We remained four whole days at this miserable camp with its fine view (15,646 feet). The fact was that Dangra-yum-tso now for the fourth time began to haunt my dreams, and as the holy lake was only four days’ journey to the east, I would try to reach its shore. But Nima Tashi and Panchor put all kinds of difficulties in the way: their yaks would perish where there was no grazing, and it was impossible to hire yaks, for all had lately gone to Tabie-tsaka for salt. I proposed to go on my own horses and meet them at Mendong-gompa after the excursion, and to this they made no objection at first. If I had not been by this time heartily sick of Tibet, I would have played them a pretty trick, and gone not only to Dangra-yum-tso, but further eastwards until I was stopped. But I was weary of geography, discoveries, and adventures, and wanted to get home. And besides, on comparing the lands east and west of the Teri-nam-tso, I considered the latter far better worth visiting. The former I had traversed by three routes, and two other travellers had been there, but no one had been in the west, and we knew nothing about it except the uncertain data which the Jesuits had gathered from the natives two hundred years ago. In fact this land was the least known part of Tibet, and the road to the Nganglaring-tso crosses the blank patch in its longer direction. If the authorities had asked me which way I would choose, I should have answered, the way to the Nganglaring-tso. It would have been wisest to close at once with Nima Tashi’s suggestion to go straight to Mendong-gompa. But their opposition egged me on to break another lance for Dangra-yum-tso. I ought to have remembered that he who grasps at all loses all, for I was within an ace of losing Mendong-gompa into the bargain.
For when Nima Tashi saw that he could not make me give way, he secretly sent a message to Tagla Tsering, the chief of Sangge-ngamo-buk, the district we were in and which is subject to Naktsang. And Tagla Tsering came. Last year he had been in Lundup’s train when the latter had stopped us at the foot of Targo-gangri and prevented us from going to the shore of the holy lake. Now he looked very grand and important. Over a mantle of panther skin he wore a belt of six bright silver gaos, and in the belt was stuck a sword with a silver scabbard inlaid with turquoise and coral, and at his side rattled knives and other pendent articles. Over all, he wore a long reddish-violet mantle, and on his head a Chinese silk cap. He was accompanied by six horsemen, and, the day after, twenty more arrived, all armed to the teeth with guns, swords, and lances; all in picturesque bright-coloured costumes, some with tall brimmed hats on their heads, others with bandages round their foreheads, Tagla Tsering evidently took the matter seriously, and tried to get over me by talking of raising the militia (Illust. 329).
The powerful chief meanwhile entered my tent, friendly and pleased, and, like an old friend, bade me heartily welcome, and expressed his great astonishment that I had come back again, though I had been forced the year before to turn back. Had I not already brought about Hlaje Tsering’s fall, and would I cause the new Governor of Naktsang to meet the same fate? Or what did I mean?
“No, Hedin Sahib, you cannot travel to Naktsang. Turn to the west. Nima Tashi had no authority to lead you even to the Teri-nam-tso; it was on the Buptsang-tsangpo you were to meet the caravan. You talk of Mendong-gompa. You have no right to travel thither. There is a nearer way to the rendezvous. Mendong-gompa does not lie in my district, but all the same I have sent written notices to all the govas in the country to stop you if you travel to the monastery.”
Poor Nima Tashi was half dead with fright. He had thought to frighten me, but now he saw that the chief and I sat together like old friends, drinking tea and smoking cigarettes, while he was reprimanded for bringing me too far. I told him afterwards that he was a noodle, and if he now got into trouble in Saka it was his own fault. Tagla Tsering’s good humour was much enhanced when I promised to turn back and conform to the arrangements of the chiefs on the way to Mendong, if by any chance I was prevented from approaching the convent.
We said farewell on May 24, and continued our journey westwards along the southern shore of the lake. The water is salt and has an extremely unpleasant taste, and cannot be drunk in any circumstances. Lamlung-la (16,880 feet) is a commanding pass, which must be crossed to cut off a peninsula. The rocks are granite and green schist. Hares and wild-geese are very plentiful. Here and there are freshwater lagoons on the shore, which forms a very narrow belt at the foot of the mountains. The northern shore belt seems to be much broader. We followed the southern shore another day to the spring Tertsi at the western extremity of the lake, which forms a large regular expansion.
I heard the name of this lovely lake variously pronounced by different nomads. Nain Sing’s Tede-nam-tso is incorrect. The Gova of Kangmar insisted that Tsari-nam-tso was the correct pronunciation, and said that the name was bestowed because ri di tsa-la tso yore, that is, “The lake situated at the foot of the mountain.” The nomads on the shore, however, said Tiri- or Teri-nam-tso. At our camp 411 were two small mountains on the shore, called Techen and Techung, or the Great and Little Te, or more correctly Ti. Ti is a lama’s throne in a temple, ri signifies mountain, nam heaven, and tso lake. The whole name therefore has the poetical meaning of the Throne-mountain’s Heavenly Lake. Its height above sea-level is 15,367 feet, or 413 feet lower than Mont Blanc, which, if it lifted up its head from the turquoise billows of the lake, would look like the small rocky islet in its eastern half.
