Early in the forenoon fresh men with fresh yaks presented themselves to take over our loads on February 1. I could not understand why the nomads were ready to serve us without the slightest suggestion. Certainly the highway is divided into stages, and fresh yaks are kept in readiness for the transport of baggage and goods, but these advantages are intended only for Tibetans, not for a European caravan, which had not even a passport. At any rate Ngurbu Tundup had done us no harm; on the contrary, it was known everywhere that I was coming, and that he was a messenger sent to me by the Tashi Lama. At every halting-place we were told how many days ago he had passed through the place. The readiness of the nomads to provide us with yaks was due in no small degree to the good pay and kind treatment they received. Now our own yaks travelled without loads, and also the seven Ladak horses and the last surviving mule. But we were prepared for any emergency. We had agreed that if we could not at any time find transport animals, I, with Muhamed Isa and Namgyal, would ride on our three Tibetan horses in forced marches to Shigatse, while the caravan would follow slowly under Robert’s command.
| 100. Pass of La-rock. Mani Heap with Fluttering Prayer-Streamers. |
| 101. On the Bank of the Tsangpo (Brahmaputra). |
We had 58½ degrees of frost in the night, and the morning was horribly cold, dull, and stormy. We ascended to the next pass along a new valley. We had not gone far before we were half dead with cold; Robert wept, he was so frozen. When it was warmest, there were still 27½ degrees of frost, and a biting wind blew in our faces. Our faces, and especially our noses, would have been frost-bitten if we had not constantly put them in the openings of our long fur sleeves, where, however, the breath turned so quickly to ice that the sleeve froze on to the moustache. It is not easy to do map work under such circumstances. Before I have taken my observation and looked at the watch my left hand is dead; and, however much I hurry, I have not recorded the result before my right hand has lost all feeling. It is impossible to march on foot in face of the storm up a steep ascent and in the rarefied air if one has the least respect for one’s heart. We crept into a cave and crouched down on the sheltered side; we thrust our hands between the horse and the saddle-girth to thaw them; we stamped our feet, and looked intensely miserable when the muscles of our faces were so benumbed that we could hardly speak. “Let us ride on; we will light a fire up above.” And so we struggled painfully up through sharp-edged detritus and among stones.
At last we are up on the flat arch of the Chesang-la at an absolute height of 17,599 feet. This pass is therefore a little higher than the Sela-la, but nevertheless it is only a pass of the second rank, for it separates two of the affluents of the My-chu. When we came up, there were three large grey wolves on the pass, but they quickly took to flight. Here the storm raged in uncontrolled freedom, and we could scarcely keep on our feet. Robert and I crouched on the ground on the sheltered side of the large cairn, while Rabsang and our Tibetan guide collected dry yak-dung. We set it alight with the help of flint and steel, and then we all four cowered over the fire. We opened our fur coats to let a little heat penetrate our clothes and took off our boots to warm our feet, but we sat an hour and a half before we felt anything like human beings again. Then we hastened down in a south-south-westerly direction and encamped in the Sham valley near some wretched stone huts.
CHAPTER XXII
TO THE BANK OF THE BRAHMAPUTRA
The Sham valley narrows like a pear, and at the entrance of this funnel huts stand at three different spots, and large herds graze on the mountain slopes. A mani, 148 feet long by 5 feet high, was covered with clods to protect the upright stones sculptured with prayers. At length the Sham valley enters a large valley coming from the east, which occupies a prominent place in this river system. It is traversed by the Bup-chu-tsangpo, the largest river we have yet seen. Immediately below the place where the two valleys unite is the confluence of a third river, which is called Dangbe-chu and flows from the south-east. Thus three considerable streams meet in this small expansion of the valley. The explanations of my guide made this complicated river system of the My-chu-tsangpo clear to me. The sources of the Bup-chu-tsangpo lie two long days’ march to the east, and are of course to be found in the great offshoot of the Pabla which forms on the east the watershed of the My-chu-tsangpo. From the confluence where we now stood the Bup-chu-tsangpo continues its course for two short days’ journey south-westwards, and then at the monastery Linga-gompa enters the My-chu-tsangpo, which has its source in the main range of the Pabla.
The Bup-chu-tsangpo was at this season converted into a huge sheet of ice, but had an open water channel. We crossed dry-footed at a place where the ice formed a bridge all across the bed of the stream, and then marched in a south-easterly direction through the narrow Dangbe valley.