Here died our fourth puppy, which I had hoped to keep as a remembrance of Shigatse. Mamma Puppy had now her mat to herself, and outside the tents lay the two black dogs from Ngangtse-tso.
The Gova of Tradum was an excellent, genial rogue, and had a thorough contempt for the Devashung. He would not let me follow up the Tsa-chu valley, but made no objection to an excursion to the Kore-la pass, two days’ journey off to the south-west, and belonging to the Himalayan range which is the watershed between the Ganges and the Brahmaputra. He also let us hire six horses, and gave us two guides for the journey, which was to be commenced on the morning of June 20.
The first night we were to encamp at the spot where the Tsa-chu-tsangpo enters the upper Brahmaputra. I rode south-south-west with my usual retinue over grassy steppe and sand-dunes. In front of us were three wanderers with bundles on their backs and staves in their hands. When we overtook them they stopped, came forward, and laid their foreheads on the ground at my feet. It was the Hajji and the two other men. I was glad of the opportunity of taking them into favour again. For the future they were to follow our yaks.
The camp was pitched on the right bank of the river, at the foot of the hill crowned by the ruins of the old Liktse monastery. Here an important trade-road crosses the river and a ferry maintains communication between the banks. The Tsa-chu river had here a breadth of 35½ yards, and a depth of barely 40 inches, while the Brahmaputra was 120 yards broad by 5¾ feet deep, and was much more imposing than farther down. The absolute height was 14,977 feet. It was not easy to carry the rope across the stream, for a strong south-west gale was blowing and the waves were high. Robert rowed out from the right bank with the rope, and from the left some Ladakis waded out as far as they could in the shallow, slowly deepening, water to catch the end thrown to them and secure it on shore. When at last we had stretched the rope across, it broke with the pressure of the wind and the waves, and the work had to be done again. We noted a temperature of 53.6° in the air and of 59.7° in the water, but the men were so chilled by the wind that they had to make a good fire. It also rained heavily—the first rain we had had since we left Ladak—and thunder rolled among the mountains.
For the first time the minimum temperature in the night, 37.8°, was above freezing-point, and the morning was beautiful after the storm: the sky was only half covered with bright summer clouds, not a breath of air stirred, and the surface of the river was smooth as a mirror, only slightly broken by slowly moving whirlpools. The ferry was already plying across with passengers and goods. The ferryman is paid a tenga for each passage, and he crosses over twice in the hour. Our horses and yaks were made to swim over the river after they had grazed at night on the steppes on the left bank.
| 229. Woman of Nyuku.
230. Two Tibetans.
231. The Gova of Tuksum.
232. Girl at Pasa-guk. Sketches by the Author. |
We rode 21½ miles on the 21st, but first paid a visit to the little Liktse-gompa monastery, which stands on the inner side of the hill, and therefore has not the fine view obtained from the old ruined monastery on the summit. From its window-openings the monks could watch the oscillating life of the river during the various seasons of the year: its slow fall in spring; its rise during summer, when volumes of turbid water come down from melting snowfields and glaciers; its decline in autumn, and the freezing of the river in the cold of winter. And they could see the breaking-up of the ice in spring, and the great clattering slabs dancing down the current. But now the prospect before the eyes of the ten monks is only a wretched loamy valley between barren hills, for their convent lies apart from all roads. Liktse-gompa is a dependency of Sera, but receives no support from it, and possesses no herds. The profits from the ferry are the only revenue of the monks. The abbot, Punjun Dung, with a red turban and a grey beard, showed me the gods in the lhakang, Buddha, Padma Sambhava, etc. Among the usual sacred objects on the altar were two human skulls converted into drinking vessels, one of them lined with silver. In the courtyard the holy dog was chained up.
Then we mounted and rode off quickly. We perceived at once that this road is much frequented. On the steppe and in open soft valley bottoms it is less clearly marked, for there every one marches where he likes; but over passes and on spurs with hard stone the tracks converge from all sides, and there the road has been trodden down and worn in the course of centuries. On the small pass Tsasa-la we met a large caravan laden with barley.
“Where have you come from?” I ask.
“From Mundang in the country of Lo Gapu.”