We crossed a great road running to the north-west; hundreds of yaks had recently passed—no doubt a salt caravan on the way to Tabie-tsaka. Then we passed a circular wall, where a solitary man came out and looked at us, but retired behind the wall when he found that we would have nothing to do with him. A fine mani decorated with horns stood on a terrace, and just below it we halted for the night by a sheet of ice produced by springs. We had scarcely set up the tents when a caravan of several hundred sheep, laden with salt, came along from the north-west. Only two armed guides were with it; they had been to Tabie-tsaka, and were now going home to Yangchut-tanga, twenty days’ journey to the south-east. In the same direction 400 yaks were grazing, which were said to belong to the Gova of the district. In the evening we had a visit from a traveller who was going home to his tent farther south. He promised to sell us three sheep in the morning. Would he keep his word?
Yes, certainly; he met us with the sheep next day as we were passing along the western shore of the Chunit-tso (15,574 feet) southwards. At the northern extremity of the lake a warm sulphurous spring burst forth. We were told that if a man drinks of it he becomes ill, but if he mixes the water with some from an adjacent cold spring he is cured of any complaint he may suffer from. Sick sheep and goats are dipped in the warm water and become well again at once. The spring is holy, and a mani heap is set up near it. The lake is slightly salt and frozen. Two small brooks enter it from the mountains on the west; a third brook, Lungnak-bupchu, formed a large sheet of ice, and in the mouth of its valley stood a couple of tents, and their dogs came down on us like a whirlwind, but received such a thrashing from Takkar that they showed themselves no more that evening.
April 3. We left the southern end of the lake behind us and ascended a small valley leading up to the low pass Nima-lung-la, near which we encamped in a barren spot between granite crags. An eagle-owl sat in a cleft and at twilight uttered its shrill piercing cry. Lobsang said that this bird was thought much of in Tibet, because it warns honest men of thieves and robbers. When the eagle-owls sit and scream, robbers are certain to be in the neighbourhood.
On April 4 we had only half an hour’s march to the threshold of the Nima-lung-la (16,017 feet), from which there is a magnificent view over the Trans-Himalaya—a series of dark rocks with black, snow-crowned peaks. Between us and the range extended a wide, perfectly level plain, full of pools, marshes, and rivulets. At one of them sat two Tibetans cutting up a yak which had died. They confirmed the information we had received before, that we were now in the district Bongba-kemar, a day’s journey from Bongba-kebyang, and that we must follow the river Buptsang-tsangpo for several days upwards to reach Saka-dzong by the pass Samye-la. I had still a very dim and indistinct notion of the geographical configuration of this region. Was the range in front of us to the south a continuation of Nien-chen-tang-la, which I had crossed at the Sela-la, Chang-la-Pod-la, and Angden-la; or was it another range disconnected from the former? During the following days we should obtain an answer to this question. Should we be successful, and be able to complete this exceedingly important meridional traverse through an unknown part of Tibet? It would be more than provoking to be stopped just at the northern foot of the Trans-Himalaya.
Camp 374 was pitched below the opening of a valley where there were two tents. The nomads warned us against the water in the pools of the plain: our horses would lose their hair if they drank of it. “Snoring” Kunchuk complained of toothache, but was cured at once by two resolute comrades. The operation was performed with pincers properly intended for horse-shoe nails. To get at the tooth better, they put a stone in the patient’s mouth. “Do not kill me,” he shrieked when the tooth jumped out.
On April 5 we travelled altogether 10¼ miles to the south. The country was perfectly barren, and the ground was entirely covered with red porphyry detritus. A small spring surrounded by grass seemed to us quite an oasis, and there we encamped near a sheepfold and a mani heap.
Another day’s march and we came to the Buptsang-tsangpo, “the deeply excavated river,” and followed it to the south. The river is divided into several arms, and already contained a deal of water, though for the most part it was frozen. This valley is about 3 miles broad and has a very gentle slope. The locality where we encamped after passing fourteen tents was called Monlam-gongma (15,820 feet). Hence the river was said to flow five days’ journey to the north-north-west and pour into a large lake, called the Tarok-tso. We might have attempted to make an excursion in that direction, but it was more important to complete the meridional line while the country was still open to us. Two huge snowy peaks which the nomads here, as on the tasam, called Lunpo-gangri, or “the great ice mountain,” were said to lie to the right of the route we ought to follow to Saka-dzong. This information was exceedingly puzzling, and I saw that Lunpo-gangri with the summits triangulated by Ryder and Wood could not be a prolongation of the mighty range I had crossed by three passes, and which, farther east, bears the name Nien-chen-tang-la.
After a vain attempt to get rid of our enfeebled yaks, we continued up the great river along its right or eastern bank terrace. A south-westerly storm which commenced some days before still continued. In the Amchung country (camp 376) we had a neighbour called Kamba Dramdul, who could not give much information, but what he said was of deep interest. We had still some days’ journey to the Samye-la—all up the Buptsang-tsangpo valley, with gangris or snowy heights on both the right and left sides. On the pass we should be quite close to the peaks of Lunpo-gangri. I already suspected that the great range we had on our left—that is, towards the east—was a continuation of Nien-chen-tang-la, while Lunpo-gangri was a quite independent chain without the least connection with the former.
The eastern range increased in magnitude on the following day’s march, and among its dark ramifications rose some rather flat summits capped with eternal snow. We kept for the most part to the top of the terrace on the right bank, which was 50 to 65 feet above the river, and fell steeply to the even valley bottom where the stream meandered. Here the valley was about 2 miles broad. The ice mantle of the river became wider and thicker the higher we mounted, but the rise was very gradual. From camp 377 the culminating peak of Lunpo-gangri lay south, 23° E. Every day’s journey we accomplished without adventures strengthened our position. The nomads must think: If these men travel right through the whole of Bongba without being stopped, they cannot be impostors.