Below this place was the fourth crossing—the worst of all—and here the whole train had come to a halt. On the right bank, where we stood, the river was broad and deep, with icy cold, dark-blue, transparent water winding down, but at the left bank lay a broad belt of ice. Suen, a tall, black-bearded man with very Jewish features, bared his body and examined the ford on horseback. In so doing he got into water so deep that his horse began to swim. Then he jumped in himself and swam to the edge of the ice, where it cost him great effort to climb up. Poor man! I shivered as I looked at him; he had been quite under water.
| 293. Beggars. |
| 294. Abdul Kerim’s New Tent. |
Four of the others made an attempt a little higher up, and got over, but they were up to their necks in water. Then the whole troop of mules and horses were driven into the river; the horses managed best. One mule, I felt sure, would be lost. He made no attempt to hoist himself on to the ice until he had been pelted with stones from our bank. And when at length he was up and was following the track of the others, the ice cracked and gave way under him, and there he lay enclosed. All five men had to pull him out and drag him over the ice to solid ground.
Barely 100 yards farther down is the fifth ford. Between the two stands a steep, smooth, projecting rock, its foot washed by the river. It is, however, possible to climb over the rock up small fissures and over slight projections and thus avoid the two detestable fords. Here all the baggage was carried over by the coolies, and I myself climbed over the rocks barefooted; a short way beyond this crag a strong man carried me over smooth flooded ice. Here we had plenty of time for meditation, while the animals were again driven through such deep water that they almost had to swim. All were wet up to the root of the tail and many had water over their backs. The poor creatures stood together closely in a group, with pieces of ice hanging from their flanks and knocking together like castanets. We kindled a fire that the five men who had been in the water might undress, dry themselves, and change every stitch of clothing.
Then we went some distance downstream to a place where the heavy provisions were piled up on the bank, and the poor animals had to enter the icy water before they had got warm again. Here the baggage had to be carried over the river by stark-naked men, who tried with staves in their hands to keep their equilibrium among the treacherous rounded stones in the river bed. An elderly man was seized with cramp when he was half-way across, and could not move a step. Two bold youths jumped into the water and dragged him to land. Two mules, which could not be induced by coaxing or scolding to enter the water, were tugged over with a rope. I had a guide before my horse, which was wet half-way up the saddle, so that I had to tuck up my legs as high as possible, and in this position it was very difficult to keep my balance, as the horse made unexpected jumps among the blocks. The men raised such a loud hurrah that the mountains rang again when I was over the last ford with a whole skin; a blazing fire prevented any ill effects from my foot-bath. Every man, who came across shivering, dripping, and blue with cold, had to sit down immediately by the fire. I could not understand why they were not frozen to death.
Then we rode in the twilight up and down hill, and it was pitch dark before a welcome blazing fire showed us that we were near the village of Shyok. We gathered round it as we came up, and delighted in its radiating heat. I could not help consoling myself with the thought that, if any pursuers followed me up from the English side, they would at any rate get a cold bath before they found me.
In the night the temperature fell to only 15.4°, but here we were at a height of only 12,365 feet. We stayed on December 5 in Shyok, to dry the pack-saddles and give the animals a day’s rest after their trying work. In the evening the men held a farewell festival, for Shyok was the last village in Ladak. As soon as the drums and flutes were heard, all the women and girls of the country flocked to the dance.
On December 6 we took leave of our last friends, and marched down the slopes to the floor of the Shyok valley, where the altitude is 12,300 feet; it was the lowest spot we were in for a long time (Illust. 300.) For from here we mounted northwards up the valley excavated by the great affluent of the Indus. There is no road or path to speak of, only rubbish and rounded boulders, but the scenery is wonderfully fine, and gigantic granite crags tower up on all sides. We crossed the river five times, which here carries about 420 cubic feet of water and has belts of ice of varying breadth. A solitary starved wanderer from Yarkand met us, and was given a meal of tsamba. We pitched our camp among the bushes in a bed of sand at Chong-yangal, where I had stayed in the year 1902.
We were now alone. Only one man not belonging to the caravan was still with us, Tubges of Shyok, who had charge of our sheep during the early days of our journey, especially at the fords. In the evening I had a conversation with Abdul Kerim, Kutus, and Gulam. I now told them that I would not travel to Khotan by the ordinary road, because I knew it already. We would strike more to the east, and the sooner we came up on to the plateau the better. They replied that Tubges knew the country well. He was called in to the consultation. What if we went through the Chang-chenmo valley to Pamzal and the Lanak-la? “No,” he answered, “that is impossible; one can go as far as Oro-rotse, but there the valley becomes as narrow as a corridor, and ice cascades and boulders cover the bottom of the valley. Animals cannot get through even without loads.” It was then evident that we must continue up the Shyok valley and watch for an opportunity of diverging eastwards.