“His description of Wakhān as ‘a province of no great size, extending indeed no more than three days’ journey in any direction’ suggests that a portion of the valley must then have formed part of the chiefship of Ishkāshim or Zebak over which we may suppose ‘the brother of the Prince of Badashan’ to have ruled. Such fluctuations in the extent of Wakhān territory are remembered also in modern times. Thus Colonel Trotter, who visited Wakhān with a section of the Yarkand Mission in 1874, distinctly notes that ‘Wakhān formerly contained three “sads” or hundreds, i.e., districts, containing 100 houses each’ (viz. Sad-i-Sar-hadd, Sad Sipang, Sad Khandūt). To these Sad Ishtragh, the tract extending from Dīgargand to Ishkāshim, is declared to have been added in recent times, having formerly been an independent principality. It only remains to note that Marco was right, too, in his reference to the peculiar language of Wakhān; for Wakhī—which is spoken not only by the people of Wakhān but also by the numerous Wakhī colonists spread through Mastūj, Hunza Sarikol, and even further east in the mountains—is a separate language belonging to the well-defined group of Galcha tongues which itself forms the chief extant branch of Eastern Iranian.”
XXXII., pp. 171 seq., 175, 182.
THE PLATEAU OF PAMIR.
“On leaving Tāsh-kurghān (July 10, 1900), my steps, like those of Hiuan-tsang, were directed towards Kāshgar.... In Chapters V.–VII. of my Personal Narrative I have given a detailed description of this route, which took me past Muztāgh-Ata to Lake Little Kara-kul, and then round the foot of the great glacier-crowned range northward into the Gez defile, finally debouching at Tāshmalik into the open plain of Kāshgari. Though scarcely more difficult than the usual route over the Chichiklik Pass and by Yangi-Hīsar, it is certainly longer and leads for a considerably greater distance over ground which is devoid of cultivation or permanent habitations.
“It is the latter fact which makes me believe that Professor H. Cordier was right in tracing by this very route Marco Polo’s itinerary from the Central Pamirs to Kāshgar. The Venetian traveller, coming from Wakhān, reached, after three days, a great lake which may be either Lake Victoria or Lake Chakmak, at a ‘height that is said to be the highest place in the world.’ He then describes faithfully enough the desert plain called ‘Pamier,’ which he makes extend for the distance of a twelve days’ ride, and next tells us: ‘Now, if we go on with our journey towards the east-north-east, we travel a good forty days, continually passing over mountains and hills, or through valleys, and crossing many rivers and tracts of wilderness. And in all this way you find neither habitation of man, nor any green thing, but must carry with you whatever you require.’
“This reference to continuous ‘tracts of wilderness’ shows clearly that, for one reason or another, Marco Polo did not pass through the cultivated valleys of Tāsh-kurghān or Tagharma, as he would necessarily have done if his route to Kāshgar, the region he next describes, had lain over the Chichiklik Pass. We must assume that, after visiting either the Great or Little Pāmīr, he travelled down the Ak-su river for some distance, and then crossing the watershed eastwards by one of the numerous passes struck the route which leads past Muztāgh-Ata and on towards the Gez defile. In the brief supplementary notes contributed to Professor Cordier’s critical analysis of this portion of Marco Polo’s itinerary, I have pointed out how thoroughly the great Venetian’s description of the forty days’ journey to the E.N.E. of the Pāmīr Lake can be appreciated by any one who has passed through the Pāmīr region and followed the valleys stretching round the Muztāgh-Ata range on the west and north (cf. Yule, Marco Polo, II., pp. 593 seq.). After leaving Tāsh-kurghān and Tagharma there is no local produce to be obtained until the oasis of Tāshmalik is reached. In the narrow valley of the Yamān-yār river, forming the Gez defile, there is scarcely any grazing; its appearance down to its opening into the plain is, in fact, far more desolate than that of the elevated Pāmīr regions.
“In the absence of any data as to the manner and season in which Marco Polo’s party travelled, it would serve no useful purpose to hazard explanations as to why he should assign a duration of forty days to a journey which for a properly equipped traveller need not take more than fifteen or sixteen days, even when the summer floods close the passage through the lower Gez defile, and render it necessary to follow the circuitous track over the Tokuk Dawān or ‘Nine Passes.’ But it is certainly worth mention that Benedict Goëz, too, speaks of the desert of ‘Pāmech’ (Pāmīr) as taking forty days to cross if the snow was extensive, a record already noted by Sir H. Yule (Cathay, II., pp. 563 seq.). It is also instructive to refer once more to the personal experience of the missionary traveller on the alternative route by the Chichiklik Pass. According to the record quoted above, he appears to have spent no less than twenty-eight days in the journeys from the hamlets of ‘Sarcil’ (Sarīkol, i.e. Tāsh-kurghān) to ‘Hiarchan’ (Yarkand)—a distance of some 188 miles, now reckoned at ten days’ march.” (Stein, Ancient Khotan, pp. 40–42.)
XXXII., p. 171. “The Plain is called Pamier, and you ride across it for twelve days together, finding nothing but a desert without habitations or any green thing, so that travellers are obliged to carry with them whatever they have need of.”
At Sarhad, Afghan Wakhan, Stein, Ruins of Desert Cathay, I., p. 69, writes: “There was little about the low grey houses, or rather hovels, of mud and rubble to indicate the importance which from early times must have attached to Sarhad as the highest place of permanent occupation on the direct route leading from the Oxus to the Tarim Basin. Here was the last point where caravans coming from the Bactrian side with the products of the Far West and of India could provision themselves for crossing that high tract of wilderness ‘called Pamier’ of which old Marco Polo rightly tells us: ‘You ride across it...’ And as I looked south towards the snow-covered saddle of the Baroghil, the route I had followed myself, it was equally easy to realize why Kao Hsien-chih’s strategy had, after the successful crossing of the Pamirs, made the three columns of his Chinese Army concentrate upon the stronghold of Lien-yün, opposite the present Sarhad. Here was the base from which Yasin could be invaded and the Tibetans ousted from their hold upon the straight route to the Indus.”