Our direction becomes now more northerly and we go up the Sangmo-bertik valley, where the bottom is filled with ice clear as glass, but there is good pasturage on the flanks. The country is quite flat between Kanchung-gangri and the main crest of the Trans-Himalaya. In the longitudinal valley between the two we see to the north, 60° W., the comparatively low saddle Dicha-la, which is, however, a watershed of the first rank, for it parts the water flowing to the ocean from the isolated drainage of the plateau. Over the Dicha-la runs the lately mentioned road to the Buptsang-tsangpo and Tabie-tsaka. North, north-west, and north-east are several gangris with firn-fields and snow, all belonging to the main range of the Trans-Himalaya. To the east lies a pass, the Nakbo-kongdo-la, with the Nakbo-gongrong-gangri; over this pass, which also seems to lie on the main watershed, a road runs to Targo-gangri and Dangra-yum-tso. Between Raga-tasam and Ombo a road crosses the Tsalam-nakta-la, mostly frequented by salt caravans. From camp 402 we could still see Chomo-uchong to the south, 13° E.
A member of the robber band we saw the day before paid us a visit and was evidently an old friend of Panchor. He gave us many interesting details of the Teri-nam-tso and Mendong-gompa, which were afterwards found to be perfectly correct. I never could make out Panchor. Either he was in league with the devil himself, or he was a fully fledged knave at his own risk and reckoning. He now assured me that it would be the easiest thing in the world to take me to the Teri-nam-tso and perhaps also to the Dangra-yum-tso. O gods of Naktsang, slumber in this cold spring and do not warn your earthly vassals until it is too late! Yes, if I could only contrive to cross the Trans-Himalaya twice more, I would then willingly leave this mighty range to rest a thousand years under a veil of clouds and glittering snowfields. It is strange that this wide country, so near to the Indian frontier, should have remained absolutely unknown till our late times. I am proud and delighted to know that I am the first white man to penetrate to this wilderness.
Panchor advised us to stay a day in the valley, for we should not find pasture as good as here for a long time. I wondered how he could know that, seeing that he had said recently that he had never been north of the Sangmo-bertik-la.
On the night of May 11 the thermometer fell to 3°. We found ourselves in a great enlargement of the Trans-Himalaya called Lap, and this region is noted for its severe climate. Even in the middle of summer, when it is warm everywhere else, it is cold in Lap. The ice breaks up on Lapchung-tso only in the beginning of June after all the other ice is melted. From the map it is seen that many considerable rivers, flowing north and south, take their rise in this lofty swell.
| 363. Crossing the Kangsham River. |
The day’s march took us up to higher ground, and the way was dreadful—not a road at all, but a track winding among granite boulders and yak-moss. And next day it was still worse. In raw wintry weather, with a temperature of 1.2°, we wound up the ascent extremely slowly, where all small and loose material had been removed, so that the animals might at any moment break their legs among the stones. Here no other vegetation was seen but a moss, yellow as the yolk of an egg, and another shading into red. On the left we passed three small glaciers with a blue tinge on their fronts. By one of them some wild yaks walked meditatively. The weather was so cold that we had to stop frequently to warm our hands at a small dung fire. Panchor insisted strongly on these halts “in order that the Bombo may not be tired”; but I suspect it was chiefly because he wanted a puff from his Chinese gansa.
Though it was a great struggle for our horses, we came at last to the Sangmo-bertik-la, at the giddy height of 19,094 feet, and now I stood for the seventh time on the main crest of the Trans-Himalaya and the watershed of the great Indian rivers. The view was closed in on all sides and limited by adjacent heights. On a sharp ridge to the north-west seven yaks were tramping in the snow. Panchor and one of the soldiers went on foot in pursuit of them—to mount these steep hills on foot and carry heavy, clumsy guns is tough work. We rode on among the granite boulders; lower down green porphyry begins. The gradient became more gentle, and where we encamped we could scarcely perceive in which direction the valley sloped.
The day had been stormy, and the blast continued on May 13. Little Puppy went out to look at the morning, but crept back again and lay on his mat. Takkar was still irreconcilable towards his countrymen, the Tibetans, and inspired the greatest respect in all the escort and Panchor. We rode on through the valley northwards, past numerous summer camping-grounds, and recognized the characteristic low relief of Chang-tang in contrast to the more deeply excavated valleys on the southern side of the Trans-Himalaya. At the mouth of a side-valley running in from the west the escort came to a halt, and Nima Tashi explained that our road to Buptö, where we had agreed to meet Abdul Kerim’s party, ran up this valley, and that they did not intend to go farther north. They now showed their teeth for the first time, and were not so pliant as we thought. They excused themselves on the ground that their yaks were tired, that their provisions were at an end, and that they had no orders to accompany us more than fourteen days. Panchor, the scoundrel, took their part, and frightened us with the chief of Bongba-chushar, who took tribute from all the robbers of the country, and would certainly plunder us if we passed through his domain. After long consideration we decided to camp where we were, to thoroughly discuss the situation. Before the sun had set I had won them over, though it was chiefly the chink of silver rupees which made them forget all their scruples. It was agreed that they should receive their 20 rupees every evening, and I gave them a goat in addition, as their supply of meat was at an end.
So on May 14 we rode farther north in blinding snow, and passed numerous manis, nine standing in one row. The valley became more open, and was more than a mile broad. We found no water at the camp, but two of our yaks were laden with blocks of ice. Every evening we sat an hour conversing with Panchor, and it was easy to check his statements. I told him once and for all, that if he did not speak the truth he would receive no extra gratuity. In the evening he declared that there were dreadful apparitions at Muhamed Isa’s grave, and that at night fearful shrieks and groans could be heard from beneath. He was quite convinced that spirits and demons haunted the grave, and said that no Tibetan ventured to go near the place; this was well, for consequently the grave would not be desecrated.