Until very recently the Pamir was considered one of the most inaccessible places in Asia; but the Transcaspian Railway, opened in May, 1888, from the Caspian to Samarkand, has completely altered this state of affairs, though the Russian Government looks with disfavour on English travellers wishing to use the line so cheaply and expeditiously constructed for purely military and strategical purposes.
Had it not been for the untiring efforts of Sir Robert Morier, our Ambassador at St. Petersburg, continued for several months, I should never have allayed the natural suspicions of the Russian officials in the Asiatic and War Department, and obtained the necessary permission to travel by that route. I entirely owe the success of our expedition to his efforts, and I can never sufficiently thank him for the trouble taken.
But had I known as much about Russian Central Asia before as I do now, I should not have waited for the railway, but have crossed the steppes to Khokand, and thence south to the Pamir, years ago. There are three routes by which it is possible to reach the Pamir: the first from Ladak over the Kara Korum to Shahdula, and then west, either from Yarkand or from a point before you reach that city. For this route a passport would be necessary from the Chinese Government, which, though much easier to obtain now than it was formerly, is still by no means easy to get, nor, having got it, is there any certainty that there would not be obstacles thrown in the path of anyone wishing to visit the Pamir from the Chinese side.
The second is the Gilgit, Yassim, Chitral, and Badakshan route, but the political difficulties at present put this out of the question.
The third is by the Transcaspian Railway.
I have made two visits to the Pamir, the first in 1888, the second in 1890, and Mrs. Littledale accompanied me upon both occasions. In 1888 I did not know anything about the country or the chances of sport, beyond the mere fact that the Pamir was the habitat of the Poli sheep; but as to which particular district I ought to visit, or what special outfit I ought to take with me, I could obtain no information either in England or Russia. However, I had the good fortune to meet the Rev. Dr. H. Lansdell, who gave me valuable advice as to the route to Khokand.
From the Russian officials we received the greatest civility on all sides; whatever antagonism there may be between the two countries politically, it begins and ends with politics; for socially at the present day there is no nation more popular in Russia than the English, nor do I know any country wherein a man, furnished with proper letters of introduction, will be made to feel more at home than in Russia.
Saturday, August 5, 1888, found Mrs. Littledale and myself camped in a valley, flat as a billiard-table, about two miles wide, which was one vast river-bed of soft shingle, cut up into countless channels, which varied day by day, almost minute by minute, one or two hours of sunshine bringing down a flood like a mill race, which cut new channels and left old ones dry, making that which was a difficult ford in the morning almost dry by night, and moving the main stream maybe half a mile away.
The place was an idyll of desolation; not a shrub, nor a bird, nor a living soul in sight, while the few blades of grass, here and there apparent among the débris fallen from the cliffs above, had a half-hearted air, as if they knew that they were out of place. The mountains on either side were forbidding to a degree. Down their rugged sides dashed torrents from the glaciers above. The head of the valley was blocked by some grand snowpeaks, which reared their proud summits to a height of 20,000 ft. and more. There they stood (and stand) unnamed, unmeasured, and unknown, waiting for some one to conquer their virgin snows.
It had been no easy task to persuade our Kara Kirghiz hunters to come to this place at all. They asked why I wanted to go? They said that there was no grass there, that the horses would die of starvation; and did I think that the ‘Gulcha’ (the Kirghiz name for Poli rams) would stay in a place where there was nothing to eat! For generations their fathers had been hunters, and did I, a stranger, know better than they?