Through Unknown Tibet

by M. S. Wellby

After a bitterly cold night we descended gaily over grassy plains, for the morning was bright and the sun had polished up the snow peaks that surrounded us on all sides, so that they shone again. Kyang, antelope, and sand-grouse had selected these pastures, and afforded us sport and provender as we marched. The pleasure of the day was somewhat marred by our inability to find any water before nightfall. At that hour we came to a very noticeable hill, standing at the entrance of a nullah. On the top of this hill was a large heap of stones decorated with many sticks and red rags. We were all glad to see it, for we had learnt by now that this signified a camping ground. There lay a few skeletons of tame yak. A spring of beautifully clear water took its rise here, while lovely grass grew everywhere.

We afterwards learnt that this remarkable spot is named Dapsoga, and the hill Ser, and that from here there are two roads which lead over the Burhan Bota range of mountains into the Tsaidam. One of these roads, called the Burhan Bota Pass, takes a more westerly course, and is longer than the other, which is called the Namoran Dawan (Pass). This latter road, though shorter, is more difficult by reason of the thick brushwood and the river, which has frequently to be crossed. Merchants who go this way complain that they invariably lose some of their baggage animals in the undergrowth. Of course, at the time of our arrival, we knew nothing about any road at all, and quite unconsciously elected to take the Namoran Dawan.

We followed the stream whose source we had found, which flowed rapidly over a stony bottom, so that, although the water was only knee deep, it was difficult for us to keep our footing. The precipitous mountains, that sometimes ran clean down to the water's edge, compelled us, on each occasion, to cross the torrent. These hills were rugged and bare. At other times the nullah became broad, with a wider bed to the river. At such places there grew grass and thick brushwood, some of it eight feet high. At one of these delightful spots we made our midday halt, as other caravans had done, judging from the many chulas we found. Further on we found many traces along the path of people, sheep and ponies having journeyed this way.

We found our commissariat was at its lowest ebb, for although we had seen a hare and three snipe, we had shot nothing, and we reflected that unless we killed something the next day we should have to live on air and water. As we looked down stream it seemed as though it would soon issue out into open plains, where we anticipated finding people.

It was hard to make a start the next morning, for Esau and Lassoo had got silly fancies into their heads that the water was too cold to cross, and until we explained to them the impossibility of this fact we remained at a standstill. The truth of their statement, nevertheless, we inwardly agreed to, and afterwards outwardly felt the force of it. Without any sun, and a strong north-east wind blowing, our constant plunging into the torrent, ever increasing in force and volume, deprived our legs of all feeling. Fortunately a solitary kyang fell to Malcolm's rifle, and at noon we saw, on the other side of the river, thick brushwood, unmistakably an old camping ground. Once more we stumbled over the stony bottom of the river, and then, collecting a pile of the thickest brushwood, we made a huge fire to dry our clothes by and to cook our wild donkey for breakfast.

As we proceeded after this rest and repast, we came to more jungle, composed principally of wild raspberry and currant bushes, and other red berries, to all of which we did ample justice; even the little dog, Ruby, picked the berries from the bushes with her mouth, for she must have felt the want of other nourishment as much as we ourselves did.

Around and about the bushes were more marks of sheep having recently been grazing there. All were jubilant, for even if we did not find people that evening, we had a small supply of meat. Our men at last lost all control as, with shouts of joy, they tore along through the fruit bushes towards a stone building which had appeared in sight.

All thought our goal at last was reached. On drawing closer to this, we found it consisted of a small stone building, about twelve feet square and of the same height. Looking through the rails of the small wooden door, we found the whole space occupied by a large prayer-wheel, which for ever was being turned round by the force of the stream. Over the door, in a ledge, was a packet of prayers, which I appropriated. The prayers were written on paper and wrapped up in cloth. On looking around for more curiosities, I found prayers and rags were hanging from several of the bushes and trees; on one particular fruit tree was the longest prayer of all, written on white cloth and tied by ropes to it. The temptation to take this religious offering was too great for me, for I untied the knots, and pulling down the cloth with a feeling of sacrilege, overpowered by that of curiosity, I hastily rolled the thing up and hid it away, glancing round in case there might be some one looking on unobserved but close at hand. It would have been a bad beginning to strike up a friendship with strangers by being caught in the act of outraging their religion. We were not, however, destined to meet people just at present. Shortly after our excitement had worn off, we saw slowly moving along with measured pace, on the opposite bank of the river, a fine black bear. This was his last evening walk, for Malcolm soon bowled him over with a well-directed bullet through the head. This episode, and the misty rain that now enshrouded us, demanded a halt.

We had to bring the bear's skin and fat over the river, after cutting him up on the other side, yet this unpleasant work and the wet weather made no impression on the good spirits of the men. Our Duffadar was perhaps the most jubilant, for he fully expected the next day to swagger through a Mongol village with all the war-paint he could muster under the trying times.

As we marched down the gorge we found strings of prayers hung from tree to tree, written on pieces of red, blue, and white-coloured cloth. But after about three miles' tramp through the fruit bushes, we crossed over a highish ridge and then debouched into an arid, stony plain, and our river wended away to the south. This was a very bitter disappointment to all, for just at the moment when we had expected to view the homely comfort of a nomad's camp, or of a Mongol village, we could see nothing but a stretch of desert country to relieve the eye.