We were almost tempted to try a swim in the salt water, but on close examination we found the shore sloped down in terraces to the water's edge, where it became soft and treacherous. All this distinctly showed that the size of the lake must have been for many years gradually decreasing, and one is led to believe that such is the case in regard to most salt lakes in Tibet. The water, we were surprised to find, was not nearly so brackish as the surroundings would have induced one to believe. The only life we saw about it were a few Brahmini ducks and a couple of geese, which latter did not settle on the lake.
CROSSING THE NAPU LA (18,500 FEET HIGH).
Throughout Tibet we never saw any kind of game on any salt lake, with the exception of the Brahminis. At the east side of the lake lies the foot of the Napu La (pass).
All the way, a track leads up a narrow, stony, and rocky gorge, an almost impossible road after a fall of snow. To have taken our own animals over this pass carrying heavy loads would have been ruination to our plans, and we more than ever congratulated ourselves on having engaged the assistance of these fifteen extra hired animals. During these few days too, a certain amount of grain and bhoussa had been eaten, so that our mules and ponies on this occasion were not really heavily laden. At the top of the pass was the usual pile of stones and sticks which always have been erected in these regions, to denote that the summit is reached. The stones had been piled up in the centre of the col, while a little snow lay on the adjacent heights, which it connected.
A snap shot with the Kodak at some of our poor animals after a four hours' climb was an opportunity not to be lost, for the pass was nearly 18,500 feet above the sea level.[1] After descending for a short distance, we saw below us a fine glacier sloping downwards from north to south; to have attempted to cross it would have been madness itself. Around its southern edge we found a narrow and very steep track, which we followed, and as soon as we had found some fair grass, lower than and beyond the precincts of the glacier, we halted for the night, the place being called Tanjun. Although our own animals had managed thus early to cross this pass, yet it was not until the following afternoon that the hired yak arrived.
At this stage we began to taste of difficulties and casualties. First of all our hired transport would go no further, and henceforth we were entirely dependent upon our own animals. One of our men, too, Bakr Hadji by name, a Yarkandi, declared that he could proceed no more. He lay on his back, and, rolling his eyes, moaned continuously. We pitied him, for he seemed a fairly decent sort of fellow, but we had no desire, so early in our trip, to be encumbered by a sick man. We concluded that he was suffering from mountain sickness, though all the Argoons came to us protesting that Bakr Hadji was a Yarkandi, and like all other Yarkandis had a "chota dil," or in other words, was chicken-hearted; they maintained that they themselves were of very different kidney, and prepared to follow us wherever we might choose to go. It was, at any rate, manifest that our men had no intention of turning back just at present, for with the return of the hired yak-men an easy opportunity was open to them, and in all probability it would be their last. Our guide, who had served us so well, agreed to come along with us one more day.
Our road lay through a broad valley, which stretched away eastwards, with a small stream which took its rise from the glacier running down its centre. On either side were small grassy nullahs, suitable spots for encampments. The guide told us that in two or three days we should find ourselves amongst men living in a district called Rundore, and that we should have met men before had not a great many of them been summoned to strengthen the post at Rudok. He himself was anxious to turn back before coming amongst the men of Rundore, for he was convinced that he would meet with but scant civility for having been the cause of bringing us that way.
After we had marched down the valley for about a dozen miles, we overtook two nomads, and having supplied them with some tobacco and other small articles we thought they would appreciate, we entered into negotiations as to their willingness to come along with us and show us a road that ran eastwards, receiving in return for their services food and money, and some small present, such as a knife. They became in time ready to accept these proposals, and promised to show us the way to Mangtza-Tso (or lake) where they said we should arrive in four or five days. They, however, feared the Rundore men, and said that they would undoubtedly stop our progress, should they happen to learn that we were in their vicinity. Yet they hoped before meeting with any opposition to take a turning up a certain valley to the left, and thus escape observation.