoma by, 388
Morang, village of, 401
Moravian missionaries, meeting with, at
Poo, 374
Mountain-sickness, Grueber's explanation
of, 123 ; Desideri and Hue on, 127 ;
Beligatti's description of, 128
Mountains, sacred, of Asia, 116
Mouse-holes, traps for horses' feet, 108
Mugu-telep, salt-plain of, 16
Mutton, monotony of diet of, 77
Nachar, village of, 407
Na-gangkal, spring, camp at, 61
Nain Sing, journey up the Tsangpo, 140,
147, 226 ; journey from Leh to Lhasa,
150; misconceptions of, 151
Namgyal Dorche, lama of Chokclni, 86,
S9> 93
Namgya - rijing, village, camp at, 365 ;
courtesy of headman of, 365
Narkanda, village of, 413
Natang valley, 332 ; narrow escape at, 333
Neribke, brook, 351
Nesang, river, 384
Ngangiaring-tso, lake, author the first
while man to visit, 75 ; gradual con-
traction of, 99 ; watershed between the
Sutlej and the, 107
Ngari-tsangpo, the, appalling valley of,
342 ; unique bridge over, 344 ; valley of,
compared with that of the Tsangpo, 346 ;
a stupendous landslip, 347
Ngurup Dorche, our guide from Totling,
331, 366, 369, 380
Nien-chen-tang-la, Tibetan name for part
of the Trans-Himalaya, 129, 137, 142,
145. 150. 152, 153.. 155. 156; charm
apparently surrounding the summits of
the, 158 ; scarcity of information regard-
ing the, 159
Nima-lung, confluence of branches of the
Gartong, 37
Ningling Tanla, the, of Gabriel Bonvalot,
156
Nirit, amusing incident at, 412
Niru, village of, 355
Niti pass, Moorcroft's journey over the,
213
Nogri, river, 411
Nomads, first meeting with, 12 ; information
obtained from, 13, 15 ; their wanderings
and habits, 13 ; baggage animals hired
from, 15 ; importance of rain to the, 181
Norman, Lieutenant - Colonel W. W.,
author's meeting with, 404
Nyanda, routes from, 27
Nyanda-nakbo, oasis of, 26 ; wool-cara-
vans at, 26
Nyanda-nakbo-tso, lake, 8
Odorico de Pordenone, Franciscan monk,
remarkable journey of, I20; on Tibet,
121 ; title of "Pope" applied to chief
abbot of Lhasa by, 317
" Om mani padme hum," Tibetan sacred
formula, 3, 8, 43, 53, 105, 395 ; carved
in yak-skull, 10 ; Father Andrade on
meaning of, 307
Optil, bridge of, over the Ngari-tsangpo,
345
Orleans, Prince Henry of, in Bonvalot's
Tibetan expedition, 157
Ow, Baron Anton von, cited, 115 ; quoted
on Manasarowar, 235
Oyar-la, Trans-Himalayan pass, 81
Pabe-kar, valley and stream of, 406
Pachen valley, in, I77
422
TRANS-HIMALAYA
Pachung valley, 177
Padma Sambhava, Tibetan Lamaism
founded by, 314
Pagell, Rev. Mr. and Mrs., the first mis-
sionaries at Poo, 377
Palg}'e-pugu, promontory, 241
Pangi village, camp at, 402
Pangri, Gova of, endeavours to induce
author to turn back, 173
Parallelism, mountain, conspicuous in Tibet,
Parango, danger-pomt at, 384
Parka, district of, 180
Partridges, a welcome addition to our
larder, 8, 22
Pashagang, boundary between India and
Tibet, 364
Paunda, camp at, 407
Passes across the Trans- Himalaya, 27 ;
height of, 31
Pedang-tsangpo, good services of guides
from the, 100
Pele-rakpa-la, pass, 27, 42
Pema Tense, Tibetan guide, 2 ; risks run
by, in our service, 6 ; bid good-bye to,
12
Pembos, Tibetan schismatics, 242
Pera, village of, 353
Piang-la, pass, 349
Piano Carpini, ambassador from the Pope
to the Great Khan, 119
Pilgrim camps, traces of, 6
Pilgrims, Hindu, on Manasarowar, 179,
189, 206 ; vicissitudes of wandering, 240
Pill, village of, 384, 398
Polar and Tibetan exploration compared.
Police, Tibetan chief constable of, 85
Pomponius Mela, on northern boundary of
India, 117
Poo, perilous crossing of the Sutlej near,
372 ; Moravian missionaries' hospitality
at, 374 ; our dogs' discomfort at, 375 ;
monasteries of, 376 ; climate of, 376 ;
mission service in, 376 ; devoted work
of the missionaries, 377 ; children's
graves in, 377 ; Takkar's return to, 396
Pooche-la, pass, 348
Poo-gompa, monastery, 376
Pope, application of title of, by Odorico
to chief abbot of Lhasa, 317
Potao-sang, valley, 59
Poverty of our caravan, 80, 97
Prayer-mills, 339, 411
Precipitation, effect of variations of, 195,
233. 288
Presents, caution necessary in regard to, in
the East, 413
Prinsep, Henry T., book on Tibet, 326
Ptolemy, geographical system of, 1 18
Pude, village of, 355
I'uge, pass and village of, 353
Puktse, Tibetan escort leave at, 62
Pul-tso, salt lake, 18
Pundam, village of, 402
Pundi, mountain, legend as to snow-patch
on, 36 ; view of, from the Panglung
valley, iii
Purangir, Brahmin interpreter, description
of Manasarowar, 208
Puri-gompa, monastery, 363
Rabgyeling-gompa, monastery, 337 ; prayer-
cylinders of, 339
Rain, author's correct prophecy of, 91 ;
importance of, to the nomads, 181
Rakas-tal. See Langak-tso
Ramni-kar, valley of, 405
Rampur, village of, 409 ; state entertain-
ment to author at, 410 ; palace of the
Raja of Beshahr in, 410 ; huge prayer-
cylinder at, 411 ; state farewell at,
411
Rangri, side-valley of, 401
Raper, Captain, 211, 212
Rarang, village of, 401
Rarefaction, effect of, on European, 330
Rartse, plain of, 98 ; a welcome meeting
at, 98
Rawling, Captain C. G. , 140, 148, 368;
theory of, as to source of the Sutlej,
231
Rawlinson, Sir Henry, view of, as to
travelling in Tibet, 149
Reclus, Elisee, suggestion as to the name
Trans-Himalaya, 155
Regis, Father, 201, 316, 319
Remusat, Abel, 323, 326
Rennell, Major, quoted, 134; details of
map of, 204
Rhys Davids, Dr. T. W. , on outward
resemblances of Lamaism to Catholicism,
329
Riberang, village of, 401
Richthofen, Professor, erroneous delinea-
tion of mountains by, 154; conclusions
as to Tibetan mountain system, 155
Rickshaw, welcome ride in, 413
Rigong-la, pass, 112
Rildigyok, valley, 340
Rio Porgyal, mountain, 363
Risba, village of, 401
Ritter, Karl, untrustworthy geographical
views of, 1 38, 140 ; defence of Moor-
croft's work, 220
Robbers, nomads attacked by, 26
Robert, Alexander, author's Eurasian at-
tendant, 37, 57
Rock specimens secured, 4, 163
Rockhill, W. W. , translator of Rubruquis'
work, 313 ; on Alexander Csoma, 387
Rodenberg, Julius, 313
Rogi village, camp at, 403
Rokti-chu, side-valley of, 361
INDEX
423
Rongtotka-la, pass, magnificence of view
from, 355
Roth, Father Henrik, 302
Rubruquis, William de, Franciscan monk
and traveller, on Tibetan cannibalistic
habits, 119; Rockhill's translation of
work by, 313
Ryder, Major, description of journey up
the Tsangpo, 158; visit to Manasaro-
war, 231
Saint-Martin, attempt of, to disparage
Moorcroft's observations at Manasarowar,
220
" St. Sow," shrine of, at Tirtapuri, 187
Salma, village of, 66
Salt, sheep-caravans of, 5, 23, 137, 177 ;
ratio of value of, to that of barley, 183 ;
Government duty on, 183
Salutation, Tibetan form of, 14
Salve-chu, brook, 362
Samo-tsangpo, river, 112, 173
Samtang Rangdol, lama guide from
Tirtapuri, 240 ; communicativeness of,
243 ; part with, at Kyung-lung, 254
Samye Karmo, our guide from Kyung-
lung, 254 ; his opinion of the Dalai
Lama, 257 ; artful ruse of, 258
Sang-serpo, valley, 258
Sara, camp at, 70
Sarahan, village, author visited by the
Raja of Beshahr at, 408
Sariyol, spring of, 20
Sarju or Gogra, river, 201, 203
Sasser, valley, 348
Saunders, Trelawney, on seclusion of
Tibet, 153 ; geographical errors of, 154
Schlagintweit, the Brothers, theories as to
the mountain formation of Central Asia,
152 ; Himalayan journeys of, 224
Schnabel, Rev. Mr., Moravian missionary
at Poo, 374
Scriptures, the Tibetan, 281, 385, 389
Selipuk, monastery, curious appearance of,
77 ; Kunchuk's interview with prior
of, 80 ; affability of superior of, 87 ;
author's visit to, 93 ; resources of, 93 ;
hall of Buddha in, 94 ; age of, 95
Selipuk, village, difficulties in obtaining
transport animals at, 79 ; geographical
details obtained at, 80 ; Gova of, agrees
to assist, 90 ; earthquake shocks at, 90 ;
author's prophecy of rain comes true,
91 ; offers of assistance retracted, 94
Sertsoki-la, pass, 24
Sha, river, 381 ; crossing of, by cable, 3S2
Sha-lungpo, camp in side-valley of, 380
Shang valley, journey up the, by one of
Montgomerie's pundits, 150
Shangdse, valley and village of, 336
Shangdse-gompa, monastery, 336
Shantse-gong, cairns at, 3
Sheep, profits derived from, 5 ; as carriers
of salt and barley, 5, 9, 69, 70, 137, 177,
183 ; nomads' rearing of, 13 ; attempts
to capture wild, 59
Sherring, Mr. Charles, at Manasarowar,
Shibe-chu, the, camp on, 257
Shinkar, valley, 39
Shipki village, camp at, 362
Shipki-la, pass, 261 ; toilsome ascent of,
364
Shoeing horses, Tibetan method of, 16
Shyok, the, affluent of the Indus, 70
Sickness, mountain-, explanations of, 123,
127, 128
Sigu-ragling-la, pass, 17
Simla, arrival at, 414
Singi-kabab, or source of the Indus, 21
Singi-kamba, the, volume and velocity of,
23, 28 ; junction with the Gartong, 44,
46 ; its volume and velocity measured,
45 ; drift-ice in, 46
Singi-tsangpo, Tibetan name for the Indus,
21, 28
Singmet, or lower Indus district, 21
Singtod, or upper Indus district, 21
Skulls, human, widespread use of, in
temples, 119
Smith, Captain H. R., amazing statements
by, regarding outflow of the lakes, 224
Soldam, valleys of, 407
Somersault, author's involuntary, 20
Sonam Ngurbu, Governor of Chokchu,
embassy to, 80 ; formal visit paid by,
81 ; unsuccessful attempts at barter with,
82 ; author's return visit and palaver with,
83 ; strength of retinue, 84 ; ability in
suppressing crime, 84 ; recalls having
seen author in Shigatse the previous
year, 85 ; his distrust of the prior of
Selipuk, 86 ; entertains author to dinner,
87 ; matrimonial affairs of, 89 ; farewell
visit and presents from, 91 ; departure of,
92 ; further good offices of, 108 ; change
of temper in, 172
Songs, our Ladakis', 17, 69, 102, 275
Soravar Sing, warrior chief, 70
Souciet, Father, 198
Springs, hot, 40
Stones, mysterious memorial, 19
Strabo, on mountain-regions north of India,
117
Strachey, Henry, journey to Manasarowar,
152, 221 ; on outlet of Rakas-tal, 221 ;
discovery of overflow of Manasarowar,
221
Strachey, Richard, visit to Manasarowar,
222
Strahlenberg, Swedish exile in Siberia,
geographical work of, 149, 199
Stulpnagel, map of India and Tibet by,
143
424
TRANS-HIMALAYA
Sumbu-tar, valley, 348
Sumdang-tsangpo, river, 75 ; camp on, 78 ;
treacherous bottom of, 98
Sumna, "meeting of three valleys," 383
Sumur-gompa, monastery, 341
Surnge-chu, brook, 107
Surnge-la, pass, deceptive appearance of,
no
Sutlej, the : watershed between the Indus
and, 39 ; grandeur of valley of, 73, 347,
363; watershed between the Nganglaring-
tso and, 107 ; position of source, 153 ;
dried-up bed of, 180 ; effect of rain on,
182 ; apparent sources of, at Dolchu,
183 ; Chukta affluent, 184 ; erosion ter-
races, 184, 245 ; Goyak tributary, 184 ;
Tokbo-shar and Tokbo-nub tributaries,
1S5, 186 ; the Tage-tsangpo the source
of, 195, 210, 212, 218, 235 ; periodical
interruptions of course of, 195; Anquetil
du Perron on origin of, 200 ; Lieutenant
Webb quoted on, 211 ; J. B. Fraser on
rise of, 217 ; Captain J. D. Herbert in
valley of, 218 ; disputed priority of dis-
covery of source, 219; lama topographers'
pioneer work, 220 ; Holdich's placing of
source of, 231 ; Rawling's theory as to
rise of, 231 ; Burrard on system of, 231 ;
importance of, among Tibetan rivers,
238 ; Misser-chu tributary, 241 ; Haltshor-
chu affluent, 241 ; its resemblance to the
Colorado, 243, 264 ; perilous passage of,
245 ; its tremendous velocity and depth,
247 ; troublesome side-valleys of, 243,
256, 262 ; Yungu-tsangpo tributary, 261 ;
characteristic formation of valley, 264 ;
inaccessibility of reaches of, 276 ; Mang-
nang-tsangpo tributary, 279; effect of
climatic changes on, 288 ; regular seasonal
rise and fall of, 334 ; precarious crossing
of, near Poo, 369 ; change in its name
after crossing the Tibetan frontier, 404 ;
farewell to, at Tanadar, 412 ; recollec-
tions of, 414
Tage-tsangpo, the, source of the Sutlej,
195, 202, 210, 212, 218, 235
Takche, Sonam Ngurbu's good offices at,
108 ; crowd of portrait models at,
109
Takkar. See Dogs
Tama-yaghgang, oasis of, 66
Tangmet, village of, 352
Tankse village, return to, 72
Taranda, village of, 408
Tashi-gang, monastery, view of, 48, 54 ;
admission at first refused, 49 ; descrip-
tion of interior, 52 ; principal god of, 52,
54 ; title of head lama, 53 ; resources of,
53 ; gradual decay of buildings, 54 ;
present of money to the monks, 55 ;
musings on monastic life, 55
Indian Government
85, 233, 296; guide
Tashi-gang, village, camp at, 48 ; fight
between the villagers and our Ladakis,
5°.
Tashi Lama, the, propitious influence of,
Task, completion of author's, 112
Tavuk, valley, 60
Tea, Tibetans' extraordinary consumption
of, 88 ; mixture of butter with, 88 ; yak-
caravan of, 254
Temperature, extreme range of, 17, 77 ;
low records of, 42, 44, 103, 349 ; de-
lightful change of, 354
Tengri-nor, "the heavenly lake," 150, 156,
157. 158
Terruk, valley, 24
Terruki-la, pass, 24
Thakur Jai Chand,
Agent in Gartok,
sent us by, 331
Theog, village of, 413
Thermometer, boiling-point, difficulty with,
30
Thunberg, Carl Peter, 322
Tibet, first report regarding, to reach
Europe, 118 ; alleged cannibalism of in-
habitants in Middle Ages, 119; Marco
Polo's description of, 119; Odorico de
Pordenone on, 120; Grueber and Dor-
ville's journey through, 122 ; missionary
efforts in, 125, 127 ; Desideri's travels
in, 125 ; early map of, 133 ; D'Anville's
map of, 133 ; Warren Hastings on, 135 ;
Thomas Manning's journey, 136 ; Mink-
hul Khutukhtu's description, 137 ; Ritter
and Humboldt on orographical structure
of, 138; condition of map of, previous
to author's journey, 140 ; Fathers Hue
and Gabet in, 144 ; Nain Sing's journeys
in, 147, 150; Henry Strachey on, 151 ;
the brothers Schlagintweit's views, 152 ;
Saunders on seclusion of, 153 ; Atkin-
son on mountain system of, 154 ; Richt-
hofen's conclusions as to mountains of,
155 ; Bonvalot and Prince Henry of
Orleans' journey, 156 ; author's good
fortune in crossing, 169; difficult to
leave as well as to enter, 171 ; Father
Tieffenthaler on, 199 ; Landor's romanc-
ing statements regarding, 227 ; Father
Antonio de Andrade's journey in, 300 ;
author's farewell to, at Pashagang,
364
Tibetan language, author's lessons in the,
76 ; Alexander Csoma's researches into
literature of the, 389
Tidang valley, waterfall in, 366
Tieffenthaler, Father Joseph, travels of,
199 ; maps of, 200 ; Bonin's comparison
of map of, with that of author, 203
Tiessen, Dr. Ernest, Richthofen's work
published by, 155
INDEX
425
Tirtapuri, monastery of, 187 ; pious frauds
at, 187 ; monastic life in, 188 ; author's
caravan reduced at, 239
Tobacco, substitute for, 265
Tokbo-nub, the, crossing of, 186
Tokbo-shar, the, difficult fording of, 185
Tokchen, arrival at, 112; difficulties en-
countered at, 167 ; interview with Gova
of, 167 ; inducements offered author
to turn back at, 171, 173; purchase of
woollen garments for our men at, 172 ;
heated discussions in, 173; fruitless
negotiations, 174; our departure from,
175
Tokchen-chu, river, 349
Tok-jalung goldfield, 5
Tomba-chu, valley of the, 382
Tomlang-tsangpo, the, 352
Tongue, protrusion of, Tibetan form of
salutation, 14
Totling-gompa, monastery-town of, 289 ;
our cool reception at, 290 ; filthiness of
monks of, 291 ; interview with the
Changtso, or monastery superintendent,
293 ; arrival of Mohanlal from Gartok
at, 296 ; Father Andrade's description
of temple-festival in, 306 ; bridge of,
332
Tovaling, village of, 366
Trade, caravan-, details of, 33
Trans-Himalaya, the : fourth crossing of,
I ; view of, from Dotsa-la pass, 24 ;
passes across, 27, 81 ; interception of
moisture by, 28 ; geographical import-
ance of, 43 ; permission obtained to
cross, 73; eighth crossing of, 79, no;
proved to be a single, connected system,
113; the home of the old Hindu gods,
115 ; delineation of, a fascinating task,
122 ; startling statement regarding its
discovery, 140 ; fanciful map-drawings,
143 ; Sir Joseph Hooker's glimpse of,
146 ; the name first introduced by Sir
Alexander Cunningham, 147 ; central
ranges of, 148 ; misconception as to
nature of travelling in, 149 ; long silence
regarding, 151 ; Christian Lassen's con-
ceptions as to, 153; Reclus' suggestion
regarding name, 155 ; an imaginar}'
range, 156; definite object of author's
journey in, 161 ; geological specimens
secured, 163
Trees, our first sight of, at Mangnang,
280
Trotter, Captain, Nain Sing sent out by,
150
Tsake-la, pass, view of, 64 ; arrival at, 67
Tsak-tsaka, salt lake, 23
Tsalam-ngopta-la, pass, 7
Tsaldot, valley from Ladak range, 242
Tsaldot-la, pass, view from, 242
Tsanglangma-kesa, side-valley of, 348
Tsangpo, journey by Nain Sing up valley
of the, 140, 147 ; by Captain Rawling's
party, 140, 148, 158; by author, 148;
Anquetil du Perron on source of river
201
Tsaparang, village of, 297 ; Father An-
drade at, 304 ; Schlagintweit at, 305
Tsar, village of, 355
Tsarak-tatang, side-valley of, 384
Tsenmo, hill, 60
Tso-kar, lake, 18
Tso-longcho, salt lakes, 17
Tso-mavang. See Manasarowar
Tsong Kapa, deceased Tibetan saint, 272,
281 ' '
Tsumtul-gompa, monastery, 180
Tugden Nima, superior of Daba-gompa,
Tugu-gompa, monastery, 203
Tundup Lama, renewal of acquaintance
with, at Chiu-gompa, 179
Tungnang-la, pass, 382
Turner, Samuel, mission of, 135
Unknown country, author's journey across,
103 ; areas of, still left for future ex-
plorers, 107
Urni bungalow, charming situation of,
404
Valleys, troublesome side-, of the Sutlej,
243, 256
Van de Putte, Samuel, Dutch traveller,
journey of, 130
Vasilief, Professor, Mongolian description
of Tibet published by, 137
Voltaire, quoted on the Dalai Lama, 323
Wang-tu, bridge of, 406
Weather, Tibetan, sequence of, in
Webb, Lieutenant, expedition to source of
the Ganges under, 211
Webber, Thomas W. , hopeless geographical
inaccuracies of, 225
Wessels, C, on Buddhism and Catholicism,
299 ; on Father Andrade's journey
through Tibet, 300, 302
Wilford, Captain F., statements regarding
Manasarowar by, 209 ; criticised by
Klaproth, 209
Wilson, Professor H. H., translation of
The Cloud- Messenger by, 192 ; on
Lamaism and Christianity, 324
Wind, persistency of, 6
Winter, duration of, in Tibet, 2
Wire-rope, transportation of caravan by,
across the Sutlej, 369 ; across the Sha,
Wiseman, Cardinal, on religious analogies
in Lamaism, 324
Wolves, caravan animals stampeded by,
21 ; driven off by our men, 42, 108 ;
426
TRANS-HIMALAYA
fees paid by nomads for slaughter of,
77 ; Takkar sups off a cub, 77
Women-coolies, our, 397, 399, 400
Wool, trade in, 5, 14, 26
Yaks, invisible grazing for, 22 ; ferocity of
wild, 29 ; objection to cross bridges, 71
Yakshas, the, mythological guardians of
Kailas, 191
Yayur, 363
Yer, village of, 353 ; Takkar's adventure
^t, 353
Yigde, chief god of Tashi-gang monastery,
52, 54
Younghusband, Colonel Sir Francis, 71
Yubgo-la, pass, 1 1 1
Yula-garang, valley and river of, 404
Yumba-matsen, nomads from, 12 ; de-
tails of live-stock owned by community,
13
Yungu - tsangpo, tributary of the Sutlej,
261
Zaskar range, view of, 261, 263
THE END
Printed hy R. & R. Clark, Limitkd, Edinburgh.
By SVEN HEDIN
TRANS-HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES IN TIBET
Vols. I. and II.
With 388 Illustrations and 10 Maps. Bvo. 30s. net.
EVENING STANDARD.—'' The great Swede has given his readers a
rare treat. ... A record of such perilous journeying and undaunted experi-
ments as the world has rarely witnessed."
Sir Thomas Holdich in the WORLD. — " For all lovers of a good story
of genuine travel and adventure it will be a most delightful book to read, and
the fact that it deals with the hitherto untrodden region of India's great northern
water-parting will render it doubly interesting."
WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.—'' It is certainly a wonderful story that
Dr. Hedin has to tell, and few journeys have called for more resource and
courage. ... A work of great value from a geographical point of view, and
one which to the ordinary reader is full of interest."
TIMES. — "The reader who is in search of an exciting story, and whose
interest in the geography of Tibet is feeble, need not fear that Dr. Hedin has
overburdened his pages with geographical detail. . . . From the general
reader's point of view this is probably the most interesting of all Sven Hedin's
books. It is often diffuse, but never dull. It abounds in human interest ;
indeed that is the main feature of the book."
FIELD. — " The great interest of the book lies in its genuine and unaffected
humanity ; it is no mere record of travel, of peaks surmounted, of sufferings
endured, of dangers escaped, but from the first page to the last Dr. Hedin
holds the reader in thrall, and makes him a travelling companion and friend.
... In a word, Tfans-Hitnalaya is altogether admirable, and we predict for
it an immense and well-deserved success."
SATURDAY REVIEW. — "The two attractive volumes in which Dr
Hedin narrates the story of his last great journey differ from all his previous
books on those regions in their greater humanity and living interest. Illustrated
with a wealth of photographs and several sketches by the author, some of
which are in colours, this book also brings out clearly the feature of Tibetan
travel that has aptly been compared to a daring campaign."
TRUTH. — " No book since Stanley's African volumes has approached in
interest Trans- Himalaya, and, indeed. Dr. Sven Hedin is in one respect a
much more sympathetic adventurer than Stanley, since he owed his astonish-
ing success as much to his consummate tact as to his supreme audacity."
DAILY NEWS. — "No person who feels the fascination of strange
countries and unexplored places can read this book without delight."
LONDON : MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
By SVEN HEDIN
OVERLAND TO INDIA
With 308 Illustrations and 2 Maps.
2 vols. 8vo. 30s. net.
TIMES. — "The narrative abounds in entertainment, and with his dramatic
faculty, his genuine sympathy with all sorts and conditions of men, his happy
gift of humour, and his trained observation, Dr. Hedin gives us a welcome and
impressive picture of the present condition of things in a country teeming with
racial hatreds and rehgious animosities."
EVENING STANDARD. — " The chronicle of these wanderings, com-
piled by a most skilled observer, gifted with an inexhaustible appetite for hard
work, with a graphic touch in narration, and an artist's skill and delicacy in
using the pencil, constitutes a magnificent addition to the library of travel as
well as to the record of patient endurance of hardships."
SATURDAY REVIEW. — "Dr. Hedin's book teems with a variety of
interesting topics. Of his photographs it is impossible to speak too highly."
FROM POLE TO POLE
A BOOK FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
With 40 Illustrations and 26 Maps.
Extra Crown Svo. 7s. 6d. net.
TIMES. — " It is a rich treasure-house of information about everything of
interest in different parts of the world, including full accounts of other travellers
and explorers, from Robinson Crusoe to Livingstone and Stanley, and for the
most part it has the first-hand touch of the real traveller."
GLOBE. — " No better book of travel could be recommended as a boy's
gift, not only for its scope, but for its general excellence."
DAIL V CHRONICLE. — " It is one of the finest boy's books of the year,
and mind you, it is not a mere story, it is all true."
ATHENAEUM. — "Should have a strong appeal for every boy with a
taste for travel and adventure."
LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
Date Due
.^ X 1
E 1964
OEC 1
L 5 1964
JUM
M i« 1
7 1970
JU(V i 3
b/y^
OCR J
IPP 1 T
I\OD 1
34
Hrti -I
^ rdw
.
'
Library Bureau Cat. No. 1137 '
A A 001 430 884
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