The outermost route, round which I undertook my circuit, has at each of its four quarters a temple. These four temples are called the “Four temples of Kang Rinpoche”. I first visited Nyenbo Rizon, which is the name of the temple standing at the western corner. The temple is dedicated to the Buḍḍha Amitābha and I heard that it is a very good investment in a worldly sense, the donations from pious folk amounting to as much as ten thousand yen during the three months of the summer season. This coincidence between Japan and Tibet, concerning the receipts of temples, is exceedingly interesting, for even in Japan temples dedicated to the Buḍḍha Amitābha are the most popular and enjoy the largest share of donations. At any rate such an income must be regarded as extraordinary for a temple situated in a remote part of Tibet. The income, I was told, all goes to the Treasury of the Court of Bhūṭān, in whose jurisdiction are placed all the religious establishments at Tise. This anomaly seems to have originated from the fact that the priests of the Dugpa sect of Bhūṭān formerly reigned supreme at this seat of religion.
The image of the Buḍḍha Amitābha, as enshrined in the temple, is made of a white lustrous stone, and it struck me as a work of high technical merit for Tibet. The features are of the Tibetan type, and looked mild and affable, awaking in me pious thoughts.
In front of the image are erected two ivory tusks about five feet high and very thick, and behind them I saw a hundred volumes of Tibetan Buḍḍhist works arranged on shelves. These books were not there for reading, but in order to receive as sacred objects the offering of the burning lamp.
This use of Buḍḍhist books is peculiar, though it is preferable to the outrageous treatment to which these books are sometimes subjected by impious priests, who do not scruple to tear out leaves and use them for various improper purposes.
After worship, I took from the pile a book that related to the Buḍḍha Amitābha, read it, and then left the temple. Then began my journey through Nature’s Tabernacles, the first object in which was the ‘Golden Valley’.
The adjective ‘golden’ should not be taken in a literal sense, for gold is not found near this place. Rhetorically, however, the valley deserves this distinction, the scenery all round being really magnificent. There are several fantastic rocks of great size towering far into the sky, while beyond them peeps the snow-clad summit of the peak of Tise. And from the crevices and narrow grooves between those towering rocks shoot down several cascades as much as a thousand feet in height. There are quite a number of them, but only seven are really large. Those seven waterfalls have each a distinct individuality. Some shoot down with great force and look not unlike the fabulous dragon descending the rock, while others look milder and may be compared to a white sheet suspended over the rock. I sat down in rapture at the sight, and felt as if I had been transported to some heavenly place. There are to the left several falls and also a range of snow-capped peaks, but they are not to be compared in grandeur with those on the right, at which I had been gazing with extasy. This one sight alone, I thought, well repaid the labor of the journey. I wished to embody my sentiments in a few verses, but the inspiration would not come, and so I proceeded on my way, and soon emerged on the northern section of the Tise group. There I found another Lama monastery, which bore the quaint name of ‘Ri Ra Puri’ (meaning, ‘The place of the female yak’s horn’). It originated in a tradition that once, in ancient times, Gyrva Gottsang Pa, from Bhūṭān, went round this natural Maṇdala in order to find his way in the wilderness. Whilst he was going to the mountain, he found a female yak which proceeded before him and led him on an untrodden path over the snows.
After finishing his route round the Holy Place, he arrived at this spot; the female yak concealed herself in a cavern, now in the temple, and accidentally one of her horns struck against a rock. It was believed by the Lama that the female yak was a disguised form of the mother of the Buḍḍha named Vajra.
This ‘Yak’s Horn Temple’ ranks next to the first temple in respect to pecuniary income. It contains, however, a larger number of priests than the other, there being about fifteen, while the latter has only four.
It was towards dusk that I reached this temple, and I was allowed to lodge there for the night. The priest who appeared to be the senior man in the place was very kind to me and offered his own chamber for my use. It faced towards Mount Kailāsa. My host told me that the view of the moon from this chamber was quite enchanting. He brought me a cup of tea with plenty of butter in it, for I had told him that I made it a rule to dispense with the evening meal. I spent a few pleasant hours with my host, who pointed out to me, on the south from the temple, the high majestic snow-covered peak of Mount Tise, representing the Buḍḍha Shākyamuni; the three small snowy peaks before the mountain, he said, were the Boḍhisaṭṭvas Manjushrī, Avalokiṭeshvara and Vajrapāṇi; he then gave me a description in detail of other peaks, but I need not narrate here what he explained to me, for the account of the range is given in most works treating of Tibet and its geography.
That night I had one of the pleasantest experiences I remember during my expedition to Tibet: it was a pleasure of an elevating kind. My mind was subdued and captivated as I looked, in that still night and in that remote and far-off place, at the soft rays of the moon reflected on the crystal-like current that was flowing with a pleasant murmur. Just as, in the holy Texts, the soft breeze stirring the branches of trees in paradise is said to produce a pleasant note, that sounds to the ears of the happy denizens of that blissful abode like the voice of some one reading the Scriptures, so that sweet murmur of the moon-reflecting stream deluded my enchanted ears into believing that they were listening to the divine music of Buḍḍhism. Staying in that sacred place, and surrounded by such soul-subduing phenomena, my mind soared higher and higher, till it flew up to the eternal region beyond this world of woe and care. The holy Founder tells us that the most sacred region lies in one’s own pure mind, but I, sinful mortal as I was, felt elevated and chastened when I found myself in such an environment.