Then we come at length to the Arport-tso and leave the northern basin of the lake on our left, while a large basin swells out like a fjord towards the south. A mountain spur sends out a cape into the lake, which has a very irregular outline. It stands in our way. Shall we leave it on the right or left? We come up to the middle of the lake shore and wait while Lobsang goes to see if the caravan can travel over the ice. He hurries forward and makes us a sign to follow. We go down to the beach and along a spit which narrows down to a fine point.
Here the ice on our left hand has been piled up into hummocks, 6 feet high, of grand transparent green flat slabs, but on the right, as far as we can see over the southern basin, the ice spreads its level smooth sheet of a beautiful dark green colour like leaves of laurel and lilac. We feel the usual fascination of the ice, and stand and stare down into the dark cold depths. Drifting snow sweeps like comets’ tails over the smooth course. We stand on the very point of the promontory, with the narrowest part of the Arport-tso in front of us, for the lake is contracted like a wasp’s waist. Here there are fences, walls, and barriers raised by ice pressure, and between them snow is drifted up, hard and dry on the surface. It would have been quite impossible to march over the bare ice; the caravan would have been carried away like chaff before the wind. But the snow affords us an excellent path. Lobsang leads the way, guiding us in many a wind, but we get across and come to the farther shore at the foot of a cliff.
Worse followed, for the rocky point fell straight down to the lake on its eastern side, and here we had slippery ice swept clear of snow which we sanded. One horse or mule after another slipped and fell. Some of them made no attempt to get up again, but were dragged over the ice to firm ground, where their loads were put on again. Some fell with a heavy thud on the hard treacherous ice. We had to double a whole series of points in this way till we came to one where further progress was impossible, for at its foot issued forth springs which produced large openings in the ice. There icy cold waves beat with a sharp sound against the edges of the ice under the lash of the wind, which drove continually clouds of snow dancing like elves over the dark green field of ice. We had to struggle up over steep slopes till at last we reached, thoroughly tired out, an inlet where a few leaves of grass grew. We had left a mule on the ice, and two men went back and gave it a drop of whisky so that it could come on to the camp. But my brown horse from Shigatse, which had so often carried me up to the east gate of Tashi-lunpo, remained behind for good. It is sad and depressing when a veteran dies.
Arport-tso lies at a height of 17,382 feet. The water, which was drawn from an opening in the ice, was quite potable. There was a high pass in front of us to the south-east, but we could not reach it in one day, and we camped on the plain at the south-east of the lake where Rawling had once stayed. It was little more than a mile thither, but the grass was good and the animals needed nourishment. It snowed thickly all day. It was warm and comfortable under cover, and we pitied the poor animals which were out grazing in the cold. The small puppy had grown so much that he could wander alone between the tents watching for an opportunity to steal meat. A sheep was slaughtered.
At night the cold was more severe again, and the thermometer sank to −30.3°. The sick mule sought shelter behind the men’s tent, lay down at once, and gave vent to a piteous sound. I went out to look at it, and caused it to be put out of its misery.
| 310. My Dying Pony. Sketched by the Author. |
On the morning of the 28th we found two horses dead on the grass. One was one of the veterans of Leh which Robert had ridden, and which also bore me to the springs in the Sutlej bed. We had now only twenty-three animals left, and my small white Ladaki was the last of the veterans. Little I thought, as he carried me over the Chang-lung-yogma, that he would survive a hundred and fifty comrades. Every morning two long icicles hung down from his nostrils. He was taken great care of, and I always saved a piece of bread from my breakfast for him. I had a particular affection for him and for Brown Puppy. They had been with me so long, and had passed through so many adventures.
A loss of three animals in one day was serious for such a caravan as ours. How would it all end? We had still an immense distance before us. We struggled for three hours with halting steps up this terrible pass which had a height of 18,281 feet. We encamped in the shelter of a rock and killed the last worn-out sheep, and then had no live store of meat.
The temperature fell to −24.5°, and the first sound I heard in the morning of the 29th was the everlasting howl of the storm. We marched south-eastwards through snow a foot deep. “One of our worst days,” it is styled in my diary. We cared about nothing except to get to our camp alive. I had a scarf wound several times over my face, but it was quickly turned into a sheet of ice, which cracked when I turned my head. I tried to smoke a cigarette, but it froze on to my lips. Two horses died on the way, and Abdul Kerim’s horse took over the load of one of them, while the man himself went on foot like the others. I followed the track of the caravan with Kutus. Then we found Kunchuk Sonam and Suen unable to go further; they suffered from pains at the heart. I tried to cheer them up, and promised to give them medicine if they would follow slowly in the track of the caravan. Was it now the turn of the men after half the caravan had been lost? Quite overcome with fatigue they hobbled at twilight into camp.
Abdul Kerim came into my tent very cast down and asked if we should fall in with nomads within ten days, for otherwise he considered our condition desperate. In truth, I could give him no consolation, but could only tell him that we must go on as long as there was a single mule left, and then try to drag ourselves along to the nomads with as much food as we could carry. Now we thought no longer of pursuers behind, or of dangers before us, but only wished to preserve our lives and come to country where we could find means of subsistence. Behind us the snow obliterated our tracks, and the future awaited us with its impenetrable secrets.