Through Unknown Tibet

by M. S. Wellby

On awakening the following morning, the first sight that greeted our eyes was that of our original hired yak being driven back in a body the way they had come, without any one attempting to stop them. It was fortunate we had woken up in good time that morning, as we were in time to prevent their straying far. We soon had them back again, and to prevent further attempt at desertion, at once set about the loading up of the two lots of transport. In spite of our instructions and arrangements the previous night, there was considerable confusion, and with the class of men we had to deal with, it was unavoidable. All as usual seize upon the nearest animal to load it up with the baggage nearest at hand, entirely regardless as to whether the load is suitable in weight or size to the animal, or whether it is required to go on with the party in advance. Until the muleteers were quite under our thumb, it was impossible to make them do otherwise.

We carried a glass lantern to hold a candle, and being anxious to save it from being broken, it was carried in the hand by one of the hired yakmen, but as to one of our own muleteers carrying a lantern for a few miles! why, he had never done such a contemptible thing in all his life, and wasn't going to do it now!

To avoid the chance of our hired transport making a second attempt to turn back, we left Shahzad Mir and Esau to bring them on, as well as our two most reliable muleteers, Bakr Hadji and Shukr Ali, and after saying good-bye to the Kadir who had done so much good service for us, and to the kind people of Ludhkong, we started on our waterless march.

We soon took a turning half-right, over some good grazing land, and then began an easy ascent of the Porandu Pass for about five miles. When we had nearly reached the summit, we stopped to boil our kettle with some snow at hand, and to have our breakfast. Below us we could see first of all our own mules and ponies, while right away in the distance our glasses showed us our flock of sheep and goats and our hired yak, and Shahzad Mir with the man carrying the plane table.

It was not encouraging, after having crossed this pass, to find the road bending still more round to the right, following the direction of the shore of the Pangong Lake, and we calculated that if we continued to zigzag in the way we had done since leaving Leh, we should stand a chance of reaching China in two or three years' time.

Our muleteers manifested anything but a willing spirit. As we were riding on ahead, we were annoyed to find the caravan had halted some way back, of their own accord, and from their general demeanour we concluded they were contemplating whether the journey they were about to launch forth on was really good enough or not. We, too, halted; this seemed to be a turning-point in their plans, for they soon began to move on again.

As we ascended the stony nullah, sleet began to fall, encouraging the darkness before its due time, and compelling us to take the best shelter we could find for the night. Close by we found a suitable place—a sudden dip in the nullah bordered by heavy overhanging rocks, with a fair stretch of level ground at their foot. Here we drove four stout pegs into the ground, with strong ropes fastened to them, making two parallel lines; to one of these lines we picketed the mules, and to the other the ponies, with the exception of a certain black mule and a certain white pony. This couple had lived together practically for all their lives; in fact, at the time when we were buying our transport in Leh, we had to be satisfied with taking both of them or none at all, for the merchant who owned them was as fond of them as they were of one another, and rather than see them separated he would lose the chance of making his profit on one of them.

This remarkable pair also found a warm spot in our hearts, and we did all we could to keep the white pony in health and strength. They always marched together, grazed together, and were never apart. On one occasion when the pony was showing signs of weakness, we decided to ride it, for by dint of walking a good deal and stopping two or three times during the march, in grassy spots, we managed to save our riding ponies considerably, and, we thought, the black mule would manage without his friend for a few hours; but nothing of the sort—as soon as we rode away with the white pony, immediately after him came the black mule, load and all. We felt more convinced than ever that should the white pony die at any time from exhaustion, his faithful friend would soon follow after him; this doubled our anxiety to keep up the strength of the white pony, for he was in no way equal to the black mule. To tell now of the fate of this dear old couple would, perhaps, be anticipating events.

Near our camp there was not a vestige of grass, so we had to fall back upon our limited supply of bhoussa and grain. Of course the mules and ponies had to go waterless, although we were able to collect sufficient snow for the use of our men and ourselves.

We had already turned to our left again, and had ceased to follow the Pangong Lake, but had continued to make a long ascent. On leaving our encampment by the rocks, up, up we went; a blinding sleet blew in our faces, making it hard to see more than a few yards. At the top of this pass, which was called the Ann Pass, sickness from the unaccustomed height in no way sweetened the temper of some of our men, and we found no pleasure attached to the operation of finding out the height of this pass with the hypsometer, with a temperature just about freezing-point. We hurried down the other side of this comfortless pass, and for the rest of the day marched along a rocky, stony pathway, amidst a continuous snowstorm, when suddenly, on a bend to our left, the whole aspect was entirely changed. The heavy clouds gave way to a warm and genial sun. Thick brushwood and green grass replaced the sharply-angled rocks and those countless loose stones that lay about everywhere, as though they were a bore to themselves and to all others. A clear stream, too, ran merrily through this pleasant spot. No wonder the kyang and antelope had chosen this as one of their favourite districts to wander into, and the hares had grown fat and multiplied.