CHAPTER XIX
And now for the descent. I was quite numbed with cold—you see, a thin shirt only is not much protection against snow being driven into you with such force, and even when I put on my coat again my teeth were chattering so that I thought they would break. Well, I suppose that if I had been more muffled up and wearing heavy clothing I should have never got up there. My legs and hands had nearly lost all feeling in them.
I loaded my rifle and all my instruments on my back, also my straw hat which it was impossible to wear in the right place, bade Tibet a hearty “good-bye,” and down I strode, with somewhat disjointed steps, by the way I had come. The descent was rapid—a great deal too rapid—but partly to get away from the intense cold, and the wind and the snow, partly owing to the anxiety which I still felt regarding the safety of my two men I had left behind, [[208]]I really did not try to control my speed. When I got among the loose rocks again, which started a regular landslide at each step one took, I came very near having an accident which might have had disastrous consequences. A stone rolled under my foot—they nearly all did—and in slipping I got my right foot badly jammed between two large stones. Before I had time to get it off again, several big stones came rolling with great force from above, and one hit me so violently in the leg, and on falling upon the other rocks squeezed my ankle with such pressure that I really thought my leg had been fractured. Fortunately it was not.
The pain was excruciating, my feet being still half-frozen, and I sat down, rubbing the one foot to restore some life to it, but it swelled considerably and hung like dead, which caused me some little apprehension. Violent friction with snow I tried next, and this seemed to bring some warmth and circulation, but the pain was intense. One fact was certain, that it was getting late in the afternoon, and that the Nui Pass was not the kind of place where I should care to be benighted, so down I struggled, limping badly, and suffering agony every time the foot got jammed again, which was at an average about every minute.
Observations for Altitude taken under Difficulties on the Nui Pass, Darma
[[209]]
Thank heavens! I then got to the snow incline, where I could practise some tobogganing, which saved much time and labour, and down I slid, carefully regulating my speed upon the snow with my good leg. You see, if one had gone too fast one might have been shot into one of the big crevasses of the Nui Glacier down below, and that I particularly wished to avoid.
Partly through the strain of carrying up such a heavy load, partly through the very little sleep I had obtained of late, partly owing to the great glare of the immense white mountains before me during the day, and also in a measure to the biting wind and snow—not to speak of the pain I was undergoing—the vision of the only good eye I possessed became affected and caused me additional trouble. At moments my sight became obscured altogether.
There is no doubt that it is well worth going up any high mountain for the sake of the relief and satisfaction one experiences on coming down again, and on no occasion did I feel this more strongly than upon that day. When I got down to the glacier again—which spreads from east to west—I felt much better, and although still quite lame could proceed at a fair pace. [[210]]
I hastened down to rejoin my two men, for the evening was drawing in. I took special care not to fall into another snare—as surely the Tibetans might attempt some of their games again—but nothing happened. Nothing ever does when you are on your guard.
It was getting dark when I arrived at the spot where my two followers had remained, and I shouted myself hoarse, but got no reply. I looked for them in several places where they might possibly be, but I could find no signs of them. Again I shouted and shouted, but no reply. Had they been murdered or had they gone away? This was particularly tantalising, because not only did I feel for their loss, but I also wanted badly to get rid of the load I was carrying.
By a mere chance, possibly suggested by my close observation of Shoka ways, I thought that, before departing to rejoin the main portion of my expedition, I would inspect some huge boulders some way off, behind which the men in their long hours of waiting might possibly have taken shelter. Had they been there, with the howling wind they could not possibly hear my voice. In fact, under the largest boulder, where the melting snow had formed a hollow, I discovered [[211]]my two Shokas wrapped up, head and all, in their blankets, and snoring hard. They had given me up for lost—although the idea did not disturb their sleep—and were waiting till the next morning to proceed up the glacier to look for me.
The four Tibetans had tried to approach them, pretending friendship, but they wisely had driven them away with stones. Then, for safety, they had at sunset removed their quarters to a more secluded spot. The distance from this spot to the Nui Pass and back was six miles.
The storm was still very bad, snow was again falling plentifully, and we decided that our best plan was to make a night march—long as it would be—and try to rejoin the others. Relieved of the weight of rifles and all, I was able to get along pretty well, except that after we had gone a couple of miles it got pitch dark, and we stumbled against everything and got terribly jerked. It snowed hard, and the wind blew in all its fury. We eventually came upon the faint trail, now white with snow, but on this it was considerably easier to proceed. We travelled now on long stretches of flat country, then upon an undulating, even hilly, portion of the valley, occasionally resting for breath under the lee of some big rock, and drawing [[212]]freely on my supply of chocolate, which one of my men carried.
Towards midnight we reached an open space—one of the camping-grounds—called Bedang, where the Tibetans have erected three extensive mani or sacred walls, one with a number of images. We got on the lee side of it, and, taking bundles of matches, lighted them up to inspect the long row of coloured Buddhas forming a cornice to the upper part of the wall. There were dozens of these images, evidently all made in the same mould, and painted in combinations of yellow, red, and blue. Then there were large stones with the usual sacred inscription, and flying prayers wherever they could be hung.
We Came Upon a Shrine of Curious Buddha Images
Half-way between Bedang and the Nui camping-ground we had come across a number of chirams (pyramids, often tombs) and chokdens.
By the time we had reached this sacred spot we were pretty well tired out and hungry, but we had not sufficient blankets to go round nor food enough to make us feel really happy again. We rested a while, and before our limbs got numbed with cold we again started off on our dreary march to rejoin the main body of my party. As we got lower down we came in for a violent shower of hail—the [[213]]pellets being of such a size that they thumped rather too vigorously on our skulls—then torrents of rain. We were simply soaked. It cleared for a few moments, and the moon shone for some seconds between two ugly black clouds—almost, it seemed, only to laugh at us. Indeed, a moment later another downpour froze us to the marrow of our bones, and it was all we could do to proceed at all.
There was, fortunately, a narrow trail here, which we followed, and which frequently overhung precipices of great height. In several places the trail was actually resting on crowbars thrust into the face of the cliff. We stumbled along, but we were all so tired out that we really cared little what happened to us. The hours seemed interminable.
At 3.30 A.M. we at last approached Go village. All the houses were shut up, everything was as still as death, until we got quite close. Then dogs barked furiously from every house, and the noise was echoed from mountain to mountain. The weather had somewhat cleared, but nowhere could I discern my tents. We shouted and yelled to rouse the head village man, and eventually the scared figure of a Shoka appeared, lighted by a red [[214]]blaze from a torch he carried in his hand. He was jovial, and most anxious to be of assistance.
Although not absolutely, I am, practically, a teetotaller, as I seldom require stimulants, but on that particular occasion I would have given all the money I possessed to have a glass—or, better, a bottle—of stout! But, alas! the nearest bottle of stout was a great many days’ journey from there. Chökti, the native liquor, was the only stuff procurable, and I more than jumped at the offer when the chieftain suggested that we must drink some to be revived.
Now, there is nothing a Shoka admires more in a foreigner than appreciation of the national chökti—an appreciation they seldom get, for chökti is, indeed, the vilest concoction a human mind can conceive or a human throat swallow.
When the Shoka and his torch disappeared we listened from the door with ever-increasing attention to noises of dangling keys being tried, one after the other, into a lock. Then came the snapping sound of the opening padlock, next the loosing of the iron chain which is ever used in bolting Shoka doors. Reproachful noises from the household, interrupted in their sleep, and remonstrative cries of female relatives, could be heard at intervals; [[215]]then a long silence, some rattling about, and at last the chieftain reappeared, triumphantly nursing a huge jug of the “reviver.”
“Will you drink it here or down in your tent?” he inquired, with a twinkle in his eye.
“In the tent,” I replied; and we all went down to where my camp had been pitched. My men sprang out from all sides on hearing my voice, especially several of them who, not expecting me back that night, had thought fit to occupy my tent.
In a few moments the camp was alight with several blazing fires, there being plenty of fuel at this place, and from the village a string of figures with torches were running down, bringing food, more fuel, milk, and vegetables. The natives of Go were indeed most thoughtful and polite.
I had marched continuously for twenty-two and a half hours, covering over forty miles, the entire time over most difficult ground and at such great elevation that when I sat down upon my blankets I felt quite exhausted. Nor did devouring—the word eating is hardly expressive enough—several pounds of rice and meat and potatoes and plum-pudding [[216]]and milk and chökti make me feel any better. My appetite was insatiable, and no sooner was my head laid on the pillow than I was fast asleep. Oh, what a lovely sensation to go to sleep when you are so tired! [[217]]