During these stormy days our animals lay for the most part quietly in a hollow where they were sheltered from the wind. The storm kept them from grazing, and they were much enfeebled by fasting. A white mule, therefore, remained behind at Lumbur-ringmo-tso when we moved off south-eastwards on March 3 with 3 horses, 6 mules, and 12 sheep, delighted that we had passed this critical point with a whole skin. Freshwater springs formed a number of picturesque ice volcanoes on the shore of the small lake. Before we encamped behind a projecting cliff, we met three large flocks of sheep with their shepherds. On such occasions I always went on foot. The new sheep all carried burdens, and gave invaluable help to our tired animals. They were tied up every night between the tents that they might be safe from wolves, and the yellow dog from Gartok proved an excellent guard. They bleated piteously the first evening, probably distressed at leaving their native country. I was sorry for them, for they had been treated as cruelly as Uncle Tom, but in time they became quite accustomed to their new way of life.
Violent storms prevailed all day and all the following day, on which we passed two black tents. At every camp we had to take the greatest care that no pieces of paper, match-boxes, candle ends, or cigarette stumps were left lying about, for we might be sure that the Tibetans dwelling near would come and search about after we had left the spot. Our route took us over a low pass (16,030 feet). The rocks comprised weathered schists, quartzite, and granite—the last only in detached blocks. On the other side we followed a deeply excavated valley opening out on to a plain, and we were just setting up our tent by a projecting rock when two large black dogs came running towards us barking. Nomads, therefore, were encamping in the neighbourhood, and we must be on our guard. Abdul Kerim, who always showed himself prudent and tactful in delicate negotiations, went off to a tent which stood on the other side of the rock and was inhabited by four Senkor nomads who owned 400 sheep. The chief of them was named Shgoge, and sold us three sheep at 3 rupees a head, some butter and milk. He said that the country here, around camp 345, was called Pankur, and that we were three days’ journey from the encampment of the Gertse Pun, or the chief of Gertse. With him, however, we had nothing to do. It was to our interest to avoid as much as possible officials of all kinds, not to approach Gertse or Senkor in the west too closely, and not too near my route of 1906 to the east. We must steer our way through many pitfalls. Just in this district we crossed the meridian of 84° E., and my plan was to travel due south from the Tong-tso right across the large blank space. The continual storms which had done us so much harm, were so far advantageous to us that they enabled us to cross the great wastes without being much noticed. This day all was hazy from the dust, and our neighbours’ sheep, which passed my tent in long columns with shepherds and dogs, made a very curious spectacle in the dense mist.
March 5. Abdul Kerim obtained two more sheep, and now we had seventeen to help the mules and horses. Our intention was to increase our sheep caravan by degrees, and make ourselves independent of the other animals. We must also have a spare horse for Abdul Kerim, for he was our master, and it was incongruous that he should go on foot while I, a simple caravan man, rode. This day we had the storm at our back, and we travelled 8½ miles over the same even, excellent ground which had made progress easier since we left Lemchung-tso. We encamped at a sheepfold and enjoyed the feeling that there were no neighbours to spy on us. A sheep was slaughtered; only the worst were sacrificed for food, and were to be replaced by new ones when an opportunity presented itself.
CHAPTER LXII
ADVENTURES OF OURSELVES AND PUPPY IN NAGRONG
On March 6 we made another hop towards our destination. It is difficult to travel over the high plateaus of Tibet in winter, and we could not march more than four hours a day. The morning was clear, but we had not gone far beyond a small lake, with its mantle of ice covered with driftsand and dust, before the storm increased in violence and made me reel in the saddle. The clouds of dust became thicker, the sandspouts were dark reddish-brown at the base, and the gusts tore up furrows in the ground like ploughshares, while frequently spiral forms were seen which could only be produced by cyclonic whirlwinds. On the left hand shimmered a lake, its surface partly white with gypsum and salt, partly streaked brown with driftsand, and with open water only in two places; it was the ghost of a lake which was doomed to disappear.
Two built-up fireplaces served us capitally for a camping-ground on the shore where the grazing was good. On the eastern side of the lake was a brick-red ridge of medium height, which I wished to paint in order to record the effective tones in the dust mist. I waited for the others with Kutus and Gulam, and we had scarcely induced a fire to burn before the storm rose at noon to a hurricane. Now everything vanished—lake, ridge, all except the nearest tufts of grass. The fire was fenced in with stones and clods lest it should be blown away, sand and minute pebbles beat against my dry skin coat, and I had to cover all my face, for the skin smarted as though lashed by whip-cord, if it were exposed for a second to the wind. Fortunately the others made their way to us. Every man had to lend a hand to raise my tent. At length Gulam came crawling backwards and yelled into my ear that the tent was ready. With straddling legs and all my muscles on the stretch I fought my way to it, and was glad to catch hold of a tent rope before I was blown down. At last I was under cover and could recover my breath. The tent cloth was puffed out like a balloon, and threatened every moment to burst with a report. The sand and rubbish beat upon it, producing a deafening noise. It was as dark as at twilight, and the wind roared and whined through the grass. The men tried to set up their own tent, but when the wind had overturned it twice they let it lie, weighting it with the baggage that it might not fly away. Five Ladakis lay in the lee of my tent rolled up like hedgehogs, and I let them come in, where they sat silent and motionless for a couple of hours. The others had crept under the ruins of their unfortunate tent. Puppy and Little Puppy lay in a corner and kept each other warm. However, the temperature was 35.8°, and we had not had such warmth for three months. A long and dismal evening! It was with difficulty I got a piece of bread, a cup of tea, and a piece of dried meat. We were deaf and dizzy when at length we sought repose under our rugs, while the storm continued to rage outside.