Such were the thoughts that Robert and I exchanged while Ishe was feeling about in total darkness at the landing-place. “What if we have to stay here till the lake freezes over, four months hence?” I said. But at this moment we heard Ishe’s steps in the sand, and he calmed us with the assurance that both the boat and the oars were safe.
Then we talked together again and kept up the fire. The storm had abated, but sudden gusts came down from all quarters. We inspected the water, and found that we could make for the mainland without danger. But first we took all the remaining fuel and piled it up into a blazing bonfire, which shone like a huge beacon over the lake. If any Tibetan saw it, he must have thought that an enchanted fire was burning on the desolate island.
The moon was high when we put off and the lake was still rough. But soon the black cape where our camp stood was seen on the southern shore against the dim background of mountains. In the middle of the sound the depth was 113 feet. We shouted with all our might, and were soon answered by a fire on the point, to which our people had come down. And the roasted wild-goose, which had waited so long for us, and a cup of hot tea tasted delicious in the early hours of morn. And still more delightful was it to creep into bed after our short visit to the goose island, which raised its dark, mysterious, dolphin-like ridge in the moonlight. Never again would my foot tread its peaceful strand.
CHAPTER L
THE SOURCE OF THE SUTLEJ
We had scarcely dressed in the morning before the storm raged again. Galsan and a gova from Parka overtook us here. The former brought provisions, the latter had strict orders from his chief, Parka Tasam, to tell me that if I did not at once betake myself to Parka, he would send off all my baggage to Langak-tso, and force me to move on to Purang. But the gova himself was a jovial old fellow, and he received my answer that if Parka Tasam ventured to meddle with my boxes, he should be immediately deposed. If he kept quiet a couple of days, I would come to Parka, and the rather that I found it impossible to navigate the lake at this season of the year.
Then we marched on westwards, in and out of the bays and round all the projections produced by a mountain elevation north of Gurla, which prolongs its ramifications to the lake. The constantly changing views, as we wind in and out and wander between land and water, are indescribably beautiful and charming. The two large islands lying far out in the lake we see wherever we may be. One is named Dopserma; other water-birds breed there, but no geese. In winter yaks and sheep are driven over the ice to the island, where there is good pasturage. When cattle disease rages in the country the animals on Dopserma do not suffer.
We passed round the sharp-pointed westernmost bay in a furious storm and blinding clouds of sand, and encamped on the shore again. The same agreeable weather continued also on the last day of August as we travelled north-eastwards and saw the Langak-tso in a new and beautiful aspect. The air was now clear, Kang-rinpoche and Gurla Mandatta were unclouded, and stood as sentinels above the lakes. We passed the point where Tundup Sonam, Ishe, and I had waited so long, and by the sand-dune where we had lain four hours.