OVER THE KAMBA-LA: THE LAND OF PROMISE
About a thousand feet of zig-zag climbing were to bring us to the top of
the pass, where we would again for the moment stand over 16,000 feet.
The morning was fairly fine, and the clouds high. It took hours, of
course, before our five-mile-long column had reached the top. We toiled
up slowly, many of us with sad misgivings, for that supply column in the
rear was grievously light, and its further depletion would mean much to
all of us. To any one whose thoughts were for official reasons specially
driven into this channel, the moment of arrival at the cairn that marked
the summit of the Kamba-La was perhaps the most critical moment of the
Expedition, if not even its veritable turning point. Since leaving
Gyantse we had marched through a country that seemed to grow more and
more destitute of the supplies we needed. Chance had given us an
occasional largess, and here and there we had lighted upon something of
an oasis; but latterly in places upon which we had set our hopes we had
found nothing. And here we were leaving even the sparsely cultivated
shores of the Lake Palti, climbing into the barren mountains, and then
descending into the unknown. But, as that eventful summit was reached,
what a view met our gaze! Beyond us a deep gully sloped down to a valley
four thousand feet below. The descent for the first two thousand feet
would be over bare bleak hillside: after that we would descend across
the wood-line, below which firewood, at any rate (an article for which,
in certain altitudes, yak-dung had often been substituted), would be
found in plenty. And below that belt of forest, and on either side of a
broad river, we saw thick green crops that meant grazing galore, and
here and there among the crops large prosperous-looking villages, or
stately monasteries that should assuredly be well stocked with grain and
tsampa and other delights. One thought of Moses when he caught his first
glimpse of the promised land!
Our only fear was of the Tibetan army fleeing in front of us--whether
they might not have looted this valley also, and frightened the
inhabitants into hiding all their stores. But the valley was so large
and prosperous-looking that it seemed certain that their depredations
could not have affected the whole of it. So we went down the hill with
glad hearts. The first two villages we passed, as we entered the main
valley, were empty, and for a moment we were afraid again; but a mile
further on we came upon a large village--that of Kamba Baji--which on
inspection proved a veritable mine of wealth.
We camped for that night beside it, and spent the afternoon probing its
resources. The Kazi (or headman) of Kamba Baji was our friend from the
first. He gave us all he had, taking our coin in exchange in the spirit
in which it was offered. He owned a great deal of land up and down the
valley, and that land and its products both then and afterwards, he
placed ungrudgingly at our service, even though the rupees which he
received in exchange, albeit generous payment, hardly compensated him
for the annoyance which, as a substantial country gentleman, he must
have felt at our unwarrantable intrusion upon his property. Our
relations remained cordial ever afterwards. His house lay on the road
which the escort to the post always took between Chaksam and Pete-jong.
For that escort, as they rode up, two elderly handmaidens of the Kazi's
household were ever found waiting with brimful jugs of new milk in their
arms, with which to refresh the travellers.