A curtain was hanging in front of the high altar, and one tanka, about sixpence, was the fee for the privilege of looking at the relic behind it. I paid the fee and found that the relic was nothing else than the image engraved on stone of that abominable Lobon. Tradition says that Lobon’s image was naturally inscribed on the rock when he came here and stood before it, and this fantastic story is fully believed in by the simple-minded folk of Tibet. They would not dare to look straight at the image, for fear that their eyes might become blind. I had no such superstition to deter me, and so I gazed with careful scrutiny at the engraved image, and convinced myself that some crafty priests must have drawn on a piece of rock a picture of some priest and that the picture must have been afterwards tricked out with suitable pigments. The engraving too was a clumsy piece of workmanship destitute of any merit whatever, and without even the slightest technical charm, such as might persuade the credulous to regard the image as a natural impression on a rock.
I felt sorry for the sake of the Tibetan religion that such wicked impositions should be suffered to prevail, though the Tibetan priests may on their part reply that Japan is not much better in this respect than Tibet, and that such frauds are not unknown in Japan.
Of whatever impious deeds the Lamas may be guilty, the whole neighborhood was such as to inspire one with chaste thoughts and holy ideas. This seems to be widely accepted in Tibet, for the Tibetans have a saying to this effect: “Not to visit Reta-puri is not to visit the snow-capped Kang Rinpoche; not to go around Lake Kholgyal is not to perform the sacred circuit around Lake Mapham-yumtso.”
This saying means that the visit to Kang Rinpoche only completes one-half of the holy journey unless Reta-puri is visited at the same time, and that the visit to Lake Mapham-yumtso (Mānasarovara) will avail nothing unless Kholgyal is visited at the same time.
The place indeed deserves this high honor, and undoubtedly it constitutes one of nature’s best essays in landscape. Let me describe here a little of this enchanting sight. First there was the river Langchen Khanbab, flowing towards the west, with the opposite bank steep and precipitous, and with rocks piled up here and there, some yellow, some crimson, others blue, still others green, and some others purple. The chequered coloring was beautiful, and looked like a rainbow or a tinted fog, if such a thing could exist. It was a splendid sight. And the rocks were highly fantastic, for some were sharp and angular, and others protruded over the river. The nearer bank was equally abrupt and was full of queerly shaped rocks, and each of those rocks bore a name given to it by the priests of the temple. There was a rock which was known by the name of the “Devil Surrender Rock;” another was called the “Twin Images of the saintly Prince and his Lady;” a third bore the name of “Tise Rock;” a fourth “Goddess of Mercy Rock;” and a fifth “Kāṣyapa Buḍḍha Tower.” All these rocks were objects of veneration to the common people.
I should have been deeply impressed by this unique grandeur of nature, had it not been that I was scandalised by the sight of the misguided veneration, if not worse, paid to the memory of Lobon Rinpoche. As it was, even the kind explanations of my cicerone jarred on my ears.
About two hundred and fifty yards down the bank, from a cavern known as the Divine Grotto, several hot springs were gushing out from between the rocks. Three of them were rather large, while the other three were smaller. The water of all the springs was warm, indeed some was so hot that I could hardly dip the tip of my finger into it. The temperature of that particular spring must have far exceeded 100° Fahrenheit. The water of the springs was quite transparent, and all about them there were many hard incrustations, some white, others red, still others green or blue. The visitors to the place are said to carry away pieces of this incrustation, which are believed to possess a high medicinal value, and so they must have, if properly used.
After having visited all the places of interest, I returned to my quarters and passed the night in meditation. The next morning I left the place, and resumed my journey toward the tent.
Somehow I lost my way in the plain, and when I had already walked five hours I had not reached the river which I ought to have reached in about three hours. I looked round and noticed to my surprise that I had been travelling towards the north, instead of towards the north-east.