The ice was excellent, far better than on the first traverse. Also the salt was less abundant, owing to the westerly storms which sweep it eastwards. For long distances the ice lay pure and smooth in front of us, and had a dark green colour. I did not know what to make of it when we tramped over the dark patches. Were there warm springs at the bottom which prevented the lake from freezing over in parts? But we soon became accustomed to the sight, the ice was firm and at least 6½ inches thick, while the greatest depth amounted to 31¾ feet. I sat like a statue of Buddha cross-legged on my toy sledge, smoked, took observations, made notes, and rejoiced that I could keep New Year’s Eve on the ice of Ngangtse-tso. About mid-day a south-westerly wind arose, and I had to ride backwards so as not to get frozen. A lead running north and south puzzled us greatly. It was 5 feet broad, and ran in either direction as far as the eye could reach; open water lapped between the margins of ice. Probably it had come into existence during a storm, when the whole ice-sheet was slightly disturbed towards the east, and had left behind it a yawning channel. After a long search we found a place where fresh ice was being formed below. Using the sledge as a bridge we crossed over dry-footed. How the others got over the difficulty I do not know, but they were not afraid of wetting their feet.
We went ashore rather early, at a place where 19 horses were grazing on the wide plain and a youth was watching 500 sheep. He scampered off in a hurry when he saw us coming, and I was not surprised that he was afraid when he saw ten great fellows stealing like ghosts over a lake that had never been trodden by human foot. The Ladakis sat round a large fire, sang, and blew their flutes, and the moonlight poured down a cold, peaceful flood of light over the unknown strand where a party of wandering strangers were passing a single night of their lives. It was the last night of the year 1906, and the camp was our hundredth.
A splendid New Year’s morning in 1907! With joyful hopes for the new year and its work I began the third line of soundings in a direction south, 19° E., towards a dark spur lying between two valleys where ice-clumps glistened in the sun. The spur seemed to fall steeply to the lake and the distance seemed tremendous, but it was an illusion: the low plain extending from the foot of the mountains to the lake could not be seen from the ice. We had to cross the fissure of the day before, but it had frozen over in the night. But water stood in many other fissures and spurted up as we passed over. This day our porters kept up with us, and their songs resounded far and wide over the ice-fields. At every new hole they settled down and awaited the result of the sounding with genuine interest. Singular men, always cheerful and contented, never down-hearted and complaining, taking everything as it comes, and calm and composed in all kinds of wind and weather.
Puppy has had enough of running over the ice, suffers from cold feet, jumps on the sledge as soon as it comes to a halt, but has a decided objection to riding.
A conical summit to the south of camp No. 99 dominates the whole lake like a lighthouse. Nain Sing, who touched the north shore of the Ngangtse-tso, has drawn the outline of the lake on the whole correctly, but has made the south-western part too broad. There also the sheet of water narrows down to a point, and the whole has the form of a half-moon. The mountains, which the Pundit has inserted in his map on the south side of the lake, are very erroneously portrayed, and no wonder—for he saw them only from a great distance, and could not possibly, in these circumstances, obtain any proper notion of their configuration. It is just as hard to form an idea of a lake by viewing it from the shore; this is possible only from a pass or a crest.
We wondered whether we could reach the southern shore before twilight, for the distance seemed still enormous. About noon the wind began to blow strongly, whirled up white clouds of dry salt, swept them along the ice, and obscured our view. Sitting on the sledge I was exposed to its full onslaught, and had to be careful not to open my mouth. Here and there the ice rose in undulations, as though it had been formed in a high sea; the ice-waves also have a steep slope towards east-north-east, the way of the wind. In the troughs between them the salt-dust driven by the wind collects, and lends to the ice-field a curious appearance like watered silk. All the eastern half of the lake is concealed by the rocky promontories near which our camp, No. 99, is pitched. We penetrate more deeply into the southern bay. Yaks graze on the slopes, and towards evening are driven down by a man. To the south also we catch sight of tents, yaks, and groups of kiangs. From our low point of view they seem to be moving in the midst of the lake; the acuteness of the angle of elevation deceives us. At the last sounding-hole the axe and crow-bar bored deeper and deeper into the ice without breaking through. Not till a depth of 17¼ inches was reached did the water burst violently up, full of the usual small red crustaceæ—the salinity of the lake cannot therefore be very great. Somewhat further the ice was found to lie directly on the clayey bottom without a layer of water beneath it. Then we came to the sterile shore, and were glad that we were this day independent of vegetation. We found fuel and obtained water by melting lumps of ice. The greatest depth on this line was 30.8 feet, or a little less than on the others.
We had another boisterous storm towards evening. The lake ice, only a couple of yards distant, vanished completely from sight, and the dung-gatherers suddenly emerged from the mist when they were only a few steps from the fire. I could not understand how they found their way in such a thick atmosphere. They erected a shelter from the wind with the sledge and three sacks of fuel, and sat behind it by their fire, the flickering flames almost singeing their faces. The group was exceedingly picturesque in the dark night and the struggling moon-beams. And how it blew! I could scarcely keep my feet when I read the thermometer, and my cap flew in all directions. In the night the men slept huddled up together in the shelter of the tent.
The temperature on January 2 was −8°. To-day the fourth line had to be executed; it was short, it is true—barely five hours, but trying. We had to march south-westwards, straight in the teeth of the wind. Moreover, the ice proved rough and heavy, doubtless in consequence of the slight depth of the lake. The maximum depth was 10.6 feet. In my diary, this day is described as one of the worst, if not absolutely the worst, day of the whole journey. But we always think that what is present is the worst, forgetting the horrors of the past. The storm drove the salt before it in thick clouds, which scoured the ice with a swishing sound and dashed into my face. When I ordered my two “towing horses” to keep the direction, a quantity of salt flew into my mouth, and I had the greater difficulty in getting rid of the disagreeable taste that the powder also made its way into my nose. My eyes became red, watered, and ached. My hands, from constant contact with the sounding-line for several days, were encrusted with salt, and the skin cracked so deeply that the blood ran. Sometimes my hands turned blue, were stiff, and lost all feeling, so that it was only with the greatest difficulty that I managed, holding the pen in the fist like a chisel, to jot down the results of the soundings, the times, and distances; other notes were not to be thought of. Rabsang and Tashi at all events kept themselves warm, for they had to put forth all their strength to drag the sledge against the storm. Where the ice was smooth they could not get firm foothold, slipped and fell; once Tashi was thrown into my lap, capsized by the gale. Often the wind was so strong that sledge, and team were driven backwards, and the men could only stop themselves by sitting down and planting their feet against a ridge of salt. I became so benumbed and helpless that I could not rise, and had to remain sitting while the holes were hacked out. But at one hole, which was broken in a field of ice as smooth as a mirror, the wind seized the sledge and myself and carried us in a dizzy race over the lake like an ice-yacht. I tried to put on the drag with my feet, but I had no power in them, and my boots of soft felt glided lightly and jauntily over the ice mirror without reducing the speed in the least. The runners were too short, and the sledge revolved in a circle, but still it moved onwards, and if the ice had been all smooth, the storm would have blown me back in a few minutes all across the lake to camp No. 98. Then my vehicle fortunately tilted over in a fissure, I was thrown out, shot a little way farther over the ice, and landed on a salt ridge. Rabsang hurried sliding after me, picked up me and the sledge, and drew me back to the hole unharmed (Illustration 94).
Our appearance was enough to frighten one another. We looked like swollen disinterred corpses, dried in the sun and daubed with white oil paint. Faces, hands, and clothes were white with salt. I could not wear my sheepskin again; it was stiff, had given way at the seams, and had to be thrown away with other clothes.